Chapter Text
Alastor has always prided himself on his ability to accurately timekeep, without the aid of a clock or alarm.
It’s a useful skill to have, here in Hell, where there is no sun tracking across the sky that one may use to discern the time of day, and every pocket watch Alastor has managed to get his hands on is of exceptionally poor quality, draining its battery in just a handful of weeks.
Having an accurate internal clock is essential. It allows him to avoid being late to any and all of the poorly scheduled Overlord meetings, and helps him ensure that the rare nap he allows himself to take does not last longer than a couple of hours.
All in all, it’s an invaluable asset in his day to day life. This is an indisputable fact. A fact Alastor has been continually repeating in his mind like a mantra for the past handful of minutes. Because, as handy as this internal clock of his often is, Alastor must admit, there are times where it is not always appreciated.
Times such as this, for example. Where Alastor’s internal clock is insistently nagging him that he is coming dangerously close to when he is meant to be going live with his morning radio show.
This puts Alastor in a bit of a predicament, seeing as he currently finds himself rather occupied with other matters .
“Fuck, Alastor.” Lucifer pants soft and needy onto Alastor’s tongue. His legs rest on either side of Alastor’s waist, his body bent over Alastor’s own to allow him to repeatedly drag Alastor into kiss, after kiss, after fervent kiss.
Alastor indulges him to the best of his abilities, meeting each press of Lucifer’s lips with his own brand of inexperienced enthusiasm. He’s uncertain of how long they’ve spent like this, tangled in each other's arms, lost in the sensation of each other's attention. After he and Lucifer had finished their discussion, agreeing to continue engaging in secret, casual sex, Lucifer had dragged him into another round of kissing, and Alastor had lost track of time from there.
Well, as best as he could, it’s been rather difficult to ignore the figurative ticking of the clock as Alastor’s broadcast rapidly approaches.
Now that he’s run the clock down to the point where he is presumably on the cusp of being late to his own show for the first time in over a year, Alastor finds himself at a crossroads for how he should proceed.
On the one hand, Alastor has not missed a single one of his broadcasts since returning to the entertainment scene after his seven year long ‘sabbatical’. Even in the weeks where Adam’s residual energy had been slowly decaying the very fiber of his soul, Alastor has still managed to suck it up and put on a great performance.
At his very core, Alastor is, and always has been, an entertainer. Valuing his craft above all else.
Now, on the other hand,
Alastor lets out a soft groan as Lucifer slides his tongue against Alastor’s own. Sharp claws trace featherlight up and down Alastor’s neck, drawing invisible patterns into the fine fur.
Alastor’s own hands wander across Lucifer’s bare chest, content in mapping the warm, pliant skin with his fingertips. He drags his fingers up Lucifer’s sternum, traces them along his collar bones, then drags them back down his chest. The tips of his claws catching on Lucifer’s nipples, still puffy from where Alastor had sucked them into his mouth a handful of minutes ago.
Lucifer’s breath hitches at the contact, a stuttering moan falling from his mouth to Alastor’s, who swallows it down hungrily.
Lucifer sucks Alastor’s bottom lip between his teeth, and Alastor comes to realize, if he does plan to leave, he must do so now, before Lucifer tries to start something Alastor has no intention of finishing.
Even with this realization, It takes longer than it should for Alastor to pull away, finding a great deal of enjoyment in being nibbled on by the Devil. When he finally does break the two of them apart, it’s with a regretful sigh.
“I have to be on my way now.” Alastor taps lightly on Lucifer’s shoulder, signalling him to get off so Alastor may stand up.
Lucifer does not budge. Instead, he groans low and displeased, burying his face into Alastor’s hair while squeezing him a fraction tighter in his hold.
“Charlie’s not expecting us in the lobby ‘till twelve. That’s hours away.” Lucifer leans back in, trying to recapture Alastor’s lips in a kiss, but Alastor tilts his head to the side. Lucifer’s lips land against Alastor’s cheek. Instead of taking the hint and moving away, Lucifer trails soft kisses up the side of Alastor’s face, and nuzzles into his hairline.
