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Alastor stared out into the desert, watching the heat waves ripple and dance.
It was peaceful out there, sitting at the edge of nothing. Quiet. He did not have to contend with the other nymphs that occupied the oasis giggling at him behind their hands when he walked by, or with Husk getting drunk and rowdy off of mulberry wine, or with Angel’s salacious suggestions. He could hide from Vox, the obnoxious spirit of a neighbouring cottonwood tree who had been trying to tempt Alastor with his (frankly, non-existent) charm.
At Alastor’s little ledge at the cusp of the desert, it all melted away.
Alastor breathed in deeply, taking in the scent of dry snakeskin and exposed rock baking beneath the sun. When the breeze shifted, the smells of the oasis would reach him, but for now, it was just him and the endless red desert. He breathed out, content.
In the distance, a flicker of movement caught his eye.
Alastor shaded his eyes from the sun and squinted. There, to the right: something was moving out there, weaving between the dunes. He leaned forward, as if the minimal few inches he gained would somehow give him more clarity, trying to puzzle out just what was going on.
“Hiya, Alastor!”
Alastor let out an undignified bleat and jumped so hard he nearly went toppling off of his perch on the edge of a boulder. Niffty seized his arm and hauled him upright with a wild giggle.
“I didn’t mean to startle you!”
“Not at all, my dear,” Alastor said. He gently extracted his arm from Niffty’s grip, his heart thumping hard with the aftershocks of his fright. “Is it that time already?”
“Yes! Charlie’s gathered everyone at the pool. She said we’re gonna really like today’s activity!”
Alastor sighed. It had only been a few months since he had tumbled into the little oasis - quite literally, as he was the dryad of a tumbleweed - and though the others all treated him with varying degrees of suspicion, wariness, or even outright fear, Charlie had done her utmost to welcome him into the fold. Unfortunately for him, such ‘welcome’ often included being an unwilling participant in what she liked to refer to as ‘group bonding activities’.
“Very well,” he said. “Whatever our dear Charlotte wants, she gets. Shall we?”
He stood and stretched as Niffty set off, the little wood nymph skipping all the way. Once she was out of sight, he glanced back out at the desert wastes that surrounded their oasis.
Whatever he had seen before had disappeared. There was nothing out there but sand and rock.
Despite the heat of the day, goosebumps erupted over Alastor’s arms, making him shiver. He crossed his arms and cupped his elbows, unease growing within him. Surely, there was nothing out there large enough or strong enough to threaten the oasis. There was nothing out there at all.
“Coming, Alastor?” Niffty called.
“Yes!” Alastor called back. He gave the desert one last suspicious look, then turned and followed his friend into the comforting shade of the trees.
He did not see the massive being that rose up from the sand, its iridescent white scales glittering in the sun. It watched him disappear into the trees with curious red eyes, its tongue flicking out to sample his taste that carried on the breeze. It grinned, revealing two rows of inch-long fangs.
No, Alastor did not see the serpent, but it certainly saw him.
•
Alastor was busy pruning twigs from his tumbleweed when he felt a presence sidle up next to him. Without turning, he knew that it was Vox. He did not bother with trying to hide his irritated sigh.
“Vox. What do you want?”
“Alastor,” Vox greeted. Even the tone of his voice irritated Alastor, rubbing him all the wrong ways. His ears flicked in annoyance. “I’ve come to invite you for a swim. It’s very hot today - the water would feel particularly refreshing.”
“Yes, deserts are known to be quite torrid,” Alastor said flatly. He made no further comment on Vox’s unwelcome invitation, hoping that the fellow dryad would take the hint and fuck off.
No such luck.
Vox laughed as if Alastor had made some sort of joke and not insulted his intelligence. “Come now, Alastor.” He shifted closer, until he was standing less than a foot away. Alastor instinctively took a step back, displeased at having his personal space so rudely disregarded, but Vox only followed him. He had an insipid little grin on his face, one that Alastor did not like the look of. “You’ve been at the oasis for weeks now and haven’t made a single friend. You’d benefit from taking me up on my offer of companionship.”
“Niffty is my friend,” Alastor snapped.
“That little sagebrush? She’s mad, is what she is. She makes friends with the beetles and the butterflies. You need a real companion. Someone whose friendship could be… mutually beneficial.”
He reached out and cupped Alastor’s elbow, his thumb tracing inane circles over the jut of bone there. Alastor’s ears pinned back, his lips pulling back into a warning snarl, baring his small fangs.
“Take your hand off of me,” he hissed. He wrenched his arm away hard enough to make Vox stumble. Vox cursed and righted himself with a dark scowl.
“Fine,” Vox snapped. “Be that way. Don’t come crying to me when the others get tired of you and want to toss your tumbleweed back out into the desert.”
Vox turned on his heel and stormed off, muttering angrily all the way. Alastor watched him go, his hands curled into shaking fists at his sides. How dare Vox think to touch him without his leave. He was no better than that disgusting insect he liked to chum with, Valentino.
Alastor was not afraid of Vox, but he had no desire to wait around and see if the other nymph would return. Instead, he took off in the opposite direction, heading out to his usual spot at the edge of the desert.
He plopped himself down onto his little ledge of rock grumpily. Vox was a nuisance, but up until today, that was all he had been. He was beginning to show his true colours, and Alastor was unsure if the shelter offered by the oasis was worth the price of Vox’s meddling. Perhaps it would be better to uproot his tumbleweed and allow the desert winds to take him where they would. Certainly it would be better than-
His train of thought was halted when he looked up and spotted movement out among the dunes.
Alastor blinked, then blinked again. Unlike a few days ago, when he was sure that whatever he had seen could have just been him imagining things, there was definitely something moving out there.
He slowly stood and shaded his face from the sun. What on earth…?
What he saw should have been impossible. It was late afternoon, the hottest part of the day. The surface of the sand was baking in the heat. He squinted, sure that he must be mistaken, but no; there were people dancing out there.
“What…” Alastor whispered to himself.
He watched as the two figures twirled across the sand in what was clearly an elaborate waltz. One seemed to be dressed in white, and the other in red; each time they spun, crimson flared, as if the person in red were wearing a long swatch of fabric.
Alastor was hypnotized by the sight. He couldn’t see much, but what he could see was beautiful. The figures danced so gracefully, flawless in their movements. Each bright flash of red, like blood against the barren backdrop, made his breath hitch. The other figure was equally as stunning in white, moving like a ghost through the shimmering waves of heat.
Alastor was so spellbound by what he was seeing, he did not realize that he was slowly slipping from the ledge where he sat, one leg unconsciously outstretched to catch himself. He hissed when his hoof touched the blistering sand. He glanced down and yanked his leg back, surprised to find that if he had tipped forward even an inch more, he would have slipped off of the ledge and been left standing in the desert.
