Chapter Text
They'd fucked a few times.
So, what?
Just your average hate sex. Nothing crazy.
It usually started as an argument and ended with Alastor plowing Lucifer into the mattress.
Then, they woke up, acted like it didn't happen, and continued with their lives. It'd been a pastime for about a month and a half, now? It was a nice stress reliever.
That's how the previous night had gone. A scathing verbal fight led to the unusual pair spending the night together. When Lucifer woke up, he felt a strange wave of discomfort come over him.
He blinked a few times, trying to steady himself.
He eased himself out of Alastor's grasp, moving to sit on the edge of his bed, his hands gripping his knees as he took a few breaths.
The room ceased spinning, and Lucifer hummed contentedly to himself. Feeling a chilled hand wrap around his waist, he smiled sleepily, turning back around to let Alastor pull him back into an embrace, and
Oh, duck.
His stomach flipped at the gentle movement, and he desperately plucked Alastor's hands off him, making a mad dash for the bathroom.
He barely got there in time, skidding to the floor like he was sliding into home base and yanking the seat of the toilet up.
He felt bile bubble up his throat, and he hurled into the toilet bowl, his back heaving with each retch.
He hurled up what little he had eaten the day before and gagged until he had nothing let to expel. However, he continued to dry heave, making his intestines cramp and twist.
"Hangover?" Alastor questioned, leaning against the doorframe.
"No," Lucifer choked out between gags, "I don't get drunk."
When the vomiting finally let up, he felt his body go slack, slumping against his arms atop the toilet seat.
"Fuck," he breathed, his vision spotty and his head pounding, "I don't know what that was about. I mean, I'm not immune to stomach bugs, but they usually don't hit me that hard."
With a quiet hum, Alastor turned on the faucet of the shower. "Not to mention, you haven't exactly been out and about where you could catch something like that."
At the sound of the water, Lucifer turned around.
"Can I—"
"Yes," Alastor responded, already enveloped by the steaming water, "but brush your teeth before joining me."
Lucifer nodded, flushing the toilet before standing up, his legs shaking and buckling beneath him. He leaned against the bathroom counter, taking note of the lack of color in his cheeks.
He huffed out a sigh, scrambling to grab his toothbrush and toothpaste.
He placed it in his mouth, and, when the minty substance hit his tongue, he felt like he'd been slapped. He grimaced, pushing through the discomfort and finished brushing his teeth. He was eager to get the offensive taste out of his mouth and rinsed vigorously with water.
He slid out of his pajama shirt and kicked off his pants and undergarments, leaving them in a messy pile next to Alastor's neatly folded sleepwear.
Alastor reached a hand out, which Lucifer gladly took. A little because the gesture was nice, but mostly because the room was still spinning.
He was pulled into a tight embrace beneath the warm water, feeling Alastor's lips pressing against the faint line of bite marks he'd so kindly left last night.
Lucifer stilled slightly, feeling a gentle laugh bubble from his chest.
"You're being pretty lovey dovey today, Al," he mused, letting the taller sinner catch his lips for a gentle kiss.
"So I am," Alastor responded simply, honestly seeming a little confused himself.
After a brief respite of tender holding, Alastor sighed.
"Don't get used to it."
"There he is," Lucifer grinned, reaching for his shampoo bottle.
However, before he could open it, it was gently removed from his hand.
"Let me," Alastor breathed, almost seeming bewitched.
Not one to turn down a free head massage from an expert pianist, Lucifer allowed himself to be pulled back against Alastor's chest, hearing the pop of the shampoo cap.
Taking subconscious note of Lucifer's slight wobble, Alastor gently led them down to sit against the cool floor of the shower, pulling Lucifer into his lap.
His fingers danced across Lucifer's scalp, and Lucifer hummed, closing his eyes.
"You seem to be enjoying this," he purred, rinsing the suds from Lucifer's golden hair, "I suppose I was always rather good with my fingers, hm?"
Lucifer scoffed, doing his best to ignore the golden flush that was spreading across his face.
"And to think," he returned, feeling those arms wrap around him, a chilled palm splayed out across his lower stomach, "barely two months ago, you would blow a fuse at the mere mention of an innuendo in your presence. How time flies."
In retaliation, two slender fingers prodded at his entrance, spreading his ivory folds and rubbing against the warmth.
Lucifer winced slightly, arching back against Alastor and reaching down to grab his wrist, pulling it away slightly.
At the gentle redirection, Alastor tensed, nervous eyes flicking to Lucifer's face.
