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A hot press of a familiar mouth and sharp set of teeth between Lucifer's shoulder-blades had him stirring from his sleep, a lazy grin spreading over his face. He rolled onto his stomach, generously granting Alastor access to the pale expanse of unmarked skin on his back, the demon's claws brushing knowingly over the exact places his wings would emerge.
Lucifer squirmed, warmth racing down his spine and curling indulgently over his thighs, stomach tightening as the first pulses of arousal started to pool low in his guts.
“Mm. Good mor-”
Lucifer didn't get to finish his mumbled greeting, one of Alastor's hands moving lightning-quick to press against his mouth. His brows pinching, Lucifer let out an irritated, non-verbal complaint – only for Alastor to lift his head, leaving Lucifer shivering as the saliva on his back quickly cooled.
“Hush, sire. You wouldn't want to wake the others, would you?”
Others? What others? What was Alastor on a-
Oh.
Lucifer's eyes shot open as Alastor's thumb pressed against his tail-bone, sending a cascade of nerves lighting up over his hips; head spinning with the effort it took not to let his tail lash out from its pocket dimension and wrap around the demon's wrist. He was met with the sight of a canvas wall, the embers of their earlier fire lighting it a dim orange.
“You little shit–” Lucifer desperately choked back a gasp, shoving his face into his pillow as Alastor curled his claws over Lucifer's hips and dipped his tongue into the cleft of his ass, right at the top of his cheeks. Heat throbbed over Lucifer's thighs at the filthy promise of it, blood rushing to fill out his cock as one part of his mind begged Alastor to keep going – while the other part cursed his very name.
Of course. Of course Alastor would choose now to indulge himself, when they were a mere two tents away from Lucifer's daughter – only a porn star and a demon with extremely sensitive hearing to separate them.
He should have known it'd been too easy to get Alastor to agree to this camping trip in the first place – Charlie's idea, of course – even going so far as letting the group use his bayou. So long as they kept to the very clearly marked areas, of course. Now Lucifer knew why – Alastor had merely seen this as a new opportunity to torment him.
Lucifer gritted his teeth, his breath coming in short huffs through his nose as he forced himself not to groan aloud at the feeling of that too-long tongue slipping between his cheeks, his cock already achingly hard against the soft floor of their tent. Alastor was doing this on purpose – the low chuckle that reverberated through the tent as Lucifer tilted his hips up, begging him to stop teasing – it said as much.
His stomach flipped as the tip of Alastor's tongue brushed over sensitive nerves, the tightly furled skin that surrounded his hole – fuck, but he wanted Alastor to lap over his entrance, to plunge that tongue into him and have him in a way his creator had never intended, not for a second – but Alastor, shit that he was, pulled his mouth back and exhaled a soft, breathy sound of amusement over saliva coated skin, the sensation sending a flurry of nerves racing over Lucifer's hips as he dug his claws into their mattress and swallowed the whine trying to crawl from his throat.
“Already so needy, sire? But what if somebody hears?” Alastor muttered – and the bastard sounded absolutely delighted at the prospect. At the idea that Lucifer would break, drawing everyone's attention to their tent. Wouldn't that be fun! Looking his daughter in the eye after she'd just heard him moan out Alastor's name the night before, which Lucifer was absolutely certain was the sinner's intent.
Sure – he could put up a silencing ward. Alastor probably expected him to do so; but Lucifer could already imagine the smug glint in the demon's eye once he did, mocking laughter filling the air even as Lucifer fucked him into the ground, breathless chuckles between moans and whimpers – because Alastor wouldn't hold back, not once he'd won.
Well, two could play at that game.
Lucifer went cross-eyed as Alastor ducked back down, hips jerking in the taller man's grasp as a wet tongue ran over his hole, briefly scattering all thoughts of turning the tables from Lucifer's mind – like the marbles Niffty had tossed into their campfire earlier. No matter how many times they did this, it always felt like he was jumping headlong into brand new sins – and without a mote of regret.
His cock throbbed, pressure coiling into a tightly wound spring in his abdomen as nerves burst under his skin, the anticipation almost more intoxicating than the eventual payout would be. God – Lucifer's teeth clenched together so tightly he wouldn't have been surprised to hear something crack, heat racing over his skin as a gold flush crept onto his face.
He could feel a whine budding on the back of his tongue – tickling the back of his throat as warmth fluttered up his spine. Fuck, Alastor's mouth was talented, and Lucifer didn't just mean on the radio – the slight press of sharp teeth against soft flesh did nothing to detract from how fucking good it felt, filthy and indulgent as Alastor's tongue swirled almost lazily over the whorled skin of his hole – but Lucifer wasn't the Sin of Pride for nothing.
He wasn't going to be beaten that easily.
Alastor lifted his head, briefly – and Lucifer struck. He twisted about in Alastor's hands, the sinner's strength no match for his determination – as slippery as a snake, he was, even with his cock throbbing between his legs, a hot glut of pleasure coiled low in his belly and shouting out its disappointment for his decision.
