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Alastor knows he is quite different from the majority when it comes to sex. Even in his living years, he’d watched with curious indifference as his peers began to experiment, searching out partners and experiences. Of course, it certainly didn’t help matters that being a person of his persuasion was a punishable offense in the 1920s, but even after shedding his mortal coil and falling into the pits of Hell at the tender age of thirty-five, Alastor came to understand that he was not easily moved to arousal even when he had the freedom to explore.
He was not, however, repulsed by intercourse. On the contrary, he was usually amenable to the idea, especially after Lucifer had come into his life. After all, the thing Alastor enjoyed having stroked the most was his ego, and few things could satisfy that particular itch better than having the first-born of Heaven come apart in his hand or shatter above him and fill him with his heat. How could he, just a lowly sinner at the end of the day, not feel anything but intense satisfaction that the literal king of Hell crawled nightly to his bed like a supplicant seeking the benediction of his deity? But even so, sexual contact was not something that he often desired.
Now, though?
It must have been the fluctuation in hormones that Belphegor had warned him of. Those damn things which had made him suffer the disgrace of spending more mornings than not with his head in a toilet in the early days of his pregnancy now saw fit to have him in a near constant state of frustrated arousal.
Which is how Alastor finds himself alone in his bedroom, supposedly “resting” but in reality trying to appease the insistent ache between his legs. Alastor presses his thighs together and shifts his hips from side to side, sighing deeply through his nose. The motion wakes his child, and it squirms and pushes against the confines of his womb. Somehow, those little movements only add to his need. He strokes his belly in time with the rhythm of his hips, trying to soothe the baby even as he grows increasingly hot and bothered. Sighing with irritation, he finally gives in and slips a hand beneath the waistband of his maternity pants, shuddering when his fingers find their mark.
It’s better than nothing, but only just. He’s never spent much time actively pursuing self-pleasure. He had been rather content to let Lucifer take the lead there on the off occasion that Alastor was moved to lust. After all, the man—well, fallen seraph—has been perfecting his technique since the literal dawn of creation; Alastor would be a fool not to take advantage of such vast experience. Now his own fingers feel large and clumsy, somehow clinical. To make matters worse, the considerable swell of his pregnancy makes it difficult for him to find the angle he needs. Several frustrating minutes later, he gives up, unfulfilled, feeling both oversensitive and yet somehow more aroused than before.
He struggles off the mattress and heads downstairs. As loath as he is to admit it, he needs to find release before he loses his mind.
He needs to find Lucifer.
Charlie brightens the instant she sees him. Once the initial shock of the double revelation that he and her father were not only an item but that she was also due a little brother or sister in the not so distant future, Charlie had welcomed him into the Morningstar family with all the love and enthusiasm she was capable of—which was considerable, bless her heart. The regular crew is all in attendance. By the look of it, they are about to begin some sort of bonding activity: Charlie has tables set up with enough arts and crafts supplies to rival Lucifer’s workshop.
“Hey, Alastor! If you’re feeling up to it, we were just about to—”
“My apologies, dear, but I’m actually in need of your father. There’s something I need to discuss with him as a matter of urgency.”
Perhaps not the best opening gambit. The gathered assembly looks concerned, but none more so than Lucifer. Damn it.
“Something wrong, Al?”
“No, no. There’s just something I—”
“Is it the baby? I can call Belphegor if you’re not feeling well. Just gimme a second.”
Lucifer already has his phone in hand. Alastor feels his eye twitch.
“Lucifer. Bedroom. Now.”
To his credit, Lucifer snaps open a portal back to their bedroom without further ado. Alastor strides through it (well, as much as one can stride with something the size of a large cabbage and twice as heavy nestled in his pelvis) with Lucifer hot on his heels.
“What’s up, Al? Everything okay?”