"I'm just a little sore," Lucifer assured him, before an idea popped into his head.
"Hey," he said, placing pale hands on either sides of Alastor's face, "I have an idea." With a slight nudge downwards, Alastor immediately caught on, his eyes locked on one of his favorite parts of Lucifer.
Without a second of hesitation, Alastor dove forward, burying his face against Lucifer's golden flushed flesh. With soft, staticky hums, he lapped at Lucifer eagerly, pushing his tongue into that throbbing warmth.
Lucifer whined, reaching to grasp a handful of Alastor's hair, his hips rocking forward at the pleasure. Fuck, he was sensitive. Obviously, Alastor is a master of his craft, and maybe it was just because he seemed a bit more enthusiastic this morning, but Lucifer felt himself being pushed to the edge much earlier than usual.
It didn't help that Alastor was dragging his tongue along his throbbing walls like it was the only thing keeping him alive. On top of that, the base of his tongue pressed roughly into his clit with each movement, sending Lucifer reeling.
He clumsily reached for Alastor's hard cock, pleased to know that his favorite hookup partner was enjoying it just as much as he was.
As Lucifer slowly pumped the demon's dick, Alastor pressed deeper into his cunt, ravaging the sensitive organ. With a needy growl, Alastor pushed Lucifer back gently, taking his dripping dick in his hand and placing it against Lucifer's swollen clit.
With a steady hand to hold it against the throbbing nub, Alastor pressed forward, dragging it devastatingly against Lucifer.
They picked up the pace, both desperate for release. Hushed moans and curses flew from their mouths as they ground their hips together. Alastor came first in hot spurts across Lucifer's stomach, and he quickly shifted to thrust his tongue back into Lucifer, who just barely stifled a sob as his hips rocked into Alastor's mouth. Clawed fingers tightened against Lucifer's pale hips as he continued to ravage his pussy through his orgasm, his eyes clenched shut. By the time Lucifer had ridden out his high, Alastor's tongue still lapped feverishly at Lucifer's entrance, and Lucifer put a gentle hand on Alastor's head.
"Al," he breathed, his legs shaking from overstimulation.
Alastor stilled, pulling away and loosening the vice grip he had on Lucifer's hips.
"You just," he panted, his face uncharacteristically flushed, "you taste divine."
He completely pulled away begrudgingly, pressing soft kisses against Lucifer's neck. When he'd grown bored of that, he brought a sudsy washcloth to Lucifer's aching skin, cleansing him of any dirt leftover from the previous day.
At the comforting pressure, Lucifer felt his eyes shut again. He must have dozed off, because Alastor was jostling him gently.
He furrowed his eyebrows slightly, offering his hands to Lucifer to help him stand and step out of the warm water.
"You are sleeping after our escapades, aren't you?" He asked, tilting his head to the side before draping a towel around Lucifer's shoulders. "You've been incredibly exhausted this past week, and I fear I'm keeping you up."
"No, no," Lucifer chuckled, waving him off, "if anything, it helps me pass out even quicker. I think my several eternities of damnation are just catching up to me."
Alastor hummed, gentle jazz emanating from his being.
Lucifer smiled sleepily at the familiar tune. Ella Fitzgerald. In his past month or so with Alastor, he'd learned a number of things about the elusive demon. For one, when he slept, his soul radiated soft music. Usually swing, and occasionally a bit of classical. Among the artists of Alastor's time, Ella Fitzgerald was a favorite of his, and her smooth voice often rang out between deep breaths.
With a snap of Lucifer's fingers, clothes were magicked onto their bodies. Alastor was dressed in his usual red attire, and Lucifer in soft loungewear that contrasted heavily with the demon next to him.
Alastor glanced at his clothing, cocking an eyebrow as the record of his soul stuttered.
"You're wearing that?" He asked, nonchalantly resuming the music.
"Yeah, I'm going back to bed."
He proved his point by immediately collapsing against his mattress, earning a gentle chuckle from the Radio Demon.
Before he could leave however, Lucifer's soft voice stopped him.
"Alastor?"
He paused in the doorway, the music ceasing alongside his movement.
"Yes, sire?"
Lucifer rolled over slightly, blinking half lidded eyes up at Alastor.
"Can you leave the music on?"
Alastor snorted gently, crouching halfway to Lucifer's level, delicately adjusting the blanket to more adequately cover the king.
"Who, Ella?" He asked, his eyes crinkling softly, evidently amused.