Red eyes widened as Lucifer grabbed a fistful of silk in each hand and shoved, rolling them almost right up against the tent wall until he had Alastor's bony body beneath his, sharp white teeth hovering over Alastor's dangerous slash of yellow, bared in a matching grin. Lucifer's lower lids squeezed up as he shot the other man a challenging glare – and before Alastor could whip out a sarcastic jibe, he swapped his grip on the other man's pyjamas in favour of wrapping his claws around narrow wrists, pressing them down beside Alastor's head even as he lunged forward and crashed their lips together.
A sputter of static answered him, as if Alastor was surprised at his willingness to kiss, knowing where his tongue had just been. Well, Lucifer had put his tongue in worse places, so it wasn't exactly gonna stop him.
Alastor's wrists flexed under his palms, ropy muscle and sinew pressing against his hands as the demon tensed his claws into fists and pushed – and Lucifer felt the shudder that went through Alastor's frame when he couldn't move them an inch, thighs tensing around Lucifer's hips as his mouth fell open and Lucifer flicked his tongue past the barrier of those teeth.
No appreciative hum answered him – neither of them made a sound, but for the harsh breaths filling the air. With the way Lucifer was draped along the sinner, his cock pressed against the seam of Alastor's pyjama pants – it was all too easy to feel the way Alastor's dick stirred, filling out against Lucifer's as his chest curved up, Alastor once again straining in Lucifer's hold.
Static buzzed and crackled, and Lucifer broke their kiss with an audibly wet smack, his grin going lopsided as he caught sight of the slightly dazed look Alastor was wearing – before he blinked, eyes once more narrowing to glowing, crimson slits as kiss-darkened lips stretched over that permanent smile.
Lucifer put on an expression of faux-innocence – eyes wide and his face angelic – as he stretched up to shift Alastor's wrists above his head, gripping the both of them in one hand. He had to shuffle up, of course, Alastor's hips tilting until his ass rested on Lucifer's thighs, and the demon rolled his eyes at the ridiculousness of it all.
Look, it wasn't like it was going to be for long, alright? Lucifer knew he couldn't do much to contain all seven feet of the absolute brat currently pinned beneath his weight, but it wasn't going to put him off dragging a possessive claw down the sharp lines of Alastor's cheekbones – ignoring the flash of warning in the sinner's eyes when his finger ventured a little too close to sharp teeth that had undoubtedly bitten hands off for less.
“You really think you can make me break first? You? Are you forgetting that I taught you everything you know?” Lucifer whispered, lowering his head as he cupped Alastor's throat and pushed his chin up, exposing the long line of his neck as a startled intake of breath met his ears.
He never would've thought a mere inhalation would send a throb of heat rocketing to his stomach, his cock twitching as if it were impatient to be getting on with things.
All in good time, he sent it a mental promise – before realising making promises to his dick, mental or otherwise, might just be a step too far into lunatic territory; even for him. Really, this relationship only had room for one of them to lose his mind at any given time – and Alastor did so love his 'psychotic Radio Demon' shtick. It would be cruel to deprive him of that.
A touch of angelic power had Alastor's pyjamas unravelling against his body, falling to their mattress in long, silken ribbons. Lucifer had expected at least a blat of static in protest – but Alastor only narrowed his eyes further, shooting him a positively furious, filthy glare.
Lucifer did not celebrate Christmas – or even Sinsmas, really – but if opening every present was as satisfying as watching that cloth fall away from Alastor's lean, scarred flesh...
Well, maybe he could see the appeal.
He'd fix Alastor's pyjamas later. What could be unravelled could be re-ravelled, and right now he was too occupied with swiping his forked tongue up over Alastor's throat, flicking the tips of it against that bobbing Adam's apple as the other man froze, his breath catching when sharp teeth pressed against the delicate skin of his jawline.
“I could tie your wrists up. Loop some of this silk around them and decorate you with a pretty little bow,” he whispered against Alastor's neck, feeling the other man shiver as his breath ghosted over damp skin.
Alastor's teeth clenched, the demon swallowing – and Lucifer knew he was putting every effort into staying silent. He smirked, hand drifting down – brushing over the hollow of Alastor's throat, claw tips scraping across the thin skin over his clavicle – until he found the peaked nub of a nipple, smoothing his thumb over it and grinning against Alastor's neck when the other man's breath caught, his chest arching up into that touch even as it rose and fell as quickly as a fleeing deer.
Alastor had started a dangerous game – but then again, he'd always been fond of 'fucking around and finding out'. How else would he have ended up in Lucifer's bed?
Warmth throbbed through Lucifer's guts, his aching cock pressed against the cleft of Alastor's ass. The demon made no protest about the fact he was being unceremoniously folded in half like some kind of eldritch lawn chair, and a heady pulse of desire had Lucifer gritting his own teeth, the reminder of Alastor's flexibility almost proving to be his undoing. He swallowed, letting his tail snake out from its pocket dimension, waving lazily in the air above his back.
It wasn't much – but letting it free relieved a small fraction of the pressure building low in his abdomen, and though a faint flush tickled up the back of his neck, old shame and self-loathing for the appendage trying to make an appearance – Alastor sucked in a breath when Lucifer skimmed the spade of it over the demon's middle, a shudder running down his frame and his cock twitching against his belly.