Alastor’s eyes flutter shut as Lucifer weaves one of his hands through his hair and scratches at the base of his ear. A soft sigh falls from his lips, and he allows himself five seconds to enjoy the pleasant feeling before he forces his eyes back open and increases his efforts to dismount Lucifer from his body.
“That’s irrelevant. I’m set to host a broadcast this morning.” Alastor shoves at Lucifer’s shoulder’s with a tad more pressure. “Now, off.” His voice holds a stern edge to it, meant to convey Alastor is serious in his intentions on leaving.
This time, Lucifer listens. He sits back on his haunches, straddling Alastor’s waist, his fingers splayed across Alastor’s chest.
“Can’t you skip it?”
Alastor struggles not to lose himself in the absolute vision the angel makes. Debauched like this. Sex mused hair. Swollen, kiss bitten lips, twisted up into an adorably pitiful little pout. Cheeks flushed with the colours of sunlight. Sitting atop Alastor, clad in nothing but his unbuttoned dress shirt.
He looks absolutely divine.
Before he can succumb further to the Devil’s temptation, Alastor pulls himself out from underneath Lucifer. He sits up, straightening his clothing out the best he can, re-buttoning the top two buttons of his dress shirt Lucifer had at some point undone, along with tightening his bow tie.
“I can, but I do not want to.”
Alastor fails to mention that he doesn’t particularly want to leave Lucifer’s company either, but his personal opinions on the matter are neither here nor there. He’s spent plenty enough time exploring Lucifer for one morning, and it would be wise of him to end this encounter sooner rather than later.
He had already made excellent progress in his plans of winning Lucifer’s favour, securing this new arrangement with Lucifer with hardly any effort. It’s best for him to leave now, give himself some space to process and devise a proper plan of how he should now proceed. There is nothing for Alastor to gain by staying here any longer.
As they say, it’s always best to leave them wanting more.
Alastor turns his back to Lucifer as he twists round onto his knees. Planting one foot on the ground, he goes to step off the couch.
Before he can even fully stand up, however, a firm grip wraps around his other ankle, and with a quick yank, Alastor loses his footing, falling face first into the plush cushions beneath him.
What?
Without giving him a single moment to recover from the disorienting state of confusion he’d been so rudely dragged into, Lucifer pounces on him.
Alastor’s front is pressed firmly into the couch, his body held in place as Lucifer’s inhumanly dense weight is draped across his back. Heavy and unyielding to Alastor’s clumsy attempts at bucking him off.
“What the hell do you think you are doing?” Alastor all but screeches the words out, voice thick with static.
He struggles in Lucifer’s hold, his thrashing driven by instinct and indignation at being restrained. Lucifer holds him down easily.
Hot breath fans against the back of Alastor’s neck, creating an intense and immediate effect of making Alastor’s every hair stand on end. Alastor quivers in Lucifer’s hold as the sensation runs through him like white hot static.
Arousal sparks to life low in his gut.
Alastor ignores it, redoubling his efforts to escape. He brings his knees under him, maneuvering his legs into a better position to give him a bit of leverage. He pushes his back up against Lucifer’s chest, but his attempts to dislodge him are futile. Lucifer doesn’t budge. His unnatural weight granting him an advantage that Alastor can’t possibly hope to compete with.
Leaving Alastor feeling akin to a single sheet of paper crushed beneath the weight of a boulder.
Alastor does everything to twist himself free, except for the one thing he knows will remove himself from Lucifer’s grasp; dissolving himself into shadows.
It would be so easy, to call on his powers, to melt into the darkness.
Yet, he doesn’t use them. He doesn’t even think to.
Because, evidently, Alastor likes this.
As insane as that is.
“Lucifer.” The word is barely discernible behind the layers of warbling static coating Alastor’s tongue.
Though that hardly matters, seeing as Lucifer doesn’t bother granting him the decency of a response. Ignoring him in favour of raking his hands up Alastor’s sides.