He quickly looked back up, but in the few seconds his attention had been diverted, the figures had disappeared. He frowned. Perhaps it had only been a trick of the light; a mirage created by the heat rolling off of the desert’s surface. But it had seemed so real.
Alastor drew his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. He planted his chin on his knees and looked out over the desert, trying to catch a glimpse of anyone walking between the dunes. There was no one there. After a long moment, he sighed in frustration and stood.
There is nothing out there, he told himself firmly. You’ve let Vox get in your head, and now you’re imagining things. It is only stress.
He stomped back into the oasis, repeating the mantra to himself over and over.
No matter how many times he told himself it had only been his imagination, he could not bring himself to truly believe it.
•
“You’ve been spendin’ a lotta time at the edge of the desert, dear,” Rosie commented. She sipped her tea and gave Alastor a conspiratorial grin over the rim of her carved wooden cup. Despite her name, she was the dryad of a huge weeping willow at the edge of the oasis’s pool. Her and Alastor were seated deep within its fronds, taking refuge from the heat of the day. “Anythin’ particularly interestin’ out there, or are you just meditatin’?”
Alastor snorted out a laugh and set aside his cup. “Don’t be ridiculous, old girl.”
“Can’t blame a girl for thinkin’ that Charlie finally got to ya,” Rosie said with a shrug. She set down her own cup and leaned in, her dark eyes gleaming with interest just as they did whenever she was hearing a juicy tidbit of gossip. Alastor was fond of her, and she was the closest thing he had to a friend aside from Niffty, but he could not help but feel disconcerted beneath the weight of that gaze. It reminded him of a spider enticing a fly into its web.
“No,” Alastor said. He fought against the urge to lean away. “I only like to sit and look out into the desert. It’s peaceful out there.”
Every day for over a week, Alastor had gone to his little ledge at the edge of the desert and stared out into the dunes. He would only have to wait a few minutes; then, without fail, the heat waves would shimmer and coalesce to form a vision for him to enjoy.
Sometimes it would be figures dancing. Other times, he would see glittering piles of gems and gold. Just the day before he had seen the visage of a huge phoenix rising from the sand, its glorious red and gold wings outstretched.
He had no idea why the illusions did not disturb or frighten him, as they likely should have. He refused to believe that he was going mad, or that the mirages may simply be a figment of his imagination. He knew they were real. He just didn’t know what was causing them.
Regardless of their origin, they were captivating and beautiful, and every day when the sun was at its peak and the desert at its hottest hour, Alastor would go out and watch them.
He did not express any of this to Rosie. He doubted she would believe him - or else she might think that he had gone crazy. Instead, he watched her conniving expression flicker into one of disappointment, before brightening into her usual sunny smile.
“Just makin’ sure you ain’t leavin’ us so soon, darlin’,” she said with a laugh. “I know it’s in your nature to be a vagabond, but you can’t leave little ol’ me behind in the dust. What would I do without ya?”
“Whatever you did before I arrived, I imagine,” Alastor said wryly.
“Oh, those days were so boring, Alastor,” Rosie sighed with a dismissive flap of her hand. “You’re the only one who knows how to have fun around here. Besides, who would I invite over for tea? Vox?”
Alastor had to laugh at that. While most of the residents of the oasis seemed enamoured with Vox and his beguiling charm, Rosie and Alastor were in agreement that he was nothing more than a cad. He had been giving Alastor looks since the day that Alastor had rejected him; sneaky sideways glances and sneers, though his eyes still held a gleam of interest that Alastor was wary of. He had been avoiding Vox for the better part of the week, with the help of Rosie and Niffty.
“I best be off,” Alastor said. “Thank you for the tea, dear.”
“Of course.” Rosie stood with Alastor and gave him a swift kiss on each cheek. “Take care of yourself, darlin’. I’d hate to see ya wither away at the edge of the desert.”
Alastor nodded and left her there, intent on doing the exact opposite. He wanted to see what mirage the desert brought him today. Would he see the dancers again, or something new?
He made his way back to the little clearing he had claimed for himself. He would check in on his tumbleweed, and then-
“Alastor.”
Alastor whirled, momentary fright gripping his throat. The feeling melted into one of annoyance when he saw Vox leaning against a tree, his arms casually folded over his chest and a wolfish grin on his face.
“Vox,” Alastor said flatly. “I thought I told you to leave me alone. I am in no mood for your games today.”
Vox pushed off of the tree and strode into the little clearing that Alastor called home. His mismatched eyes flashed with hunger.
“I hate to break it to you, Al, but this is no game.”
“Wh-”
Vox lashed out and seized Alastor’s wrist, gripping it tight. The delicate bones ground together painfully, but Alastor did not cry out. He tried to wrench himself away, as he had before when Vox had accosted him, but Vox knew his trick by now. He held firm, his expression triumphant. A ribbon of true fear threaded through Alastor’s belly like a cold snake.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Alastor gritted out. “Let me go, Vox. Now.”
Vox smirked down at him in that self-assured way of his that made Alastor want to hit him. “I don’t think I will. Val overheard you talking with Rosie, you know. You two uppity bitches have a lot to say about me, don’t you, little tumbleweed?”
“That’s none of your business,” Alastor seethed. “Leave Rosie out of this.”
“C’mon, Al,” Vox simpered. He leaned in closer - close enough for the scent of cottonwood and sweat to fill Alastor’s nose. “I’m just looking for one shot here. You’ve been nothing but a tease since the day you blew into the oasis, and I’ve been very patient. I’ve tried to be gentlemanly, tried to make you feel welcome, but if we’re being honest here, I’m not feeling so chivalrous anymore.”
“There isn’t a chivalrous bone in your body,” Alastor spat. “I’m not interested. Let me go.”
Vox’s smile curdled. Something dangerous glinted in his eyes; something crazed. Alastor realized all at once that he may be in more danger than he had ever given Vox credit for.
“I don’t think I will,” said Vox darkly. “I think you’re going to shut your mouth and do what I say, or you’re not going to enjoy what happens next.” He pressed closer, looming over Alastor menacingly.
Alastor’s mind raced. He needed to get away from Vox, but how? If he continued to fight, Vox would only force him. There was only one way to appease an urchin like him, Alastor realized.
Though it made his stomach sour to do so, he lowered his head and bared his neck in what he hoped would be taken for a gesture of demurity. He looked up at Vox from beneath his lashes and allowed his very real trembling to overcome him.
“Please, don’t hurt me,” Alastor said quietly. He wanted to bite off his own tongue for uttering the words, but instead he forced himself to swallow back his disgust and continue. “I’ve never- I haven’t-”
Vox’s eyes widened in understanding. His grip tightened on Alastor’s wrist - Alastor didn’t bother hiding his wince of discomfort. That was what Vox wanted, after all: Alastor scared and submissive.