Alastor opens his mouth, but promptly closes it. He realizes that he has no idea how to express his need in a way that is not an absolute affront to his own highly-held sense of propriety and decorum. Usually it was Lucifer who made the first overtures of intimacy. His low murmurs, soft touches, and bedroom eyes left little room for misunderstanding, but Alastor could not ever hope to imitate those gestures without looking like an utter fool.
A gentle hand on his cheek pulls him from his thoughts, and he realizes now that his radio static had been growing in volume, betraying his inner turmoil.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” You sure you don’t need me to call Belphegor?” Lucifer looks so damn concerned that Alastor could kick himself for not being able to speak his mind.
Him? The Radio Demon? At a loss for words? Impossible!
“No,” he answers with easy conviction, but his other desires are not so forthcoming. Lucifer is patient as Alastor searches for the words.
“I… need you,” he manages at last, ears pinning flat to his head as a heat he knows Lucifer can feel blooms over his cheeks.
Lucifer’s thumb traces an arc over Alastor’s sharp cheekbone. “I’m right here, Bambi.”
Fuck. “No, that’s not—... I need you to—I want…” Alastor closes his eyes. “I need you to touch me. Intimately.”
For a moment, the room is so quiet that Alastor is certain he can hear his pride shattering. He cracks open an eye just in time to see the colors of Lucifer’s wide eyes invert.
“Al,” he says softly, as though he is afraid to wake from whatever dream this is. “Honey, are you actually asking me to have sex with you?”
The ease with which Lucifer articulates his own desire so bluntly is a bridge too far for Alastor. “Nevermind,” he hisses hastily, but Lucifer catches his hand before he can turn away.
“Woah, hey! Hold on there, cowboy. Let’s just take a second, okay?. Shit, Al, if you’re actually asking me to have sex with you, then baby, I am at your immediate and enthusiastic disposal here. It’s just, I mean, you never ask…”
“I am well aware of my own proclivities, thank you,” Alastor snaps, but gives into a sigh. The king’s eagerness to bed him is doing things to the flame of desire licking at the bottom of his belly, and Alastor’s need is becoming too urgent to ignore. “Today is… different.”
A light clicks on in the attic of Lucifer’s brain. He cocks an eyebrow with a knowing smile. “Pregnancy hormones got you feeling a little frisky, huh?”
Raido dials appear in Alastor’s eyes and though Lucifer laughs, he knows not to push his luck any further; he’s not exactly keen to find out what might happen to his unborn child should Alastor go full wendigo-mode on him.
“I’ve got you, Al. Don’t worry.”
With a snap of his fingers, both of them are undressed and Lucifer is slipping his hand into Alastor’s to guide him to the foot of the bed. “Sit down here for me.”
Alastor feels the heat of Lucifer’s gaze on him as he carefully lowers himself down, spreading his legs slightly to make room for his belly. Lucifer’s throat clicks around a swallow as he leans in for a kiss. Their lips meet softly, and like a flower under the sun, Alastor blooms for Lucifer. Kiss follows kiss, deep and slow, and hands tangle in hair until Alastor is warm and aching.
“Please,” he whispers against Lucifer’s lips, and the devil drags his fingers over the planes and curves of his body as he moves down off the bed.
“Lean back on your elbows for me,” he purrs, and Alastor’s compliance is rewarded with a kiss on the underside of his belly, allowing Lucifer the space he needs to kneel on the floor between his legs. The air feels cool against the wetness that has gathered there, and he shivers.
"Fuck, Al. I haven’t even touched you yet…”
He cannot see Lucifer past the swell of his belly, but he can hear the delight in his voice. Alastor feels heat spread across his cheeks once again. “If your only intention is to tease me—”
“Who’s teasing?” His hands slowly glide over his thighs. “I am admiring. There’s a difference.”
“I had hoped that you would put your mouth to other purposes while you were down there.”
“Oh?”
Alastor feels Lucifer use his thumbs to spread him wider and he bites his lip. Heat pools low in his belly in anticipation as he can feel Lucifer’s breath hot against his most intimate parts.