At Lucifer's weak nod, Alastor sighed fondly. He brought a hand to his chest, drawing a small wisp of magic out and directing it to the radio atop Lucifer's nightstand.
Lucifer smiled exhaustedly as that velvety voice he'd grown so fond of resonated around the grand bedroom. It swirled around his heart and smelled faintly of mahogany and cinnamon, much like Alastor.
Without a parting word, Alastor had left the room.
Lucifer couldn't say the next few days were any better. Whatever was troubling his body so terribly was taking its toll. He could barely stand without feeling the need to hurl. To make matters worse, Alastor hadn't returned to dote on him, and Lucifer was struggling with the radio. If he heard that smarmy TV prattle off one more ad read, he was going to lose his mind.
It'd been two days since he'd managed to remove himself from his bed for anything other than basic hygiene and pissing, and nearly three since he'd eaten anything.
He was desperately trying to ignore the throbbing headache that vexed him, and he felt his emotions slipping away from him.
There was a knock on the door, and Lucifer flinched at the sound— loud and sharp against his pained ears.
"I hope you're decent, sire. I'm entering."
As promised— and Lucifer wouldn't expect anything less— Alastor pushed open the door, holding a tray of breakfast foods and a cup of what looked like apple juice. Well, no. In normal apple juice fashion, it looked like piss, but he assumed it was apple juice.
"Dear Charlie sent me to make sure you're alive." He paused, setting the tray down. "Are you alive?"
"Good question," Lucifer groaned, feeling his stomach twist at the smell of the food.
"Come now, your Majesty," Alastor crooned, taking a seat next to Lucifer on the bed, "it's been quite some time since you've had a proper meal. Your daughter is worried. She's been wondering where you've been."
He winced, pinching his forehead.
"Did you tell her I feel like shit?"
"I did," Alastor replied, breaking off the end of a croissant and popping into his mouth, "and she said, 'He's the kind of Hell, Al! He doesn't get sick!'"
Lucifer sighed, curling his lip at the platter of food. "Yeah, she would say that." He wasn't sure why he was so unnerved by the meal. It was all things he liked.
As if in compromise, he brought the glass of Not Piss to his lips, taking a cautious sip before being forcefully reminded just how much he fucking loved apples. He downed the glass before Alastor could blink and then set the cup back down.
He was going to comment on Alastor's amused look, but he was quickly cut off by that godawful (and that's coming from the Devil. From the Bible.) TV screaming through the radio about Raid Shadow Legends and meal subscription services.
He wasn't sure what came over him, but within seconds, tears were pouring down his face. Alastor stiffened at the intense reaction, blinking bewilderedly.
"Lucifer?" Was all he could muster before another pained sob racked from the king's throat, raspy and tired.
"I hate him!" He wailed, covering his ears and screwing his eyes shut.
With a flick of his wrist, the radio... silenced.
"Believe me," Alastor muttered, rolling his eyes, "I do, too."
"Fuck," he breathed, hands still pressed to his ears, "I hate him so much! How does anyone listen to him?!"
Alastor stared at him, something strangely similar to concern swirling in his eyes.
"Sire," he said, lightly taking one of his hands and pulling it away from his ear, "I turned it off. He's gone."
Lucifer sat there, chest heaving as tears continued to fall down his cheeks. Fuck, he felt so fragile. So weak.
Alastor paused awkwardly, eyes darting across the disheveled king of Hell. With a slight crackle of static, he waved his hand towards the radio, and it came to life with the gentle swing of smooth jazz.
That seemed to ease Lucifer, and he let out a ragged sigh. With a quiet hum, Alastor encircled him with his arms, and he felt Lucifer melt beneath his touch. Taking advantage of the Lucifer's pliancy, he pressed his lips to his neck, just below his ear.
"Eat something?" He suggested, nipping at his ear gently.
Lucifer stared at the food in front of him, feeling his stomach cramping uncomfortably at the thought of putting anything in his mouth.
Alastor seemed to sense his uncertainty, and he squeezed himself to his side a bit tighter, practically purring in his ear.
"Please?" He asked, his voice lilting upwards a tad.
That was all it took. With a grumble, Lucifer picked up the croissant between his thumb and index finger, curling his lip at the pastry as if it had personally slighted him.
He brought it to his mouth, biting it begrudgingly and forcing himself to chew and swallow it. When he'd won the battle, he huffed, turning to Alastor.
"Good?" He asked, narrowing his eyes.
Alastor hummed, dissatisfied.
"Not enough," he replied, nuzzling into Lucifer's neck.