“Well, no wonder you’ve been such a prude,” Vox breathed excitedly. “Poor thing, you didn’t even know what I was asking for, did you?”
Alastor resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “N-no,” he whimpered, as high and breathy as he could manage while still being believable. “This isn’t how things are done among my folk. We’re wanderers. Drifters. I didn’t realize you were courting me because you didn’t initiate the chase.”
“The chase?” Vox frowned a little.
Alastor nodded. He knew he had to be very careful about what he said next. “It's a custom among my people. When one vagabond dryad is courting another, they perform a chase, to ensure that the interested nymph is truly worthy.”
“Have I not been chasing you all this time?”
“It’s different,” Alastor said quickly. “It’s a real chase, on foot. You need to catch me to win, and then I’m yours.”
Vox’s eyes glittered with unconcealed greed. Alastor knew he had won when Vox’s grip loosened around his wrist, then slipped away.
“Alright,” Vox said. “I’ll give you a chase, if that’s what you want. But just know that when I win, I will be expecting my reward.”
“Of course,” Alastor said shyly. “I get a head start, though, or else you’d just catch me right away!”
“Ten seconds,” Vox declared. “That’s how much time you get, and then I’m coming after you.”
Alastor doubted very much that Vox would actually wait for the full ten seconds, but he didn’t bother trying to barter for more time. He nimbly stepped away, putting as much distance between them as he could. Vox watched him, hunger shining on his face.
Then, Alastor whirled and ran.
Vox let out a surprised sound, but Alastor didn’t stick around to hear more. He fled as fast as his feet would take him, trying to put as much distance between himself and the other dryad as possible before Vox got his wits about him enough to give chase.
Sure enough, a moment later Alastor could hear the sound of branches snapping and footsteps pounding across the ground. Of course Vox didn’t adhere to the rules of the game, the prick.
Vox might be larger, but Alastor had the advantage of agility. He dodged and ducked through tangled brush that Vox had no choice but to bodily crash through. Out of the corner of his eye, Alastor spotted other nymphs turning their heads to watch, shock on their faces. He paid them no mind. It wasn’t as though any of them would dare stand up to Vox, especially not for Alastor.
Alastor emerged where the oasis gave way to the endless sands of the desert. He knew that on open ground, Vox would very likely catch him; he didn’t have much time. He stepped out into the scorching sand and took off, racing to beat the devil.
“Alastor!” Vox bawled. Alastor risked a glance over his shoulder and saw Vox standing at the edge of the desert, looking uncertain. “Come back!”
Alastor slowed. “You still have to catch me!” he sing-songed. “What’s the matter, Vox? Can’t handle a little heat?”
He wiggled his ass for good measure, his tail flicking enticingly. That got Vox moving, just as Alastor suspected it would. He tentatively stepped out onto the sand, testing the temperature, then looked up at Alastor with a shark-like grin.
Alastor turned and fled. Ahead of him there was a rocky outcrop. If he was quick about it, he could dodge behind the boulders and catch Vox by surprise.
He put on speed, willing his legs to carry him faster. Behind him, he could hear Vox advancing, his footfalls thunderous across the hard-packed dirt and sand.
Alastor made it just in the nick of time. He ducked behind a large boulder and seized the first rock he saw: a large chunk of granite that sparkled in the sun. It was heavy in his hands. Heavy enough for what he had planned, he hoped.
Alastor found a foothold in the rock and scrambled up, then turned to crouch with his rock raised high over his head. Not a moment later Vox turned the corner, huffing and puffing. His head swiveled, searching for Alastor.
His skull made a sickening, dull crack when Alastor brought the rock down on top of it.
Vox shouted out in surprise and lurched back, his hands flying up to his bleeding head. Alastor did not let him get far. He leapt from his perch with a scream and brought the rock down on the back of Vox’s neck. Vox crumpled, his knees giving way and spilling his body into the sand. Alastor landed on his back with his knee between Vox’s shoulder blades. He brought the rock down on Vox’s head again and again and again, until Vox went limp below him.
Alastor dropped the rock and crab-crawled backwards, away from Vox’s corpse. His back hit the rough rockface of the boulder behind him. He sat there in the sand, slick with sweat and heaving for breath, adrenaline thumping through his veins. Vox’s blood was all over him, speckled across his face and chest and coating his hands. The coppery scent clung to him, nauseating him with every inhale.
Once he had caught his breath, Alastor spared a glance at Vox’s body. His head was a bloody ruin, utterly unrecognizable. Flies were already lighting upon the corpse, seeking the moisture of Vox’s blood. Water truly was the most precious commodity of the desert, no matter the form.
Alastor closed his eyes against the ghastly sight and thunked his head back against the rock. His days at the oasis were over. He needed to retrieve his tumbleweed and get the hell out before anyone thought to question him or go looking for Vox.
The sound of the sands shifting had his eyes flying back open. At first, he thought that someone had followed him into the desert and witnessed his crime, but the sound was not footsteps across the sand; it was a dragging, rasping sound, like that of a snake moving across the dunes. Only bigger.
Much bigger.
Alastor stood. His knees were trembling, threatening to give out and send him tumbling back to the ground, but he managed to prop himself up on the boulder. High noon had already passed and shadows stretched from the rocky outcrop, providing a scant bit of cover. Alastor sank back into them, pressing himself as close as he could to the rock. His heart thumped a thick staccato beat in his throat. He hardly dared to breathe as he listened to the dry rasp of whatever was moving across the sand approach him.
As suddenly as it had come, the sound stopped. Alastor strained to hear. The only sounds that carried to his ears were the whisper of the wind and the faint buzz of the flies over Vox’s body.
“There is no use in hiding, sweetling. I could smell you even from where you lingered at the cusp of the oasis.”
Alastor yelped and whirled around. He tripped over his own feet and ended up flat on his back in the sand, staring up at the huge, monstrous form that had perched itself on the boulder and was now looming over him.
It was a snake, but not one that should have occupied the bounds of reality. It was massive, twenty feet long at least from what Alastor could see. Its belly was covered in thick crimson scales tipped in gold, the rest of its tail in opalescent white that flashed in the sun, threatening to blind whoever looked upon them.
The top third of its body was the torso, arms and head of a man - if it could even be called such. At its navel, scales transitioned into milk-white skin, though there was still a smattering across its shoulders and pectorals that winked in the light as it moved. From its snake-like nose upward, the creature’s face was entirely covered by a set of crimson wings that folded over its eyes. Two elegant red horns sprouted from the nest of golden hair upon its head. When it smiled, it revealed two rows of wickedly sharp fangs.
Alastor screamed and scrambled back, his feet kicking up surges of sand as he backpedaled. The creature frowned and reached out with its two-toned arm, the blackened fingers of which were tipped with claws the length of daggers.