Alastor liked it – so it couldn't be as ugly as Lucifer had always thought.
The canvas wall of their tent felt like a terribly flimsy barrier to be doing this behind. He could only hope everyone else was fast asleep – or weren't inclined to wander their way for any reason.
Imagine, somebody getting up to answer nature's call in the middle of the night – how much would they be able to see? Would the glowing embers of the fire outside frame their silhouettes, a shadow-play of depravity? Or would the light from their own eyes give them away, red and yellow lamps shining from within their tent?
He knew it shouldn't – but the idea of somebody (not Charlie, anyone but her, of course) getting a glimpse – knowing that he was fucking Alastor, right here – it sent a flurry of nerves skittering down his spine, a hazy film settling over his mind until it felt like it was buzzing as loudly as Alastor's static.
Lucifer abandoned his hold on Alastor's thin wrists, half expecting the sinner to seize him and roll them over again, snarling face pressing into his in a way that would be so similar – but oh, so different – to the way he'd done when they'd first met. He was pleasantly surprised when Alastor's arms merely relaxed a little, the demon leaving them stretched above his head as if he wanted nothing more than for Lucifer to look at him – to lift his head and admire the long, lean lines of Alastor's body, sharp edges and soft hollows painting an altogether fascinating picture.
Static skipped – but Lucifer still wasn't going to count that as a victory – when he skimmed his claws over the protruding lines of Alastor's ribs. A twisted sort of xylophone, and he flicked his tongue out over his lips at the way Alastor's skin twitched under the touch. Heat prickled along the back of his neck and over his cheeks, purple lids falling low when he glanced up at Alastor's face to see the other man watching him with barely open eyes, a thin trickle of blood running over his chin where he'd bitten into his own lip.
Fuck – Alastor wasn't nearly so unruffled as he pretended, and Lucifer adored being the one to not only see – but make him – come undone. The ever in control Radio Demon, losing the very thing that was so important to his image – and all for Lucifer alone. He lowered his head, flicking the forked tips of his tongue over Alastor's nipples – first one, then the other, wrapping his hands around the other man's narrow waist and digging his claws in just hard enough to tease the possibility of breaking the skin.
He was almost disappointed not to get a low moan or whine in response – not even a whimper – it seemed like Alastor really was determined to win this little challenge he'd laid down. Lucifer should've known.
That was fine. Lucifer knew what turned Alastor's dials, and he was more than willing to play a little unfair.
He nipped at Alastor's side, sliding down his body and shuffling back on the mattress until Alastor's ass slid off his thighs, spine cracking as it settled back into what passed as normal for him. The sound might once have put Lucifer off – but it had become so familiar to him by now that it barely even registered. He sat back on his haunches, glancing up at Alastor's flushed face – only to be met with one critically raised eyebrow, the demon lazily rolling his hips as if to say 'well? Get on with it, then.'
Cocky shit. Undoubtedly, Alastor figured Lucifer was going straight to indulging in one of his favourite pastimes – that of burying his cock in the egotistical demon below him – but if he wanted to make Alastor crack, that wasn't the way to go about it. He'd never met somebody so able to maintain a poker face whilst getting railed until their eyes watered, but Alastor wasn't like anybody he'd ever met before.
As much as he wanted to get some relief for the insistent throb between his legs, Lucifer wanted to turn the tables on Alastor more. He shoved his hands under Alastor's thighs, tipping his hips up all over again as he ducked down and flicked the tips of his tongue over Alastor's hole, quicker than you could say 'wap bam boom'.
Every muscle in Alastor's body tensed, thighs quivering in Lucifer's grip – and he grinned to himself, one eye squinted shut against the press of soft fuzz. Not the most ideal angle to be eating ass from, but Lucifer wasn't gonna complain about the slight weight of Alastor's balls against his face. Not when he had two handfuls of trembling Radio Demon in his grasp, the sinner twitching with a hiss of static when Lucifer dragged his tongue over that puckered skin, lazily tracing ever-tightening circles around Alastor's entrance.
He could hear the strangled, choked off sounds of feedback and static – could see from the corner of his eye when Alastor's hands slammed down to his sides, claws shredding through their mattress as the pressure in the air increased, heavy with an untuned electrical buzz. A piece of wood from the fire outside popped loudly in the night, and Lucifer heard the sound of a zipper being opened.
Alastor's sharp intake of breath said he'd heard it, too – and Lucifer plunged his tongue into the other man, breaching that tight ring of muscle and stroking along his inner walls. Alastor's back arched even further, hips driving down against Lucifer's face, and he was going to put up the silencing wards, he was – as soon as Alastor caved and let Lucifer hear the delicious whines and moans he was holding back–
A terrifyingly loud rip echoed through the night, silencing the quiet chirping of insects from outside, and the two of them froze. Lucifer, with his tongue buried inches deep in the sinfully tight heat of Alastor's hole – and Alastor, shoulders pressed to the ground and claws digging into the mattress, chest arched obscenely high and his head tossed back.