Pointed claws are kept up and out of the way as the pads of Lucifer’s fingertips press in deep enough to draw indents in Alastor’s skin, even through the layers of his suit. The pressure isn’t painful, but it’s undoubtedly noticeable.
Alastor can’t help but relax into the touch, finding a soothing sort of pleasure in the sensation.
Ink black fingers push his shoulders down flat against the cushion, before gliding confidently down Alastor’s arms, pulling them out from underneath Alastor and lifting them up above his head. Once Lucifer’s hands reach each of Alastor’s wrists, he holds them in a firm grip, pressing them further into the couch below.
Soft kisses are pressed into the vertebrae up the back of Alastor’s neck, sharp teeth teasingly nipping at the delicate skin.
Alastor's breathing grows ragged. All of his senses are sharpened, picking up on the slightest bits of stimulation alighting along his body. He's stopped struggling now. Waiting in anticipation for Lucifer's next move.
Lucifer’s voice rumbles low and seductive, the vibrations sending shivers down Alastor’s spine. “Are you familiar with the colour system, Alastor?”
Oh fuck.
“Yes.” Alastor growls the word out like a warning, his intensity nothing but poorly concocted bravado.
Lucifer hums in approval, paying no mind to his sharp tone. He leans up Alastor’s body, and Alastor can’t even hope to stifle the deep shiver that rocks through him when he feels Lucifer’s forked tongue drag up the edge of his ear.
Lucifer squeezes Alastor’s wrists gently, and leans a bit more of his weight into Alastor’s body.
“Tell me your colour.”
Feigning indifference, Alastor lets out a long, put upon sigh, and mumbles out the word in an exasperated breath, “green.”
Lucifer nuzzles into the side of Alastor’s neck, nipping at the skin just below his jaw. “Yeah?”
The pure elation in Lucifer’s voice is enough to make Alastor’s head spin. Hearing how badly Lucifer wants him, how he’s all but begging Alastor to stay, It makes it nearly impossible for Alastor to refuse him.
Nearly.
Unfortunately for Lucifer, Alastor isn’t that easy.
“That being said, I really would prefer to be on time for my broadcast.”
A soft sigh escapes past Lucifer’s lips, the warm air against Alastor’s neck sending a pleasant prickling sensation down Alastor’s spine.
Though he can’t see Lucifer from this position, Alastor can feel the way Lucifer’s head moves in a resigned nod from where it's pressed in the space between Alastor’s shoulder blades.
Lucifer uses his thumbs to rub at the soft fur of Alastor’s inner wrists. “In that case, how long have we got?”
“I’m set to go live at nine sharp.”
“Ah.” All at once, Lucifer’s movements stop. “Yeah, It’s eight fifty four. Didn’t realize we were cutting it that close.”
Lucifer releases Alastor’s wrists from his hold and climbs off of his back. Cool air washes over Alastor’s frame in the absence of Lucifer’s warmth. The sensation comparable to having the blankets ripped off one sleeping frame in the middle of the night.
Immediately, Alastor finds himself regretting his decision to leave.
“Wait.” Alastor refuses to acknowledge that the word comes out sounding like a borderline whine.
“Just,” Alastor pauses, weighing his response on his tongue for a moment before letting it fall from his mouth. “Be quick about it.”
“Oh?” Lucifer sounds genuinely surprised by Alastor’s words. Alastor can’t fault him for that, he feels the same. “What happened to nine sharp?”
Regrettably, it appears Alastor truly is ‘that easy’.
“I’ve changed my mind.”
Lost his mind, more like it.
Alastor is finding it difficult to reconcile with the newly awakened side of himself who falls victim to sexual temptation.
“Yeah? You sure? You don’t want to leave your audience hanging now, do you?” Lucifer’s tone is teasing, but Alastor can hear the hint of sincerity hidden deep beneath his words. As though he’s checking in to ensure Alastor is truly alright with staying. That it is of his own volition, and not simply an appeasement to Lucifer’s whining.
A charming sentiment, really, but his worry is wasted on Alastor.
