Archive of Our Own

Michael had put off speaking to Satan directly for as long as possible, opting to send correspondence through the dukes. All except for Baal. He hated to admit how badly the duke got underneath his skin, but if they were to see each other there was no telling what kind of fight would break out between them.

He was forced, eventually, to speak to Satan as the dukes grew busy or simply moved away. During their talks they managed, just barely at times, to not tear each other apart. It made relaying everything to God a bit easier, which he was minutely thankful for. Anger made other feelings much easier to hide, though he knew his Father could feel them all simmering beneath the skin He had created.

Then God became busy with the progress on Earth. Earth and Hell were intricately tied together, which seemed to be the most pressing matter these days. Really, if it had nothing to do with Earth, it was of little concern.

Michael now reported to Uriel, who then reported to God. If it wasn’t noteworthy enough to qualify as urgent, he no longer needed to bother the elder angel or their creator. This ended with the inevitable. Michael now took much longer trips to Hell. He stayed in a small building that was situated close to where Satan had his own home constructed. It was comfortable enough, that was the most he could say for his “home” in Hell. 

The devil often tried his patience during these stays, as if God had just sent Michael to him to be a play thing and not for work.

In all fairness, Lucifer was mostly preoccupied during Michael’s earlier visits to Hell. He was often more content to be with Baal than to bother Michael. When he tried to find relief in this, nothing but a sick feeling of jealousy would boil beneath his skin. It was the kind of jealousy that caused him to start having thoughts he should stay well away from.

Whenever Lucifer did turn his attention towards him, he kept that pain of torture at the forefront of his mind, for if he strayed he knew he would not be able to resist temptation in this unholy place. Lucifer’s light touches felt as if they were flaying the skin from his bones, and yet he resisted. 

Still slight in frame, Satan could never overpower Michael in strength, so that was of no concern. There was no lack of venom or hostility between them as many years passed. God never called upon him to be punished or showed signs of knowing about these thoughts that passed through Michael’s mind. Maybe He knew it was simply the nature of the place Michael had been forced to stay and not a problem with the Archangel himself.

This part of Hell where Satan resided, Michael felt, was much like Earth in ways. It was different from the rest of Hell entirely, likely because of Lucifer’s personal preference. There were gardens before him, some small animals lived in them, fruit grew from the trees. Lucifer must have had Rosier grow them. As for the animals, Michael wasn’t sure who was responsible for the presence of the few Earthly creatures.

Michael tried not to let this knowledge of Lucifer’s preference sway him. Lucifer, with golden hair and bronzed skin, was not the happiest when laid on the finest of silks, but instead on the soft greenery in his garden with its patches of small and simple flowers, the gentle buzz of bees around him. Lucifer was at peace when performing the simple task of picking fruit, just as he had as a young Angel in Heaven. This is not Michael’s Lucifer, and he never will be again. And yet—

Just like the time he spent on God’s favored planet, he knew he could not stop his slow descent into lust and sin. His fear was the only thing that held him back and as so many hundreds of thousands of years passed and the memory of the pain dulled, he couldn’t help but think resisting was becoming more of a hassle than punishment would be.

On one ordinary day among the usual heat and bustling noise of Hell’s construction, Lucifer told Michael something so entirely mind-shattering in the most casual of ways. As if he were reporting yet another boring development in one of the lower rings. Rings, unlike the kind you wear, but instead some kind of segregation of sins that Michael cared very little to learn the details of.

‘Your god cannot reach you here, you know. Not even your thoughts.’ It made Michael pause. ‘I’ve spent a long time providing the necessary reports for you to send back to him, haven’t I?’ It was true. It had been so long now that Earth had also shown signs of significant evolution and this whole time God had not known what Michael was going to report before he did so. If he did, why would Michael even be here?

Could he truly have given Lucifer this much freedom? Or was it a way to close off the deplorable words and actions of the demons for his own sanity?

‘This place is mine in all its entirety. Every Ring is safe from Him as is every soul secured inside Hell until the end of time.’ He finally turned to Michael, taking away the view of long blond hair covering the marks on the Devils back that Michael often longed to see… To touch.

‘Even you, a visitor, are here on my terms and not his.’ A gentle touch to Michael’s jaw that had him stubbornly tilting his head away. It made the corners of Lucifer’s lips twitch upward. 

‘Mine. If He is all knowing, why did you think He needed you down here?’ The smile that stretched across Lucifer’s lips was as dark as it was serene. Every expression is unsettling and wrong, but perfect still. Each one was as beautiful as the last time Michael had seen it and the time before that.

Michael hardly remembered moving as he claimed the Devil’s mouth. Satan’s skin was always too hot and his insults too sharp, but as their skin made contact it felt as pleasant as laying out in the sun on an otherwise cold day. Lucifer let out a sigh of content from his too-perfect lips that almost brought Michael to his knees.

King of Hell. King of Sin. That is what stood before him, what made him melt.

Michael could not deny the beauty and terror of Satan himself. It was devastating, but Michael could not call it cruel despite it being his undoing, the root of all his pain. Lucifer did it all with ease, so God-like it made Michael uneasy in his presence. 

Evidently, it had the same effect on the Devil.

A night long after that day, when Lucifer had assured him of their privacy, he gave Michael a secret. They had not kissed again since that day. Michael was reluctant to trust the word of Satan so easily. Maybe that is why what he heard was so shocking.

‘I hate that I can still feel him sometimes… In me.’ Lucifer spoke the admission into the dark between them on one of Michael’s visits. They sat in Lucifer’s own home. Michael started to stay here more often than in the smaller home from before, though he couldn’t remember when that began. Most likely when their few shared kisses began to grow more passionate.