Lucifer couldn't see what had happened. If he opened his eyes, all that filled his vision was the sight of Alastor's balls, drawn up tight against his body. He could guess, though – he'd had Alastor tear through enough sheets and pillows by now that he could certainly make an educated hypothesis about what had just gone down (other than Lucifer, that was).
Those two twiggy little antlers on Alastor's head must have branched out, new tines popping from them like barbed wire. It wouldn't have taken much for them to rip through the wall of the tent – and Lucifer was even more positive that was exactly what had happened when a whiff of cool, marshy air filled his nostrils – fighting past the scent of sweat and arousal that was otherwise all he could smell, Alastor's natural musk almost making him dizzy with how intoxicating it was.
The ground outside was soft, covered with moss and rotting foliage – but the sound of footsteps making their way towards the tent was unmistakable, the squishy press of bare feet into boggy ground. Lucifer's heart thumped in his throat, and he really felt like he should retract his tongue – but the moment he moved it, Alastor's thighs tried to press down and clamp against his head, like he wanted to pop Lucifer's skull like a rotten melon.
“Someone up?”
Lucifer exhaled a slow, relieved breath through his nose, and felt Alastor clench down around his tongue when his breath tickled the fur of the demon's balls. It was only Husk, probably the best one of the bunch to be found by, even though Lucifer didn't particularly want to be found by anyone. Green light pressed against Lucifer's lids, and he slitted one open again to see a few ancient sigils floating at the edges of his vision.
“Only me! I thought I might partake in a little late night hunting, Husker. Are you interested in a friendly game of cat and mouse? I'm afraid you might not enjoy the role you're given.” Alastor's voice trilled into the night, his words coated with a heavy echo of feedback. Projecting his voice without using his mouth, plucking the words straight from the airwaves so he didn't have to release the tight hold he had on his throat – and the moans probably trying to claw their way from his chest.
A disparaging noise answered Alastor's mocking question, those footsteps retreating far more quickly then they'd wandered over. The orange glow of the fire in the centre of their camp burned brighter, sparks drifting into the air and tracing hazy lines against the canvas as Husk added another log to it – before a grunt and the slide of a zipper indicated they were safe.
Grinning against Alastor's cheeks, Lucifer flicked his tongue and struck the sensitive nerves of Alastor's inner walls, a line of saliva trickling from the corner of his mouth and down his chin as he felt the taller man jolt, his muscles tense enough to snap even as his harsh breathing filled the small space of their tent.
Come on, Alastor. I can feel you trembling. I know you want to moan for me, gorgeous. Just let it happen.
If willing things into existence by thinking very hard about them was a skill anybody had, Lucifer could say he was usually the number one offender. But it seemed no matter how demanding his thoughts, Alastor was determined to keep his teeth pressed into his lip, his throat clamped tight against making a sound. Lucifer probed deeper, impatient now, willing to play more than a little dirty if it meant he could bask in the sweet glow of victory and finally bury his cock in the absolute brat of a man he had folded before him. His tail wound around Alastor's calf, and Lucifer rolled his tongue inside the sinner, seeking out his guaranteed ticket to victory.
Before he got a chance to press his tongue against Alastor's prostate, he felt the demon shift – the tense thigh gripped in one hand and the twitching abdomen clasped under the other slipping through his claws as Alastor melted. And not in the fun way, the 'turning into putty under Lucifer's touch' kind of way.
That was unfair! Lucifer was the only one who got to bend the rules like that!
What's wrong? Tapping out? That still co–
Lucifer's eyes blew wide, and he almost choked on his own spit as the swirling shadows didn't flee the scene of their sin – merely re-materialised in the form of Alastor's mouth wrapping around Lucifer's cock, the demon sprawled out on his belly as Lucifer collapsed back onto his haunches. He had to stifle a groan, hands fluttering over Alastor's skull for a moment before he buried his fingers in soft red hair, the deliciously hot, wet press of the back of Alastor's throat against the head of his cock so intense that stars burst behind his suddenly shut lids.
He felt like he'd just had the wind knocked out of him – like Alastor wasn't merely sucking his cheeks in and fastening his lips around Lucifer's shaft, but that he was sucking the very oxygen from Lucifer's blood straight through his dick. His head span, lids fluttering as pleasure throbbed at the base of his spine, the dangerous precipice of orgasm beckoning him closer.
A wordless noise clogged in his throat, the urge to mutter the demon's name as he lapped his tongue over the underside of Lucifer's cock almost strong enough to make him forget they needed to be quiet. But – fuck, it was hard. And that wasn't a pun, although of course it'd be plenty accurate as well – keeping quiet while Alastor pulled himself forward, languidly swallowing around Lucifer's cock as the soft cushion of his tongue guided it down his throat – it was torture.
Pure, exquisite, mind-numbing torture, and Alastor fucking knew it, crimson eyes glinting with a smug gleam when Lucifer managed to look down.
He shouldn't have looked – shouldn't have filled his mind with the sight of Alastor's thin lips, barely quirked up into his signature smile as they glistened around his cock – the red flush on his cheeks, his ears sitting low on his head as Lucifer's claws trembled in his hair.
