Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Alastor was sitting down in a cafe, reading Hell’s most popular newspaper. His breakfast was finished, but he was taking his time sipping his second coffee and pouring over the news in search of pertinent information to plan his future.

So far, Hell was a disappointment. Alastor was hoping he would be done with all the trivialities of life once he would be dead. To have to find a place to live, earn money, eat three meals a day and, above all, sleep, was vexing on a whole new level.

Alastor woke up here a week ago, but he was still in the process of establishing himself, let alone grow his power. He was working in a tailor shop as a clerk to afford the miserable one room apartment he rented. There were a couple radio stations around, but he had yet to reach out to any of them. Establishing his radio show should have been his first priority, but, alas, feeding himself and finding shelter had to take precedent.

Hopefully, once his show would be taken care of, he could finally get started on his real plan for Hell domination.

In the last week, Alastor killed a couple sinners to find relief, but was quite disappointed when they came back to life. Since then, he had been looking for ways to deal permanent death. All he heard so far were whispers of angelic steel, but he was yet to put his eyes, let alone his hands, on any of it.

It was foolish to expect this newspaper to hold all the answers to his many pressing questions, but perhaps it could point him in the right direction. It never hurt to be informed either way, even if he had to dredge through all that garbage.

There were too many ads in this newspaper, and they all seemed to promote some sort of sex scheme, but it was unfortunately the best one in the city. As tacky as the writing style was, there was no denying every news came to The Daily Fix first. It wasn’t always accurate, but, with enough people reading it, it became the truth.

Alastor almost skipped that fateful advertisement too. What caught his attention was the wings.

Pausing, he detailed the drawing. There were six wings. Their top were pure white, but all their feathers were crimson, dripping down like blood. Alastor glossed over the character’s chest to see his expression. With his mouth opened in a cheeky grin, he had a forked tongue poking between two fingers in a suggestive pose.

Alastor was drawn to his eyes. The black pupils were vertical, his irises a bright red, and the sclera a blinding gold. They were looking straight at the reader with haughty humor.

The character’s skin was white, his hair platinum blond, and he was wearing a bright white suit that clashed with what Alastor had seen of Hell’s fashion trends. Red and black were popular, as you would expect, but pink was also everywhere, since it was the color of lust. Such a pure white was basically unheard of, and gold was used with parsimony to signal wealth, not with such extravagance.

It all made sense when his eyes read the first line of the ad: The Devil wants you!

There was more text underneath, but, before reading it, Alastor’s eyes moved back to that smug face, specifically the crown on top of his head. It was golden, with red rubies enhancing it.

A King’s crown.

Was that drawn character a representation of Lucifer? Alastor knew next to nothing about him. Sinners were afraid to speak his name, let alone gossip about him. That fear only piqued Alastor’s interest more, but information remained sparse.

Expectantly, Alastor read the ad in its entirety.

Are you tired of lacking power? Do you wish you could kill your enemies with barely a thought? You’re in luck, because the Devil is recruiting again! You read that right, folks, Lucifer, the King of Hell, needs your help to enforce his diabolical reign! Do you have what it takes to become his executioner? Come to the palace next Saturday and find out if you’re the right fit for his Majesty!

Alastor looked at the front page to check the date. It was Monday. He had less than a week to figure out what being Lucifer’s executioner entailed.

Coming back to the ad, he tried to find more information about the offered position, but there was nothing helpful. He stared at the condescending red and golden eyes for a long time, deep in thoughts.

In his life, Alastor had been a serial killer. There was a specific kind of target he enjoyed taking down: the powerful. It was better if they were rude or racist, but, to be fair, they always were. Men in power couldn’t help but look down at someone like Alastor, all because of the color of his skin.

It used to frustrate him, but he came to relish in it. Nothing felt better than killing an old white man who thought himself untouchable.

Alastor chuckled. Lucifer was the oldest man he had ever seen, and there was no doubt he thought himself invincible with all that power at his fingertips. Taking him down would be the sweetest release Alastor could imagine.

While he read the rest of the newspaper to not miss any important news, his mind stayed on that ad. He already knew he would be there on Saturday, but he needed more information. It paid to be prepared.

Later, at work, he waited until he was alone with his coworker to ask nonchalantly, “I read in the Daily Fix that Lucifer is recruiting an executioner.”

From the corner of his eyes, he watched the rabbit sinner flinch. “Forget it, man, it’s not worth it.”

“I’m simply curious,” Alastor insisted.

Suggestively, he flicked the rabbit’s ear. He might not be attracted to anyone, but he knew the signs of arousal well, and he wasn’t above using his charms to get what he wanted. He figured this sinner was a rabbit because he couldn’t help his lust. Alastor had seen his eyes trail down on every customers walking in, and it seemed he only refrained from making an approach when he was too scared to die. Even then, he sometimes pushed his luck way too far.

It made Alastor shudder every time he felt his dirty eyes on his ass, but he was careful not to let it show. He never engaged with his interest until now, keeping a safe and cordial distance from his hands. He knew he could defend himself if the rabbit got any ideas, but he was trying not to come to that point. He would no doubt lose his job if he killed his coworker in the store, even if his incessant humping of everything (or anyone) in his sight apparently wasn’t grounds for firing.

The rabbit jumped on his feet, already excited by Alastor’s touch.

He tried to appear reticent, but his tone betrayed his eagerness. “I don’t know much about it, but it’s all bad news, I can tell you that much.”

“Tell me what you do know,” Alastor intimated him. He patted his head in a condescending manner, making the rabbit moan.

“The devil made a deal with Heaven to kill a hundred sinners every year. If he doesn’t, they’ll come down and exterminate us. L-Lucifer has the power to erase sinners, but his punishment for defying Heaven is that he can’t harm sinners himself. He needs an executioner to sell their soul to him in exchange for his power.”

Alastor pinched his cheek to reward him. “That was very useful, thank you.”

Despite his lust, the rabbit sinner’s face became serious. “It’s not worth it, Al. Nobody lasts long in that job. Nobody,” he emphasized.

If he was willing to drop his smile, Alastor would be scowling. “Let me be the judge of that.”

“It’s your funeral, man,” the rabbit insisted. Becoming horny again, he asked, “If you’re planning to resign, can I–”

“No,” Alastor interrupted him, firmly but with a bit of teasing in his tone. “I’m afraid this,” he gestured at himself, “is not up for sell.”

“Aw man,” the rabbit complained.

To find relief, he went to hump the cash register. Wordlessly, Alastor moved to the other side of the store.

In the following days, he mulled over all that information.

Selling his soul would be a risky gamble. There were two ways to break a soul contract: either kill the person you made a deal with, or make them break their own terms. From what he heard, when one of the two parties didn’t respect their part of a contract, they lost all they gained while the other kept their advantage.

If you played your cards right, and made sure to put in a good loophole, you could gain everything while losing nothing. Of course, not all contracts were easily breakable, which was another reason why Alastor desperately needed a way to deal permanent death. He should never be out of options.

Alastor assumed Lucifer had been using sinners as executioners for a long time. If one of them ever found a loophole to nullify the contract, he would have been sure to rectify it for the next one. Alastor didn’t think he could count on that slim possibility to save himself from an eternity of enslavement, or, as his coworker hinted at, certain death.

He would have to find a way to kill Lucifer before his own time came. Others must have tried before him, but they didn’t have his wits or tenacity. He spent his entire life proving no one was untouchable. Killing the Devil would be the ultimate proof of his cunning.

His magnum opus.

The ad was in the newspaper the next day. Alastor detailed Lucifer’s wings again, his smug face, the gold in his eyes. He was as bright as the bible described him. Lucifer was the light bringer. He might be fallen, but he retained most of his Heavenly attributes, except for his scarlet wings. It was hard to imagine an angel would have feathers the color of blood. He must have gained them when he lost his halo.

Alastor only noticed he was salivating when his spit fell on Lucifer’s face. He cleaned his mouth with a napkin, then took a sip of coffee. He had to be careful not to let his desires get the best of him. Lucifer might be the embodiment of all he loved to sully with blood and death, but he wasn’t his to take yet.

Alastor had his work cut out for him.

Wednesday was his day off. He had planned to use that time to appeal to the most popular radio station, but being a radio host wasn’t part of his plans anymore. He was focused entirely on becoming the next executioner.

Alastor lurked around town, listening in to all the gossip unseen. He caught some conversations, but none that were useful.

Tired, but not ready to give up yet, Alastor sat down in a park. In front of him loomed a statue of Lucifer, big enough to block out the sun, if there was one. It was made of pure white marble, with an impressive amount of details. His extended wings and threatening pose would make even the biggest of sinners feel like an ant under his boots, and yet there was something beautiful, almost hypnotic, about him.

Alastor yearned to scratch out his dominating expression, pull out his golden eyes to have a taste. He wanted to pluck his feathers one by one and tear his wings off. He would finish him off by slitting his throat, painting all that white red.

Alastor was lost in his murder fantasies when he caught the tail end of a conversation nearby, “–mine has the best stuff!”

“Sh, someone might hear us.”

“Pff, relax! If they try to attack us, we can just...” they made a stabbing sound.

“Stop! Do you want everyone to know we have angelic steel?”

Alastor stood up, smiling wide. The two sinners were on the other side of the statue, speaking loudly about their precious cargo without a care in the world. Using Lucifer’s statue as a cover, Alastor studied them. One was a butterfly with beautiful pink wings, the other was some kind of canine. It was the latter who was waving the weapon around, a silver knife with an intricate handle. It was a bit short to Alastor’s taste, but it would do.

Quietly, Alastor approached them from behind. With a flourish, he pretended to trip and fall to his knees. The dog turned to him like planned, bringing the knife within reach.

Grabbing his wrist, Alastor squeezed as hard as he could. The sinner let out a shocked scream and opened his hand by reflex. Quickly, Alastor grabbed the knife before it fell to the ground.

The rest was easy. Using his new knife, Alastor slit both of their throats. Once he was done, he sat down at a new bench. He waited, drenched in their blood, to see if they would wake up.

They didn’t. Alastor waited until nightfall to be sure, but they were well and truly dead. Looking up at Lucifer’s back, all of his wings waiting to be clipped, Alastor could do nothing but laugh.

He gave his letter of resignation Friday evening. His coworker tried to get in his pants one last time, but Alastor granted his own wish and finally killed him. However, as a courtesy, he didn’t use the angelic blade. Apart from all his humping, the rabbit sinner had been a decent coworker, and he did give him the information he needed.

Alastor woke up Saturday morning in an amazing mood. Excited, he left all of his belongings behind, fully expecting never to come back to this shitty hole. He didn’t have a clear plan to catch Lucifer’s attention, but he could count on his capacity for improvisation. He was a talented entertainer if nothing else.

Everyone seemed to be going to the same destination as him. Alastor got lost in the crowd, but he didn’t let the huge turnout deter him. From the conversations he heard, a lot of people came only to watch, but it wouldn’t matter if there was a lot of competition. Nobody was more resourceful and determined to get this job than Alastor.

He would not let that new appetite of his go unsatiated.

The gigantic gates leading towards the palace were wide opened. Without surprise, the palace was made of marble. It seemed to glow compared to the dark architecture surrounding it. The front garden had ponds, bushes, flowers, all of it showing off wealth and royalty. There were numerous statues of Lucifer everywhere he looked, but no one else.

Not a lot of Lucifer’s life was known to sinners. The few people Alastor made talk told him the same information he already knew. If he had a spouse or children, nobody was aware of it.

They were led inside the palace by an impressive amount of guards. The interior was as blinding as the exterior. The walls were all white, and the only decorations were either gold or bright red. It was almost impressive how everything shined, to the point of hurting Alastor’s eyes.

The crowd made its way through a long empty corridor. At the end of it were opened doors leading to the throne room. Alastor passed its threshold with the rest of them, excitement making his steps lighter. He hated the architecture of this gaudy palace, but it did signal an untold amount of wealth and, more importantly, power.

A lot of his competitors were taken in by all the riches surrounding them. It made him wonder if being an executioner came with a salary. He assumed he would be living in the palace, which would hopefully mean money wouldn’t be a problem for him anymore. If not, having the title of executioner and the power to kill people would surely make anyone comply even without the cash.

The throne room was big and empty, except for pillars and, of course, the throne. There were a dozen stairs leading up to it. Alastor had no idea how tall Lucifer was, but he would imagine a king would not take kindly to being looked down upon.

Alastor had to strain to see, but he was pretty sure Lucifer was already there, lounging back in his throne. He was flanked by a couple people, but, from his bad vantage point, it was hard to tell if they were sinners or Hellborn. He would imagine they were Hellborn. One thing that was famously known about Lucifer was his aversion to sinners.

It must not have been a hardship, to strike that bargain with Heaven.

The one thing Alastor could see well made him pause. Above the throne sat a board made of pure gold with ornate borders. On it was written the number forty seven. The number glowed in pure white, but, despite the golden background, it was easy to read. It was big enough to clearly see from the entrance to the throne room, almost obscuring the throne underneath it.

It didn’t take him long to figure out what those numbers meant. The only question was if they counted the number of sinners killed this year or how many were left.

Alastor was relieved when a loud voice boomed, “Silence! The King is ready to take applications now. Anyone who desires to offer their lives, step up.”

With a hop, Alastor took a step forward, then another. The guards made them kneel in five different lines. He settled in the second one from the front. The ground wasn’t very comfortable, but Alastor was grateful they were forced to sit. He had a far better view of the throne now.

Lucifer looked like his drawing and many, many statues. Sitting back on his throne, legs wide opened, he had his head tilted back. The crown sitting on it blended with his hair, as if it was part of his body. He had a cane with him this time, golden with a red apple for a knob. He was rubbing the fruit suggestively, his smile bored and his eyes oriented towards the ceiling.

His wings were draped behind him like a cloak. Alastor had been wondering why he didn’t wear a cape, since it was part of any good royal outfit, but of course his wings were far more impressive than any amount of fabric could be. They were so long they surpassed the top of the golden throne, even if it was at least twice as tall as Lucifer himself. They almost, but not quite, reached the death count.

There was no denying he was the King of Hell.

Alastor chuckled in his hand. He couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he would ruin all that precious white and gold.

Finally, Lucifer spoke.

“Alright, bitches, show me what you got!”

It wasn’t what Alastor expected, for a lot of reasons. First of all, he imagined he would have a dated speech, considering his age. It wouldn’t have surprised him if he didn’t speak and let his servants talk for him. To hear him utter such familiar words, and in an incredibly casual tone, clashed with the tension he had built so far.

The first in line stepped up. Alastor looked as the shark sinner humiliated themselves by insisting on their mediocre prowess. Lucifer didn’t let them finish before he waved his hand and called, with a bored voice, “Next!”

Alastor didn’t pay much attention to the others’ attempts. He kept his eyes on the king instead. Lucifer slouched on his throne further and further as he dismissed everyone, yawning loudly. Before long, he turned to sit sideways, his legs kicking over the armrest.

As he called for the next participant, he made his cane disappear and summoned a rubber duck in its place. He didn’t look up at the next few applicants at all, playing with his top hat wearing yellow toy, making it squeak and mouthing noises at it. Alastor’s competitors were the ones who had to dismiss themselves.

Clearly, Lucifer was bored out of his mind.

Alastor laughed in his hand again. He loved words, but he was a man of action too. If Lucifer wanted entertainment, he would give it to him.

When his time came, Alastor stood up. Instead of walking up to plead to the king, he stepped behind the next sinner in line. Grabbing them by the hair, Alastor pulled out his angelic knife and slit their throat. He didn’t give them time to scream.

It was fastidious work, but he was able to saw his way through until the body fell down, disconnected from its head. Smiling, Alastor put his knife away and walked to the bottom of the stairs. Nobody tried to stop him, but the royal guards eyed him intensely, spears at the ready. Alastor assumed they were made with angelic steel, although he wasn’t ready to test it.

Lucifer was still entertaining himself with his duck, completely disconnected from what was happening.

Discreetly, Alastor looked up at the death count. Forty six. One less. The board showed how many remained to die.

Interestingly, Lucifer’s deal with Heaven didn’t specify the sinners had to be killed by his power. In less than a week, Alastor had already contributed to three deaths out of the hundred needed. One more proof that he deserved this job more than anyone else.

With a good throw, Alastor landed the head on Lucifer’s lap.

“What the fuck?” The king screamed, looking down at his lap. The duck disappeared from his hand, which was a victory all of its own.

“I merely wish to keep you entertained, my king,” Alastor spoke up.

He had planned to kneel down, but, when Lucifer’s eyes landed on him, he felt his knees lock up. He had a feeling being cheeky would work in his favor, but he had to admit the main reason was far more visceral.

Lucifer studied him intently, his eyes burning Alastor’s skin. Without showing one ounce of disgust, he took the head by the hair, but it wasn’t to contemplate it. Instead, he slowly stood from his throne, his wings fluttering behind him.

Once he was on his feet, Lucifer threw the head back at him. By reflex, Alastor caught it.

Sporting a crooked smile, the king walked down to him in slow, deliberate steps. He could have flown, but he used his feet instead, all of his wings extended to show his superiority. Alastor stared, refusing to call the feeling in his chest awe.

Without meaning to, he let his hands fall down at his sides. When the head landed on the floor with a soft, wet thud, he didn’t so much as glance at it.

Lucifer stopped close enough to touch him. Now that they were on the same level, Alastor realized he was a good foot shorter than him. However, his diminutive size didn’t matter when his wings were so immense. Each pair could engulf him twice and still have enough room for more people.

“I like you,” Lucifer confessed.

Before he had time to revel in his success, Alastor was kissed.

Lucifer pushed his body against his hard enough to make Alastor gasp. He used that opening to slid his forked tongue between his lips. His hands traveled up his shoulders, to caress his deer ears, then down his back. They stopped on his ass to fondle it with so much force Alastor felt himself being lifted off the floor.

Meanwhile, his tongue was traveling his mouth like he was ice cream melting under the sun.

Before Alastor could decide if he wanted to reciprocate, Lucifer pulled back with a pop. He licked his lips in satisfaction. All Alastor could do was stand there as Lucifer let go of his ass and touched the ground. It made Alastor realize he had been flying to be at his level.

Lucifer flew and he was too close to see any of it. Alastor sure hope he would get another chance to see those wings in action sometime soon.

“Your ass is sweet too, I bet it’s tight,” Lucifer added in a pleased tone. “Yup, I choose you, everyone else can get the fuck out of my palace.”

There was a charged silence. Lucifer broke eye contact to look at the rest of the crowd.

“I said...”

Alastor stared as Lucifer’s entire appearance changed. All the white on him became black, and the gold turned to bright red. His skin was a dark abyss, his limbs nothing but void tentacles, making his red eyes that much more striking. He had horns on his head with red tips, and a tail swinging behind him. His wings were black too, making the red feathers look so much more like blood.

He had been looking at the fallen angel until now, but this, this was the Devil.

“Get the fuck out of my palace!” Lucifer repeated, his booming, all encompassing voice distorted by his power.

Alastor heard the sinners scrambling behind him, but he couldn’t move his eyes away from Lucifer. He desperately needed to stain the white version of Lucifer in red, but this dark one gave him an urge he never felt before. He wanted to see blood on his hands. Alastor yearned to watch Lucifer kill the hundred sinners he was tasked with eliminating with those too long, bent at wrong angles, fingers.

He was hit with real disappointment when he remembered it wasn’t possible. Even as this monstrosity of darkness and feathers, Lucifer couldn’t harm sinners. He wouldn’t need an executioner if he could.

Lucifer changed back to his normal appearance. Alastor couldn’t help a small noise of displeasure, but, if he heard it, the king didn’t acknowledge it.

With a bright smile on his white as snow face, Lucifer cupped Alastor’s cheek, caressed his lower lip with his thumb and asked, “What’s your name, pretty?”

“Alastor,” he answered. To his dismay, his voice caught in his throat.

“I’m gonna call you Al,” Lucifer decided.

Patting his cheek patronizingly, he pulled back and snapped his fingers at someone without breaking their eye contact.

“The contract!” He ordered impatiently.

Some imp brought it to him. Lucifer snatched it and pushed it in Alastor’s chest. “Don’t bother reading it. You won’t make it out of here alive if you don’t sign it.”

Alastor swallowed. “Isn’t the whole point that you can’t kill me?”

He expected him to become angry at the reminder, but Lucifer only smiled in a mysterious way. “I can’t, but he will.”

Alastor didn’t have time to ask who he was talking about. Another imp pushed a pen in his hand. He pulled back the contract, but there was too much information for him to read it in its entirety. He tried to skim it as much as he could, but only one detail caught his eyes. It was a pretty big loophole, making him smile wider. It wouldn’t help him get out of this deal, but it would afford him a lot of freedom.

Without waiting further, Alastor apposed his signature on the dotted line. A golden collar appeared on his throat, with a chain going all the way to Lucifer’s left hand.

The deal vanished in his hands, and the chain became invisible. Alastor was hoping he could read it later, to see if he could find other loopholes, but he was satisfied with what he caught so far.

Alastor could feel Lucifer’s power thrumming from his chest to his fingertips. He took a step back and looked down to see a black and red mic materializing in his right hand. As he moved the mic around, he felt shadow tentacles poking out of his back. He quickly realized he could manipulate all the shadows in the room, as well as use sound waves.

He expected to gain the same powers as Lucifer, but it adapted to him instead. It was clear why, as a former radio host, he had powers related to sound, but he wondered if the shadows were supposed to symbolize his serial killer vocation.

Alastor was moving his shadow tentacles around when he heard someone else walking in through a back door behind the throne. He turned to this new coming person in time to catch Lucifer appearing next to him. The king leaned in to speak in his ear, but Alastor could hear his whispering with his newfound power.

“I’m sorry I have to do this to you, but you know people were starting to doubt you. I love you, Husky, never forget that.”

The sinner had the appearance of a cat with wings. He was dressed in a tuxedo, like a magician. It became clear he was looking at the previous executioner when Lucifer appeared his leash to pull him closer and kiss him passionately. Alastor stared at this show of passion, something ugly taking hold of his heart, possessive and jealous and dangerous.

“I love you too, Lucifer,” the cat confessed back. He sounded like he meant it. “I can win anything if you believe in me.”

“Kill him, my love, and we’ll be back together in no time,” Lucifer promised with one last lingering kiss.

Husky nodded with determination. “I won’t let you down.”

After one last smile, Lucifer teleported back to Alastor’s side. In a far colder voice, he ordered him, “Kill him.”

“It will be my pleasure,” Alastor answered, annoyed by how much he meant it.

Without further ado, the cat charged at him. Alastor sank in his shadows with a laugh. He could already tell he would have a lot of fun with this power.

He dodged around as Husky attacked him with cards and rings. When Alastor sent shadow tentacles to attack back, he evaded them with all kinds of magic trick.

Alastor played with him for a little while, to get used to his power in battle, but, eventually, he grew bored. He tested his sound powers by summoning a static noise in Husky’s ears. The previous executioner sank to his knees and pressed his palms to his ears. Alastor could see blood leaking under his hands.

Using his confusion, Alastor made his shadow tentacle sharp and pierced his heart. For good measure, he detached his head from his shoulders with far more ease than with the angelic knife.

Since he was done, Alastor retracted all his powers. He searched for Lucifer, only to find him kneeling down besides his past lover. Alastor assumed his death saddened him at first, but then Lucifer took the head and threw it up in the air once. He then cradled it in his hands in an almost tender hold, looking into his dead eyes with a twisted kind of fondness.

Sighing, Lucifer confessed, “You really were weak, Husky.”

Standing up, he took the head by the hair and swung it around. As he walked to Alastor, he splattered his previous lover’s blood everywhere seemingly without a care in the world.

“I’m glad I won’t have to play that game anymore. Can you imagine me, the King of Hell, in love with a sinner? He was so gullible, it was almost cute.”

Lucifer’s smile was playful, his eyes bright.

“Is that how it works?” Alastor wondered. “The first task of your executioner is to kill their predecessor?”

“Not all the time,” Lucifer sing sang, taking pleasure in twirling around and swinging Husky’s head in exaggerated arcs, like a little kid. “Sometimes I have Hellborns execute them, or I order them to kill themselves.”

Without warning, he stopped dead in his tracks. Stepping in his space, Lucifer informed him, with a sadistic glint in his eyes, “Did you know that, if I told you to kill yourself, you would have to do it? Once, I made a hundred people sign a contract and then ordered them to kill themselves. I didn’t have to interact with a single gross sinners for a whole year.”

Sighing, he added, “It’s too bad I can’t do that all the time. I need to spice things up, keep you all on your toes. We’re supposed to avoid a rebellion after all. I can’t be predictable.”

The king brought his past lover’s head between them, obscuring his own face. Alastor made eye contact with its dead eyes. It would have been a chilling sight for someone else, but Alastor was used to dead stares.

Lucifer lowered his head enough to make eye contact again. Kissing one of his former lover’s ears, he informed him with glee, “I’m gonna go have fun with Husky one last time. Someone will show you to your room. I’ll get to you later.”

Hugging the head to his chest like a teddy bear, Lucifer sent him a wide grin and teleported in a puff of red smoke. Alastor had time to see Husky’s body vanishing in a mist of red too, but he did his best not to picture what Lucifer had in mind for it.

As he was told, an imp came to guide Alastor to his room. The other guards he had seen before had vanished while he was busy fighting Husky. He would have to find out what species they were later.

He tried to ask questions to his guide, but the demon didn’t answer any of them. After a while, they turned to him and showed him their opened mouth: their tongue was cut out.

The rest of the way was silent. The imp opened the door for him and silently closed after him. Alastor examined the room. It was big and luxurious, but way too golden and white to his taste. It only took him a twirl of his mic to change it all to darker tones.

Sitting down on a dark red velvet couch, Alastor concentrated and summoned the contract. With a relieved sigh, he went on to read.

As he thought, there was one glaring loophole, but it was otherwise pretty tight. When Lucifer gave him a target, Alastor had to kill them, unless the order was retracted. Failure to execute his order would give him a fatal heart attack an hour later. If Lucifer ordered him to kill himself, Alastor would have to comply or die an hour later anyway.

It was reassuring to find out it wasn’t a compulsion. Lucifer couldn’t manipulate his mind or his emotions. It was a small victory considering he could have him die with barely a word.

Alastor couldn’t use Lucifer’s power to kill someone if he wasn’t ordered to. That was where the loophole laid: he could kill anyone he liked, as long as he didn’t use Lucifer’s power. His angelic blade would come in handy.

The best part of the deal was that, as long as it wasn’t to kill, Alastor could use Lucifer’s power as much as he wanted. The deal prevented him from using his power to deal the killing blow, but he could torture anyone he wanted without explicit permission.

Overall, Alastor wouldn’t have as much freedom as he wanted, but it would be more than he expected.

An imp brought him lunch, but he couldn’t tell if it was the same one as before. The many plates contained various types of meats, bread, vegetables and fruits. He was also served a glass of wine with the bottle left next to it. Alastor had to admit it was the best meal he had since he fell in Hell, and perhaps for all of his existence. The wine was amazing too, even if it wasn’t his favorite kind of alcohol.

Food was one perk he had been looking forward to, and he was gratified to see his hopes weren’t unfounded. He would be eating like a king going forward.

He was still chewing when he was teleported away without warning. Alastor appeared in another bedroom, in front of a gigantic bed. Right in front of him, resting on the mattress, were the two parts of the sinner he had previously killed, covered in his own blood and a lot of sperm. More than Alastor thought possible from one single source, or even ten.

“I’m done with him,” a voice told him. Alastor looked towards it and regretted it immediately.

Lucifer was fully naked, lounging against the headboard. His legs were wide opened without anything to cover his exposed body. His wings weren’t visible, making his slim silhouette appear so much smaller, almost like he was a kid. Alastor’s eyes were unfortunately attracted down. Even soft, his penis was very long, and it was red with what he could only assume was Husky’s blood.

“I love to fuck corpses,” Lucifer confessed without prompting. Alastor looked back at his face to catch his smug expression. Shame wasn’t a concept Alastor was intimately familiar with, but he had a feeling Lucifer was even more removed from it than him.

“They don’t talk back, scream or fucking beg, and I can harm dead sinners, or dead-er sinners I guess, as much as I want.”

“Why am I here?” Alastor wondered.

Did he summon him to gloat, or did he want him to join in? Neither sounded appetizing, but he would take the former over the latter.

“I want you to butcher him so we can eat him later. I’m sure you know how to do that, I can tell you’re a cannibal.”

Alastor looked back at the cadaver. He could see there were far more holes than what he inflicted. All of them were oozing a pinkish substance. Alastor wished he never had to find out what blood mixed with semen looked like.

“You’re gonna want to clean him first though,” the king giggled. “Unless you’re into that.”

Alastor couldn’t help a wide body shudder at the suggestion. Unfortunately, Lucifer didn’t miss it.

Falling on all fours, Lucifer crawled up to him. He climbed up his body with his hands, pulling him in by the lapels. Alastor didn’t resist, but he didn’t make it easier either.

Circling his shoulders almost tenderly, Lucifer confessed, close to his face, “Don’t worry, it’s gonna be your turn soon, honey.”

He kissed him. This time, Alastor kissed back.

He wasn’t stupid, he knew what would await him when he decided to take this job. Lucifer made his disdain of sinners abundantly clear. Alastor had no reason to think he would be particularly concerned with his executioner’s consent.

Not to mention that he was also trying to manipulate him. If he had to sleep with him to achieve that, so be it. Lucifer couldn’t harm him, that surely meant being fucked by him at the very least wouldn’t hurt. Alastor would take it if it felt good, but he could also pretend if it didn’t. He was used to it.

He might be prepared to share his bed, but now wasn’t the time. He had to tease him at least a little before giving in.

“I have a body to prepare, your Majesty,” he pulled back, not without licking Lucifer’s lips teasingly.

“It can wait,” Lucifer suggested, perching himself on his shoulders. He was jumping up and down on his knees like a kid.

Somehow, Alastor doubted he was testing him. Did he have more in him, after all he did to that corpse? Perhaps being the Devil came with the perk of infinite stamina, although he would be tempted to call it a curse.

“The meat might go bad,” Alastor insisted. Gently, he took Lucifer’s hands and removed them from around his shoulders.

Surprisingly, Lucifer let him. Crawling back, he manifested white fluffy pajamas on his body and sank under the blanket. He retrieved a bright yellow duck plushie and hugged it tight.

“See you at dinner, Al!”

Alastor didn’t answer. Taking the battered and filthy body in his shadows, he teleported out of the room and navigated through the palace in his shadows. He found the kitchen soon enough, with an attached cold room. As soon as he appeared in it, everyone vacated to let him work.

The first thing Alastor did was clean the body, like Lucifer suggested. Although he wouldn’t catch anything in Hell, Alastor used gloves. Once all the semen was removed, he prepared it for consumption. They would need to let the meat age a couple weeks, but he assumed there would be another piece ready for tonight.

As he worked, Alastor thought about all he learned that day. Lucifer was nothing like he imagined him, and yet he was all he could dream of and more. He did find a lot about him distasteful, but his depravity only added to the allure of killing him.

He would take his time. Once Lucifer was dead, Alastor would lose all his power. He was looking forward to making deals and becoming an Overlord, but, first, he would have his fun with Lucifer.

Chapter Text

Once Alastor was done preparing Husky’s body for later consumption, he retreated to his room. There was time left before dinner, but, first things first, he needed to sit down and gather his thoughts.

His first priority was to figure out was who ran the palace. Lucifer held all the power in theory, but Alastor couldn’t imagine him taking care of every day chores. He must have appointed someone to assist him, and Alastor doubted he would trust a sinner with that kind of important work.

Lucifer would have chosen a Hellborn as his royal advisor. Alastor needed to talk to them to better understand his own role and figure out how the court worked.

Alastor was lucky to find a book about the hierarchy of demons in Hell on his first day as a sinner. It was one of the few books he had time to read since he died.

At the top of the hierarchy were entities called Sins, who ruled over their own layers. They each represented one of the seven cardinal sins. Fittingly, Lucifer was the Sin of Pride. He reigned over the ring of the same name, along with the rest of Hell.

Every Sin created their own race to serve them. Lucifer’s was called the Ars Goetia. Because of their creator, the owl like demons were the highest rank of Hellborns. Imps were created by Satan, Succubi by Asmodeus, and so on.

Sinners weren’t allowed to leave the Pride ring, but Hellborns could go where they pleased. The book insisted it was in order to protect the other layers from human influence, but whether that was true remained to be seen.

Lucifer’s advisor had to be a Goetic demon. That narrowed down his search.

After writing down his thoughts in a notebook he made appear, Alastor sank in his shadows and explored the palace. He went to the throne room first, which was empty. There weren’t any guards around either. It must only be used when the King needed to make a public appearance.

Even if he didn’t need to, Alastor took the time to examine the death count more thoroughly. He wondered if Heaven placed it there. It certainly looked like it came from up above, with all its gold and blinding white.

It didn’t sound very virtuous to humiliate Lucifer by placing a reminder of his duty over his throne, but, then again, killing a hundred sinners per year didn’t either. Whatever angels were, they certainly didn’t sound benevolent towards sinners, or indeed Hell in general.

The number was set at forty five. No one died since he killed Husky. He made a note to ask when the deadline was. The deal must have been signed long ago; he wouldn’t make the mistake of presuming the date was the New Year he was used to. For all he knew, it could be in a week, in which case he really needed to get a move on.

Once he took notes of his most pressing questions, Alastor moved in his shadows once more. Not only was it a convenient way to travel, but nobody could see him, as long as he stuck to the walls or the floor.

He saw many Hellborns walking around, mostly imps and what he guessed were Baphomets and Infestors. The only Goetic demons he saw were guards, either milling around or guarding certain specific doors. He also noticed the flagrant lack of Succubi, but he imagined their roles were vastly different. As for Hellhounds, they were far too low in the social ladder to be working in the palace.

Interestingly, he didn’t spot one sinner. While it was too early to claim with complete certainty, Alastor imagined he was the only one residing in the palace.

He was trying to remember what kind of demon he saw around Lucifer’s throne when he finally spotted what he was looking for. He was gliding through a corridor, only to stop in front of a door that had two Goetic demons in armor guarding it. There was an ornate plaque with the title ‘Chancellor’ emblazoned on it. Alastor noticed there was no name, but it looked legitimate, all in sleek black and shining red.

Without the guards noticing, Alastor slipped under the door to land in what looked like an office. Leaning against a beautiful desk in front of a large window was a Goetic demon. His owl features were undeniable, and he wasn’t wearing armor. His clothes denoted royal affiliations, all in regal blues and purples. He also had a breath taking view of the garden behind the palace.

It was the first time Alastor was seeing it. As beautiful as his own room was, it decidedly lacked windows. He didn’t see all of Lucifer’s quarters yet, but it didn’t look like he had windows either. He wondered why. It wasn’t like Lucifer had to worry about assassins, unlike his chancellor, who was not immortal.

The Goetic demon was talking with an imp who, for once, still had his tongue. Despite the fact that the owl demon must outrank him, the imp was teasing his embarrassed superior and leaning rather provocatively in his space.

“I told you he wouldn’t last long,” the imp insisted with a smug grin. “Nobody does.”

“I know,” the owl moaned dramatically. “But I was hoping he might be the one to, you know…”

The imp casually touched his interlocutor on the forearm in a show of comfort. In answer, the owl’s smile turned softer.

“He’s a lost cause,” the imp went on in a softer voice. “You know you shouldn’t get your hopes up.”

“He didn’t use to be like this. Ozzie has all these nice stories about him.”

“It was a long time ago,” the imp insisted.

The owl sighed deeply. He looked like he wanted to argue further, but, in the end, he bit his tongue.

Alastor, hidden in his shadows, smiled wider. It was easy to guess from context clues who they were talking about. If what the Goetic demon said was true, Lucifer had changed over the years, and not for the better. It made sense for him to become more demonic as he fell from grace, but Alastor had an inkling there was more to it. He would have a lot of investigating to do, starting with this ‘Ozzie’ person.

The beginning part was also interesting. Lucifer had no doubt been playing a game with Husky, but it was convincing enough to inspire hope in his chancellor. He should have been the better placed person to see through his act, and yet, it looked like he was uncharacteristically optimistic. It made Alastor curious about his relationship with Lucifer.

The imp glanced both ways like he was about to cross the streets, then grabbed the other demon by the lapels and pulled him down to his level. Alastor watched his second passionate kiss of the day, but this one didn’t bring any ugly feelings with it. His heart was only filled with a deep satisfaction.

There was no doubt their amorous relationship was a secret. Hell was very hierarchic, and inter-species coupling were frowned upon, if not flat out criminalized. Because of his important role, the Goetic demon would probably get away with nothing more than a slap on the wrist, but the imp would be killed for courting so high above his station.

After all, imps were the lowest on the hierarchy, only beating Hellhounds by a hair. They were completely disposable.

Looking further at the imp’s clothes, it became clear to Alastor that he in fact wasn’t an employee of the palace. It also explained why he still had his tongue, which he was enthusiastically sliding into his lover’s mouth.

“You’re so cute when you’re being naive,” the imp commented between two heavy kisses.

“Blitzy,” the other moaned in pure pleasure.

This wasn’t only lust, or a transactional relationship. There was no doubt in Alastor’s mind that the Goetic demon was head over heels in love with his make out partner. Although the imp was a little harder to read, he seemed to reciprocate his feelings. This moment was far too tender to be anything but love.

The imp’s hand moved to his lover’s ass. “You’re a cute little whore, Stols.”

“Oh yes, more,” the owl demon answered.

Alastor noted their respective names as Blitzy and Stols, even if he had a feeling those were affectionate nicknames. Since he didn’t want to witness the sex they were no doubt about to have, Alastor left in his shadows and returned to his room.

Alastor was furiously writing everything down when he was once more summoned away. He landed on another chair and looked up to find Lucifer staring back at him. They were seated at a small table, in the king’s quarters. One quick look around allowed Alastor to note they were in a living room area. He could see the door to the bedroom wide open, as well as a closed door that seemed to lead outside his quarters. As he had assumed, there were no windows in the dimly lit room.

There was a steak sitting on a plate in front of him, cooked rare like Alastor preferred. On Lucifer’s side, there was a plate filled with pancakes drenched in syrup. The king nonchalantly cut a bite and brought it to his mouth. Alastor watched him chew for a tad too long before he took his own cutlery and cut a piece for himself.

The meat was excellent, but Alastor didn’t recognize it. He knew the taste of humans on Earth, and he tasted sinners on a plate a couple times since he made it to Hell, but this was something else. It wasn’t an animal he knew either.

Alastor swallowed his bite, then reached for the glass of wine. Lucifer drank from a yellow sippy cup with a duck face on it. Since he couldn’t see inside it, Alastor could only guess it wasn’t wine, but whether it was milk or something even more egregious was anyone’s guess.

Come to think of it, his plate and cutlery wouldn’t be too out of place in front of a toddler. Of course, it was all yellow, and Alastor would bet there were ducks on everything. He was starting to see a pattern there.

As for Lucifer himself, he wasn't wearing his earlier outfit anymore. Instead of a white suit, he had a large pink sweater stained a paler shade than the rest in some spots. Alastor never wanted to know the substance responsible and preferred to put it out of his mind entirely. His head was also unadorned, but his hair was slicked back like before, pristine and soft looking. Alastor glanced down and caught sight of his pants: they were another shade of pink with stripes.

After analyzing all that information, Alastor glanced at Lucifer’s face. He was eyeing him with interest, his smile crooked. The king was no doubt waiting for him to point out his childish dinnerware.

Keeping his smile casual, Alastor cut another piece of his steak and asked instead, “Did you have a good nap, your Majesty?”

Lucifer hummed not in ascent, but dubiously. He ate another bite of his pancake without answering. It was difficult, in this context, to see his angelic face as anything but juvenile.

