When Charlie was small, hardly more than a toddler, her pale hair bound up in pigtails and her giggles childish-sweet, there were times she'd have nightmares.
Looking back on it, it made perfect sense, she was a small child growing up in Hell, what the fuck were he and Lilith even thinking, bringing a kid into this world?
While she lived in the palace, Lucifer tried to protect her from as much of that as he could. She played in the safety of their garden, he'd been careful choosing her playmates, trying to let her grow up as normal as was possible in Hell, and he knew Lilith continued with that even after they left.
He thought they did a pretty good job, all things considered and surely he could take a little of the credit for the wonderful person Charlie grew up to be. But even the most well-balanced soul in the universe would have the occasional nightmare and Charlie was no exception, especially in her toddler years.
She'd come into his room late at night, dragging a toy or a ragged blanket behind her and wake him, all wide, wet eyes as she told him she had a bad dream.
Lucifer never hesitated to scoop her right into bed with him for soothing cuddles. He was always alone anyway, Lilith never slept —she'd given it up when she became a demon— and was only ever in their bed for reasons of sex which was less and less frequent after Charlie was born.
On those late nights Charlie would snuggle in close and Lucifer would tell her fantastical stories, weave gentle illusions to soothe young, frightened ears, or he'd sing to her until she drifted off again.
He remembered those nights fondly; she was hardly ever still in bed with him when he woke and he was never sure if her mother came to claim her or if she left on her own.
Lucifer himself never had nightmares, he didn't even dream when he was asleep, he was a dreamer in a more literal fashion. Whether that was a mercy from God or a curse was open to interpretation. Whenever he woke, it wasn't from anything racy or horrible or even as bland as admitting to forgetting his homework while standing naked in a classroom. He woke from blank nothingness, the shoals of his sleep were empty, and Lucifer really had no complaints about it, couldn't miss what you never had.
So by the first occasion he was woken in the middle of the night by Alastor, it'd been some time since someone else's nightmare woke him and Alastor was only the second person to ever have done so.
That he did it twice in as many weeks did not speak kind things about Alastor and sleep.
Lucifer didn't know what exactly woke him. The bed shaking, maybe, or the quiet whimpers that replaced the soft jazz. Once he awoke, though, he knew the problem immediately even though he was still half-asleep himself when he sat up and whispered through the darkness, "Alastor?"
That Alastor didn't react was no surprise, anything loud enough to be heard over his own whimpers was enough to startle him awake and that was something Lucifer was trying to avoid. He crawled over to that side of the bed cautiously, better to get the lay of the land before trying to bulldoze through.
At some point, Alastor had kicked the blankets off and they surrounded him, tiny mountains around the valley of the mattress. Alastor was curled up even tighter than his normal, and despite the beads of sweat standing out on his bare skin, he shivered hard enough to shake the bed and those pitiful little frightened cries filled the air around him along with a wavering, eerie glow of green.
Oh. Lucifer's heart ached at the sight, knowing Alastor would hate that he'd seen him this way.
What did Alastor dream about at night? What frightened him? Did he pull away to his own side of the bed because of the nightmares or did he have nightmares because he pulled away?
More to the point what would wake him without him hurting himself or others? Lucifer had a little experience now in Alastor waking up the Bad Way and he was not eager for a repeat and while none of them knew it, neither did anyone else on this floor. This probably wasn't quite what Husk meant when he said the powerful made their problems everyone else's but in Lucifer's opinion it certainly qualified.
What to do to mitigate the possible damage, what to do. He could encase the entire bed in a shield, so even if Alastor woke up swinging, any destruction would be contained. Yeah, contained to the bed and Alastor himself, that was unacceptable. But so was letting Alastor suffer his way through it, damn it, so there had to be a way, fuck, it'd been a long, long time since Lucifer felt as helpless as he did all too often around Alastor.