It was almost enough to undo him. Alastor wasn't even fucking moving – was just squeezing Lucifer's dick with the muscles of his throat, swallowing every so often as he circled the tip of his tongue over those sensitive veins along the underside. His upturned nose was almost pressed into Lucifer's soft golden curls, and a thin trickle of blood stained his cheek from where he'd bitten into his lip.
The perky tuft of fur at the base of Alastor's tailbone was waving lazily back and forth – and Lucifer cast his eyes to the ceiling of their tent, mentally trying to cool the burning under his skin when Alastor pressed his elbows to the mattress and lifted his hands to curl sharp red claws around Lucifer's waist. The claws on his thumbs dipped down, dragging over Lucifer's hipbones – and nerves prickled under his skin when Alastor stroked over the crease at the edge of his groin, his stomach coiled into knots as he resisted the urge to lift himself on his knees and start fucking into Alastor's mouth in earnest.
Static hissed softly in the air, the corners of Lucifer's eyes watering as Alastor slowly drew his head back, sharp teeth grazing Lucifer's dick for just a moment before he curled his lip under them. That sharp spike of discomfort, a lightning shock of danger amidst the pleasure pooling at the base of Lucifer's dick as Alastor lapped over his slit – it had him panting, fingers clenching tighter in Alastor's hair.
That tug on crimson locks would usually provoke a staticky hum of appreciation – a whine, at the very least. Alastor liked having his hair pulled. But he was so fucking stubborn, his throat clenching around the head of Lucifer's dick once again as he slid forward, the slowest blowjob in history.
Lucifer wasn't sure how much longer he could stand it. The aching heat pulsing under his skin, the burning need to tip over the edge – it was going to ruin him. A whimper built low in his throat, and it was only through holding onto the finest threads of his control that it didn't manage to make it past his tightly gritted teeth, stuttered puffs of air all that were escaping him.
Blinking away the haze that had settled over his vision as Alastor dragged his mouth back – again, with that same agonising slowness – Lucifer caught sight of the faint movement of the demon's own hips, moving slightly against the mattress he was stretched out along, and – oh, fuck.
Alastor fucking loved this. This challenge, this game – the idea of dragging a humiliating sound of pleasure from Lucifer where others might hear, and he'd be crowing about it for weeks. Sadistic asshole that he was – of course Alastor was having the time of his life.
Still – he wasn't the only one who could teleport.
Lucifer sucked in a muggy breath, the air in their tent getting ridiculously warm, even with the rip in the side of it letting in a slightly cooler breeze – and gripped Alastor's hair tight, shoving his mouth down to the very base of Lucifer's cock, barely stopping himself from losing it when he felt the sinner's throat tense with surprise at the sudden rough handling.
Hey, it wasn't as if he was about to gag – they'd figured out long ago that wasn't a risk they had to worry about, even if those crimson eyes did glint with irritation, the corners of them glistening with unshed tears that made something ugly and possessive glow with pride in Lucifer's chest. He flashed the other man a grin – and popped out of existence with a faint red shimmer, leaving Alastor to catch himself before he face-planted into the mattress when he overbalanced.
His static hiss was pure indignation, now. Lucifer landed with his legs straddling one of Alastor's slim thighs, reaching out to press a hand between the other man's shoulder-blades before he had a chance to push himself up – or to try and buck his hips, dislodging Lucifer as if he were some kind of overconfident cowboy trying to tame the most stubborn equine in the world.
No. His job was far fucking harder: Taming the most stubborn cervine demon he'd ever met.
Lucifer wasn't wasting time. Not anymore. The tight glut of pleasure sitting low in his guts wouldn't let him, constant flickers of arousal racing under his skin and urging him to fuck Alastor until he shouted, a desperate, filter-rich cry breaking into the still night air.
And that gleefully waving tuft of crimson fur sitting above the sparse curves of his ass was a perfect place to start. Not to start fucking – although, that was something Lucifer had never tried but now thought he might like to – but to grab, a greedy hand wrapping around the base of it, thumb burrowing under plush fur until he found velvet-soft skin beneath. A clatter of feedback was quickly smothered, Alastor ramming his face back down into the mattress as his claws tore clean through it, dense foam stuffing spilling around his hands.
The thigh trapped between Lucifer's trembled, muscles quivering as Alastor's hips jerked. Those adorably expressive ears were pressed low to his skull, and Lucifer wished he could see the other man's face. He knew it would be stained almost as red as his hair, his familiar smile crooked as Lucifer dragged his hand over that delightfully sensitive tail.
Honestly, if he didn't already know where he stood in the eyes of those above, he would've been convinced somebody up there liked him. Enough to present him with such a straightforward way to turn the normally stiff and reserved demon under his hands into butter. A trembling mess under Lucifer's touch.
A grin split his face, knowing he wasn't exactly playing fair – but Alastor had never set any rules for this impromptu game he'd started, and sometimes it was better to ask forgiveness than permission. Lucifer shifted, forcing Alastor's legs further apart with his knee so he could press his hand to one of the demon's cheeks – squeezing the sparse flesh, biting his lip at the sight of that puckered hole. Still beautifully slick with Lucifer's spit, twitching under his scrutiny as Alastor's static took on an unhappy whine.
