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Alastor was reading in his usual seat by the fireplace, enjoying the ambient sounds of the bayou when Lucifer portaled into his room uninvited. He marked his page and set the tome aside as the king collapsed in a heap in the chair across from him with a deep sigh.
“If that’s the energy you’re bringing into my evening, you should go haunt your own rooms.”
Lucifer lazily rolled his head across his shoulders to give Alastor an unamused glare. “I know I’m usually up for a battle of wits, but not right now, Al. It was a rough day.”
He sunk into the cushions, closing his eyes. Alastor felt a twinge of guilt as he noticed the dark circles like burnished copper marring his ivory skin. Lucifer had always looked tired, but now appeared dull, almost sickly, as if his life was being drained away with each obligation.
Lucifer had stepped back into his role as King with gusto after the battle, taking on every duty he had left by the wayside plus many of those of the former Queen. He had been wearing himself thin, making up for every lost moment with Charlie, and readying her to take on the political landscape of Heaven.
That wasn’t even to mention this entanglement they had stumbled into together. Sharp barbs had turned to sharper teeth, biting and nipping at each other's skin, tongues entwining, and then a heated battle for dominance between the sheets. That had been months ago, and still they danced in each other’s periphery, periodically coming back together in a clash of heat and untamed desire when the tension grew too high.
Alastor’s ears twitched as he fought the way they wanted to pin back on his head. He didn’t quite know what to do with the niggling ache that had formed in his chest. His blackened heart had been making itself a nuisance. What he should have wanted was to return to his book, spend the evening in quiet solitude, and yet…
Lucifer banished his hat in a puff of gold and red sparks. His hair fell, greasy and limp in his face.
“Well, this just won’t do.” Alastor popped to his feet, crossing the room to the ensuite.
From his place in front of the fire Lucifer could hear the sound of running water. He didn’t have the energy to think too hard about what Alastor might be getting up to, but if he was serious about not wanting Lucifer’s company tonight, then who was he to intrude on his space?
It only stung a little.
He heaved himself to his feet, making his way to the door. Even conjuring a portal sounded exhausting right now. He had just put his hand on the door knob when shadows swirled around his feet. Dark tendrils wrapped him up in their cool embrace, and he yelped as they swept him off his hooves, dragging him to the bathroom.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Alastor chided, and Lucifer had to tilt his head all the way back to meet his teasing stare. Even from this upside down perspective he could see the way Alastor’s mouth was set in a determined grin.
“Uh, you said-”
“I know what I said,” Alastor interjected. “And if I thought you’d take it so seriously I would have…”
Alastor paused. He what? Would have softened his words? Would have dulled the sharp edge of his tongue? He didn’t do that for anyone, save perhaps his closest friends – but looking down at the man who he had allowed into his bed, seeming as if he were about to collapse on the spot, well… Perhaps he could afford a little tenderness.
“I wouldn’t have chased you away,” He completed his thought.
His shadows put Lucifer down on the tile floor, and Alastor shut off the water.
“That’s-” Lucifer dare not say ‘kind’ lest he get shoved face first into the tub, and get a lesson on just how kind the demon could be. “Magnanimous of you…”
He looked down at the large, clawfoot tub. The water, tinged pink with salts, steamed with aromatic herbs. There was even a lone rubber duck bobbing on the surface, the one Alastor had inexplicably stolen from his collection the first time he had entered Lucifer’s room. The very concept that anyone wanted to take care of him had him choking back tears. It had been so long, and he was devastatingly tired.
“Don’t get misty eyed on me now, sire,” Alastor said as he began deftly unbuttoning Lucifer’s waistcoat with practiced ease. “It seems that if you won’t keep up with your own wellbeing, then I must pick up the slack.”
Lucifer braced himself for an added jab in the realm of ‘like I picked up the slack with your daughter in your absence’ or ’like you must be picked up to reach a high shelf’, but it never came. He let himself be stripped bare, and Alastor eased him into the tub.
“What’s gotten into you?” Lucifer asked, risking being kicked out on his ass, but he was too curious. Looking up he saw Alastor sloughing off his own clothes, which gave him a good idea of the demon’s plans. “Ah, I see. Look, I’m kinda tired. I appreciate the effort you’re putting in, but I don’t know if I can get it up right now. Maybe in a bit when-”
“Oh, please,” Alastor waved him off with an annoyed tsk of his tongue. “Not everything has to be about sex. I just didn’t want to get my clothes wet when I washed your hair. Now scoot.”