Alastor flipped onto his belly and tried to crawl, but the creature was faster. Its long fingers slid beneath his torso and scooped him up as if he were nothing more than an unruly kitten. Alastor struggled and thrashed, but the creature was unperturbed. It rolled him in its massive hand so that they could face each other, then raised him up to its face.
Alastor screamed again as he was forcibly lifted towards that horrible maw. The snake’s canines were even longer than the rest of its teeth, slim and curved like the fangs of a viper. Alastor thought for certain that he was about to be swallowed whole; that his life would be snuffed out in a single bite. He closed his eyes and clung to the creature’s hand, waiting for his death.
Nothing happened.
Alastor blinked open his eyes, only to immediately screw them back shut when a long, slimy tongue licked across the side of his head. The creature’s tongue was forked and large enough to part around his skull, one tine sweeping up his face while the other laved across the back of his head.
Alastor shuddered in revulsion. The creature’s saliva was warm and sticky. It left a tingling sensation across his skin, as if it held a trace of the venom housed in those long fangs. He squirmed and tried to get away, but the naga only hummed and continued to lick him. Perhaps tenderizing him in preparation to eat him?
If that was truly the creature’s intent, it seemed content to take its sweet time doing so. It licked Alastor’s head until his hair was tacky with saliva and sticking up in all sorts of bizarre directions, then moved on to his throat and chest. It crept further still, down the length of Alastor’s torso and towards where his loincloth protected his modesty.
“Hey!” Alastor shouted out when one of those dexterous points trailed up his inner thigh, far too close to his crotch for comfort. “If you aren’t going to eat me, put me down!”
The creature reared back and stared at him - or at least Alastor assumed it was staring, for the upper half of its face was still concealed behind those large red wings.
“I would not eat my mate,” the creature huffed after a moment. “Such indignity is reserved for arachnids and other such pests. I was simply cleaning you, sweetling. You were covered in that nymph’s blood, and it was marring your scent.”
Alastor blinked at it. “You’re not… planning on killing me, then?”
The creature let out a garbled sound that Alastor belatedly realized was a laugh. “Of course not. Why would I slay one so precious as yourself, whom I have been courting all this time?”
“Courting?” Alastor asked blankly.
“Yes,” the creature said happily. It swiftly set Alastor down on his feet - the sudden motion made Alastor’s stomach lurch into his throat. He stumbled a little once he was released and nearly fell, but quickly righted himself before the creature could think to snatch him up again.
He needn’t have worried; the massive serpent had turned away from him to inspect Vox’s corpse.
“My, what an offering!” it exclaimed. “A worthy courting gift. I accept!”
“I didn’t- that wasn’t-” Alastor tried to explain, but to no avail. The creature paid him no mind as it reached out and plucked up Vox’s corpse, then deftly tore it in half. Blood and viscera hit the ground with a wet splat.
Alastor blanched. He was no stranger to blood and gore, but the sight - and sound - of Vox’s flesh ripping was enough to have even a hardened dryad like himself feeling woozy.
He needed to get out of there. This creature clearly thought that Alastor had lured Vox into the desert as some sort of bizarre courting ritual, and seemed convinced he was its mate. No. Absolutely not.
He slowly began to back away, trying not to draw attention to himself as the creature continued to rip and tear. He knew he could never outrun the thing, but perhaps if he could get far enough away while it was distracted…
His hopes were dashed when the creature turned back to him, a glistening chunk of meat in hand. Alastor tensed when it approached and reached out, but it was only presenting the piece of meat to him.
“For you,” the creature said warmly. “My fierce little mate.”
“Look, I apologize if I may have somehow misled you, but I am not your mate,” Alastor said. He hoped against hope that if the creature believed him, it would simply let him go rather than treating him as it had Vox. “There is some misunderstanding. I am a dryad. And you…” he trailed off, unsure of how to address the huge naga without offending it.
“I am the god of the dunes,” the creature said. “You nature spirits have given me many names over the centuries, but the one I most prefer has been Lucifer. I have not been misled, mate of mine. I scented you on the breeze all those weeks ago and knew that you were my fated one, for how could you be anything other?
I have been courting you since, trying to delight you with my visions. You are stubborn, but that only means that you are strong. And now you are here, with me, and you have brought me such a lovely courting gift. But perhaps my mirages have not been enough? If you wish me to prove my worth, you need only ask. I can show you how strong I am, how swift. Lay any challenge before me, and I shall meet it readily, my flower.”
For some reason, that last bit - flower - made heat rise to Alastor’s cheeks. He had never been called that before. That was reserved for pretty little nymphs of rosebushes and cherry trees. He was nothing more than a tumbleweed.
“There’s no need for all that,” Alastor said, flustered. “It was not my intention for Vox to be a courting gift. I only led him out here to kill him.”
The creature - Lucifer - smiled, his fangs glinting in the sun. “Pretty, vicious, and resourceful. A perfect desert flower,” he purred.
“I am not a flower,” Alastor snapped. “I’m the dryad of a tumbleweed.”
“Ah, that would explain it then. Prickly and dangerous, yet when you bloom, there is no doubt that you are the most beautiful of the desert flora.”
Alastor did not know what to say to that. Whenever he had been complimented in the past, it had always been by men like Vox who wore a lecherous leer or false smile. They would try to draw him nearer, their breath stinking of wine and their eyes speaking of lustful intent. Alastor had hated it each and every time. Those compliments - if they could even be called such a thing - had never been genuine. They were only a means to an end. But when Lucifer spoke such pretty words, he was so earnest that Alastor had no choice but to believe him. He didn’t know what to do with that.
His mama had always told him that if he was paid a compliment, he should respond in kind. He had never thought those dryads from before worthy, but as he stood before the great, age-old serpent, he found himself shuffling his hooves in the sand like a young boy.
“You are quite striking, yourself,” he said hesitantly. He winced at how awkward that had sounded, then cursed himself for caring. He did not care. Should not care. Whatever.
Lucifer straightened up at that, his chest puffing in pride. He was still holding the bloody hunk of meat in his hand. Blood dripped from his claws to the ground below. He made for a rather formidable picture, but one that Alastor could reluctantly see the beauty of.
“Does my form please you, my mate?” Lucifer asked. The wings that covered his face ruffled, but did not open. Alastor wondered what lay hidden beneath.
“I said that you are striking,” Alastor corrected. He chose not to elaborate. The wind went out of Lucifer’s sails a touch, and he lowered himself back down to a more reasonable height. “Now, if you don’t mind, I really must return to the-”
“I wish to give you this,” Lucifer interrupted. Alastor barely managed to hold back an irritated sigh. He was hot, sweaty, and his arms were becoming sore from having lifted and brought down the rock repeatedly on Vox’s head. He longed for shade and the refreshing cool of the oasis’s water.