He couldn't listen to this all night, couldn't stand to let Alastor suffer, could barely stand to remember he'd thought before that Alastor probably deserved this. Maybe he did, maybe not, Lucifer couldn't know the sins of Alastor's past, but he knew he wasn't going to sit here and do nothing. Not when there should be something he could do to stop it, if he could only figure out what and not just sit here like a helpless, heartsick fool who couldn't even figure out how to wake his…his…
(Lover?)
..wake Alastor up.
A flash of crimson caught his eye and Lucifer looked up. On the wall over the headboard, Alastor's shadow was writhing like a dying insect, the red slash of its grin wavering, and its wild gestures seemed accusing.
Lucifer gestured back, furiously, what the fuck you want me to do? Waking Alastor didn't end well, even simply touching him didn't either, so how? He'd decided after the whole 'Love Bug' event that if this shadow wasn't entirely trustworthy it at least had Alastor's best interests somewhat in mind, if it possessed a mind, anyway. So, let's see it come up with a bright idea.
Right now, the shadow was pantomiming, waving its hands in a way that seemed familiar…like a conductor. Music? Music would make sense, the jazz in the air had been replaced by silence and the occasional burst of static.
But what music? Lucifer didn't really know much in the way of nightclub jazz. A random idea popped into his head, community theater, right? The lead in 'My Fair Lady', that was the line Alastor fed him and he'd fallen for it hook, line, and sinker at the time. Let's see if it could actually be useful, wasn't like Lucifer had any other bright ideas.
"It's rather dull in town, I think I'll take me to Paree," Lucifer began, almost more of a whisper than a song. He went on, hesitantly, "The mistress wants to open up the castle in Capri." The static in the room faded into soft accompanying music, oddly bright and lively in the dark room, carrying his voice along as he sang, softly, "Oh, wouldn't it be loverly?"
The worst of the twitching slowed, Alastor's whimpers easing and, encouraged, Lucifer sang on, "Someone's head resting on my knee, warm and tender as he can be. Who takes good care of me. Oh, wouldn't it be loverly?"
The notes of the song faded along with the last words and Lucifer was trying to decide what to sing next when Alastor sat straight up with a shout. Lucifer very nearly shouted with him, braced to make a hasty escape, but Alastor only sat there, cold sweat dripping down his cheeks mingling with tears from his wet eyes.
"Alastor?" Lucifer asked cautiously, concerned and relieved at once. Hey, that was twice Alastor's shadow did him a solid. Handy, sure, but he still wasn't trusting the damn creepy thing.
Alastor whipped around, his damp hair clinging to his face as he looked at Lucifer wildly, uncomprehendingly. The crazed shine of his eyes faded into something else and Lucifer barely had time to flinch when Alastor was suddenly directly in front of him, their faces only inches apart.
"You're here," Alastor said, croaky and low. He caught hold of Lucifer by the shoulders, his thin fingers holding on painfully tight. "You're real, you're here."
"I'm real," Lucifer started to agree but the words were smothered beneath a sudden kiss, Alastor's mouth hot and urgent against his own.
Well, okay, then. He couldn't help Alastor with his nightmares, not in the more traditional manner but he could kiss him, could give him what he asked for not with words but with tongue and mouth, lips mashed painfully against his teeth by the force of Alastor's kiss.
Then there were words, gasped between their mouths.
"Fuck me," Alastor urged. They were bare against each other, Alastor's skin still clammy with sweat against Lucifer's warmer body, "make me not think."
"Alastor—" Lucifer tried but his attempt to speak was buried under another kiss.
"Please!" So close to begging and not the sexy kind Lucifer liked to hear.
"Okay, okay," Lucifer soothed. He cupped Alastor's damp face in his hands, thumbs sweeping over the tears still leaking down his cheeks. "Tell me what you want, I'll give it to you."
"Inside me, let me have you," Alastor said urgently. He was already trying to lie back, pulling Lucifer down with him between his spread knees. "Let me!"
Absolutely no part of this seemed wise. Alastor was still frantic from whatever haunted his dreams and they'd just had sex a few hours ago, enthusiastically so. So if someone could explain to Lucifer why he still wanted him so fucking much right now, he'd greatly appreciate it.