“Oh… I guess- I just thought-” Alastor pushed him forward, slipping in behind him. He caged him in with long, lanky legs, and pulled him back to rest his head against a fluffy, scarred chest.
“Yes, I know what you thought.” Alastor squeezed the apple scented shampoo that had taken up residence in his bathroom into his hand. He passingly wondered when so many of Lucifer’s belongings made their way into his room. Oh well. It was convenient in moments like this.
He lathered it into Lucifer’s hair, gently grazing his scalp with his claws. The scent of apples mixed pleasantly with the rosehips and lavender he had added to the water, but he didn’t feel the angel relax into the soothing motions the way he expected him to.
“I can feel you thinking too hard, sire. Tell me what’s wrong.”
Lucifer tensed, clearly caught.
“Uh, a couple things I guess.” He plucked the duck out of the suds as it drifted past, worrying it in his hands as he spoke. “We’ve never really done this before. Don’t get me wrong! It’s nice. Just… unexpected.”
Alastor’s first instinct was to argue, to bite with words, but all that would earn him was Lucifer’s ire, and looking at the way the king held himself on a knife's edge between overproductivity and falling apart, Alastor didn’t think he could handle it right now.
And for some reason he didn’t really want to. For a moment, Alastor wondered exactly what the hell he was doing. Lucifer was right. They didn’t do this, whatever this was – the soft intimacy, the reverent touches, giving without asking anything in return. So then why did it feel so right?
“I do believe you’ve put me in a box, Your Majesty! Surely you don’t think all our interactions must include wrath or lust?” He started gently rinsing out the suds from Lucifer’s hair. Already it looked more vibrant, a river of gold revealing itself under Alastor’s ministrations.
“I guess it doesn’t…” Lucifer replied quietly, and at last Alastor felt him unwind, muscles going lax against his skin. “But please don’t bring up Satan or Ozzie right now. They were both insufferable at the meeting today.”
“Consider it struck from the list of conversational topics for the night. In fact, if it makes you comfortable, you could do away with the temptation all together, and shift yourself into a less teasable form.”
Lucifer typically walked around with both male and female anatomy, claiming that he preferred the broad range of pleasure, and Alastor had no preference. His only desire was to make the king fall apart in whatever form he chose for their trysts.
“I’ve never been one to resist temptation before. Perhaps that’s for the best,” Lucifer agreed with a sigh, and with a wave of his hand he had nothing but a smooth mound hidden beneath the cloudy water. It fascinated Alastor, and not for the first time he felt a small wave of envy.
“I can taste that, you know?” Lucifer peeked over his shoulder, a wry smile on his face. He flicked his forked tongue into the air, scenting the sin between them.
Alastor narrowed his eyes. “Put your tongue back in your mouth, little snake. My emotions are none of your business.”
“Not even if I can give you the royal treatment?” Lucifer asked, luring Alastor into inquiring what he meant. In typical Radio Demon fashion, Alastor didn’t indulge him.
“Stop talking in riddles.”
Alastor massaged conditioner into Lucifer’s scalp, tenderly pressing into the base of his head and temples until the wrinkles between his eyes disappeared, leaving him looking years younger.
Lucifer groaned with equal parts relief and exasperation. “I’m just saying that if you want to join me, you can.”
With that he waved his hand in the air, little sparks of gold and red flying from his fingertips. Alastor’s eyes locked onto them with a growing need. Perhaps this was his key out. Maybe if he wasn’t drawn dick first to Lucifer then he could be rid of him, and go back to his life the way it was before.
“Very well.”
The only sign of Lucifer’s surprise was a quick raise of his eyebrows, but he snapped his fingers without another word.
Alastor suddenly felt the growing pressure between his thighs disappear – the constant prick of interest in his core at Lucifer’s proximity swept away as he was left with nothing but the patch of red fur between his legs. He reached down to feel, and he may as well have been rubbing his arm for all the pleasurable sensation he felt.
And still, he wanted nothing more than to reward Lucifer with more pampering for his kindness.
Damn.
“Thank you…” Alastor muttered reluctantly. Lucifer merely hummed in response, covering his satisfaction in a guise of nonchalance.
They sat in companionable silence for a while longer while Alastor grazed a washcloth over the tiny scales that made up Lucifer’s skin. He watched in awe as they began to shimmer like they were faintly illuminated from within. How had he never noticed that before? He caught himself hovering closer, the urge to press a kiss to the shoulder beneath him beckoning. He grit his teeth, sweeping over the area once more to break the spell.