“This steak is rather good,” Alastor went on after swallowing, “but I don’t recognize the meat.”

Lucifer’s smile tightened, aging his expression considerably. He put his utensils down and leaned his chin on his hand, looking up at him playfully. Under the table, his sock covered toes rubbed suggestively on Alastor’s shin.

“I had something special cooked up just for you,” Lucifer admitted in a seductive tone.

Alastor didn’t move his leg away. “Who am I eating?”

Lucifer barked a laugh. “Do you want its name?”

“If his Majesty would be so kind,” Alastor replied sarcastically.

Lucifer looked towards the ceiling and hummed pensively.

“I don’t remember,” he admitted shamelessly. “I know it was an imp. It tried to kill Stolas and got killed instead. Is it tasty?”

Stols’ real name was Stolas. That was good to know. Alastor wisely didn’t ask about Blitzy. He shouldn’t go losing his bargaining chip before he had a chance to play it.

Instead of answering Lucifer’s question, Alastor cut another bite and chewed on it thoughtfully. It was his first time eating a Hellborn. The difference with sinners was staggering. If he had to put it into words, he would say it was more gamey. Humans tasted dangerously close to pigs. This steak was also spicy, but whether it was the meat itself or the seasoning was anyone’s guess.

One thing was certain, though: he enjoyed it immensely.

“It’s palatable,” Alastor admitted in a falsely courteous tone.

Lucifer pulled his foot back and chuckled. He went back to eating his pancakes with apparent delight. He looked no more than five years old as he spread syrup all over his face.

Alastor wondered if he ever ate sinner and Hellborn meat, or if he only indulged in similarly childish food. The image came to him unbidden: he imagined cutting his steak in little pieces for Lucifer to eat. For all he loved sex, Lucifer looked and acted like a kid most of the time. Taking naps, drinking from a sippy cup, not to mention his obsessive love of ducks. It turned out it was true that, with age, people regressed to childhood.

As long as he wouldn’t have to change diapers, Alastor figured he could handle it.

Lucifer shifted to sit in a small ball, with his ankles planted on the chair. Hugging his legs, he took the cup and sipped from it loudly. Alastor observed him from the corner of his eyes. He was an excellent conversationalist if he needed to be, but he wanted to see what Lucifer would do if he didn’t entertain him. What he needed now more than anything was information.

He was half way through his steak when Lucifer exclaimed, “That’s it, I’m bored.”

Alastor didn’t fall. One second, he was sitting, and the next, he was laying on his back with his legs wide opened. He understood he was naked when he felt a shiver travel his body. His only source of warmth was under his knees, two points of pressure he would later understand were Lucifer’s hands.

He didn’t have time to adjust to this new position. Hell, he didn’t have time to understand what was happening before he felt something press against his entrance. It plunged inside him mercilessly fast, far deeper than anything Alastor was ever fucked with, and yet it didn’t hurt. There was no lube to make it glide better, but the friction wasn’t painful. The intrusion didn’t feel good either. It felt, for the lack of a better word, clinical.

The strange sensation made the situation even more impossible for him to grasp.

A weight fell on him. He recognized Lucifer by the color of his hair. He had hidden his face against his chest, no doubt to take a break.

Alastor counted a second, then two. His brain connected some dots. Lucifer must have teleported him to the bed and made him naked. The hot and unyielding, yet not painful, pressure inside him was Lucifer’s dick. His very long cock was inside Alastor, presumably to the hilt.

It was true: Lucifer couldn’t harm him, even without prep.

He was given no more time to think. Lucifer straightened up with a grunt and looked down at him, his smile smug. Alastor wondered what kind of expression he was showing him, but there was no time to check.

Taking hold of his knees again, Lucifer moved his hips.

Alastor grasped the sheets hard enough to hurt. He was panting already, and not even a minute had passed. Lucifer was thrusting his hips inhumanly fast, at a pace Alastor couldn’t fathom. It became clear he was only seeking his pleasure in him without any regard for Alastor’s. The few times he hit his prostate must have been by pure accident.

All of it was a blur. Alastor stayed confused the entire time, by the lack of pain, the lack of pleasure, the friction that should have made him bleed but didn’t. He didn’t notice he wasn’t hard in the all encompassing confusion.

Lucifer stared down at him the entire time. Alastor read disdain, disgust, pleasure, amusement, sadism, and much more in his expressive eyes, but he couldn’t reconcile it all in a neat explanation. Whatever his motives were, and what he was getting out of this, it was completely obscure to him.

Alastor groaned in distress. Lucifer made his entire body move with every thrust, and he scrambled to find some stability. It was the last thing on his mind to maintain his usual smile, or his composure. All he needed was time to think and process, but he wasn’t allowed that small mercy.

“Fuck,” Lucifer grunted. That was his only warning.

Lucifer stilled deep inside him, filling Alastor with his cum. It was almost comforting, to feel for the first time the wetness he expected from the start. When Lucifer pulled out, the friction was dulled by this natural lubricant, and Alastor’s confusion abated a little.

He wasn’t sure why he expected it to be the end. If the tragic fate of Husky told him anything, it was that Lucifer had stamina. He only pulled his dick out to force Alastor on his front and plunged right back in.

Face first in the mattress, Alastor tried to breath. He pressed his cheek against the sheets to free his mouth. Lucifer was holding his hip in one hand, while the other played with his tail.

Alastor tried to get on all fours to get his bearings, only for Lucifer to slam his head back down. He scratched his ears with gusto, like a cat’s, before going back to his tail. Alastor learned his lesson and kept his head down.

This second round felt more pleasurable to Alastor. With the cum to lube the way, the fucking felt far more natural. He was in a good position for Lucifer to hit his prostate time and again, although he imagined it wasn’t by design.

Plunging his nails in the mattress, Alastor moaned. He could feel his dick hardening, and the desire to do something about it. The slight friction with the sheets was pure torture on his under stimulated cock. When he tried to shimmy a hand under his body to jerk himself off, Lucifer slapped it away.

Only one of them was allowed to enjoy this, and it wasn’t Alastor.

“Fuck, you really are tight,” Lucifer commented.

He was panting hard too. Alastor could feel his sweat falling on his body. This encounter had gone from too dry to too wet, and he wasn’t sure which one was worst.

“Your tail is super cute,” he added, a laughter in his voice. Alastor had a hard time deciding if it was a genuine praise or sarcasm.

He tried to answer, but all that came out of him was a jumbled mess of moans and broken vowels. Fortunately, Lucifer didn’t seem to mind.

Alastor expected sex this evening, but he assumed there would be some form of foreplay. Looking back, perhaps he shouldn’t have. Whatever game Lucifer played with Husky was clearly over, and he saw him as nothing more than a hole to fill.

As Lucifer fucked him faster and deeper, Alastor closed his eyes. He did his best to ignore the burn of bitter tears, but they came bubbling out of him in sobs. He stubbornly didn’t plead for Lucifer to stop, and instead opted to bite his lower lip until iron filled his mouth.

His revenge would be all the sweeter after this humiliation, he reminded himself. Alastor had had his fair share of painful experiences with powerful men who saw him as an object, but he always came out on top in the end. This shame, too, could be turned into a weapon to overthrow Lucifer.

It didn’t make his tears any less bitter, but it was the only consolation he could afford himself.

Lucifer came a second time inside him and let him fall on the mattress. Alastor’s entire body was made of cotton, but his dick burned with the need to come. Even so, he craved nothing more than for Lucifer to leave him alone to lick his lack of wounds in peace, but he knew such a kind fate wasn’t in store for him.

Once more, Alastor’s body was displaced. He was now straddling something hot. He dropped his palms flat on this surface to keep his balance, only to realize he was pressing down on Lucifer’s stomach. He looked up his naked, hairless, smooth, creamy white chest to find his eyes.

Lucifer was smiling brightly. He was having fun.

Alastor opened his mouth, but, before he could speak, he felt Lucifer’s hands opening his ass and his dick pushing on his entrance. He yelped and struggled by reflex, but there was no fighting gravity. Soon enough, the king’s cock was once more completely inside him. With two orgasms worth of cum, it almost felt comfortable.

Lucifer moved his hands to Alastor’s hips.

“Show me how much you want my cock,” he ordered him, his tone light, casual.

The threat was implicit, but very real: if Alastor didn’t perform to his taste, his life would be forfeit.

He always knew this executioner gamble was risky, but that was the moment he realized how precarious his position truly was. For Lucifer, ordering someone to die was as mundane an act as eating. With how mercurial his mood had been so far, there was no predicting his reactions with any accuracy.

One wrong move and Alastor would be dead.

He wasn’t a virgin, but it was his first time riding anyone’s dick. He had topped and bottomed before, but, when it was the latter, he would let his partner take the lead. He had no experience to rely on and no instinct to take the wheel from him.

His pride was the least of his worries. His life was on the line.

Gritting his teeth, his lips turned down in a frown, his cheeks wet, Alastor tentatively moved his hips. His nails pushed against Lucifer’s skin, but they didn’t sink in. Just as Lucifer couldn’t harm him, he, too, couldn’t hurt him.

Alastor would have no scars from this, and he similarly couldn’t mark Lucifer. At that moment, it didn’t feel like a kindness at all.

His performance must not have been adequate, because Lucifer manifested his leash and pulled on it. Alastor fell forward with another yelp, but Lucifer’s cock stayed inside him, hot and branding. Alastor straightened up again, only to growl at the amused smile on Lucifer’s lips.

He never wanted to kill someone more.

He was that close to summoning his angelic blade and plunging it in Lucifer’s chest, but he refrained. He barely arrived at the palace this morning. He had so much to learn about Hell’s court and politics. All his plots and his scheming relied on Lucifer’s continued existence, no matter how much it pained him.

He could get through this. He had to.

Alastor swallowed it all, the tears, the bile, the horror, the shame. He forced a tenuous smile on his face and moved with more aplomb. You’re never fully dressed without a smile, and he desperately needed some clothes about now.

Lucifer kept the leash visible on his skin. The cold metal around his neck made it hard to breath, but Alastor persevered.

He would do anything to survive.

Summoning all his spite, all his anger, Alastor moved as fast as he could. Soon enough, he found himself moaning, with his dick leaking precum. His teeth almost broke in his mouth, but, through sheer force of will, he made Lucifer come a third time, adding wetness inside him.

It shouldn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, but he despised how sticky his entire body felt, inside and out. He didn’t usually mind when sex became messy, but this time it felt intolerable. He needed to get Lucifer out of his skin as soon as possible.

Unexpectedly, the king made the chain disappear. He put his right hand on Alastor’s hip and kept him seated on his softening cock. With his left, he reached Alastor’s oversensitive dick. It only took three strokes and Alastor came on his hand with a whimper.

Once more, Alastor was teleported away. In the blink of an eye, he was sitting at the table, fully dressed, but not cleaned. He blinked down at his half eaten steak, his ass still wet with cum.

All of it felt like a dream, and yet, his body remembered every detail vividly. Lucifer didn’t even do him the mercy of cleaning him, and it didn’t feel like Alastor was allowed to do it himself.

His hands shook when he grabbed the fork and the knife. He dropped them twice before he was able to cut another piece and put it in his mouth. The previously tender meat felt like concrete in his mouth, but he did his best to chew and swallow it.

Lucifer was sitting in front of him, one feet flat on the chair, the other dangling playfully. His cheek was pressed against his palm and he was looking at him with curiosity, back to wearing that pink monstrosity of a sweater. Alastor was once more hit by how much he looked like a child, with his rosy cheeks, his wide eyes, that platinum blond hair. He appeared so small, so nonthreatening, so innocent.

Staring into his red eyes, Alastor wondered how he should call what just happened. He had come in here expecting sex. He didn’t want it, but he knew it was coming, and he had made peace with it.

Lucifer couldn’t harm him. Naively, he had assumed it meant he couldn’t rape him.

Alastor decided he wouldn’t call it rape, because that would make him Lucifer’s victim. He was no one’s victim, he always made sure of that. Someday, he would prove it to Lucifer too.

Despite his resolution, the pressure in his chest remained, as well as the burn in his eyes.

“I hope your steak isn’t too cold,” Lucifer commented innocently.

Alastor looked down again. It would explain why the texture was harder than before, but not how it turned into sand in his mouth.

How long did that take? It had felt like an eternity, and yet, now that it was over, it felt like it lasted barely a second. Had it been minutes, hours? Days?

Alastor had to swallow and clear his throat twice before he could answer, “It’s still edible.”

Lucifer’s smile turned softer. “Good.”

Was that fondness in his eyes?

Lucifer snapped his fingers and his plate of pancakes disappeared. Alastor startled, but he did his best to smooth the movement of his shoulders. The king sipped on his sippy cup unbothered, and Alastor finished his steak and his wine.

He couldn’t for the life of him find a topic of conversation, but, thankfully, it didn’t look like Lucifer minded. His wide, blank eyes kept staring at him in silence, unreadable.

Alastor was hit with an epiphany: Lucifer looked like a doll, not a kid. His juvenile traits were uncanny because they looked painted on his frame. His rosy cheeks were two perfect circles, his hair was too blond, his skin was too white. He was the facsimile of a child haunted by the most evil of spirits.

Painfully, Alastor swallowed his last bite and put his cutlery down. As if he was waiting for this moment, Lucifer pushed his chair back and stood with a sigh. It was unclear if it was one of satisfaction or annoyance.

It turned out Alastor couldn’t read Lucifer at all. Out of everything he went through today, this was by far the scariest thought.

Lucifer walked around the table, gliding his fingertips on top of it. He hooked his foot around one leg of his chair to make Alastor face him, making his socks visible to him for the first time. They were pinks with little ducks on them. The sinner looked up as Lucifer leaned against the table, his eyes half lidded and his smile tight.

This expression, Alastor could read as clear as day, for he had seen it on many powerful men: pity.

“Awww, I didn’t scare you too much, did I?” Lucifer purred.

Gently, his hands cupped Alastor’s face. His thumbs rubbed on his cheeks as if he wanted to clean his tears. He was far too late for that: his cheeks had been dry for a while, leaving them raw. If anything, his loving touch chafed.

“I’m sorry I got impatient, honey,” Lucifer whispered earnestly.

The worst part was, he sounded like he meant every words. Alastor had to remind himself he was such a proficient liar he had his assistant fooled into thinking he was redeemable.

Lucifer caressed his way to his shoulders and pulled. It was gentle enough that Alastor could ignore it, but he decided he shouldn’t push his luck too far. He stood up as Lucifer hopped on the table.

Before he knew it, they were intertwined like two loving partners. Alastor was reminded of the scene he saw between Stolas and Blitzy. As everything to do with Lucifer, it was nothing but a twisted perversion.

Lucifer circled his shoulders and rubbed his upper back. His legs sweetly curved around Alastor’s hips. With his titled head, his parted lips, his closing eyes, what he was waiting for was evident.

Palms flat on the table, Alastor leaned down and kissed him.

Lucifer hummed in the kiss, but he let him take the lead. Alastor trod his mouth like uncharted waters, noting for the first time the sweetness of his spit. It tasted faintly of apples, honey, sweet with a tinge of bitterness. His tongue was slim, forked, slightly rough, and unfairly good. In other circumstances, Alastor could picture himself enjoying this kiss immensely. Some shameful part of him did.

After teasing his already bruised lower lip, Lucifer pulled back. His eyes shined when he looked up at him through his eyelashes. He was pretty like a doll, ethereal, otherworldly, almost fragile. Alastor wanted to crush him to dust with his bare hands.

“That’s better, right?” He asked, barely above a whisper.

Alastor didn’t feel like answering, so he dove right back in. Lucifer chuckled in his mouth, but he didn’t protest.

In contrast with earlier, the rest happened slowly. Lucifer moved his hands to his hair and caressed his ears adeptly. Alastor’s hands moved from the table to his hips, his lower back. As they kissed, Alastor felt his body settle down.

Lucifer pushed him back and hopped down from the table. He took his hand to guide him towards the bed. Alastor followed after him, his lips tingling. The king fell back on the mattress and pulled him along.

Alastor landed between his opened legs, his hands besides his hips. Lucifer was smiling up at him, almost tender, almost benevolent. His hair circled his face like a halo on the white pillowcase.

The king reached for his face again. He caressed his cheek softly, with undeniable fondness. Alastor had to remind himself everything was a game to him and this wasn’t real, but his body didn’t believe him.

“You can do whatever you want to me, Al,” Lucifer lied oh so sweetly.

Alastor thought about his angelic blade. He imagined plunging his hands in his chest and pulling out his heart. He salivated at the thought of eating it while it was still beating. His body would become a lifeless doll Alastor would devour until nothing was left.

What he did was unbutton his shirt slowly. Lucifer helped him between kisses. They paraded as lovers by divesting each other of their clothes with care, until they were once more naked.

Alastor was about to ask for lube when Lucifer made a bottle appear in his hand. He dropped a generous amount on his fingers and searched for Lucifer’s hole. He pushed a finger inside him and Lucifer moaned encouragingly.

As he prepped him, Lucifer showered him with praises and sweet nothings. Alastor didn’t speak. He stared at Lucifer’s small body on the large bed, wondering why he was playing this game. Was he trying to lower his guard to take him by surprise once more?

Perhaps Alastor was thinking too much, and Lucifer was merely doing what he wanted when he wanted it. Taking everyone by force would be boring. He must yearn to be wanted sometimes too.

Alastor didn’t want him, but it was far too easy to pretend. Some part of him did want Lucifer more than life itself, but not in this manner.

Once he judged him ready, Alastor lubed his own dick and pushed inside him. The king sighed in satisfaction when he bottomed down and grabbed his shoulders to keep him from moving. Alastor obliged, nibbling at his throat. He couldn’t leave a love bite, but Lucifer seemed to appreciate the attention anyway.

When Lucifer’s grip relented, Alastor moved his hips.

His lover groaned, moaned, called his nickname in a honeyed voice. Alastor wasn’t confused anymore by what was happening. He understood where he was, what Lucifer was doing, what was expected of him. There was no violence and his chain remained unsummoned. It would be easy to delude himself into thinking he wanted this. His traitorous body sure seemed convinced of it.

When he could tell he was close, he grabbed Lucifer’s dick and jerked him off. The king scratched at his back without drawing blood. Alastor made sure he came before he let himself orgasm inside him.

He pulled out and rolled besides his lover. Lucifer showed him his back and guided his arm over him. Alastor spooned him as the blanket was pulled over them by magic.

With their bodies pressed together, Lucifer asked him in a paternal voice, “Do you feel better?”

He hated that he did. Taking the lead stilled his quivers, and Lucifer’s welcoming body quieted his shame. He wasn’t about to fall in love, and he certainly didn’t want to kill him any less, but he could feel the sting of their first time being smoothed down to something more palatable in his mind. Lucifer had rewritten that memory for him and Alastor had let him.

Closing his eyes, Alastor decided to admit the truth, “Yes.”

Lucifer chuckled. For the first time since he died, Alastor felt incredibly young. Compared to Lucifer’s eons of existence, Alastor’s measly thirty four years was nothing. Lucifer might look like a child, but Alastor was the one playing a game he didn’t understand and being soothed when he lost.

In hindsight, taking this deal had been incredibly naive on his part, but he decided not to regret it. He clung to the fact that he had an infinite amount of magic at his fingertips, and he was in a position of power that would allow him to use it to his heart’s content.

Lucifer might be able to play him like a fiddle, but Alastor was patient. He could learn how to navigate his mercurial mood swings. All he missed was information. If he played along, locked all his emotions in a box and threw away the key, Alastor could gather all he needed to overthrow Lucifer and take his throne.

Alastor always bit more than he could chew, but with dedication, cunning and perseverance, he turned it into manageable bites and swallowed it all. There was no reason this time couldn’t be the same.

In barely no time, Lucifer’s breathing deepened. Carefully, Alastor leaned over him to see his sleeping expression. He spotted Lucifer’s duck plushie and put it in his arms. The king hugged it in his sleep and mumbled something Alastor didn’t understand, but he didn’t wake up.

Now convinced he could leave, Alastor stood from the bed, dressed up and moved to his room in his shadows. He had a spacious en suite bathroom. Alastor stepped in the shower and cleaned himself with vigor.

He didn’t have a shower when he was alive, and certainly not in his shitty apartment. This was a luxury to him, as much of the palace’s amenities, but he was certainly grateful for it. It was far quicker and left him feeling a lot cleaner than using a cloth.

He stepped out of the shower only to fill the bath. He spotted the bubble bath and poured a generous amount before soaking in it. Closing his eyes, he let the hot water sooth his body. Despite the day he had, he couldn’t truly hate his present predicament if it afforded him all this.

Alastor tried to think about his future plans, but his brain could only focus on the enigma that was Lucifer. He wanted to unravel him and look at his core. He needed to know everything there was to know about him, not only his past, but what made him tick, what motivated his every actions.

It wasn’t about killing him anymore. He only wanted to end his life once he would be able to read him like an open book.

After he almost fell asleep in his bath, Alastor stood and dried himself. He was planning to go to bed, but his gaze was attracted to the full length mirror inside the bathroom. He stopped in front of it, fully naked.

He had detailed his appearance thoroughly when he woke up in Hell, but he didn’t take the time to check since he signed his deal. He checked to make sure, but nothing changed. There was no trace of Lucifer on his body.

He tried to manifest the chain around his neck, but it didn’t work. Only his owner could make it appear.

Alastor smiled at himself like he always did. He craved a cigarette and a whiskey. Dressing himself up, he moved to his couch and made both appear in his hands. No matter what happened to him, this power would never stop being convenient.

He lit the cigarette and took a drag, then sipped the whiskey. It was by far the best he ever smoke and drank, and he had no idea where it came from.

After spending some time in silent contemplation, he made a radio appear and turned the dial until he found jazz music. He would usually use that time to read, but he felt too unsettled to focus on a book.

Instead, he let the calm music sooth his soul.

Chapter Text

Alastor awoke in his comfortable bed with visions of red eyes lingering at the edge of his consciousness. His subconscious didn’t do him any favors: his sleep was riddled with confusing stress dreams about the owner of his soul.

To dispel those feelings, he took the time to appreciate the silk sheets and the warm blanket. Unlike Lucifer, he didn’t have a plushie, but he did have an impressive amount of pillows. He had been hugging one in his sleep without realizing, but gave himself permission to remain that way for a bit longer. If yesterday was any indication for his new life, he should allow himself all the comfort he could get.

His stomach growled. Alastor could smell food and, even more amazingly, coffee. That last one pushed him to sit up and rub the sleep from his face.

As he stood up, he magically cleaned his body and put on a brand new suit. Instead of red stripes, he went for pink today, with black and white accents. His mic manifested in his hand on its own, and Alastor glanced down at it. Because of the whole incident with Lucifer, he didn’t take the time to properly examine it. He was pretty sure he had a handle on his shadows by now, and summoning things was very intuitive, but his sound related powers remained obscure to him.

He should get on that today, but later. Alastor made it the living room part of his quarters. On the table was laid out a feast once more. He wasn’t very comfortable about the fact that someone could walk into his room without him noticing, but it came with living in the palace. Privacy was not an option.

He sat down and served himself a cup of coffee from the carafe. It was warm, which meant the food was brought in recently.

Alastor ate a couple bites before remembering his usual morning habit. He wasn’t brought a newspaper, but it was easy for him to summon one. When he saw what appeared in his hands, he wished he hadn’t.

On the front page of The Daily Fix was a picture of him, from the back, being kissed by Lucifer. The hands on his behind were circled in red with obnoxious arrows pointing to it. In big bold letters was written, Lucifer got that ass.

The paper ripped in his clasped hands, but Alastor paid it no mind and read the article in its entirety. As expected, it was riddled with outrageous claims about him, but at least they got his name right.

One of the first sinners he tried to kill kept calling him Alistair. If he could remember what they looked like, he would hunt them down and kill them properly, but alas.

Since nobody talked to him, the article was filled with unfair and obscene speculations. Alastor would have to remedy those assumptions, but he didn’t imagine doing an interview would help. He would need to find a better way to strike fear in the heart of the populace.

For now, Alastor read the newspaper in its entirety, but his ascent was the only important news in it.

With a sigh, he made it disappear and drank a second cup of coffee. He didn’t eat a lot, but he wasn’t feeling hungry anymore. He tried to quiet his mind and mentally prepare for the day, but, instead, he kept seeing Lucifer’s face every time he blinked. Out of all the expressions he showed him the day before, the one that stuck to him the most was his look of pity.

Alastor finished his cup and decided enough was enough. It wasn’t doing him any favor to linger here and mope. He had plans to get in motion, and he needed more information in order to formulate them.

Standing tall, Alastor moved in front of his mirror to give himself a silent pep talk. His confidence pushed his chest up and widened his smile. He became the most powerful sinner in less than two weeks. He had something to be proud about, but he also knew there were were many exploits in his future.

The name Alastor would be remembered for eons, but only spoken in whispers, like Lucifer’s. That was why he was here.

With a grandiose gesture, Alastor sank in his shadows and moved about the palace. There was a lot left to explore, but he had a specific destination in mind.

It was about time he spoke to a certain owl demon.

He found Stolas in his office, already sitting down at his desk. There was a cooling cup of coffee sitting on his right as he was perusing documents and writing down notes. He was using a beautiful fountain pen, made of a material Alastor didn’t recognize. It looked like it contained stars and galaxies in it.

“Good morning,” Alastor exclaimed, manifesting out of his shadows without warning.

Stolas startled so badly he tipped over his mug. Since he predicted that reaction, Alastor caught it with his shadow before its coffee could spill all over his precious paperwork.

“What the...” Stolas started. He trailed off when his eyes landed on him.

Alastor hummed, then extended his hand over the desk. “We haven’t had the opportunity of speaking yet. My name is Alastor, I’m the new executioner.”

Stolas looked at his hand dubiously. He put his pen down and shook it with no conviction at all. Alastor pulled back one of the two guest chairs and sat down to make sure Stolas understood he wasn’t leaving any time soon.

“I’m Stolas,” the Goetic demon blurted out. “The chancellor.”

Alastor crossed his legs. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Stolas chuckled. He looked uncomfortable, with his eyes darting around. Alastor wondered if he was the source of his stress or if he acted awkwardly with every new person he met. His demeanor was in stark contrast with how at ease he had been with Blitzy.

“So, um,” Stolas started over. He cleared his throat, then straightened up his papers, no doubt to give himself countenance. “I assume you’re here to ask about your job.”

“I was hoping you could explain my duties to me,” Alastor expended. He rolled his mic around his hand. “Lucifer wasn’t very…” he paused to look for the right word and landed on, “forthcoming, with his expectations of me.”

Stolas let out a strained laugh. “I don’t imagine he was,” he confirmed. “Father never tells his executioners anything. I’m always the one who has to explain their role to them.”

“Father?” Alastor repeated with interest.

“He’s not...” Stolas tried to explain and stuttered over his words, “He, um, Father adopted me.”

Alastor nodded. He could tell there was a lot more to it by how flustered he was. Nevertheless, he didn’t insist when Stolas moved on.

“There are duties you will be asked to perform, but the most important one is to kill people when Lucifer asks for it. You will have to follow him every time he leaves the palace, but that shouldn’t become a problem. He rarely does, and, when he will, he’ll summon you himself.”

“I don’t need to manage his schedule?” Alastor wondered. He knew the answer, but wanted to hear it.

“That’s part of my duties,” Stolas confirmed. “I take care of both of your schedules. If there’s something you need to do, I will let you know, but you shouldn’t be asked to do much more than entertain Father. Except for one thing.”

“One thing?”

Instead of answering, Stolas leaned back in his chair, and his expression turned melancholic. He turned to look outside. Alastor peered at the window too, but he could only see the garden and nothing of note.

When Stolas’ eyes landed back on him, they were filled with a sadness that was almost overwhelming. And yet, Alastor could also read an impressive amount of love in it. Since those emotions couldn’t be aimed at him, he must be thinking about someone. Lucifer? Or perhaps someone else entirely?

Stolas closed his eyes, sighed, then put his hands on his desk to push himself standing. “I better show you.”

Intrigued, Alastor stood up too. He wanted to ask more questions, but Stolas sent him a look that begged him not to ask. Alastor’s interest was piqued, to say the least.

The chancellor lead him outside the office. The two guards didn’t show any surprise at this unexpected guest. Stolas greeted them by name before walking away, with Alastor one step behind.

They walked in silence, traversing the palace until they arrived in a wing Alastor didn’t explore yet. When he asked, Stolas explained that they were in the east wing. Lucifer and him lived in the south wing along with all the guest rooms, Stolas’ office and most of the employees quarters were in the north wing, and the west wing was reserved for the King’s army. The throne room was in the middle of it all. The main entrance was on the west side, which explained why his soldiers were there.

“What is the east wing for?” Alastor pondered out loud.

“It has many uses,” Stolas evaded his question.

Alastor decided not to press further. Stolas was no doubt leading him to the most important answer. He could gather the rest later.

Finally, they stopped in front of a door. The Chancellor took in a deep breath to steel himself. Whatever was on the other side, he was dreading it. Alastor was about to push the door himself to sate his curiosity when Stolas grabbed the handle and turned it.

The last thing Alastor expected was to step inside a classroom.

Perhaps that was a bit of a misnomer. There was only one school desk with a single student seated at it. The professor, another Goetic demon, was standing in front of a blackboard. She had an ornate desk for her own use, although she wasn’t using it at present. Alastor glanced at the blackboard, where she had written letters.

“Stella,” Stolas called to her in a tentative voice.

“Stolas,” she answered with a surprising amount of venom.

He cleared his throat again. “I’m here with the new executioner.”

Alastor stepped up and presented his hand to her. “My name is Alastor.”

She offered her hand with a look of distaste. Alastor nevertheless took it and dropped a kiss on her knuckles. She pulled it back as soon as she could and turned her attention back to the chancellor.

“Couldn’t you have come after class?” She hissed.

“It’s not going to take long,” he retorted.

As they bickered, Alastor turned his attention to the student. She was a small Goetic demon who looked to be around six years old. She was staring right back at him with wide eyes, curious but too polite to speak without permission.

Alastor was about to walk up to her when Stolas put an end to his debate with the teacher. He took a few steps and knelt down besides the girl with practiced ease. Patting her head, he told her, “Via, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Who is it, Daddy?”

Alastor watched as Stolas’ entire body stilled. He forced himself to relax and caressed her hair once more. In a gentle tone, he explained to her, “Darling, I’m not your Daddy anymore, remember?”

“I know,” she pouted.

“I’m your big brother now,” Stolas went on.

“Big brother Stolas,” Via intoned like a lesson.

“And Stella is your teacher.”

“Mrs Stella,” she repeated obediently.

“You remember who your Daddy is, don’t you, sweetie?” Stolas asked.

He was doing his best to hide his distress from his daughter, but Alastor could tell she picked up on it.

“Daddy Lucifer,” the little girl confirmed. “He gives me duckies.”

Stolas let out a sigh of relief and his entire body slumped. “Yes, he does,” he acquiesced with a chuckle.

The girl glanced behind her father turned big brother and her eyes landed on Alastor once more. He kept his smile tight but welcoming, utterly fascinated by what he was learning.

Stolas glanced back too, but came back to Via. He let go of her hair to take her hand. Gently, he gestured towards Alastor.

“I wanted you to meet your new Mommy.”

Once more, Alastor was taken completely by surprise. He couldn’t help but wish Stolas prepared him more for this, because nowhere in his deal did it even hint at him having to take care of a child. He would have never taken this job if he had any idea it entailed him becoming a parent. He hated children and wanted nothing to do with them.

As if this news wasn’t enough, the girl burst into tears.

In answer, Stolas stood and picked her up. He whispered reassurances to her, but Alastor didn’t feel like listening. Stella glared at the entire scene in disapproval, her arms crossed.

Alastor used the break to clear his head and make sense of what was going on. This little girl was without a doubt Stolas and Stella’s biological child, but, for some unknown reason, Lucifer decided to adopt her. Because they shared the same father now, he made Stolas her big brother, and then kept Stella around as her teacher.

One other thing was clear: Stolas and Stella hated each other. Alastor wondered if it had anything to do with Blitzy. Were they even married, or did they have Via out of wedlock? Was Stolas cheating on her, and was she aware? Perhaps this bit of blackmail would be even more useful than he expected.

It then hit him that this was the task Stolas had been hinting at. Being Via’s mother was part of his executioner’s duties. Why? Because he was Lucifer’s lover? Wasn’t there someone better qualified for this? For that matter, why did Lucifer need to be her dad when her two parents were able and willing to take care of her?

Stolas’ soothing worked and Via calmed down. He set her down and gave her a handkerchief to clean up and blow her nose. Her face was all blotted when she looked at her father and whined, “I want Mommy!”

Since Stella was right there and available, she must be talking about Husky. This was becoming confusing.

A look of pain passed on Stolas’ face, but he forced a smile and explained, “I’m sorry, my little owlet, Husk isn’t here anymore.”

His real name was Husk. Was everyone using nicknames around here? Would he find out Via wasn’t her real name either?

“Because he passed away?” Via asked, sniffling.

Stolas hugged her again. Lower, he admitted to her, “I miss him too.”

They cried together. Stella grunted something under her breath and stepped outside. As for Alastor, he stayed frozen in place, once more confused by a situation that was moving too fast for him.

Images from last night flashed before his eyes: Lucifer looking down at him with pity, contempt. The enigmatic king adopted children and forced their parents into different caring roles. Did he do that with Stolas too? Did he steal him from his parents and made them pretend to be other people with him?

He might be the Devil, but that was on a whole new level of entitlement.

More importantly, Alastor hated how he had been trapped without his knowledge not only in the role of Lucifer’s lover, but apparently his wife. Were they supposed to pretend they were one happy family? Had Alastor no choice but to treat this little, sniveling bird demon as his daughter?

He had half a mind to storm out of the room too, but there was no fleeing this responsibility. Lucifer could summon him no matter where he went. Even if he managed to flee the palace, he would be brought right back in by Lucifer.

His pretend husband. Alastor wanted to throw up.

He very nearly did, but he swallowed the nausea down. Alastor wasn’t even allowed the decency of being this girl’s father: he had to be her caring mother.

This was all a sick game to Lucifer.

He didn’t need to become her mother, Alastor reminded himself. He only needed to pretend.

When Stolas let go of the girl and she looked up at him expectantly, Alastor knelt down and opened his arms to her.

“Nice to meet you, Via,” Alastor insisted, his voice sickly sweet.

The girl kept staring at him, her eyes wet. Tentatively, she stepped in his arms. Alastor hugged her and rubbed her head in what he hoped was a comforting manner.

He let go and she pulled back, her expression unsure. “Nice to meet you too, new Mommy,” she conceded.

She smiled, but it didn’t look genuine. She had been forced to deny her real mother and got attached to a new mother figure who then died. Alastor figured it would take her a while to warm up to him, if she ever did. There was always the chance she would hate him once she learned he was Husk’s killer.

Stolas was looking at her with pride, but there was no denying the pain in his eyes. Alastor could only imagine what this entire situation would do to a person’s psyche.

“I’m gonna let you study now, Princess,” Stolas declared. Alastor heard him swallow a sob at the last word.

“See you later, Daddy,” Via waved at him. It was only once she was at her desk that she remembered, “Big brother! Sorry.”

Stolas sniffled. “It’s okay, sweetheart, I’m not mad,” he promised to her, patting her head one last time. “Just be sure you don’t make the same mistake with your real Daddy, okay?”

She beamed up at him. “Promise!”

“Good girl,” Stolas praised her, and then he stepped out of the room.

Alastor followed him, passing Stella who went back in. She eyed him disapprovingly. It was hard to tell if she was angry at the situation in general or Alastor in particular. Perhaps it was a bit of both.

The walk back to Stolas’ office was silent. They both needed time to think.

While Alastor sat back on the comfortable chair and fidgeted with his mic, Stolas opted to stay standing. He leaned against the window with an exaggerated sigh and looked longingly outside. It was easy to tell he wanted to be anywhere but here. His life must feel unbearably complicated.

“Can you tell me why?”

Alastor planned to add more words to this question, but he couldn’t decide on what he wanted to know more. Fortunately, the answer he got made most of his questions obsolete.

Stolas turned to him, anguish and fierce pride burning in his eyes. “My little Via’s going to be the next chancellor.”

He caressed the window longingly with his fingertips. Leaning his cheek on it, he explained, “Every thirty years or so, Father chooses one child in my vast family and gives them a special education. I was chosen among my many siblings and cousins, and Father did me the honor of choosing my only child when he could have taken any of her cousins.”

He called it an honor, but it felt like a sick joke to Alastor. He shuddered to think this was what Lucifer’s love looked like. He certainly hoped he would never be in the position to find out for himself.

“Father did me a favor,” Stolas went on with tremors in his voice. “I wasn’t a good enough father to her. He’ll do a far better job than I ever could.”

More than his words, Alastor was struck by how much he meant them. He truly viewed Lucifer as his father, and a good one at that. He wasn’t pretending: he loved him.

Now Alastor knew why he had been taken in by Lucifer’s game with Husk. The king had been playing him for his entire life, manipulating his emotions and twisting his mind until he could see good where there was nothing but evil.

Stolas cleared his throat and pushed away from the window to face him again. “Father adopts children sometimes. She’s the only one presently, but others might join her. The east wing is entirely dedicated to their education, living quarters, and everything else they need.”

Like a boarding school, Alastor thought but didn’t say. He wasn’t sure Stolas would have the reference, since he spent all his life in Hell.

“Father is a busy man. He can’t take care of their education on his own, but he does try to be present as much as he can. He loves kids.”

He seemed to get lost in a happy memory. Alastor wondered what kind of love Lucifer showed his kidnapped children, and if it had anything to do with Stolas’ unnerving loyalty to him.

Stolas shook his head and sent him an uncertain look. “Father insists his executioner acts as their mother, no matter their gender. The ones who refuse to do it, well...”

He didn’t need to say it. They both knew what fate they met.

Sitting back down, Stolas took his papers and fiddled with them. Alastor noticed his hands were shaking. “That’s all you need to know, I think. Do you have any questions?”

Alastor had many, but none that seemed pertinent to ask. He had been considering letting him know he discovered his affair, but it didn’t seem like the right time anymore. Perhaps it would be more effective if he would drop the knowledge on him when he needed to, after all.

“Am I expected to visit her often?” Alastor blurted out.

He wanted to take the question back, but Stolas had already latched onto it.

His smile was wistful. “Husk visited her every day. He would read her bedtime stories and share her meals when he could.”

There was no world in which he dedicated that much time to a brat, no matter how important she was to Lucifer. Stolas seemed to realize this, because he dropped his smile. In a far less dreamy voice, he suggested, “Once a week should be enough.”

Alastor nodded. He could manage that frequency. He wasn’t sure what he could do to make Via like him, but he had a whole week to figure it out.

Stolas eyed him. Alastor never thought he held especially warm feelings for him, but he could tell his gaze had become colder since this morning. Perhaps Stolas hated him for killing Husk, or he thought he wouldn’t make a good mother for Via, or he was worried he would be a bad influence on Lucifer. Maybe it was a mix of all three.

One thing was sure, though: Alastor didn’t make himself an ally today. As they stared at each other, he realized he might have in fact made himself an enemy.

“If that’s all,” Stolas reiterated in a glacial tone. “I have business to attend to.”

“I’ll take my leave, then,” Alastor agreed.

Instead of sinking in his shadows, he walked out of the door. Only once was he outside did he teleport to his quarter. He had planned to follow Stolas around for the day, but, frankly, he needed space to process everything.

It wasn’t even lunch yet, but he could go right back to sleep. He fell on his couch and stared at the ceiling for a long, long time.

Alastor never wanted to be tied down. He spent his life yearning for freedom. He played powerful men in order to bring them down from their pedestal. He never wanted to settle down, marry, have kids. It was all beneath him.

He wanted to sit alone on his throne. He had no need for a partner or children, especially now that he could live forever.