Instead, he reluctantly regarded the piece of Vox that Lucifer had stripped away from the man’s corpse. At first, Alastor did not understand his intention, and then it dawned on him.
“You wish for me to eat this?” he asked. His eyes flicked up to gauge Lucifer’s expression, but with most of the god’s face covered, he could not infer much of anything.
“Of course,” Lucifer said. He was not irritated or surprised; he calmly explained his intentions to Alastor, as if he knew the dryad were unfamiliar with such customs. Perhaps he had done so before - if Lucifer was as old as he claimed to be, surely that meant he had taken mates in the past?
Alastor pretended that the thought did not disconcert him and reached for the meat. Though most nymphs ate only rarely, choosing instead to sustain themselves on the energy of their life-bonded flora, Alastor had no such qualms. He had long ago learned to survive on whatever sustenance he could get his hands on and was no stranger to the taste of flesh. He had never tried a fellow dryad’s, however.
Vox’s meat was thick and rich on Alastor’s tongue when he took his first tentative bite. The taste of copper was overwhelming, nearly enough to gag him, but he persevered.
The meat was tough, rigor mortis having already set in, and it took a long time to chew before Alastor could properly swallow. He could sense Lucifer’s approval. It was like a thick blanket draped across his shoulders, heavy but warming. He did not know if Lucifer could truly see him behind those wings, but he imagined that he could feel the god’s eyes on him all the same.
The piece of meat that Lucifer had given him was large. The richness made it impossible to finish, but Alastor managed one more bite. Blood smeared over his cheeks and chin and turned his fingers sticky. He felt like a feral thing; a lost soul wandering the desert, forced to consume his fellow man before he was done away with first.
He found he did not mind it.
“I can’t finish this,” Alastor declared once he had swallowed his second bite. He held the meat up to Lucifer, expecting that the serpent would take it. Instead, Lucifer leaned down, bending himself nearly in half to bring his face level with Alastor. His lips parted and his tongue darted out to flicker over the meat.
Alastor felt some measure of trepidation at being so close to those long fangs, but he forced himself to be still as Lucifer leaned in and deftly plucked the meat from Alastor’s hands with his teeth. It disappeared in one swallow. Lucifer hummed contentedly but did not pull away. Instead, his tongue flicked back out, dancing over the backs of Alastor’s blood-stained hands.
Alastor gasped but otherwise did not move. Just as it had before, Lucifer’s saliva left his skin feeling tingly and warm. The tines of his tongue were each longer than Alastor’s fingers and dipped between them to lap up Vox’s blood. They moved independently of each other; one wrapped itself around Alastor’s thumb and the other lapped between his ring finger and pinkie.
Lucifer was close enough to him that Alastor could hear the rustling of the shifting feathers that concealed his face. He wondered how Lucifer would react if he tried to reach up and move the wall of plumage to see what was hidden behind; poorly, he wagered. If Lucifer wanted him to see, Alastor was sure he would have shown him.
As if reading his thoughts, Lucifer withdrew. He licked his lips and smiled at Alastor.
“I am sorry I cannot show you my visage in its entirety, sweetling,” he said. “Mortals were not meant to meet my eye. To do so would turn you to stone.”
Alastor nodded mutely. At this point, nothing could surprise him. He was conversing with a gargantuan sand snake, after all.
“You are still soiled,” Lucifer said. Alastor instinctively reached up and touched where Vox’s blood was drying on his cheeks. “Allow me?”
“Oh,” Alastor mumbled. “I really don’t think-”
But Lucifer had already moved to lie belly-down upon the sand, his upper half supported by his elbows. He leaned in and licked across Alastor’s face, effectively silencing him.
Alastor spluttered and tried to pull away, but Lucifer’s hand shot out before he could make it more than a step. His massive hand spanned the entirety of Alastor’s back from his nape to the backs of his thighs, pinning him in place as he was subjected to Lucifer’s ministrations. He squirmed when Lucifer licked him again, the feeling foreign and so very intimate.
“Easy, sweet one,” Lucifer murmured. “I will not harm you.”
Easy for a god over thrice Alastor’s size to say, especially one who was not currently getting their face licked by a giant serpentine tongue. Alastor had no choice but to hold himself still, his heart hammering as those large teeth grew nearer to his throat.
Lucifer licked Alastor slow and firm, from his collarbones to his hair. Alastor thought Lucifer’s deliberation might be with the intent to somehow soothe him, but it was having rather the opposite effect. Alastor’s ears were ringing, his chest heaving beneath Lucifer’s curious exploration of his skin. It was hot, too hot, the venom of Lucifer’s saliva lighting up Alastor’s skin like electricity dancing through his nerves. His nipples pebbled into tight peaks and his hands trembled at his sides.
Lucifer was also making noises; deep, grumbling purrs, as if he was enjoying the taste of Vox’s blood. Or perhaps the taste of Alastor.
Alastor gasped when one of the tips of Lucifer’s tongue flicked across his nipple. He did not know if it was intentional on Lucifer’s part - regardless, he jerked back, pressing himself tighter against Lucifer’s hand. Lucifer’s palm curved beneath Alastor’s buttocks to support his weight, lifting him until only the very tips of his hooves skimmed the sand.
“L-Lucifer,” Alastor stuttered. “What are you…?”
“Relax,” Lucifer rumbled. His voice was thick and low, like the thunder of an oncoming storm. “Let me care for you.”
“I am already clean,” Alastor weakly protested. Surely by now he was; Lucifer had licked every inch of his face, and was now indulging in slow, luxurious laps of his tongue, as if savouring Alastor’s taste.
Lucifer paid him no mind. He continued to lave Alastor with his tongue, over his chest, his throat, his cheeks. One tine crossed Alastor’s lips, leaving them tingling. Alastor gasped, and suddenly, that slick muscle was pushing into his open mouth, past his teeth and over his tongue.
Alastor choked, surprised. Lucifer drew back, but only for a moment; when his tongue returned, it was in its entirety, forcing Alastor’s mouth open wide around the intrusion.
Heat exploded low in Alastor’s gut, molten and ravaging. He could scarcely breathe; the width of Lucifer’s tongue filled every crevice of his mouth, his jaw aching from the strain. He moaned helplessly from the feeling, overcome.
Distantly, Alastor realized that he was hard, his cock tenting his loincloth. He knew he should have been embarrassed, or perhaps even frightened, but Lucifer left no room for such emotion. He claimed Alastor’s mouth with all the certainty that he had earlier used to proclaim Alastor as his mate. Lucifer truly believed that Alastor was his fated one, as he so named him. As Lucifer clutched him close and delved farther into his mouth, Alastor found that he did not hate the thought.