What in the seven rings is wrong with me?
Oblivious to Alastor’s inner turmoil, Lucifer was grateful for the quiet space to breathe. He couldn’t press Alastor any further about his motivations. Not without risking an argument, and he was loath to lose this rare moment of peace, even when it was coming from the most unlikely of places.
So he let himself enjoy it. He closed his eyes, and let Alastor wash away the tension of the day. Longer than just a day, if he were honest. It had been decades since anyone tended to him like this. Not since the love had faded from his marriage. He supposed he could have hired servants to pamper him, but that felt so hollow. Far too intimate for a stranger, he thought as the washcloth ran over the blank mound of his groin. There was no spark of pleasure, no sensitive nerves to stimulate with the touch, and yet he felt a deep yearning crawl through his skin all the same.
And he supposed this was an intimacy of a kind his haphazard relationship with Alastor had never seen. He felt his traitorous heart kick in his chest for what felt like the hundredth time since starting this affair. He mentally chided himself. He didn’t think Alastor felt anything resembling romance toward him or anyone. In fact, he was pretty sure that the sexual nature of their entanglement was an anomaly to the sinner, driven more out of a need to put Lucifer in his place than any real longing. Unless…
I do believe you’ve but me in a box, Your Majesty!
No. No, no, no that was a dangerous thought.
But still, maybe for just right now he could let himself give into the fantasy. Just until whatever madness that had possessed Alastor tonight faded away, and they got back to their usual routine of fighting and fucking.
“You mentioned there was another reason you were troubled, sire.” Alastor broke the quiet.
“Oh… That. Well…” Lucifer trailed off, and Alastor could see a light golden flush spread down his neck that had nothing to do with the heat of the water. “Don’t worry about it. It’s silly, anyway.”
“Of that I have no doubt! Silliness seems to be your M.O., my little clown.”
Lucifer knew that if he were to turn around right now he would be faced with a shit eating grin. “Shut up, asshole.”
“Hmm… Perhaps I could make an attempt to be quiet if you go ahead and tell me this ridiculous thing that’s on your mind.”
Lucifer sighed. He was really too tired and too comfortable right now to fight. “Fine, but you can’t make fun of me.”
“Now that I can’t promise.”
Even still, Alastor’s arms wrapped around his middle in a show of comfort.
“This-” Lucifer gestured to the bath and, more broadly, the act of service Alastor was treating him to. “reminds me a bit of heaven.”
Alastor couldn’t help himself. With a pleased rumble of static he teased, “Are you saying being with me is paradise?”
“Pfftt ha! You wish! No. That’s not what I mean.”
And though Lucifer couldn’t see it, Alastor’s ears flicked back in displeasure. “Then I suppose I can stop.”
He started to release Lucifer from his embrace when claws dug insistantly into the skin of his wrists, holding him in place.
“Please… keep going.”
Alastor perked back up. Now that was interesting. It seemed Lucifer was desperate for more of his care. It was a crack in the king’s guard, and he was always one to exploit a weakness. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”
It gave him the excuse to give into the temptation to curl around Lucifer tighter, sheltering his petite form in all 7 feet of Alastor’s spindly body. Only because it would get Lucifer to divulge more secrets, of course. “Do go on.”
Lucifer froze, not unable to grasp what in the Hells was happening, but unwilling to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Fuck it. I’ll deal with the consequences later.
So he embraced it – settling into the spot between Alastor’s legs where he seemed to fit perfectly and spoke of his past, something he avoided even with Charlie.
“Before I fell, my brothers, the other Archangels, and I shared a nest of sorts. Everyday we would take turns grooming each other. We all had sexless forms. It was the way we all presented before humanity.” Lucifer wrapped his arms around Alastors in a bid to get him to hold him tighter. “You see, hygiene is a point of pride for angels, ironically enough. The seven of us would sit in a pile and take care of each other, preening our wings, trimming hooves, brushing fur, whatever our physical forms needed.”
“Sounds like a sleepover for little girls.”
Lucifer nudged Alastor in the side, but there was no real irritation behind it.
“It’s not just for show. It’s an integral part of Angel culture,” Lucifer explained. “We-... they are a social lot. When an Angel has no community it shows. A lack of grooming affects their appearance and potency of their magic. I suppose-”
The end of that sentence stuck in his throat.
I suppose that’s one of the ways they thought they could weaken me when they kicked me out.