It had been quiet around them, the absence of screams and demons’ laughter only made possible by the thick walls of the luxurious home. Even so, he had struggled to hear Lucifer’s confession. As if the darkness they sat in was loud enough to cover such a soft admission of truth.

It was true Michael had loved Lucifer’s lies when he was still an angel, but now he felt the opposite. Lies were as easy as breathing for the devil, but the truths were harsh. They clawed their way out of his throat violently and the long stretches of silence that followed them were unbearable at first. Michael soon realized it was vulnerability, something he hadn’t seen in so long. He had forgotten what it had looked like on Lucifer. What it felt like, tasted like… And that vulnerability quickly became his addiction.

Kissing Lucifer after one of these rare truths was different. Addicting, that was truly what it was. The moments after a truth were precious and Michael made use of every second. Lucifer’s whimpers were always a little sweeter, his expressions a bit less guarded. It was the only time since heaven that Michael could lay kisses on his skin and feel the body beneath him shiver as if it had never been touched before. Lucifer would always return to himself, a beast that only knew cruelty and had no patience for light touches. So before he could, Michael would take. While he had this, he would pull every sweet noise from Lucifer, every shudder and catch of breath.

After so many years, it became harder to ignore this desire that pulled at his gut. The way Lucifer would be lain bare underneath him, brown skin flushed as he panted quiet words of want. When the requests began to pour softly from Lucifer’s lips while he looked like this, Michael always found himself agreeing.

There was an exception. Michael still refused to fuck him, no matter how his body ached to take what he wanted— to bury himself fully inside the devil and fill him until there was no room left for thoughts of anything other than Michael above him.

He wanted to hear the noises Lucifer made devolve into nothing but a repetition of ’Michael’, as if the only prayer Satan could still speak was the reverent, almost broken utterance of his name. And when it became too much for Michael to withstand, he’d wrap a hand around that slender neck, silencing him by choking off the words completely. 

He reveled in the way Lucifer’s eyes glazed over, lost in the pleasure Michael could give him, the sight almost just as addicting as the noises that poured from his lips. More addicting was the sweet way he would say Michael’s name.

Michael and not Baal. Lucifer should never yield this way to one of his dukes. He could take pleasure from Baal, but it would never be the way it was with Michael. The needy and desperate way that he demanded the Chief Prince’s cock was something Baal would never hear. He imagined Baal was the one who begged when the two were together. Surely, Lucifer only allowed the beast to fuck him out of boredom or pity. He couldn’t think of the alternative, the times when Lucifer may not be moaning Michael’s name, as Baal took him. Or that feelings might exist between the two of them when Michael was out of the picture. Michael would burn himself alive in the flames of jealousy if he did so.

He knew that the longer he deprived Satan of what he wanted, the more desperate he would become to have Michael again. He wasn’t sure how many years had passed before seeing Lucifer again, but in the thousands of years that followed, Lucifer had only been allowed to chase his own pleasure, rocking himself onto Michael’s fingers during his brief visits, nothing more.

He had heard whispers of other demons attending to their god aside from Baal, but he had not spent great periods of time dwelling on whom the lucky few could have been. When Lucifer reacted to him so desperately every time, it left little room for doubt that anyone Lucifer lay with between his last visit and his current one was completely unimportant and expendable.

The King of Hell generously yielded to the Prince of Heaven in the end. Even with all the worlds between them, they still met here like this, as needy and starved of each other as the first time. No one could come between them now, not even God Himself.

Michael may have been tired from the long flight that took him from the heavens to Earth and then past that to Hell, but it mattered little how his wings ached when he laid eyes on Lucifer. Michael cared for nothing else when he gazed upon long blond hair spilling over the side of the overly large sofa whilst draped in fabric sheer enough that he might as well have been lain bare before him. Lucifer barely had the chance to greet him with a smile, showing teeth as white as the long strands of pearls that were strung from his gorgeous neck.

Michael had already unpinned his few simple coverings, knowing they’d only be in the way. There had been time for a few kisses, more tongue and teeth than lips, as Michael collected Lucifer in his arms and pinned the Devils’ slim hips to the table on the other side of the room. The slow push back onto the table’s surface was, of course, cushioned by a pillow he had grabbed before he had snatched Lucifer from where he had been lounging.

Michael had learned quickly that if he wanted to keep Lucifer on a hard, flat surface for any amount of time without him complaining, this was the easiest solution. The table was raised much higher than the couch, it was worth risking any teasing from Lucifer — ‘So sweet of you, to think of my comfort.’ — for this slight improvement.

Moving the sheer fabrics out of the way took seconds, especially since he had no plan for them to be removed completely. Michael enjoyed the sight of the soft opalescent clothing, if it could be called clothing, still bunched around Lucifer’s midsection. Lucifer’s nipples were always a bit of a sensitive spot, enough so that Michael usually went out of his way to pay them some attention. He wasted no time putting his mouth on one of them. The piercings that adorned them tonight were simple and plain gold to match this faux innocent theme of white and pearl, a clear mockery of what he had once worn in Heaven.

Michael bit a mark over the right bud, the metal warm from his tongue already, then shifted his gaze to see Lucifer already toying with the other. It almost made him huff, almost amused, but humor had been a rarity to him for far too long.

‘Touching yourself when I’m right here? You’ll have to try something new if you’re aiming to taunt me.’ He traced his thumb over Lucifer’s full bottom lip where he knew a smile was already forming before hooking two of his fingers between Lucifer’s teeth.

‘Occupy yourself.’ He continued on his path, knowing where Lucifer liked to have him most these days and reveled in hearing the pleased keen above him as Lucifer’s lips parted further to take Michael’s fingers in his mouth.