Lucifer’s tongue caressed the back of Alastor’s throat, making him gag harshly. Lucifer was quick to withdraw. Alastor swooned back into his hand, allowing the god to support him entirely. He heaved for breath, his chin and cheeks slick with saliva. His head felt pleasantly fuzzy.
“Are you alright?” Lucifer asked. He leaned in and butted his massive head against Alastor’s midriff. The feathers that hid his face tickled Alastor’s sides, making him squirm.
“Yes,” said Alastor dreamily. He raised a hand and carefully carded his fingers through the soft feathers of Lucifer's plumage. Lucifer purred in approval and nudged into Alastor’s touch. The movement had his chin bumping across Alastor’s erection, drawing a startled gasp from the dryad. His fingers tightened in Lucifer’s feathers, clinging for dear life as Lucifer slowly and deliberately rubbed his chin along Alastor’s length through the thin fabric of his loincloth.
“That’s- You-” Alastor stuttered. “Lucifer.”
He had never been touched there before, not by any being aside from himself. The sensation was entirely overwhelming - his face was so hot that he thought if he were to touch it, he might burn the tips of his fingers.
Lucifer let out a low growl of approval. The vibration of it ran across Alastor’s cock. He cried out, his hands clenching into tight fists and yanking at the feathers covering Lucifer’s face. Gently, Lucifer reached up with one claw and nudged Alastor’s hands away, redirecting them to his impressive crimson horns instead. Alastor gripped the thick keratin and yanked Lucifer closer, silently demanding more.
“Greedy thing,” Lucifer chuckled, but he obliged Alastor all the same. His prehensile tongue lolled from his mouth, the dual tips lifting Alastor’s loincloth and flicking it out of the way. Alastor hardly had a moment to be embarrassed before he was letting out a startled cry as Lucifer’s tongue enveloped his cock.
It was too much, pleasure slamming into Alastor’s gut like a sledgehammer. He sobbed and doubled over, watching as Lucifer’s tongue worked him over. One tine wrapped around his cock, pulling it into a tight, slick vacuum, while the other delved lower, tickling across Alastor’s balls and pressing tight to his perineum.
“Gods, oh gods,” Alastor moaned. His hands spasmed over Lucifer’s horns. His orgasm was already building, a hot clench behind his navel that made him tremble, his hips bucking into the warm hole Lucifer’s tongue created.
Lucifer was everywhere - his presence consumed every one of Alastor’s senses, from his tongue around Alastor’s cock, to his hand cradling Alastor tenderly in his grip, to the deep, earthy musk of him that filled Alastor’s sinuses and made his head swim. His back bowed in a severe arch, his hips twitching and eyes squeezing shut as he spilled across Lucifer’s tongue.
Lucifer let out a thick, guttural moan. Both tips of his tongue wrapped around Alastor’s cock, slavering over him as they chased every drop of his spend. Alastor writhed, overstimulation gripping him and making his legs tremble. He tried to push Lucifer away, but it was no use - the old god would have his fill.
Alastor tucked his head against one of the fingers supporting him and sobbed, his hips bucking up helplessly. Lucifer did not give him a moment’s reprieve. His tongue worked Alastor through the overstimulation back into a painful, prickly pleasure.
“Please,” Alastor begged. “It’s too much, I can’t!”
Only then did Lucifer draw back, though he did not release Alastor. Instead, he flipped the dryad over and dropped him onto the ground.
“Hey!” Alastor yelped. He tried to get up, but Lucifer planted a hand over his back and forced him down. Alastor’s elbows gave out, leaving him sprawled in the sand with his ass raised humiliatingly high.
Alastor moved to get up again, indignant, but froze when something huge and slick brushed the backs of his thighs. He tensed and craned his neck, trying to get a look at whatever was touching him. He immediately wished that he hadn’t.
Lucifer was crouched low over Alastor, one hand keeping Alastor pinned to the ground and the other planted next to Alastor’s head. At the dip of his pelvis, a slit had opened along his scales, and from it protruded two massive cocks. The tapered tips were bumping against Alastor’s buttocks and lower back, smearing viscous slick across his skin. Each was as thick as Alastor’s thigh and very nearly the length of his arm.
The feeling of one of those monstrous appendages dragging against his unprepared hole had Alastor lurching away. “Wait!” he screeched, panicked.
Lucifer stilled with a puzzled sound. “What is it, my flower?”
“You’ll kill me if you try to fuck me like this,” Alastor said. “I can’t take you. You’d tear me in half.”
Lucifer cocked his head as if he was only just realizing the problem. His cocks were still resting against Alastor’s backside, a formidable weight. Alastor shuddered from the sensation, a deep pang of longing hitting him. It was impossible to take even one of Lucifer’s cocks, but by the gods, he was tempted to try.
He found himself disappointed when Lucifer withdrew. He let out a plaintive whine that was entirely involuntary, which Lucifer hushed with a gentle noise. Then, the great serpent laid himself on his belly once more and leaned in to lick one long stripe up Alastor’s ass.
Alastor yelped, his tail flagging high over his back. Lucifer repeated the motion, licking from the underside of Alastor’s cock up to the base of his tail. He did it again and again until Alastor’s entire backside was dripping with saliva, his asshole fluttering around nothing. Only then did Lucifer begin to push inside, the width of his tongue enough to have Alastor hanging his head and groaning.
It was a stretch to be sure, even with Lucifer’s saliva slicking the way. Alastor’s rim burned, his ass aching from the intrusion, though the bite of pain sweetened the pleasure. His stomach flipped, his cock dribbling precum despite having come only minutes before.
Lucifer struck against something deep within Alastor’s passage, something that had his skin lighting up and fireworks exploding behind his closed lids. Alastor threw back his head and cried out, the unrelenting pressure against that sweet spot within him making his cock twitch uncontrollably where it hung heavy between his thighs. Lucifer rumbled in approval and withdrew, only to fuck back in with a devastating plunge of his tongue. He repeated the motion until Alastor thought that he might go mad from it, then finally pulled out completely.
Alastor groaned and slumped, utterly wrung out. Sand clung to the sweat on his skin. He cracked an eye and peered over his shoulder, wondering if Lucifer was done with him.
The god of the dunes was decidedly not done. Before Alastor’s very eyes he transformed, his massive bulk twisting and shrinking until he was akin to the size of a man. He still looked the same as he had when he was thrice the size, only now he was roughly a head shorter than Alastor and much more manageably proportioned.
“Does that hurt you?” Alastor asked as Lucifer slowly approached. He shivered when Lucifer reached out and ran a hand up his flank. “To transform like that, I mean.”
“My darling mate,” Lucifer cooed. “So considerate. No, it does not hurt me, sweetling. I would prefer not to retain this form for any considerable length of time, but if this is what is required to mate you without damaging you, then it is more than worth the sacrifice.”