As if Alastor could sense the sorrow within, he clutched Lucifer close, letting him ride out the wave of grief that always rushed through him when he brought up his life before the fall.
“Anyway,” Lucifer continued, ignoring the small lapse in his composure. “Lilith picked up a lot of the slack before… before she…”
Alastor didn’t care to hear out the rest of that thought, so he quickly asked, “Is that why you’ve looked so rundown?”
Lucifer shrunk further into himself, becoming a ball tucked into the cradle of Alastor’s body.
“... Yes.”
The admission seemed too much. He knew he had lost his luster. He couldn’t even remember the last time he felt capable of accessing the full spectrum of his Grace, only running on willpower and fumes for what had to have been centuries.
“Well, that settles it.”
“What?” Lucifer slowly peeked over his shoulder. “What settles what? What do you-”
Lucifer made a small noise of indignation as he was scooped into the air again, only this time he was naked and dripping. All dark and self-pitying thoughts flew from his head as he was manhandled out of the bath.
“Excuse me! I’m not a cat! You can’t just pick me up whenever it pleases you!” he hissed, wriggling in Alastor’s arms.
Alastor only smirked, a strong sense of something he dare not name solidifying inside himself. His shadow raced over with a large fluffy towel which he tucked around Lucifer’s shoulders.
Alastor wasn’t one for photographs, but he wished he could take one of Lucifer now, bundled up, cheeks puffed and pouting. He burned the image into his memory to laugh at later.
“It’s come to my attention that it benefits not only you, but the entire realm if you’re in tip-top shape, so I’m volunteering my services for the good of Hell!”
“Since when do you care about ‘the good of Hell’?” Lucifer asked incredulously. He almost asked ‘since when do you care about me?’, but he didn’t need that kind of rejection right now.
“Oh hoho! Sire, Hell is my home!” Alastor’s voice lowered, shifting to a tone that Lucifer had only ever heard him use once when he spoke of his hometown of New Orleans. “I care very deeply about making sure that the things I call mine are taken care of.”
And just like that the fight was knocked out of Lucifer all at once. Alastor felt his body go slack in his arms. He preened at his victory, a pleased rumble vibrating deep in his chest. He was merely killing two birds with one stone – wrapping Lucifer more firmly around his little finger in a grab for power, and quelling the incessant hammering in his heart.
Once Lucifer was feeling more himself then he could kick the little monarch out without feeling any foolish guilt, and get back to his book and his solitude.
His shadow reappeared with a plush, low-backed chair, and sat it in front of the mirror. Alastor lowered Lucifer into it. He could see the emotions warring on the king’s face, flipping from one to another so quickly that it was unreadable.
“You’re thinking far too loudly, again,” Alastor reprimanded, poking Lucifer between the nearly invisible slits of his nose. “If you undo all my hard work with that overactive mind I will be quite cross.”
To his credit, Lucifer tried to obey. He attempted to squash the rising feelings of hope and affection threatening to turn themselves into words that would surely ruin whatever tenuous truce had come over this rivalry of theirs.
Just enjoy it, Lucifer. Enjoy it and don’t make a fool of yourself.
The towel that he had clutched in his fingers was pried away, leaving his still damp skin exposed to the cool air. It felt nice. Cold was a rare commodity in Hell, even for him. He closed his eyes, and let himself get lost in the way Alastor combed the tangles out of his hair. He had never seen Alastor treat anyone so gently. He didn’t pull or tug, not even at the stubborn knots. He only worked them out with a patience and skill that belied experience.
“You seem like you’ve done this before,” Lucifer stated. If he was going to share tidbits about his past, it only seemed fair Alastor did the same.
Surprisingly, he did so easily.
“When I was a boy I’d do this for my maman. She’d sit in front of me just like this while I brushed her hair.” The same smile from earlier made a reappearance, and Lucifer felt himself melt. “I always looked forward to the days when she’d wash it. I suppose we had our own little grooming ritual, too.”
Lucifer looked at Alastor’s reflection in the mirror curiously. The small admission felt like a gift. “You must have loved her very much.”
Their eyes met, and for just a moment Lucifer felt like he got a small glimpse into Alastor’s soul – a piece of the man trapped behind foggy glass, yearning to be known.
“With all my heart. She was a wonderful woman. I expect she’s up in heaven stuffing your brothers so full of cajun food that their wings can’t even carry them anymore, well preened or not.”