"You're obsessed," Lucifer sighed, pushing down a wave of nausea.
Alastor hummed again, teasingly.
"Dear Charlotte would be upset if you starved to death."
Lucifer rolled his eyes, pushing the tray away.
"In case you forgot, Bambi, I'm an angel. I can't starve."
With the tray further away, Alastor pulled Lucifer down to the bed, bringing him forward to rest against his chest.
Lucifer pushed away slightly, rolling to face the ceiling.
"I'm not in the mood, Al. I'm too fuckin' tired."
Alastor sighed, tugging Lucifer back against him. He guided Lucifer's arms to rest around his neck and returned to burying his face in the crook of Lucifer's neck, inhaling deeply.
"I'm not here for sex, Lucifer," he purred, pressing his lips to Lucifer's warm collarbone, "I just want to be near you."
Lucifer exhaled sleepily, running his claws through a lock of Alastor's hair.
"This isn't what we do," Lucifer whispered, letting his fingers stroke down the length of his ear, massaging into the base, "you don't like this stuff."
Alastor nodded, almost in agreement.
"You're correct. I usually don't. I'm not entirely sure why I'm so drawn to you, your Majesty."
He buried his face in Lucifer's hair, taking a deep breath.
"You are just..." he hummed, pulling him closer, "intoxicating as of late, mon cher."
Lucifer chuckled, nuzzling into Alastor's chest, reveling in the feeling of his chilled skin against Lucifer's far too warm cheek.
"I'm glad you're enjoying it, because I feel like shit."
Alastor ran his fingers over Lucifer's hot skin, blinking down at that ivory heap tucked against him.
"Have you tried to figure out what's ailing you? If I recall, you're quite adept at healing. Maybe you could pinpoint the issue and resolve it."
Lucifer hummed, opening his eyes halfway.
"I could try that," he whispered, bringing a hand to his own chest, imbuing a gentle beam of magic into his being.
He closed his eyes, feeling Alastor's chin resting in his hair. He allowed the magic to begin searching his body.
It traveled around his neck and shoulders, and, besides some inflammation, he didn't find anything that would explain the immense stiffness that encompassed him.
Alastor pulled him closer, resting a cool hand against the small of his back.
He sighed, letting the magic seep down into his intestines, once again finding nothing.
Down, down, down, and more nothing. It faltered around his lower intestines, and he was about to bring it back upwards to check his head, when it latched onto something.
Lucifer huffed, furrowing his eyebrows as he investigated. What, demonic appendicitis? He was like ninety percent sure he didn't have an appendix.
It wasn't that low. Not where his appendix would sit.
He shifted his energy deeper, swirling around until it landed on something he didn't expect.
A tiny clump of cells.
There, anchored to the wall of his uterus was a small mass, barely three centimeters across. A head, a tail, feet and hands. An embryo.
He gasped for air, pushing away from Alastor and sitting bolt upright.
The sudden movement was a mistake, and the room started spinning.
That terrible nausea returned tenfold, and he desperately lunged for the bathroom door, collapsing in front of the toilet and violently puking up what little Alastor had coaxed him into eating.
As he vomited, tears punched their way out of his eyes. His eyes, which were spasming between gold and red as his entire body panicked.
How could he have been so fucking stupid?!
The exhaustion, the nausea, the pain.
He hadn't been through any of that, not since he was pregnant with Charlie all those years ago.
He dry heaved, choking over his sobs.
He was so enveloped by a mix of retching and sobbing that he didn't hear the click of hooves on tile behind him.
A cold hand landed on his shoulder, and Lucifer nearly jumped out of his skin.
"Fuck," he breathed, jolting backwards and accidentally ramming into the bathroom wall, "Alastor, I—"
Another round of tears poured from his eyes, and he frantically grasped at his hair, curling in on himself.
"Lucifer," Alastor said, kneeling in front of him and removing his hands from that perfect head of golden hair, "calm yourself."
"Stop, stop, get off me!" He cried, struggling against Alastor's unyielding hold. Alastor's eyes narrowed, pressing his wrists against the wall to restrain him.
"Lucifer!" He yelled, managing to startle the king out of his spiral. Wide eyes stared up at him, still overflowing with tears. "What did you find? Whatever it is, I'm sure we can—"
"I'm pregnant!" He sobbed, hearing his voice echo off the walls of the bathroom.
Almost immediately, Alastor's grip disappeared. He yanked his hands away, like Lucifer had burned him.
Lucifer buried his face in his hands, each wail dragging a devastating shudder from his chest.