With the rest of the fabric easily pushed up and out of the way, Michael eagerly dragged his teeth over the smooth skin of Lucifer’s thighs. No matter how badly he wished that every scar from past bites would remain upon Lucifer’s flesh, he was equally glad to not be able to see evidence of others’ work. There was minimal comfort in the act of pretending he was the only one allowed in a place that should otherwise be considered sacred.

Michael had still never taken Lucifer’s cock between his lips. He wasn’t against the idea, but didn’t feel the need to perform the act. Lucifer never seemed overly interested in it anyway.

He pulled his fingers from Lucifer’s mouth, now bitten and spit slick, enough so that the connection of saliva between his fingers and Lucifer’s tongue did not break until Michael had drawn his hand past Lucifer’s sternum. Lucifer adjusted his position in an eager display, spreading his legs further and trailing sharp nails across Michael’s cheekbone as he watched him work.

Michael moved downwards again and grunted in slight annoyance as he roughly pulled Lucifer further down the surface of the table, causing him to let out an amused huff at Michael’s obvious display of impatience. Michael took a seat in the chair that was waiting for him, finally resting for just a moment after all his time flying that day. He wasted no more time pushing Lucifer’s legs further apart and pressing his spit-slick fingers into Lucifer's waiting hole, not pushing in just yet.

Lucifer hummed as Michael massaged over the tight muscle, always pink and pretty, as if he was untouched and pure. Michael wondered how it stayed this way no matter how many times he spread Lucifer open on his fingers or, worse — how many cocks he probably took between Michael’s visits. He almost growled into the silence between them at the thought, only Lucifer’s anticipatory breaths keeping him grounded. 

He roughly spread Lucifer apart with his hands and leaned in, tongue pushing against the ring of muscle in a repeated motion until he felt Lucifer relax enough that he could push his tongue past the rim. An involuntary stuttered gasp left Lucifer’s lips as Michael continued to eat him out. The sound was enough to make Michael groan, a smirk faintly tugging at the corners of his mouth, knowing Lucifer could feel that too.

This was Lucifer’s favorite act as of late. Michael still wouldn’t fuck him and so having the archangel’s tongue inside him, often alongside his fingers, was the closest they’d gotten. Despite their frequent arguments, they were past the pretense of constant teeth-gnashing and had settled into a routine of pleasure mixed with equally pleasing acts of violence.

He could stay here for hours with the taste of Lucifer on his tongue and the sound of his moans as sweet as the hymns he used to sing, only now they were for Michael alone and no one else. As long as he believed that, he could bear the thought of others touching Lucifer.

Lucifer was far less patient with Michael’s continued abstinence. No matter how much enjoyment he got from the act itself or the visual of Michael’s head between his thighs, he would want more. He sat up and forced Michael back with a look far heavier than any words he could say.

Michael’s mouth and chin were messy with his own spit as he allowed himself to be pulled away, but not before leaving a final bite mark along the inside of Lucifer’s thigh. Of course, that was when Lucifer decided to speak in that voice he knew Michael could not resist.

‘I am yours, yes?’ Michael nodded against the softness of Lucifer’s thigh, still sucking marks into the skin. ‘That’s right, I was made just for you.’ He smiled, and it was not kind, but it was beautiful, like most expressions that passed over Lucifer’s lovely face. When he would reflect on these words he would curse himself for being so easy to manipulate. He would also curse the devil for knowing exactly what to say.

‘I will not be satisfied this time if you leave me without a more… Significant reminder. Do you understand what I’m saying, Michael?’ It sent heat through Michael’s body that pooled low in his stomach. Even with the threat of expecting to be fucked this time, Michael doubted that Lucifer would actually refuse him this in the future, not that he’d say that out loud.

His gaze flicked from Lucifer’s face and back to his pink hole, wet and twitching after Michael’s thorough job of loosening him up with his tongue. It was easy enough to push two fingers past Lucifer’s entrance as he stood, pushing Lucifer to lay back against the table once again as he did.

Greedy as ever, the devil had whimpered his encouragement and demanded more even after he added another finger. Lucifer was moving his hips like he would go mad without the feeling of Michael fucking him open. He managed to ignore Lucifer’s cries and held him firmly in place, focused on working him open steadily. Lucifer was struggling to remain still, probably high on the thought of finally receiving Michael’s cock. Imagining the disappointment on Lucifer’s face when he denied him was almost as good as actually fucking him. Michael had to keep him roughly pinned to the table now, the fidgeting becoming too irksome.

Michael pulled his hand away after one last jab to the spot inside Lucifer that made him arch his back off the table even with the archangel holding him down. The prideful part of himself that Michael refused to fully acknowledge hummed in pleasure at the gasp that left Lucifer’s bruised lips. He kissed them again, wishing for a moment that they had paradise at their fingertips in the same way they did when they were both far younger.

Alone in Lucifer’s home he’d find himself shocked when these thoughts came all too easily. How could he feel any type of solace in a place like Hell? The devil would give him a rare gentle touch between their moments of carnal pleasure and he would fold. 

And then there was the knowledge that God could not reach Michael while he was in Satan’s home. Why did it ease the pain in him? How long could he drag all of this out so that Lucifer still wanted him to come here and be with him? How long until he could no longer deny that he was becoming a worshiper of Satan instead of God?

Lucifer hummed as he draped his arms over Michael’s shoulders and wrapped his legs around Michael’s waist. He pulled him closer so that Michael’s cock kept dragging against the rim of Lucifer’s now empty entrance, a clear invitation. Michael growled before pulling away, dragging Lucifer and the pillow back to the sofa.

Their coupling could never stray from the more familiar roughness for too long. Michael would often finish himself off by painting Lucifer’s skin with his release, not letting him have any of it where he wanted. Tonight, Lucifer still had that vulnerable look in his eyes that Michael couldn’t put up enough defenses against. Lucifer needed something from him, but he’d never ask for it twice and Michael was a damned fool for desperately wanting to give it to him, so long as Lucifer stopped looking at him like that.