Was all of this power worth this gilded cage?

Alastor stared down at his mic. He still had to figure out how it worked. Instead, he threw it at the wall and proceeded to unleash all of his anger on his room.

Screaming, he scratched out everything until all that was left unscathed was himself. Falling on his knees, Alastor plunged his nails in the floor, tears of frustration welling in his eyes.

In many ways, this was worst than Lucifer’s abuse. At least, he had gone in last night expecting sex. He got more than he bargained for, but he was prepared for it.

The role he had been given today was the one of his own mother: placating an abusive husband and raising his child. As much as he loved her, he had promised himself never to become her. He spent his life bringing men like his father down, only to be trapped by one of them.

His plans couldn’t be worth it. Surely, Alastor could find power in other ways. He could make deals, become an overlord. It wasn’t worth it.

Nothing was worth this.

Alastor stood with a brand new resolve. He brought his angelic dagger out of where he stashed it and teleported to Lucifer’s quarters. He found him eating his lunch alone. It was fittingly childish: mac and cheese.

Alastor’s tears fell down his cheeks as he stood silently behind Lucifer. Without a word of warning, he raised the dagger and plunged it in his chest. It went in with surprising facility.

Lucifer gasped wetly and spat blood. Alastor felt his hands becoming warm with a dizzying glee. Lucifer was dying. Alastor killed him.

It was done. His father was dead. Lucifer was dead.

Alastor dragged his body to the floor and, after making that atrocious sweater disappear, descended on it like a feral animal. For all he had consumed humans before, he always harvested their meat and cooked it. He might prefer his steaks rare, but he never ate them raw.

This time, he was possessed by a rage that overtook him. He wasn’t himself anymore as he tore into flesh with his knife and ate it. Once it was disconnected from Lucifer’s body, he could easily chew and swallow it all.

He never tasted anything better before. Lucifer was sweet, tangy, juicy, and just bitter enough to be insanely addicting. Alastor felt his entire body thrum as he ate, and ate, and ate. The king’s heart wasn’t beating anymore when he plunged his fangs inside it, but it filled his mouth with sweet, sweet blood.

His only disappointment was that his blood sparkled golden. Alastor’s dream of painting him in red was crushed, but at least he got to eat his heart.

Alastor didn’t touch his limbs. Once he ate all of his internal organs, he leaned back and breathed. His head spun with what he had accomplished. The euphoria was so intense it made him lightheaded.

Lucifer was dead. Alastor had killed the most powerful white man he ever met. He wasn’t his mother. Unlike her, he could protect himself and be victorious.

Alastor’s laughter filled the room. His delirious glee was halted when he heard another chuckle join in.

With a sense of impending doom, Alastor looked down. Lucifer’s body regenerated before his very eyes. He hadn’t touched his face in his feeding frenzy, and he could see the light coming back in his eyes.

“You really thought that would kill me?”

Alastor stared. His brain couldn’t register what was happening. His victory was snatched out of his hands, his only hope for a future along with it.

“You thought nobody tried it before,” Lucifer growled. His body was healing fast. “You thought you were the first one to use an angelic blade on me.”

Lucifer sat up with a grunt, even if he missed a good chunk of his stomach. He reached for Alastor, who was still frozen in place. Grabbing him by the shoulder, he pushed his face in kissing distance and informed him, “Do you know who tried to stab me with an angelic blade for the first time?”

All Alastor could see was the madness in his eyes.

“It was me,” he revealed, breathless. “I spent more time trying to kill myself than you can conceive.”

Alastor swallowed painfully. Lucifer’s words stamped themselves in his brain, but he couldn’t process them yet.

“Decades, Al. Centuries. Thousands of years using my power, angelic steel, Hellfire, poison, fucking gravity. Nothing works.”

Unexpectedly, he chuckled, and his expression softened. “You’re welcome to try as much as you want, honey, but it won’t work. If I could die, I would be dead.”

Lucifer kissed him. Alastor was too dumbfounded to do anything but let him. Soon enough he was on his back, with Lucifer curled on top of him like a cat.

“Don’t worry, I don’t mind,” Lucifer whispered between two kisses. “You can kill me again and again and again and again…”

Alastor closed his eyes. A loud buzzing in his ears drowned out Lucifer, but still he felt his tongue in his mouth.

He couldn’t let this moment break him. Alastor had to wake up, get up and find his resolve. He could get out of this. He always did. Nobody was untouchable. There had to be a method out there to kill Lucifer for real, and Alastor would find it, even if it took him millennia.

He could play Lucifer’s game, be his wife, raise his kids, because he wasn’t his mother. His mother gave up, but he never would. Alastor would persevere no matter what. That was the promise he swore to himself when he killed his father.

Summoning all his strength, Alastor opened his eyes and sat up. Lucifer let him, but stayed on his lap. His smile was satisfied. He wrapped his arms around him in a tender embrace, but Alastor stayed placid.

“I met Via today,” he informed his owner.

He chuckled. Leaning his face against his shoulder like a cat, Lucifer asked, “She’s cute, isn’t she? So polite and hard working.”

“I’m supposed to be her mother,” Alastor explained further. He felt strangely empty, as if those words meant nothing to him.

Lucifer pulled back to meet his eyes. His were full of mirth. “I’m her father after all, aren’t I?” In a teasing tone, he added, “Honey!”

“What about Stolas?” Alastor wondered. He barely felt his body. Was it even him talking?

“Sweet Stolas,” Lucifer repeated with something close to pride. “I knew I was right to choose him. He became an amazing chancellor, but he was always a good son.”

“Am I his mother too?”

“He’s a grown boy,” Lucifer retorted with a bit of snark. “I’m sure he can take care of himself. He was the one helping you around today, wasn’t he?”

Alastor saw himself nod. The only thing he could feel was a tingle at his fingertips. Lucifer’s weight on him, all of his sweet and teasing touches, seemed to have vanished.

“Hey, honey, wanna nap with me this afternoon? I can tell you need the rest.”

Alastor didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. Lucifer teleported them to his bed. This time, Alastor was the little spoon to Lucifer’s big one. To palliate for his height, Lucifer summoned all of his wings and engulfed Alastor in them. There was no light coming in, no openings to take advantage of, no hope of escape.

Alastor felt the feathers with his fingertips. The bars of his prison were soft, but no less unyielding.

Despite everything, or perhaps because of everything, Alastor fell asleep in seconds, embraced by Lucifer’s arms, cocooned in his wings, suffocated by his warmth.

Chapter Text

Alastor woke up groggy. He blinked multiples times, but it was hard to tell if his eyes were opened or not, because everything was pitch black. His naked skin was slick with sweat, and there was a heavy pressure on his chest. The air was dense with warmth and humidity, making it hard to breath. His back burned.

“You’re finally waking up,” a warm voice teased him.

Swallowing was painful. Alastor came to the slow realization that his lower body was moving. He concentrated on the sensation until it dawned on him.

He wasn’t moving: Lucifer was fucking him.

Alastor gasped. Now that he understood what was happening, the branding heat of Lucifer’s dick moving inside him was impossible to ignore. He had opted to use lube this time, and his thrusts were slow but deep. Although he was loathed to use it, the only word that came to mind to explain his rhythm was ‘tender’.

The pressure on his chest was Lucifer’s hands, pressing him closer to his body, the heat in his back.

Lucifer chuckled against his skin. He was nibbling on his shoulder and the nape of his neck. It should cause Alastor some pain, or at least discomfort, but it didn’t. Lucifer’s teeth couldn’t draw his blood, not even in a love bite.

As for the darkness and the heat, those were caused by Lucifer’s wings forming a shroud around them. Alastor pushed his palms against them, but he might as well have pushed against a concrete wall.

Lucifer sighed happily. “Sex is the best way to wake up, right, honey?”

When Alastor tried to answer, his throat was too tight. All that came out was a pitiful moan.

“You don’t need to speak,” Lucifer went on in a sugary, cloying voice. “Let me take care of you.”

There was so much Alastor wanted to say, but he had no words to convey his meaning, no air to speak them. He closed his eyes, or were they still wide opened? He pushed his nails in the feathers, but his attempts at escape became a caress to Lucifer.

One of Lucifer’s hands traveled south. Alastor only realized he was hard when he felt fingers touch the tip of his dick.

“That’s it,” Lucifer whispered encouragingly. “Just relax and let me do everything.”

He didn’t have much of a choice. In the small ball of heat he was trapped in, there wasn’t any space to move. Lucifer hooked one leg over Alastor’s and slid his foot between his knees, effectively keeping him in place. He tried to struggle, but Lucifer’s strength was uncanny.

He could have used his shadows, but what would have been the point? He would only be delaying the inevitable, or, worst, signing his own death warrant.

More than anything, more than his comfort, his dignity, his pride, Alastor wanted to survive. His will to live was so ingrained inside him that it made his body calm down and accept Lucifer’s twisted version of love making.

As pleasure built inside his core, Alastor whimpered. He was grateful for the darkness. It spared him the humiliation of his surrender being seen and savored.

“That feels good, right?” Lucifer asked rhetorically.

He was hitting his sweet spot every time he plunged inside him, and his fingers deftly dealt the ultimate amount of pleasure with every single strokes. It was by far the most pleasurable sex had ever been to Alastor and he couldn’t enjoy it.

“You can come if you want,” Lucifer allowed him. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna stop.”

Biting his lower lip to hide his whimpering, Alastor came as instructed. It made Lucifer chuckle.

“I didn’t know you would be such a good boy. It’s kinda cute.”

Alastor didn’t have enough energy to become angry. All of it was concentrated on not dying. As long as he lived to see another day, there would always be options.

“Fuck, your body feels amazing too,” Lucifer went on praising him.

He was still jerking off his softening dick. What had felt pleasurable soured fast on his oversensitive skin, and every plunge inside him felt worst than the last. It stole what little breath Alastor had remaining, and yet, it still didn’t hurt him.

Lucifer didn’t stop fucking him, but, when he noticed his dick wasn’t hardening again, he stopped moving his fingers to cup his dick and balls. Even more than the fucking, it felt dehumanizing. Lucifer was reminding him of his claim on him by holding him in the most intimate place.

Alastor couldn’t help the tears falling in Lucifer’s feathers, but, with all the sweat soaking them, he could only hope they would go unnoticed.

After a second or an eternity, Lucifer came inside him with a groan. He took his time pulling out and kept Alastor in his stifling embrace. His breathing was labored, but, even so, he didn’t open his wings to let air in.

At least, he stopped grabbing his dick and balls and moved his hand higher again, on his chest. If it wasn’t for their naked, sweaty bodies sticking together, his cuddling would almost feel comforting.

Lucifer sighed and rubbed his face in his hair. Alastor kept scratching his wings, without success. His efforts were so uncoordinated he cut his own hands, and his blood went on to wet the feathers too. Comfortable in his afterglow, his lover didn’t notice.

Alastor was starting to believe he would be trapped in here forever, kept in the dark, overheated, his owner playing with his body like a sex doll, when he was suddenly hit with a bright light.

His eyes closed by reflex, and he had to keep them half lidded to get used to the light. When Alastor lost his balance, it made him realize he was standing. One look down confirmed he was wearing the same suit as before.

His skin didn’t feel sticky with sweat, he didn’t feel cum in his ass, there were no tears on his cheeks. He brought his hands up to examine them. The cuts were healing and his blood was long gone.

Letting his hands fall, Alastor looked up to find Lucifer’s smug expression. He was standing too, leaning in his space without touching him, his wings disappeared once more. They were at the foot of the bed, dressed and ready for the next activity of the day. Lucifer wore a suit this time, as white as his royal suit, but much less obnoxious. Instead of golden trims, all the accents were in red, giving it a much more appropriate esthetic for Hell. He looked less like a angel, but more like he belonged down here.

Alastor was looking forward to the time he would be used to Lucifer’s fast pace, because being moved around like a rag doll was unbearably disorienting.

Lucifer touched his elbow in a loving manner. Alastor startled and felt a shiver traverse his body, but his owner ignored his reaction.

“Via should be done with school by now,” Lucifer informed him. His eyes were bright and his smile soft. “I think she’s due a visit by her loving, doting parents.”

Lucifer didn’t formulate it like a question because it wasn’t.

Alastor cleared his throat. He wished he could have a moment alone to gather his thoughts and calm down, but it wasn’t an option.

“Of course,” Alastor agreed, his voice hoarse. “Lead the way.”

Lucifer grinned up at him, his face innocence incarnate, and took his hand. He linked their fingers together and teleported them away.

Alastor appeared in the classroom for the second time that day. Stella saw Alastor first and glared at him, but, when her eyes found Lucifer besides him, her expression mellowed considerably. You could even call what she showed the king a smile, if you were being generous.

“Your Majesty, I wasn’t expecting your visit,” she exclaimed, ignoring him entirely.

While she looked peeved to be interrupted again, she clearly didn’t feel as much hate for Lucifer as she did for Stolas, if she felt any at all. Her tone was cordial, almost warm.

“Sorry,” Lucifer apologized. “I thought you were done.”

Stella gripped her chalk tight enough to break it in half, but her face didn’t show her annoyance. “Don’t worry, your Majesty, I’m sure Octavia will be happy to spend time with her father.”

It turned out Via was a nickname too. Alastor wished there was a registry somewhere that could tell him the full names of everyone.

Interestingly, Lucifer didn’t get the nickname treatment, unlike everybody else. As far as Alastor knew, the only one who didn’t use an honorific was Husk, and he used his full name. He wondered if anyone called him ‘Lu’ or ‘Luci’.

The little girl didn’t scream in joy, but she stood up and dutifully walked up to them. Lucifer picked her up and kissed her head before asking, “How was your day, duckling?”

“Good,” she answered, unsure.

She didn’t look uncomfortable in his arms, or scared. Mostly, she appeared shy. It was clear that such an event didn’t happen often, but she didn’t perceive Lucifer’s presence as threatening in any way.

With a bright smile, he asked her, “Wanna go to the park before dinner?”

Her expression lit up and she started jumping up and down in his arms. “Yes!”

Lucifer chuckled fondly, then looked at Alastor. Octavia followed his gaze. Alastor examined both of their faces. While they appeared equally innocent, only one of them was.

Alastor stepped closer and rubbed the little girl’s back. He put his other hand on Lucifer’s shoulder. He didn’t think he managed to hide his wince perfectly, but at least Octavia seemed oblivious to it.

“It’s a beautiful day outside, it would be a shame not to take advantage of it.”

He didn’t see a window since Stolas’ office, but hopefully it didn’t start raining in the meantime. This classroom didn’t have any windows either, probably to avoid distractions.

Lucifer changed his hold on Octavia to carry her with one arm and slid the other around Alastor’s waist. They would look like one happy loving family from the outside. Alastor had to swallow bile.

They teleported outside. Lucifer pulled back to put his daughter down, but he rapidly came back to Alastor and took his elbow. The executioner followed his lead, taking the time to examine their surroundings.

Lucifer brought them to the garden Alastor could see from Stolas’ window. Contrary to the front garden, he noted the flagrant lack of statues. He could see some abstract sculptures, and little paths through many types of flowers. Towards the east, behind the palace, there was the beginning of a vast forest.

Octavia ran as soon as she was on her feet. Clearly, she had a destination in mind, and she knew how to get there. There were hedges separating the different sections, and she regularly disappeared behind a corner, but Lucifer didn’t show one ounce of worry. He walked at a leisurely pace to let Alastor admire his beautiful garden.

Thankfully, the girl periodically remembered their existence and took multiple breaks to let them catch up. She would stare at flowers in awe, crouch down to examine insects, or watch whatever else would catch a six years old’s interest.

It hit Alastor once more how much she didn’t look like a traumatized child, and in fact appeared pretty healthy. He wondered how long that would last.

While the palace was too gaudy to his taste, and the front of it was an eyesore, Alastor had to admit he loved this garden. It was less lavish, with a focus on plants instead of human constructs. Every corner of it was tasteful and well thought out, and the paths were all incredibly charming.

He wondered if this was closer to Lucifer’s actual tastes, and what he showed to the rest of Hell was exaggerated on purpose to inspire awe and fear.

As they turned one last corner, Alastor heard Octavia giggle in delight. They had reached their destination: the playground.

It contrasted with the rest of the garden by how brightly colored it was. All the structures were obnoxious colors, with a focus on the primary ones. Octavia was already climbing a pyramidal construction mostly made of cords. With surprising ease, she made it to the top, which was more than thirty feet above the ground.

There were many games for children to play: what looked like a mock train and a little house, monkey bars, too many slides, climbing walls, swings, and much more. It was big enough that Alastor couldn’t take all of it in from where he was standing.

In his stupor, he halted to a stop. Lucifer stayed at his side, a weight on his arm, and waited for him to speak.

“I have to admit, this is rather impressive,” Alastor breathed out.

When he was young, the only park he could go to had some pitiful excuse for a playground, all in faded colors and peeling paint. He used to spend hours alone on top of the slide. It was the only place he felt safe.

Alastor had forgotten that memory, but, now, it was all he could focus on. As he watched Octavia laughing brightly, he felt a pang of jealousy so intense it made him light headed. He would have loved to play here when he was a child, and now he had to watch the kid forced on him enjoy it without a care in the world.

Lucifer released his arm and took his hand instead. Alastor tore his eyes away from Octavia to find his owner was already one step in front of him. The pull was gentle, but firm. Alastor followed it without resisting.

He only let go of his hand when they made it to Octavia. She was in the train module. Lucifer climbed inside with her and easily jumped into her game. She was the conductor and made him a passenger.

Alastor was frozen. His mind was telling him to follow his owner and play the stupid game, but his body refused to cooperate.

It took Lucifer a couple minutes to notice Alastor wasn’t getting in his role. When they stepped out of the train to go to the little house besides it, he sent him a look. It wasn’t particularly cold or threatening, but its meaning was clear: if he didn’t join in soon, he would feel his wrath.

Alastor forced himself to swallow, and he made his lips curve up. He shouldn’t let such a benign event affect him so much. After being abused by Lucifer so thoroughly, this was nothing.

The problem was, he hated kids because he was never allowed to be one. Even when he visited that dilapidated playground, he never played. He would hide on top of the slide so nobody could find him. He would hug his body in the tiniest ball, close his eyes tight and wish he would disappear from this life that didn’t want him.

He had forgotten there was a time when he wanted to die. What made him change his mind, what drove him to live, what made him build stronger and better survival instincts, was that promise he made to himself, that he would never be his mother. He swore to himself he would hurt other people more than they could ever hurt him.

Alastor was that little kid again, and Lucifer his untouchable father. Hurting him was impossible, all his resolve futile. Pointless. The more he struggled and the more he sank into his web. If his only fate was to die either by Lucifer’s hands or his own, he knew what choice he wanted to make.

Tentatively, Alastor stepped inside the little house. Octavia looked up at him as if she didn’t know what to do with him. Lucifer and her were seated at a small table, and she was pouring imaginary tea in little teacups.

After hesitating, she picked a third teacup and set it down. The table was square, and they were sitting face to face. Alastor sat on the closest side, where the tiny teacup was waiting for him. His hand shook when he picked it up, but, under both of their intense gazes, he mimicked taking a sip.

“What a delightful tea. Thank you, dear,” Alastor let out. He didn’t manage to muster his cheeriest voice, but it was passable.

Octavia showed him a smile. “You’re welcome, Mommy.”

Lucifer fake sipped his imaginary tea and gasped. “Sweetie, this is the best tea I’ve ever tasted!”

She giggled.

They went on with this tea party until Octavia grew bored and stepped outside. She ran to the monkey bars. Alastor was about to follow her, but Lucifer stopped him with a hand on his arm. As they faced each other, Lucifer caressed his way to his shoulders and circled them. Alastor wrapped his arms around his waist by reflex.

“Thank you for playing along,” Lucifer told him before kissing him.

He kept the kiss soft, but it felt genuine. Alastor’s lips tingled as he pulled back. Lucifer had mastered the art of looking through his eyelashes to convey honesty. The glint in his eyes resembled love, the turn of his lips betrayed fondness, the yellow coloration around his rosy cheeks spoke of happiness.

“I love you, Al,” Lucifer confessed.

Alastor opened his mouth. The words came out of him like vomit. “I love you too, Lucifer.”

Lucifer’s face brightened. He pecked his lips again, then pulled away reluctantly. Grabbing his hand, he told him, “Let’s go take care of our daughter.”

He couldn’t answer. Alastor used all his willpower on speaking that fake confession out loud. Fortunately, Lucifer didn’t pay it any mind and led him away. His steps were light, and he was humming to himself. Happy, carefree.

Octavia played with the monkey bars for a long time. Lucifer stayed close to her, as if to catch her if she fell. She never did. Alastor hovered behind him, willing his heart to slow down, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. Stupidly, he wished he was someone like Husk or Stolas, naive enough to buy into Lucifer’s manipulations.

It might spell his doom, but at least he would die thinking he was loved.

The little girl moved to the swings. She asked for Alastor to push her. It was painfully obvious she only did so to include him. She thought he was being distant because he was shy. Some might find her willingness to help endearing, but it only frustrated Alastor more.

Nevertheless, he played his part.

Lucifer stepped in front of her. He made funny faces at her and walked closer when she was swinging back, only to run backwards when she swung forward. It made Octavia laugh so hard Alastor wondered if she would choke and die. He certainly wouldn’t be heart broken about it.

Unfortunately, she survived and went to another part of the playground.

They played like this for hours. Alastor was tired beyond belief. It was a relief when Lucifer brought him to sit at a nearby bench. Octavia had too much energy, even for a six years old. She would shout for them to look at what she was doing and they would assure her they were watching, but, otherwise, they stayed silent.

Lucifer claimed his hand as soon as they sat down. He brought it on his lap and held it with both of his. Gently, he fidgeted with his fingers. Once more, Alastor wished his nails could cut through his skin. He wanted to see his blood again.

Maybe he would feel better if he could have a taste of it.

After a long, peaceful break, Lucifer confessed, “I’m glad I chose you.”

I’m not, Alastor thought. It was the first time he let himself think the words, but he wasn’t about to say them out loud.

“I’m sorry about how I acted in the throne room,” the king went on, unbothered by his silence. “I have to pretend to be the Devil to keep people in check, but it’s all politics, I don’t mean any of it. I’m sure you understand.”

Lucifer’s eyes moved from their hands to his face. His smile was apologetic. “I also get these…” He sighed, as if it pained him to admit such a thing. “I suppose we could call them fits, or outbursts. It’s like I’m overwhelmed by emotions and I completely lose sight of who I am. That’s what happened yesterday during dinner. I never meant to...” He trailed off, as if overtaken by emotions.

Looking down, Lucifer leaned on his shoulder. He gathered his hand against his chest and brought his feet up on the bench.

“I know I can be hard to live with. I’m sorry if I don’t read your reactions right or I say the wrong thing. I’m trying to be better, but it’s not easy. I really do care about you, Al, I hope you won’t ever forget that.”

Out of everything, that was what broke Alastor.

It started with a single chuckle. Lucifer pulled back, intrigued. Alastor chuckled again, and again, until it became a full on belly laugh. Lucifer let go of his hand and he used both of them to hug his midsection. Tears of laughter fell down his cheeks.

Finally, Alastor calmed down with a sigh. He rubbed away his tears and faced Lucifer again. For the first time, he could read real, actual confusion on his expression. It was sweeter than the taste of his blood.

“This little act of yours might work on other people, but not me. I know what you’re doing, Lucifer. This is all a game to you.”

Lucifer’s jaw tightened. It was satisfying, to see anger in his eyes. Alastor might suffer for it later, but, for now, he felt incredibly vindicated.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’ll play along,” Alastor insisted. It was gratifying to feel his resolve coming back to him, along with his will to live. “I’ll pretend to be your wife, I’ll even become a good mother to Via.” The nickname came out by reflex, but Alastor didn’t correct it. “But I’ll never believe in your lies, so do me a favor and cut the fucking bullshit.”

Lucifer pushed himself up and loomed over him. Alastor watched him change into his demonic form, his skin becoming black, the horns pushing out of his forehead, his immense wings obscuring all the light and his tail swinging behind him. Alastor would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared, but it was satisfying to know he finally got under his skin.

“How dare you talk to me like that,” Lucifer intoned. The sound of his distorted voice made Alastor’s entire body shake, but he didn’t let that stop him.

With a wink, Alastor sank in his shadows and appeared behind Lucifer. The king sensed his presence immediately and turned around. When he tried to punch him, his fist stopped inches from his face.

“Let’s not forget why I’m here,” Alastor informed his owner. “You need me.”

“I can replace you anytime I want,” Lucifer retorted.

“Sure, but you can’t actually hurt me. You could ask me to kill myself, but that wouldn’t be so satisfying, would it? I understand why you play these little games, Lucifer. You want to torture me, make me suffer.”

Lucifer’s hand fell down and he looked at him in disbelief. Alastor thought he hit the nail on the head, until he heard laughter. Alastor’s conclusion was horribly wrong, and it was Lucifer’s time to catch a fit. His laughing was so intense it made him revert back to his usual, white form.

Growling, Alastor looked around for options and spotted Octavia. She was hiding behind a slide, peeking at their fight with wide, scared eyes.

Using his shadows, Alastor picked her up and brought her in front of him like a shield. He summoned his angelic knife and put it on her throat. He grazed her skin enough to pull out a drip of blood. It unfortunately wasn’t red, but rather a black, viscous liquid. At least, it was better than Lucifer’s golden blood.

When she screamed and begged him not to hurt her, he silenced her with a shadow on her mouth.

“Really, Al?” Lucifer asked. He sighed and shook his head in disapproval, but his smile stuck to his lips.

“I can kill her without your permission if I use this knife,” Alastor informed him.

Lucifer laughed again, then took a deep breath and calmed himself down. In an incredibly flat voice, he ordered him, “Kill her.”

Alastor’s grip on his knife relented. The sound it made when it hit the ground felt impossible loud to his ears.

Lucifer’s smile widened. “Aw, Al, I thought you would never believe in my lies? Surely you didn’t think I actually cared about her?”

When Alastor didn’t move, Lucifer went on, “I made it an order, Al. If you don’t kill her, you’ll die.”

The angelic blade stayed on the ground. Alastor couldn’t think of a way to get out of this situation. He didn’t care if the little Goetic demon died, but his place in the palace was precarious enough as it was. If he killed her, Stolas would stop at nothing to get his revenge, and Alastor wasn’t sure he could win against him.

There was also Stella to worry about, and surely the rest of the palace would side with their beloved chancellor over their brand new executioner they knew nothing about. Killing Octavia meant making enemies out of basically everyone.

Most of all, he refused to play into Lucifer’s hands.

“Don’t tell me you can’t do it?” Lucifer taunted him. “You’re my executioner. When I give you an order to kill, you obey. That’s the deal you signed, remember?”

With a flick of his hand, Lucifer made his shadows disappear. Octavia fell to the floor, but she quickly stood up and ran away as fast as her little legs could carry her.

Alastor watched her go. He should go after her, slit her delicate throat, but he didn’t. Instead, he stared as Lucifer stepped in his space.

With a crooked, amused, grin, Lucifer let him know, “I’m willing to retract my order if you ask nicely.”

He was offering him a worst option. Alastor would be losing any respect Lucifer gained for him if he begged now. He should be leaving, find that scared little brat and give her what was coming for her. At least Lucifer might be willing to protect him against everyone else if he kept his approval.

“As long as we’re cutting all the bullshit,” Lucifer stated in an airy voice, “I’ll let you in on a little secret: I don’t fucking care about you.”

Alastor gritted his teeth. Lucifer pounced in on it like a dog on a bone.

“That got to you, didn’t it?”

His chuckle sounded maniacally gleeful.

“You humans are all the fucking same. Like every other sinners in this god forsaken place, all you want is daddy’s attention.”

“I’ll make you fear me,” Alastor promised in a low growl.

Lucifer summoned his wings and jumped up. He floated in the air for the sole purpose of petting his head in a patronizing manner. Alastor couldn’t be happy about finally seeing his wings in action when it was in that context.

“You have no idea how cute you look to me right now. You’re like a dog chasing after its own tail. So dumb, yet strangely endearing.”

Alastor growled again. He hated how much it made him sound like a dog.

“You liked that, didn’t you? You got a degradation kink I should know about? Did that make you hard? I bet it did, you fucking mutt!”

Some part of him did enjoy it, but it wasn’t sexual pleasure it sparked in him. It was spite.

“I know how to deal with you now, pet,” Lucifer informed him. “Also, I’m retracting my order about killing Via. You made the right choice. I would have made Stolas kill you if you offed her.”

Lucifer touched the ground and made his wings disappear. He circled his shoulders like earlier, but Alastor didn’t grab his lower back in answer. Close to his mouth, he informed him, “Of course, I would have told him you killed her against my wishes.”

He kissed him once, chastely. “If you think he couldn’t possibly win against you, think again. He doesn’t like to show it, but he has power too. Not as much as me, or the other sins, but he’s nothing to sneeze at, I promise. I’ve seen grief make less powerful Hellborns much more dangerous than you could ever be, even with my power.”

Playfully, Lucifer skipped a step back and asked, “Now that that’s over with, what about dinner? I think there’s some meat left from that imp from yesterday, but I’m sure I could scrounge you up some sinner if you prefer. Wait, I think we had an infestor die lately, I can ask if their meat is ready too.”

He turned his back to him as he talked. Alastor gathered the angelic blade in his shadow and caught up to him. They walked all the way back to the palace on foot, holding hands, and Lucifer babbled about nothing without a care in the world. Alastor wished he could admire the nature around him like he did coming in, but there was too much on his mind.

Lucifer brought him to the kitchen, where he was informed there was indeed meat left from an infestor who died in an accident. Fortunately, it looked like it would be ready in time for dinner.

The king informed him he had important business to attend to in the next hour or so. Somehow, Alastor had a feeling it wasn’t one of his royal duties. Nevertheless, he was happy when he was sent to his own room to decompress.

His first idea was to take a bath, but he was too worried Lucifer would summon him in the middle of it. He could have summoned a book to read, explored the palace, tailed Stolas, or many more useful activities.

Instead, he sat down on his couch with a cigarette and a whiskey. He opened his radio to the same station as the night before and let the familiar music sooth him again.

He could have at least thought about his future plans, or what to do with Octavia now that he scared her away, but instead he found himself thinking about his mother. In many ways, she tried to protect him, give him as normal a life as he could have, but it was never enough. His father was too big of a presence, he eclipsed her efforts entirely.

He spent his childhood wondering why she wasn’t doing more to protect him, why she wasn’t taking him away from all the violence in their household. Even when he became an adult and killed his father, she didn’t change. She stayed the demure, polite woman she had always been, and denied his father was anything but ‘an honest man’.

Alastor never told her what he did. He didn’t think her heart could have taken it.

She didn’t remarry, at least not as long as he was alive. His father’s inheritance and the money he made as a radio host helped her live a decent, if poor, life. Now that she outlived him, she wouldn’t be able to afford her house and food for long.

In the last few years, she had been talking about trying to remarry. Alastor had vetted all of her potential suitors. Quite shockingly, she seemed to only be attracted to the most abusive men Alastor had ever seen. She didn’t learn her lesson with her first husband and kept excusing all of their violent tendencies, persuaded they would change for her if she only showed them enough love.

Now that he wasn’t there to keep her from making a terrible mistake, the chance that she would be trapped in another abusive marriage was worryingly high.

It shouldn’t matter to him anymore. Alastor was trying to rule over Hell: he couldn’t afford petty worries, especially ones he could do nothing about.

The most aggravating part of it all was that, with anyone else, Alastor would say they had it coming, but he grew up with his mother. He knew how his father chipped constantly at her self esteem, how he belittled her until she felt too small to do anything. She wasn’t taken in by him because she was stupid. She was fooled because he made her believe it was what she deserved.

Alastor wished he could have showed her she deserved more than what any man could ever give her, but he was a man too, after all. She drank up his kind words, but never absorbed them, because, like all other men, she thought he was above her.

She was never made for spite, his mother. She was too kindhearted, too soft spoken, too forgiving. Alastor learned from a young age that kindness was the worst flaw of them all. Only spite can make you survive in such a cruel world.

Husk must have been a lot like her, and look what that got him.

Both his glass and his cigarette were long finished when he was summoned to Lucifer’s room. On his side, without surprise, sat a steak cooked rare. Lucifer’s plate was the same as before, but sitting on it were a dozen brown pieces of what looked like burned bread. They were all in various forms of ducks. Alastor also noticed the flagrant lack of cutlery.

Lucifer caught his glance and informed him, “Those are chicken nuggets. You can make them any form you like and they taste divine.”

“Chicken?” Alastor repeated, because this didn’t look like any kind of chicken meat he had ever seen.

“They’re fried,” Lucifer explained. Seeing his blank expression, he waved his worry away and added, “They aren’t invented on Earth yet.”

“This is a Hell recipe?” Alastor wondered.

It didn’t look particularly Hellish. Like all of Lucifer’s meal so far, it looked childish.

“It’s a me recipe,” Lucifer chuckled. “I made them up a long time ago, but it’s taking a long ass time for humans to make that discovery. It’s gonna blow their minds, believe me.”

Alastor was skeptical, but he decided not to argue the point further. Instead, he cut a piece of his steak and gave it a try.

As soon as he put it on his tongue, he knew he wouldn’t like it. For one thing, the texture was slimy. The taste reminded him of a fish that spent far too long under the sun. As he chewed the bite, he found the meat to be stringy.

It was a battle of will to swallow it down, but he did. To drown out the foul taste, he drank the entire glass of wine.

“Not a fan?” Lucifer wondered.

“Are infestors fish?” Alastor countered.

Lucifer hummed. “Now that you mention it, most Hellborns and sinners are themed after animals, but I never realized their meat would taste like the animal they looked like. You got something against fish?”

Alastor made the plate disappear and served himself another glass. He had to admit that, while he could enjoy fish in some context, it certainly wasn’t his favorite.

“Are you saying you never had a taste of sinners or Hellborns?”

“Not my cup of tea,” Lucifer answered without answering. He took a particularly obnoxious sip from his sippy cup.

Alastor drank from his wine. At least that part was good. He was never a fan of wine, but he could enjoy it with a meal. A good red paired well with steaks.

Lucifer took one of his chicken nuggets with his fingers and tossed it at him. It landed in front of him with a soft thud. Alastor looked at it without moving a single muscle.

“Have a taste. I promise it’s good.”

Alastor picked up the nugget, but he didn’t put it in his mouth. It looked unbearably dry and wholly unappetizing, especially after Lucifer took it with his hand. With a careful throw, he put it back in Lucifer’s plate.

“I’d rather starve,” he informed him in a pleasant voice.

“Suit yourself,” Lucifer answered.

He didn’t look peeved, or affected in any way. Again, Alastor was barking up the wrong tree.

“You can have the kitchen bring you something else,” Lucifer suggested, biting into the nugget he threw. “Or you can use my power and make something appear. You don’t need to starve.”

Because he was telling him to, Alastor didn’t want to do it. And yet, he would probably be ill if he drank wine without eating something consistent, especially after skipping lunch and barely eating anything for breakfast.

He pictured his mother’s Jambalaya and it appeared in front of him.

Lucifer hummed, but didn’t ask. Alastor took his fork and gave it a taste. While it wasn’t anywhere close to his mother’s recipe, it tasted fine. Realizing it was a bit too bland, Alastor put more spices in it until it was better. Not perfect, but edible.

Lucifer scrounged up his nose and complained, “I can smell the spices from here.”

“Your chicken nuggets look horribly bland.”

“That’s why they’re good,” Lucifer insisted, biting into another one.

Alastor sighed, but didn’t insist.

Lucifer babbled for the rest of the meal. Alastor kept him talking, but he said nothing of note. He ate his entire plate and summoned a second one, meanwhile Lucifer ate three of his chicken nuggets and nothing else. For all he praised them, he didn’t seem to enjoy them that much.

After they were done, Lucifer pulled him into bed and they had sex. Alastor topped, but, halfway through, Lucifer rolled them around and took control again. He rode his dick like it was his job, and his expression was teasing when he summoned his wings for Alastor to admire.

No matter their position, who was topping or bottoming, in the end, all of it served to humiliate Alastor.

“I love your cock too,” Lucifer confessed. “Come for me, Al, fill me right up.”

Alastor did. Lucifer soon followed, staining his stomach. His wings disappeared and he made himself small for Alastor to engulf. It wasn’t long that he was fast asleep, and Alastor quietly left him in the company of his usual duck plushie.

After a far too long bath, Alastor burrowed in his bed and fell asleep, seeing red feathers behind his eyelids.

Chapter Text

The next day, after breakfast, Alastor sat down with his mic and resolved to figure it out.

First, he turned it around to examine it under every angles. The part recording the sound was a bright white wire mesh. Beneath a red line, there was a red eye on a black background. Its pupil was black too. On the back, there was a cover to keep the sound in. It curved around and pointed upwards in a sharp tip, not unlike an ace of spade.

Intrigued, Alastor pushed on it, only to hiss in pain. He pulled back and licked the little drop of blood, wondering why it needed to be so impressively sharp. Was he meant to use it as a spear? Somehow, he didn’t think it would pierce through someone’s insides well.

It was mounted on a long enough stick to be considered a cane. To test another hypothesis, Alastor stood up and swung it around. It was heavier than he expected, but not balanced to use in a fight at all. He supposed he wasn’t supposed to use it like a club either.

It was a mic after all. It must exist to control his sound powers, not as a weapon in itself.

In his fight with Husk, he had produced static directly in his ears to confuse him, but he had overshot by a lot and basically destroyed his eardrums (not that he would miss them now). Although he didn’t notice at the time, he must have done it with this.

Sitting back down, Alastor spoke a simple ‘hello’ in the mic, but it didn’t do anything. He taped on it with his nails, to no avail. With a sigh, he dropped it on his lap and thought about his job as a radio host. What was he missing?

The answer was obvious: a frequency.

Opening the radio, Alastor looked around until he found an empty frequency. Picking up his mic, he tapped on it twice and spoke a cheery ‘hello’ in it. He heard it play back in the radio with a small delay.

Interesting. He was getting somewhere.

He played around for a while to determine what he could and couldn’t do. There was no button on the mic, but he figured out that, if he concentrated, he could make the sound higher or lower, modulate his voice and even change it to someone else’s. He discovered that last one by trying to sound like Lucifer, which wasn’t an experience he cared to repeat.

After he was satisfied, Alastor closed the radio and sighed. What he didn’t expect was for his exhale to sound as if it was playing on the air.

Perplexed, he spoke out loud, “What is happening?”

The same effect remained on his voice. He could hear no delay, but he checked the radio anyway to make sure it was properly closed. Looking down at his mic in wonder, he spoke some nonsense and marveled at this unintended, but delightful, side effect.

Despite his earlier reservations, he removed the radio filter and tried to sound like Lucifer again. He made himself shiver by how accurately the king’s voice came out of his mouth. It was uncanny, to hear Lucifer speak his words with his delivery.

Passed his stupor, Alastor realized that this could be an incredibly useful tool. Standing up, he walked to the mirror and, with barely a thought, changed his appearance to Lucifer first, then Stolas, Stella, and finally little Octavia. As the last one, he spoke out loud, “Do you want a cup of tea?”

He could even mimic her posh accent.

Turning back to his own appearance, Alastor smiled to himself. “Today is going to be a great day,” he promised out loud, using his own voice with that brand new radio filter.

Alastor would never take it off. He already loved the sound of his own voice, especially since it was the only thing in his appearance that didn’t change after his death, but that new addition to it was simply lovely. There had to be some perks to carrying that mic around, even if it always seemed to disappear when he forgot its existence.

Humming to himself, Alastor sank in his shadows and reappeared in the garden. There was much to do, but he shouldn’t forget to celebrate the small victories. A short walk outside was sure to perk him right up for a day of palace exploration and covert spying.