"You're pregnant." Alastor repeated numbly, staring at Lucifer with an indecipherable glint to his eyes. "You're certain?"
Without a word, Lucifer grabbed Alastor's wrist, bringing his palm to his lower stomach and forcing a stream of energy into Alastor's mind, displaying the image that the magic recorded as it wrapped around the barely formed limbs of the embryo.
Alastor pulled his hand away, his eyes shimmering with the remnants of Lucifer's golden magic. His gaze was fixed on Lucifer's stomach, and his chest was heaving. His smile tightened impossibly far up his cheeks, and his hands clutched at his coat.
Then, leaving nothing behind but the faint smell of smoke, he was gone.
Lucifer was alone.
Well, not entirely alone.
He should terminate it, shouldn't he?
It didn't matter that Lucifer longed for another child; Alastor wouldn't want it. Alastor wasn't like that.
Whatever unsteady corruption of a relationship they shared— it was over.
That much was clear.
He should get rid of it.
The embryo was too small, too underdeveloped to feel it. If there was a time to do it, it would have to be now.
What the fuck was he thinking?!
A murderer, a cannibal! That's whom he let fuck him?!
Sure, panting above him, burying himself inside of Lucifer, fucking him until he forgot his own name— he was fucking fantastic at that.
But, Alastor? A father?
He's kind with Charlie, breathed an unwanted voice from the deep recesses of his mind, he would be good at it.
That horrifying thought aside, that's not how divine creation worked, was it?
They both had to want it. It had to be real, not just hookup hate sex.
What was he? A month, a month and a half along?
He would have had to have conceived during one of their first meetings. That would have been during his rut, that's what started this. But, even then, it wasn't real! It wasn't—
Oh, c'mon, Bellhop, breed me. Fill me up, I need it to take.
He'd uttered between desperate thrusts. Alastor had his knees pressed above him, a hand sprawled across his lower stomach.
Put your fawns in me, Alastor.
When he'd crooned that, it didn't take long for the Radio Demon, pent up and hormonal, to stutter inside of him, coating his insides.
But, that was just roleplay, wasn't it?
He hadn't meant it.
Had he?
No! No, of course he hadn't.
It was casual. It was just to get Alastor out of the needy funk he was in. The same one that plagued every demon with the misfortune of being trapped in an animalistic body after death.
It was casual. A one time thing.
Well, no. About a twelve time thing, now.
Fuck! What the fuck does he do?
Lilith was better at this. Lilith knew what to do, even if her womb was cursed. The first time he'd gone through that, the time he carried Charlie to term, Lilith had heavily researched every step of the way.
They had planned it.
This wasn't planned.
What the fuck was he supposed to do?!
Get rid of it, that's what.
No matter how much he longed for another child, no matter how great of a big sister Charlie would be, no matter how attached he already felt to the small being, he—
No, he had to terminate.
Alastor wouldn't want this.
Alastor wouldn't want him.
Alastor would hate him.
Alastor would
"Lucifer, are you done your self-loathing spiral?"
He sucked in a breath, pressing his back to the bathroom cabinet behind him.
He whipped his head to the doorway, where Alastor stood, leaning casually against the frame.
Ironically, Lucifer imagined he resembled a deer in headlights far more than the cervine sinner.
As Alastor stepped forward, hooves clicking against the cool tile, Lucifer flinched.
When he'd opened his eyes, Alastor was offering him a hand. Trembling, he took it in his own, allowing himself to be pulled to a stand.
Holding his arm like a lifeline, Lucifer was led back to the bed, where Alastor sat him on the edge.
His eyes flickered down at Lucifer's stomach before returning to meet his gaze.
"You expelled the inadequate amount of food you choked down. You should eat more," he said, placing a piece of plain toast in Lucifer's numb hand.
Lucifer took in a shuddering breath.
"How can you stand to be around me?" He whispered, setting the toast back down on the tray.
"What do you mean?" Alastor asked, promptly returning the piece of toast to Lucifer.
"You left," he muttered, staring down at the bland slice of bread, "you left after I told you."
Alastor tapped his fingers on his leg for a moment before waving a fleeting hand in the direction of the radio, which quickly sprung to life with the sweet voice of Ella Fitzgerald.
"I needed a moment to process," he supplied, folding his hands in his lap, "and to prepare you more food, considering you're carrying my child. Please eat," he added, staring at the toast, "it will settle your stomach."
He ignored Alastor's imploring, instead choosing to rest his free hand against his stomach. He wasn't showing yet. He didn't show with Charlie for quite a while.