“Relax. I'm not looking for long,” Lucifer whispered, waving his hand and coating his fingers with lube. A use that surely nobody had intended Angelic power to have, but one that he took advantage of every chance he got. Why Alastor took such issue with Lucifer looking, when he'd quite happily accept Lucifer's fingers – or his tongue, or his cock – fucking into him, Lucifer would never understand.
He kept a firm grip on Alastor's tail, even as he could feel it trying to press down. To lay flat over the cleft of the demon's ass, giving him at least the illusion of modesty. It was a bit late for that, now, but the fact Alastor still had some self-consciousness left in him was nothing short of tantalising, a delicious little contradiction that only made Lucifer's cock throb as a fresh wave of desire rocked through him.
Lucifer slipped one finger between those cheeks, circling that furled skin as he rubbed absently at Alastor's tail still clutched in his other hand. The way Alastor's hips canted, knees pressing against the ground as he shifted just a fraction closer – it sent satisfaction thudding through Lucifer's chest, possessiveness welling alongside the greed and lust he held motes of alongside his famed pride.
Impatience clawed at his mind – and he forced himself to gentleness, breaching that tight, hot ring of muscle in one firm push, sliding his finger in up to the knuckle and waiting for the whimper that always bubbled from Alastor's throat at the intrusion.
It didn't come.
God, he really was a stubborn fucking thing, and Lucifer snapped his gaze up to the other man's head, expecting to see him with his face half buried in the ground beneath their tent. Burrowing into it like an ostrich, preferring to smother himself in the soft, swampy soil underfoot than let Lucifer win this little contest of wills.
He was not prepared for the sight of Alastor peering over his shoulder, a wad of their blankets stuffed between his sharp teeth. His eyes shone with a haze of pleasure, crimson lids sitting low over those gleaming red eyes. Smug as he'd ever been, the spark of challenge still dancing on his face – even with Lucifer knuckle deep in his ass, rubbing the pad of his finger over the pulsing heat of his inner walls.
Unfair. Using a gag wasn't in their undisclosed rules, and Lucifer gave a sharp jerk on Alastor's tail to demonstrate how annoyed he was by it. It only served to make him suffer, seeing Alastor's lids flutter closed as his eyes rolled back, his head sinking back down to rest his cheek on their mattress as he tilted his hips even more.
He was practically making an invitation of himself, so gorgeously pliant, and Lucifer didn't stop to wonder whether he might still be scheming away behind that glaze of pleasure as he pressed another finger into the demon, gently working them in and out of Alastor's sinfully tight hole for a few strokes – before adding his third finger.
Another tug on that tail had Alastor clenching around him, static skipping and sputtering as sweat beaded on the back of Lucifer's neck, his cock leaking a fragile string of pre-come onto the back of Alastor's thigh. His guts tightened at the thought of burying himself in the heat currently pressing against his fingers, his breath coming in short, desperate puffs.
Alastor had to be ready for him, now. Lucifer withdrew his fingers, mouth watering at the sight of Alastor's rim, pink and stretched and so goddamn fuckable, and he scrambled to put himself between those thighs. He abandoned his grip on Alastor's tail in favour of curling his claws over the other man's hips, lining himself up.
The moment the head of his cock bumped against Alastor's ass – not even making it to his hole – a staticky huff of a chuckle shot an icy spear through the centre of his arousal. He should have known Alastor would never make things that easy.
Watching the sharp, lean lines of Alastor's body vanish into shadows almost sent him to tears, frustration nearly enough to drive him to a shout where all of Alastor's teasing had failed. He was just about ready to snap himself back to his rooms in the hotel, to relieve the throbbing ache driving him to insanity himself – when a pair of hands on his shoulders twisted him around, pushing him down to his back as Alastor climbed over his lap.
The man looked practically feral – a thick line of blood and drool staining one side of his chin, lips swollen and still marred with healing bite marks. His eyes hadn't quite flicked over to their terrifying inky blackness, radio dials in place of pupils – but they'd certainly darkened, the colour closer to the red of dried blood than the glowing crimson Lucifer was so accustomed to. His antlers were branching from his skull, in danger of tearing even more of their tent to pieces as they brushed against the canvas roof.
Lucifer's eyes were pulled to the sight of Alastor's erection, bobbing against his belly. As hard and flushed as Lucifer was, leaking at the tip – just more proof as to how much Alastor had enjoyed this little power play, because his own arousal wasn't always something he seemed to give a damn about.
But it was something Lucifer gave a damn about, forked tongue flicking over his lips as his hands found Alastor's bony hips and tried to pull him forward, ready to glut himself on the taste of the demon – ready to feel that cock in his throat, forgetting for a moment his own aching desire. Made too stupid by sex, as Alastor would say, and Lucifer wouldn't argue the accusation.
He wasn't sure he had enough blood left in his brain to even try.
