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It had been a long night of drinking.
Shot after shot, glass after glass – Alastor felt the warmness of alcohol swimming inside of him as he lay, gazing up at the ceiling.
He had watched Vox take down 2 and a half bottles of beer like a champion, then watched him swig back many shots of liquor. He had watched Lucifer guzzle down glasses of mango vodka and green apple whiskey.
…Interesting tastes in alcohol that little king had.
And him?
He was a little far gone.
He frog-blinked.
The three of them had occupied themselves with various forms of drunken shenanigans and hoo-hollery.
…It had been a long night.
In this present moment, however, Alastor found himself in the king of hell’s bedroom, laying dazedly on his mattress. Lucifer flanked him on the bed to his left, while Vox lay on his right side, crumpled unceremoniously on the floor. Of course Vox is relegated to the floor.
He looked at the ceiling. It seemed to be making shapes.
He had been laying there for a while. He had stripped himself of his coat, pants, and undergarments, and was now lying rather nudely with his shirt unbuttoned and his garish scar revealed. He was feeling awfully and intensely some terrible thing, and would absolutely not be perceived in the common areas in such a state, in front of the others. He knew Lucifer would find him; he followed him like a dog.
No, he had a predicament. He was awfully drunk, awfully high (he had sucked on that bong of theirs alongside his glasses of whisky… and how could he not? It had such a charming gimmick and such a dazzling design…) and… worst of all…
He was feeling… …aroused.
Aroused, as if he wanted to be touched. To be felt and pleasured.
He wanted to be penetrated.
…He’d like to orgasm, he supposed.
…
It must be the alcohol, he thought.
Yes, it must be the alcohol…
Though, not only the alcohol....
He was also…
Menstruating.
Yes, that certainly had something to do with it.
The ceiling made patterns.
…This is ridiculous.
What was he to do? Ask Vox to please him?
He looked down at him, at his flat face planted on the floor.
Certainly not him.
Lucifer, on the other hand…
This was his plan all along. You see, he had vacated the hotel’s common area (it was getting rather rowdy anyhow, and Alastor was in no state of mind for the intoxicated tomfoolery of some of the… other residents…) and retreated in wait for somebody to lay him in Lucifer’s room, where Alastor knew he would be expected. He had even made sure to place a towel down so the bedsheets would not be stained with his blood. His bleeding vagina exposed itself to the air, waiting to be touched.
There was only one eensy, teensy hiccup in the plan, though. Lucifer was rather… fried, and that made him… hard to work with.
He turned to Lucifer. He placed his claws on Lucifer’s body, eliciting a hazy sound from him.
“Lucifer,” Alastor said. He had already taken hold of one of Lucifer’s hands and was carrying it to his exposed pelvis. “...finger me, won’t you, dear…?”
Lucifer mumbled something, clearly in some sort of drunken stupor (it seemed a miracle that he even made it to the bed… clearly, Vox could not.) but he could at least obey commands, as he whined and felt the lips of Alastor’s vulva.
Alastor’s ears fell back quickly. Lucifer’s fingers were always magnificent, no matter how sloppy.
“Ohhhh…” Alastor whined. He whimpered and gritted his teeth. “...put them in…!”
Lucifer put them in.
Alastor raised his hooves in the air and crooned a noise of eroticism, etched on its edges with static.
“...Oh, yes…” he moaned. Lucifer’s fingers were immensely satisfying and dragged along his vaginal walls deliciously.
Alastor found, in this drunken and faded state, that the higher he lifted his legs in the air, the better the fingers felt. Given this information, he put his knees together and kicked his hooves as Lucifer pumped into him haphazardly.
“...yes…!” Alastor mewled. He was attempting to control his volume so as to not disturb Vox. Who knows what would happen if Vox awoke? There was no controlling that man’s libido… though, he was terribly drunk, drunk enough to have fallen face down on the floor and not get up (for the approximate 15 minutes he had been here… what had Vox even been doing here, anyways?! Why did that man have to follow them around?!), so… perhaps he could afford a little noise…! Gradually, his sounds grew louder, which made the overall experience more pleasurable.
“...nnng… fuck…” Alastor breathed. “...fuck my bloody pussy…!”
Lucifer fucked his bloody pussy.
The words registered as slightly ridiculous to his right mind, but his not-right mind (which he was clearly overtaken by in this moment) found his own demands to be sexually stimulating. Yes, he liked the sound of his own voice; he liked how it sounded accompanied by the nasty shlk shlk of his bloodied vagina.
However, this only lasted…2 minutes. 2 minutes was far less than enough to satiate Alastor’s current level of arousal. Lucifer pulled out suddenly, and Alastor glared at him, flicking his ear.
“…what are you doing?” He said. “Who said you could stop?”
Lucifer did not say anything.
Alastor snarled and reached for his hand again, but hesitated.
…did Lucifer know his fingers were coated with Alastor’s blood? Did he want to stain his nice, silky sheets?
Lucifer did not even stir. He simply laid there, slowly rising, falling, rising, and falling with each of his breaths…
Alastor propped himself slightly on his elbows and quietly observed him. The corner of his mouth twitched. His ear twitched.
Well…?
…?
…
Lucifer was knocked out cold.
He looked over at Vox, also knocked out cold on the hard floor.
…now what?
He could not just allow Lucifer to sleep with menstrual blood on his hands…! It would get on his hair, on his skin, on his precious sheets…! Usually, Alastor did not pay mind to any instance of blood, and this situation was certainly no different…
However, he thought of Lucifer again, of what he would think to awake to his hair soiled with Alastor’s dried blood. Or if he woke and saw nasty, crusty menstruation covering his fingertips.
Surely, Alastor thought, Lucifer was far too drunk right now to be dealing with this.
Alastor did not care. The King, though, was a little different, and he unfortunately had invaded his mind.
Hmmmm.
Alastor gets an idea.
He would simply… clean them himself…!
He smiled and took Lucifer’s hand. He observed his fingers. On them was a pungent red sheen that travelled in thin glops down, down to Lucifer’s knuckles. Alastor was very pleased with this sight.
Gently, he began licking them. He lapped them up sweetly, flip flopping his ears this way and that as he experienced the taste of his menstrual blood.
…Tasty…
Shadowy, slick tentacles began to trail up his own body, wrapping gently around his ankle and coming to brush over his vagina. He sighed and wrapped his lips around Lucifer’s fingers, slurping them pleasedly.
With the addition of this cleaning task, Alastor’s tentacles became a more-than-fine replacement for Lucifer’s fingers. Fingers which are, apparently, spectacular noise suppressants, as he found his moans deeply muffled around them. He licked and sucked Lucifer’s fingers dry as he immersed himself in the feeling of his tentacle squirming inside him and stretching him open. Around him, black tendrils flicked and teased his fur.
After a while, when he felt his cleaning work to be sufficient, he pulled the fingers out of his mouth to inspect them. He turned Lucifer’s hand to ensure all the blood had been sucked off (while his tentacle pumped into him, mind you), and upon seeing all evidence of his menstruation erased, he grinned (with about as much tact as a cross-faded man could have). Then, he placed Lucifer’s hand gently by his side, where he had been curled up during the ordeal. He simply continued to fuck himself.
He continued this until he orgasmed. His climax washed over him satisfyingly.
Despite his throbbing cunt, he whimpered and continued to pleasure himself. Alastor found this very overstimulating quite quickly and had to pull out to save himself.
He laid there, huffing and puffing.
The ceiling, with its delightful shapes and colors…
…
...
...
He realized what he had done and groaned.
He rolled onto his side and fell asleep.
The End