Alastor walked until he came upon an exquisite fountain. He sat on the bench facing it and watched the water flowing. He was trying to empty his mind and savor the calm moment, to no avail.

Against his better judgment, his mind lingered on Lucifer. Since the moment he saw that first ad, Alastor had been unable to push him away from his thoughts for long. Going through so much at his hands in so little time certainly didn’t help.

Unfortunately, even with all that thinking, he wasn’t any closer to figuring out what kind of game he was playing.

When he saw Lucifer appear in front of him, Alastor thought he was hallucinating. He blinked, but the king was still standing there, tilting his head back to look at him with a teasing smile. It looked particularly cruel, from below. His white suite did nothing to soften his expression, with the red trims accentuating the crimson in his eyes.

“Taking advantage of my garden, I see?”

Before Alastor could stand, Lucifer sat down besides him. With a satisfied sigh, he leaned on his shoulder and closed his eyes. He rubbed his face on his shoulder like a cat and stretched. He opened his mouth to speak, only to let out a wide yawn.

“It is too early for you, my king?” Alastor asked sarcastically.

Lucifer pulled back to speak. His expression changed to something mocking. “Is that your new thing?”

“Whatever do you mean?” Alastor played dumb.

“Your voice thingy,” Lucifer precised. “Why do you sound like a radio host?”

“Perhaps because I am one.”

Lucifer regarded him with confusion. Alastor showed him his mic and jiggled it for effect. “Your power gave me this because I was a radio host on Earth.”

Lucifer let out a sound of realization. “Makes sense. Husky was a magician, you know.”

“I gathered,” Alastor deadpanned.

“Are you gonna keep it up all the time?” Lucifer wondered. He sounded half annoyed, half fond.

“That’s the plan,” Alastor admitted.

Lucifer hummed, unconvinced, but he didn’t push it. Instead, he climbed on his lap to straddle him. Alastor thought he was initiating sex, but he was relieved when he felt him curl up on his chest instead. They were hidden from view in here, but perhaps someone could see them from a window. The last thing he wanted was a public.

“If you’re planning to go back to sleep, might I suggest your bed instead? It will be far more comfortable.”

“I beg to differ,” Lucifer chuckled. “But no, I won’t fall back asleep, just gimme a couple minutes.”

With a sigh, Alastor embraced him.

He had noticed before that Lucifer didn’t weigh a lot, but it was particularly flagrant this morning. Even for his slim and short figure, he was surprisingly light. Were his bones hollow like a bird? He remembered his ribs broke easily under his knife, but he didn’t think to look inside them. He made a mental note to check next time.

His body also ran very hot, as if he contained Hellfire under his skin. Alastor could feel his heat through both of their clothes. Cradling him in his arms was comparable to holding onto a small, floating sun.

The lack of pain made the sensation strangely pleasant. If they were other people, it could have been a nice, tender moment.

Alastor kept his eyes on the fountain, but his attention was on Lucifer’s blond locks. His owner rubbed his face on his chest a couple times and let out happy noises, but otherwise stayed silent.

Like promised, Lucifer didn’t fall back to sleep. After one last happy sigh, he straightened up. Comfortable on his lap, he stretched his arms over his head.

“Good morning, honey,” Lucifer greeted him, as if he was only now waking up.

Before Alastor could retort, Lucifer kissed him. His tongue pushed inside his mouth and his hands cupped his face lovingly. Alastor’s hold on his jacket tightened, but he obediently kissed back.

When he pulled back, Lucifer licked his lips, his eyes bright. He poofed out of existence and reappeared in front of him, on his feet. He offered him a hand and informed him, “I’ve got an important appointment today and I need you to come with me.”

Alastor ignored his hand and stood by his own means. Lucifer didn’t let that deter him and hugged his arm, smiling bright.

“Where are we going?” Alastor wondered.

“The Lust layer,” Lucifer answered. He sounded especially gleeful about it, which didn’t spell anything good for Alastor.

There was one problem, though. “I thought sinners weren’t allowed to leave Pride?”

Lucifer giggled. “You don’t count as a sinner anymore, silly. You’re an extension of my power now. You’re allowed to go wherever you please.”

Was he to take that revelation literally, or was he being facetious?

As if he could read his mind, Lucifer found his eyes and assured him, “It’s in the deal too. In fact, it’s the first line, if you remember?”

Alastor recalled. I agree to become an extension of Lucifer’s powers. He didn’t think it would mean he wouldn’t be a sinner anymore.

“Am I a fallen angel now?” Alastor questioned.

Lucifer laughed like he was being stupid. “Is my hand a fallen angel?”

“I’m your right hand,” Alastor deduced.

“More like my left,” Lucifer giggled. “Unless you mean you’re clumsy.”

Alastor decided to change topic. While his true status was important, it also didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. If anything, it was clearly a positive if it allowed him to move through all the rings. Did he have the same advantages as a Hellborn?

Come to think of it, Lucifer wasn’t born in Hell either. What did it mean for him to have the status of fallen angel and the Devil? Even more importantly, did Alastor have access to all of his advantages with their deal?

“What are we doing in the Lust ring?” Alastor asked.

Lucifer showed him an enigmatic smile. “What do you think?”

Alastor opened his mouth to answer, but Lucifer cut in by teleporting them away. His impending words transformed into a soft gasp as he took in the view.

They were standing at the edge of a sprawling city filled with neon signs, all predictably advertising sexual content rather aggressively. While most buildings were barely a couple stories high, there was a downtown with high skyscrapers. Looking up the highest tower, Alastor noticed the sky was a different color. He had gotten used to a red sky. To see it a dark blue again was jarring.

He had only been dead for about two weeks, but this color felt nostalgic already. He remembered fondly nights of visiting illicit bars or hiding bodies in the forest. The few distant stars made it even more similar to Earth.

“The neon signs are pretty new,” Lucifer informed him, “but we figured out skyscrapers a lot earlier than you humans did.”

He sounded prideful, even if none of this was his own accomplishment. Like all powerful men, he took credit for everything.

“Pretty, isn’t it?”

Alastor tore his eyes away from the breathtaking sight and took in Lucifer’s face instead. His smile had softened, making his eyes wider. He was hanging on his arm, looking up at him as if he was enamored. The different color of the sky played tricks on his face to make it appear far more soft and intimate than it truly was.

Alastor gulped. He hated how often he became tongue tied around Lucifer.

“Let’s go,” Lucifer intimated him, pulling on his arm.

Without much of a choice, Alastor followed. Lucifer lead him through a few streets with all the confidence of a man who owned the place. Alastor looked around as much as he could, taking in all this new information.

Predictably, they didn’t come across any sinner, but Alastor was surprised to see how few of the demons they met were Succubi. There were a lot of imps milling around, but also Hellhounds, Baphomets, Infestors, and many more kinds of Hellborns Alastor wasn’t familiar with. He even spotted one Goetic demon walking in the other direction.

The Sins might rule over their own domain, but the races they created seemed to come and go in every layers without any restrictions. Alastor wondered if there was a time when they were all confined to their own layers, or if Hell was always this diverse.

There were Hellborns in Pentagram city too, and Alastor assumed in the rest of the Pride layer, but they were far fewer than the sinners and rarely mingled with them. He certainly didn’t like the idea that sinners were segregated from the rest of the demons and he was once more on the wrong side of the fence.

He could see many eyes staring at him curiously, like he was a circus animal. In a bizarre turn of events, Alastor was far more noticeable than Lucifer, although he attracted a few eyes too.

One thing was clear: they stood out like a sore thumb, and not in a good way.

Finally, Lucifer pulled him into a store. Alastor’s relief was short live when he realized what kind of store they were in.

He should have expected to visit a sex shop in the Lust ring.

Lucifer let go of his arm and jumped around like a kid in a toy store. It took Alastor several moments until he decided to step deeper inside, if only to avoid the eyes of every other customers walking in.

It was the biggest store Alastor had ever stepped in, reminiscent of a department store, and all of it was themed around sex. So far, he had been spared the sex toys treatment from Lucifer, but seeing what kind of objects sat on those shelves made him shiver in disgust and, if he was honest with himself, fear.

He had no idea how you were supposed to use most of what he saw. He picked up one thing that was made of black fabric, but the texture was so off putting that he put it back down and cleaned his hands. He resolved not to touch anything else, but couldn’t help his eyes wandering.

Some of the men he killed were into ‘exotic boys’ like him. He had learned what to wear to appear younger, the kind of clothes disgusting men found alluring, what color accentuated his brown skin, but a skimpy outfit and a good amount of flirting always seemed to be enough for them. The only ‘toys’ Alastor ever used were knives.

That was why, as much as he could seduce people, especially men, and he had experience with sex, that part of it was completely obscure to him. The only thing that could make him hard was stimulation. Using a toy or someone’s hand was the same to him, and not one item, or person, had ever been ‘sexy’ to him.

This entire store was filled with objects he either didn’t know the use for or didn’t do anything for him at all.

Alastor walked down another aisle, trying to find Lucifer to get a say in what he would buy. However, instead of finding the king, Alastor stumbled into a section that was filled with real toys. The kind for kids.

Perplexed, he walked up to a unicorn plushie and took it in his hands. Why someone would think a section for kids was appropriate in a sex shop was anyone’s guess, but this was Hell after all. Perhaps parent demons loved to bring their kids while buying freaky stuff for themselves, and that was where they left them.

Intrigued, Alastor turned the plushie around, until he found a hole in the back. It wasn’t big enough to fit an entire hand, and the plushie wasn’t hollow like a puppet. The texture inside the hole was silky and soft, but not fluffy. What was supposed to go in there if not a hand?

It took his brain a disturbingly long time to reach the obvious conclusion. With a gasp, he pulled his fingers out of the hole and dropped the toy like a hot potato. His eyes scanned the rest of the shelf, appalled by this new knowledge he unlocked.

This wasn’t a section for kids after all. These were indeed sex toys.

Alastor left the unicorn on the floor. It might be brand new and hopefully clean, there was no way he was touching it again, especially after he put two of his fingers in the hole. He gave it a wide berth and walked at a briskly pace, hoping Lucifer would be in the next aisle.

At the far end, he spotted something that made him pause: there were multiple shelves dedicated to duck sex toys.

There were the usual rubber ducks, but also so much more. Vibrators with duck faces on them, what Alastor learned were called fleshlights in the form of a yellow beak, whips with ducks at the end, even onesies, like for babies, and about as sexy.

It was surprising that Lucifer wasn’t here already, but perhaps he was keeping this section for last?

His jaw tight, Alastor took a decision. He was playing Lucifer’s game after all. If he was to be forced to use a duck sex toy, the least he wanted was to choose it for himself. It might please his owner to see him take some initiative too.

He was about to take a simple rubber duck, the most basic one he could find, but the lack of obvious sexual use scared him away from it. What were you supposed to do with them? They didn’t have any orifices and Alastor balked at the idea of putting it in any of his. Why did it say they were vibrating, and why was one wearing a boa despite saying it was water proof?

He needed something he could understand, but it was above him to pick an actual vibrator. He considered choosing a whip or something to hit Lucifer with, but, since they couldn’t actually hurt each other, it would probably turn out to be very dull.

Alastor almost didn’t see it amidst the rest. There was only one of them, and it was tucked under some kind of costume. Gingerly, Alastor pulled back the yellow fur and picked up what looked like a leather collar.

The label told him it was a ball gag. There was one very helpful, if scarring, picture explaining how to use it. While the idea of being silenced by a rubber duck was appalling, Alastor couldn’t deny there was some appeal in forcing Lucifer to shut up. Since he loved ducks so much, there was a chance he would actually agree to use this one on himself.

It didn’t spark sexual interest in him to picture this scene, but it was satisfying in a definitely unsexy way. While it might make it harder for him to become, well, hard, Alastor figured this one was the best option out of all of them.

Taking it in hand, Alastor finally left this godforsaken corner of the store to search for his owner.

He found Lucifer perusing with interest the lingerie section. Alastor stopped close and watched his concentrated face as he weighed the options. He looked so serious you would assumed he was looking at gravestones.

Lucifer gasped and pulled one item out. It was made of black lace and silk, with little details in red. By the color alone, Alastor knew who was meant to wear it. Lucifer only wore light colors.

The king gasped a second time when he spotted him and ran his way. Alastor noticed he had a shopping cart overflowing with stuff, but he didn’t have time to make out the items. Lucifer showed him the lingerie set with an elongated ‘ta-da’.

“Do you like it?” Lucifer asked him smugly.

“It could be worst,” Alastor admitted.

While he never enjoyed wearing lingerie, especially not for the eyes of one of his victims, he couldn’t deny this one was less obnoxious than he would have assumed from Lucifer. In fact, it was surprisingly tasteful, as far as a lingerie set could be considered as such.

Lucifer lowered the piece with a satisfied smile. He summoned his cart closer and put it inside. Alastor wanted to see his other purchases to veto the most horrible ones, but Lucifer pointed to his right hand.

“What’s this? Did you pick something for us?” His expression softened. “I didn’t know you cared!”

Alastor remembered the ball gag with some trepidation. Looking down at the floor, he showed the duck to Lucifer. “I figured you might enjoy this.”

The silence that followed was far too long. Alastor swallowed and found Lucifer’s expression. He was frowning, his lips were turned down, and he was sending daggers at the rubber duck. Alastor had never seen so much disgust on anyone’s face, and he used to rub elbow with the most vile racist men on Earth.

“Put it back,” Lucifer ordered him in a cold voice.

Alastor’s whole body shook with the amount of restrained anger in his tone, but he complied. Using his shadows, he sent the ball gag back where he took it.

Lucifer let out a deep breath. His anger wasn’t gone. Quite the contrary, it seemed to expand with every passing seconds, changing him into his demonic form in increments. Now that the toy was gone, it was focused solely on Alastor.

Grinding his teeth, Lucifer stepped in his space and grabbed his lapels. Even as he turned into his demonic form yesterday, there was still playfulness on his face and in his voice. It was gone now, and all that remained was a searing cold fury.

Alastor was witnessing the Devil’s wrath for the first time.

“You get one pass,” Lucifer threatened him in a low voice. “I’ll let it slide because you didn’t know, but try to use one single duck in an inappropriate way again and I will fucking kill you. I don’t care if I can harm you or not. I’ll rip out your throat faster than you can say ‘sorry’. I’ll tear off your limbs one by one. I’ll keep you conscious as I end your pitiful existence little by little, as slowly as I can, and I promise to make it hurt.”

Hellfire came out of his mouth every time he exhaled, only to die on Alastor’s lips. His hands burned through his lapels and pressed against his chest, branding like red hot iron.

“Is that clear?” Lucifer asked, his voice deeper, breathier.

He was out of breath, and Alastor had stopped breathing a long time ago. The fire consumed all the oxygen between them.

“Yes,” Alastor squeaked.

Satisfied with the amount of fear he saw in his eyes, Lucifer stepped back and reverted to his usual appearance.

Now that he wasn’t in immediate danger anymore, the tension in his body was released all at once and Alastor soiled himself. The front of his pants became wet and warm. Disgusting drops glided down his thighs, making the fabric stick to his skin. The smell of ammonia filled the air as mortification took over fear.

Alastor cleaned himself as soon as he was able to, but he was too late. He saw Lucifer glancing down with a satisfied smile. He didn’t need to comment on it. His cruel chuckle said it all.

“Honey, I’ve been hesitating between these two, tell me which one you prefer?”

Lucifer dove in his cart and pulled out two different vibrators. They looked identical to Alastor, but it might be the lingering terror speaking. With a shaking hand, he pointed to the one on the left.

Laughing mischievously, Lucifer kept the one on the right.

The king proceeded to show him everything in his cart. Alastor didn’t see any of it. He pointed at random when asked for an opinion, but otherwise stayed frozen in place. Lucifer didn’t seem to mind, taking pleasure in talking at him without interruption.

Alastor tried with all his might to shake himself out of his stupor, but it wasn’t working. He was big enough to admit he had been scared multiple times since meeting Lucifer, but, even so, he was always able to keep some of his wits about him.

This time was different.

Something about the way Lucifer spoke and looked at him triggered an instinct he never felt before, ancient and bone deep. Humans used to be preyed upon by all sorts of predators, and his body had been reminded of that fact.

Alastor was finally able to snap out of it when they stepped outside the store. If Lucifer paid for his items, Alastor had no memory of it. He didn’t have a bag either. Did he teleport it all to his palace? How scared Alastor should be for their next sexual encounter?

The gentle light of the dark sky and the slight breeze brought him back to the present. Lucifer was holding his hand. Alastor intertwined their fingers to make sure he could feel the movement, but he was loathed to admit his breathing settled when Lucifer squeezed in answer.

To be soothed by the one who scared him so badly was another kind of indignity he bore in silence.

With a stubborn smile on his face, but without a word, Lucifer brought him to another establishment. The poster on the door told him it was a BDSM club, however that didn’t mean anything to Alastor.

His first thought was that it was a bar, but it became evident people were straight up having sex instead of dancing to the loud music. Most of them were dressed in either lingerie or some kind of leather outfit, and Alastor saw sex toys being used in ways he could have never imagined. Unfortunately, all of it was seared in his mind now.

Lucifer brought him towards the bar. The succubus behind it sent them a flirting smile and asked, “What are you looking for, hot stuff?”

“You,” Lucifer answered cheekily.

The woman didn’t look put off by Lucifer’s bold offer, quite the contrary. Reaching over the bar, she took Lucifer by the bow tie and pushed her lips against his. Alastor saw his tongue sliding in her mouth before something ugly took hold of his heart again. It was unfair, how much Lucifer affected him, when he didn’t matter at all to him.

He stepped back, expecting Lucifer to reach for him and keep him close, but he didn’t. Bewildered, Alastor took a couple steps. His owner either didn’t notice or didn’t care, it was hard to tell.

Filled with bitter relief, he made it outside the bar. Leaning against the wall, not far from the door, Alastor manifested a cigarette and smoked.

This morning, Lucifer said he had an appointment. He couldn’t have meant the sex shop or this club, could he? What other horrors awaited him in this horrible layer?

He had time to smoke through three cigarettes before Lucifer stepped outside, his smile giddy and his outfit askew. As soon as he saw him, his hands reached for his shoulders and he embraced him, pushing his weight on him and giggling like he was drunk.

Lucifer leaned up for a kiss, but Alastor stopped him by cupping his cheek. With his thumb, he rubbed away a trace of lipstick.

“Are you jealous, Al?” Lucifer whispered. The prospect seemed to fill him with joy.

Instead of answering, Alastor kissed him.

For some reason, he was expecting to taste the person (or people) Lucifer had sex with, but all he could discern was his usual taste, apples dipped in honey. He lapped inside his mouth like he was trying to clean him. Lucifer huffed, but he didn’t protest, kissing back with as much talent as ever.

Lucifer was the one who pulled back first. He kissed the corner of his mouth, then rubbed his nose on his cheek playfully.

“Come on, we have more places to visit,” Lucifer insisted.

Alastor had half a mind to teleport them back to the palace, but he didn’t. Hopefully, not all the places they would visit would be BDSM clubs.

Smiling, Lucifer took his hand and pulled him along. Alastor looked at the night sky, the neon signs, and his owner walking besides him, happy and in his element.

Alastor didn’t belong here, and yet, he was allowed to witness all its wonders and depravities as Lucifer’s pet. He thought going outside Pride would make him feel powerful, but it only served to remind him that someone like him would never be able to come here without a leash around his neck.

His wish was granted. They didn’t visit a BDSM club next, but he couldn’t be happy about it when they stepped inside a brothel instead. The scantily clad, but professional looking, receptionist showed them a menu with pictures of men, women and anything in between. Most of them were succubi or incubi, but not all. There was a name and a short description for each one.

After much deliberation, Lucifer chose a succubus that went by the name Verosika.

“Good choice, your Majesty,” the receptionist assured him. “Verosika is our top ranked worker.”

Lucifer smiled knowingly. It wasn’t his first time here, nor would it be his last.

“Who do you want, Al?” Lucifer sprang on him.

Alastor was about to say he would pass, when he caught Lucifer’s knowing smile. Refusing wasn’t an option. Lucifer only let him take a break last time to make him believe it was.

For someone who claimed he didn’t care about how he felt, he was insanely good at torturing him.

With a huff, Alastor took the menu and perused the options. He didn’t want to have sex, but perhaps there was someone in there he could torture. It would help with his frustration if nothing else.

His eyes did a double take when he found a familiar face, along with the real version of a nickname he only heard once. His smile widened and he showed the picture to the receptionist.

“I want that one.”

“Are you sure?” She asked, clearly taken aback. “He’s not exactly...” she trailed off to find the right word, “first rate. Barely anyone requests him, and the reviews are, shall we say, divided.”

“An imp?” Lucifer asked with a raised eyebrow. He read the description and let out a laugh. “And it’s a top! I thought for sure you were a top. What have you been hiding from me?”

Unfortunately, Lucifer was right to think he preferred to top, but it wasn’t about what felt more pleasurable. He catered to all kinds of disgusting men in his life (and death), and being able to have the upper hand for once was satisfying.

However, whether this imp topped or bottomed didn’t matter at all, because he wasn’t planning to have sex with him.

“I am intrigued by his...” Alastor trailed off to read the description again and had to swallow a sigh, “big dick.”

Lucifer giggled. “I’m sure it’s not as big as mine.”

Probably not, Alastor conceded in his mind. “Nevertheless, I want him.”

“Fine,” Lucifer abdicated, sending him a strange look. “Whatever makes you wet.”

Alastor cringed. Lucifer caught it, but didn’t comment.

“You’re lucky, sir. Blitzo only works part time, but he’s available now.”

Lucifer paid and they were each given a key. After the receptionist pointed them in the right direction, Lucifer slid his arms around his waist and kissed him hard and deep. Alastor’s legs were weak by the end, and he could feel his dick taking interest.

“Have fun, honey,” Lucifer wished him.

Alastor rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand, but didn’t answer. Lucifer’s room was the penthouse, while Alastor’s was on the ground floor. He watched the king disappear in the elevator before walking through the seedy corridors. The outside looked fancy, and there was no doubt Verosika’s room would be too, but this part was sordid and dusty. Blitzo was worth ten times less than the top seller and it showed.

He slid the key in the lock not with trepidation, but excitement. His dick had completely softened now that Lucifer wasn’t around, and he couldn’t believe his luck, to find Stolas’ lover in the first brothel he stepped in.

This revelation painted Stolas in a whole new light. Had he been wrong in assuming they were in a loving relationship? Perhaps he was paying for his services after all. If Blitzo was a sex worker, chances were he would be an expert at feigning love. Meanwhile, it wasn’t impossible to imagine Stolas falling in love with the prostitute he paid for if his marriage was as loveless as it looked.

Grinning, Alastor pushed the door opened.

“Oh shit, I got a client?” The imp exclaimed.

Alastor walked in and closed the door. When he took in the scene, he wished he hadn’t. The imp was naked and fucking something that looked eerily like the unicorn Alastor inadvertently fingered earlier, except without the horn.

“Oops, sorry darling, just give me a sec,” Blitzo went on. He pulled the sex toy off him with a disgustingly wet sound.

Alastor tried to look away, but he had no control over his eyes. They stared without his consent at his glistening red dick. The only thought that went through his mind was that Lucifer was right: it wasn’t as big as his.

“How are we doing this? You wanna be on your back, or maybe you want me to fuck you like a dirty little – oooh shit you’re a sinner!”

The imp’s casual demeanor changed the moment his eyes landed on his face. Alastor cleared his throat and detailed his expression. He didn’t look scared, only wary and shocked, understandably.

“What’s a sinner doing in the Lust layer? I thought you guys couldn’t leave Pride?”

As if it was only occurring to him now, Blitzo grabbed the horse plushie and threw it away. It landed on the floor with a loud squeak. The imp then proceeded to hide his lower body under a sheet, with his erection pitching a tent in it. His newfound modesty, if a little belated, was welcomed by Alastor.

Taking another step in the room, Alastor revealed, “I’m here to talk about Stolas.”

Chapter Text

“I’m here to talk about Stolas.”

Blitzo gasped in an exaggerated manner. “Why the fuck do you sound like that?”

Alastor sighed. “Is that the most pressing question on your mind?”

“Sure,” Blitzo went on in a placating tone. “Yeah, let’s go with that.”

Not only was it an obnoxiously badly worded attempt at changing the topic, but his tone wasn’t any more convincing. His eyes shifted around as if trying to find something that could save him from this inconvenient question.

Alastor detailed the room in one fell swoop. It was what you would expect from a shitty hotel room. There was only one vexingly small double bed, no windows, and a tiny en suite bathroom. There wasn’t enough space to sit on the toilet and stand at the same time, and the shower would trigger claustrophobia even in the most carefree person.

There wasn’t any desk, but one chair sat besides the bed, angled towards it. Alastor couldn’t help but wonder what was its use. He would imagine people didn’t come in here to sit. Was it another sexual thing he didn’t understand?

It was on the mysterious chair that he found what he could only assume were Blitzo’s clothes. He picked them up with his shadows and wondered how to proceed. Fortunately, his power understood his intentions and teleported the clothes on the imp’s body without the need to manually dress him.

Blitzo shot up from the bed and looked down at himself. “What the fuck?”

“I figured this discussion would go over better if we were both dressed,” Alastor explained, eyeing the chair. He wanted to sit down, but didn’t trust its apparent cleanliness.

“You can just do that, fantastic!” Blitzo mumbled to himself. “The fuck do we have to talk about? I don’t have anything to say about Stolas. Why the fuck would you think an imp like me knows anything about a Goetic demon?”

Alastor smiled wider. “I didn’t mention he was a Goetic demon.”

Blitzo rolled his eyes. “He’s the chancellor, everyone knows that much.”

Sighing, Alastor decided it was time to move this conversation along. He manifested his angelic blade and, in one smooth motion, put it on Blitzo’s throat. Leaning in his face, he let the little demon know, “I can, and will, kill you, unless you start talking.”

His Adam’s apple moved against the blade in a painful sounding gulp, but Blitzo only narrowed his eyes at him. “You know, you won’t get anything from me if you kill me.”

Alastor chuckled. Taking a step back, he made the blade disappear and put his hands in his back. “You agree you have pertinent information to share after all.”

Blitzo scoffed. “You sure you don’t wanna fuck? I promise I can show you a good time.”

Glancing at the chair again, Alastor wished it clean and hoped that, despite the lack of apparent changes, his power made it so. Gingerly, he sat down and crossed his legs.

Blitzo’s eyes followed him. After a tense silence, he jumped on the bed and sat on it, facing him. His legs dangled over the edge without touching the floor and he kicked them, betraying his stress. Under his breath, he mumbled, “Of course he sits in the cuck chair.”

It was apparent he didn’t mean for Alastor to hear him, but nothing went passed him with his sound powers. He decided he didn’t want to touch what a ‘cuck chair’ meant with a ten foot pole and moved on to business instead.

“I know Stolas is paying for your services.”

“Fuck you!” Blitzo shouted back with surprising acrimony. “He’s not paying shit, I’m seeing him because I want to. Sure, we have sex, but it’s not like that. Stolas isn’t like that, he’s actually… really nice...”

Something seemed to dawn on him, and his loving, soft expression changed to a painfully fake smile. He desperately tried to take his words back in a feigned easygoing tone, “I-I mean, of course Stolas is paying to see me, I’m the only one who can make that bird squawk, but he only wants my big dick, I swear. I’m the whore but he’s the slut, just the other day he begged me to–”

“Let me stop you right there,” Alastor cut in. “Thank you for confirming my suspicions that there are indeed real feelings between you two.”

Fidgeting with his mic, he remembered the book he read about Hell’s society. Paying for sex was by far the safest option if you wanted to explore outside your species. Anyone could have sex with anyone as long as it was transactional. One night stands were also considered fine. Friends with benefits was skirting a dangerous line, but still allowed.

Lust was encouraged, especially in the Lust Ring, but love? Romance was a dangerous thing down here, like it was on Earth. Alastor knew all about how you could be prohibited to marry someone because of the color of your skin or your gender. Species was a new one, but the concept was eerily similar.

On Earth, people weren’t quite as obvious about their sexual deviance, but that only meant it happened behind closed doors. This society was much more opened about satisfying whatever perversion your heart desired, but it still kept people from experiencing any kind of love that deviated from the accepted norm.

Unfortunately, it was Hell for Hellborns too.

Alastor had been shocked to see same sex or interracial couples parading around in Pentagram City seemingly without a care. There was still bigotry aplenty, but it felt less systemic to him. People rose to power by making deals, which made for a vastly different society. At the end of the day, he supposed it didn’t matter if people were oppressed by diverse overlords instead of white old men, but he couldn’t deny it made him smile, to see someone like him have much more opportunities to rise to the top.

Today, he was confronted with the fact that there was a lot of systemic discrimination in Hell, but it wasn’t about your appearance, your gender or your orientation. Everything was about your species.

The book he read didn’t talk about sinners’ place in this social ladder, but, from what he could gather, they weren’t at the bottom. Hellhounds were at the bottom. Although they could talk, they were considered animals. Imps were one step up, but barely, and more often than not slaves to other kinds of demons.

Alastor didn’t miss the way Lucifer kept referring to imps as ‘it’. If he didn’t consider them as sentient beings, Alastor imagined a lot of other demons didn’t either.

Sinners were a separate category altogether. While they undeniably enjoyed a lot of freedom, they were confined to only one layer. They were perceived as dangerous, especially because of Lucifer’s deal with Heaven, but they were mostly left alone to deal with themselves. Lucifer wasn’t a very involved King, except when it was to prevent a rebellion.

Alastor wondered what would happen, if a sinner decided to have a romantic relationship with a Hellborn. What fate would the sinner face? Knowing that would give him incredible insight to how they were seen by the rest of Hell.

The point to all of this was, if Stolas paid for Blitzo’s services, they could argue their relationship was purely sexual and transactional in nature, which meant they would be safe. Was that the reason he was working here? To give them both plausible deniability?

“Who the fuck even are you?” Blitzo asked him, growling.

“I see you don’t keep up with the news,” Alastor teased him. “I was chosen as the new executioner by Lucifer himself two days ago.”

Had it only been two days? It had felt like a lifetime.

“Wait, that’s you?” Blitzo exclaimed. “Fuck, I should have known! Only the executioner could come here.”

“The name’s Alastor,” he offered cheerily.

“That’s how you know Stolas,” Blitzo went on. His eyes widened in shock. “Holy fuck, that means you’re Octavia’s mom now?”

“Have you met her?” Alastor asked, intrigued.

Gathering his legs under him, Blitzo sighed with melancholy. His eyes shined with unshed tears. “Of course not, you think an imp like me is allowed anywhere near her?”

Sensing he was in a sharing mood, Alastor stayed silent and watched him. Blitzo stared at the ceiling, no doubt to keep his tears from spilling over. “Anyway, she’s confused enough as it is, the last thing she needs is her father’s fuck buddy to come in her life.”

“Fuck, he’s not even her father anymore,” Blitzo added, lower. He tightened his fist and hit the mattress. “Their entire family is so fucked.”

Alastor couldn’t agree more, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

Blitzo either forgot who he was, or he needed to get it off his chest and Alastor happened to be there. “You know the most frustrating part? After all he’s done to him, to his child, he still loves Lucifer. He saw how he treated Husk and every executioner before him, but still he wants to believe there’s good in him. He’ll look for every flimsy explanation to excuse his shitty behaviors and then make me feel like the bad guy for not gobbling it up.”

“It’s not like he has a choice, but shit, I wish he would just say he hates him.”

“Do you hate Lucifer?” Alastor asked, making his voice soft on purpose.

“Of course I hate him!” Blitzo exploded. He stood up on the bed and paced around on it. His feet sank in the soft mattress, making him lose his balance a couple times, but he never fell down. “I hate him so fucking much, I wish I could stab him in his stupid face!”

“So do I,” Alastor admitted. He didn’t mean to speak, but he couldn’t find it in himself to take it back.

Blitzo stopped pacing. With a huff, he sat back down cross legged and his eyes landed on him as if he was seeing him for the first time.

“Oh yeah, you’re his new executioner,” Blitzo reminded himself. To Alastor, he wondered, “You’re not in love with him, are you?”

Alastor tapped on the armrest restlessly. As illuminating as this conversation was, he hated that he was feeling some affinity for Blitzo of all people. There was something almost charming about how he was unable to lie with any conviction, and Alastor found his way of not entertaining any bullshit refreshing. As tactless and crass as his words were, there was no doubt he meant everything he was saying.

Everyone at the palace played a game. Most of them were unwilling participants, but that didn’t mean they weren’t complicit. To talk with someone who couldn’t lie to save his life was a change of pace Alastor couldn’t help but welcome.

“No, I’m not,” Alastor answered his question. “I took this position in order to kill him.”

Blitzo hummed. Looking him up and down, he winced and deduced, “It’s not going well, is it?”

“I was able to make him bleed with angelic steel, but it hasn’t proven fatal,” Alastor admitted.

“Yeah, it would take more than that,” Blitzo agreed.

They shared a companionable silence. Alastor had more questions, but he could tell Blitzo didn’t have important answers for him. He might be close to Stolas, but he didn’t actually know much about the palace. Alastor could blackmail him, he supposed, but what would be the point? Stolas was the one in a position to help him. Blitzo didn’t have much to offer him besides what he already paid for.

Speaking of, Blitzo stood up with a wry smile and walked closer. He put one hand on the back of Alastor’s chair, the other on the armrest.

“My offer still stands. I’ve never fucked a sinner before, but I’m sure I can find your sweet spot in no time.”

Alastor scoffed. With his mic, he pushed Blitzo’s face away. The imp humphed, but he stepped back without insisting. Despite his apparent indignation, he was smiling, clearly not offended by the rejection.

“Fine! I was only trying to lighten the mood, no need to get prissy.”

“Isn’t this job only a cover?” Alastor asked before he could stop himself.

“Sure,” Blitzo admitted, sitting back down. “Kinda? I love to fuck, and being paid for it, well, it doesn’t hurt my bank account. I’m not exactly the most popular either, so I can just send people off if they’re being too creepy. Honestly, this side gig is pretty sweet.”

“Doesn’t Stolas see it as cheating?”

Blitzo regarded him as if he had grown a second head, then exploded in laughter.

“Sorry,” he apologized lightly. “It’s just, cheating, really? He cheated on me first by getting married. We’re both doing what we gotta do.”

Stolas and Stella were married after all. Alastor was glad to have the confirmation.

“With other people, it’s just sex, it doesn’t mean anything,” Blitzo went on. “Even if it did, it’s not like I would love him any less. He knows that.”

Wasn’t that sweet? Alastor swallowed a biting remark.

“If you didn’t meet here, then where? I don’t imagine Stolas has many occasions to leave the palace.”

The answer to that question wasn’t pertinent to his schemes, but he figured he could never have too much information. He could also admit he was deeply curious about this strangely wholesome arrangement they seemed to have.

“We actually met here,” Blitzo revealed. He sat back down with a huff and told him, “I shouldn’t be telling you any of this, but, fuck it! You can’t be so bad if you hate Lucifer as much as I do.”

Alastor wanted to argue he hated him more, but he bit his tongue. He was far more curious about what Blitzo would tell him.

“The fucking creep brought Stolas here as soon as he became an adult, to teach him how to have sex or something. At least, he didn’t do it himself, but the fucking pervert bought him the most expensive worker as a birthday gift, can you fucking believe it? Stols is an aggressively submissive bottom who only loves dick, preferably mine, but of course he got him a succubi. She did her best, I’m sure, but, whatever happened in there made him storm out crying like a little kid.”

A fond smile came on his face, replacing the previous frown of disgust. “Can you believe I was just passing by? He hid in an alleyway not far, and I was being chased by, er, someone. I just dipped in and hid behind him while he cried. I asked him what was wrong and he dropped it all on me. I comforted him and we had a good time talking until he had to go back. In the following years, we would sometimes meet when he would visit with Lucifer, until I decided taking a job was the safest option. We agreed he would choose other people, then come to my room instead to hang out. The others didn’t mind since they were getting paid to do fuck all, and Lucifer didn’t have to find out he was visiting me instead of a more ‘appropriate’ option.”

“I wasn’t planning to ever fuck him, I swear, but we just kind of kissed one day and it was nice, you know? Like it meant something for once.”

Alastor’s mind went to Lucifer. How many times had they kissed, and how little did it matter to him? Alastor wished it didn’t mean a thing to him either, but, even as Blitzo was talking about kissing Stolas, he could taste apples and honey in his mouth.

“Why did you do all of this for him?”

He hated how many questions came out of him against his will. Blitzo had the uncanny ability to put him at ease. Maybe it was his willingness to tell him his most dangerous secret without any kind of shame that made Alastor believe nothing he could say would ever be used against him.

“Why?” Blitzo repeated, puzzled. The fact that he didn’t even know what he was asking spoke volumes.

“You didn’t help him to use his position to your advantage,” Alastor insisted.

“Fuck no,” Blitzo confirmed.

“So why?” Alastor insisted. He felt a pressing need to have an answer. “Why would you help him before you fell in love with him at your own great risk?”

Blitzo hummed thoughtfully. “Because he needed a friend? Because he was the prettiest person I’ve ever seen? Because I felt like it? I don’t know, man, I never ask these kinds of questions, they’re trouble. I like when things are simple.”

And yet, he involved himself in the most complicated relationship he could find. Despite his frankness, Blitzo was certainly a puzzle.

After another companionable silence, Blitzo turned the question back to him, “Do you have someone?”

Alastor stared down at his mic. “I died two weeks ago.”

“Shit, that sucks.”

Sighing, Alastor went on, “I never wanted a relationship or kids. I didn’t know becoming the executioner would involve both.”

“Fuck,” Blitzo let out in sympathy.

“I threatened to kill Octavia, but Lucifer didn’t care.”

“He wouldn’t.”

“I tried to kill him and he told me he didn’t mind.”

“Shit, that’s depressing.”

Alastor twirled his mic around. He didn’t plan to come in here and complain about Lucifer, but he couldn’t deny it helped. The last thing he expected was to find a kindred spirit in Blitzo, and yet, he couldn’t say he regretted it.

Even so, it was time he put an end to this, before he divulged something even more incriminating.

Standing up, Alastor told his unexpected friend, “As fun as this has been, I better get going.”

Blitzo stood too. With a warm smile, he told him, “Hey, Al, next time you come here, feel free to request me again. I’d be happy to plow your ass!”

Unexpectedly, he jumped on him in a bear hug. Alastor tapped his back once in gratitude before using his shadows to push him away. He found himself glad for the offer, the sex part none withstanding. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to take advantage of it without Lucifer becoming suspicious, but it was nice to know it was an option.

“In your dreams,” Alastor retorted. His smile was easy.

“You can also request someone else and sneak in here like Stols does. I don’t have clients often, but, hey, I’d love a threesome too!”

“It has been a pleasure,” Alastor retorted, ignoring his sex joke once more. The most shocking part was that he meant it.

“See you later, Al!” Blitzo greeted him.

Alastor had time to see him dive down for his horse plushie before he closed the door on him. He walked back to the reception feeling lighter than he had coming in.

Lucifer wasn’t done yet. Alastor sat down on one of the chairs and smoked another cigarette. He thought about Blitzo and what he saw in Stolas, then wondered about Husk’s apparent love for Lucifer. Although the latter had it worst, both suffered for their love of men that, in all likelihood, didn’t deserve them.

Once more, Alastor was proven this fact: in Hell as on Earth, loving someone made you weak.

Alastor wasn’t a good person. He wasn’t kind. He lived on spite and he loved to pull people down. He could kill anyone without blinking an eye, and he would do any disgusting thing if it meant assuring his survival. He wouldn’t balk at manipulating someone’s feelings for him to gain any kind of edge, especially in his current situation.