Michael threw the pillow down in front of the couch and pushed Lucifer down to his knees on top of it before he seated himself on the sofa before him. He spread his legs for Lucifer to fit between and the devil did so easily, laying his head on Michael’s thigh.

‘You already know what I will not give you no matter how much you beg or try to manipulate me,’ he said. He did his best to keep his voice flat as he watched Lucifer’s face grow dark at the implication that Michael would still refuse him.

‘You have choices,’ The look melted away as Lucifer’s pupils expanded enough to nearly black out his entire iris. He’d easily figured out by this new position they were in what Michael wanted. It was another sin Michael would only indulge in when Lucifer was being as insistent as he was now. Lucifer’s delicate fingers were already wrapped around the base of Michael’s cock, but he refused to make a noise that acknowledged the tightening of his grip.

‘Tell me then, Michael,’ Satan’s smile was falsely innocent and Michael could feel anger mixing with arousal to blur the edges of his vision. ‘What choices do I have?’

‘You can continue, but your hands are going to be full,’ he pretended to hum in thought. Michael shifted his leg against Lucifer where he had pressed his body close. The implication that Lucifer would only be able to rut against Michael’s leg was heavily implied. Their skin was sticking in a way that had to be unpleasant, but Lucifer gave no sign that he was bothered in the slightest. ‘You’ve been acting like an animal in heat, maybe I should treat you like one? Beg me for it, Satan.’

Lucifer’s expression darkened, matching Michael’s own. He growled, teeth bared enough to make his displeasure with the statement known. It was obvious he wanted to argue how absurd it was to imply Michael held more power than the Devil in his own home, but he kept quiet. Lucifer had clearly already made his decision as he tugged, none too gently, on Michael’s cock, urging him to say the other option.

‘Or,’ he started slowly as he traced his fingers just under Lucifer’s sharp jaw. ‘You can use your mouth how you like, but you will not seek relief. When I finish, I will make sure my seed paints that mockery of our Father’s creation you call a face. We both know you want it.’ He smiled cruelly when the look in Lucifer’s eyes became almost wild.

Michael remembered the first time they’d stumbled upon this fact. He had found his release far quicker than anticipated when Lucifer had used his mouth on him. Satan was flushed and angry, comparing him to Baal in his inability to control himself. He had kicked Michael out immediately, back to the small living quarters in the gardens. Michael had been angry too, being compared to the ugly beast of a demon that occupied Satan’s bed when he wasn’t around.

Lucifer had held the grudge for only a few days before he had pulled Michael aside under one of the fruit trees. He could hardly remember what fruit it was, not when Lucifer had gone to his knees so quickly, tearing his tunic as he did so. He had taken Michael deeply, only pulling away once Michael was about to come. He ensured most of it had landed on his tongue, but didn’t complain about the rest that had ended up on his chin and across one of his cheeks. He had used dainty fingers to collect what he could and push it into his mouth with a satisfied hum. He’d swiftly gotten to his feet and plucked a ripe fruit from a branch before walking off again, leaving Michael dazed and panting against the trunk of the tree.

Apples. The tree had been an apple tree. —

Lucifer opened his mouth to respond, surely with words just as sharp if not more cutting than Michael’s had been. Before Lucifer could get the words out, Michael gripped his chin and roughly pulled him forward. His teeth sank deep into a bite mark he had left on Lucifer’s neck earlier, whatever words he was about to spit turned into a cry.

His hand tightened on Michael’s dick as the other scratched long marks over his thigh with claw-like nails. Michael hissed as he pulled back, but kept a hold on Lucifer’s chin. He brought him into a forceful kiss that coated his lips in the red of his own blood, pulled back, avoiding the gnash of Satan’s teeth, and slumped back against the sofa.

Blood was another way to bring Satan to heel, his own or Michael’s; it didn’t matter. He got drunk off of the taste, the smell… Drops of blood slid smoothly down the side of Lucifer’s neck and his now red lips pulled up into a sharp smile as he leaned in again. He pressed that smile to Michael’s erection, leaving a mess of blood wherever he touched.

There was a fleeting thought of concern at the sight of Lucifer’s sharp teeth, but it was cut off when he sealed his lips over the head of Michael’s cock.

Lucifer’s tongue pressed hard into the slit, causing Michael to hiss and grip the edge of the sofa. Lucifer moved his hand, pressing his palm flat against Michael’s upper thighs so he could drag his tongue up the full length of his cock, unintentionally cleaning the blood away in the process.

At this rate, it was going to take all of his strength to last long enough that Lucifer would be satisfied. When Lucifer sank back down, Michael almost thought he’d lose control from just the sight of angelic lips wrapped around him. He raised a hand to bury itself in Lucifer’s hair and grabbed a fist full of blond curls. He took hold of his cock, forcing Lucifer to move this hand out of the way to join his other one on Michael’s thighs. His nails dug into the flesh again, almost like a warning as his eyes narrowed.

Lucifer turned his head stubbornly to the side, clearly wanting back his control. Michael brought his erection to Lucifer’s flushed cheek, smearing blood and spit against the bronzed skin before he guided Lucifer to face him again. Michael tapped his cock to Lucifer’s plush lips, working a thumb past first to force his mouth back open. Lucifer exhaled sharply through his nose, annoyed, but opened his mouth, sticking his tongue out slightly. Michael took the opportunity to press Lucifer’s tongue against the underside of his cock. Base to tip, he guided Lucifer to lick, then suck, and repeat even while he glared up at Michael. He caught sight of Satan’s cock, angry and leaking against his leg still, and knew the glare was mostly performative.