No answer came from above or below, there was only Alastor, the taste of his mouth and his sleep-tainted breath.
"Are you sure?" Lucifer asked between kisses, even as he struggled to reach the tube of lubricant stashed under his pillow, crumpled and mostly used up. "Aren't you sore?"
"No!" Clawed hands clutched at him, nails stinging against his shoulders. "Let me feel you inside me, let me forget—"
Forget what? Lucifer didn't know and didn't ask, he could give Alastor this if he wanted it. He could.
"Gently," Lucifer cautioned. "I won't hurt you."
"Yes, all right, anything," Alastor said, almost babbling.
He would've liked to take his time getting him ready, but Alastor's desperation was infecting him. Lucifer pressed two slick fingers into him, twisting them in perfunctory preparation, then drew Alastor's legs up over his shoulders, nearly bending him in half as he lined up and pushed in. The tightness of his ass around Lucifer's cock made his head swim with the sudden pleasure of it, and he pushed in too fast, bottoming out with a strangled sound. He dragged in a steadying breath to keep from moving immediately, to give Alastor a moment to adjust.
Alastor only hissed through his clenched teeth, his fingertips digging in hard enough to Lucifer's shoulders that a couple droplets of golden blood pattered down onto his bare chest like a scatter of coins. Alastor let go to reach down with gold-tipped fingers, swiping up those tiny droplets before licking his fingers clean.
The smears of gold against the voracious pink of his tongue made Lucifer jerk like he'd touched a live wire, he couldn't wait anymore. He pulled out slowly to the tip, sank back in, watched as Alastor's crimson eyes fell half-closed and he arched into the slow slide of Lucifer's cock inside him.
"Ah, fuck," Lucifer groaned out, and did it again, again, barely noticing the stinging cuts on his shoulders. "You always feel so good inside."
"Tell me?" Alastor urged, breathlessly, "tell me how I feel?"
"Hot, slick, fuck," Lucifer rolled his hips, already panting, heat settling at the base of his spine, "Tight, so fucking tight, I could fuck you forever, Alastor."
"My name, say my name!" Almost demanding and Lucifer would happily give Alastor that.
"Alastor, Alastor," Lucifer murmured, the name turned to an endearment in the gentle croon of his voice, becoming a chant as he moved inside him. "Alastor!"
He tried to stay slow and couldn't, Alastor was still so tight, clenching around him with every moan and whine, words dissolving into incoherent cries every time Lucifer sank in deep. He watched greedily as Alastor slipped a hand down between his legs, not jerking off only cupping his cock, palming the softness of it. Then he slipped his fingers further back to where Lucifer was moving inside him, the vee of his fingers on either side of Lucifer's cock, feeling where they were joined and his face was soft with the knowledge of it, his lips damp and parted, and fuck, how could he possibly be so gorgeous?
"I'm going to come," Lucifer groaned out. He pressed a kiss against the inside of Alastor's knee right by his head, open-mouthed and wet.
"Yes," Alastor agreed frantically, "do that, come inside me, fill me up, let me feel you in me."
Anything you want, anything you need, anything, Alastor, love—
Lucifer bit the inside of his lip to hold back the words trying desperately to escape, pressed deep inside a last time and tipped back his head as he came with a last cry, hissed through his teeth as he choked back words he couldn't say, not yet, not yet, not yet.
The heady pleasure of orgasm made Lucifer sag down, dimly hearing Alastor's breathing go labored as his knees were pushed up closer to his shoulders. God, so good, he could feel the warm pulse at the base of his spine, in his cock where they were still joined, and cool hands rubbed soothingly at his shoulders where the cuts were already healing, Alastor crooning wordlessly, gentle static and kisses against his sweaty hair soothing him back down.
It took an embarrassingly long time for Lucifer to work any strength back into his wobbly limbs, enough to push back up on his knees. He eased Alastor's legs back down to the bed as he pulled out and watched the pale spill of his come as it followed, smearing against Alastor's inner thighs, faintly golden and glinting wet.