Even so, in this binary world, Alastor was only a predator because he didn’t want to be a prey. He would abuse someone’s love for him to get what he wanted, but he would never do it for the sake of it. He despised people who pushed down on those who loved them to make themselves feel superior. Alastor knew he was better than everyone else without needing the reminder.

He never wanted to become his mother, but he didn’t want to be his father either. As he smoked, he promised himself he wouldn’t be like any of these people, Lucifer, Stolas, Blitzo, Husk. He refused to play love’s game, on either side of the equation. The only person he could afford to love was himself.

Lucifer wasn’t alone when he stepped into the reception. The succubus he chose was holding his arm. They were both laughing amorously, whispering sweet nothings to each other. She escorted him right to the door and left him with one last deep kiss. As she walked away, she sent him a wink and a flying kiss. Lucifer mimicked catching it and sent her one too.

She laughed all the way to the elevator.

Alastor followed the king as he stepped outside. He looked well and thoroughly fucked, with his giddy smile, his warm skin, his bright eyes, the spring in his step.

He only noticed him when they were outside. “Honey! I’m glad to see you. Did you have a good time?”

Alastor reached for his hand and intertwined their fingers. The king looked pleased by his initiative, but he didn’t comment on it, waiting for his response.

The lie came easily because it wasn’t one. “I did.”

“Was its dick big?” Lucifer wondered with a chuckle.

“Not as much as yours,” Alastor conceded with a small laugh.

“I’m glad you had fun,” Lucifer lied.

“What about you?” Alastor returned the question, even if he didn’t want to know.

“Yeah,” Lucifer let out without conviction. “I guess it was fun.”

Without warning, he perked up. “It’s time for lunch, I know just the place!”

Alastor took out his pocket watch and glanced at it. It was the middle of the afternoon. Nevertheless, he wouldn’t complain. He didn’t notice until now, but he was actually starving.

Lucifer brought him to a restaurant. It didn’t look like much from outside, but the inside was charming in an unassuming way. The well dressed host, especially for this layer, sat them at the best table near a window. Although they were on the ground floor, Alastor could see a sliver of the sky up above. It was the only part of this ring he didn’t hate so far, except for Blitzo.

Alastor looked at the menu, but he didn’t recognize most of the options. It made sense that Hell would have developed their own meals, especially in the layers untouched by humans. Thankfully, there was steak available, although it was regrettably beef.

When someone came to their table, Alastor ordered his steak and a whiskey, but his owner waved his hand in dismissal when it was his turn. The server wisely didn’t insist and left.

As soon as he was gone, Lucifer manifested his usual yellow tableware. He elected to eat mac and cheese. Before taking a bite, he took his sippy cup and drank from it. It was always jarring to see his glassy eyes staring at him over it. Alastor couldn’t reconcile this Lucifer with the many others he had seen. He wished, one day, he would be able to.

Feeling unexpectedly bold, Alastor wondered, “What are you drinking, your Majesty?”

Lucifer put the sippy cup down, but he kept it in his hands. There was a duck face on the back, and he would assume on the front too. It was staring at Alastor with empty, supposedly happy eyes. After what happened earlier, it sent a shiver down his spine.

“Apple juice,” Lucifer admitted.

Was he always drinking that, and, if so, was that why he tasted like apples? Thousands of years of drinking nothing else could easily influence the taste of his spit, Alastor supposed.

Lucifer picked his fork with his left hand and took a bite. Even though it wasn’t as dry as the chicken nuggets, the orange mixture still looked unbearable bland to Alastor.

He was brought his whiskey first. He took a sip and watched Lucifer turn his fork around in his food. With his tongue poking out, he tried to slid one of the tines inside one pasta, but, because it was meant for kids, it was too wide to fit. He finally gave up and, with a pout, stabbed through a couple of them. He brought them to his mouth with all the elegance of a five years old with motor skills issues.

Predictably, some fell on his lap. With a giggle, Lucifer picked them up with his hands and ate them from his fingers, licking them afterwards.

Alastor was relieved when his steak was brought to him. It tasted fine, he supposed, but nothing to write home about. Lucifer gave up on his pasta about half way through and disappeared the plate entirely, but kept on drinking his apple juice. He drank far more than the small bottle could possibly contain, but it would be easy for him to refill it after all.

His steak was almost gone when Lucifer wondered, “Did you really let it fuck you?”

Alastor took the time to swallow his bite, pondering his answer. He thought the matter closed, but of course Lucifer would let it simmer before addressing it again. For all he acted oblivious and carefree, Alastor didn’t doubt for one second he was observant. He would have noticed how uncomfortable he had been.

Lucifer didn’t let him choose a prostitute to torture him. It had been a test. Lucifer thought he could gather knowledge on him by the option he picked.

He could lie. Alastor was a good liar, he could make it believable. The problem was, he could see Lucifer already had doubts, and he would probably see right through him, no matter how expertly he weaved his tale.

As a manipulator himself, Alastor knew the most effective lies were the ones spun with a thread of truth.

“No, I didn’t,” Alastor let out in a controlled voice.

Lucifer hummed. “Why did you choose it then?”

That part, he couldn’t reveal. Not only would he lose his bargaining chip, but it would put Blitzo in jeopardy. It should be the least of his worries, but, against all odds, he felt the compulsion to help him as far as he was able to. The one important rule was to never put himself in danger.

“I didn’t want to have sex,” Alastor admitted. “I chose an imp because I figured I could defend myself if he got any ideas.”

Lucifer eyed him. Alastor stabbed the last piece of meat on his plate and brought it to his mouth.

His intrigued expression softened to something more teasing. “If you didn’t have sex, what did you do?”

“We had a chat.”

“About what?” Lucifer insisted.

“He told me his life story,” Alastor let out with a chuckle.

Lucifer laughed with him. “I bet it was riveting.”

Alastor didn’t comment. Instead, he took a sip of his whiskey. It wasn’t as good as the one he drank in the palace, but it was surprisingly nice. It warmed his throat and left a nice taste in his mouth.

Lucifer sipped obnoxiously loudly before he commented, “You’re not into sex, then?”

“What gave you the idea?” Alastor asked. It was meant as a sarcastic remark, but he wanted to know too.

Giggling, Lucifer admitted, “I had a feeling since the first time we kissed, but you just confirmed it for me.”

Letting him choose a sex worker was the final test, so to speak. Alastor wasn’t sure if he failed or passed that test.

“What’s the deal?” Lucifer went on. “I know for a fact you can feel pleasure, so why don’t you like sex?”

He said it so matter-of-factly, it threw Alastor off kilter. Was he seriously glossing over the fact that he forced him into sex? Before yesterday, Alastor could have generously assumed he didn’t realize the power dynamic between them, but he knew better now. Lucifer knew exactly what kind of hold he had on him, and he knew precisely how his actions affected him.

There was still the matter of whether everything he did was premeditated or if he was acting on whims, but, planned or not, Lucifer knew the weight of his actions. To pretend otherwise would be delusional.

Although it pained him, Alastor decided to be honest. No lie felt convincing enough.

“I don’t feel the same pull as other people do,” he confessed. It was far easier to look down at his plate than to take Lucifer’s gaze head on. “I’m not affected by anyone’s looks or personalities, but my body reacts to stimuli.”

As much as he pitied those who fell in love, as much as he knew his inability to do so was one of his biggest strengths, it still alienated him from a society that hammered on him the need to get married to the right kind of person, to have the right kind of sex, to have the perfect amount of kids, to lead a life that could fit in a tight box.

Because he could play the part of the yearning lover, everyone assumed he was able to feel that attraction. Alastor let them believe it because it worked in his favor, but, sometimes, he wished he could assume who he was proudly.

For Lucifer to be the first person he came out to was bittersweet, to say the least.

“You don’t feel attraction, but you can get horny,” Lucifer summarized pensively.

Alastor looked up by reflex. He expected to see sadistic glee in his red eyes, but he was shocked to see them intrigued instead, as if he was truly fascinated by this new information he was learning.

His lips curled up in a wry smile. “You’re not attracted to me either, are you?”

Alastor’s jaw slackened. Lucifer looked, for the lack of a better word, sympathetic. In his eyes, there wasn’t pity, or superiority, or disdain, but compassion.

It must be an act, and yet, it was so convincing Alastor had no choice but to believe it.

Swallowing painfully, he whispered, “No.”

It wasn’t a lie, but it felt like one. He did feel another kind of pull towards men like his father, to get close to them, to make them believe he was under their thumb, only to kill them when they expected it the least.

Alastor could have killed his victims from afar. He didn’t need to come into their lives as a lover or a son. These roles he played were never inevitable. He came up with them because he found pleasure in making those men understand what he went through.

He wanted them to know how much it hurt, to be betrayed by someone you thought loved you.

In a very real, tangible way, Alastor was attracted to Lucifer. It was visceral too, and more potent than he ever felt for anyone else. He couldn’t pretend it wasn’t sexual, because it was.

It wasn’t about his appearance, his smell, his style, or his personality. Alastor was attracted to what Lucifer represented and what it would mean to ruin him.

Lucifer reached for his hand and squeezed it as if to comfort him. “You took this deal because you wanted to kill me. The power was a nice bonus, but your true motivation was to make me dead.”

Was there any point in denying it?

“I love that,” Lucifer whispered. He leaned in too, as if he was telling him a secret. “Al, promise me you’ll never stop looking for a way to kill me.”

Alastor’s tongue felt too big for his mouth, but he found the wherewithal to swear, “I promise.”

Lucifer’s smile was the most beautiful Alastor had ever seen on anyone’s face. It was blinding, soft, and filled with a kind of hope that left him speechless.

Alastor moved the hand under Lucifer’s to intertwine their fingers. The king pressed their palms together with a giggle of joy. Alastor might be wrong to think this way, but this moment felt genuine to him, as if there was no pretending between them anymore.

Lucifer’s dearest wish was to die, and Alastor’s deepest desire was to kill him. Their needs aligned.

“Thank you,” Lucifer told him.

Alastor didn’t have to pretend to smile.

Chapter Text

For the rest of the afternoon, Lucifer brought Alastor to more establishments he could have never fathomed. He stood by as Lucifer interacted with all kinds of Hellborns, except for imps, and had sex with most of them.

If you excluded the explicit parts, it was interesting to see. Everyone recognized Lucifer with barely a glance, and they all knew their place with him implicitly. As such, the few imps they came across steered clear of him, but the other species gladly interacted with him. The sex demons seemed especially enamored with him, but even the Hellhounds, most of them on leashes, came up to him for pats.

To see those huge werewolf beg Lucifer for affection like dogs was jarring, especially when it inexplicably turned into sex.

Alastor was starting to see the King of Hell had a reputation for being an amazing lay on this Ring. Much to his dismay, he was well placed to know it was well earned. If you put aside how he didn’t care about consent, Lucifer was indeed an extremely talented lover.

It did beg one question. Alastor knew for a fact he could become violent during sex. He demonstrated that unequivocally by how he treated Husk’s body, but also during their first time. Lucifer enjoyed raping people. Alastor of all people would never be able to deny that.

However, whatever power kept him from harming sinners didn’t apply to any other kind of demons. Lucifer could harm Hellborns if he wanted to, and yet, he didn’t unless they were asking for it. You could argue about whether any of his lovers could truly consent, but it did look like Lucifer was at least putting the minimal effort of asking permission and respecting boundaries.

In fact, it looked more and more to Alastor like he particularly enjoyed giving his lovers what they wanted most, which wasn’t a conclusion that aligned in any way with his vision of him.

Another interesting fact was that Lucifer gladly interacted with the few Goetic demons they came across, but he never offered to have sex with them. The owl demons seemed to know implicitly that it wasn’t an option and never propositioned him either. The most puzzling part was that Lucifer proved he held them in high esteem by showing them unbridled, if platonic, affection, and calling them by name, before they needed to introduce themselves. And yet, they were off limit to him as lovers.

Was it because he created them? It seemed Lucifer had a deep aversion to interacting inappropriately with whoever he considered his children. Alastor wondered if his ducks were in that category. It would certainly explain a lot.

Sometimes, Alastor was allowed to step outside; other times, he had to stay and watch. Lucifer kept inviting him to join in, but he didn’t insist when Alastor chose not to. One time, he manifested his leash and kept holding onto it as an Incubus was fucking him, forcing eye contact with Alastor the entire time, but that was as far as he went.

They kissed between each venue, deep and hard. Alastor initiated most of the time, but Lucifer did a couple times too.

Alastor wasn’t shocked anymore when they stepped inside what looked like a kennel for Hellhounds. As he came to expect in this layer, this establishment was about purchasing sex.

Only in Hell would anyone consider breeding ‘dogs’ for sexual use. Alastor was especially annoyed by how normalized ‘bestiality’ was, or treating people as animals.

Like the brothel they stepped into, they were given a menu with names and descriptions. However, the descriptions were worded very differently, as if they were talking about dogs instead of beings that could talk and had a rich inner life.

Lucifer made him pick one too, but, thankfully, Alastor found towards the end of the menu a section where sex was not only not the goal, but prohibited. It was surprising, to be sure, but some people indeed wanted to pet and cuddle Hellhounds, not fuck them. Small mercies.

Alastor picked one at random without reading the description, but he did make note of their name. It seemed like the least he could do.

As for Lucifer, Alastor was surprised to see him pick the most aggressive one of the bunch. He was male, too, and apparently well endowed.

It wasn’t a surprise that he could bottom. If this day confirmed anything, it was that Lucifer was a true vers, but Alastor assumed everything he did was to assert dominance. If this could make him feel in control, Alastor had no idea how.

Lucifer sent him a knowing smile, but he didn’t explain. Horny people were indeed a mystery to Alastor.

He was lead to a room with both a couch and a bed. It would have been a nice room, especially compared to the brothel, if it didn’t contain a cage. It was so small the Hellhound barely fit inside it, even while laying on the floor. Standing would be impossible, unless on all fours.

Alastor was tempted to ignore the elephant in the room, but, in the end, he couldn’t do it. He didn’t care about this particular person, but he knew he could easily have been the one in the cage. To say this entire situation was triggering to him would be an understatement. He didn’t have it in him to be complicit when no one was watching.

After a growl of frustration, Alastor walked to the cage and unlocked the gate. The Hellhound stepped out of it on all fours. They were dressed in androgynous clothes, and it was impossible to tell if they were a man, a woman or something else entirely.

Alastor considered sitting on the couch with a book, but this day had been too long and it was far from over. He didn’t think he would have another occasion to have a bed at his disposal without any expectations of sex. He should make use of it and take a nap.

He pulled the blanket back and gave it a once over. It looked spotless and smelled of fresh linen. Still, he willed it clean in his mind before sitting on it. He removed his shoes with his hands, the small, innocuous gesture comforting, before he burrowed under the cover and closed his eyes.

He was falling asleep when he felt the bed shift. He opened his eyes to a huge, hulking figure climbing the bed and let out a shrill scream. It scared the Hellhound who jumped off and ran away.

Rubbing his face to wake himself up, Alastor sat to find the demon curled up in a tiny, shaking ball in a corner.

Sighing, he asked, “Your name is Loona, right?”

The Hellhound whimpered, but didn’t speak.

“I’m Alastor,” he went on, unsure of where he was going with this. “I’m not going to hurt you. I was only startled.”

They stopped making noises, but their body was still shaking. They looked over their knees at him with eyes overflowing with tears. Alastor was struck by how much this position made them look like a human. A dog wouldn’t be able to hug their legs like that.

“Don’t you want cuddles?” The Hellhound asked in a girlish voice.

The realization fell on him like a sack of brick: this Hellhound was a child. He assumed she was an adult because of her size, but, now that he was looking properly, she did have the appearance and voice of a preteen. In human years, he would estimate her to be around twelve years old.

He tried to remember what the menu said, until he remembered he could teleport it in his hands. He opened it and perused all the sections, his heart beating fast in his chest. He didn’t notice the puppy section the first time. It was hidden at the very end.

The reason why there was a section for cuddles was because they were in training, or, in other words, underage. At least, the young Hellhounds weren’t put on sale for sexual use until they reached their majority, but Alastor knew a rule like that didn’t mean much. The Hellhounds were groomed into being obedient. It wasn’t like they would fight back if a client got ideas. He also imagined the staff were encouraged to turn a blind eye to any sign of abuse.

Some of those puppies weren’t even one year old. The fact that it listed their age alone was frankly disgusting.

Alastor leaned on the side and threw up on the floor. He heard Loona whimper again, but it only made him retch more.

Breathing hard, Alastor cleaned the floor and his mouth with his magic. He manifested himself a small glass of water and sipped on it while reading Loona’s description once more.

Loona is a young pup, but she’s happy to be here! She enjoys head pats and loves to be scratched behind the ears. She’s a good girl, but she can bite if she feels threatens, so watch out for her teeth!

“I’m sorry,” she whined.

She sounded so scared.

Alastor put away the menu.

“I’m so sorry, I’ll behave, I promise,” the Hellhound went on, pressing her body closer to the wall.

“I didn’t know Master didn’t like that, I can be a good girl, I promise,” she went on.

Alastor didn’t know what to do. Was there anything to do? Who was to blame for this depraved establishment? Would killing them change anything? Even if he freed this one Hellhound, what would he do with her? He wasn’t in a place to offer her better options.

This was systemic. Hellhounds had no chances at freedom, no matter what he did.

“Please,” the girl whined.

Trying to change this system would put him in jeopardy. Alastor couldn’t waste his time and efforts trying to save an entire race he wasn’t a part of.

“I’m sorry,” she cried.

Alastor wasn’t kind. He deserved his place in Hell and he was happy to be here. He wasn’t his mother, he wasn’t Husk, he wasn’t Blitzo, but, more importantly, he could never allow himself to be Loona.

“I’m not mad,” Alastor insisted again. “Come here.”

His throat burned.

Tentatively, the girl fell on all fours and stepped closer. Alastor laid back down and patted the other side of the double bed. She jumped on the mattress, but she was careful when she curled up besides him. They weren’t touching, and she was above the blanket while he was under it. Even so, he could feel her heat radiating from where she laid and he could smell the soap she used. Something sweet like vanilla.

She smelled like a girl, not a dog.

“No cuddles?” She asked in a tiny voice.

Closing his eyes, Alastor told her, “Let’s just sleep.”

She didn’t protest. Despite everything, Alastor quickly fell asleep.

He woke up before his time was over. Loona was snoring besides him. She looked comfortable. Quietly, he stood up from the bed and made it to the door. He was told he was supposed to bring her back in her cage, but, frankly, it was above him to wake her up. She deserved all the rest she could get. He only hoped she wouldn’t get in trouble because of it.

Alastor walked briskly until he reached outside. He took in a deep breath and lit himself a cigarette to calm down.

He hated this Ring. When he would manage to kill Lucifer and take his throne, he would burn it all down.

His owner stepped out with a limp, but his smile was satisfied. Alastor caught him when he fell on his body and cradled him in his arms, wondering how much of this was his fault.

“Fuck, that was good,” Lucifer informed him dreamily. “It kept trying to bite my neck off. What a good time!”

He was laughing. Alastor tightened his hold on him before he slipped. Should he summon his angelic blade and kill him right now? It wouldn’t be permanent, but it might help his frustration.

Lucifer pulled his face back to look up at him. The glint of mischief in his eyes felt especially cruel in this context. “Honey, why the long face? Was it so awful in there?”

Yes, Alastor thought. To Lucifer, he asked, “They spend their whole lives in there, from their births to their deaths. Doesn’t that feel wrong to you?”

Lucifer looked at him quizzically. “Why would it?”

There was so much to say, but no words. His expression must have been comical, because Lucifer started to laugh.

“They’re just Hellhounds,” Lucifer expanded. “They’re treated well in there, far better than other places. I come here because it’s the most humane. I promise they’re kept happy and well fed. They go on walks, they even get treats. It’s great for them.”

Alastor gritted his teeth, forcing his protests back down where they belonged. It wasn’t his fight.

“Al, don’t tell me you feel bad for them? That doesn’t sound like you.”

Lucifer truly looked puzzled. He didn’t see how Alastor, who wasn’t especially compassionate, could sympathize with Hellhounds. How privileged did his life have to be, to be so blind to how similar their situations were? Did he truly not see how easily Alastor could be the one in those cages?

“I don’t,” Alastor lied through gritted teeth.

Lucifer eyed him dubiously, but he decided to drop it. Stepping back, he pulled out his pocket watch and exclaimed, “It’s time for dinner.”

Alastor sighed in relief. Maybe this horrible day could finally end and he could go back to his schemes. He wanted to put Loona and all of this Ring out of his mind as soon as possible.

Instead of walking, Lucifer teleported them in front of another establishment. Alastor looked up at the flashing, neon sign that presented it as Ozzie’s. He was happy to see the familiar name. The prospect of gaining more information about Lucifer’s past perked him right up.

They had to get past a bouncer who let them in as soon as he recognized Lucifer. They were given the best seat in the venue without having to ask.

Their table was bigger than he expected for a place that appeared focused on romance. Alastor sat down and looked around. There was a stage for performances, but it was empty for now. At multiple tables sat down couples exclusively. Alastor did notice they were all the same species. Of course, no one would dare come into a place like this with a date of another species. It was a plan to get caught and executed right away.

They were the only exception to this rule. As a sinner, Alastor once more attracted many eyes, but he heard people whispering about Lucifer too.

He learned during the day how to filter out what he could hear. As convenient as his power was, it could easily become overwhelming. He could place a barrier on specific people or establish a radius around him. Even though rumors could be useful to know, Alastor decided to filter out everyone who wasn’t near his table.

A server came to offer them champagne. Lucifer accepted for him, even if he didn’t touch the glass he was brought. Alastor took his coupe glass and brought it to his mouth. He would usually make a toast, or at least clink his glass with Lucifer, but the king didn’t seem interested in those kinds of social niceties. His head was laying on his arms without any sense of decorum, and he was drinking from his sippy cup and staring unblinkingly at him.

He looked like a child. Alastor felt the need to scold him, but, instead, he took a sip. Champagne wasn’t his drink of choice, but he had to admit he enjoyed the bubbles for once. If there was one perk to being the executioner, it was access to good alcohol.

The server came back around to bring them menus. Lucifer didn’t so much as reach to take his, but the server seemed to expect this reaction and only offered it as a courtesy. For his meal, Alastor asked for the chef’s special and red wine.

After they were left alone, Lucifer stretched above the table, but, seeing he couldn’t reach him, he teleported Alastor closer to him. He could have moved himself, but, no, of course he had to displace him instead.

At least Lucifer brought his chair and glass with him. He looked up at him with a teasing smile, as if he was a kid playing a trick. Alastor sighed, but he didn’t protest when the king grabbed his arm and hugged it tight.

Lucifer seemed happy to cuddle with him in silence. For someone who had a disgusting amount of sex for one day, he was clingy. Then again, Alastor supposed that was his role, as his wife, to give him affection.

The server didn’t blink an eye at their new position and seamlessly put a plate in front of him. Alastor didn’t recognize the meal at all, but it was delicious. Whoever this Ozzie person was had good taste.

Lucifer appeared himself a plate of pancakes drenched in syrup. He let go of his arm to eat, but he kept his shoulder pressed to his. From time to time, he would look up at him with something approaching affection.

Alastor saw him drop syrup on his pants and cleaned it for him without thinking. Lucifer giggled and thanked him, neither offended nor embarrassed.

He was almost half way through his meal when someone appeared on stage. He removed the audio filter around their table to hear the crowd had calmed down and music was playing. There was a band in one corner of the stage, but the main show seemed to be various artists dancing and singing to the music.

They were talented, Alastor would give them that, but they only sang about love and lust. It became boring fast to him, but Lucifer seemed to be entertained. He clapped when appropriate and cheered for the entertainers.

When Alastor was brought dessert, he asked for a whiskey that was quickly given to him. Lucifer only ate a couple bites of his pancakes, but, seeing his crème brûlée, he decided to appear himself a dessert too. It was one simple cupcake with rainbow colored frosting. It was hard to tell without tasting it, but Alastor only smelled vanilla from it.

Lucifer took the cupcake in his hands and proceeded to lick the frosting straight off it. Alastor assumed it was his own weird method of eating it at first, but, once the frosting was gone, Lucifer put the rest of the cupcake down without biting into it once. Not long after, it disappeared, along with the plate.

Alastor was left to wonder why he didn’t only summon frosting, if that was all he wanted to eat.

Deciding not to ask questions he didn’t want the answers to, Alastor ate the excellent crème brûlée in silence. The last song was performed by a duo of an imp dressed like a clown and a huge demon whose species Alastor didn’t recognize. He was huge, with three faces, and looked eerily like a chicken.

The song informed him that the imp was called Fizzarolli and the other demon was the famous Ozzie. He also learned that Ozzie was short for Asmodeus, a connection he would have never thought to make.

His real identity made everything clear. He was the Sin of Lust. The important meeting Lucifer mentioned must be with him.

As if on cue, Asmodeus stepped off the stage and came to their table with his show partner sitting comfortably on his shoulder.

“Luci!” He exclaimed happily. “I’m so happy you came to my restaurant.”

“Of course, Ozzie, you know I love your shows,” Lucifer answered.

He walked around the table as Fizzarolli climbed down and stood by. Like all imps, he seemed to know not to go in Lucifer’s vicinity.

Lucifer jumped on Asmodeus and the Sin of Lust caught him in his arms. He twirled him around like a child before giving him a heartfelt hug. Lucifer looked just as pleased to be squished in his embrace.

Asmodeus carefully put the king back on his seat. That was the moment he noticed he wasn’t alone.

“You brought your new executioner?” He asked in an uncertain voice. “I heard Husky passed away. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“My name is Alastor,” he interjected before Lucifer could pretend to be saddened by Husk’s death.

The Sin hesitated, but opted to offer him a hand. Alastor shook it. His handshake was firm, but not painful.

“Nice to meet you, Alastor. I’m Asmodeus, but everyone calls me Ozzie.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Alastor answered politely.

Turning back to Lucifer, the Sin informed him, “I’m going to head back, but take your time. You know where to find me.”

To Alastor’s utter shock, Asmodeus leaned down and kissed Lucifer full on the lips. He couldn’t take his eyes away as Lucifer kissed him back with way too much tongue. There was a string of saliva connecting their mouths when they separated.

Lucifer caressed his cheek lovingly and told him, “I’ll see you later, Ozzie.”

Asmodeus grinned, then walked away. Alastor caught Fizzarolli eyeing them with squinted eyes. His frown changed into a smile as soon as Asmodeus addressed him and they left together, with the imp on his business partner’s shoulder.

Alastor wanted to observe their dynamic more, but Lucifer cupped his face and made him face him. Without a word, he leaned up to kiss him. It was surprisingly chaste, especially after the deep kiss he gave Asmodeus.

He nuzzled his cheek, then pushed his face in his neck. Alastor felt compelled to embrace him as Lucifer fell on his lap, sitting sideways.

“I’m sleepy,” he confessed in a heavy voice.

“You didn’t have your nap,” Alastor pointed out.

He carded his fingers through his soft hair. Lucifer didn’t wear his crown once since the throne room, and he didn’t wear hats either. Despite himself, Alastor appreciated the texture. He didn’t think he ever touched anything that soft before.

“Lemme sleep a little,” Lucifer asked.

“Here?” Alastor confirmed.

“I’m comfy,” Lucifer admitted. “You’re comfy.”

Alastor chuckled. He wanted to add more, but he felt the king’s breathing deepened. He was already gone like a light.

Looking up, Alastor noticed the other patrons leaving, but nobody came to kick them out. He put a sound bubble around them and closed his eyes too. He wasn’t about to fall asleep, but the embrace was nicer than it had any right to be.

Slowly, deliberately, he caressed Lucifer’s blond hair, and synced his breathing with his.

The king woke up half an hour later. He pulled back with a yawn, then rubbed his face. When he looked up at him with tiny eyes, Alastor expected him to argue he wanted five more minutes.

Instead, Lucifer told him, “You’re good at that.”

Alastor’s hand stilled in his hair. Lucifer chuckled and protested, “Don’t stop!”

After a second of hesitation, he started his ministrations again. Lucifer let out a moan that didn’t sound as sexual as it could have been.

The king closed his eyes, nuzzled his neck again and told him, “I love you, Al.”

He was so light in his arms, so hot. Alastor felt like he was cradling a child, and yet, he was the young one between them.

How Lucifer could utter those words so easily baffled him. Whether he meant them or not didn’t matter. Alastor certainly didn’t have the same ease as he did.

“I-I love you too, Lucifer,” Alastor stuttered.

He didn’t know why this second time felt harder than the first, but he hoped it would get easier from now on.

He felt Lucifer’s lips stretch in a smile against his throat. It looked like he was convincing enough.

Lucifer slid his hands up Alastor’s chest to circle his shoulders. He teased the hair on his nape while leaving small, open mouthed kisses on his neck. He teased his Adam’s apple with his tongue, then nibbled playfully at his jaw.

“We should get going,” Alastor argued. His breath was short already.

Lucifer pulled back to look at him, sliding his hands back to cup his cheeks.

“You’re such a buzzkill sometimes, honey,” Lucifer accused him teasingly.

“Asmodeus is waiting for you,” Alastor reminded him.

That argument got through. Lucifer pouted, but he dutifully stood up. Once more, he offered his hand to Alastor to help him up. Yet again, he didn’t take it.

“Everyone calls him Ozzie,” Lucifer insisted, taking his hand.

Before Alastor could answer, he was being teleported.

They landed in a huge penthouse. Alastor looked towards the floor to ceiling windows, impressed. As he thought, the sky was by far the best feature of this layer. Alastor loved red, but Pride’s sky made everything too bright.

He could see the stars better too. He couldn’t tell if they were different than on Earth, but they were just as beautiful. Alastor was enveloped by a nice feeling of nostalgia that was unfortunately broken by Lucifer pulling on his hand.

Their eyes met. There wasn’t a lot of light in this penthouse, and what came from outside softened his traits again. It made his smile kinder, his eyes more melancholic, the red on his cheeks more like a natural blush.

Lucifer opened his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted.

“Lu!” Asmodeus called. “There you are. I was starting to worry you wouldn’t show up.”

Lucifer chuckled as if embarrassed. Alastor watched him as he let go of his hand and walked to his fellow Sin.

“I would never ditch you, Ozzie,” Lucifer pretended, touching his arm in apparent affection.

Asmodeus’ awkward laugh made it clear he would, and in fact did, ditch him.

“Come on, let’s sit down, babe,” Asmodeus insisted.

He lead Lucifer towards plush chairs. They sat face to face, with a small table between them.

Alastor approached slowly. He noticed the lack of a third chair. He could take one from another part of the room or appear a brand new one, but he opted to stay standing instead. He stopped on Lucifer’s left. He didn’t lean on his chair, but put one hand on the back of it, near his head.

Asmodeus’ eyes stopped on his hand, before moving to his eyes. He sent him a wide smile, then turned back to Lucifer.

Lucifer appeared his cane and, crossing his legs, he rubbed on the apple intently. “So, how’s business, Ozzie? Everything fine in Lust?”

“Of course,” the demon answered. “My restaurant is always sold out, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. Business is blooming.”

“That partner of yours,” Lucifer went on. Alastor noticed his smile turned crooked. “You’ve been making shows with it for a while. Are you sure it’s...” He marked a rather ominous pause, before going on in a sinister voice, “worth it?”

Asmodeus gulped audibly, even at a distance. “Fizz makes me a ton of money, Luci. People love clowns! They’re funny and entertaining. Plus, he’s very fuckable. I’m sure even you would agree.”

Lucifer hummed, then tapped on the apple with his nails. “Mammon is the one making money with the sex dolls, or so I hear.”

His discomfort was palpable. “Sure, but Fizz designs amazing sex toys for me, and the money he makes from shows goes all to me. We had a significant raise in sales since he started helping me. I can show you the numbers if you want.”

Lucifer eyed him in a silence that was a tad too long. “That won’t be necessary,” he insisted. “I’m only watching out for you, Ozzie. We wouldn’t want rumors you’re in love with an imp, would we?”

He put a heavy emphasis on the words ‘in love’. The guilty expression on Asmodeus’ face said it all. Alastor had an inkling since the moment he saw their musical number, but it was now confirmed: they were secretly a couple. Or perhaps not so secretly.

If dating a Goetic demon was a capital offense, Alastor could only imagine what kind of punishment an imp would face for dating a Sin.

“Luci, I would never put my reputation in danger for an imp,” Asmodeus pretended almost convincingly. “Frankly, I’m offended you think I would.”

Lucifer hummed again, his eyes squinted. Then, suddenly, he waved it all off with his hand, laughing.

“Of course not,” he went on in a dangerously light tone. “You would never betray me like that, would you? You know what I think about imps.”

“You hate them,” Asmodeus admitted with something close to a pout.

“I don’t hate them,” Lucifer argued with audible disdain. “I only think they should do well to remember where they stand.”

Asmodeus opened his mouth to argue, but, in the end, he sighed and didn’t say anything. As for Alastor, he gritted his teeth and swallowed any protests he might have.

“They make good slaves, but give them one inch and they’ll take a mile. They need a firm hand, just like their creator. You should never trust a free imp, Ozzie, they are bad news.”

“Fizz isn’t free,” Asmodeus argued. He looked like he regretted speaking out loud, but he didn’t take it back either.

“It doesn’t belong to you, though, does it?” Lucifer added, a point of sadism in his voice. “Mammon owns its leash, not you. It’s a mystery he lets you loan it.”

“He only owns half of his soul,” Asmodeus explained through gritted teeth. “Fizz has to do as Mammon says when he summons him, but, the rest of the time, he’s free.”

Lucifer rolled his cane around his hand. Alastor studied his expression. As always, it was hard to tell, but he looked like he was having fun.

“And it chooses to spend its free time with you?”

Asmodeus wisely chose not to answer that question.

“Anything else happened since last month?” Lucifer asked with a fake smile.

“N-nothing much,” Asmodeus scrambled to answer. “I had to close down a Hellhound kennel because it didn’t pass the health check, but otherwise it was pretty quiet. I wrote all the details down in my report to Stolas.”

Lucifer waved it off. Making his cane disappear, he stood up, walked around the table and pushed one knee between Asmodeus’. He completely ignored Alastor. In fact, neither of them looked his way since they started talking.

“Now, how about we get to the real reason I’m here?”

Alastor turned away before he had to see them kiss. He would have gone to another room, but it was a penthouse. There weren’t any other rooms.

He considered teleporting back to the palace, but he was worried it would anger Lucifer. As he looked around for a nook to hide in, Alastor noticed there was a patio door leading to a rather large balcony.

Discreetly, he slid the door opened and stepped outside. He was closing the door behind him when he realized he wasn’t alone. Leaning against the railing, smoking a cigarette and looking at the sky forlornly, was Fizzarolli.

Alastor walked up to him and, without saying a word, appeared himself a cigarette. The imp glanced his way and winced, but he didn’t say anything.

They shared an awkwardly long silence until Fizzarolli decided to break it, “So, you’re the new executioner, huh?”

“The name’s Alastor,” he offered politely.

“I remember,” the imp interjected roughly.

They both took another long drag, one after the other, before Fizzarolli spoke up once more. “What’s it like, working for the Devil?”

Was he about to have his third heart to heart of the day? Alastor had about enough of emotional talks already, but he figured he shouldn’t shoot down this opportunity to gather more information. If he was lucky enough, he might make himself an ally.

“Horrible,” Alastor admitted with a point of humor.

“Yeah,” Fizzarolli answered knowingly. “They’re all the fucking same, huh?”

Even though it might work against him, Alastor had to point out the obvious. “And yet, you’re dating one of them.”

Fizzarolli didn’t even startle. Instead, he let out an impressively long sigh.

“Ozzie isn’t the same,” he argued with a chuckle. “But saying that just makes me sound like a fucking moron.”

“It does,” Alastor agreed.

Fizzarolli chuckled again, self-deprecatingly. “It’s true, though. Believe me or not, I don’t fucking care.”

“He takes all your money,” Alastor argued.

“You think an imp can afford to be rich?” Fizzarolli scoffed. “He pays for all I need, even stuff I just want, and he gives me food, a job I actually love, a bed.”

“A bed he shares,” Alastor cut in.

“He loves me,” Fizzarolli argued heatedly. There were tears in his eyes.

Alastor thought back to Lucifer and Asmodeus’ conversation. There was no doubt the Sin of Lust loved Fizzarolli, but how far would he go for him? Would he protect him if Lucifer decided he wanted him dead?

What about Stolas? Would he kill Blitzo if Lucifer asked him to?

From what he could gather, Fizzarolli was a talented entertainer and designer. Alastor would bet anything he was a better artist than Mammon, who he knew was the Sin of Greed, or even Asmodeus. And yet, here he was, hiding in both of their shadows, simply because of the species he was born as.

For him to fall in love with one of them was nothing short of a betrayal to his entire race, not to mention his dignity.

“Is he worth it?” Alastor found himself echoing Lucifer’s question.

The reply came instantly, with unwavering conviction, “Yes.”

Alastor would never understand love. Nothing could be worth humiliating himself like that.

His jaw tightened. He was being a hypocrite, wasn’t he? He didn’t do it for love, but he was the same as Fizzarolli. Was it any better that he betrayed himself and his entire race for hate if, in the end, he was just as trapped?

“Is it worth it?” Fizzarolli asked back. “Being his executioner?”

Alastor didn’t answer. He took a slow drag of his cigarette and looked at the night sky. It was the only part of this Ring that didn’t paint a cruel light on everything.

“You’re very different from Husk,” Fizzarolli commented.

Alastor glanced his way. The imp was staring at the sky, deep in thought.

“What was he like?”

“I only met him once or twice, but he was nothing like I expected. You,” he pointed at him for emphasis, “look exactly like what I imagined an executioner to be.”

“And what is that?”

“Power hungry, loves to kill, manipulates people for a living, probably a cannibal.”

Alastor shrugged. All of these applied.

“But Husk was different. Even Ozzie says he never saw an executioner like him, and he’s seen all of them. He always looked like he didn’t want to kill anyone, which is kind of crazy, since that was his only job.”

“Was he so weak?” Alastor commented.

Fizzarolli laughed. It sounded a bit pained. “You’re the one who killed him, you would know better.”

“He was my first job,” Alastor confirmed.

“I never spoke to him, but I respected him a lot,” Fizzarolli confessed. “I always felt he was able to stay true to himself even in the worst of circumstances.”

“It got him killed,” Alastor argued.

Fizzarolli flicked his cigarette stub down in the city below them. “Yeah, well, a lot of things gets you killed. At least, he died being loved by everyone around him. Will you be able to say the same?”

Alastor gritted his teeth. “Lucifer didn’t love him.”

Fizzarolli sent him a crooked smile. “Are you sure?”

Before he could argue more, the imp turned his back on him, waved and walked back inside. Alastor wordlessly turned back to the glimmering lights of the city and tossed his cigarette butt too. Quietly, he lit himself a new one.

He never smoked so much in one day, but he thought he deserved it, especially since, in Hell, their soothing effect didn’t last very long.

He was left alone to simmer with his thoughts for a long time. He smoked cigarette after cigarette, trying to process everything that happened that day, until the door was slid opened behind him.

He glanced over his shoulder to find Lucifer. Instead of his previous white and red suit, he was wearing a dark pink robe with lighter pink fluff along the seams. It was askew, showing off his unblemished collarbone and shoulder. He looked like a courtesan about to seduce a lord.

Even from where he stood, Alastor could smell sex on him like a cheap perfume.

“Honey, there you are!” Lucifer exclaimed. He walked up to his side and commented, “You disappeared. I almost thought you went back to the palace.”

“I assumed you didn’t need me in there,” Alastor commented dryly. He was feeling on edge, even with all the cigarettes he just smoked.

Lucifer chuckled. “I’m sure Ozzie would have loved to get to know you better. He doesn’t get to bed sinners often.”

It was as if their previous conversation had been completely erased. Did Lucifer forget he didn’t like sex? Or did he enjoy making him squirm?