He is simply not the type who burdens himself to appease others. He would not have said yes if he did not want to be here.
“I don’t care. Better them than me, as far as I’m concerned.” Alastor huffs, annoyed at being questioned. He’s perfectly aware he’s contradicting himself. He really doesn’t need Lucifer to point that out for him.
Cementing his decision, Alastor lies back down on the couch, lifting his arms back up above his head to where Lucifer had pinned them. Looking back over his shoulder, Alastor catches Lucifer gaze, admiring how his pupils are blown wide, eyes darkened with lust. “Now, come finish what you started.”
Lucifer’s eyes tinge red. He chuckles, playful and dark. “Well, if you insist.”
In an instant, Lucifer descends upon him, his weight returning, enveloping Alastor in that crushing sort of comfort he had so quickly grown to miss.
Dark hands wrap firmly around Alastor’s thin wrists, keeping them in place when Alastor jerks in surprise at the feel of Lucifer’s hot tongue dragging up his neck.
“Fuck, that was so hot. You know that?”
Alastor didn’t, but he’s pleased to hear it.
“Anything in particular you’d like to do, pretty buck?”
Alastor shivers at the ridiculous term of endearment. Thoroughly disappointed in himself for how agreeable he finds it.
“No. You can choose.” After a moment of contemplation, Alastor tack on, “so long as we can stay in this position.”
“Oh? Do you like being held down, sweetheart?”
Apparently so.
Though Alastor is not exactly sure why. He had never pegged himself as a person who would enjoy submitting to another in such a way.
Even still, despite the restrictive position he’s allowed Lucifer to put him in, he doesn't particularly feel like he’s submitting himself to Lucifer.
Lucifer’s weight settles along him like a strange sort of comfort, protecting him, rather than restricting him.
He doesn’t quite feel like he’s giving up control either. Even with his hands bound, his body unable to move from this spot, Alastor feels no more at Lucifer’s mercy than he had kneeling at the Devil’s feet.
No, Alastor doesn’t feel like he is being dominated. He just feels lazy, lying here, with no expectations for him to do anything. And it’s nice, in a way, to be able to relax, free to bask in the pleasure Lucifer is so willing to provide him with.
“It’s interesting.”
Lucifer chuckles, low and seductive, his breath ghosting over the fine fur covering the back of Alastor’s neck, making it stand on end. “Alright. I can work with interesting.”
He leans up to press a soft kiss into Alastor's cheek.
“How do you feel about me fucking you?”
Alastor ponders the thought for a moment. While he’s never had sex before, he’s been penetrated plenty of times over the years by his own shadow tendrils, so he’s not especially nervous at the prospect.
“Yes. Alright.”
Lucifer hums a pleased little sound. He adjusts his grip on Alastor’s wrists, moving them so he can hold down both of Alastor’s arms with one hand. His now free hand trails down Alastor’s side, tugging at his belt loop.
“Mind if I take these off?”
“Go on.”
Lucifer unbuttons his slacks with a swift efficiency, shoving them midway down Alastor’s thighs, followed quickly by his boxers. Worming a hand beneath the fabric of Alastor’s dress shirt, Lucifer hikes the material further up his back, pushing it out of the way.
“Shit. I keep forgetting about your tail.”
Good. Alastor wishes he could forget about the blasted thing himself.
He would have chopped off the offending appendage years ago if he knew it wouldn’t just grow right back.
Alastor jolts as Lucifer’s fingertips trace up the length of his tail, petting it gently. “Does it hurt when I lay on it?”
The question catches Alastor off guard. Unused to having his comfort attended to.
“No. It feels quite alright.”
“Good.”
Lucifer settles his weight back onto Alastor, his tail becoming trapped between his lower back and Lucifer’s bare stomach. Above him, Lucifer shifts, using his knees to push Alastor’s thighs apart, widening the space between his legs.
It’s mildly humiliating, being exposed in such a way, and Alastor is suddenly very glad he is not facing Lucifer for this.