“And what exactly did you want me to do with my mouth?”
“Lucifer, I swear, I—”
Alastor never finishes his thought because suddenly Lucifer’s mouth is on him and he is seeing stars. His desire is like a spring coiled at the base of his spine, and every lick of Lucifer’s tongue winds it further until his muscles are tight as tripwires.
It is bliss.
Yet, somehow, it is not enough.
Alastor growls deep in his throat. He rolls his hips as much as he can, searching for more of something he can’t articulate. Then, to his great dismay, Lucifer pulls away and the spring begins to loosen.
“Don’t you dare leave me like this,” he snarls, radio dials flashing in his eyes. The effect is somewhat weakened by the flush he wears from cheek to chest and the tremble in his voice. Lucifer licks his grinning lips.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ve got you. I’ve got an idea. You wanna try riding me?”
“Do I want to what? ”
Lucifer laughs at the scandal in Alastor’s voice. “You on top. It’ll put you in control, and it should be comfortable for you.”
Lucifer grows in stature as he climbs onto the bed, and Alastor can’t help but notice that the increase in size is proportional in all areas. The king of hell seems completely comfortable in his nudity as he climbs onto the bed and reaches for Alastor with one hand and pats his thigh with the other.
“C’mon, Bambi. Take a seat on your royal throne.”
Alastor scoffs, but he feels his mouth soften into a real smile. Lucifer is an insufferable fool at times, but he is his insufferable fool.
Getting into position is something of a minor ordeal. He feels awkward and acutely aware of his size as he negotiates his way on top of Lucifer. He almost backs down, feeling ridiculous and huge, but Lucifer’s patience stays him. His hands are helpful and his face is shining with that stupid look of pure adoration that just does things to Alastor’s insides.
It takes a few tries, but Lucifer’s length at last slides home and he helps Alastor settle on top of him. When Alastor begins to move, he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that this is what he had been wanting. He shivers as he circles his hips slowly, keeping Lucifer seated inside as he grinds against his pelvic bone. Moaning softly, he reaches back for Lucifer’s knee to brace himself, face tilted up, eyes closed.
“That’s right, Alastor,” Lucifer murmurs from beyond the darkness of his closed eyes. Alastor feels his hand wandering over his belly, testing the weight of it in his hands in a way that sends another rush of wetness to where they are intimately joined. “Take what you need. Fuck, you’re so hot.”
And take he does, his body greedy for the release Lucifer promises to provide. He alternates circling and bouncing and grinding, exploring the shape of his pleasure until his skin is slick with sweat and he is openly panting. He loves the feeling of exerting himself, the strain in his muscles rewarded with little shocks of pleasure.
“Good boy,” Lucifer praises, sounding just as breathless as Alastor feels. The sinner cracks open his eyes and shudders just from how Lucifer is looking at him.
“Can I try moving?” Lucifer asks, his hands finding their way to Alastor’s hips.
“Nnn, yes. But, not too deep?”
Lucifer moves his hips in a gentle counterpoint to Alastor’s circular rhythm, and Alastor’s claws dig into the angel’s knee.
“Oh, yes, darling. Yes! Lucifer, just like that. Just so.”
Lucifer’s groans and whispered praises form the underpinning of the melody of Alastor’s sighs and ragged gasps, the song driven by the steady rhythm of their hips. Soon, they wake the little fawn inside, and Alastor presses his other hand against the side of his belly where he can feel their child pushing. He feels so wonderfully full with the weight of the baby in front of him and Lucifer’s heat deep inside.
Alastor’s expression pinches, the pleasure he feels so intense it is nearly pain as he bounces on Lucifer's cock in earnest. “Close. Faster, Lucifer. Oh, fuck, please! ”
All at once, the spring that is coiled at the base of his spine releases and Alastor is gone.
Sobbing his release, he is distantly aware of Lucifer's hands tightening on his hips and the sensation of warmth flowing into him as the king follows him over the edge.