He smiled back at Satan, knowingly. Michael knew just how hard Lucifer could fight him and this was practically submission compared to that. Eventually, Michael didn’t need to guide him at all. Lucifer’s eagerness to continue was not a secret between them, and it was a waste of time to pretend otherwise. Spit and precum mixed to connect lines between his cock and Lucifer’s lips and chin and all Michael could think was that he looked perfect.

It was a thought that used to surprise him more. For all the time he had spent mocking Lucifer’s appearance, he still looked at him and could think of no creature in creation that was nearly as beautiful. It was Lucifer’s body, his face, his hair, and even his mind. As if Lucifer could read his mind, the pace slowed again. He watched as one corner of Lucifer’s lips quirked up. Michael barely thought a second more about it as he buried his cock between Lucifer’s lips, gagging him before he could say a word.

Michael’s errant thoughts about the devil were far easier to ignore when he was fucking his face, it turned out. Lucifer choked on his cock and the sound of it was almost as beautiful as the sight of his eyes welling up and overflowing with tears. He’d given up on the shame of enjoying this so much a while ago.

Lucifer looked a mess. His face was wet with his tears, saliva dripping from his chin and the blood from before was now smeared pink, the same shade as the flush that had risen on his cheeks. Too quickly, he grew accustomed to Michael’s length hitting the back of his throat. Michael didn’t know why it made him angry, but it did. Unspeakably so. Maybe the thought of Lucifer being well practiced in this was what brought it on.

‘Whore,’ he spat the word while continuing to fuck the Devil’s mouth. All he got was a pleased moan in response as Lucifer gazed up at him, tears dry. 

How much longer could he pretend this was enough? He wanted, no, he needed to do more. He also needed to keep Lucifer waiting and wanting. For how much longer would Lucifer tolerate the teasing? Not even the way he fucked the Devil’s throat was enough anymore. He always wanted more. It was pleasurable, immeasurably so. For both of them, it seemed by how hard Lucifer still was. Yet, it still wouldn’t be enough.

The threat Lucifer made earlier weighed on his mind. If he didn’t do more this time, would Lucifer even let him come back? He could easily fall back into bed with Baal and be done with Michael. The thought churned a vile feeling in the pit of his stomach, like his insides had come alive and were trying to get out. It made his heart pick up speed like he’d just fought a battle and hadn’t shaken off the adrenaline yet. He felt like he wanted to fight something right now to try and get rid of it.

Lucifer, ever observant and sharp, was watching him with his lips still wrapped around the head of Michael’s cock. He didn’t move to take him again, probably sensing that Michael had completely disassociated from the situation for just those few seconds. Lucifer’s eyes burned into him, and Michael needed him to stop looking. Lucifer had no room to judge, but he was looking at Michael and if he was judging him for every mistake he’d ever made. 

‘Like God.’

Lucifer was sitting back on his heels. Michael couldn’t remember when his lips had left him, but it was long enough ago to cause an unreadable expression to settle on Lucifer’s face. Lucifer’s hands never left him. His nails are pressed dangerously into the meat of his thighs, but he hasn’t broken any more skin. Michael’s own hands are still buried in Lucifer’s hair, but his grasp is weak. The feeling of the strands between his fingers is grounding. He runs his fingers through it without looking at Lucifer’s eyes. It’s easier to look at his mouth, sinful as it is. 

‘Why did you stop?’ Michael watched one corner of Lucifer’s lips pull slowly upwards into an amused smile, though he didn’t know what about the question was so amusing. It’s not unlike Lucifer to find humor in something as simple as his discomfort, though.

Lucifer moved back to his precious spot, draped across Michael’s thighs and watched him with a look that anyone who didn’t know better might find sweet. ‘Just waiting for you to pay attention. You used to not be able to think of much else when I had my mouth on you,’ his voice was saccharine, artificial. His smile morphs into a pout, his face taking on a faux innocent look. It doesn’t suit him. ‘Should I be offended?’

‘Your mouth is not so special that it would consume my every thought,’ he frowns and brushes back a few stray hairs that have stuck to the mess on Lucifer’s face, before returning his hand to its place, buried in the long tangle of golden curls.

’So you say,’ was his simple reply, packed with mirth as well as doubt. Lucifer leans further forward, as far as Michael’s hand in his hair allows him to. ‘Should we test that?’  

Michael feigns disinterest as much as he can. Lucifer has doubled his efforts, taking Michael deep again but purposefully forcing himself to gag on Michael’s full length as it hits the back of his throat. It’s become such a mess of precum and saliva that when Lucifer pulls off to breathe, the hand that continues to pump his cock feels almost as good as the heat of Lucifer’s mouth.

Satan takes him deep enough that his nose is buried in the hair at the base again. Instead of the wet choked noises, he changes tactics, moaning lewdly and causing vibrations that almost cause Michael to lose his concentration. Everything is tight, Lucifer and his own body. He’s tensed and Michael knows he’s losing Lucifer’s game, but he isn’t sure how to turn things back in his favor. He doesn’t want to stop Lucifer, but the thought of coming hard down Satan’s throat is not as pleasing a thought as it should be.

Michael had this nagging fear in the back of his mind. If he lets himself go and spills into Lucifer as his mind goes blank for even just a few seconds, he fears that when he regains his senses it will be to find that Lucifer has taken full advantage of Michael’s state. Instead of swallowing, Lucifer would use his cum as a way to slick Michael’s cock to make it easier to fuck himself onto it. And Michael would be powerless. He knows this because he’s dreamed it, woken in the nights panting and sweating with a pool of his own release painting his stomach.

And once it is done, he will not stop it. He wants it far too badly.