Alastor feels the first of Lucifer’s fingers gently prod against his entrance, the digit slicked with lube that Lucifer must have conjured into existence.
The finger circles his rim before entering him slowly.
Alastor lets out a soft sigh at the intrusion, willing himself to relax as Lucifer pumps his finger at a steady pace, pressing kisses into his shoulder blade.
As Alastor grows used to the touch, he finds himself quickly growing impatient at Lucifer’s slow pace. “I thought I told you to be quick about it.”
Lucifer splutters an exasperated laugh into Alastor’s shoulder, “this is me being quick.”
Alastor scoffs. “If you plan on bedding me for the foreseeable future, I implore you to have a bit more urgency. I grow bored rather easily.”
Lucifer chuckles to himself, but picks up the pace of his thrusts. It feels better, but still woefully inadequate.
"More."
Amusement rings clear in Lucifer's voice, his words coming out airy and melodic. “How about I just let you take over, sweetheart?”
Alastor bristles at the thought of having to put in any actual work. In his opinion, he’s been a plenty active participant in their sexual encounter thus far. He’d brought Lucifer to completion a grand total of three times in the last half hour. And now? Now, Alastor just wants to lay here and take it.
“No. I’m rather comfortable where I am.”
Lucifer snickers, nipping teasingly at Alastor’s shoulder blade. “You don’t have to move. I’m more than capable of following directions.”
“Ah, excellent. Well, in that case, if you could add another finger that would be-” Alastor’s breath hitches as Lucifer slowly pushes another finger into his entrance, “appreciated.”
Lucifer works the fingers in and out of his hole at a steady pace, scissoring them occasionally to help stretch him out.
Alastor hums out an appreciative little sigh and relaxes into the sensation.
“Now, if you could aim to actually hit my prostate-” Alastor’s words cut off in a screech of static as Lucifer hits his prostate dead on. “Yes, that’s-” forming words becomes difficult as white hot pleasure builds between his legs, “excellent.”
Alastor’s cock twitches deep inside his sheath, the stimulation not quite enough to give him an erection, but certainly enough to feel interested.
Lucifer kisses up Alastor’s spine, licking along his fur. "How's that, pretty buck?"
“Faster.”
Alastor chokes on a moan as Lucifer quickens his pace, his fingers fucking into his prostate with every thrust.
“Another.”
Lucifer slows his pace just long enough to work a third finger into Alastor’s hole, before quickly building back up his speed.
“Okay,” Alastor all but whimpers, “that’s enough.”
The fingers inside him slow to a halt, before they are gently removed, replaced quickly by the blunt feeling of Lucifer’s cock prodding at his entrance.
“Ready?” Lucifer snakes the hand he had used to prep Alastor beneath his torso, curling the now perfectly clean fingers around Alastor’s shoulder. He uses the arm to pull Alastor in closer, effectively hugging him to his chest, eliminating any space there had been between them.
“Yes.”
Lucifer presses in agonizingly slowly, feeding Alastor all of him in a single thrust until he’s bottomed out.
The stretch is more than Alastor had been expecting. But it’s good. So good.
When Lucifer starts to move, he sets a quick pace. Shallow thrusts aimed directly against Alastor’s prostate.
“Lucif- ah!”
Alastor shoves his face into the couch, but it does little to stifle the loud moans Lucifer is repeatedly dragging out of him with every thrust. Not that Lucifer seems to mind the noise, the Devil increases his speed, tugging Alastor in close as he rocks their bodies together, keeping his weight pressed into Alastor’s back while he fucks into him.
“That’s it, Alastor. Feel good? Fuck, you feel so good. So fucking good.”
The praise that falls from Lucifer’s mouth goes straight to Alastor’s cock. In the small amount of space between their two bodies, Alastor’s tail starts to wag, dragging back and forth against Lucifer’s stomach.
Working a hand beneath Alastor’s stomach, Lucifer rubs at the sensitive opening of Alastor’s sheath with the pads of his fingers.
Alastor twitches in Lucifer’s hold, bucking at the unexpected sensation, pushing Lucifer’s cock deeper into himself.