Alastor did not let himself be drawn upwards – he impatiently pushed at Lucifer's hands, lifting himself on his knees and resting one hand on the ground behind his back. Grinning at Lucifer as he reached down and wrapped long fingers around Lucifer's cock, his cheeks flushed and his lashes brushing over the red stain of them as he closed his eyes, lowering himself until Lucifer felt the head of his cock nudge against Alastor's hole.
Lucifer jerked his gaze desperately to the side, making a grab for the wad of blankets Alastor had abandoned – but a whip-thin piece of shadow flew out and snatched them from his grasp. He had nothing to bite into but his own lip, more shadows coiling out and trapping his hands against the mattress. He choked back the moan struggling up his throat when Alastor pushed down, just enough that the tip of Lucifer's cock slipped into the demon.
And then he stopped.
Leaning back on one hand, the long planes of his body glistening with sweat, Alastor kept his other hand wrapped firmly around all but the head of Lucifer's dick, his entrance squeezing and pulsing as if trying to draw him in further. It was Hell.
Absolutely depraved, Lucifer's disbelief at war with the desperate coil of his climax, every beat of his heart sending a throb echoing up his cock. His hips rocked upwards, but he only succeeded at bumping Alastor's hand against the other man's ass, barely getting even a few millimetres further into him. His tail thrashed ineffectually against the blankets before coiling around Alastor's leg in some kind of desperate plea.
He couldn't stand it. He needed to be deeper, to feel Alastor clench around him as he ground up into the sinner. The throb of his cock was downright painful, frustrated tears pearling at the corners of his eyes as he silently begged Alastor to let go. To ride him properly, and he knew Alastor wanted that, too. Could tell from the way his smile trembled and his ears quivered against his skull, his eyes so dark they were almost black.
Unbidden, a helpless whimper crept from his throat. A wordless plea, all consequences of losing control like that forgotten for the barest fraction of a second – all the time it took to have Alastor's eyes flashing with the smug glint of victory.
Lucifer had lost whatever fucked up game Alastor had started, but he didn't even have the wherewithal to be annoyed by it. It was done, the challenge was over – and as Alastor opened his mouth to offer some biting jab, some mocking comment – Lucifer tore his hands free of the shadows gripping them as if they were no more substantial than spiderwebs, throwing a silencing ward around their tent as he dug his claws into Alastor's hips. A rope of Angelic power wrapped around Alastor's hand, dragging it off Lucifer's cock and trapping it at the small of his back.
A screech of feedback filled the air, Alastor's eyes flicking all the way to dials as Lucifer yanked him down, burying his cock to the base in the tightly spiralling clench of the infuriating man above him. A low, desperate moan broke from between his own lips. Every teasing touch, every taunting brush of a tongue and smug seal of lips had finally reached a crescendo, Alastor forced to let Lucifer lift him and drop him, over and over again.
He could do little else, one arm pinned above his tail and the other buried in the mattress somewhere in the vicinity of Lucifer's knees, and he was beautiful like this – every inch of him wracked with tremors, his brows creasing his forehead and his ears bouncing against his skull as Lucifer jerked his hips up to meet him. So gorgeous when he was getting fucked, the heavy slap of skin on skin a filthy percussive note to the whines and whimpers trapped within the bubble of silence Lucifer had created.
Alastor's head tipped back, a sharp bleat mixed with his breathless pants – even as a crackly laugh joined the cacophony. Lucifer ground his pelvis up, clutching Alastor's hips so tight his claws pierced that thin skin, blood trickling down over his fingers. And Alastor moaned, long and low, the harsh skip of a record scratch swiftly turning into a high pitched whine.
“You absolute psy- psychopath,” Lucifer gritted out, pressure coiling around the base of his dick as Alastor clamped down around him. Crimson hair swayed as Alastor nodded, and Lucifer would never know if the “yes!” that Alastor blurted in response was in relation to his accusation – or an encouragement, the demon begging him to fuck him harder, faster – deeper, until Lucifer whimpered, his pleasure seizing him by the throat and ripping through him.
His shoulders pressed into the mattress as his back arched, spurting his climax into that mind-numbingly tight heat. Lucifer released one hand from Alastor's hips – only to bring it down with a sharp crack on the demon's ass, wrenching a startled squeak from the other man – seconds before he tensed, his neck displaying more bends than Lucifer thought necessary with how far Alastor tipped his head back, clenching rhythmically around Lucifer's spent dick.
Long strands of come fell over Lucifer's chest, his cock giving a weak pulse in response. The feeling was enough to have his stomach jolting, like he'd missed his step going down a flight of stairs – the heady salt-tang of Alastor's climax making his head spin.
Fuck.
Okay – maybe it hadn't just been Alastor who'd enjoyed that little game. Lucifer was still twitching with the aftershocks of his orgasm, sagging back to the mattress as he released the power holding Alastor's arm at his back – only to promptly jerk upright with a yelp, grabbing Alastor by the thin rails of his biceps and tugging him forward as the sinner very nearly toppled backwards, straight through the wall of their tent.