"You want this?" He asked, feeling his eyes beginning to water again.
"The child?" Alastor asked, as if it was that simple. "It seems clear that you want it, sire."
He blinked, not entirely feeling like he was inside his own body.
"I do," he whispered numbly, "I really do."
Alastor hummed.
"In that case, so do I. Now, Lucifer," he continued, his tone growing gravely serious as he reached to place a hand on Lucifer's knee, "do you want to know what I truly want?"
He tilted his head up at the Radio Demon, searching desperately for whatever the problem might be.
"What?" He asked, placing a hand over Alastor's.
Alastor's eyes narrowed.
"I want you to eat this cursed toast."
Lucifer scoffed, rolling his eyes as he reluctantly bit into the bland slice of bread.
He swallowed it, hating the way it dragged down his throat like sandpaper.
"I don't expect you to be involved," he muttered, taking another bite.
At that, Alastor stilled.
"Why not?" He asked, handing Lucifer a glass of water.
Lucifer stared at his tiny reflection in the glass, all white and gold, with a small splotch of red leaning over his shoulder.
"I can't imagine you care much for domestic life," Lucifer whispered, bringing the glass to his lips and taking a sip, "you wouldn't want to be held down by something like that."
A gentle laugh came from Alastor, and he cocked his head, taking the glass from Lucifer.
"If you expect me to be a deadbeat father, you are sorely mistaken, your Highness."
"What?"
"And, furthermore," he continued, his smile twisting into a tense grimace, "I would greatly appreciate it if you could graciously refrain from deciding for yourself what I want."
"But, Alastor—" he stammered, his thought cut off when Alastor squeezed his hand.
"Eat," he growled, snarling, "and after that, you should bathe. It will help with the aching in your muscles."
"Will you be joining me?" He asked, mentally cursing himself for the pathetic hopefulness that permeated his tone.
Alastor hummed, crossing his arms.
"I don't know," he said, sitting up straighter, "it depends on whether or not you eat, you buffoon."
Lucifer sighed, taking another bite.
"Alastor," he said after swallowing, "I'm serious. I'm giving you an out. You don't have to be a part of this. That isn't what you planned. I'm giving you an opportunity to leave."
Alastor huffed, his eyebrows pinching together.
"What makes you think that I want that? I'll tell you something, sire. My own father was the lowest of the low. He left my mother and I to rot. The little time he did spend with us, he spent taking out his frustration on my mother and myself."
Lucifer's face dropped, and he willed himself to stop gaping at the man.
"Alastor, you—"
"Quiet," Alastor growled, shoving a second piece of toast in Lucifer's mouth, "you will not interrupt. You will eat while I speak."
Lucifer flushed slightly and reached for it, his eyes falling to the toast in his weak grasp. Without further complaint, he took a bite of the bland bread.
"Good boy," Alastor purred, nearly making Lucifer choke, "now, hush. Whilst I had been certain I would never sire a child due to my more peculiar desires, I vowed from my adolescence that, if I should, I would be a better father than the failure I was cursed with. Which is exactly what I am going to do now."
He brought his hands to knead into Lucifer's shoulders, earning a pleased sigh from the tired man.
"As for this being unplanned, you would be correct. However, I feel the need to remind you that many things in life are unplanned, and not all of those are bad things."
He let his hands travel down Lucifer's back, doting on each and every knot that presented itself.
"Charlie's dream was unplanned. My extended stay at this hotel was unplanned."
His hands wrapped loosely around Lucifer's waist, this time settling over his stomach with a newfound tenderness.
"Our unique partnership was unplanned, but I'd certainly categorize it under positive. You didn't know that the night Charlie sent you to check on me... the state you would find me in."
He shrugged gently, resting his chin against Lucifer's shoulder.
"I certainly didn't plan for you to so discreetly offer yourself as a means to ease the self-treacherous situation I was stuck in."
Calculating red eyes flicked over Lucifer's face, and he pressed a soft kiss to his cheekbone.
"I can't imagine either of us planned to relish it as much as we did. Nor did we plan for those rendezvouses to continue."
Alastor sighed, closing his eyes. His arms snaked further around Lucifer, holding him comfortably against his chest as he shifted behind him.