Lucifer reached out and ran two fingers through the slippery wetness, rubbing it into Alastor's skin and told himself he wasn't pretending it was marking him, in a much more viscerally enticing way than pissing on his shoes. Alastor only watched him from beneath his lashes, crimson eyes sleepy soft.
A shame it wouldn't be as pleasant when it dried. Lucifer raised his hand to snap away the mess of it and Alastor caught him by the wrist.
"Not yet," he said, already drowsy, "let me feel it a little longer."
"All right," Lucifer agreed softly. He shifted down to lay on his back, pulling Alastor into his arms. He came willingly, settling the long, slim length of his body against Lucifer's, curling around him, head resting on his chest, the still-damp strands of his hair bright against pale skin. One leg was thrown over both of Lucifer's, his heel tucked in behind a knee, surrounding Lucifer with as much of himself as was physically possible. If Alastor was trying to cage him in for the night, then Lucifer was a willing bird on its perch, settling in to sleep.
It did leave the bare expanse of Alastor's back open to touch and Lucifer took advantage of it, trailing his fingertips down, tracing the slight bumps of his spine where sweat was still drying tacky on his silky skin.
Alastor only curled tighter against him, the radio inflection in his voice slurred as he said, "The irony that I feel safe in your arms does not escape me."
Oh.
Lucifer closed his eyes. Hearing that made every protective instinct he'd been trying to quash for the past week rear up. He'd been created as an angel, a guardian, protectiveness was built into him at his basest form and to hear Alastor might be asking for the tiniest sliver of that made the rest of his instincts want to claw at that crack, widen it, give him more.
Yes, he wanted that, whatever Alastor would allow, yes, please, let me, let me keep you safe.
Lucifer's arms tightened on reflex, enough that Alastor let out a small, surprised noise, not so much radioesque static as a high-pitched bleat.
Well, that was a well-timed distraction. Lucifer pushed up on an elbow and looked down at Alastor. Whose eyes were firmly closed as if he'd fallen asleep immediately afterward, so sorry, very tired, can't talk more.
"What was—"
"Nothing!" Alastor snapped, sounding much more awake than he showed. Oh, and wasn't that terribly interesting, that sounded like the exact opposite of nothing, now didn't it, mister oh, so defensive.
"That was not nothing," Lucifer said decisively. Not nothing at all, Lucifer was a shapeshifter, he knew exactly what that sound was, oh, yes, he did, and this time he switched tactics and cooed, "Awww, was that a cute little fawn—"
"If you finish that sentence, you're not saying another word for as long as it takes you to regrow your vocal cords after I tear them out. With my teeth."
"Okay, okay, yeesh, sensitive," Lucifer hesitated. It was late, he didn't have to say this now, except for how he really, really did. "Speaking of, I, um. That is…you can…I mean…I'll let you." The words were catching and clotting in his throat, as if they were afraid themselves of being spoken. He exhaled slowly, trying to calm the thunder of his heart in his chest, and tried again, "I'll let you see my wings."
"Good to know," Alastor said calmly. He didn't even open his eyes, what the fuck?
Okay, seriously? That was it?
"Asshole," Lucifer gave him a hard nudge and Alastor only rode the wave of it, still settled against his chest, "This is supposed to be monumental!"
That got him one eye opened, the crimson gleam of it bright in the dim light, "Were you hoping for a parade? Perhaps some confetti would soothe your sense of aesthetic?"
"A thank you would be nice," Lucifer said, wounded despite himself. "Something, anyway." Did Alastor really not get that this was a big deal to him or was it only that it was ass o'clock in the morning. Maybe he should have waited until tomorrow after all.
"Thank you," Alastor said, monotone. "I appreciate your reluctant possible trust in showing me wings that all the rest of the universe has already borne witness to. I have actually seen them before myself from a distance, during your little dance number with your daughter."
"Seen them, sure," Lucifer grumbled, "Seeing them is one thing. I told you, I've never let anyone else mess with them!"