Alastor blushed. No one had ever sacrificed for him before.
His eyes drifted down to where Lucifer’s cocks were still standing proudly erect out of the confines of his leathery sheath. He swallowed hard. Though no longer the length of his torso, they were still intimidating. Was Lucifer expecting him to take them both?
“Hush,” Lucifer soothed, as if sensing Alastor’s thoughts. “We’ll go slow. I vow that I will not hurt you, precious thing.”
Alastor let out a soft whine, then turned his head to bury his face in his arms. Lucifer slithered up behind him, the height change bringing his hips perfectly level with Alastor’s ass. His dual cocks bumped across Alastor’s tailbone, smearing slick into the fur of his tail. Alastor moaned, the sensation sending zings of pleasure up his spine.
He sucked in a breath when Lucifer notched the tip of one of his cocks at his hole. Even in this form it felt impossibly large.
“Breathe for me,” Lucifer instructed. “Relax, sweetling. Let me take care of you.”
Alastor blew out a long, tumultuous breath. As he did, Lucifer slowly began to push inside.
It was a lucky thing Lucifer thought to prepare Alastor with his tongue. The stretch was intense, bringing tears to Alastor’s eyes. He moaned long and low and arched his back, trying to ease some of the pressure. It was impossible. Lucifer’s cock carved a place for itself within him, utterly consuming him like the savage flames of a wildfire. Alastor’s mind went blank when Lucifer bottomed out inside, the sensation of being claimed drowning out all else.
He could only moan and whine helplessly as Lucifer began to fuck him with slow, filthy rolls of his hips. The god’s hands settled around Alastor’s waist, his claws pricking Alastor’s skin as he pulled him back onto his cock. His other cock brushed Alastor’s with every thrust, the feedback loop of pleasure making Alastor’s head spin.
It was slow-going, but eventually, Alastor’s hole began to open itself to Lucifer’s unyielding thrusts. The sounds of their coupling turned sloppy and slick, the clap of Lucifer’s scales against the backs of Alastor’s thighs positively obscene.
“You’re ready for more,” Lucifer declared some moments later. Alastor moaned weakly in response; it was all he was capable of. His eyes had rolled back in his skull and his fingers had buried themselves in the sand. He vaguely realized that he was drooling, his saliva darkening the sand around his mouth.
Lucifer chuckled and reached between them to take hold of his second cock. He guided it to Alastor’s hole, withdrawing the first just long enough to line up both tips.
“Brace yourself, mate of mine.”
“Oh, fuck,” Alastor blurted when Lucifer began to push inside. If he thought that the stretch had been intense before, it was nothing compared to how he felt now - it felt as though Lucifer were tearing him apart, pain and pleasure and pain looping back over and over until Alastor could think of nothing but the feeling of Lucifer’s cocks bullying their way into his virginal ass.
He whined and scrabbled in the sand, trying to diffuse the barrage of sensation. It was too much, too much, he couldn’t… couldn’t…
Lucifer let out a low, animalistic groan when his scales met the bruised skin of Alastor’s ass. He laid a hand on Alastor’s back and rubbed in soothing circles, trying to help his mate along through the worst of the intensity.
Alastor let out a garbled noise and went limp in Lucifer’s hold. His body succumbed to the god behind him, utterly caving beneath the juxtaposed sensation of Lucifer’s tender touch and the twin cocks buried in his body to the hilt.
“So tight,” Lucifer hissed. He draped himself over Alastor’s back and nipped at his fluffy ear. Alastor moaned and turned his head, presenting his neck to Lucifer. Lucifer growled possessively and took the invitation, setting his teeth against Alastor’s vulnerable throat. “Mine.”
“Yours,” Alastor slurred in agreement. How could he be anything other? Lucifer had claimed him so thoroughly, so completely, he could not imagine being anything else than what Lucifer wanted him to be.
He whimpered when Lucifer pulled back, the immense bulk of his cocks dragging against Alastor’s walls. The feeling of Lucifer leaving him after filling him so completely - Lucifer seemed to agree, for before Alastor could voice his protest, he thrust back in, knocking the air from the dryads lungs with a punched-out moan.
Lucifer set a quick, rabbitting pace, unwilling to be without the heat of his mate’s body for long. Alastor could only lie there and take it. His chest, knees and cheek were becoming irritated from being dragged across the sand, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when he felt every push, drag and shift of Lucifer within him; not when he could reach down and cup his belly and feel the way that it distended outward with each inward thrust, proof that Lucifer was carving a place for himself within him.
Lucifer licked over Alastor’s back, gathering the sheen of sweat on his tongue. “Mine,” he growled, his voice inhuman and barely intelligible. “My mate. My flower. I’m going to fill you with my seed, claim you so that any other that looks upon you knows just who you belong to.”
“Yes,” Alastor begged, raw and needy. “Yes, yes, please.”
Lucifer snarled and pressed into him harder, faster, fucking him open with such intensity that when Alastor’s orgasm struck, he hardly registered his cock spurting across the sand. A moment later Lucifer followed him to climax, his claws piercing the skin of Alastor’s hips as he shuddered and came.
Pulse after pulse of hot cum flooded Alastor, filling him more than he ever thought imaginable. He squirmed and whined at the sensation of his belly going taut, his body forced to accommodate the rush of spend being plugged inside by Lucifer’s thick cocks. The sensation had his eyes rolling back, his cock dribbling another weak, pathetic orgasm over the mess he’d already made in the sand.
Lucifer rumbled in approval and flopped onto his side to avoid their combined puddle of fluids, dragging Alastor with him. He immediately set to work licking at Alastor’s sweaty nape, the evaporation of his saliva cooling Alastor significantly.
Eventually, Lucifer’s cocks went soft and he slipped free. Alastor winced and blushed at the rush of spend that poured from him, soaking his thighs. With dawning horror, he realized that he was unable to clench down completely - he was left gaping open, Lucifer’s cocks having ruined him.
“Oh, gods,” Alastor muttered. He buried his face in his arms to hide his shame, his ears lying flat.
“What is it, sweetling?” Lucifer cooed. He nuzzled at the back of Alastor’s head with his flattened nose.
“You’ve ruined me, that’s what,” Alastor hissed. “Will I ever recover?”
Lucifer laughed, a merry sound. “Of course you will, flower. You dryads are sturdy. Beyond that, we are mated. Your life force is tied to mine, the same as it is your tumbleweed. Soon, my magic will strengthen you, lengthening your life and speeding your recovery. Fret not, mate of mine.”
“My tumbleweed!” Alastor shot up, only to collapse back into Lucifer’s arms when his ass protested vehemently against the sudden movement. “I left it in the oasis. I cannot be without it for long.”