With the hand that was keeping a tight grip on Lucifer’s wheat blonde hair, Michael uses it to yank him back. He’s pulled from Lucifer’s mouth with an audible popping sound. His lips were even more swollen than before, still parted in slight surprise after being pulled away so suddenly. Lucifer blinked up at him with frustratingly beautiful doe eyes, a look that didn’t fit him anymore.

The look transformed into something far more befitting of Satan’s cruel nature as he realized Michael had pulled his off to keep himself from coming. Michael’s frown remained fixed in place.

Damn Lucifer. His soft skin, his beautiful mouth and the perfect wet heat that he couldn’t erase from his mind no matter how many years passed. He cursed his own mind, his dreams where he woke with his cock just beginning to soften or where it remained so painfully hard the simple brush of his sheets had him coming violently, shouting and cursing Satan’s name. 

He wanted and wanted, so he took and he took. Not too much, just enough to feed his own demon that lay dormant inside him so long as it was satiated. Every nerve in his body continues to cry for 

The idea came to him quite suddenly. What if it was purely his mind creating something too perfect, something that could never be replicated in the waking world? What if he tested the tight heat of Lucifer to find it was no better than taking his mouth?

He would have no reason to dream of it anymore if that were true.

‘Up,’ Michael said the word through his teeth. He uses his hand in Lucifer’s hair to drag the devil up with him more quickly. Lucifer is half-stood, still clearly perplexed and pissed off and, with the way Michael is holding him, he looks more like an angry feral cat than the devil himself. Michael pushes him back onto the sofa roughly.

‘You wanted me to fuck you, whore?’ Michael was still growling the words at him as he pushed at Lucifer’s legs to fold him in half again. The flush that washes over Lucifer looks so perfect that Michael wants to tear into his flesh to remove it from beneath the devil’s skin.

The lust burning in Lucifer’s eyes is more apparent now than any time he’d seen it before. He keeps tugging Michael closer and trying to move them so that he can feel the slide of Michael’s cock and Michael makes a frustrated sound deep in his throat. He throws both of Lucifer’s legs over his shoulders to free his hands so he can grab Lucifer’s wrists in one and hold his body in place with the other.

‘Stay still or this stops here,’ Michael's breath is becoming heavier now. Lucifer is whining, pupils blown and mouth partially open as his breaths become unsteady. A smile curves on his lips, his pointed canines on display. If Michael could paint any moment from memory to depict his greatest sin, it would be this.

‘Stop? You’ve barely started,’ he taunts. Lucifer’s gold eyes flashed with something akin to mischief, dulled slightly by the lust still clouding them. Michael just wanted him to be quiet, so he surges forward. His lips meet Lucifer’s, bruising and all-consuming. He tastes more blood, but it hardly matters when they’ve already done so much damage to each other. Lucifer’s breath catches at the same time as Michael’s own, the feeling of Michael pressing in, almost allowing himself to push inside. Almost.

‘Michael,’ Lucifer says through his teeth, still so close, Michael can almost taste his own name in the nearly non-existent space between them. Lucifer is straining against him, trying to pull him closer. Rather, he tries to pull him deeper to link them together in a way that Michael had avoided until now.

’What did I say?’ Michael has to summon all of his self-control to keep himself still, all movement completely halts and Lucifer yields. Michael couldn’t understand the smile on the devil’s face, all sharp teeth. The blood that had been spilled earlier was now drying a dark crimson.

’Oh, you get off on this don’t you?’ The dominance, he means. And Lucifer is right. Having that fragment of control over someone who usually holds it all? He may never stand against God, but Satan, this false god, is one he can chip away at piece by piece.

‘No,’ he answers. ‘But this pleasure you chase? Like moths to a flame, you are all drawn to it. You make it so easy to get you on your back.’ Michael growls and tightens his hold on Lucifer, earning a slight wince he wouldn’t have caught if their faces weren’t so close together. ‘How many have gotten a leg up, just because they managed to get a leg over you?’ 

Satan barks a laugh, ‘Cutting words from such a handsome mouth. And such clever wordplay. Have I been rubbing off on you, angel?’ Satan’s grin stays sharp and entirely too pleased. The double meaning is glaringly obvious and completely on purpose. He had almost forgotten how dangerous the devil’s tongue really was. As drunk on lust as he seemed, their current position was doing nothing to slow him down.

‘You’re far more attractive when you’re quiet,’ Michael tells him.

‘Nothing I haven’t heard before, though most prefer to hear exactly when my voice breaks during a hard fuck,’ he muses with a serene smile on his lips.

‘You shameless—’

‘Why are we still talking with your cock pressing into me?’ Lucifer snaps whatever concentration Michael had. His thoughts immediately strayed from the words they spat at each other, focus returning to his cock. He’s still achingly hard. It’s not surprising, given what manner of being lays beneath him.

‘We both know this is a lot of talk all for something that won’t last very long. I remember the gardens,’ Lucifer is laying open-mouthed kisses down the line of Michael’s throat. It’s the most he can reach with Michael still holding him down.

‘Shameless,’ he says again, low. He feels Lucifer shudder, and then it all happens at once, alarmingly fast, harder to control than he could have imagined. His cock is pushing into the hot, tight heat of Lucifer as the devil cries out beneath him. To stop once the head is fully inside feels like as much of a sin as the act itself. He thinks for a moment that it doesn’t make a difference if he stops there or pushes the rest of the way inside.

‘Move,’ Lucifer gasps. He tries to roll his hips only to be met with the heavy weight of Michael’s hand holding him down. It’s a reminder that it does make a difference. He needs to hold his ground. He can’t give Lucifer that pleasure, nor can he lose himself.

‘You don’t need more than this.’

