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The buck is presented to him, a tall, dark thing forced onto his knees, legs splayed to present his oiled cock standing firmly at attention. His balls pool on the carpet, and Lucifer wonders, absentmindedly, if the skin there will feel like the velvet on the deer’s antlers.
Lucifer lets his gaze trail upwards and his eyes linger on the gold painted across the deer’s chest. It’s a design meant to lure one’s attention to the sinner’s nipples, where pearlescent white clamps hang heavy.
It’s not quite what he envisioned, but he didn’t know what to expect either. He always thought that it’d be a lot less ceremonial, a lot less… intimate. The Overlord of Cannibal Town has done well, however. He was right to have chosen her for the task.
Once Lucifer becomes the buck’s master, there would be no more of this false pretence.
The first time he’d laid eyes on this deer, trapped under the thumb of another Overlord, the demon had been a wild, rabid thing that would tear apart anyone he got his hands on. Hence, he always ended up chained in the stables with the other sinners who misbehaved and were forced to repent.
But even kneeling among the filth, caked in straw and mud, Lucifer remembers the way the sinner had fearlessly met his gaze head-on with a fire in his radiant red eyes that ignited a flame in Lucifer’s core—a flame that he hadn’t felt in over ten thousand years. Where he was once lost to the inferno of Lilith’s sirensong, he felt a steady blaze when he saw the demon and all he longed to be was lost like a candle lit at noon.
And so, selfishly, Lucifer sought Rosie’s help to make it seem like getting the buck into the Morningstar household was her idea.
Even if these feelings weren’t mutual, even if the deer hated it here, he wouldn’t be treated like trash at least.
“They’ve prettied you up well,” Lucifer chuckles softly, getting up from his throne and making his way to the front of the demon. Bending over, he brushes the buck’s hair away with a finger and stifles a smile when the sinner shivers.
As Lucifer leans in closer, he drops his hand and presses a claw to the underside of the buck’s chin to inspect his face as if it hasn’t already been seared into his brain all those years ago. He stops himself from getting ahead of himself and yanking off the blindfold, if only to spare the deer from their audience’s already questioning gaze and loose lips.
He takes time in removing the blindfold, his touch far more reverent than he knows it should be, and is rewarded with the sharp inhale of air from the buck. When the blindfold finally falls away, there’s that same fire burning ever so brightly in the demon’s red eyes, and Lucifer can’t hide the smile that graces his own face.
All that’s left for them to do now is to transfer the ownership by kissing the deer and sealing the deal.
“May I?” Lucifer asks, soft enough that only the sinner hears him.
The smiling buck eyes him warily, lips twitching further upwards against the gag as if he’s trying to speak. A muffled sound comes out instead and he clenches down on the leather bit in frustration, but he eventually nods.
Humming approvingly, Lucifer clasps the demon on the chin and kisses him on his gagged mouth. When the sinner responds with a muted moan, Lucifer hums again, nipping the deer on his upper lip, then his bottom, and unfurls his tongue to lick past the leather gag and into the buck’s mouth.
There’s a soft glow between the two of them, the maroon light slowly eclipsing to gold. Just like that, the buck now belongs to him, safe and free to roam the palace.
But Lucifer isn’t done. As he continues kissing the deer, he unbuckles the gag, choosing not to heed every warning that he has ever received from his guards about the demon and his razor sharp teeth. When the gag drops to the floor in a dull thud, the sinner starts to kiss him back in earnest, as if he’s been just as starved of this as Lucifer currently feels.
With an audience, it’s a little more than necessary, Lucifer knows. But he can’t help himself when the buck is making such delicious noises in response, even if a little over the top.
A delighted chuckle spills from Rosie, and she presses her fingertips to her lips demurely when both Lucifer and the slave turn to glare at her. Unfazed, her smile stays wide on her face, and she asks, “Do you approve of Alastor, Your Majesty?”
So that’s his name. After all these years of desperately wanting to have a name to form his lips around, after all these years of being forced to show disinterest, he finally, finally knows at last.
He tries not to let it show on his face. Instead, Lucifer’s gaze cuts to her, and he pulls away just enough to give her a self-indulgent smile. “A lovely name. It suits you,” he muses, addressing the sinner, who only dips his head in acknowledgement rather than speak.