Lucifer looked down at his blackened hands, lacing his fingers together. Had he ever had someone cook for him? Someone other than palace staff? He couldn’t remember a single time. Lilith hadn’t been the type to cook for the family, and he wasn’t sure if Charlie had ever learned how. What would it be like to taste something made with love?
As if reading his thoughts Alastor quietly said, “Perhaps I could make some for you sometime. It doesn’t compare to my maman’s cooking, but it’s better than anything else you can find in Hell.”
It was then that Lucifer saw the subtle luminescence returning to his skin. His breath caught in his throat. He stuttered out a response. “I-I would like that.”
Alastor felt something click into place deep in the confines of his rotten heart as he witnessed a small, earnest smile bloom on Lucifer’s face. It was something covetous and protective, a deep satisfaction at knowing he put that smile there. He – a murderous, manipulative, cold-hearted monster – was still capable of eliciting joy purely because it made his angel happy.
When did I start thinking of him as mine?
He looked at Lucifer’s toothbrush next to his sink, the shampoo next to his tub, the pink, fluffy robe hanging on the back of his door. All the damning evidence that proved that he had let himself develop a weakness.
It was at this moment he knew he was well and truly fucked. Were there any lengths he wouldn’t go to just to see Lucifer look at him the way he was right now?
“Al?” Lucifer asked when the silence grew too long. Perhaps he could sense the crisis eating away at Alastor’s sense of self because the smile had faded to concern.
Alastor shook his head, determined to tuck the revelation away into the deepest recesses of his mind because surely Lucifer couldn’t feel the same.
“Pardon me. It seems I was lost in thought. I haven’t spoken of my maman in a long time.”
Lucifer seemed to take the excuse at face value, and for that he was grateful. Instead he focused on drying the king’s hair, heating his fingers with a muttered spell, and running them through the brilliant golden locks until they were fluffy and soft.
“There! Good as new,” Alastor said, presenting Lucifer his own reflection with a flourish.
Lucifer stood, leaning over the sink to look at himself more closely. It was almost true. He would never appear the way he did in The Beginning. His physical form was forever corrupted by his fall, but his skin had regained the luminescence that marked him for the angel he still was at his core. His hair was brighter, his wrinkles smoothed out, making him look ageless – immortal and inhuman. And it could only mean one thing.
“I can’t thank you enough,” he said just above a whisper, grazing the tips of his fingers over his cheeks.
Alastor began to worry this moment of peace and sincerity might be coming to an end. Any second now and they would be back to snapping and snarling at each other until they fell into bed, using sex as some twisted form of dominance.
He grazed his hand over the bare plane of his groin. Maybe… Just maybe, it didn’t have to end. Not yet.
“Oh, we’re not done!” He grabbed Lucifer by the shoulders and forced him back into the chair. He fell with a huff.
“You can just ask me to move, you know?” Lucifer chuckled, too placated from the impromptu spa day to be truly peeved. And perhaps he could admit to himself that he needed a little push in the right direction when it came to taking care of his own needs. In a backwards way it was nice to have someone care enough to make him relax.
Alastor proceeded as if Lucifer hadn’t said anything, pulling a lightly scented oil out of his medicine cabinet. “Horns out, if you will.”
Lucifer flushed, freezing in place. “You don’t have to do that!”
“Nonsense. I never leave a job half done,” Alastor proclaimed, putting on an air of determined cheer. “Could it be that the Sin of Pride is embarrassed about the state of his horns?”
No one had ever touched Lucifer’s horns, not even Lilith. They were one of the more drastic changes to his form after the fall, and truth be told he hated them. It hurt every time they tore through his skin, a reminder of what he had become. He didn’t pull them out except for moments where he needed to fully establish himself as a force to be reckoned with. The last time he brought himself to look at them up close their neglect had been painfully apparent.
Sensing Lucifer’s hesitation, Alastor came around the front of the chair, bending low at the waist to meet him eye to eye. “Lucifer…”
The king startled. Alastor never called him by his name, instead using his titles, and Lucifer still couldn’t understand how he managed to say ‘Your Majesty’ and make it sound like an insult. An uninvited warmth settled itself under his ribs.
“It’s not necessary. I hardly ever bring them out, anyway,” he protested, averting his eyes from Alastor’s piercing stare. He was so close, but where Alastor’s complete disregard for his personal space usually felt like a challenge, this was… different.
Alastor watched the fetching, golden blush seep from the top of Lucifer’s cheekbones all the way down his slender neck. Could adding just a hint of sweetness to his behavior really gain him so much? What would happen if he did more?