When Alastor stayed silent, Lucifer sighed and admitted, “Come on, Al, laugh! It was a joke.”

“Was it?” He challenged.

They looked each other in the eyes. Lucifer looked away first, but Alastor’s victory was short lived.

“Gimme,” Lucifer asked, making a grabbing motion towards his cigarette.

Alastor was so surprised he gave it to him without a second thought. Lucifer didn’t look like the smoking type. Cigarettes didn’t go well with ducks and sippy cups, but he supposed they went well with sex.

Entranced, Alastor stared as Lucifer grabbed the cigarette between his index and middle finger and brought it between his lips. He inhaled with practiced ease and held the smoke inside for the right amount of time before exhaling it through his mouth.

Once he was done, he put the hand with the smoke on the railing and glanced up at him with a smile. “What, is it so surprising that I can smoke?”

Alastor swallowed. “You don’t drink alcohol, so I assumed you wouldn’t like it either.”

“Nothing has any effects on me,” Lucifer explained. “I hate the taste of alcohol, but I always loved to smoke. The action itself is kind of soothing, even if I don’t get the benefits.”

He took another drag and let it out before explaining, “It loses its charm when I do it too often, though.”

Alastor tore his eyes away from him to look at the beautiful city below. His nails clicked against the railing impatiently. He wanted to summon himself another smoke, but he figured Lucifer might take it personally.

It wouldn’t do much for his nerves, anyway. Nothing could help as long as his owner was besides him, playfully pushing his shoulder against his, wearing a revealing robe and not even shoes.

A hand landed on his shoulder, gently forcing him to turn to the side. Its fingers glided up to cup his cheek, with the thumb pushing on his chin. Alastor’s jaw slackened as he watched Lucifer leaning up to him, a teasing glint in his eyes.

Their lips barely touched. Alastor felt the familiar smoke tickling his tongue. By habit more than design, he inhaled it.

Lucifer pulled back with a chuckle. He looked young, unassuming, a little bit in love, playful. Alastor loved this night sky, but he hated the way its light cast Lucifer’s face in gentle tones.

“That’s the part I prefer,” Lucifer revealed. That was far less shocking.

Alastor swallowed. Lucifer didn’t push his tongue in his mouth, but he could taste the apples and honey mixing with the nicotine.

As if in a trance, Alastor reached for the cigarette and pulled it from Lucifer’s fingers. The king didn’t resist and only looked up at him with interest. There was not a sign of cruelty on his face, and the hand resting on the crook of his neck felt hot, branding, but it didn’t hurt.

Lucifer couldn’t hurt him.

Alastor took in a drag and surged forward. He pushed his lips against Lucifer’s and exhaled in his mouth. Lucifer greedily breathed in his air and, before he knew it, their tongues were intertwined together.

His hand rested on the railing. The cigarette burned until the stub fell from his fingers.

How many times had they kissed today? Since they met? And yet, it never ceased to affect Alastor in ways he couldn’t afford to think about.

Lucifer was the first to pull away. Alastor chased after his mouth, until Lucifer put two firm hands on his shoulders.

“Easy, tiger,” Lucifer whispered with humor. “Or I’m gonna start to think you wanna eat me.”

I want to breath your air again, Alastor found himself thinking. I want to steal it from your lungs until you choke and die in my arms.

“Did that get you going?” Lucifer asked. His thigh pressed between Alastor’s legs. “Fuck, it did?”

Even as he felt his cheeks heating up, Alastor shoved Lucifer until he reached the wall. The king humphed, but he didn’t protest. In fact, he laid back against the wall as if that was his idea all along.

“I thought you weren’t affected by anyone?” Lucifer quoted his words back at him, breathless.

“I want to kill you,” Alastor confessed in his mouth.

“Give me la petite mort maybe,” Lucifer argued with humor. “You’re gonna stab me to death with that?” He grabbed his hard dick and gave it a good squeeze.

Alastor’s sound was halfway between a moan and a hiss.

“I’m willing to give it a try, but I don’t think it’s gonna work,” Lucifer joked.

Alastor growled. He wanted to hurt him so badly his body was vibrating with it.

Something must have gone wrong with his power, because it manifested his mic in his hand unprompted. Perplexed, Alastor stared at the red, white and black mic. He was about to throw it away in a fit of anger, but he misjudged the distance and scratched Lucifer’s cheek.

“Ouch,” the king let out.

Transfixed, Alastor stared at his cheek, where the sharp tip of his mic had sliced a small cut. He watched a drop of blood form and glide down to his neck in silence.

Did he just hurt Lucifer? By accident? With his mic of all things?

Once more, he stared at the mic, but it didn’t look any different than before. Bewildered, he used his other hand to try and draw blood on Lucifer’s other cheek, to no avail. To make sure, he used his nail on his own hand and watched the red blood coming out.

Nothing made sense, until it clicked.

“Your power can hurt you,” Alastor mumbled.

He looked up to find Lucifer’s eyes. They were filled with affection.

“Clever boy, you’re figuring it out already,” Lucifer praised him, his tone laced with snark.

“I can hurt you if I use your power,” Alastor repeated. He needed to speak the words out loud to follow this string of logic. “But I can’t hurt you when I’m not using your power, and you still can’t hurt me.”

“Are you sure about that?” Lucifer asked casually. Alastor ignored him.

“That means I’m still a sinner,” Alastor concluded. “What you said about me being only an extension of your power–”

“–was complete bullshit,” Lucifer finished for him. He looked giddy.

“I’m still a sinner,” Alastor repeated. He didn’t realize how much it affected him, to think Lucifer stole a huge part of his identity from him, until it was given back to him.

“Yup,” Lucifer confirmed for him. “You can leave Pride because you can use my power to override the protection around it. That’s really all there is to it.”

Alastor’s mouth felt dry. “Why?”

Lucifer hummed in question.

“Why would you lie about something so inconsequential? What was the point?”

Lucifer smiled. “I wanted to see how long it would take you to figure it out. A day isn’t so bad, but you lose points because it was an accident.”

Alastor looked down at his mic. Did his power interpret his need to harm Lucifer and gave him the tool to do it? Come to think of it, he never thought about summoning his angelic blade. All he wanted was to make him bleed.

“It wasn’t,” Alastor admitted. “I thought about hurting you and your power gave me the means to do it.”

“Huh,” Lucifer let out. “I guess that works.”

Alastor threw the mic on the floor and opened Lucifer’s robe. The king yelped in surprise, but he looked pleased by his boldness. Before he lost his momentum, Alastor manifested his shadow tentacles and cut off Lucifer’s dick.

Once more, he asked himself: was it worth it?

As he felt heat blossom in his chest, Alastor decided that, yes, this moment was worth all of it.

Lucifer screamed in pain. In front of his watering eyes, Alastor brought the dick to his mouth and ate it bit by bit. It was by far the most delicious meal he ever ate.

Lucifer’s body shook from shock, but his face didn’t show hate or disdain. Alastor was disappointed to see pleasure mixing with the pain.

“That’s one way to give a blowjob,” the king mumbled, panting between words.

Once he was done eating his dick, Alastor also consumed each of his testicles. His cum tasted like sour apples, bitter and yet still sweet.

Lucifer reached for his shoulders and embraced them. Using that new leverage, he hopped and curved both legs around Alastor’s hips. In order to keep his balance, Alastor grabbed his thighs and pushed him hard against the wall.

He was still wearing that horrible robe, even if it wasn’t hiding anything anymore. Alastor opened his fly magically and rubbed his dick against the bleeding wound, making them both moan.

“Fuck,” Lucifer screamed. “Fuck, that feels so fucking good!”

To shut him up, Alastor kissed him. He swallowed all his moans of pain or pleasure as he rubbed against the opened wound. The tip of his dick slid inside him a couple times, making him lightheaded with desire.

Far too fast, Alastor came. He did his best to rub his cum inside him too, between the lips of his wound. He wanted to mark him any way he could, even knowing it would fade away.

“Fuck,” Lucifer panted in his mouth. “That was so fucking hot.”

It would have been better if Lucifer wasn’t into it.

“Fuck, Al, I had no clue you had a rape kink,” Lucifer commented. “That’s why you don’t like sex! Your partners have always been a bit too into you, have they?”

That wasn’t right. Lucifer had to be wrong.

“Don’t worry, I’ll play into it next time,” Lucifer went on. “You want me to struggle, right? You want me unwilling and crying, begging for my life, and you want to deny me. That feeling of power makes you hot and bothered, doesn’t it? Hurting other people gets you off like nothing else could. I knew you were secretly a freaky pervert.”

That couldn’t be right.

“No,” Alastor protested.

Lucifer had a bright smile on his face. Alastor stared at the line of golden blood on his cheek. It made him look so much more deranged.

“I’ll play along and plead for you to stop raping me,” Lucifer went on, giddy and so impossibly cruel. “I’ll play the helpless victim for you, honey, and I’ll be convincing.”

Not even the light of the sky could soften this expression.

“So destroy me all you want, Al. I promise to enjoy every second of it.”

Chapter Text

What happened next was a blur. Alastor ended up in Lucifer’s bed. The king made them naked, but he didn’t initiate more. Was he tired after that long day of unending sex or was it another manipulation tactic? Alastor didn’t have the brain power to ask himself that question, let alone answer it.

Lucifer laid on his back, and he brought Alastor on top of him. He manifested his wings, but didn’t seal a cocoon around them. Instead, he covered Alastor’s body like a particularly light and soft blanket, up to his shoulders.

Closing his eyes, Alastor laid his cheek on Lucifer’s chest and listened to his heartbeat.

“There, there,” Lucifer soothed him, caressing his hair.

Alastor’s ears twitched under his touch.

“It’s alright,” Lucifer went on in a whisper. “Go to sleep, honey. Everything will be better tomorrow.”

He was warm and kept in a tight, but not painful, embrace, not unlike a baby swaddled in blankets and being comforted by a parent. Alastor wasn’t close enough to his emotions to feel anything about it.

Despite his owner’s insistence, Alastor didn’t sleep that night. He listened as Lucifer’s heartbeat slow down. The movement of his chest as he breathed in and out dispelled the fog in his brain.

It took half the night for his fingers to stop tingling, for his body to be his again, for his head to stop feeling light. He used the second half to painstakingly iron out all the emotions he felt the day before and fold them into neat piles. He opened a mental box and filled it to the brim.

With one last, deep exhale, Alastor closed the lid, turned the key in the lock and threw it away.

He was himself again.

Not long after, Lucifer stirred under him. Alastor crossed his arms on his chest, happy to feel his wings falling on his lower back, freeing his shoulders. Lucifer blinked his eyes opened, a lazy smile stretching his lips.

“Morning, honey,” he greeted him, his voice hoarse. “I’m happy you spent the night.”

His fingers playfully tapped their way up his arms to settle on his nape. Alastor leaned down when Lucifer pulled, meeting his lips in a greeting kiss.

“Good morning, dear,” Alastor answered, his voice heavy with snark. “I hope you slept well.”

“Feeling cheeky this morning, are we?” Lucifer commented. His tone was hard to read, but Alastor thought he sounded pleased.

“Can’t I inquire about my husband’s sleep?”

Alastor tested the word out. His night was well spent, because it only gave him light nausea.

Lucifer giggled. “Are we doing that now?”

“Isn’t that my role?” Alastor needled further. “I am meant to be your wife, after all.”

The king opened his legs beneath him and pressed his thighs against his hips sweetly. Using this new leverage, he gently rubbed his dick up on Alastor’s.

Slowly, his wings moved on top of him in intent caresses.

“I’ll be the wife this morning,” Lucifer chuckled. “You can take what’s yours, husband.”

Alastor rubbed back down on him. It didn’t take long for both of them to become hard. Lucifer was the one who guided him inside him, letting out a long satisfied sigh when he bottomed down.

Keeping him in place, Lucifer leaned up to kiss his cheek and told him cheerily, “Love you!”

Alastor wondered how many times he said those exact words, in that exact tone, and to how many people. When was the last time he meant them, if he ever did, and who had the privilege of hearing them for the first time?

Alastor was supposed to answer, but he couldn’t make the words go passed his lips. Fortunately, Lucifer didn’t seem to mind when he started to move without speaking.

Lucifer fell back down on the pillow and threw his head back in ecstasy. Alastor licked his throat, nibbled at his sweet skin. He yearned to make him bleed, but he didn’t think it would be allowed this morning. Lucifer would let him know when it would be time to hurt him.

Alastor didn’t forget yesterday’s words. Lucifer made him a promise Alastor would never be able to escape, and it was only a question of time before he held him up to it.

Lucifer called his name as he came, his eyes misted and his cheeks flushed. Alastor wasn’t attracted to people, but he could recognize beauty. He was tempted to compare Lucifer to Apollo, but he was sure the most beautiful of ancient gods would lose to him.

Describing his appearance was an exercise in futility. If he wanted, Lucifer could look like a kid, a doll, an angel, the King of Hell, the Devil, but, in bed, he looked like Lust. If Pride didn’t suit him so well, Alastor would think he was assigned to the wrong cardinal sin.

Alastor came too, kissing Lucifer’s loose lips. He fell down on him, his body already well used to his. Lucifer caressed his hair lazily, humming a song only he knew, and Alastor let it sooth him.

The warm, almost tender, moment was interrupted by someone knocking on the door. Before either of them had to ask, a voice announced its presence, “Father? We need to discuss your schedule for the upcoming days.”

Was it common, for Stolas to visit Lucifer in the mornings? It seemed like too big of a coincidence for it to happen the first time he spent the night.

“Come in,” Lucifer answered.

Alastor sank in his shadows and emerged fully dressed in a red and black striped suit, standing besides the bed. Lucifer sat up, a smirk on his lips. His wings disappeared as the door opened, and he took his time standing. What Alastor now knew to be his every day suit, white with red trimmings, appeared on his body. Seamlessly, he reached for his lapels and gave him a short kiss.

Stolas cleared his throat. Unbothered, Lucifer smiled brightly and poofed out of existence. He reappeared with his arms already around Stolas in a warm, paternal embrace.

“Stolas! I’m so happy to see you, I missed you,” Lucifer gushed.

The chancellor returned his hug with practiced ease. He looked as comfortable with Lucifer as he did with Blitzo, although he treated his father with reverence and not one trace of lust.

“You can visit my office any time you want, Father,” Stolas insisted petulantly. “I always have time for you.”

Lucifer pulled back, but he held Stolas’ shoulders firmly. “I’m sorry, sunshine, I’ll try to pop in more often,” Lucifer promised.

“It’s fine, I know you’re busy,” Stolas excused him with a wistful smile.

Lucifer smiled wide again. He let go of his shoulders to pinch his cheek affectionately. “You’re so cute!”

The praise made Stolas bashful, but undeniably happy.

“Let’s eat breakfast,” Lucifer suggested.

Alastor didn’t have time to blink before they were all sitting down at the table. Lucifer was on one side, with Stolas and Alastor facing each other. The owl demon wasn’t phased at all. He would be used to Lucifer’s fast pace.

An imp appeared at Lucifer’s side and the king asked them to bring breakfast before presumably sending them back to the kitchen. As they waited for the food to arrive, Stolas opened his notebook.

“Stolas, not before breakfast,” Lucifer scolded him. With a flick of his hand, he made the notebook disappear.

“I’m sorry, Father,” Stolas apologized, contrite.

Lucifer reached for his head and fluffed his feathers. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I love your dedication. I just want to enjoy a good meal as a family first.”

Stolas beamed. In that moment, he looked as young as his daughter.

Alastor had witnessed many sides of him. He saw the yearning lover first, then the accomplished chancellor, followed by the protective father, only to catch a glimpse of him as a potential enemy. Watching him play the dutiful son was the most jarring of them all.

“Tell me, how are you doing?” Lucifer went on.

Distractedly, he reached for Alastor, who understood what he was asking for and offered him his hand. Stolas glanced at their joined hands, but he didn’t let it affect him.

“My job keeps me busy, but I make sure to visit Via as much as I can. She’s learning fast. I know she’s going to do an amazing job as your next chancellor.”

Lucifer nodded. His smile turned crooked. “How’s your wife?”

Stolas gulped audibly. “Great,” he lied. Poorly. “Stella loves her job as Via’s teacher. She has nothing but good things to say about it.”

“I know she had other ambitions,” Lucifer admitted candidly, “but I’m glad to hear she’s settling in fine. I do want Via to have the best education. What about your brother in law?”

Stolas looked away and chuckled. His nervousness was palpable. “Andrealphus is happy to shape new recruits into perfect soldiers,” he insisted, his voice too high.

“I hope he’s not too bitter I didn’t choose him as the captain of the royal guard,” Lucifer wondered. His tone was incredibly light, as if he was doing small talk.

“O-of course not,” Stolas stuttered. “We all know you always pick the right person for the job. Nobody would even think to complain.”

Lucifer nodded as if that was the expected answer.

“Vassago is the perfect captain,” Stolas went on with more aplomb. He meant that part. “All the soldiers adore him. They respect him a lot more than me.”

He laughed as if he was joking, but Alastor heard real worry in his voice.

“Don’t put yourself down,” Lucifer retorted. “Everyone can see you’re doing an amazing job. I couldn’t be more proud of you. We all love you, Stolas.”

The chancellor glanced at Alastor as if to point out the obvious, but he didn’t say anything.

“From what I hear, you two are great friends,” Lucifer went on. If he noticed Stolas’ glance, he made no note of it. “There’s no way he would betray you.”

Flustered, Stolas wondered, “Father, where did you hear that?”

“Hallway talk,” Lucifer waved his concerns away, laughing.

The chancellor didn’t seem comfortable with that answer, but he didn’t insist on it. Alastor understood well why he might be wary of rumors.

“What about you, Father?” Stolas asked, no doubt trying to veer the conversation away from himself.

“Same old, same old,” Lucifer let out with a dry smile, completely ignoring the big change on his left. His fingers squeezed Alastor’s as if to tease him.

Neither of them made any effort to include him in the conversation. While he would be happy to only listen to gather more information, he figured it was about time he participated.

“I’m settling well into my new role, thank you for asking,” Alastor let out in a perfectly amicable tone, if only slightly snarky.

Stolas looked at him, glanced at Lucifer, then came back to him. Lucifer leaned back as if to let them battle it out.

“How was your visit to the Lust Ring yesterday?” Stolas asked him. His tone was cold and sarcastic. He knew first hand how horrible that place was.

“Enlightening,” Alastor informed him. It made Lucifer chuckle.

“In fact, I had quite the interesting talk with an imp working there,” Alastor went on, staring Stolas straight in the eyes.

All colors left his face. Alastor smiled wider. It was a powerful feeling, to scare someone so deeply with only a few words.

Of course, he didn’t intend to put Blitzo in harm’s way. That was why he added calmly, “Do you know Asmodeus’ business partner, Fizzarolli?”

Stolas’ whole body relaxed and he let out a sigh of relief. For someone who had such a dangerous secret to keep, he was an incredibly bad liar. In this, at least, he was well matched with Blitzo.

Alastor didn’t miss Lucifer’s knowing smile. He knew about Stolas’ affair, like he knew about Asmodeus and Fizzarolli. Was he planning to act on these secrets at any point, or was watching them squirm enough entertainment for him?

“I’ve only met him a couple times,” Stolas admitted.

“It,” Lucifer corrected him. His voice was soft, but his tone was firm, like a teacher’s. Or, Alastor supposed, a parent’s.

Stolas swallowed. “It is a good entertainer. I love the show they do together, but I don’t know him–”

He stopped abruptly, took in a deep breath, then started over, “I don’t know it all that well.”

Lucifer reached for Stolas again and patted his head in approval. This time, the chancellor didn’t look half as pleased with himself. In fact, his eyes were wet.

Interestingly, Lucifer never corrected Alastor or Asmodeus about how they referred to imps. Did he scold Stolas because he saw him as his child and, therefore, his responsibility?

“Ozzie’s show was better before,” Lucifer exclaimed. “Frankly, I was disappointed yesterday. The quality really dropped since he made that imp his partner.”

“Father’s opinions are always the best,” Stolas placated him.

“You don’t have to agree with me all the time,” Lucifer lied. “You’re a grown up now, baby boy, you’re allowed to love crappy music all you want.”

As much as the music wasn’t to his liking, Alastor wouldn’t have gone so far as to call it crappy. The melody was catchy, their voices harmonized well together and the choreography was pleasing to the eye. The lyrics were uninspired and the music could use some improvement, but, overall, he would have called it a decent performance.

Of course, he kept that opinion to himself.

Stolas chuckled nervously. He was saved from answering that loaded question by the door opening. They all watched in silence as a couple imps brought food on the table until they were left the three of them again.

Lucifer let go Alastor’s hand and appeared himself his sippy cup, but no food. Alastor served himself a mugful of coffee and took a long sip. Stolas mirrored him.

Alastor picked at various foods and made himself a decently sized plate before digging in. Everything he put in his mouth tasted divine. Even the fruits were particularly tasteful, juicy and perfectly ripe.

Stolas served himself a bowl of colorful cereals and nothing else. Alastor thought it was a waste, but Stolas grew up here after all. He would be used to all that impressive food.

Lucifer let go of his cup with a pop and smiled at them. “I love you both.”

Alastor watched Stolas from the corner of his eyes. His face softened to a fond smile.

“I love you too, Father,” he answered, genuine if bashful.

The following silence was loud. Lucifer stared at Alastor; Stolas, at his bowl. Alastor opened his mouth in the shape of the sounds, but they didn’t make it past his lips.

He tried to swallow, but it only made his throat hurt more. He opened his mouth again, but only a squeal came out.

Alastor had countless memories of telling his father he loved him and being met with rejection every single time. He remembered trying to placate him by confessing his unconditional love to him, to no avail. He could recall in vivid details saying over and over ‘I love you’s to a man who never, not even once, said it back. More often than not, he was called names for showing what his father called weakness.

With time, he forgot how to say the words even to his mother, who never stopped telling him how much she loved him. No matter how illogical, he resented the fact that she never reproached him his lack of reciprocity. Maybe he would find it easier to say the words now if she did.

“I love you too,” Alastor finally rasped out. His voice was so hoarse it hurt his throat. He drank coffee to help, but it did little to settle his heart.

Lucifer seemed satisfied. Did he enjoy seeing him struggle? Or did he understand something in his hesitation that Alastor didn’t?

The rest of the meal was spent in silence. Alastor tried to enjoy his food, but his appetite had left. He ended up drinking coffee instead, while Lucifer sipped his juice and Stolas picked at his cereals without any enthusiasm.

When nobody ate anything for a couple minutes, Lucifer made all the food disappear. Fortunately, he kept the coffee. Alastor was on his third cup, meanwhile Stolas appeared to still be nursing his first.

“Alright, duckling, what’s the plan?” Lucifer brought up. He made the notebook reappear.

Clearing his throat, Stolas opened his notebook to the right page and informed Lucifer, “We’re ready for another Execution Day. Tomorrow should be good, if that’s alright with you too, Father.”

“Sure,” Lucifer agreed noncommittally.

“Execution Day?” Alastor repeated. “What is it?”

Stolas sighed, annoyed. “Did you die last week?”

He obviously meant it as a slight, but Alastor retorted proudly, “A little over two weeks ago, actually.”

The chancellor stared at him in disbelief. Lucifer laughed.

“I didn’t know that,” the king commented, mirthful. “You’re a baby!”

“I am thirty four years old,” Alastor insisted. He refused to admit his tone was petulant in any way.

Lucifer teleported to his side, bringing his chair with him. He hugged his arm and insisted, “That’s what I’m saying, you’re so fucking young. Crap, Stolas, I’m robbing the cradle now.”

Stolas laughed at the joke. “I think you’re fine, Father. He is a full adult.”

“He’s younger than you,” Lucifer told him. “By what, two years?”

“I don’t have a problem with that,” Stolas informed him. Surprisingly, he seemed to mean it. He didn’t like Alastor, but at least it had nothing to do with his age.

Lucifer hummed. “Al’s still a baby as far as Hell’s concerned. That makes you his mentor, Stolas.”

The chancellor didn’t look thrilled by the opportunity, but he readily agreed, “Of course, Father.”

After a short break to gather his thoughts, Stolas explained, “As you know, Lucifer signed a deal with Heaven to kill a hundred sinners per year. The countdown resets on the day of the spring equinox, at midnight, and the kills aren’t transferable. It means that, even if we killed a thousand sinners this year, we would still have to kill a hundred next year, or Heaven will come down to exterminate us.”

“We don’t want that,” Lucifer interjected. His tone was playful, but, when Alastor glanced at his face, he found his expression dead serious.

“I’m sure you’ve seen royal guards patrolling the city.”

Alastor nodded. He did see them walking around, arresting sinners. He had assumed they were acting like the police, keeping the relative peace, but he was starting to understand that wasn’t their only objective.

“They arrest sinners and bring them to the jail we have in the west wing’s basement. When we have enough, we hold an Execution Day. We bring all the prisoners to the throne room, where Father decides their fates.”

“I let one go from time to time,” Lucifer told him. “I can’t have rumors spread about how horrible my executioner is if nobody lives to tell the tale, can I?”

“I see,” Alastor let out, pensive.

He had to imagine that, like on Earth, soldiers would often arrest people without due process. Even if they indeed committed crimes, he would assume most weren’t what he would consider a capital offense. Surely, the most awful of the sinners had enough power to avoid incarceration.

Then again, he always knew he would be killing innocent people, or as innocent as a sinner could be. The way they were gathered imported little to him.

“Father, you should go to Earth today. It’s been forty two days since last time.”

Lucifer disappeared, only to reappear on Stolas’ side. This time, his chair didn’t follow him. Standing, he hugged his adopted son tight and whined, “Stolas, don’t do this to me! I want to spend more time with you and your mom.”

Alastor would never get used to being called that way. Also, what happened to Stolas being his mentor?

“Father, I’m only looking out for you,” Stolas complained right back. “I’m worried you’ll disappear tomorrow if you don’t go today, and you know how that will look.”

Lucifer let out one long whine, but, in the end, he abdicated. “Fine. You’re too studious, Stolas, but that’s how I love you.”

Stolas giggled like a kid. He returned Lucifer’s hug, clinging to him like to his father. “I love you too, Father.”

The king patted his head, then pulled back. “No time like the present!”

With one last wave to both of them, Lucifer disappeared.

“Why is he going to Earth?” Alastor wondered.

Stolas eyed him. His entire demeanor changed back to cold and distant. “Father has to answer human summonings on Earth. It’s fortunate that he doesn’t disappear in real time, but, if he doesn’t visit regularly, he will be forced to go against his will.”

“He can travel through time?” Alastor pondered. The mere possibility made him breathless.

“He doesn’t have any control over it,” Stolas informed him with disdain. “We wouldn’t be here if he could rewind time.”

While Alastor was disappointed, he supposed it made sense. One would assume he would have stopped himself from falling from grace with a power like that at his fingertips.

The chancellor stood up. Gathering his notebook, he stated, “I’ll take my leave.”

“I’ll walk with you,” Alastor suggested. “I have some questions.”

Stolas sighed dramatically. “Can you teleport us to my office? I don’t want to waste any more time than I have to.”

Standing too, Alastor gathered his shadows and brought them inside Stolas’ office. The chancellor didn’t so much as flinch and walked to his chair with aplomb. Alastor stayed standing. He looked around, gliding his fingertips on the spotless surfaces. Either someone cleaned regularly or Stolas could use his magic in this way too.

“What do you want?” The owl demon asked him, at the end of his rope.

Alastor stopped and pondered what he needed to know. One thing made itself clear.

“Do you have a registry of everyone residing in the palace currently, as well as every person of potential interest?”

Stolas sighed again, but he stood up and walked to one of the huge filing cabinets. He opened one drawer and rummaged through it, until he brought out two slim books.

“I assume you can make copies?” Stolas asked him, handing out both.

Alastor took them with his right hand. With barely a thought, he made two identical books appear in his left. He quickly perused them to make sure the information matched.

Stolas returned the books were they belonged. Closing the drawer, he opened a new one and gave him a pile of scrolls.

“You might as well take those,” he assured him. “They’re plans of the palace.”

Nodding, Alastor made copies too.

Stolas put those back too and moved to another cabinet. He brought out a couple of heavy books and told him, “Via will be studying those topics this year. You know, if you ever feel like helping her.”

Alastor made a copy of the books, if only because they might contain pertinent information about Hell in general. Despite his attitude, Stolas seemed happy to see him take them without arguing.

Stolas walked back to his desk without sitting down. Alastor teleported all his future readings to his room and looked at what made Stolas pause. On his desk were two envelopes. One was a baby pink and the other was a pale yellow.

The chancellor reached for the pink one and handed it over to Alastor without explaining anything, avoiding his eyes.

Alastor took it in his hands and read the clumsy letters on the envelope: Mommy.

Glancing at the desk, he could see the other said Daddy.

Wordlessly, Alastor opened it without ripping the paper. There was a card inside it with a crude drawing of a human with some kind of animal ears. The lines were all red on a pink paper, but the wide smile was drawn in white. Was it supposed to be him?

He opened the card to read the simple message inside it: I’m sorry!

It was signed Octavia in the same childish writing.

Stolas must suspect Octavia wasn’t the one who should apologize. The fact that he didn’t bring the cards with him to Lucifer’s room betrayed how reluctant he was to hand them over, despite how much they could potentially help her. Was he angry on her behalf? Or was there another, uglier motivation at the core of his hesitation?

If seeing them interact together taught Alastor anything, it was that Stolas deeply valued Lucifer’s attention and approval. Was it possible he was jealous of his own daughter for stealing it away from him?

“She would love if you could visit her today,” Stolas whispered. He still wasn’t meeting his eyes.

Alastor could tell he was doing his best in a situation that nobody could handle well, but that didn’t make him like him any more. In fact, it made Alastor despise him with a ferocity that surprised him.

In a fit of anger, Alastor took the card and ripped it in pieces. He let it fall on the ground like rain, his attention on Stolas’ face. Past the surprise, his expression showed a staggering amount of pain.

“You could at least pretend to like her,” he accused him.

“You lost the right to say anything about Via the moment you let Lucifer become her father,” Alastor countered.

Stolas growled. Leaning in his space, he let him know, “I will always protect my little girl.”

“What if Lucifer ordered me to kill her?” Alastor wondered, leaning in as well. They could feel each other’s fast breath.

“He wouldn’t,” Stolas insisted.

“He already did,” Alastor informed him.

They stared each other down.

“I don’t believe you,” the chancellor gritted out.

“Ask her,” Alastor suggested in a light tone. “I admit I threatened to kill her first, but Lucifer answered by ordering me to kill her.”

Stolas’ eyes betrayed a hatred so intense it made Alastor dizzy.

“He knew you wouldn’t do it.”

“Did he?” Alastor put some distance between them and twirled his mic around his hand. “We only met the day before. Lucifer knew nothing about me.”

The chancellor growled again, but didn’t speak more. Alastor studied his anger. On who’s behalf was he angry? Octavia’s, Lucifer’s, or his own? Despite how easy he was to read, this part was obscure. Chances were, not even he knew.

“If you wanted Octavia to be safe, you wouldn’t let her go anywhere near Lucifer.”

Stolas jumped on him, sending them toppling to the floor. The owl demon straddled him, gripping his lapels hard enough to lift him from the floor.

“How fucking dare you,” Stolas seethed.

“Am I wrong?” Alastor insisted, smug. “How many people has he killed?”

“They deserved it,” Stolas argued, but he didn’t sound like he believed himself.

“Do you know he rapes all his executioners?”

“He’s just...” Stolas trailed off.

“He calls imps ‘it’. None of them have a tongue around here.”

“The guards cut them,” Stolas admitted in a softer voice. “When they make them shake a deal.”

“Why would an imp want to work here?” Alastor wondered out loud.

As far as he knew, you couldn’t force someone into a deal. They had to agree to it. Did Hellborns have different rules than sinners that allowed them to force a collar on another?

Stolas let go of his lapels and straightened up. His laughter was dark. “You think any of them has a choice? They agree or they die, along with all of their family.”

That answered that question. He imagined coercion was rampant in the sinner population too.

“You’re fine with that?”

“Of course not,” Stolas cried out. Tears welled up in his eyes and fell in big drops on his cheeks.

Alastor used that opportunity to slid from under him. They both sat on the floor, facing each other.

“Father is doing his best,” Stolas insisted, sobbing between words.

“He’s not,” Alastor stated plainly. “He’s a bad person.”

“But he’s a good father to me,” Stolas argued. He wailed loudly. “I love him.”

“He stole your daughter from you.”

Stolas didn’t have an argument to counter that.

“I hate you,” Stolas confessed, his breathing labored.

“The feeling is mutual,” Alastor admitted, his voice softer than he intended.

Stolas laughed through his tears. Alastor could see the humor in this too. Their mutual dislike would be the first topic they would agree on.

Alastor gathered the pieces of Octavia’s card and put them back together, good as new. He also picked up Lucifer’s.

Standing up, he informed his hopefully former enemy, “I’ll give Lucifer his card and I’ll go see her after school.”

“She finishes at four.”

There wasn’t much more to say. Alastor spared him one last look. Stolas was laying on the floor with abandon, crying all the tears in his body. He was a pitiful sight to behold.

Alastor didn’t feel sorry for him. Sympathy was for the weak, and he couldn’t afford to be weak.

Sinking in his shadows, Alastor moved to his room. He wanted to study the registry first thing, but it was hard to concentrate after that conversation. Needing some air, Alastor teleported outside.

He set out to explore the gardens, but the forest called to him. He teleported at the edge of it and stepped inside. There were no trails, so he let his feet bring him wherever they wanted. It wasn’t like he had a destination in mind. He only needed the space to think.

After half an hour, he stepped in a clearing with a small pond. It looked deep enough to swim in it, but the dirty water didn’t make the notion very appealing.

There was one lone swing chair at the foot of a big tree. Alastor sat down and looked at the tree first, then the water. He wondered if there were seasons in Hell. He died in August, so it would be the first week of September now. If they followed Earth’s seasons, the leaves would soon turn.

Was there snow, in Hell? It would be funny, if that saying turned out to be wrong.

Alastor breathed in the clean air. Without surprise, Pentagram city was polluted, but the palace was sitting at the edge of it. With all this vegetation, it was no wonder the air smelled nice and clean. If Alastor ignored the color of the sky, he could trick himself into believing he was back on Earth.

A soothing breeze made the leaves sing a lovely melody for him. The water was still in the pond, but the simple sight of it brought a deep calm to Alastor. He swung in his chair slowly, letting the rocking motion take away his worries.

For a moment, he simply existed.

Alastor closed his eyes to relax. A thought came to him, breaking this peaceful moment: Lucifer was on Earth right now.

Sighing, Alastor opened his eyes and looked up. By habit, he tended to think of Hell as underground, but he knew that wasn’t the case. He could see up in the sky Heaven, recognizable by that blinding gold, but there was also Earth. The blues and greens were especially stark against the red sky.

He extended his hand towards it.

His sense of reality had been completely shattered the moment he woke up here. He was never one to believe in the after life. He wouldn’t have found so much joy in killing people if he suspected they would go on to exist.

He closed his fingers around the blue orb as if to catch it, but, of course, it was out of his reach.

Alastor didn’t doubt his reality anymore. All he experienced felt too real for him to dismiss it, but, sometimes, the thought would occur to him: what if all of this was one last elaborate daydream before he let out his final breath?

His last moments came back to him, unbidden.

Alastor always assumed his end would be violent. He never thought he would make it past thirty, considering how he chose to live his life. Thirty four had been far longer than he expected, but he still wished he could have celebrated his thirty five years.

He imagined one of his victims would wise up and kill him before he could get to them, or the police would catch up to him. He was under no illusion that they would give him a fair trial. He would have loved to say all that blood on his hands would have made their trigger finger heavier, but he knew the color of his skin would play a far bigger role.

Alastor wanted to die like he lived, by the edge of a blade, but fate had something else in store for him.

His death had been unremarkable. He fell ill and died coughing up blood, alone in his bed. His mother had been taking care of him, but she was sleeping when he took his last breath. He was denied violence or love in his last moments.

Alastor let his hand fall back on his lap. He tried to embrace Hell, but, the truth was, he missed Earth. His life up there had been perfect. All of his schemes to kill powerful men, his occasional nameless victims to throw off the police, his job as a radio host, living with his oblivious mother who loved him unconditionally, he had cherished all of it.

He thought he could build himself a similar life down here, but here he was, without a radio show or a loving presence, in the grasp of a powerful man he could never kill, forced to play the wife and mother.

Alastor only realized he was crying when his vision blurred. He used to think the whole world worked against him, but he was realizing now that Earth had given him many treasures he never took the time to appreciate.

Hell wasn’t so magnanimous. Everything here was designed to hurt him, including affection and relief.

Standing up, Alastor wished with all his heart to go back to Earth. If Lucifer’s power could make him travel through all the rings, then, perhaps…

Alastor wished, and prayed, and screamed his plea to the sky, but it wasn’t answered. He stayed where he was, in that beautiful forest, his own gilded cage.

He fell on his knees and grieved his death. He grieved for all he lost and could never get back, all his hopes and dreams squashed not only by his damnation, but Lucifer’s hands. For the first time, Alastor allowed the weight of his despair to crush him.

Grasping at the blades of grass in his hands, Alastor cried until he couldn’t breath anymore.

“Did you miss me?” A smug voice called out.

Leaning back on his heels, Alastor looked up to find Lucifer. The king was peering down at him with a wry smile. Shadows played on his face to make it more ominous.

Alastor was kneeling in front of his master. He could deny it all he wanted, struggle to find a way out, but this truth was undeniable.

As if he could read his mind, Lucifer twirled his hand and manifested his collar. Alastor felt the cold metal settle around his throat. Lucifer pulled enough to make the leash taut, but it was clear he wanted him to stay down.

His right foot lifted off the ground. Alastor expected a kick from him, but the king had something else entirely in mind: his white, pristine shoe stopped inches from his face.

Alastor’s gaze traveled up. Lucifer manifested his wings. They fluttered above them, as red as the sky they obscured. The crown reappeared on his head, gold with rubies shining like blood. All the red on his suit disappeared, replaced by the golden of Heaven, but it only made his eyes shine brighter.

For the second time, Alastor was witnessing the King of Hell.

“Kiss it,” Lucifer ordered him. He altered his voice to make it more majestic.

Alastor’s eyes traveled back to his foot. It wasn’t the first time he was in this position, although he would usually initiate it. Powerful men loved to have someone at their feet, and it was one easy way to lower their guards.

Without a word, Alastor took the shoe in his hands and leaned down to kiss the tip of it. His lips trailed up, over the laces. He gave one long, insistent kiss to his shin, where his pants had lifted up to reveal his equally white sock. He moved to kiss the inside of his ankle open mouthed.

Lucifer lifted his foot to indicate his next destination. Alastor didn’t hesitate. Before he needed to be asked, he opened his mouth and gave his sole a good lick.

All he tasted was leather. Lucifer cleaned it for him.

“Good boy,” Lucifer praised him.

He lowered his foot to the floor. There was no mercy on his face. The smile had left and all that remained was cold detachment.

What Alastor felt, staring up at this being he could never dream to understand, couldn’t be called fear. That was too kind of a word.

Lucifer pulled on the leash. Alastor’s ass left his heels and he knelt up. The momentum almost made him headbutt Lucifer’s crotch, but he was able to stop himself by grabbing his hips.

With his free hand, Lucifer grabbed the back of his head to make him look up. Alastor could already tell he would see this blank expression in his nightmares.

“You know what to do,” the king ordered him.

With trembling hands, Alastor opened Lucifer’s fly and freed his dick. It was already erect. Did this entire scenario turn him on? Or was Lucifer able to make it go up and down at will?

Alastor opened his mouth and swallowed him.

