Drink Menu
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Summary
A disturbing crack accompanied Alastor's neck snapping into a very unhealthy tilt. Claw-tipped fingers drummed out a staccato rhythm on the glass bottle.
"Drink with me," Alastor insisted, brandishing the bottle in Lucifer's face, and wasn't that an odd request. When had Alastor shared anything with him beyond a residential address and a blithe disdain for television?
"Why would I do that?"
"Because I'm bored, and you are astonishingly the most entertaining thing in this hotel at the moment."
Nothing spiced up a night in the Hazbin Hotel's staff-only parlor quite like the Devil, the Radio Demon, and a very expensive bottle of bourbon from Cannibal Town.
Series
- Part 1 of Drink Menu
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Summary
Perhaps the King didn’t care for champagne, or thought that drinking should only be done far away from his daughter if it had even the slightest chance of leading to sexual favors from her facility manager.
Then again, Lucifer’s disinterest in his champagne might have had something to do with the distraction under the table, courtesy of Alastor.
As it turned out, giving one’s shadow free rein to misbehave as it pleased was an excellent way to pass the time. Shadows had a knack for hiding in plain sight, and Alastor’s shadow in particular came up with such clever ideas in the dimmest corners of the hotel.
Like the space between Lucifer’s legs, right where the lip of the conference table cast oh-so-convenient shadows.
Alastor finds a way to keep staff meetings entertaining.
Series
- Part 2 of Drink Menu
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“What the fuck are you doing here?” Lucifer hissed.
“I own this shop! Or rather, I own the soul of the proprietor.” Alastor laughed to himself like any of this was remotely normal and surely Lucifer was living in a simulation, or a reality show was secretly being filmed about him.
“You do not.”
“I assure you, I do.”
Lucifer felt sweat gathering at the nape of his overheated neck, an astounding feat for an angel who ran as hot as the stars themselves. Maybe he would simply explode and take Alastor and the entire coffee shop out with him.
Lucifer tries to avoid Alastor and his increasingly complex feelings about their physical relationship. He fails miserably.
Series
- Part 3 of Drink Menu
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Summary
“You want me to touch you?” Alastor asked.
“I’d like to try.”
It was the most agreeable he’d been all night. The furthest they’d gotten from that spiritless ragdoll-Devil he’d been greeted with the moment he stepped on this roof. A little fanning of the flames between them on Alastor’s part would make things right as rain; Lucifer wasn’t a wet blanket, he was an accelerant. If Alastor wanted to hook them back into their normal routine this was the way forward.
Alastor and Lucifer have a long-overdue conversation about the pleasurable benefits of compromise.
Series
- Part 4 of Drink Menu
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Summary
“And what exactly are we making?”
If looks could kill, Lucifer’s corpse would be repurposed into garnish for Alastor’s Old Fashioned by day’s end.
“You cannot be serious. Is your geriatric mind so addled by ducks and dicks that it’s forgotten why we’re here?”
“What type?” Lucifer clarified. “Whiskey, tequila, that green stuff that makes you hallucinate?”
“Bathtub gin!” Alastor sang, summoning his band of shadow puppets to play a jazzy melody for their singular audience member. “Moonshine, white lightning, hooch. And my personal favorite–” he continued, sliding onto the couch beside Lucifer and slinging an arm around his shoulder “–coffin varnish, due to the ~poisonous~ risks associated with shoddy homemade liquor.”
“Are we making it in the bathtub?” Lucifer asked, highly interested in the idea of sharing a bath with Alastor.
After sweet Charlie’s efforts to boost redemption rates results in a ban on alcohol at the Hazbin Hotel, resident dipsomaniacs Alastor and Lucifer find their own way to have fun.
Series
- Part 5 of Drink Menu
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Summary
His fingers twitched. Hardly fair for him to only get attention in secret rooms. Alastor was just as worthy of the kitchen. Lucifer had hardly paid him any mind for two weeks, and now that they’d gotten a moment alone he chose to spend it fussing over the right cinnamon-to-clove ratio.
That would not do.
Without a whisper of sound Alastor came up behind his King, laying heavy hands on Lucifer’s shoulders. Another cage, should he want it. He let one finger make the barest hint of contact with the sliver of neck above the collar, counting each beat that thrummed beneath the warm skin.
“Hey there, hot stuff,” Lucifer teased, earning the pinprick of sharp claws into his shoulders. “What? I was talking about the pot on the stove. Watch out, very hot stuff here, don’t burn yourself.”
It’s movie night at the Hazbin Hotel. Alastor and Lucifer take a detour to the kitchen… and the pantry… and Lucifer’s bedroom.
Series
- Part 6 of Drink Menu
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Perhaps, just a bit, he’d like to kiss Alastor too. Call it curiosity, or insanity. A death wish. Another tempting apple, this one between his teeth. And if giving humans free will had gotten him sentenced to an eternity in Hell he could only imagine the punishment Alastor would unleash upon him for a stolen kiss.
Alastor was not nearly so benevolent as angels. Not that that had ever stopped Lucifer before. The thread holding him back was fraying.
Who said friends couldn’t kiss? If friends could fuck they could kiss.
And they were friends. Right?
Lucifer should really ask him about that.
It’s Halloween at the Hazbin Hotel, and a series of late-night radio broadcasts leave Lucifer desperate and Alastor spiraling.
Series
- Part 7 of Drink Menu
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Summary
“To show you what you could have had, if you’d left the concert with me and kept that impolite tongue in check, I’m going to take off every stitch of my clothing,” Alastor breathed, tasting the desperation in the sweat that beaded on Lucifer’s temple.
A choked puff of air released against his palm, and the lap beneath him squirmed. He wondered if Lucifer would cry, or perhaps finish in his pants; Alastor would consider either reaction evidence of a job well done.
Tied to a chair for hurting Alastor’s feelings, Lucifer must abide by ‘look, don’t touch’ when faced with the Radio Demon’s cruelest punishment yet: a diabolical striptease and a romp with his own shadow.
Series
- Part 8 of Drink Menu