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“MAMMOOOOON!”
Diavolo heard Lucifer’s voice booming from beyond the House of Lamentation's door before he even had the opportunity to knock.
Taken aback by the thunderous cry (followed by the sound of something shattering and a loud thud), the prince decided not to knock and instead retrieved his DDD from the front pocket of his jacket. He quickly typed out a polite “I’m here! :)” text instead of troubling the Avatar of Pride with even more noise.
Diavolo tucked his DDD away once the message had been sent, shifting the bouquet in his left hand to rest evenly between both palms. He tapped his foot melodically while standing patiently for another minute or so before the ornate door creaked open, unveiling the mess behind it.
The rug that was usually spread uniformly though the mansion's foyer was now crumpled in its center, revealing the scuffed floor beneath. Beside the rug, at the foot of the staircase, were the disarrayed shards of what had presumably once been a priceless vase. And in front of it all, emerging from just beyond the sturdy wooden door, was a visibly irritated Lucifer, ebony hair uncharacteristically disarrayed.
“Good evening, Diavolo,” Lucifer sighed, reaching a hand up past his reading glasses to massage his temple. “I apologize for not being ready on time. My brothers have all seemingly decided to cause even more trouble than usual today.”
“Oh, it’s no trouble at all,” Diavolo smiled, his tone light and sugary. “I’m willing to wait as long as you need to get things settled in there.”
Lucifer mustered a grin, though the wrinkles on his forehead did not disappear. “I shouldn’t be too much longer. I’ve already reprimanded Mammon for managing to fall down the stairs and land atop the vase you gifted me, but I still need to string him up from the ceiling for good measure.”
“Well, I know how you like to crack the whip,” Diavolo chuckled. “So please, punish to your heart’s content.”
Lucifer’s tired grin took on a hint of lasciviousness as he shut the door gently behind him, eyes lingering on Diavolo’s as he disappeared back into the House of Lamentation.
***
At long last, Lucifer had managed to pry himself from the chaos within his home and rejoined his prince for their planned rendezvous. He reemerged from the gargantuan estate without a hair out of place, wisps of white fur on his newly adorned jacket framing his angular face.
Lucifer turned a golden key in the door’s knob and twisted it twice, ensuring that it was locked, before turning to face Diavolo.
“Shall we be on our way, then?” Lucifer spoke, tucking his reading glasses firmly into his breast pocket.
After a beat of hesitation, the prince responded.
“Lucifer, you look positively radiant!"
The fallen angel blinked in response, the fluttering of his naturally long eyelashes only enhancing his beauty, before he allowed his lips to curl into an earnest smile. Lucifer always found himself taken aback by his lord’s brazen honesty.
“Ah! I’d almost forgotten!” Diavolo suddenly piped up. Speaking with a slightly exaggerated grandiosity, he continued, “May I present to you: the finest assortment of blossoms from the castle gardens!”
With a small flourish, the demon prince lifted the bouquet in his hands before the object of his adoration.
The flowers glistened with dewdrops, shining even under the darkness of the Devildom’s sky. A bustling assortment of oceanic blues and mossy greens, their sheer number threatening to snap the cerulean ribbon that bound their stems together. In the bouquet’s center, nestled between two fragrant blooms, rested a princess’s poison apple. It had undoubtedly been plucked from the tree that Diavolo had planted for the angel Lucifer all those centuries ago.
“Diavolo, you spoil me,” said Lucifer, his no-nonsense timbre failing to distract from the flush of his cheeks. “You really needn’t lavish gifts upon me at every opportunity.”
“But this is so little!” Diavolo was incredulous. “I’d have brought you the entire garden if I could!”
“Ha, I’m sure you would’ve,” Lucifer sighed, glancing away from Diavolo’s eyeline as he became increasingly aware of the rising warmth in his face. His pride, once again shattered by Diavolo’s sincerity. How sickeningly sweet.