‘If you can’t fuck me, Baal can take over. He always performs better after you’ve made him jealous,’ Lucifer is a bit breathless, but still manages to fill his voice with ire as he spits the threat in Michael’s face. He feels anger rush up quickly, his vision blurring with its intensity.

‘Quiet,’ the hand that was pinning Lucifer’s wrists flies to the devil’s slender neck, choking off his next breath. ‘Do not mention him again.’ Lucifer just smiles like he knows something Michael doesn’t.

With Lucifer’s newly freed hands, he tries to pull Michael’s hips forward and only manages the slightest movement before he realizes he still doesn’t have enough strength to budge the archangel. Michael feels smug for a moment before Lucifer’s other hand disappears out of sight as well. He feels it wrap around the length of his cock that isn’t currently inside of Lucifer. The hand that was at his hip was on Michael’s face now, nails sharp, digging into his skin. Michael has to grit his teeth at the pleasure that shoots through him when Lucifer starts to stroke him. It’s unfair how good it all feels. Even with only the tip of his cock inside the devil, feeling him tighten around him is still too much. Lucifer finally looks pleased — more than pleased — he looks like he’s high on pleasure. He wants to make Lucifer stop about as badly as he wants to spill inside of him. Michael loosens his hold on the devil’s throat just enough for Lucifer to breathe again. Enough to let him speak.

‘I hate you,’ he chokes out. ‘I hate every piece of you, but—’ He continues to fist Michael’s shaft, working him up to a peak Michael knows he desperately needs to pull back from. He tries to stifle a groan through clenched teeth at Lucifer’s next words — ‘You almost make up for it with this.’

Lucifer hasn’t even had a chance to take all of him, but he looks and sounds this debauched regardless. Michael can’t stop the feeling, tight in the pit of his stomach, a rush of pleasure, down, that makes him gasp against Lucifer’s skin. He sinks his teeth in, barely registering whatever Lucifer may be saying as he violently jerks his hips away from the devil. He comes violently over where he had just been inside Lucifer less than a second ago.

When he looks up, the quiet rage on Lucifer’s face is more terrifying than any roaring outburst Michael had witnessed from him before. The room was quiet aside from their heavy breathing. Lucifer’s expression may look smooth and in control, but the anger boiling underneath is clear in his eyes.

‘Leave,’ he says, quiet and dangerous. ‘You’ve proved yourself incapable of doing something as simple as fucking. Leave so I can call Baal to finish this.’ He starts to push Michael to get him to move, finding him still too solid to budge. ‘You must like it,’ he snarls, ‘The thought of Baal fucking me. Otherwise, you’d stop doing this.’

Baal fucking Satan with Michael’s cum never stopped being a main feature in far too many of his fantasies that included the three of them. After the first time on Earth, it was hard to forget the thought. He’d never admit it to Lucifer — especially not to Baal. His eyes roam over the devils naked form beneath him. He realizes it then, ‘You didn’t finish.’

Lucifer usually did, even with Michael refusing him what he wanted. It clicks for him too late. Usually, Lucifer is able to rut himself against Michael with the same abandon that Michael pushes against him during the heat of their coupling. This time, Lucifer was completely held back from finding any relief, the single point of his pleasure being Michael inside of him.

‘I didn’t. What did you expect?’ His anger is contained, but the disappointment pouring from him actually makes Michael feel ashamed. ‘That loathsome face of yours wasn’t going to get me off, you know.’ 

‘You don’t need Baal,’ he insists. He can’t leave like this, with Lucifer so displeased, there would never be a reason to have him again. He couldn’t fuck Lucifer either, that was a non-starter. It makes him so furious to need this, to feel anxiety stirring his insides. ‘Let me…’

‘You could not possibly offer me anything that would change my mind right now.’

‘I can,’ he says in a rush. ‘I will. I’ll give you more in time. What you’ve been asking for. If you can just wait a bit longer…’ He trails off as he pushes Lucifer back down. He knows the devil is tired when he doesn’t even try to fight back.

‘I am not a patient creature,’ Lucifer says, simply.

‘I know,’ he answers.

‘Good.’

It shouldn’t work. Lucifer would usually kick him out for far less, but he must be desperate. When Michael’s eyes roam over his body he can see, minutely, the bone deep exhaustion hidden behind the tense muscles.

‘I want you to consume me,’ he sighs. ‘ If I let you stay. I need you to—’

‘Yes,’ Michael says. ‘You’re mine. Made for me.’ Michael kisses him roughly, laying claim to Lucifer once again. The same words from earlier now coming straight from his own mouth. It feels too soft, something about the words not being from Lucifer’s teasing lips feels wrong.

Once they part, Lucifer says, ‘I am. Like the fruits from the garden — You picked me,’ Michael nods, nose brushing against the hollow of Lucifer’s throat as he moves down. ‘So devour me.’ 

Michael’s gaze flicks upwards. Lucifer’s eyes are half shut, his lips parted delicately around his moans. Blissful, a perfect replica of how he looked in Heaven if not for his horns. What else could Michael possibly do?

He thrusts his fingers inside Lucifer, not bothering to be gentle. Lucifer’s cries are lovely, even when muffled by Michael leaning up to bite at his lips again. He only pulls out intermittently to wipe away his cum and push it inside where Lucifer had wanted it in the first place. When as much of it is inside as Michael can manage, he fucks Lucifer thoroughly on his fingers, sweet sounds spilling freely from his red, bitten lips.

Lucifer was right, the fruit he had plucked had done nothing but become riper the longer he held onto it. When Lucifer finishes, spilling onto his stomach with a whine, Michael takes his time and does as Lucifer asked. He devours him, starting at his lips and traveling down. Over his neck, his collarbones, his nipples. He pauses to clean Lucifer’s stomach. He finds that he doesn’t mind doing it. He presses the lightest of open-mouthed kisses over Lucifer’s softening length, tongue soothing the burning skin. He ends at Lucifer’s entrance, where Michael’s spend is now dripping slowly. It’s easy to push it back inside with his tongue, tasting himself and Lucifer at once.