"I danced through life without connection to those around me. I never entertained the idea of a romantic relationship, in any capacity. Most people I viewed as beneath me. Sleazy men or infatuated women just seeking a night of shameless intimacy in the bayou. I indulged in their company a few times, I must admit, but I never found myself truly satisfied by the time morning greeted me. There were simply better pastimes than some insecure man pinning me against the mangroves, calling me a faggot as if he wasn't the one who proposed the idea— some fetishizer of a woman lusting after the embrace of a mixed man, disappointed when I don't fulfill her fantasy of being dominated and taken by a savage black man like myself."
"Alastor," Lucifer began, placing a hand over Alastor's where it rested over his stomach.
"Eat, please, my dear." He whispered, pressing another kiss to his head, this time right below the temple.
"All of that nonsense is to say that I really never valued the company of my peers. I carried that belief into my afterlife, much to the dismay of that glorified Etch-a-Sketch whom you so despise. Vincent simply couldn't understand that I wouldn't want a man so clearly desperate for power and even more desperate for a... what is it he called me? A twink like me to bury himself in, regardless of his homophobia so blatant that one could barely refer to it as internalized. Of course, he hated himself for his preferences, but he hated everyone else far more!"
He chuckled at that, sighing again, his chest curling against Lucifer's back.
"Then, I was sent here. And it was here that I met you."
Lucifer perked up slightly at that, turning his head. Alastor grinned softly, catching his lips for a brief kiss before parting. Lucifer reveled at the faint flush that painted his cheekbones.
"And, at first, I despised you. Truly and honestly. But, I noticed some things about you. Your desperate need to please Charlie. Your distaste towards sinners. Particularly, however, I noticed your adeptness when it came to the violin."
Lucifer hummed, smirking.
"Johnny lied, you know," he mused, pressing his forehead to Alastor's, "I beat his ass. I just didn't need the kid's soul, I just wanted to get out of the house."
"And you picked Georgia?" Alastor asked, grinning as he twirled a strand of golden hair around his claw.
"Better than Hell," Lucifer shrugged, leaning into Alastor's touch.
At that, Alastor raised an eyebrow.
"Is it?" He asked, kissing his nose.
"No," Lucifer admitted, flushing, "now keep talking about how great I am."
Alastor hummed devilishly, evidently pleased.
"Oh, gladly, Mr. Sin of Pride. As a musician myself, I must say, I was impressed by your abilities during our little duet. Furthermore, although your use of it is scathingly idiotic, I found your power of creation to be remarkable."
Seemingly satisfied by the amount of food Lucifer had begrudgingly consumed, Alastor pulled him backwards, gently toppling them onto the bed.
Alastor's arms tightened as he tugged him closer to his chest, huffing as he nuzzled into Lucifer's neck.
"As we continued our little rivalry, I found myself unfortunately besotted with you. The way your delicate features contrasted with your demanding nature." He chuckled, lightly nipping at his neck. "Your Napoleon complex."
With a scoff, Lucifer pushed him away slightly.
"Watch it," he growled, his hand against Alastor's chest.
Alastor hummed, smirking as he drew closer, pressing an open mouthed kiss to Lucifer's jaw, whining gently.
"Fuck," he whimpered, huffing in a breath, "you smell fantastic. I suppose that makes more sense now, doesn't it? How enamored I've been the past week or so."
He paused, staring down at Lucifer with a quizzical smile.
"You have me acting like a common man," he sighed, leaning into Lucifer's touch as his charred fingers glided down his ears, "desperate for your touch. I've never experienced that before. Just wanting to be beside someone."
He let his hand travel downwards, stuttering in front of his stomach, dripping with uncertainty.
Lucifer exhaled, reaching for Alastor's hand and pulling it flush against the skin of his stomach.
Alastor let out a shuddering breath, his thumb gently caressing Lucifer.
"You won't feel anything yet," Lucifer whispered, almost apologetically, "it's too early."
Alastor's chest heaved again, and uncharacteristically soft red eyes flickered over Lucifer's porcelain face.
"Do you know how far along?"
Lucifer closed his eyes, thinking.
"I'm pretty sure I conceived during your rut."
At Alastor's tense smile, Lucifer brought his hands to either side of Alastor's jaw, gently kneading tiny circles into the overworked muscles.
"I know you hate it. I'm sorry."
Alastor didn't respond, just sighed and nuzzled into Lucifer's touch.
At the silence, Lucifer found himself wanting to explain.
"Usually, these sort of things don't just happen. I mean, even before our... partnership, I had the same parts as I do now. I never changed them after Charlie. I didn't have a need to. So, I had them, but they didn't work. I mean, I never got a period, never—"
"Never what?"
Lucifer stopped in his tracks, sheepishly meeting Alastor's blank eyes.