With his grip in his hair, Lucifer forced a deep and fast pace. Alastor breathed when he could. The tip of his dick forced his throat to open without causing pain, but he couldn’t swallow. His drool blended with his tears on his throat.

Alastor was crying. Did he ever stop?

So far, all of Lucifer’s actions appeared studied for a specific effect. He was manipulating him, testing him, fishing for reactions, gathering information. Even when he indulged himself, he always seemed to make it a teaching moment for Alastor to learn something.

He assumed all of his actions would make sense if he could only grasp his logic, but where did this fit in? It wasn’t like he spoke out of turn or transgressed any unspoken rule. Was he trying to keep him guessing by enacting pointless discipline?

Lucifer could have chosen to comfort him instead. Until now, that seemed to be his modus operandi when Alastor wasn’t in fault, so what was different about this time that he didn’t grasp?

He was still debating his motives when Lucifer came deep in his throat. Alastor swallowed so he wouldn’t choke. Lucifer let go of his head and disappeared his leash.

Falling back on his heels, Alastor rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. Lucifer’s taste sat heavily on his tongue. Yesterday, his dick had been the most delectable delicacy he had ever indulged in. Today, it tasted like defeat.

Lucifer sighed in relief, or was it annoyance? Alastor watched him change drastically. His wings disappeared, the golden of his suit morphed to red, his face softened to something more human, less threatening. In an instant, he was back to the Lucifer Alastor saw the most, what he considered his baseline.

“I swear, those humans are so fucking entitled!” Lucifer complained. "Just because they are able to summon the Devil, they think that gives them the right to order me around! Some called me Satan, can you believe the nerves of those assholes? They’re lucky I can’t kill them, because I swear I would smite every last one of them. I wish I could rain Hellfire on all of Earth and decimate the human race. That’s all they deserve.”

Alastor sat there, unable to react.

Lucifer looked down as if he was seeing him for the first time. His smile softened. “Thanks, honey, I really needed that.”

Laughing, Lucifer jumped on him. Before he knew it, Alastor was laying in the grass, with the searing heat of Lucifer all over his body.

“Time for a nap,” Lucifer decided. He was asleep in seconds, snoring on his chest without a care in the world.

Alastor laid there, looking up at the sky. He could see both Earth and Heaven, as distant and uncaring as the owner of his soul.

Slowly, he came to realize the cruel truth: Lucifer didn’t care if he was in distress. Chances were, he didn’t even notice. His goal wasn’t to test him, gather information or manipulate him.

He was angry and he took it out on him. That was all there was to it.

None of this was about him.

Chapter Text

Despite himself, Alastor let the heat of Lucifer on top of him comfort him.

With nothing better to do, he moved one hand to his head and caressed his hair. His other hand stayed in the grass. He glided the back of his fingers against the blades. While it wasn’t as soft as Lucifer’s hair, it remained a pleasing sensation.

After his good cry and the realization that he didn’t matter to Lucifer at all, he felt empty, but it wasn’t entirely a bad thing. He always found his own emotions to be an inconvenience. Not only did they make him suggestible to other’s manipulations, but they distracted him from his ambitions. To be freed from them gave him the clarity he needed.

He didn’t have time to mope around. Getting tangled in Lucifer’s mind games had made him lose his way. What he needed to get out of this maze was an easy win to give him back his precious motivation.

Before killing Lucifer, he should find easier goals to achieve.

Closing his eyes, Alastor thought about what he desired. It wasn’t the easiest thing to push the king out of his mind when he was literally weighing him down, but he managed.

The first thing was the most obvious: a radio show. He didn’t need to go for any of the stations around town anymore. All he needed was his own studio.

Since he hated to delegate, he had learned most of the jobs surrounding radio back on Earth. He was confident he could handle the technical aspects alone, especially with Lucifer’s power.

He didn’t study the palace plans yet, but he found out in his explorations that the south wing was basically empty. Except for his and Lucifer’s quarters, which were side by side on the third floor, there were only unused guest rooms, as far as he knew. It did make him wonder if the palace used to receive more guests.

As a side note, the position of Lucifer’s room (and his own) made no sense to him. For one thing, it wasn’t next to the outside wall, which explained the lack of windows.

Alastor considered putting windows in his living room, but his only option would be to overlook the throne room. It wasn’t a view he cared to have.

The palace had five floors, and yet, Lucifer chose to sleep on the third one, almost as if he wanted to be as close to the geographical middle of the palace as possible. How was that a sensible choice? Wouldn’t he want to enjoy the view of his gardens?

He didn’t visit the south side of the gardens yet, but he assumed it would be as beautiful as the north side. The west side was only gaudy and extravagant because it was the entrance.

Alastor wished he could have a balcony, too. He could picture himself leaning against the railing or sitting at a table, a glass of whiskey in one hand, a cigarette in the other. It would do wonders for his mood, he imagined.

He could use one of top floor rooms and change it into a radio studio. He was sure he could reach far and wide with his powers, but, if not, putting an antenna on the palace should do the trick.

In his eagerness to rise to the top, Alastor had performed every kinds of shows, but the one he enjoyed the most was radio theater. Playing a role was where he shined, and he loved finding inventive methods for sound effects.

The problem would be the scripts. That was the only part he never did before, although he was planning to add it to his list of talents soon before he died. He didn’t have time to learn how to write if he wanted to get started soon. He would need to find a writer until he could hopefully replace them.

There was his first achievable goal: find a writer for his radio show. Once he had them, the rest would be trivial to set up.

Since Lucifer was still sleeping on top of him, Alastor searched for another desire that didn’t concern his owner. He had his short and long term goals; what he needed was a middle term objective.

This one was obvious too. Now that he could deal permanent deaths, it was time to think about targets.

The first that came to mind was, without surprise, Lucifer. Alastor allowed himself a moment to daydream about his death, picturing his hands wet with his blood, severing his head from his shoulders, tearing off his wings.

Swallowing his saliva, Alastor focused. His next victim imposed himself in his mind.

He didn’t have time to dwell on this yet, but there was no doubt his father also joined Hell. The only problem was, there was no guarantee he would still be around. After all, Alastor killed him almost fifteen years ago. A lot could have happened in that time. For all he knew, Husk killed him already, or a previous executioner.

However, if there was one thing Alastor knew about his father, it was that he knew how to gain power over others. The chances he let himself be captured would be very low.

No matter his fate, Alastor needed to find out for sure, if only for his peace of mind. He couldn’t tolerate living in the same realm as his father again.

The issue was finding him. Alastor might have kept his human name, but he knew most sinners chose a brand new name once they fell in Hell. He had a lot of resources available to him at the palace, but this government didn’t keep track of its citizen. The idea of a Hell census made him chuckle.

Were there taxes in Hell?

Alastor shook himself internally. He could figure out the details later. The important part was, he had his target.

Setting up precise goals made him feel more like himself. After all, Alastor was never the type to wait for opportunities to fall on his lap. His situation was dire, but it wasn’t hopeless. He knew he could achieve a lot if he put his mind to it.

He was picturing murdering his father with a knife when Lucifer stirred on top of him. Alastor sat them up. The king didn’t protest, but he didn’t make it easier either.

Once they were sitting straight, Alastor pushed Lucifer away and looked at his face. He was blinking, his eyes heavy with sleep, but he had a smile on his lips.

Without thinking, Alastor leaned down and kissed him.

“Good morning,” he whispered against his lips.

Lucifer giggled. “It’s the afternoon, silly.”

Alastor didn’t check his watch, but he thought it was closer to lunch.

“Are you feeling better?” Alastor asked.

It was important to make sure his bad mood was entirely gone.

Lucifer hummed, then smiled wider, “Yup, all good!”

The king playfully tapped his fingers up Alastor’s chest and around his neck. They resumed kissing.

“What about you?” Lucifer asked innocently, between two kisses. “You look better.”

So he did notice his earlier predicament. Alastor didn’t know if he preferred this over the alternative.

“I do,” Alastor admitted.

He meant it, too. It was no thanks to Lucifer, but going all out crying and then setting up goals for himself left him energized and ready to face new horrors.

Lucifer pulled back and observed him, humming pensively. If he had thoughts about the reasons of his breakdown, he didn’t voice them.

Suddenly, he stood up. “I know what will make us feel even better.”

Alastor stood as well. He was straightening up when he realized he was naked. One look informed him Lucifer was as well. Were they about to have sex again? If so, why did he stand?

Before he could ask, Lucifer turned and ran towards the pond. He jumped with both feet in the murky water, only for it to clear up. Intrigued, Alastor walked closer and looked at the now pristine body of water.

The bottom wasn’t made of sand or mud, but concrete. With the dirty water and the irregular form, it appeared to be a pond, but it was in fact a swimming pool.

By the time he made it to the edge, Lucifer had gone under. He broke the surface of the water and took in a deep breath, then laughed, carefree.

Tentatively, Alastor took a step in the water. He expected it to be cold since it was a mild day, but he found the water lukewarm. Did Lucifer change the temperature when he cleaned it?

If only to cover himself, Alastor stepped deeper in the water. He considered appearing a swimsuit on himself, but he figured Lucifer would make it disappear. Also, the water was warmer than the air and he was starting to feel cold.

His owner had seen all of him anyway. Alastor was only self conscious because they were outside, but, when he thought about it, there were about the same chances someone would walk on them out here than in either of their rooms. Maybe even less, considering how this forest didn’t look used at all.

He had water up to his chest when Lucifer swam to him and pulled him under. Alastor saw it coming a mile away, so he had time to take a deep breath before his head sank down below.

They looked at each other. The light filtered through the water played tricks on Lucifer’s face again, but it didn’t make him appear softer like in the Lust ring. Instead, it made him look like a siren about to yank him down to the depths to feast on his corpse.

Lucifer laughed as soon as they broke the water, then splashed him. When Alastor retaliated, he evaded him and swam away.

Alastor hurried after him until his feet didn’t touch the floor anymore. He was fortunate that New Orleans sat on the shore of a lake. If it had been landlocked, he would have never learned how to swim. Admittedly, his hooves made it harder, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle.

Lucifer stopped and turned to face him again. Alastor swore he saw white scales reflecting the light of the sun in the water under him.

After taking another deep breath, he plunged and investigated. It wasn’t a hallucination. Lucifer transform his legs into a merman’s tail.

Alastor surfaced again to breath. When Lucifer swam closer, he noticed the gills on the sides of his neck.

“You can become a merman too if you want,” Lucifer informed him. “I can’t alter your body, it’s part of the whole ‘I can’t hurt sinners’ things, but you can use my power to do it yourself.”

While he wasn’t the most thrilled at the idea of transforming his body, Alastor had to admit he was intrigued. Also, there was no telling if Lucifer would be offended if he refused, and he didn’t want to risk it now.

As soon as Alastor thought about it, the change happened. He detailed the gills on the sides of his neck with his fingertips first, then moved his tail about. It was red, unsurprisingly. The fins at the end were a translucent pink.

He was a merman.

When Lucifer pulled him down again, Alastor didn’t have to think about it: his gills worked by themselves to keep him oxygenated. It was as effortless as breathing.

They swam around each other until Lucifer laid down on the pool floor. Alastor admired the fins at the end of his tail, a translucent white that shimmered in pinks and golds. When he came back to Lucifer’s face, he had a knowing smile. He knew how beautiful he was, in this form as in every others.

They couldn’t talk under the water, which was just as well for Alastor. He settled down next to Lucifer and laid on his back. From the depth of the water, the sky appeared pink. It was a wonderful sight.

Of course, Lucifer ruined it by rolling on top of him. Alastor felt a shiver traverse his entire body as their tails rubbed against each other. It was more sensitive than his legs, especially the fins at the end.

In a show of flexibility Alastor didn’t think physically possible, Lucifer rolled his tail around his. Alastor’s mouth opened in a gasp, but all that came out of his mouth were bubbles.

When Lucifer leaned down to kiss him, Alastor glided his fingers between his hair. The light made it glow a pink golden too. He expected it to feel stringy, but it was still soft, even wet.

What they were doing wasn’t sex in the human sense of the word, but Alastor noticed a different kind of pleasure building inside him. He could tell by Lucifer’s reactions that he felt it too.

They reached a crescendo. Alastor let out a scream that was swallowed by the glittering water around them. Lucifer mouthed at his chin lazily, basking in the same afterglow as him.

Lucifer pulled back enough to smile at him cheekily. Alastor smiled back. He wasn’t about to be beaten at this game.

They watched each other without speaking. Lucifer teased his face and chest with his fingertips, no doubt to occupy himself. Alastor let go of his hair and let his arms fall down on the concrete besides him. It would be uncomfortable if the water didn’t help combat the effect of gravity.

Alastor stared at Lucifer and the sky above him.

Eventually, the king grew bored and swam away. Alastor followed him, disappointed. Lucifer couldn’t speak to him under water and whatever sex they had felt a lot less intrusive, almost gentle. Breathing under water was a lot more comfortable than he expected, and the warm embrace of this pool made him feel at peace.

As irrational as it was, Alastor found himself wishing they could stay in this form forever.

Lucifer broke the water first. Alastor lingered under him, looking at his tail until it changed back to his usual legs. Lucifer had human feet, not animal ones like Alastor’s hooves. However, in light of recent events, Alastor had to wonder if that was his default or a conscious choice.

When Lucifer swam to shore, Alastor came up for air and changed back to his sinner appearance. With water up to his ankles, the king turned around to face him, buck naked.

He extended his hand towards him in invitation. Alastor stopped a couple feet in front of him and looked down at his opened palm. It was tempting to slap it away, but that would be short sighted.

Lucifer beamed when Alastor took his hand, and, before he knew it, they were sitting down, fully dressed, facing the pond. It took him a second to understand they were on the swing chair. Lucifer gathered his legs under him and leaned with all his weight on him, keeping their linked hands on Alastor’s lap. The sinner squeezed his fingers, but he looked up at the leaves dancing in the trees.

Their hair weren’t wet anymore. Lucifer dried them both when he teleported them. No wonder he was so disconnected from his subjects if he could make any inconvenience go away without more than a thought.

“We should eat,” Alastor suggested in a low voice.

Without warning, Lucifer appeared a sandwich in his free hand. Alastor almost dropped it in the grass, but he saved it at the last second. He watched a bottle appear on his side and Lucifer had his usual sippy cup.

Alastor took a bite. It was better than he expected. The meat was pulled with some kind of spicy and sweet sauce. He appeared a plate on the chair to put it down and drink from the bottle. The liquid inside tasted like lemonade, but with some kind of alcohol in it. While he would never choose to drink this, he had to admit it was quite refreshing.

Lucifer sipped his apple juice. After a while, he appeared himself one chicken nugget and gnawed at it without conviction. Alastor could only imagine what filled his brain.

Without warning, Lucifer let out a loud gasp. Alastor startled and dropped the last few bites of his sandwich on the ground. The king disappeared and reappeared in front of him with a huge grin on his face.

“I just got the perfect idea!” He exclaimed, loud and bright.

“For what?” Alastor wondered, willing his heart to slow down.

Lucifer chuckled and told him, as if it was an inside joke they shared, “Important business.”

Without explaining more, he disappeared. This time, he didn’t reappear anywhere. Alastor was left alone.

After a sigh, he disappeared what was left of his sandwich. He finished the rest of the bottle in one long sip, then took a look at the time. Octavia finished school at four, but that didn’t mean he had to visit her then. He could go back to Lucifer before dinner and they would visit her together. He had most of the afternoon left ahead of him.

He was done dwelling in his thoughts, and he needed to be apart from Lucifer as much as possible. That was why he teleported back to his room and sat down at his desk.

He looked through the two registries books, but it wasn’t as illuminating as he had hoped. One contained all the palace staff; the other, the delegates and the other Sin’s employees. Reading off lists of names wasn’t helpful, but their job title helped paint a broader picture at least.

They would work better as reference books, for when he would need to find someone specific.

After that disappointment, he looked through the books for Octavia’s lessons and picked up the topic that seemed the most relevant: history. He figured out quickly it was a heavily edited version of history, which meant its accuracy was highly debatable, but it would be a good start.

There was an entire chapter about Lucifer’s deal with Heaven. The book informed him it happened more than five thousands years ago. Angels noticed more humans fell to Hell than Heaven and feared they would mount a rebellion. They came down to Hell to discuss with Lucifer and find a solution to this problem.

Would it be possible, for sinners to invade Heaven? Even with Lucifer’s powers, Alastor couldn’t go to Earth. Just for fun, he tried to go to Heaven, with similar results. If he couldn’t leave Hell, then it was highly improbable anyone else could.

According to the book, the angels were the ones who came up with the idea to kill sinners, but Lucifer negotiated the number as much as he could. Apparently, they first suggested a thousand, but Lucifer was able to lower it to a hundred. Whether that part was true or it was edited to make him look better, Alastor couldn’t say.

Adam was the one who sealed the deal. The First Man was also the head of the exorcists, the faction of angels tasked with keeping them at bay. They were a small, but highly trained, army. The book insisted they were invincible, but Alastor wasn’t so sure about that.

The negotiations went on for seven days. It took on the quirky name of Endless Week, even if it did eventually end. As for the deal itself, it was referred to as the Treaty of Lucifer. Uninspired, but Alastor wasn’t surprised he would want his name on it, even if he wasn’t the one who came up with the idea. Powerful men always appropriated themselves everything.

Since then, Adam and his exorcists visited every year on the day of the spring equinox to take stock. Lucifer never accepted to renegotiate the number of sinners he had to kill, but he threw them a banquet to celebrate the lack of rebellion.

Heaven’s strategy worked. No rebellions was ever attempted. That was doubtful too, but perhaps more believable. Sinners were far too preoccupied with survival and internal conflict to think about invading Heaven.

The book insisted on how much of a threat the exorcists posed, but it also claimed that, in those long five thousand years, Lucifer never failed to meet his requirement, not even once. As such, nobody knew what an ‘extermination’ meant, except that it would presumably be worst.

That was the part Alastor doubted the most. The Lucifer he knew would want to make the extermination happen at least once to see the result. Earlier today, he was insisting he would kill all humans if he could, even those promised to Heaven. He would revel in all that carnage and, if he could risk death himself, all the better.

It made him wonder why Lucifer would erase a previous extermination from history. Surely, the decimation of Hell would make for an amazing cautionary tale. Was it only a matter of pride?

The rest of the chapter wasn’t helpful, but it gave him a lot to think about.

Another chapter answered a previous question he had: there were indeed taxes in Hell. However, sinners were exempt from them. Alastor imagined their lack of loyalty would make it difficult to enforce.

Every Ring had a system of taxes that sounded far too complicated for Alastor to grasp in one afternoon, but he did understand that money wasn’t at the core of it. Every Hellborn had to contribute a certain resource to their Sin depending on their means, and a part of it was brought to Lucifer’s palace to keep it running.

There were multiple accountants keeping track of those obligations, but the one who had the final say on everything was the chancellor. Lucifer of course had a veto power on any decision, but Alastor didn’t imagine he used it often.

It was the middle of the afternoon when he put the book down. He massaged his forehead and decided to take a short break. He made a cup of coffee appear and sat on his couch with soft music playing.

For the rest of the afternoon, he studied the plans closely. The East wing, what he called the boarding school in his head, was by far the most impressive. It contained multiple bedrooms and classrooms, but there were also play areas, a gymnasium, an indoor pool, a cafeteria. The library had three floors and took almost half of each of them.

Alastor had been wondering all this time where the library was. He checked on the other wings to make sure, but it was the only one in the entire palace. He would have to visit it soon.

The West wing was the least interesting. The guards lived in a shared dormitory, they had one large dining room and another large room to train in. Only the captain and some generals had quarters of their own on the top floor. The jail in the basement took up the entire floor.

Interestingly, there were no basements in the other wings, nor under the throne room, almost as if it was added as an afterthought.

As for the North wing, it was reserved for the employees’ quarters and offices for those who needed one, like Stolas. His office was on the fourth floor and his private room on the fifth, both facing outside. He and Stella didn’t share the same room, but they were side by side, not unlike Alastor’s and Lucifer’s. Somehow, he doubted either were heartbroken about it.

The kitchen Alastor had visited was only one of three. He had gone to the one in the South wing, but there was also one in the East and one in the West. Alastor wondered why there wasn’t one in the North wing, and which was tasked to bring his food all the way here.

In the end, while the plans were helpful, Alastor didn’t learn any ground breaking news.

He wondered if he had time to visit the library, but he decided against it. He wanted to find out what Lucifer called his ‘important business’ first, not to mention that he needed to give him Octavia’s card.

With barely a thought, he teleported to Lucifer. There was no need to hide his presence in his shadow; he knew his owner could always feel him.

Alastor appeared in a room he didn’t recognize. He was immediately assailed by too much yellow.

The culprits were ducks. Piles and piles of yellow ducks either in boxes, baskets or simply on the floor. Alastor took one step, only to walk on one. It squeaked under his sole, but he mercifully didn’t fall. He would have knocked down a pile if he had.

Intrigued, he picked it up to inspect it. It looked like any toy duck he could imagine, yellow with an orange beak and black eyes. Someone else might call it cute, but he didn’t think he could associate ducks with that word ever again.

Gently, he put it down on one of the piles around him and scanned the room for his owner.

Lucifer was hunched over a huge desk. Alastor carefully made his way to him, pushing aside ducks with his feet before every steps. Once he was close enough, he called his name.

The king didn’t look back or react in any way. Was he too engrossed in what he was doing to notice him?

Alastor approached on his right. The king was tinkering on another toy duck with some kind of tool Alastor didn’t recognize. It looked like a screwdriver, but more slim and delicate. Lucifer’s tongue was poking out in concentration and his eyes were squinted. He was wearing that hideous pink sweater again, but the sleeves were rolled back to not hinder him.

He was debating whether he should make his presence known or leave when Lucifer stood up with a shout of triumph and showed off the duck not to Alastor, but towards the ceiling.

Alastor couldn’t help his mouth falling opened in shock when the innocuous yellow duck spat fire like a dragon.

Once the fire stopped, Lucifer twirled around in happiness, clutching his new invention close to his heart. He was on his fourth spin when he noticed Alastor.

“Honey, I didn’t see you come in,” he exclaimed. “Did you see my new duck?”

“Why is it spitting fire?” Alastor wondered with genuine curiosity.

“Why?” Lucifer repeated, dumbfounded. “Tell me it isn’t the coolest thing you’ve ever seen!”

“It isn’t,” Alastor deadpanned.

“You’re a tough crowd,” he pouted.

He placed his duck on his desk with a shocking amount of reverence and looked up at him. Despite his words, he didn’t seem offended. Alastor was relieved he didn’t unknowingly step on another landmine. That always seemed to be a possibility with Lucifer, especially concerning his precious ducks.

“Is it time for dinner?” Lucifer asked, crowding him.

By habit, Alastor circled his waist. Before he knew it, they were chest to chest, kissing.

“Soon,” Alastor informed him. “I was intrigued by what you were doing.”

“My workshop is always opened to you,” Lucifer told him, sweet and earnest.

Alastor was surprised by the lack of threat, but he supposed Lucifer made his point already the day before.

“Would you let me work on one of your ducks?” Alastor wondered.

He was starting to become breathless. Fire pooled in his chest, making it harder to concentrate on the conversation. Not even he knew if his question was genuine or if he wanted to test him.

Lucifer caressed his cheeks expertly, his hair, his ears. Alastor clung to his back, moans making their way out of his mouth. He should be worried Lucifer had him trained to respond far too easily, but, in this case, it was working in his favor.

“If you ask nicely,” Lucifer whispered, a promise for a lot more.

Alastor closed his eyes. When he blinked them opened, they had changed locations to Lucifer’s bedroom.

His owner pulled back. He took his hand and walked to the bed. Sitting down, he brought Alastor between his knees and looked up at him.

“You know, honey, healthy relationships are all about compromises,” Lucifer informed him, caressing his hips.

Alastor wanted to laugh. What an insane thing for him to say, considering their situation, but he hated the way he said it too, as if he had great wisdom to impart to him.

“That’s why, since you gave me what I needed earlier, I’m willing to do the same,” Lucifer smiled up at him proudly. “Aren’t I a good partner?”

This time, Alastor couldn’t help himself: he scoffed.

Lucifer shook his head in disapproval, but his smile was fond. Patronizing. “I don’t appreciate that attitude, but I’ll let it slide. Tonight is all about you, baby.”

“I suppose you already decided what I need?” Alastor asked.

He wanted to tamp down his sarcasm, but it was impossible to control himself around Lucifer. He was so outrageously conceited.

“Daddy knows best,” Lucifer chuckled. “Don’t worry, Al, you’ll enjoy this.”

Alastor knew what he was driving at. How could he ever forget his promise?

“Come on, hurt me,” Lucifer asked him. His eyes were bright with mirth. “I’ll get in my role now.”

Letting go of his hips, Lucifer fell on the bed and crawled back. Alastor knelt on the mattress, between Lucifer’s legs. Taking a deep breath, he decided to let himself enjoy this.

He gripped his sweater and tore it opened. Destroying that hideous piece of fabric was more cathartic than it has any right to be.

As he was wondering how to go about hurting him, Alastor was hit with a brilliant idea. He applied his shadows to his nails like nail polish and drew a long line on his chest. The scream of pain Lucifer let out startled him.

“Fuck, that hurts!” Lucifer commented. His chest was rising and falling fast.

His eyes were already misted with tears. He forced a wavering smile. “Don’t worry, honey, I’m still up for it. I just didn’t expect it to hurt so much.”

That made no sense. Yesterday, Alastor humped his opened wound. This shallow cut would be nothing in comparison.

Since he didn’t know what to make of this puzzling reaction, Alastor decided to go back to his chest and open a few more gashes. Lucifer let out a couple expletives, but, every time Alastor checked, he assured him he was fine.

Was this supposed to be part of his role? If so, Alastor didn’t understand his vision.

Lucifer was still hard, and, much to his dismay, Alastor was too. As much as he wanted to open up his chest again, what he needed the most was a repeat of last night. This time, though, he intended to make the wound deep enough to properly fuck it.

He was grabbing the hem of his pants to tear them open when Lucifer gingerly touched his hand and asked, his voice higher than usual, “Um, Al? I… I think I changed my mind.”

Alastor froze.

“It hurts too much,” Lucifer confessed, his voice lowering to something tentative. His smile was crooked. “I’m so sorry, I wanted to do something nice for you, but I don’t think I can...”

He trailed off with a nervous chuckle.

Did he forget he could teleport away? While that hypothesis made no sense, his words didn’t either. Was he hinting at him that he should stop? Testing to see if he respected boundaries? Why would he even care about that?

Alastor was still undecided on how to proceed when Lucifer shook his head and told him, “No, sorry, I can do it. Please go on.”

Perplexed, Alastor did as told and tore his fly opened. Now that he had done all the tearing off for his personal catharsis, he vanished Lucifer’s clothes. His dick was standing at attention despite his apparent reluctance.

Alastor took it in his hand. He glanced one last time at Lucifer’s face, who looked back at him with a conflicted smile. Opening his mouth, he put the tip of it on his tongue. He coated his teeth with his shadows and bit down.

“Fucking Hell!” Lucifer screamed with genuine pain and, even more improbable, shock.

Pulling back to chew, Alastor observed him. Tears fell on his cheeks and his fists closed tight. His body was struggling in a way Alastor recognized. It betrayed an amount of pain impossible to contain.

“That fucking hurts,” Lucifer panted. “Fuck, Al, it hurts so much!”

Alastor swallowed, then leaned down and took another bite.

“Al, I don’t,” Lucifer choked on his spit. “Please, it’s too much, I can’t...”

Alastor took a third bite.

“Please,” Lucifer begged. “Al, I don’t like this anymore, please, let’s just, let’s stop?”

The king forced a smile through his tears. It wanted to be reassuring, but there was a haunting fear overcoming it.

“Honey, are you listening? Why aren’t you speaking?”

Without a word, Alastor severed the rest of his dick and chewed on it.

Lucifer tried to roll on his side to flee, but Alastor held his hips down. His struggling gained in desperation as he cried out, “Al, let me go, please, let me go!”

He didn’t change in his demonic form. He didn’t summon his wings. He didn’t teleport away or use his unlimited strength to push him away. He was acting as if he didn’t have access to his powers anymore. Could it be possible?

Alastor cut off his balls and ate them. Using his shadows this time, he plunged in the opening of the wound to make it deeper.

Lucifer reached for him, panting and crying so hard he was drooling. Alastor tied his wrists down with his shadows, then his legs. He gave him enough room to wiggle. His body shaking under him was the sweetest feeling.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Lucifer screamed. “I’m so sorry for all I did to you, Al, I know it was shitty. I deserve this, I know, but please, please stop. I promise I’ll treat you better.”

Alastor drank in his words greedily, but he only plunged in deeper. He could feel the heat of Lucifer’s insides with his shadows, but he knew it would feel even better around his cock.

“Al, I love you so much,” Lucifer sobbed. “Don’t do this to me, I love you, please, I’ll do whatever you want, just stop hurting me.”

Alastor considered shutting him up with his shadows, but he loved to hear him pleading way too much.

When the prepping was done, Alastor removed his shadows and spared one glance up at Lucifer’s face. Their eyes locked. The fear he read in them, the betrayal and, above all, the despair, appeared so genuine it made him gasp. Lucifer was the best actor Alastor ever met, but could it all be fake?

The call for help in his eyes was too real. The way his body struggled was uncannily realistic. If he didn’t know for a fact Lucifer could get out of this on his own, Alastor would believe he was at his complete mercy.

Lucifer let out a heart wrenching sob, then asserted in a small, strained voice, “I don’t want this.”

Alastor’s entire body was thrumming with arousal. Never before had he felt the need to fuck someone, let alone with that kind of mind numbing desire.

He never knew he had this capacity for lust inside of him, and Lucifer sussed it out of him in only a couple of days.

“I’m going to kill you,” Alastor croaked out.

Lucifer’s eyes widened in panic. He tried to struggle again, to no avail. He was a fly caught in Alastor’s web.

Alastor laughed. “You can scream all you want. Nobody will hear you.”

“Please,” Lucifer reiterated. “I’ll be good, I promise, I don’t wanna die, I’ll do anything, please don’t ki–”

Alastor cut him off by pushing his dick inside him to the hilt. Lucifer’s shrill scream broke half-way through, but it wasn’t to breath in. He went on shouting in a hoarse voice that made Alastor’s heart sing.

He wanted to take his time, but he couldn’t control himself anymore. Lucifer’s insides were nothing like his ass. It was a lot more wet and even warmer, almost to the point of boiling. Watching his dick break his skin was a pleasure all of its own.

Lucifer screamed until his throat gave out, but the sobbing never stopped. He even threw up all over himself. Alastor cleaned it up because he didn’t like the smell, but affecting him so much certainly wasn’t a turn off.

It was over far too fast. Alastor plunged his shadow coated nails in Lucifer’s stomach and pushed as deep as he could go. He came calling Lucifer’s name and fell down on him, boneless and sated.

Lucifer was right: this was exactly what he needed.

After he healed, Lucifer’s arms circled him. Alastor looked up to face him again. Regrettably, there were no traces of tears left, and his smile was smug again.

“Did that help?” Lucifer asked him, his voice perfectly even.

Now that the afterglow was over, Alastor was hit with a clarity that hurt.

“Yes,” he admitted.

“I told you I would be convincing,” Lucifer insisted, chuckling.

His act was so credible it made him forget it was only role play. In his mind, Alastor was raping him for real, and he enjoyed it.

“Did you like that I pretended to hesitate at first? I thought it was a nice touch.”

Alastor didn’t answer. He didn’t have it in him to admit that it actually added a lot of authenticity to his performance.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Lucifer decided.

They spent some time in silence. Alastor sank back on his chest and Lucifer caressed his hair, humming a song to himself. After what must have been at least fifteen minutes, Lucifer announced to him nonchalantly, “The next step is to test it on other people.”

Alastor opened his eyes wide in realization, but he didn’t dare look up at Lucifer.

“I’m sure you’ll enjoy it even more on someone who’s really unwilling,” Lucifer went on. If he had any idea he was destroying what was left of his sense of self, he wasn’t showing it. “I bet it’s a huge turn off for you that I was acting, even if I convinced you in the moment. Don’t worry! Tomorrow, I’ll let you choose one sinner to rape. I’ll even let you keep them if you want. See, I can be generous when I want to.”

Alastor closed his eyes again in defeat. Lucifer’s heat was his only comfort.

Lucifer grabbed his hair tighter and leaned into his ear. He whispered this next part with a laughter that would haunt him for the rest of his existence.

“All I ask is that you let me watch.”

Chapter Text

They were about to sit down for dinner when Alastor remembered something important.

“I have something for you.”

Lucifer looked up at him, a question in his eyes. Alastor retrieved the card from Octavia and gave it to him. His owner took it from him, spared it one look and deduced, “That’s from Via.”

It wasn’t a question, but Alastor nodded anyway. Lucifer hummed in an obscure way and opened the envelope. He chuckled when he saw the drawing. He opened the card, allowing Alastor to see Octavia had drawn an orange duck on the yellow paper. It was a simpler design than Alastor’s, but better executed. The result could almost be called cute.

Lucifer closed the card again to admire the drawing with apparent fondness. After a sigh of joy, he made it disappear. Alastor noticed from the corner of his eyes that it was now sitting on one of the shelves, between two rubber ducks.

The king closed the distance between them. Leaning against his chest, he played with his lapels and suggested, “What do you say we go eat dinner with our daughter, then play with her until bedtime? I’m sure she would love for her mom to read her a bedtime story.”

Alastor put his hands on the small of his back, remembering how orgasmic it was to feel him struggle under him.

The prospect of spending the entire evening playing the mother filled him dread, but he did promise Stolas he would visit her. He needed to go if he wanted to keep a somewhat cordial relationship with him. Not to mention that he didn’t think Lucifer would allow him not to come, even if he pleaded being tired after those long few days.

He leaned down to give Lucifer a kiss. He intended for it to be short, but, before he knew it, he was deepening it. Lucifer had to be the one to pull back.

“You really like kissing, huh,” Lucifer commented, chuckling.

Alastor licked his lips, then swallowed. It wasn’t worth it to try and contradict him. Deep down, he knew Lucifer wasn’t wrong.

“I like it too,” Lucifer confessed in a warm voice.

Their eyes met. Someone who didn’t know Lucifer at all would say he was in love, but Alastor knew better.

Lucifer pushed himself on his tippy toes to give his cheekbone a playful kiss, then pulled back entirely. They joined hands and the king teleported them away.

Octavia was sitting down at a table in front of a kid’s plate. She was too old for a sippy cup, Alastor thought, not without humor. One look around informed Alastor they were in the school cafeteria.

Stella was sitting in front of her daughter, but she wasn’t paying her any mind. She was picking at her own food while reading a novel that, judging by the cover, was a romance. The title alone made it obvious it should never be shown to a child.

The teacher looked up from her book and let out a relieved sigh.

“Thank fuck you’re here,” she moaned.

Octavia didn’t speak, but she was watching their interaction warily.

“Why? Has little Via been causing problems?” Lucifer wondered slyly.

He walked up to his daughter and patted her head. She stiffened and let out a little squeak, but she didn’t speak.

“Not at all,” her teacher hurried to make clear. “She’s been as polite and hard working as always.”

Lucifer’s smile sharpened, and his hand stopped moving in Octavia’s feathers.

“So, what’s the problem? Are you tired of taking care of her?”

His voice was cutting.

Stella dropped her book and hurried to stand up, distress written on every parts of her body.

“Of course not, you’re Majesty! Teaching Via is...” she gritted her teeth, but forced a smile. “It’s the best job I could ever ask for. It’s so rewarding, to watch her grow and learn. It’s just been so hard, you know, to see her worry about making you angry.”

Lucifer poofed out of existence and appeared besides the teacher. In one smooth motion, he gathered her against his body and hugged her in a paternal embrace. Stella abandoned herself in the hug as if she truly needed it.

“I wasn’t mad at her, or you,” Lucifer comforted her. He patted her head as he did Octavia, and Stolas too. “I was only busy, that’s all. I know you take good care of my little girl.”

Alastor couldn’t see her face, but he saw her shoulders were shaking. It was hard to say if it was in anger, fear or even relief.

“Thank you,” she answered. Her voice sounded wet.

Lucifer rubbed her back with gusto, then pushed her away gently by the shoulders. Alastor was shocked to see tears on her face. Lucifer rubbed them away for her and smiled at her with paternal pride.

“I’m proud of you, Stella.”

She made a hissing sound, but it was hard to tell what the meaning was. Alastor was quite puzzled by this exchange, as if he was missing important subtext.

“Also, I keep telling you, you don’t need to use formalities with me,” Lucifer insisted. “I’m your father in law, after all. You can call me Father.”

Her jaw tightened in displeasure, but she also glowed with pride. Lucifer was an expert at stirring up conflicting feelings that didn’t make sense put together. Alastor would know.

“Or at least use my name,” Lucifer went on with a fond chuckle. “Just don’t be a stranger, alright? After all, we’re family.”

“Alright,” Stella agreed, but she didn’t call him father or even use his name. It also seemed improbable that she ever would.

He patted her shoulders one last time before letting go.

“You can leave. Al and I are going to take Via until bedtime.”

Stella spared Alastor a pointed look, but didn’t talk to him. She walked around the table to hug Octavia and wish her good night. The girl answered in a low, subdued voice, but she hugged her back intently.

After one last kiss on her head, Stella walked out of the room.

Lucifer took her place as if nothing was wrong. Alastor sat at the head of the table, between them. The king switched Stella’s unfinished plate for mac and cheese and Alastor made another of his mother’s specialties appear: gumbo. Like the jambalaya plate he previously appeared, it was palatable, but no more.

“I’m sorry I made you think I was angry, duckling,” Lucifer apologized. “I’m the one who should apologize, along with Al.”

He didn’t look his way, but his meaning was clear. After a discreet sigh, Alastor added, “I’m sorry too, Via.”

She looked between the two of them with wide eyes, then burst into tears.

Lucifer teleported her on his lap and hugged her tightly. “There, there,” he comforted her. “Everything’s fine, you have nothing to worry about.”

The little girl cried all the tears in her body before calming down. Lucifer comforted her the entire time without complaining once. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it.

That was a tactic Alastor knew well from the men he had killed: comfort your victim in order to make them forget you were the source of the pain. They will latch onto you and become yours to treat as you please. Alastor disliked that technique, but he couldn’t argue with its efficacy.

Lucifer was especially adept at this. It seemed everyone around him was caught in his honey trap, but Alastor swore to himself he would never forget where the pain came from.

“Sorry,” Octavia apologized in a small voice.

“Don’t be,” Lucifer assured her, kissing her head. “I love you, little duckling.”

“I love you too, Daddy.”

Lucifer rubbed her back, then asked her, “Wanna eat on Daddy’s lap?”

“Yay!” Octavia beamed.

Chuckling, Lucifer teleported her plate in front of them, moving his own to the side. Octavia resumed eating while he drank from his sippy cup. For the first time, he glanced at Alastor.

It was an innocent look, but Alastor presumed he wanted him to join in. He awkwardly petted Octavia’s head and told her, “I love you too, Via.”

She smiled wide at him, innocent joy only a child could achieve. It seemed Lucifer’s comfort removed all of her apprehensions, because she didn’t hesitate to answer back, “I love you too, Mommy!”

Relieved, Alastor returned to his plate. He didn’t care if Octavia liked him or not, but she was a key figure in the palace. It was a lot safer to have her approbation than not.

“I love you, honey,” Lucifer piped in innocently.

He should have seen it coming, but Alastor was utterly unprepared. He opened his mouth, then closed his jaw tight. He was able to tell Octavia he loved her without hesitation, of his own volition no less, so why was it suddenly impossible to utter the same words to Lucifer? What did it change who they were addressed to?

It wasn’t like he meant them either way.

Alastor looked up to find Lucifer staring at him with his wide, empty eyes. Octavia was looking from the corner of her eyes, only vaguely intrigued.