"Wait." Alastor opened his eyes and tipped his chin to look up at him, that kissable little frown line appearing between his eyebrows. "You're going to let me touch them?"
"Don't you want to?" Seriously, maybe Lucifer needed to get his head checked because after fretting so much about this, now he was irrationally disappointed that Alastor might not want it after all. Was insanity contagious because it sure felt like Alastor's version of it might be catching.
That worry was doused when Alastor said, hesitantly, "Of course I do, but I wasn't expecting you to allow it."
Oh. Well, that was disappointing in a different way, in himself, that Alastor never even thought to expect that from him. He'd really only been asking to look, fuck's sake, no wonder he was so upset Lucifer told him no, how much distrust was that, that he wouldn't even give Alastor a solo visual?
He hadn't even been sure himself until right now how much he wanted Alastor to touch his wings and that cemented it for him. He could allow this, he would, for Alastor.
For now, Lucifer gave into that long-withheld urge and leaned down to kiss that little frown line. It deepened as Alastor's eyes nearly crossed trying to watch him. "Well, I am. Letting you. Touch. If you want."
"Good to know." The same words but they changed in inflection, as if it really was something good to know.
Alastor settled back against his chest and Lucifer pressed a kiss to the top of his head, carefully avoiding spearing himself on those little antlers. That place inside his chest felt strangely light and warm, right beneath where Alastor's cheek was pressed.
"Can you play something from 'My Fair Lady'?" Lucifer asked softly, and if he sounded a little giddy, Alastor didn't point it out.
Alastor only made a sleepy, amused sound. "I thought you would never ask."
A slower, soft version of 'I Could Have Danced All Night' began playing, filling the room and their ears, and Lucifer let it carry him off to a dreamless sleep.
'I only know when he, began to dance with me, I could have danced and danced, all night.'
-finis-
Series
Text:Lucifer would be the first to admit he wasn't sure if his fantasy of eating dinner with Alastor would pan out. Copious amounts of sex interspersed with drama didn't mean the more mundane moments would be a good time and as much as he'd hoped and dreamed it would go well, it was still a relief to be proven right.
First, it was good to see Alastor's table manners from family dinner night were in full force as he scooped up mouthfuls of rice and mystery meat, patting at his mouth with a napkin between bites. At least he was a tidier eater than when he was scarfing down loan sharks and only talked between bites rather than around mouthfuls as Angel was wont to do and seriously, Charlie's cooking was dubious enough without a visual of it mostly chewed.
What Lucifer wasn't expecting was how genuinely funnyAlastor could be. More than once, Lucifer found himself laughing around a mouthful of noodles while Alastor recounted stories from his life as a radio host, particularly the one where he was discussing the current state governor's reelection campaign and the man kept breaking explosive wind while they were on-air.
"Honestly, I was running out of excuses for how many cars could be backfiring outside of our studio," Alastor said. He wielded his chopsticks with impressive skill as both an eating device and a conversational gesture. "Every mechanic in the city must have been anticipating a rush of customers with carburetor issues. Unfortunately, the only broken carburetor was in an enclosed room with me and I don't mind saying it was one of the most difficult shows I've ever done. Even a professional such as myself can have difficulty maintaining their composure while trying not to suffocate."
Whatever comment Lucifer was going to add to that -something about politicians always being full of hot air, har har— fizzled out of his mind when Alastor turned to lean towards the table, exchanging the carton in his hand for a different one.
That in itself wasn't notable but that it put his beribboned tail on display was more than simply a distraction.
Lucifer had to grudgingly admit, it was fairly impressive how many silent excuses Alastor could come up with to lean over the table. Napkins, extra chopsticks when he dropped one of his to the floor, as if he hadn't just been twirling them between his fingers the same way he did his microphone, and once, for no reason at all, he just needed to stretch across the table and rearrange the packets of soy sauce and hot mustard, right, that was imperative, now wasn't it.
What he was going to end up with was a set of teeth in his ass.