He brought his hand up to cup Lucifer’s cheek, tilting his face back to meet his. Alastor could feel quick, shallow breaths caress his lips and a racing heartbeat thrumming under his fingertips.
“If you don’t want me to, I won't, but it would be a shame.” Alastor grazed the fingers of his other hand over Lucifer’s brow, right where the horns would appear. “Your more demonic features are so alluring.”
Alastor saw all the cogs in Lucifer’s brain stumble to a grinding halt. He grinned, feeling pleased with himself for being able to produce the wide, doe-eyed, open mouthed stare on the king’s face. Was Lucifer truly so deprived of affection that even he could cause such a reaction?
Or was it possible that Lucifer suffered from the same affliction that had been tearing away at Alastor’s sanity for weeks?
Ever the gambler, he made a bet.
“We can stop here if you’re so opposed.” He began to pull away as if ending their activities for the night. As the space between them grew a hand shot out to grab Alastor by the wrist.
“Wait!”
Alastor always won his bets.
“Yes?” he crooned, trapping Lucifer right where he wanted him.
“You… You can polish my horns.”
Lucifer thought he may be losing his mind, but all he could think was that he wasn’t ready for this to be over. He craved the warm touches, the gentle care, the feeling of his own power trickling back to him. More than that he wanted more of whatever this was that had been lingering between them like a ghost – the fingers of something more tugging them closer. Something outside of the sexual appetites they had been stripped of tonight, laying bare the tentative connection underneath.
Without another word Lucifer released his horns where he normally held them restrained beneath his skin. There was a quick sting as they tore through his forehead, extending high above his brow. He was careful not to ignite the ball of hellfire between them.
He bent his head in shame. He knew what they must look like, dry and ashen, flaking in several places, tips dull and split. Not something someone would notice when being faced down by the fury of the Devil, but right now, under the scrutiny of the demon he could finally admit he adored, Lucifer could feel every imperfection.
“Stunning,” Lucifer heard Alastor mutter over the torrents of his self-loathing. His face jerked up.
“You don’t have to lie to me. I know they’re a mess,” Lucifer hissed, becoming defensive. He should have known Alastor would mock him with false compliments.
“Oh, they are!” Alastor laughed. Lucifer felt his wounded pride rear up inside, threatening to overturn all that had happened tonight.
“But that doesn’t make them any less regal,” Alastor amended, his crimson eyes full of warmth. “They make you look quite fearsome. I would like to see them more often, if you’re so inclined.”
Lucifer’s rage vanished as if it never existed, leaving him adrift.
“Oh.”
What a change it was to have someone desire him for his more demonic features, tarnished as they were. Lucifer’s eyes fell to the thick tuft of fur between Alastor’s legs.
Right. ‘Desire’ wasn’t the right word. Not with the way his skin had started to glow.
Before he could dwell on the implications of a sexless Alastor treating him like something to be treasured, he was suddenly bereft of their close contact, his skin chilling as Alastor turned back to the cabinets under his sink, bringing out a basket full of more grooming supplies.
“I’m afraid they’re in need of more than just a good oiling, though.” Alastor reached in and brought out several sheets of sandpaper of various grit and a deerskin cloth. Lucifer swallowed nervously.
“I didn’t take you for the type to be so into stuff like this. No offense, but you always look a little-” He paused, searching for a word that wouldn’t ruffle Alastor’s feathers. “feral.”
That seemed to be the right choice because Alastor’s expression grew pleased. “A carefully curated facade, Your Majesty. Appearances are everything to those of us that wish to maintain any sort of standing among Hell’s populace, and can’t back it up simply by nature of being the most powerful in the realm.”
Lucifer supposed that made sense. Alastor did seem to be a walking contradiction – his ragged coat, carefully pressed and tailored. His fearsome demonic presence wrapped in the trimmings of a gentleman.
Alastor took the coursest grit of sand paper and began wearing away at the roughest places on Lucifer’s horns. The sensation wasn’t exactly pleasant, but Lucifer admired Alastor’s look of deep concentration. That was until the dust began to drift into his eyes and nose. He sniffed. Once. Twice, and sneezed right into Alastor’s face.
“Oh, stars! I’m so sorry!” Lucifer snapped his fingers, producing a handkerchief and ineffectually attempting to wipe Alastor down. He couldn’t manage to get close enough as the demon tilted his head back in raucous laughter.
The giggles died down, and Alastor managed to speak through his mirth. “I don’t believe anyone has ever done something so vile to me and lived.”