Fucking hell that’s good.
His cock throbs within his sheath, the building pressure Alastor feels signalling his growing erection under the attention of Lucifer’s skilled fingers.
Alastor can feel the moment the tip of his erection emerges from the confines of his sheath. It rubs uncomfortable against the upholstery of the couch and chills as the slick covered skin is exposed to the cool air.
Lucifer’s soft fingertips catch against Alastor’s exposed cock, and latch onto it immediately. He holds Alastor in a firm grip, swirling his thumb into the tip with an unrelenting precision.
Alastor’s static crackles in the air around them, the most embarrassing little sounds falling uncontrollably from his mouth, His fingers curl, sharp claws sinking through the upholstery like a hot knife through butter.
The pleasure is intense. Blinding. Alastor tries to pull away from it, instinctually seeking reprieve, but Lucifer holds him steady. Makes him take it.
And it’s good.
It’s fucking fantastic.
His orgasm hits him like a crashing tide, dragging Alastor beneath wave after wave of unrelenting pleasure. A stream of cum shoots from his cock, coating Lucifer’s fingers and the cushion beneath him.
Lucifer continues to fuck him through it, keeping a steady pace as he slowly eases off Alastor's prostate. He holds Alastor close, nibbling softly at the base of his neck and squeezing Alastor's wrists in his grip gently.
Once Alastor is finished riding out the waves of his orgasm, Lucifer carefully pulls out and removes his hand from his oversensitive cock. Delicate hands worm their way beneath Alastor’s torso, lifting him slightly. Alastor makes no protest, growing used to the Devil’s manhandling. Lucifer moves Alastor gently, tucking him in closer to the back of the couch before lying down in the space beside him on the edge of the couch.
Alastor turns towards Lucifer, shifting to lie on his side.
Lucifer greats him with a tired smile. His hair is wild, sticking up in all directions, the strands damp with gold tinted sweat. His breathing is heavy, chest rising and falling rapidly, mouth cracked open and panting as he tries to catch his breath. The single article of clothing he wears, his unbuttoned white dress shirt, is wrinkled to an absurd degree, looking as though the angel left it to sit in a crumpled heap on the floor all night before putting it right back on the next morning.
Objectively, he looks absolutely ridiculous, but for some reason, Alastor fails to find Lucifer’s disheveled state as anything short of endearing.
Besides, Alastor doubts he looks much better, with his slacks pooling around his knees, and his shirt and coat rucked halfway up his back.
If Lucifer thinks he looks ridiculous, he certainly doesn’t show it. And when Lucifer leans in, Alastor lets the angel guide him into a lazy kiss. It’s soft. Chaste. Only lasting a handful of seconds before Lucifer pulls away and settles back down into his spot.
He’s still got that smile on his face, looking sleepy and satisfied. Seemingly unbothered by his state of undress, or the strands of hair that have fallen in his eye.
Alastor’s hand moves on its own accord, and before he can even fully register what it is he is doing, he’s carefully tucking the stray strands of hair away from Lucifer’s face.
Lucifer blinks lazily, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and when Alastor moves to pull his hand back, Lucifer catches it in one of his own, bringing it back up to his face. Without breaking eye contact, Lucifer presses a soft kiss into the pads of Alastor’s fingertips.
A warm fluttering ignites in Alastor’s chest at the sight, the feeling overwhelming in its unfamiliarity. Alastor’s not certain he’s ever felt anything quite like it before.
It’s not an unpleasant feeling, by any means, it’s just… strange.
Intimate.
Alastor isn’t sure what to make of that.
“So,” Lucifer severs the silence between them with unapologetic clarity. He lets go of Alastor’s hand in favour of reaching out to trace his thumb featherlight across Alastor’s bottom lip, a devilish smirk tugging at the edge of his grin. “Think you have time for one more round?”
With a swift push to the centre of his chest, Alastor shoves Lucifer off the edge of the couch, sending him tumbling to the carpet as the angel devolves into a fit of roaring laughter.
Bastard.