Here he was again, practically shoving his tail into Lucifer's face, yeah, okay, there needed to be a lesson taught here. Teasing had consequences and Lucifer could not be held responsible when his restraint broke.
With a single gesture, all the cartons of food relocated to line up neatly at the edge of the table, including the one pulled directly from Alastor's hands.
He made a protesting sound, already reaching for the container again, "I beg your pardon, I was still eating tha—hey!"
Lucifer caught him by the hips and dragged Alastor into his lap and if he thought the difference in their height made it ridiculous, he didn't say so. Only squirmed and fussed until Lucifer was forced to tighten his grip just to keep him still, good god, how was he supposed to keep even a shred of control with this brat's ass rubbing against his crotch.
Alastor still could have gotten loose, he could have yanked himself out of Lucifer's hold, he could have melted into a shadow and vanished, he could have even cut Lucifer down with a well-aimed icy insult. That he didn't was thrilling, as arousing as having his tail right within reach and Lucifer didn't touch it, not yet, waited until Alastor gave in and stilled, his head twisting within normal constraints to ask over his shoulder, "Did you need something?"
"Oh, please, do excuse my manners," Lucifer said lightly. "I assumed you wanted my attention." His eyes were busy greedily taking in the sight of Alastor right in his lap, the way his pajama top rode up, just a little, baring an inch of tantalizing skin right above his waistband that begged for a mouth to investigate.
"Whatever gave you that idea?" Laughter curled around every word and Alastor tried to wriggle again, thwarted by Lucifer's hands tightening with bruising force on his hips.
Lucifer groaned out, "Maybe you shaking your ass in my face?"
"I was doing no such thing. I do wonder what goes on in your mind, it's always sex, sex, se--ah!"
A brief blurt of feedback squealed through the air as Lucifer dragged his fingers through the silky fur of Alastor's tail, sinking them into that thick softness. He asked, sweetly, "What was that?"
"Nnng!" Alastor's fingers flexed, digging holes into the cushion under them that already showed signs of abuse from earlier events, god, what Lucifer wouldn't give to see his face right now. Almost as good was the way his legs kicked out gracelessly when Lucifer did it again, narrowly missing knocking over a carton of Lo Mein. Alastor fell back against him, either reflexively or in a desperate attempt to make him stop. Either way, it failed, Lucifer deliberately rubbed his thumb right at the base of his tail and static clipped through the room like morse code.
Lucifer shifted enough to murmur against the softness of Alastor's cheek, "If you need me to stop, say so."
"I can…take…whatever you give," Alastor gritted out, even as he choked on a cry when Lucifer gave that silky puff a squeeze, crumpling ribbon and fur in his grip.
Yeah, Lucifer wasn't so sure about that, but it would do for now. For as tall as Alastor was, his weight was no barrier to angelic strength and it was entirely too easy to lift him despite his startled protests, pushing him down to the floor, sprawled face down over the table. Gorgeous on his knees, his ass high in the air, presenting that pretty tail and the view might not have lasted long if Lucifer didn't snap his fingers again. The stack of paper napkins swirled into the air, weaving themselves into an impromptu rope that wound itself around Alastor's wrists. Not really binding him, only the illusion of it, symbolic bondage and he could have torn himself free in seconds.
Could have and didn't, he didn't, only sighed out, long-sufferingly, "You're ridiculous."
"You're gorgeous," Lucifer said, hoarsely, and, holy shit, the way Alastor's tail shot up, bright crimson still tied with the crumpled bow, oh, hell yes, such a narcissist.
"Gorgeous," Lucifer repeated. He pushed Alastor's legs further apart and fell to his own knees between them, palming the scant curves of his ass through the thin silk of his pajamas, "Gorgeous, so gorgeous like this."
"Then do something about it!" Alastor snarled and yeah, Lucifer could do that. He hooked two fingers into the waistband of his pants and pulled, dragging them down until they fell to puddle at Alastor's knees. He wore nothing underneath, nothing but bare skin and invitation and Lucifer didn't hesitate to take it. He cupped Alastor's ass in both hands, parted the cheeks to expose the tight pucker of his hole and leaned in to press the tip of his tongue against it.