Lucifer tucked his house key into the back pocket of his neat dress pants before reaching out to take the bouquet. His hand met Diavolo’s, their painted fingertips lingering on each other for a moment as the flowers changed hands.
“Gestures like this aren’t going to help the rumors, you know.”
“Well, everyone is going to talk regardless. I wouldn’t want that to hold me back. Any more than it already has.”
“...Thank you for the flowers, Diavolo. They’re beautiful.”
The two demons then departed from the House of Lamentation’s doorstep, shiny shoes clicking in tandem as they walked across the front yard’s path of hardened dirt and passed through the gate. Close enough to portray intimate friendship, even from a distance, they began down the cobblestone path toward the Demon Lord’s Castle.
“So, how have you been doing?” The Prince’s tone was jovial as he instantly dove into conversation. “Lively as ever, by the sound of it?”
The Avatar of Pride grumbled at the mere reminder of the chaos he had just departed from. “Unfortunately, yes. On top of Mammon’s usual idiocy, I’ve recently been swarmed with complaints from a newly opened nightclub, claiming that Asmo turned their dance floor into an orgy on their opening night. And of course, Levi decided that while I was responding to said complaints was the perfect time for him to barge into my office and explain the new Ruri-chan movie adaptation. In vigorous detail.”
“And how exactly did Mammon fall down the stairs earlier?”
“Sledding.”
“What?”
“He and MC were trying to sled down the staircase.”
Diavolo laughed heartily, before quieting into a half smile. The antics of the seven brothers never failed to entertain the young lord, but their negative effects on Lucifer were apparent, even after he had taken the time to tidy up his appearance. The resonance of amusement in Diavolo’s voice was replaced by that of sympathy.
“It sounds like I arrived at just the right moment,” the prince said, draping his right arm around his companion. “You truly need to take more breaks, and I’m overjoyed to provide you with the opportunity.”
“I’ve been working through the stack of paperwork from last week’s student council meeting. Ideally, I’d have liked to wait until it was complete to take a break, but with the extra load added by my brothers, it may still be a few days until I’m able to get it back to you. My apologies.”
“You haven't a thing to apologize for,” Diavolo replied. “Put all work out of your mind for the evening. This is to be a tea party, not a business meeting. And besides,” he pulled Lucifer an inch closer as his voice lowered, “I haven’t exactly been making much progress on my work today either, if that makes you feel any better.”
“It most certainly does not! To think that the future king would brag about slacking off…” Lucifer retorted, though his reprimand came out more lighthearted than usual.
“You’re sounding just like Barbatos.”
“Are you certain that either of us have the time for a tea party?”
Diavolo hesitated for a moment, his gaze wandering toward the castle gates as the cobblestone path came to a gradual end. “Your eyes have been a bit darker lately. Not just your eyes, but the bags beneath them as well. And your gaze…your striking red gaze…it was aimed downward for nearly all of the last student council meeting.”
Lucifer’s finely trimmed brows furrowed. “What do you mean to say, Diavolo?”
“What I mean to say is that you're in desperate need of rest and recreation, and I’ll stop time if I must to give it to you.”
Lucifer closed his eyes, as if he could cease his blushing by concealing it from his own view. “Thank you, Diavolo. I’ll do my best to focus my mind on the evening before us as opposed to the day I’ve had.”
“If it’d help to ease your mind, I could send Barbatos over to the House of Lamentation to keep an eye on your brothers.”
“That shouldn’t be necessary. I wouldn’t want to prevent him from fulfilling his duties at the castle.”
“I already instructed him to set up the refreshments in the courtyard, so his services shouldn’t be required at the castle for the rest of the evening.”
Lucifer looked into Diavolo’s eyes while considering the offer. Those shimmering glimpses of sunshine, pleading for the opportunity to deliver his companion from a fraction of his stress. “...Send him over. But tell him that he should call me the moment my brothers step out of line.”