Standing to his full height, Lucifer folds his arms behind himself, digging his thumb into his skin to ground himself. To play his role a little longer. “Thank you, Rosie,” he says. “He’ll do.”
“Only the best for the King of Hell,” is all she says, and even though she only means it playfully, Lucifer can still hear the undertone of ‘now that you’ve decided to take a pet’ behind her sweet words.
He has to swallow the lump in his throat to stop himself from spitting how much he abhors this agreement in front of the other guards, how much he didn’t want for the Overlords to trade their people-turned-slaves between the Rings of Hell just to ensure that there wouldn’t be a civil war. The start of this had been all because of that hateful bitch—his ex-wife—and he’s been working so hard to reverse it.
After a minute passes by without Lucifer saying anything, Rosie clears her throat politely. “Will that be all, Your Majesty?”
Realising that he’s been staring blankly at Alastor, Lucifer blinks and looks up. “Right,” he says. “Yes, how about I accompany you on your way out? I’d like to—” he pauses, considering what words would be appropriate to leave the guards behind “—retire to my room to enjoy this big boy.”
“Aw, ever the gentleman,” Rosie says, turning to her side as she readies to leave. “I’ll take you up on that.”
Lucifer stands to his full height, disregarding the curious looks that he receives from around the room. “Come with me,” he instructs, and when Alastor bends forward to follow after him on fours, like the other slaves are wont to do, Lucifer sighs wearily. “Please get up.”
Pushing himself up to his feet, Alastor wobbles, his legs weak from being forced to sit in the same awkward position for so long. In a too-telling manner, Lucifer is quick to place a stabilising hand on the small of Alastor’s back. He keeps his hand there— a gesture that would now appear possessive, if nothing else at least—and leads them to Rosie and then out the door.
When they’re about to part ways, Rosie pauses in consideration as her pitless eyes scan over Alastor and Lucifer. Eventually, she only lets out an exasperated huff, like she’s thought better than to say what’s on her mind. “Take care, Your Majesty. Alastor.” She bows to Lucifer and leaves without another word.
The door to Lucifer’s room is barely shut before Alastor is on him, pressing bruising kisses onto his lips. Before Lucifer can stop himself, he sighs into them and goes pliant, allowing Alastor to lift him by the thighs. They’re on the bed an instant, and Alastor traces a biting path down Lucifer’s neck—he likes biting, of course he does—while he busies his hands with removing the clamps on himself and undressing Lucifer, the layers coming apart in a frantic scramble.
And it’s all too fast.
“W-wait.” Lucifer’s voice sounds hoarse to his own ears, and Alastor pulls back, glancing up at him with an amused twitch of his lips. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Don’t I?” Alastor asks, his voice rough around the edges. “But you’ve wanted this for a long time, haven’t you? I saw the way you looked at me, that day at the stables. Isn’t that why I’m here? Because you thought to yourself how you wish you could own me? Didn’t you wish you could—”
Gritting his teeth, Lucifer grabs Alastor by the shoulders and hisses, “It’s not like that. It’s not.”
“Tell me then,” Alastor purrs.
It takes Lucifer a moment to realise that Alastor has hooked his thumb into his underwear, but when he does, his hips raise subconsciously, allowing Alastor to pull the boxers—and his trousers—off properly.
“Damn it,” Lucifer swears, grabbing Alastor by the wrist. His gaze slides down between them, where his own dick is twitching with interest against his belly. Alastor’s is hanging down so closely too, and if Lucifer just lifts his hips again, he will be able to—
“Use your words, Your Majesty.”
The way Alastor commands him has no right to affect Lucifer the way it does, and yet, there’s pre-cum pearling on his tip. A sight that Alastor apparently catches because the damned buck is parting his lips and swiping his tongue over his sharp teeth.
“You want this,” Lucifer gasps with realisation. He glances up, straight into Alastor’s hazy eyes that look so far away, so ravenous. “You actually want this.”
It must have been the right thing to say because a guttural moan escapes Alastor’s throat and he’s arching his hips forward, smearing his own pre-cum against Lucifer’s stomach and letting their shafts clumsily slide alongside each other just the once.
“Did you really think that our encounters were entirely chance?” Alastor laughs, even as he bends his head to mouth his way down from Lucifer’s neck to his chest. “Rosie gifted me to you, didn’t she?” He stops over a nipple, flicking his tongue against it while his thumb rubs the other nipple. “Sinner that I am, I knew there would be no way to get to you otherwise.”