"Never got a period? Like, never had that time of the month?" At Alastor's unreadable expression, he found himself rambling.
"Aunt Flo, surfing the crimson wave, Shark Week?"
"Fuck sharks," Alastor muttered, narrowing his eyes.
Lucifer found himself gaping at Alastor, bewildered.
"Al, there's no way you don't know what a period is. Did you have any sisters? Any girl cousins? What about, uh, Minnie?"
"Mimzy." Alastor corrected.
"Yeah, yeah, Mimzy! She ever act a little different? Maybe get annoyed easy, complain about cramps? Usually around the same time each month?"
Alastor nodded bluntly.
"Yes, of course," he responded simply, "she expressed her sensitivity when she was on the rag, the poor girl."
Lucifer paused, raising an eyebrow.
"On the rag?" He repeated, blinking up at him.
Alastor hummed, nodding.
"Mhm, a polite euphemism for menstruation."
"Fuck you and your 1930's slang," he growled, rolling over to his back.
Alastor, unfazed as always, just reached for Lucifer's hand and brought it to his mouth, softly pressing his lips to his palm.
Giving in, Lucifer shifted back to face Alastor, his eyes still slightly narrowed.
"I didn't take any precautions because I didn't think it was possible for this to happen." He shivered briefly as Alastor's palm pressed back against his stomach. "For divine conception to take place, it has to be a deliberate decision from both parties. Unfortunately, I didn't realize that the kinky shit I was moaning in your ear counted as a decision."
Alastor thrummed, a gentle noise from his chest.
"And, of course, in my state, I was more than eager to provide you with exactly what you begged for."
At Lucifer's melancholic silence, Alastor's lips tightened. Before tears could fall, Alastor pressed a line of warm kisses to Lucifer's cheeks.
"I don't regret what I did," he whispered, staring hungrily at Lucifer's lips before surrendering and catching him in a kiss, soft and passionate, "knowing what I know now, I wouldn't change it."
Lucifer's lip trembled with a slight sniffle, and he closed his eyes against the cool palm on his cheek.
"Are you sure?" He asked, his voice breaking.
The gentle flame in Alastor's eyes grew, and he was drawn into another desperate kiss, this one deeper and harder.
"Yes," he panted, as if pulling away dealt him physical pain, "I'm certain."
"Okay," Lucifer breathed, feeling his hand cradling his still primarily flat stomach— perhaps there was a gentle curve, now that he was thinking about it, "okay. I think I'm probably a month and a half along, then. I don't know for sure, I'd have to go to Belphegor to check, and—"
Oh, fuck!
Belphegor!
He had to schedule an appointment, shit, it's been nearly a century since Charlie's last pediatric appointment.
With a frantic wave, he summoned his phone, sitting up.
He dialed the number of the Sin, putting the phone up to his ear.
It rang a few times, and Lucifer was worried she wouldn't pick up, when—
"Luci?" Came an incredibly sleepy voice from the other side. "You woke me up."
Lucifer exhaled, thankful.
"Bel, honey, it's four in the afternoon."
"Yeah?" She asked, yawning. "And you woke me up."
He felt a gentle nudge at his side, and he was met with imploring eyes.
With a sigh, he let a hand fall atop Alastor's head, softly dragging his claws through that red fur.
Belphegor, he mouthed, getting him an understanding nod in return.
"Listen, Bel, I'm gonna need an appointment, preferably soon?"
He heard the sound of a pen click, and her tired voice droned on.
"Okay. Keep in mind, I'm pretty booked out, so... it might take a while. What, you finally taking me up on those antidepressants?"
Lucifer's lips tightened into a fine line, and he absentmindedly chewed on his cheek.
"No, not that."
A slight groan.
"Then what, Luci? It better be important, waking me up like that."
His fingers paused in Alastor's hair.
"Bel, I'm pregnant. Probably a little more than amonth along."
There was a choking sound on the other end, and Lucifer heard the sound of whatever booking binder she had clattering to the floor.
"What?!" She sputtered, much louder. "Lucifer! How— who?!"
"It's a long story," Lucifer whispered, blinking down at the who in question sprawled across his lap, ears twitching, "how soon can I get an appointment?"
There was a far more exhausted than usual groan from the other end.
"Fuck you, Lucifer," she growled, "I'll see you tomorrow at twelve, don't be late."
"Love you?" He said gently, his voice lilting upwards.
"Fuck you, I'm mad at you!"
Click.
Belphegor was not pleased with him.