He took the handkerchief, and swiped at his face. “Though, I suppose we’ve shared more intimate fluids than this. I should have been more careful.”
That was as close to an apology as Alastor ever got. He stood, offering his hand. “Come. We can do this somewhere more comfortable.”
Lucifer stared at the red-tipped claws as though Alastor’s hand was a foreign object. “What, no manhandling this time?”
Alastor shrugged. “If you insist.”
He scooped Lucifer into his arms, but this time there was no struggle. Lucifer’s breath caught, as long, deceptively strong arms cradled him. He laced his hands around the back of Alastor’s neck as he was bridal carried into the bedroom, and Lucifer felt a heat growing between them that had nothing to do with sex.
Alastor settled Lucifer onto the covers of his bed. His shadow handed him the basket and a towel, the latter of which he placed on his lap to mitigate the mess. He patted the scarce meat of his thighs invitingly. “Lay your head down here. Then the shavings won’t get into your eyes, again.”
Lucifer obeyed, crawling up the bed to rest his head where Alastor requested. If he was always this pliant when presented with a little kindness, Alastor thought that he really should have tried it sooner. Then again, pride was just as much his sin as it was Lucifer’s. Not to mention, the more he leaned into his urge to treat Lucifer well, the more his heart seemed to do gymnastics in his chest. He would just have to deal with that later.
He resumed smoothing down the flakey patches on Lucifer’s horns, switching to finer and finer grit until the surface was flawless. Alastor sharpened the ends until they were wicked, dangerous points. He finished them off with a layer of coconut oil, making the red keratin gleam in the low light of the room. If Lucifer’s skin was luminescent with angelic grace, then his horns glowed as if they were burning with the fires of Hell from within, twin embers rising in a natural crown above his head.
“Beautiful…” Alastor whispered, not meaning to say it outloud, but the creature laying below him seemed determined to strip him of all restraint.
Lucifer’s eyes flashed with an unearthly light as he opened them, meeting Alastor’s covetous gaze with equal hunger.
Lucifer had come to a conclusion as he lay there, Alastor sanding away the years of neglect. There could really only be one reason why the demon, stripped of his sexual desire, would put such effort into caring for Lucifer’s wellbeing. Only one reason he could feel the strength of his power returning to him. He hardly dared believe it, but he had to know.
He sat up, vanishing the towel and basket back into their places into the bathroom and taking their place in Alastor’s lap. He wrapped his arms around the demon’s neck, pulling himself in close enough to feel the ghost of his breath on his lips.
“Alastor, will you do one more thing for me?”
Alastor’s hands gripped him firmly by the hips. This is where they typically resorted to rutting against each other until the tension dissipated, leaning on sex as a crutch until anything deeper could be pushed away, lost in a haze of denial.
Not this time.
“Anything for you, Lucifer.” Alastor whispered, eyes falling half-mast.
Lucifer’s wings snapped out of his back, stretching nearly the whole length of the bed.
“Will you preen my wings?”
The significance wasn’t lost on Alastor. He had asked to see Lucifer’s wings before, only to be laughed at and denied. He had tried to drive them out in fits of passion with no success. To have Lucifer ask him to not only behold them, but preen them was a gift beyond measure.
“You’ve never let me touch them before.”
“I didn’t trust you before.”
“But you trust me now?”
A hint of a smile turned the corners of Lucifer’s mouth, and he closed the distance, pressing a chaste kiss to Alastor’s lips. Alastor returned it with reverence, taking it for the confession it was.
“Don’t make me regret it.”
Their lips crashed together again, this time with an air of finality. No more dancing around each other, no more half-truths and deceptions. All that was left to them was the certainty that whatever they were now was more than what they had been.
Alastor’s hands came up to delve into the small, downy feathers between Lucifer’s shoulder blades. He could feel the tiny pins that held healthy feathers inside, and gently released them from their sheathes. Lucifer gasped against his mouth, shivering in his lap.
“Easy, Starlight, I’ve got you,” Alastor murmured into the non-existent space between them. Lucifer seemed determined to press as much of himself against Alastor as possible with all the restraints of their posturing gone. Every inch of skin against skin seemed to burn with an unnatural warmth, as though the light Alastor had uncovered with his ministrations carried the heat of the star for which Lucifer was named.