As they reached the grandiose entrance of the Demon Lord’s castle, the young lord slipped his hand from Lucifer’s shoulder into his back pocket, the sudden intrusion giving the Avatar of Pride a start.
“Diavolo!” Lucifer hissed. “At least wait until we’re inside!”
The price gave a genuinely inquisitive look as he retracted his hand, now holding Lucifer’s DDD in his grasp. “I was merely silencing your DDD. Don’t worry, I’ll do the same with mine. I don’t want anything to distract us from each other’s company!” He said the last sentence with one of his characteristically luminous smiles.
As the two demons walked into the castle’s golden foyer, Lucifer couldn’t help but recall the day that he, the pride of the Celestial Realm, had first entered this opulent palace. He’d thought it garish, overindulgent. A shimmering monument to the vanity and conceit of demonkind.
Looking back on it, the architecture around him wasn’t all that different from that of the Celestial Palace.
The memories now hitting him like a flood, Lucifer began to recall his first encounter with the man who now walked beside him. How dissimilar to the caricatures of demons he had been raised on Diavolo was!
What deception is he hiding behind this facade? The angel Lucifer had dwelled on that thought as Diavolo proved himself to be sincere again and again. Eventually, the doubts that he felt were no longer about the young prince, but about his own state of being.
Diavolo was the antithesis of the demonic stereotype in ways that, centuries later, still managed to cause the Avatar of Pride’s breath to hitch; however, Diavolo had not proven himself to be completely free of sin. That was obvious from the recent feeling of his hand on Lucifer’s ass, a sensation that nearly brought the proud demon to shame at how he wished for it to return.
Lucifer absentmindedly removed the apple from his bouquet and took a delicate bite.
The duo’s idle chatter continued as they navigated the palace’s labyrinthine hallways and finally emerged onto the courtyard’s terrace, revealing an outside world cloaked in the prussian blue of perpetual midnight. Lucifer and Diavolo walked over to a table for two that Barbatos had set up beside the lake.
Across the small tabletop were several platters of various desserts, all elegantly plated and displayed intentionally to draw the eye to the intricate crafting that Barbatos had devoted to each individual pastry. In the center of the mini buffet sat a steaming tea kettle and two teacups. They were crafted from white porcelain and ornamented with streaks of fiery gold, a uniform tea set that Lucifer had gifted to the demon prince several decades back.
“Please, take a seat,” Diavolo’s politeness failed (and made no effort, Lucifer supposed) to conceal his enthusiasm as he pulled back a chair for his right hand man.
Lucifer hesitated a moment before wordlessly obliging. Somehow, he was still unaccustomed to receiving the princess treatment even after years of intimate companionship with the young lord.
Once the Avatar of Pride was settled comfortably into his seat, his jacket removed and draped over the chair’s back, the prince swiveled around the small table to sit opposite him.
While Diavolo was sitting down, Lucifer noticed a small empty vase placed beside the tea kettle, presumably meant to be a home for the bouquet that Diavolo had just gifted him. Lucifer noted the patterns on the vase; a cerulean peacock surrounded by draconic sigilesque carvings, all painted with the finest brushstrokes that he’d ever seen. He wouldn’t be surprised if Diavolo has personally commissioned the piece of pottery himself.
Lucifer untied the bouquet’s ribbon, freeing the stems and sliding the flowers into the vase, which he realized had already been filled with water.
He really thought of everything, Lucifer thought. Mammon had better not smash this one too.
“I’ve got quite the treat for us today!” Diavolo’s chipper tone reignited as he began pouring the steaming liquid, reaching over to Lucifer’s cup before filling up his own. “Barbatos acquired a rare tea leaf on a trip to the human world!”
“Ah, I recall him telling me something like that,” Lucifer responded after a small sip. The sweet tea was a delightful burn on his waiting lips. “He told me he was saving it for a special occasion.”