“Then we shall retrieve it,” Lucifer said soothingly, “but in a moment. You need to rest. When you wake, we shall pay a visit to the oasis.”
He rubbed soothing circles into Alastor’s bloated belly with his thumb, helping to ease Alastor back into the cradle of his body. His long tail wrapped itself around Alastor’s leg, further binding the dryad to him.
Alastor could reluctantly admit that it was comforting. He was exhausted and sore, and Lucifer was warm against his back. With any other, Alastor would have refused to fall asleep, too wary to rest, but something deep within him knew that Lucifer would never harm him.
He closed his eyes and allowed his body to succumb to the comforting embrace of unconsciousness.
•
Alastor slept through the rest of the day and the entire night. By the time he woke the next morning, Lucifer had resumed his usual twenty-foot-long form. He had placed Alastor within the coils of his long tail, keeping him warm through the chill of the desert night.
“Good morning, my flower,” Lucifer said warmly once Alastor had risen. “We must gather your tumbleweed and be gone from this place. Already I can sense stirrings from the oasis. They are wondering where you and that other nymph have wandered off to.”
Alastor nodded in agreement. He still felt bone-tired: a result of being away from his tumbleweed for so long.
Lucifer uncoiled himself and picked Alastor up. He perched the dryad upon his shoulder and instructed him to hold tight. Alastor did so, winding his fingers into the feathers that covered Lucifer’s face. Then, they set off towards the ribbon of green in the distance.
Lucifer’s massive form was not exactly conspicuous, so Alastor was not surprised to find several nervous nymphs lingering at the edge of the trees when they reached the oasis. Among them was Niffty, Charlie and Rosie, though Alastor was displeased to see Valentino there, too.
Lucifer leaned down, allowing Alastor to slip from his shoulder. Immediately, Niffty ran to him and threw her arms around his waist. Alastor felt Lucifer tense behind him, but waved off the god’s nervousness.
“Oh, Alastor!” Niffty cried. “We were so worried! What happened?”
“I’ve had a rather eventful day,” Alastor admitted. “But I’m afraid I must say goodbye, Niffty dear. I’ll be leaving with Lucifer.”
“You can’t!” Niffty wailed. She clung to him harder, as if her tiny body alone could prevent him.
Alastor smiled softly and stroked her hair. “Do not be upset, dear. You’ll understand why I must leave soon enough. I’ve only come to collect my tumbleweed.”
He gently directed the little nymph towards Charlie, who was watching the exchange with tears in her eyes. She scooped up Niffty and watched forlornly as Alastor moved past, towards the clearing that he had called home. It was likely only Vaggi’s arm around her waist and Niffty crying into her hair that stopped her from launching herself at Alastor.
Rosie was waiting at the treeline, her hands on her hips and a grim expression on her face.
“I thought I told ya only yesterday not to leave me,” she said sternly. Alastor stopped and gave her a small, rueful smile.
“Circumstances change, as you well know,” he said. Then, quieter: “I daresay Vox will never darken your doorstep again, however.”
Rosie’s eyes widened in surprise. Then, her face split into a giddy grin. She took his hands in hers and leaned in to give him a kiss on each cheek.
“Well then! Do be sure to visit us, dearie. I would like to hear all about your not-so-little friend here. A tale for another day, though; a certain insect is beginning to realize his beau didn’t return with you.”
Alastor glanced over his shoulder. Indeed, Valentino was squinting as he looked around, no doubt searching for Vox. No matter how bad his vision, it would not take him long to realize that Lucifer and Alastor had returned from the desert alone.
Alastor pressed a quick kiss to the back of Rosie’s hand and swiftly made his way to his clearing. He could hear the other nymphs and dryads scrambling to move out of Lucifer’s way as the giant serpent followed. When Alastor arrived, he stopped dead in his tracks, amazed by what he saw.
His tumbleweed had bloomed. Tiny, gorgeous pink and white flowers covered the entire bush, peeking out from between the prickly boughs.
Alastor heard Lucifer slither up behind him, his great bulk sliding across the soft, mulchy earth. “My tumbleweed has never bloomed before,” he said quietly.
Lucifer let out a purr and reached down to scoop Alastor up into his hands. He settled Alastor on his shoulder once more and reached down to gently press his finger to a tiny bloom.
“I told you, mate of mine. You are the most beautiful flower in all the barrens.”
Alastor blushed and leaned against the side of Lucifer’s head, his hand sliding up to cup one slender crimson horn. He watched as Lucifer carefully extracted his tumbleweed and raised it up.
Alastor briefly wondered what Lucifer would do with it, but he did not have to wait long to find out; Lucifer reached up above his head and placed the tumbleweed between his horns. When he released it, it stayed there, held aloft by some magic.
The sight pleased Alastor more than he would have thought possible. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to one of Lucifer’s wings.
“Let us go,” Alastor murmured. “I want to be far from this place before-”
“Hey!”
Alastor sighed. Valentino.
Lucifer turned and regarded the small deity marching up to him. Valentino’s face was scrunched in fury; he had finally realized Vox’s absence.
“Where’s Voxxy?” Valentino demanded to know. He fearlessly walked right up to Lucifer and gave him a poke to his crimson belly. “That nasty little weed better not have hurt him.”
“You dare to refer to my mate in such a manner?” Lucifer hissed. “Watch your tongue, or else I shall remove it.”
Valentino sneered up at Lucifer, oblivious to the danger he was in. “Fuck yourself, culebra,” he snapped. “And fuck your mate, too.”
Lucifer reared up, clearly offended. Alastor watched curiously to see what he would do, thoroughly entertained.
“Hold on to me, flower,” Lucifer said. Alastor barely had time to follow the command before the wings covering Lucifer’s face snapped open, nearly knocking him from his perch on Lucifer’s shoulder. He just managed to grab a fistful of feathers and cling on.
Alastor would never know what lay hidden behind Lucifer’s wings, but whatever it was stole Valentino’s sanity in one terrible stroke. He screamed, high and shrill - the last sound he ever made, for a moment later his body began to calcify from his eyes outwards. Alastor watched the terrible transformation with wide eyes. It took less than five seconds for Valentino’s entire body to turn to stone.
When it was over, Lucifer’s wings closed up tightly across his face once more. He did not bother to stick around and wait for the others to investigate Valentino’s screams. Instead, he turned and swiftly slithered between the trees, heading back out into the heat of the desert.
“That was rather impressive,” Alastor offered as they moved through the trees. He leaned in and pressed his lips to the arm of Lucifer’s wing, whispering against it: “I think I shall like to see it again.”
Lucifer shivered hard, his feathers ruffling. “As you command, my darling. But first, let us be away from this place. I wish to worship you in private.”
Alastor grinned as Lucifer carried him out into the arid land he would now call home. Worship.
Yes, he quite liked the sound of that.