He leaves Lucifer drunk on his second orgasm minutes later, using his fingers to rub maddeningly at that spot inside Lucifer that turns his moans soundless. 

It’s all rather anti-climactic after that. Lucifer is quiet, sated. Michael leaves not long after. Lucifer’s afterglow only lasts so long before he is back to his usual self and Michael is in no mood to experience the devil’s full wrath tonight. He’d save it for next time when they both have the energy to fight.

It’s not the last time they meet. Michael feels the relief deep in his bones the next time he’s in Hell.

And after many restless nights where he fails to rid himself of dreams of himself fucking Lucifer, he crumbles. He hates himself for doing it, but hates himself more for depriving himself for so long. When he finally sinks completely into Lucifer, neither of them last as long as they normally would. The insults, said sweetly into his ear, only make Michael fuck Lucifer harder. He’s like putty in the devil’s warm hands, so easy to maneuver wherever Lucifer wants him.

He doesn’t care whenever Lucifer brings up Baal anymore. How could he care when he’s there, rocking his hips against Lucifer’s, buried in the tight heat of him? Even if Baal has this too, he knows it isn’t the same. He especially knows he has the upper hand the day he uses his wings and renders Lucifer completely breathless and silent in his pleasure.

His wings tear through his back, the sensation familiar and easy. He takes pleasure in the knowledge that Satan had not felt this sensation since that final day, when all of Heaven warred within itself. The joy of flying may have been lost to Michael long ago, but his wings were now a novelty for the creature below him.

Did the devil even remember what it felt like to fly? Surely not, even if Baal could carry him with the wings he kept borrowing from other beasts.

Sometimes Michael could not outrun the thoughts he had where he still thought himself better than Baal. He knew the high of being loved so obsessively by the most beautiful angel in heaven. Michael would always be the devil’s first and last love, even if it was gone now, he’d had it once.

He was the one Lucifer had created sin for in the first place.

He uses the strength of his wings to fuck Lucifer harder. Michael can see the war happening in his expression. Lucifer doesn’t know whether to spit out insults or to take his pleasure without complaint, so he does both in tandem. The insults fuel Michael further and Lucifer’s moans of obvious approval keep him going after the initial need to fuck him hard enough to shut him up has worn off.

It’s scary sometimes. To be fucking the devil while still serving God. He doesn’t know how he hasn’t been found out or how he has escaped another torture sentence.

It all becomes abundantly clear, though, the day that God asks him to bring Lucifer home.

He will only say yes to you.

He won’t. Michael knows this is what will destroy them. 

But Lucifer is not God. He cannot sit at the devil’s feet and pretend he is free to love him again. Nor can he tell God he wishes to be one of Lucifer’s demons. It would be a lie.

So he asks. He watched Lucifer’s face shutter, like he knew it would. Watching him draw back into the terrible armored skin he had only recently started to shed for Michael. Lifetimes of trial and error to rekindle something, anything, between them were wiped away in seconds.

’I will never go back there. You can tell Him that.’ It’s the answer he expected, at least.

’There is no denying him, you should know.’

A laugh that is too choked with pain to be real ‘I would know, wouldn’t I? How little he cares about what we do or do not want.’ Lucifer looks distant as if he can’t quite focus on where he is right now, like he had gone somewhere else for just a moment. His eyes find Michael’s again, unreadable.

‘This time is different. I don’t care who He sends. Whether it’s you or one of the others or some new manner of beast He created for the express purpose of dragging me back there, I will not go.’ The look in Satan’s eyes is cold and resolute. Any warmth that had passed between them, when he had Lucifer flushed and pleased beneath him only minutes before this conversation started, was gone. Dashed against jagged rocks, in a sea of hate and anger that neither of them could find a way out of, not after everything.

‘We will see,’ Michael answers evenly. A moment of terse silence passes over them as something in Satan shifts, his mind made up.

‘If another creature from Heaven sets foot here, I won’t hesitate to see it torn apart by my own.’ The unnerving curl of the devil’s lips had returned. ‘Do you understand what I’m saying, angel?’

The reappearance of the taunting nickname would have made him feel a sort of amusement if he’d heard it earlier. Now, it was just a cruel reminder of their differences. Michael was one of those creatures from Heaven, after all.

He did understand. It didn’t stop him from feeling like his heart had fallen out of place, like the ground beneath his feet was suddenly unsteady. Lucifer remained still, terrible and beautiful. Michael wanted to scream at him. He wanted to fight with him, tear him apart with his bare hands, while Lucifer did the same to him. A fight would be better than this empty nothing.

He wanted to see their blood mix on the floor, so Lucifer could see how they were still the same creature after all. Satan may be considered a monster, but he was not the worst monster either of them knew. It was a thought he allowed himself to have for just a moment, for he would never dare to think it again.

Michael thought, almost desperately, that he didn’t want to go back to how he was in Heaven after Lucifer was gone. Only moving to take up his sword, and hurt others the same way he had hurt for so long. The silence was unbearable, but he never dared to break it. No sounds seemed worthwhile once Lucifer’s songs had disappeared from Heaven. To have gained even a fraction of it all back while he stayed here in Hell was a miracle. It was the creator of miracles, his God, that he had to thank for being given Lucifer. Even if it was only for a short time. But was it not also God who had taken Lucifer away?

No, Lucifer chose this.

Lucifer, whose expression still had not changed. Michael stayed frozen as well, as they were locked in a stalemate. Lucifer drew a breath, as Michael held his. He knew this was it.

His damnation spoke.

‘Never come back.’