His eyes drifting upwards to reflect the stars, the prince’s voice faded momentarily into an uncharacteristic quietness. “What could be more special than this?”
Lucifer said nothing, electing instead to burn his lips once more.
Diavolo’s gaze slid down to the tea, his golden irises a sunset in the steamy air. He exhaled, absentmindedly tapping a nail on the opalescent tabletop.
Lucifer exhaled back in return. Diavolo didn’t need to speak to make himself clear; the tone and volume of his sigh communicated his thoughts wordlessly.
This is tranquil, his breath spoke. But I desire more from your company.
The silence was a luxury rarely afforded to the fallen angel, and it was one he was often willing to overpay for. However, Diavolo’s downcast demeanor was still too high a price.
“Would you care for a game of chess?”
Diavolo lit up. “Why, but of course! I shall retrieve the chess set at once!” He hummed, taking one final sip of tea before hopping up from his seat and jogging towards the palace.
The raven haired demon continued drinking his beverage with only the silent company of the stars, consciously reminding himself to loosen his grip on the cup and release the tension in his spine. He needn’t carry himself with calculation at this moment; it was just him, his tea, the sky, and soon his partner would return to play their favorite game. A small, cheerful grin began to form on Lucifer’s face.
Tch. Had his brothers caught a glimpse of that face, adorned with a smile as delicate as the porcelain of his teacup, they’d never let him hear the end of it.
Diavolo returned shortly, ornately carved chess set in hand. His expression grew brighter and more boyish by the second as moved the pastries aside, replacing them with the board.
“Would you like to be white or black?” The prince asked, not waiting for Lucifer’s response before placing the black queen down before him.
“Black, as usual.”
“That’s what I thought you’d say.”
Diavolo placed the remainder of the black pieces in silence, piping up as he moved on to his own white pieces.
“I propose a wager.”
“Oh?”
“The loser must do whatever the winner commands.”
Lucifer smirked. “...Alright, I’ll agree to your wager, but I assure you I won't go down easily.”
“Don’t worry, Lucifer. I won’t make you wear the butler costume again when I win.”
“‘When’? I believe you mean if you win.”
The two demons continued their banter as they took to the game, so accustomed to one another’s strategies that it became more of an opportunity for conversation than the supreme intellectual challenge it had once been in the early years of their relationship.
While pushing his first pawn forward, Diavolo sighed, complaining of how half the bureaucrats in the House of Lords insisted on opposing every decision that he made.
Mirroring the young lord’s opening move, Lucifer reminded Diavolo that he was the Devildom’s final authority, and that no noblemen, no matter their wealth or proximity to power (an unsubtle jab at Mephistopheles’ family), could prevent him from seeing to his goals.
Several checks, cups of tea, pastries and eventually glasses of vintage demons later, the topic had shifted from pushback on Diavolo’s progressive policies to ideas for new RAD events to remembering how they’d promised not to talk about work to how nice it was to get away from all that nonsense for a while.
By the time Lucifer had encircled Diavolo’s king, they had all but forgotten their positions in the world (and they hadn’t much regard for the positions of their pieces on the board either).
“I do believe that’s checkmate, Diavolo,” that Avatar of Pride flippantly proclaimed, taking a smug sip of his demonus.
Diavolo sighed, tracing the rim of his glass with a gentle fingertip and looking across at his victorious companion with a cartoonish gaze of awe.
“You’ve transformed so much since we first met. And yet, your beauty remains the same.”
Caught off guard, Lucifer sat with his glass frozen at his lips for a beat before responding. “Don’t think you can flatter your way out of this defeat. Charming as you may be.”
“Charming?” Diavolo replied with a deep chuckle.
Lucifer huffed, setting down his demonus and replacing its place in his lax grip with Diavolo’s hand. “When you choose to be.”
Diavolo’s truth discerning ability had never failed him, and in this moment it was telling him that Lucifer was entirely sincere.