His dick slipped from the other man, come spilling onto his own legs as he pulled Alastor onto his chest – shuffling up as much as he could, wincing when the stickiness on his torso spread over Alastor's skin. They were both of them a complete mess, smelling of sweat and sex and a little bit of blood, because they couldn't just fuck like two normal people, could they?
“You okay?” Lucifer muttered against one soft ear, peppering kisses over the fluff of it. Now that their fierce competition was done, he was filled with a honey-warm affection, unable to resist wrapping his arms around Alastor's shoulders and nuzzling into his damp crimson hair.
When Alastor responded, his filter was barely crackling over his words. Lucifer smiled softly to himself at hearing the other man's slightly higher, natural voice.
“You fucked me senseless.”
There was a note of accusation in the words, as if Alastor was affronted that Lucifer had the audacity to do such a thing. Lucifer huffed, ruffling the hair pressed against his face. Far from feeling ashamed or chagrined, a self-satisfied grin spread over his features.
“Damn. And here I thought I might have finally fucked some sense into you.”
A blurt of static answered him, and Alastor lifted his head to fix him with an unimpressed, narrow-eyed glare. Lucifer only grinned back at him, darting forward to drop a kiss on the tip of that pert little nose when Alastor wrinkled it with distaste. Another adorable squeak was his reward, and though Lucifer had technically lost the game Alastor had started – he'd give himself a victory point for that.
Maybe a few more for the whole 'fucked senseless' comment.
“Clean us up,” Alastor demanded, as haughty as if he hadn't been the one to make at least half of this mess. Maybe all of it – Lucifer had been sleeping quite happily before he'd woken up to the feeling of having a tongue pressed against his ass.
Yeah.
This really was all Alastor's fault.
Still, Lucifer didn't particularly feel like sleeping in the aftermath of their sex, so he snapped his fingers to banish the sticky mess coating their chests and thighs. Alastor's ear flicked as the sweat vanished from his head, antlers shrinking back to a far more manageable size – particularly for such a small space. He sat back on Lucifer's thighs, flexing his neck and shoulders with a snap, crackle and pop that would make breakfast companies jealous, casting an eye over the tear in the mattress and the canvas wall of their tent.
With a wave of his hand, an ethereal green needle and thread popped into existence, quickly mending the rents in the fabric. Lucifer lifted a brow, quietly appreciating the fact that Alastor was still sitting – naked – over his lap.
“Neat trick,” Lucifer commented, not bothering to keep his voice down. The silencing ward was still up around their tent, after all. Alastor hummed a disinterested sound in response, delicately picking up one of the ribbons that had formerly been known as his pyjamas, giving Lucifer an expectant stare.
Lucifer sighed. The show was over, then.
He raked his gaze over Alastor's bony form one last time, eyes lingering on his now soft cock sitting quiescent against the crimson fur that passed for his pubic hair – and got a cough of static for his troubles. He flicked his gaze back up to Alastor's face, choosing not to comment on the fresh spots of red that were decorating his sharp cheekbones.
With another snap of his fingers, the silken ribbons of Alastor's pyjamas curled around the demon's body, stitching themselves together as if they'd never been torn apart in the first place. After a moment's thought, Lucifer waved his hand and poofed himself into a pair of soft cotton pants.
Just in case Alastor decided he wanted to go for a second round.
Not that he would have been opposed – but a little bit more warning would have been nice, you know?
“We have to go fishing, tomorrow,” Alastor said with disapproval, pressing a palm against Lucifer's chest until he obligingly lay back.
His side was immediately warmed by the hot press of Alastor's body slotting against him, long leg draped over his as the demon settled on his chest. Spindly antlers hovered inches from Lucifer's face, and it was no wonder Alastor had never spoken of a previous bed partner – most people wouldn't want to risk getting their eyes gouged out every night.
“Mm. What are we catching?” Lucifer mumbled, knowing already that the idea was Charlie's rather than Alastor's. He curled an arm around the other man's shoulders, toying with one drooping ear.
Already, the static hum that accompanied Alastor wherever he went was settling into a dull buzz.
“Don't have any fish in here,” Alastor answered quietly, his voice thick with the unmistakable slur of the fucked out. Now that he was lying down and comfortable, it seemed sleep wasn't far off.
As the crackling, golden light of the fire outside dimly lit the inside of their tent, adding orange highlights to Alastor's hair, Lucifer thought he wouldn't be far behind.
“Have gators, though,” Alastor added in a barely audible mutter. It took a few seconds for Lucifer to parse the statement – and his eyes shot open when he did.
“Gators? What do you mean, gators?” he hissed, his mind filled with images of one of those beasts dragging somebody under the water. Niffty wouldn't even make a splash.
No answer was forthcoming. Alastor, infuriating as always – had apparently fallen straight to sleep. Lucifer sighed, idly stroking through his hair until his hand went slack, listening to the sounds of wood popping and cicadas chirping in the night.
He was fast asleep, Alastor a comforting weight against his chest – and so he didn't hear the muffled squeal and pitchy giggle from a few tents over as his bubble of silence faded away.
“Vaggie! Shh!”
Alastor cracked open one eye, his smile twitching into a smirk – and threw up his own ward to shroud their tent in silence.
~fin~