“You’re showing your hand awfully early,” Lucifer gasps, clutching a fistful of Alastor’s pinkish-red hair as the demon keeps lapping and nibbling at him until his nipples feel so fucking raw that he hears a frankly embarrassing whine coming from himself.
With Alastor watching his every reaction, Lucifer feels like he should be putting the gag back on Alastor and having him chained up instead— now he knows that it’s likely Alastor is here because he wants his freedom, like all the other slaves before who had tried to get themselves under the Morningstar household. Damn it; he should have a stern word with Rosie, if only he could—
Alastor sinks his teeth around Lucifer’s nipple and pinches down on the other one. It draws a desperate cry from Lucifer, wiping the thoughts from his mind. His hips chase after Alastor’s needily, but all he is met with is Alastor’s empty hand, which brackets him by the waist and shoves him back down onto the bed.
“Darling, you showed yours the second you asked for my permission earlier,” Alastor counters belatedly, looking up with half-hooded eyes. He licks his teeth, stained with Lucifer’s golden blood.
The words shouldn’t be affecting Lucifer this much, and yet his breath hitches and he’s reaching up to smear the remnant blood across Alastor’s lips before yanking him down by the back of his neck for another hungry kiss.
“Shut up,” Lucifer says into the kiss, entirely lacking heat. And before he can think better of it, he wraps his fist around the head of Alastor’s cock, so thick that it barely fits his hand.
With a desperate groan, Alastor breaks off the kiss and rocks his hips forward, forcing Lucifer’s hand open as he fucks himself to the base of his shaft, dribbling pre-cum all over Lucifer’s fingers. With his other hand, Lucifer cups Alastor’s balls, caressing it with his thumb. The skin feels soft, and when Alastor lowers his head to rub his crown against Lucifer’s cheek, Alastor’s antlers are as velvety as the skin, just as he had imagined.
“Lucifer,” Alastor purrs, reaching between them to take over Lucifer’s hand and grab both their dicks, aligning them together perfectly so that he can start to stroke them both in earnest.
The skin-to-skin contact sets Lucifer ablaze, goosebumps dimpling his skin as he shivers, his breath rough in his throat. Freeing his hands, Lucifer closes his eyes and grabs blindly for the arm by his head that Alastor is holding himself up with, burying his mouth into Alastor’s wrist to muffle his moans.
“Don’t hide that pretty voice from me, Lucifer,” Alastor scolds raspily, even as they both keep jerking into his fist, the wet suck of their dribbling cocks in his grasp echoing in the air around them. “I want to hear you.”
When Lucifer tosses his head back and stares into Alastor’s heated, watchful eyes, a helpless whine tumbles from his mouth. “Al-Alastor,” he pants, reaching around the sinner to claw frantically at his ass and pulling their bodies more tightly together. “Fuck, Alastor. Harder— yeah like that. Alastor.”
The buck growls Lucifer’s name in response, his thrusts becoming erratic even as his pace quickens. He’s sweating now, the gold painted on his chest melting away with Lucifer moving against him so needily.
A tightness starts to coil in the pit of Lucifer’s stomach as he loses himself in the sensation, fucking alongside Alastor into his warm hand. When Lucifer hears Alastor moan his name with reverence, static reverberating his voice, he’s pushed over the edge with a short cry, coming until he sees nothing but white. Groaning deeply, Alastor follows him shortly after, his sensitive dick still sliding in Alastor’s unyielding grip while aftershocks continue to wrack his body.
“I’m not expecting you to give me my freedom,” Alastor says, collapsing to Lucifer’s side. He stretches himself against the sheets comfortably then turns to wrap his limbs around Lucifer’s small body, as if it were second nature for him.
Thinking about all those times he saw Alastor’s fervent expression in the stables, Lucifer kisses Alastor messily and Alastor makes it a point to kiss back harder, flushing their bodies together and smearing the mess across both their chests.
This demon will be the death of him, Lucifer already knows. Still, he asks, “Why become my slave then?”
“Oh, my sweet Morningstar,” Alastor whispers against the warmth of Lucifer’s neck. “I know what you’ve been doing for the slaves, and you and I— we’re going to start a revolution.”