“So,” the prince breathed, scooting in closer. “You’ve won our bet. What is your command?”
“I’d be content to continue on as we are. Shall I command you to get us more refreshments?” He lifted his nearly empty wineglass.
Diavolo frowned. “There’s nothing…special that I could do for you?”
“And what is it exactly that you have in mind, Diavolo?”
“Well, you’ve seemed so tense lately…”
A coy twinkle of lust shone in the pale demon’s ruby eyes.
“Go on.”
“I’d like you to command me to massage your back!”
A slight blush colored the older demon’s cheeks.
“Diavolo.”
Hearing his name in Lucifer’s characteristically deep timbre, the prince’s face sparkled.
“Yes?”
“I command you to escort me to your bedchambers and rub all the tension out of my back.”
Diavolo made no secret of his pleasure. “I’d be delighted to!”
He rose with a flourish of his hand, extending it to help Lucifer out of his seat. They departed from the courtyard more intertwined than ever, leaving the table for Barbatos to clean and reorganize upon his return.
The lovers made their way inside, and as they sauntered across satin rugs and under barrel vaulted columns, their intertwined hands made their way up each other’s forearms and spines. As Diavolo and Lucifer ascended the gilded staircase, they began to compete for whose arm would be the one to lead their march forth, and whose arm would drape over the leading man.
Lucifer chastised Diavolo for snaking his fingers around his waist, accusing him of trying to move their tryst forward without proper time and preparation.
Diavolo smirked playfully in response. He could see that they were equally desperate for one another, and Lucifer’s show of performative lecturing was merely his way of opening a window into his lust.
But Diavolo could’ve figured that out based on the fact that Lucifer’s hand had been on his ass since they first stepped into the hallway.
At long last, the demons made their way through Diavolo’s slender doorway, emerging into a room that contrasted greatly with the main hallway in both size and lighting. The golden ornamentation and high ceilings of the palace outside only served to make the lamplit concrete and marble that now surrounded them seem even smaller and more intimate.
Diavolo tossed off his jacket, flinging it over an armchair.
“Shall I begin?” He breathed.
Lucifer had already begun guiding Diavolo’s hand toward his shirt collar before the prince could conclude his statement.
“You shall,” Lucifer chucked, his lips encroaching on Diavolo’s with each exhalation. “And you shall follow my command to the word; you will not leave here until I am relieved of all tension.”
Even though he was to be the one performing the service that night, Diavolo couldn’t help but feel that Lucifer had given him a gift. The privilege of being ordered around was a reprieve that he did not realize he needed until it had been granted to him.
Diavolo’s hands trailed across Lucifer’s chest, undoing his tie before making their way to the front of his waistcoat. After undoing each of the white buttons, Diavolo slid the satiny fabric off Lucifer’s shoulders, sending it cascading towards the floor with a delicate thump.
The young lord and his right hand man began shuffling towards the bed, Lucifer guiding as Diavolo worked the buttons of his companion’s grey dress shirt.
Their waltz concluded with a plop down onto the wonderfully comfortable bedsheets, arms and gazes interlocking.
Diavolo’s breath hitched as his amber eyes met with Lucifer’s vermillion stare.
The prince cupped his lover’s face in his left hand, thumb tracing small circles on Lucifer’s cheek.
“Do you intend to continue undressing me, or are you satisfied merely undressing me with your eyes?”
“I truly cannot help admiring you, but if you’re so insistent…” Diavolo interrupted himself by leaning in closer to Lucifer, bringing their lips together in a teasing and tender kiss. “...Then I won’t prolong your pleasure any longer.”
The prince placed his right palm to Lucifer’s chest, lingering above his heart for an instant before giving him a rough yet playful shove down onto the bed. Before Lucifer had a moment to react, Diavolo grasped his partner’s waist and flipped him onto his stomach, keeping him pinned with a firm hand on his back.