After some indeterminable amount of time later, once Lucifer has grown soft, he helps Alastor dismount, his hips sore and stiff, and settles him onto his side.
“Too much?” Lucifer asks softly, stroking Alastor’s still-tremoring flank, watching how his belly heaves with each breath, but the concern on his face is wiped away when Alastor opens his eyes and smiles. Returning that smile like a fool, Lucifer gently slips a thick, firm pillow under Alastor’s belly.
“Damn, Bambi. That was pretty hot.” His fingers find his way to the base of Alastor’s ears, scratching in a way he knows that he likes.
“Hush,” Alastor replies, ignoring the heat he feels on his cheeks.
Lucifer presses a kiss to that cheek. “Just know that I got you day or night, sweetheart.”
“You sound like Angel Dust. Are you so confident in your libido, your Majesty?”
Lucifer laughs. “With you as my partner? Absolutely.”
Alastor responds with a grumble, but a little wisp of doubt settles into a corner of his mind. It is not until Lucifer has pressed up against his back and begun to stroke his belly that Alastor finally gives it voice.
“Does it bother you? Our… the lack of sex between us.”
Lucifer’s hand stills. “Um, what are you talking about? We just did it.”
“I don’t mean just now, you nitwit. I mean in general.”
“We have sex, Al. I mean, the proof of that is literally right here,” he replies as Lucifer pats his belly.
Sighing in irritation, Alastor turns as much as he can to shoot Lucifer a withering look over his shoulder. “Are you being intentionally obtuse? What I mean is, you clearly enjoy sex whereas my own feelings towards the subject are… complicated. And as you mentioned, I never initiate our encounters. Do you never find yourself wishing for more?”
Lucifer's face is serious. “Never. Put the thought from your mind. I love being with you in whatever way you’ll have me.”
“Hardly seems fair to ignore your own needs,” Alastor mutters, but Lucifer turns his face back to him before he can look away.
“No. My needs are being met, Alastor. They’re being met in spades. I love what we have together. Shit, Al, we’re going to have a baby in a few months! I’m so happy that sometimes I honestly don’t know what to do with myself. And I don’t love you despite your feelings towards physical intimacy. Okay?”
Alastor nods, feeling for the second time that day that words are just beyond his ability right now. Lucifer presses a kiss to his temple, then to his lips, before spooning against him once more. His fingers trace wandering paths over the curve of Alastor’s belly, pausing now and then to explore his bellybutton. He continues until Alastor’s tail begins to flick restlessly.
“Alastor?”
Alastor’s cheeks are on fire and his ears are pinned back flat to his head, but he can’t seem to help himself as he guides his lover’s hand between his legs. There is still a little itch left to scratch.
“Can’t get enough today, huh?” Lucifer whispers against his ear, but he isn’t gloating or teasing. Alastor jerks when his fingers brush against the most sensitive parts of him and he whines when Lucifer stops moving.
“How do you want it?”
“Lucifer, you cannot possibly expect me to say —”
“Do you want me to touch your clit?”
“Lucifer!” Alastor hisses with a screech of radio feedback, but his lover is unfazed and the tenderness in his eyes calms Alastor’s embarrassed irritation. He averts his eyes, then closes them.
“No. Not directly, not yet. Just… around it, and… gently. Slowly.”
Lucifer presses a kiss to Alastor’s shoulder. “Good.”
Alastor has half a mind to complain about being coddled and praised, but then Lucifer is moving his fingers again and all he can do is sigh. It feels perfect, and it doesn’t take long before he is coming a second time. Unlike the rush before, Alastor’s shivering release washes over him slowly, like slipping into a hot bath at the end of a long day.
“Damn, you’re so beautiful,” Lucifer sighs, pressing another kiss to his shoulder.
Alastor hums in reply, sedate and on the cusp of sleep. He feels Lucifer settle against him once more, draping his arm protectively over his unborn child. “Get some sleep, sweetheart. I’ll be right here if you need me.”