Alastor trailed kisses down Lucifer’s neck with none of the teeth he usually employed. This was a different kind of hunger – not one of sanguine desire, but a longing for connection, a need to see and be seen. He felt their bare mounds graze against each other as Lucifer writhed in his lap, but instead of the animalistic urge to take and dominate there was only satisfaction at the closeness of their touch. Alastor didn’t want to admit what this was, didn’t want to put into words the riot happening inside his soul. It scared him to think he could be brought so low, but was too late to do anything but ride it out now.
Meanwhile, Lucifer lost himself in Alastor’s embrace. With every new feather released he felt the pool of his power trickle back to him, filling like a dry lake bed after a summer storm. A pleasant ache grew behind his ribs unchecked as he gave into his thirst.
“Lucifer…,” Alastor groaned. Grasping blindly, he couldn’t feel any more pins within easy reach. “You’ll have to turn around if you want me to finish.”
Lucifer lifted his head where it had been tucked into the crook of Alastor’s neck. He didn’t want to put any distance between himself and his demon, so instead he wrapped them up in a cocoon of feathers, creating an intimate space just large enough that Alastor could twist around to reach what he needed.
Alastor chuckled. “That works, too.”
The inside of Lucifer’s feathers was faintly illuminated by the soft light of his horns and skin, more than enough for Alastor to see clearly with his enhanced dark vision. This close he could see the rows and rows of new feathers sheathed their pins, all suspiciously in the same place on either side. His eyebrows knit together in confusion. He was no expert on the molting of angels, but this seemed unusual.
A mumbled explanation came from the thick fluff on Alastor’s chest. “I pluck them sometimes…”
“Why-” Alastor began to ask, but he realized he already knew. How many times had he torn out his hair in frustration? He was no stranger to the dark voice inside screaming at him to self-destruct when the stress became too much to bear, so instead he pressed a kiss to the top of Lucifer’s head. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”
With one arm holding Lucifer close he began to work, scratching gently at the thin keratin to release the feathers beneath, uncaring of the mess he was making of his bed.
“Whenever you feel like doing this to yourself you’ll come to me instead.”
Lucifer couldn’t help but smile. Leave it to Alastor to make demands of the king. “Telling me what to do, now?”
Alastor released him only to tilt Lucifer’s chin up to meet his eyes. “I told you. I always take care of what’s mine.”
Lucifer gratefully accepted the kiss placed on his lips. “So you did.”
They fell into comfortable silence with only the sounds of rustling feathers and steady breathing between them until Alastor was finished. Just as with the rest of him, Lucifer’s wings took on a luminosity – iridescent prisms casting rainbows when shifted just right. The space inside Lucifer’s wings was now lit with a resplendent glow bright enough for Alastor to admire his work, taking in Lucifer in his magnificence with an air of pride.
Lucifer looked at himself, shining, as all angels should, for the first time in centuries. He swallowed down the lump forming in his throat as the truth he had suspected became undeniable. “I lied to you.”
Alastor tore his eyes away from Lucifer’s wings to look at the man in his arms. “How so?”
“I told you it was a lack of grooming that causes an angel to weaken…”
Alastor tilted his head. “That appears to be true, though. Just look at the difference it’s made. You’re… radiant.”
If Lucifer didn’t already know the truth, the awestruck tone of Alastor’s voice would have confirmed it for him. “It’s not a lack of grooming. It’s a lack of love.”
The implication hit Alastor like a punch to the chest. He beheld Lucifer’s glowing visage with new eyes, realizing that it wasn’t simple hygiene that caused the change. He had infused so much care, so much love into the task that his feelings were plain for Lucifer to see. No amount of obfuscation or excuses could hide the facts from the angel before him… or even himself.
Lucifer cupped Alastor’s face in his hands, capturing his attention before he could start looking too flighty. “Hey hey, Al. It’s okay.”
Alastor’s mouth opened and closed, grasping for a way to explain, to downplay his emotions, to not be hurt, because surely Lucifer couldn’t possibly feel the same despite the too warm smile that made Alastor’s heart ache with traitorous hope.
“I love you, too.”
Alastor sat in disbelieving silence. Had he heard that right?
“Say it again.”
Lucifer’s laugh tinkled out of him like windchimes, and the light around them seemed to pulse with the sound of it. “I said I love you, too.”
“Again?” Alastor asked, leaning in, surrendering.
“I love you, Alastor.”
The light that poured from Lucifer as they kissed was nearly blinding, even through Alastor’s closed eyes, and warm enough that he felt it in the hollows of his soul. He thought perhaps if he were to look, he would be glowing, too.