“So? Where shall I begin?”
Lucifer looked back over his shoulder, flashing his signature half-lidding smirk. The expression that was condescending to most was unbearably alluring to Diavolo.
“The shoulders.”
The larger demon happily obliged, positioning himself on his knees with Lucifer sprawled out beneath him. Once adequately situated, Diavolo grasped each of Lucifer’s shoulders, right at the end of his pallid neck, and pressed into them with a simultaneously assured and tender firmness.
Head falling lazily against the pillow, Lucifer stifled a satisfied moan. He hadn’t realized how absurdly stiff he’d been, even after consciously reminding himself to unclench his muscles.
“So finely muscled…” Diavolo muttered, dragging a soft finger across Lucifer’s upper arm with one hand and continuing the massage with the other.
“Hmph, and just what do you intend to gain with such flattery?”
“Oh, loosen up, will you?” The prince chuckled, “It’s just you and me.”
After spending a good six minutes over the top of Lucifer’s scapula, Diavolo drifted down to his upper back, alternating between pressing into it with his palms and rubbing precise, circular patterns with his fingertips.
“You’re-ngh-excellent at this.”
Diavolo grinned. “That’s because I’m doing it especially for you!”
The further down that Diavolo’s busy hands traveled, the more Lucifer felt himself settling into the sea of blankets. It had taken him centuries to reach this level of comfort with Diavolo, and with every caress and rub on his chilly flesh, he was a little more thankful for the trust that they had built.
Diavolo’s black tipped fingers migrated downward, leaving Lucifer’s shoulderblades and approaching his slender waist.
The fallen angel’s head of greying ebony hair reflexively shot up as the prince’s hand brushed the small of his back, a little to the right of his spine. In his humanesque form, the scars that marked where his white wings once sprouted from were not visually apparent, but he could still sometimes feel them as though the wounds were still fresh. Not so much a phantom limb, but a memory so painful that it had cemented itself in his flesh.
“Ah.” Diavolo paused for a moment before resuming the motion of his fingers elsewhere. “I’ll…I’ll be gentle.”
Lucifer huffed, breathing to still his suddenly accelerated heartbeat as he gradually lowered his head back down to the pillow.
He melted into Diavolo’s hands for a few minutes that felt like hours before his head rose reflexively yet again in response to a rough push against a particular knot near his glutes. It hurt in exactly the way he needed, earning a deep, involuntary moan.
“Aaah~”
Diavolo gave a deep laugh, pressing against the same spot while leaning forward to give his lover a soft kiss on the back of his neck. “Feels good, Lucifer?”
To Diavolo’s surprise, his head was prevented from rising. Lucifer had twisted his arm so that he could entangle his fingers in the prince’s auburn hair, trapping Diavolo’s lips so close to Lucifer’s flesh that he could feel the small hairs rising along his spine.
“Feels good indeed, Diavolo,” Lucifer’s velvety voice teased. “Continue on like this and I may need to return the favor.”
The dark tone of Diavolo’s cheeks turned a hint darker. Oh, how he adored a bold lover.
“I’ve noticed that the muscles in your glutes are particularly tense, Lucifer.”
“Hm?” Lucifer’s lashes lowered. “And what exactly do you plan to do about that, Diavolo?”
The fallen angel glanced up over his shoulder, flaunting that tempting smile once more as he released the prince’s skull from his grasp.
“Well, it certainly seems like I’ve succeeded in taking your mind off work,” Diavolo jested.
Lucifer sighed. “You win, Diavolo.” His voice and expression were both undeniably soft. “But then again, you always do.”
“That’s not true. You won at chess today, did you not?”
“And yet you’ve still found your way on top of me.”
With that, the demons bent towards each other, closing the distance between their lips as they sunk deeper into their entanglement. Together, the demon prince and his right hand man formed an embrace that would carry on throughout the night, marble and gold keeping them concealed from the perpetually shining moon.