"Oh!" Garbled static clouded the air, "What are you…don't…" Don't collapsed into whining feedback and hey, could be don't stop, Lucifer wasn't going to guess.
He only pushed his tongue in deeper, breaching that furled hole and forcing his tongue in, his own groans muffled into what curves of flesh there were. So tight and Lucifer rubbed his tongue there, licking into him, generously wetting that little hole while Alastor squirmed and whined under him. When he finally pulled back and wiped his mouth on his sleeve, Lucifer was satisfied to see the shine of saliva left behind on that pink pucker, all but begging him to take more. More, yeah, that sounded like an excellent idea.
Lucifer fumbled open his own pants, shuffling forward to press the head of his cock against that damp hole, already pushing in and Alastor let out a squeal, his own voice and static both. It almost stopped him, concern fighting through the haze of his arousal but there were no words of protest, only the hitch of Alastor's hips towards him and fuck, fuck, yes. Lucifer pushed in deep, strangling out an embarrassing sound of his own, eyes shut tight and tasting his own sweat dampening his lips at the vice grip of Alastor's ass around his cock.
Waiting was an impossibility, Lucifer was already drawing out and shoving back into that tight heat, driving into Alastor relentlessly and listening to every gorgeous sound he made. The volume only increased when Lucifer managed to drag a hand up to his tail, clutching that silky fur, the ribbon tangling around his fingers and radio static screaming around him as he thrust again and again, fucking into him, lost in the rhythm of it.
The table legs slid on the rug, cartons falling and scattering rice and noodles across the floor and Lucifer did not care. There was nothing but the tight heat surrounding his cock and Alastor beneath him whimpering and writhing in a beautifully desperate display, his hips rocking up towards Lucifer's, and the loud slap of their flesh meeting as Lucifer slammed into him.
It was all too much far too soon. Lucifer's eyes closed without his permission, orgasm threatening, hot and thick low in his belly and all he could do was ride it out, biting down on the cry that caught in his throat, escaping as a hiss through his teeth, glottal and thick. He pulled out right as the force of it dragged him to ecstasy, coming across Alastor's ass and tail, pulses of come landing on silky fur and smearing into the mangled bow.
Lucifer sagged back, bracing his elbows on the sofa and admired his handiwork with blurry satisfaction. So fucking pretty like this, little quivers running through Alastor, who stayed sprawled across the table, a perfectly beautiful ruin. Pajamas hanging half off him, alternately puddled at his knees and pushed up to his shoulders, tail and back spattered with gold-tinged come. His cheek was pressed to the tabletop, ears drooping, his hands dangling limply off the edge and wrists still wrapped in the torn remnants of his napkin bonds, huh, when did that happen—
Oh, um, there was probably some aftercare that should be happening here instead of Lucifer just appreciating the view, and manners dictated that the one who fucked the other across a table amongst the Chinese food be the caretaker.
"You okay?" Lucifer asked, almost guiltily. He leaned forward and set his hand on the small of Alastor's back in what he hoped was a grounding way and would not lead to 'don't fucking touch me'.
Alastor started to say something, his voice clicking and soundless, cleared his throat and tried again.
"I," Alastor said, raspy low, "believe I need to purchase a spare set of pajamas."
A sad trombone noise followed and Lucifer laughed, relieved. He flicked the remnants of the bow where it hung from the muss of his tail, lank and dripping, "Probably could use some new accessories, too."
Alastor only hummed a confirmation and didn't protest when Lucifer gently pulled him to sit up, dragging him back into his lap again. This time there were no teasing wriggles, only exhausted capitulation and Lucifer held him close, rubbing his back soothingly. He'd clean them and the room up soon enough. For now, they could sit here and if this was what a private dinner with Alastor was going to be like, Lucifer couldn't wait until they tried kebabs.
-finis-