After an awkward silence, Alastor forced himself to mumble, “Me too.”

Lucifer sipped loudly without a comment. Instead, he turned his attention back to Octavia to tell her, “Your drawing was so good, sweetie, I had to put it on my shelf.”

Octavia smiled wide and threw her hands up.

“You might even be better than me at drawing ducks!”

She laughed in delight.

“Your drawing of me was delightful too, dear,” Alastor lied.

His own card was tucked into a drawer. Octavia would never visit his room. Why bother?

Lucifer sent him an approving look. They were all playing their parts accordingly.

The rest of the conversation was trivial. Octavia talked about her classes. Lucifer ate no more than five bites of his plate before making it go away, but Octavia ate all her food, including her veggies. Jokingly, Alastor congratulated her for being more behaved than her father, to which Lucifer pretended to be offended.

After they finished eating, they went to one of the indoor playgrounds. Lucifer insisted they played some kind of ball game with Octavia, although Alastor never understood the rules. Honestly, he didn’t think any of them did.

The girl seemed to have fun, and so did Lucifer. All of it was excruciating to Alastor, but he had to admit he found it cathartic to throw the ball as hard as possible towards Lucifer.

Before bedtime, Lucifer brought them to the library. Alastor looked around, impressed. The place was filled with books, but there were a lot of nooks and crannies to hide in. Only standing there made him yearn to crack open a book and settle on one of the soft looking chairs.

Lucifer explained to him that the first floor contained all the books appropriate for Octavia’s age. When she would be a teenager, she would be able to go to the second floor. As for the third floor, it contained adult books. Only some of them contained sex, Lucifer assured him with a teasing smile.

Octavia knew her way around here too. She ran for the section she wanted and perused the picture books. She came back with precisely three books, the maximum amount she was permitted. Alastor imagined she chose the longest she could get away with.

Thankfully, Lucifer saved them the hassle of making her take a bath. With a wink, he cleaned her magically and made her promise not to tell her teacher. Alastor was starting to understand Stella was much more than a teacher. She was a nanny to her own child and she didn’t even get the proper title.

Octavia didn’t need to brush her teeth either, her father did it for her. Lucifer changed her in pajama and gave her a duck plushie to sleep with. Alastor was starting to see why kids liked him so much, but he was aware that didn’t automatically make him a good father. In fact, he imagined all of this special treatment would be detrimental to Octavia’s development if it wasn’t so infrequent.

All that was left was to read the books. They piled together in the bed, with Octavia in the middle hugging her duck plushie tightly. As promised, Alastor was the one to read the stories, although Lucifer sometimes joined in for sound effects or to play different characters.

Despite himself, Alastor enjoyed that part of his evening. Playing different roles, no matter how childish, was fun, and Octavia was the perfect audience. She would gasp, clap her hands, laugh, ask questions, all at the right moments.

When they were finished, she didn’t protest her bedtime and laid down all by herself. They both tucked her in, one after the other, then left together.

As soon as they landed in his room, the king melted on him with a heavy sigh. Alastor hugged him and caressed his hair. Lucifer hummed and sighed happily in his chest. It was a small, peaceful moment.

“Are you ready to go to sleep?” Alastor asked in a soft voice. They were still standing, but most of Lucifer’s weight was on him. If he wasn’t holding him, there was no doubt the king would fall to the floor.

As if on cue, Lucifer yawned.

Chuckling, Alastor teleported them to bed and changed Lucifer in his pajama. The king clung to him like a teddy bear and fell asleep in less than a minute.

Alastor stayed with him to make sure he was fast asleep. He kept his eyes on his face and his fingers through his hair. Before disentangling their limbs, he dropped a small kiss on his forehead. Lucifer accepted the duck plushie in his sleep and Alastor found himself free.

After a long bath, Alastor was in bed too.

His sleep was plagued with nightmares. He woke up in a foul mood, but it was nothing a good breakfast and four cups of coffee couldn’t fix.

He dressed in a sharper suit, more black than red, and prepared himself for another big day. He was practicing his smile in front of the mirror when he was summoned away.

He reappeared in Lucifer’s room. The king faced him in his royal suit, all white and gold, and his wings were out already. He was holding his cane too, and the crown was back on his head. His expression was serious, if bored. He looked the same as the first time Alastor saw him, in the throne room.

“Come on, we’re gonna be late,” Lucifer hurried him.

Alastor assumed nobody would mind if he was fashionably late to his own Execution Day, but there was also no reason to delay further.

“After you,” Alastor insisted politely.

If he was honest, he was excited. The prospect of killing people perked him right up, and doing it in front of an audience sounded wonderful. While he doubted any of them would be his favorite kind of victim, a kill was a kill.

Lucifer broke character to send him one huge grin, then tapered it down and off they went.

They reappeared in front of the throne. As Alastor expected, guards were already milling about. All of them were Goetic demons, without surprise. He knew by now that the royal army was composed only of Lucifer’s species, even if he employed all kinds of Hellborns in different roles.

However, it seemed they were early after all. He could see no prisoners yet. Were they waiting for Lucifer’s arrival before bringing them in? He supposed it would have a lot more impact to walk in with the king already seated on his throne, his executioner by his side.

While Alastor preferred to stand, not having his own throne was vexing. Why did he have all of the negatives of playing Lucifer’s wife without the positive of being the queen?

He would far prefer to be king, but he would take any royal title. Even prince would do. While executioner was a nice title, it didn’t confer the same deference. The lack of a throne, even a smaller one, made it clear he wasn’t to be respected as a member of the royal family.

Alastor glanced up at the death number. They were down to forty two. Three sinners died since Husk. There were six months left before the deadline and they were already below half of their quota. What would happen when they reached zero? Would Lucifer still hold these Execution Days for his own pleasure?

Lucifer sat down on his throne and deployed his wings behind him. Alastor wanted to be on his left, but Stolas was already there, so he settled for his right. The chancellor leaned down to greet Lucifer, to which the king pulled him in a quick, but warm, hug.

Stolas cleared his throat as he straightened up, no doubt to summon some composure. Lucifer laughed fondly, then leaned on Alastor’s side and pulled on his sleeve.

“Have fun,” Lucifer told him near his ear.

He gave him a kiss on the cheek before pulling back. He gathered one leg in his arms, with the sole firmly planted on the seat, while he let the other dangle. His expression lost in levity but gained in boredom. Was he truly bored or was it a mask too?

Alastor wished Lucifer had a tell when he lied. As it was, he had no way to know when he was acting and when he was genuine.

The most horrifying thought occurred to him: what if Lucifer was always playing a role? In his experience, it wasn’t humanly possible to keep up a facade without ever breaking character, but Lucifer wasn’t human.

He was musing on this hypothesis when the king announced, “I’m ready. Bring in the prisoners!”

The guards moved as one. Alastor spared a look at Stolas. He was standing tall, but there was a vacant look on his face.

Why was he here? This Execution Day must not fall under his jurisdiction. Surely, the captain of the royal guard could take charge of the entire event and write him a report later. His presence felt superfluous.

As he was thinking this, a guard wearing a different armor stepped up in front of Lucifer and knelt down on one knee.

The normal armor was made of silver and red fabric with little details in gold. There was a golden serpent eating a red apple on their breastplate, over their heart. He presumed it was Lucifer’s emblem. He was the Serpent, after all, and he did give Eve the infamous apple.

This one guard’s armor was in a golden metal instead of silver, and the fabric was white. Those were the colors of Heaven. If you had told Alastor this was an angel, he would have believed it.

The captain, no doubt, removed his helmet in deference and lowered his head before speaking. “My King, we have twenty two subjects for you to judge.”

“Vassy,” Lucifer called to him. He strained his arm to pet his head. “So good to see you!”

Vassago, Alastor assumed, looked up. He stayed on his knee, with a nervous smile on his face. “I am pleased to be in your presence again, your Majesty.”

Lucifer chuckled. “No need to be so formal, Vassy. I’ve known you since when you were in diapers.”

The captain stood up with an embarrassed chuckle. He kept the helmet in his hands to fiddle with it.

“I wanted to thank you again, Sire, for giving me this opportunity,” Vassago went on. “It’s my first Execution Day as the Captain of the Royal Guard, but I promise I will not disappoint.”

“I know,” Lucifer assured him warmly.

Stolas made it sound like executions happened often. That must mean he was appointed as the captain in the last few months. Who was the captain before him? Did they retire or did a darker fate befall them?

The captain hovered for a tad too long before putting his helmet on again. His entire body took on more confidence now that his face was hidden. He turned around and walked down the stairs, ordering the guards to get a move on.

It didn’t take long that a sinner was brought in front of them. The guards kicked their back to make them kneel down. The sinner fell on their hands and knees, but were quick to straighten up.

“I’m sorry for stealing that loaf of bread,” they pleaded. “My niece was starving and I nee–”

“Boring!” Lucifer interrupted them in a loud voice, elongating the word tactlessly. “Al, kill them.”

“With pleasure,” Alastor agreed.

In the blink of an eye, he had them in a choke hold. The sinner struggled, but Alastor was imbued with the Devil’s strength. He was able to lift them from the ground with only one hand gripping them by the throat.

He watched as the light died in their eyes.

As soon as they let out their last breath, Alastor tore their head off their body. The smell of blood woke something primal inside him. Before long, he was wrist deep in their insides, devouring their carcass like an animal.

Suddenly, he was shoved back. With a muted scream of pain, he landed on his ass. He tried to find the culprit, but there was no one around him. Bewildered, he looked back to find Lucifer looking down at him in both senses of the word.

That was when he understood why his air was knocked out of him. Lucifer had pulled him by the leash like a misbehaving dog. The collar was digging into the delicate skin of his throat, cold and unyielding.

“That’s enough of that,” the king told him.

Alastor growled, but no sound made it passed his lips. As he stood up, he saw imps taking the body away, no doubt to prepare it for later consumption.

Was he not allowed to have any fun?

Lucifer tugged on the leash. To avoid humiliating himself further, Alastor turned around and walked up to him of his own volition. Stolas sent him a scathing look before purposefully looking away, his expression full of disgust.

Alastor was pulled until Lucifer could circle his neck. He talked in whispers, for his ears only.

“Honey, I want a good spectacle, but don’t ruin the meat.”

Even if he could speak, Alastor wouldn’t have had apologized. If Lucifer cared so much about how he killed his victims, he should have warned him ahead of time.

“It’s fine, I’m not angry. You didn’t cross the line yet, but be careful not to, alright? I don’t want to have to keep stopping you.”

Seething, Alastor nodded.

“Good boy,” Lucifer agreed. He gave him one peck on the lips before playfully pushing him away.

Alastor walked back down the stairs, utterly humiliated. At least the leash had disappeared, but he could tell he didn’t inspire as much fear as he yearned for. He would have taken their disgust with pride if it wasn’t mixed with pity.

The next few sinners were just as boring. They tried to justify their survival with emotional arguments and Lucifer cut them off quickly. Alastor varied the way he killed them, but it didn’t cause him the same amount of pleasure as the first one.

He made sure to preserve the meat.

On the sixth one, Lucifer stood and walked down. Alastor stepped to the side and observed him. The woman on the floor didn’t have a different stories than all the others, but there was one particularity that set her apart: she was beautiful.

Even Alastor could see she was devastatingly attractive, with her curves and her long hair. She had butterfly wings and her body was covered in a soft looking fur.

Lucifer appraised her from multiple angles, humming to himself. The poor woman stayed on the floor, scared for her life.

Nodding in approval, Lucifer turned to him and informed him, “Kill her, but keep her body as intact as possible. I’m taking this one to my chambers.”

He turned around to walk up the stairs. Alastor watched her expression fall to the pits of despair, but he didn’t let her voice it. In one smooth motion, he plunged a small shadow tentacle in her chest, careful not to come out the other side.

She threw up blood, then fell to the floor. By the time Lucifer sat down on his throne, she was dead.

Lucifer waved his hand and she disappeared. His jaw tight, Alastor imagined her lifeless body laying on the same bed he fucked Lucifer in. It wasn’t an image he cared to dwell on, and yet, it stayed on his mind.

The next few executions were as unremarkable as the others, until a serpent looking sinner landed down in front of him. He didn’t plead for Lucifer’s nonexistent kindness, but made another case entirely.

“I c-can b-build a-anything for your Ma-Majesty,” he argued. Despite his intense stuttering, he sounded earnest. Alastor would admire his bravery if it didn’t make him look foolish.

Lucifer laughed. “You’re aware I can make anything appear?”

To prove his point, he twirled his hand and a duck appeared in it. His cane had long since been discarded.

“O-of course, y-your Majesty, b-but I can i-invent new machines!” The serpent pleaded. He slid forward, his eyes full of stars. “I b-built my own z-zeppelin, and I c-can build robots!”

“Robots?” Lucifer repeated. He sounded barely interested.

“Yes, Sire!” The guy went on. “I i-invented them myself.”

“I didn’t know we had the technical knowledge yet,” Lucifer mused. “Of course, I can make a robot appear, but none of my scientists have ever been able to understand them.”

“I can!”

Lucifer hummed. He pushed himself standing and walked down. The sinner seemed strangely hopeful, especially considering his position.

Looming over the sinner, the king extended his wings and asked, “What’s your name?”

“Sir Pentious, b-but you can call me Pentious, or Pen for short.” He chuckled. He seemed to have a nervous disposition, and yet, he was unnaturally optimistic.

“Pen,” Lucifer started. He lowered his wings and made his expression more approachable. “Do you like men? Sexually?”

Pentious let out a puzzled noise. “W-why?”

Lucifer leaned down and patted his shoulder. “Just answer the question, Pen.”

“Y-yes?” Pentious asked more than answered. “I, um, like all genders.”

Pulling back, Lucifer nodded his head towards Alastor and asked blankly, “Are you attracted to him?”

The serpent sinner’s eyes landed on Alastor, who looked away, uncomfortable. He could tell where this conversation was going and he wasn’t thrilled. In all his excitement, he had completely forgotten the promise Lucifer made him the day before.

“Errr,” Pentious trailed off, dumbfounded.

Lucifer smiled warmly and spoke casually. “Don’t worry, Pen, there are no bad answers. Just tell me the truth.”

The sinner gulped audibly. His eyes studied Alastor with more intent, making his cheeks burn with mortification. Lucifer couldn’t let him enjoy this Execution Day. He had to humiliate him as much as possible and make it all about sex in the process.

“Um, no offense, but he’s not really my type,” Pentious laughed nervously. Alastor did notice his stutter was mostly gone. Lucifer’s tactic to put him at ease worked. “I, er, may have my eyes on someone specific.”

Lucifer’s smile sharpened. “Is that so?”

“I, um, I mean, she’s not, er, it’s just, there’s this one, um, but we’re not...” he stopped speaking, his embarrassment mortifying for everyone but Lucifer.

“That’s perfect,” Lucifer decided.

“Really?” Pentious wondered, perking up. “You want me as your royal scientist?”

“Something like that,” Lucifer chuckled darkly.

He walked to Alastor. Only once was he in touching distance did he tell him, “Bring him to your bed. We’ll get to him after we’re done here.”

Alastor wanted to protest, he really did, but, if he tried to argue now, Lucifer would only humiliate him further. It was quicker and far better for his ego to teleport the sinner away to his bed. He could always try to talk Lucifer out of it later.

Lucifer didn’t glance back to make sure he followed his order. He smiled up at him, then walked to his throne and plopped down sideways. Playing with a new duck, kicking his feet over the armrest, he ordered out loud, “Next!”

Alastor did his best to find his fun in killing the next few sinners, but his mind was already on what he would be forced to do later. Still, blood was blood, and it warmed his hands just fine.

There were three sinners left when Lucifer appeared his leash and made him stand on his right. Whatever he had in store for them, Alastor didn’t assume he was planning to let them go.

He had time to glance at the death count: it was down to twenty four.

“Vassago,” Lucifer called out.

“Yes sir,” the captain answered, saluting with a fist on his chest, over the serpent and apple.

“Because it’s your first time, I’ll let you go first.”

“Thank you, your Majesty,” Vassago answered, bowing to him.

The captain walked towards the three sinners and picked the closest one. Alastor saw him hesitate for less than a second before he plunged his spear in the sinner’s chest.

“Good choice,” Lucifer cheered, clapping. He looked far more entertained than when Alastor was the one killing, which was just the cherry on top of this shitty sundae.

Vassago turned around. He didn’t look like an angel anymore with blood splattered all over his previously pristine armor. Some drops landed on his face plate, making him appear rather threatening.

Alastor imagined it would be a pain to clean. Then again, Vassago would delegate that part to an imp, no doubt.

“Thank you for this privilege,” the captain answered, bowing towards Lucifer. His voice was shaking, though, and his movements were far less graceful when he stepped to the side.

Lucifer’s next words surprised him, but they explained a lot.

“Stolas? It’s your turn.”

A heavy silence fell on the room. Stolas took in a deep breath and released it evenly. When he turned to Lucifer, he had a perfectly pleasant, if completely fake, smile on his face.

“Yes, Father.”

Lucifer hummed. “You know the drill, Stols: if you can’t pick one, I’m making Al kill both.”

Alastor wouldn’t mind ending both of those miserable lives, but he could tell having to chose weighed heavily on Stolas. His hands shook as he descended down the stairs. He stopped in front of both sinners. They looked equally desperate.

“Do you have children?” Stolas asked in an empty voice. “A partner? Someone who will miss you?”

They both fell into frantic lists of loved ones, but whether they were being truthful was highly debatable. Alastor imagined they would say anything in order to leave. He knew he would.

“Do either of you wish to volunteer?” Stolas cut in.

When they couldn’t shut up before, it seemed like neither of them was able to utter a single word. Alastor would have offered himself without a second thought, banking on the fact that Stolas was trying to find out the most virtuous to spare them, but those pitiful excuse for sinners didn’t have that kind of guts.

“Why do I bother,” Stolas mumbled to himself. Alastor only heard him because of his power.

He gestured for one of the guards to give him their spear. With a sigh, he plunged it down into flesh.

“He always goes for the one on the right,” Lucifer whispered to Alastor, as if he was commenting on a theater play.

“Perhaps because he is right handed,” Alastor mused.

Lucifer chuckled.

Stolas let the spear drop on the floor and walked back up to the throne, cleaning the blood on his clothes with a wave of his hand. He kept his eyes down and only looked up once he was in his place.

“Release the last one,” Lucifer ordered the guards.

As they got to work, the king stood up and gathered Stolas in a hug. “Good job, sunshine,” he comforted him.

Stolas’s shoulders were shaking as he clung to Lucifer’s back.

Vassago stood around awkwardly, shifting his weight on his feet, until Stolas pulled back, sniffling. As for Alastor, he observed the scene in silence.

“I’ll be in my office,” the chancellor choked out.

He turned around and left without looking anyone in the eyes.

Coming up to Alastor, Lucifer grabbed his elbow and commented, “He’s too sensitive, but I think it’s cute. Don’t you?”

“Not particularly,” the executioner asserted. He found it pitiful, if nothing else.

“A-are you satisfied with my performance?” Vassago eagerly asked, removing his helmet. His smile was strained.

Lucifer let go of his arm to jump on his captain. Vassago seemed pleased by the hug and returned it without questioning it. It went to show how easily the king gave away his affection, at least among the Goetia species.

“You were perfect,” Lucifer assured him. “I have no notes. I knew you would make a good captain.”

“Thank you so much, Sire,” Vassago breathed out with clear relief.

Lucifer pulled back and tapped his shoulder in camaraderie. “I’m proud of you, Vassy.”

“You honor me, your Majesty,” the captain answered, flustered.

Lucifer smiled wide before telling him, “Come on, go help the others before they accuse you of slacking off.”

With a huge smile, Vassago agreed, and they were left alone.

Even if he knew what he would find, Alastor glanced one last time at the countdown. In less than an hour, it went from forty two to twenty two. Twenty sinners died, and Alastor killed eighteen of them.

On Earth, he had killed twenty one people, eight of them powerful men he conned. Including the two sinners he killed before coming here, the one he killed in the throne room and Husk, Alastor had killed twenty two people in Hell.

He beat his entire life record in three weeks.

Of course, those executions counted less in his mind than the kills he had to hunt himself on Earth, but, still, it left him satisfied, to see his career as a serial killer was blossoming in Hell. He had at least one thing going for him.

Lucifer fell on him and circled his shoulders. Alastor grabbed his back and leaned down for a congratulatory kiss. Lucifer indulged him before pushing his face against his chest with a happy sigh.

“That was a productive day,” the king commented.

“Indeed,” Alastor approved.

“Not gonna lie, Execution Days always make me a bit horny,” Lucifer confessed with a laugh.

“It doesn’t take much more than a slight breeze to arouse you, my king,” Alastor argued with snark.

“I can’t argue with that,” Lucifer answered.

They hugged in silence. The next time he looked around, Alastor realized they were in his own living room. He wished he could feel teleportation with his body. It seemed unfair that he could be moved without his awareness.

Lucifer pulled back and informed him, “Come on, you’ve got a sinner to rape.”

Alastor hated how blatantly he said the word, as if it meant nothing to him.

“What if I told you he wasn’t my type?” Alastor argued.

As much as he was trying to talk his way out of this, it was also the truth. Someone as naive and eager to please as Pentious was the antithesis of who he loved to kill. He wouldn’t find killing him difficult, but he had a feeling he wouldn’t particularly enjoy torturing him.

“The important part is that he doesn’t want you, right?” Lucifer asked. His voice was sweet and syrupy. “Come on, Al, I even made sure he was in love with someone else before picking him. I’m sure you’ll enjoy him once you get started.”

There was no getting out of this, was there?

Alastor didn’t want to explore this potential kink, but, if it was true raping people turned him on, he absolutely needed to know. He couldn’t control a desire he wasn’t aware of. All he needed to do was to power through it once and he would figure out what to do with the outcome.

He was hoping he wouldn’t become aroused, though. If Lucifer could be his unexplainable exception, it would be quite the relief. Alastor wouldn’t have to redefine who he was. Even better, he could blame it all on Lucifer.

Now that he thought about it, that was the most likely explanation. Since Alastor was supposed to be his wife, Lucifer needed him to want him. He found a way to twist his appreciation of torture into something sexual in order to manipulate him, but of course it would only work on him.

Galvanized by this new hypothesis, Alastor stepped in his bedroom, Lucifer on his heels. He had attached Pentious to the bed with his shadows, but he was still fully dressed.

“W-what’s going on?” He was hissing like a serpent, but out of distress, not anger.

“Al here is about to rape you,” Lucifer explained jovially. He appeared himself a chair and sat down cross legged on it.

Pentious sputtered. His many protests mixed together to become one jumbled mess.

“For your information, I don’t employ sinners as my scientists,” Lucifer explained further. “Also, I have a full team working together, not only one. A lot of them are Goetic demons, but there are other Hellborns too.”

Alastor sat down on the bed. He straddled Pentious’ lower body, which was only one long tail. He didn’t bring out his angelic knife since he didn’t plan to kill him. He wouldn’t need much more than his hands and teeth, and hopefully not his dick.

“See, the thing is, I don’t trust sinners at all,” Lucifer went on. “You guys are too self centered. You’re only looking out for yourselves. I can’t trust any of you to be loyal.”

Hearing such accusations from him of all people felt like eating a lemon. Lucifer sent him a wink. His frustration must have been palpable.

“Also, for some reason I can’t understand, a lot of sinners want to take over Hell?” Lucifer mused, looking away pensively. “I don’t know what you think you’ll achieve once you have the throne. What even is the point?”

“Power is the point,” Alastor argued between gritted teeth.

“Power?” Lucifer repeated. “My beloved executioner, tell me, who will you kill when you’ll be the one holding all the strings?”

Alastor didn’t answer. Instead, he plunged his nails inside Pentious, who let out a scream of pain. He was also pleading for his life, or something close to it. To be honest, Alastor wasn’t paying any attention to what he was saying.

“You want power because you don’t have it,” Lucifer exclaimed. “You’ll come to hate it once you get used to it.”

“Easy for you to say,” Alastor seethed. “You’ve never been helpless.”

Lucifer chuckled. “True,” he admitted.

Alastor took out an internal organ and ate it. As he presumed, he wasn’t enjoying this as much as when it was Lucifer. His dick was not the least bit interested.

The longer the torture went on and the less in the mood he became. As a last ditch attempt, he cut open a hole to fuck like he did Lucifer, but it left him unaffected. Completely cold.

Sitting back on the passed out sinner’s tail, Alastor sent Lucifer a look that conveyed he gave it his best shot. Lucifer hummed. He didn’t look surprised, but, of course, that didn’t mean anything.

“You do have a type,” Lucifer commented.

“As I have been saying,” Alastor explained.

Lucifer hummed again. He disappeared with the chair and appeared standing besides him. He circled his shoulders and gave his ear a gentle kiss. That simple touch affected Alastor more than everything he did to Pentious combined.

“We’ll need to find you a suitable victim next,” Lucifer told him in his ear. “Some overlord, perhaps?”

He pulled back with a knowing smile.

“How did you know?” Alastor blurted out.

Lucifer’s smile became crooked, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he informed him, “You can kill him or not, I don’t fucking care, just get rid of him.”

Alastor nodded.

“Now that that’s over, I have a hot date with a corpse,” Lucifer exclaimed. “Feel free to join us. The more the merrier!”

He vanished without waiting for an answer, which was just as well.

Alastor moved away from the body and to the living room. He sat down on his couch, lit himself a cigarette and slowly drank a glass of whiskey. He listened to music until he heard movements coming from the bedroom.

Pentious emerged in the living room looking sheepish.

“Y-you d-didn’t, um...”

He never finished his sentence. Instead of trying to figure out what he meant, Alastor pointed to an armchair.

The serpent sinner sat down hesitantly. “S-sir, am I, um, free to go?”

“What do you drink?”

“Sorry?”

Alastor sighed and showed off his glass, “What kind of alcohol do you drink?”

“Oh,” Pentious let out. “Beer’s fine. A stout, i-if possible.”

Alastor rolled his eyes. Of course he would be a beer drinker.

He made a stout appear on the coffee table. Pentious looked at the glass dubiously, but he picked it up and took a sip. His eyes widened in surprise and he let out a pleased noise.

“It’s the best beer I’ve ever tasted, sir,” he exclaimed excitedly.

“You said you were an inventor,” Alastor brought up.

“Y-yes,” Pentious answered. He chuckled self deprecatingly and added, “But his Majesty said he didn’t employ sinners, right?”

“You wouldn’t be working for him,” Alastor explained. “Can you write?”

“Sorry?”

“Can you write?” Alastor repeated. Seeing his dumbfounded expression, he added, “I am planning to host my own radio theater and I’m in dire need of a writer. If you’re an inventor, that means you have imagination. Can you write a script for me?”

“I...” Pentious trailed off, only to start over. “I’ve never written fiction before. I only wrote scientific papers, and not that many, t-to be honest.”

Alastor put down his glass and extinguished his cigarette in the ashtray. He stood up and leaned over Pentious with a wide smile. The sinner cowered like he should.

“Let me make something very clear: you better make yourself useful to me if you want to leave this room alive.”

Pentious swallowed hard. “I-I’ve never done it, but I can try. I do have a lot of ideas, sir, i-if you don’t mind science fiction?”

Alastor pulled back and crossed his arms, sighing. While it wasn’t his favorite genre, he supposed it would work. Usually, he wouldn’t appreciate Pentious’ lack of confidence, but it meant he was being truthful. If he was trying to bullshit him, he would have insisted he was the best writer there ever was.

“Let’s make a deal,” Alastor suggested. “Your soul in exchange for leaving here alive. I’ll even be generous and throw you a bone. I’ll allow you to use my shadows, but only as a shield against anyone but me. Do you agree?”

Pentious hesitated before he nodded.

“For now, I only want you to write a radio show, but I might ask more out of you. Your labor is mine.”

“N-not m-my b-b-body?” Pentious asked in a small voice.

“If I wanted you, I would have taken you earlier,” Alastor explained.

“S-sorry, it’s just, t-there was so much p-pain, I c-couldn’t t-tell if you, er… and the k-king s-said...”

“I didn’t rape you,” Alastor precised. The word left a bad after taste in his mouth. “Lucifer wanted me to, but I couldn’t. All I did was torture you.”

“Oh,” Pentious let out, relieved.

“So, do we have a deal?” Alastor asked, showing him his hand.

Pentious looked up at his face, then hesitantly took his hand. His handshake was weak and unconvinced, but it sealed the deal nevertheless. A collar appeared on his throat and Alastor received the leash in his hand.

Alastor tugged enough to make it taut. He enjoyed the feeling even more knowing what it felt like to be on the other side. Pentious looked up at him with wet, wide eyes. He appeared impossibly weak and skittish, with deficient survival instincts and a naive disposition, but his honesty was refreshing.

Even though they were nothing alike, Alastor was reminded of Blitzo.

While he would prefer having a loyal servant, Alastor would settle for an honest one. Who knew, Pentious could turn out to be an important asset. If he wasn’t, Alastor gave himself the option to kill him for a reason.

Chapter Text

Alastor sent Pentious home with a promise to check on him in two weeks. The good news was, even if he spent more than a month imprisoned, he still had a place to go back to. He was living in his famous zeppelin, which made him homeless, if you asked Alastor. He assumed no one would have claimed such an impractical mode of transportation, and he was right.

He sent his shadows with him to make sure he landed in the right place. It wouldn’t do to lose his first soul because he was careless. Once he made sure he was alone in his infamous zeppelin, he left him to his own devices.

In the next few days, he used all of his free time to reflect, gather information and collate it all in his notebook. He filled pages and pages with theories and interrogations.

The first thing he tested, once he was calm and collected enough, was the scope of Lucifer’s powers. As much as its use was intuitive, its limitations weren’t as transparent.

His first test was simple: he thought about going to his father. When nothing happened, he figured the problem was that he didn’t know what his father looked liked, what name he went by, or if he was still alive. When he tried to teleport to Stolas’ location and that didn’t work either, he realized that hypothesis was wrong.

Alastor tried to go to Stella, then Octavia, and finally Blitzo. It never worked.

That was when he understood he couldn’t go to someone if he didn’t know their location. He could find out where they were by sending out his shadows and then go to them, but he couldn’t make that information appear in his brain.

The truly puzzling part was that he could teleport people to him. He discovered that one by making Stolas manifest in front of him without meaning to. Alastor couldn’t go to him, but he could make him come to him. What was the difference between those two actions?

There were exceptions. The first one was Lucifer. Indeed, he had already teleported multiple times to him without knowing where he was. He even appeared in rooms he had never seen before.

The second one he identified was Pentious. He tried to go to him and, instead of appearing in the zeppelin, he landed outside. He found him fighting against one specific woman.

He didn’t get her name, but her weapon of predilection was bombs. He watched them fight to study their dynamic and rapidly came to the conclusion that she was the person Pentious was in love with. From what he could gather in a short window of time, the chances of his feelings being reciprocated were high.

That was good news for both of them. Pentious could get the woman he loved if he only mustered the courage to act on their sexual tension and Alastor had more blackmail material on him.

The similarity between those two exceptions to the rule was the presence of a soul contract. The most likely explanation was that the leash tying an owner to their soul acted as a location beacon. Alastor might not consciously know the location of Lucifer or Pentious, but he only needed to follow the thread.

Another limitation to Lucifer’s power was included in the deal, which Alastor re-read enough times to know it by heart. He could use his power as much as he wanted, but he could only kill if he was ordered to.

He tested this one on a walk he took in the city. It was his first time leaving the palace alone. Lucifer didn’t have special tasks for him in those few days, and he gave him a lot of free time.

Alastor lived in Pentagram City for less than two weeks, and yet, he couldn’t deny he felt nostalgia for a time far simpler that felt full of potential.

After a long and calming walk, Alastor chose a sinner at random and brought them into an alley. He was able to kill them with Lucifer’s power, but, unfortunately, they woke up again. He had to finish them off with his angelic dagger.

He could deal the killing blow, but it wouldn’t be fatal. It was a good news. It would have been dangerous if his power vanished instead.

Speaking of angelic steel, Alastor tried to make a better weapon than his dagger appear in his hand, but it didn’t work. He created many objects from scratch and, so far, angelic steel was the only material he couldn’t reproduce. He could teleport a weapon from the royal guards to his hands, but he couldn’t build angelic steel out of thin air, or even alter its shape.

Angelic steel was a limited resource. Not even Lucifer could create it.

Alastor also learned that created food was palatable, but not as tasteful as properly prepared food. He thought the exception to this was alcohol, but, when he tried consciously to create whiskey, it wasn’t as delicious as usual. It turned out he had unconsciously taken it from the palace reserves all along.

The most important information he retrained from all those tests was that intentions didn’t matter, but knowledge did. What he knew or didn’t know, even unconsciously, influenced how the power reacted to his attempts, but trying to know anything didn’t work. If it did, it would have been an incredible asset, but alas. Alastor would have to do the information gathering the old fashioned way.

Alastor analyzed the contract intensively, but it wasn’t a limitation placed on him. He could therefore assume it worked the same way for Lucifer.

What made Lucifer so dangerous was that he knew everything, while Alastor knew nothing. He would have to work on reversing that pattern.

Alastor also went out to ask around about his father, but, as he assumed, Frank Landry didn’t ring any bells for anyone. Most sinners discarded their last names, as he did. Some people did give him potential Franks to investigate, but, so far, out of the eight he was given, three turned out to be other people.

You would assume it would be hard for Alastor to recognize his father now that he had another appearance, but he was convinced he would know the moment he would see him. It didn’t matter that it had been fifteen years since he killed him. Alastor could never forget him.

While he didn’t put all his faith on those other Franks, it made sense to him that his father would keep his own name in Hell. That was one way they were similar.

Once there were no more Franks, he would look more broadly.

All of these investigations kept him busy, but he made sure to explore the top floor for his radio studio. After many deliberations, he chose the room on the east corner for the view. He could see the entirety of the south side gardens, as well as a part of the forest towards the east.

Before changing anything in it, he wanted to explore the other floors too, in case there was anything interesting. Who knew, he might even change his mind. As long as he didn’t have a script, he didn’t need his studio yet. He had time.

For close to a week, Alastor only saw his owner in the evenings and he didn’t make him spend the night. While he promised to find him an overlord to kill, so far, he seemed to be biding his time, which was fine with Alastor. He didn’t dare hope he forgot, but he would take the small reprieve.

They had sex every evenings, but Lucifer only let him torture him once. For one entire evening, he made Alastor wear that lingerie set he bought in the Lust Ring and used toys on him before finally fucking him. The other times, they had incredibly vanilla sex.

Alastor followed Lucifer’s whims without complaints, although he did use sarcasm as much as he could get away with.

The truth was, he was also thinking about a way to get Lucifer to renegotiate their deal to something fairer for him, but he didn’t have anything tangible yet. He wouldn’t act as long as he didn’t have a foolproof plan, or at least a good idea.

Even if torturing him could work, and that was highly debatable, as long as Lucifer could teleport away, it was a moot point. Figuring out a way to restrain him was his first step, before he could even find a negotiation tactic or leverage.

He could figure out a way to shut him up with angelic steel to avoid a suicide order, but he also had to make sure he couldn’t write his order down. The deal was clear that a written order would work just as well, but the one hour timer only started when Alastor read it. It would be impossible not to read it if Lucifer shoved the paper in his face without warning.

Perhaps a better approach would be to find a way to cut Lucifer from his power. Restraining him would be easy, even if they both didn’t have access to his power. He was much smaller than him, after all, and used to have his power to support him.

He would have to look for a potential spell. If he was lucky, it would turn Lucifer mortal too, but he wouldn’t hold his breath.

Making Lucifer cancel the deal wasn’t an option, as far as he knew. That was the downside to deals: once they were in effect, you couldn’t decide you didn’t want it anymore, even if you were the owner. The only ways to break a deal was to break the terms or die.

Lucifer’s only obligation was to give him access to his power, which wasn’t something he had control over. It went without saying that Alastor couldn’t be the one to break the terms. Even if that didn’t kill him, Lucifer would be keeping all his advantages, including his soul.

However, editing a deal was possible as long as both parties agreed. At least, according to his sources. If he could remove the killing order part of the deal, Lucifer would be powerless against him.

He would have to test it all on Pentious before Lucifer, though. It paid to be cautious when his life was on the line.

One morning, Alastor was summoned to his owner’s table. Stolas was sitting in front of him, with Lucifer at the head of the table. Food was already served, and there was coffee.

Calmly, Alastor served himself a cup and greeted them both. It seemed like his deduction was right. Stolas indeed came to Lucifer in the mornings when he needed to discuss his schedule. Alastor was thankful to be included, but he wasn’t about to say it out loud.

As Lucifer previously insisted, they ate breakfast before Stolas got into business.

“As you know, there’s the Goetia Ball this evening,” the chancellor brought up casually.

“Am I supposed to know what that is?” Alastor let out, peeved.

“It’s in the name,” Lucifer chuckled.

Stolas sighed, but dutifully explained, “Every two months, we throw a ball for all the Goetia to attend.”

“We turn the throne room into a ballroom,” Lucifer explained further. “It’s the only place that can hold all of them.”

“Most of the guests have confirmed their presence, with a few exceptions. Ava is about to give birth soon, so she and her husband will not be attending.”

“That’s too bad, I was hoping to see the baby,” Lucifer pouted. “Little Goetia are so adorable!”

“You’ll be meeting Liam for the first time, he’s only a month old,” Stolas comforted him.

They talked about the guests, who would be missing and why. Alastor listened closely and memorized as many names as possible, but he doubted most of those people were important.

Interestingly, this ball was mandatory. Alastor wondered if there was a punishment for missing it without a good reason.

There was no denying Lucifer’s memory was impressive. There were around five hundred Goetic demons alive currently, and Alastor was certain he could name them all, along with personal anecdotes and their most important life achievements.

That wasn’t taking into account the dead. How far did his knowledge go? Could he name the entire Goetia genealogy?

Either he had a different brain that could store memory more efficiently, or he figured out how to use his power for that purpose. If it was the latter, Alastor needed to figure it out too. An ability to store knowledge for later use would be an incredible advantage.

For now, he made a mental note to write down as much of it as soon as he would be able to.

Once they were done talking about the guest list, Stolas admitted, “I checked the death count before coming here and it’s already at twenty. We will only need one more Execution Day to fill the quota.”

There were two kills since the last Execution Day, and one of those were Alastor’s.

Lucifer looked away and hummed pensively. His mind appeared to be miles away. “That’s good,” he mumbled.

“Father?” Stolas wondered.

He shook his head as if to make bad thoughts go away. “Let me know when we’ll have enough prisoners.”

“Of course, Father,” Stolas agreed, subdued.

“Maybe, if we wait long enough, we won’t need to hold another one until next year.”

“That would be a relief,” Stolas admitted, mostly to himself.

Lucifer smiled, but didn’t comment further. It was impossible to tell if he viewed the prospect of not having another Execution Day as a positive or a negative. If it was the latter, then, surely, nothing prevented him from hosting it anyway. The death quota was a minimum, but there was no maximum.

Lucifer could kill a thousand sinners if he wanted, or a million. Who would stop him? Certainly not his guards, or Stolas, and Alastor couldn’t, whether he wanted to or not.

“You don’t have to come tonight,” Stolas told him, bringing Alastor out of his thoughts.

“Don’t say that, Stols,” Lucifer replied in a cheery voice. “I’m sure Al loves parties.”

“I do,” Alastor admitted. He used to frequent speakeasies, but he also loved the parties his victims threw. Entertaining people with his presence was always fun.

“I want everyone to meet him,” Lucifer went on. “He’s going to be a part of our lives now, Stolas.”

“For how long?” Stolas muttered to himself.

Lucifer either didn’t hear him or chose to ignore it.

Alastor had the rest of the day off while everyone else prepared for the party. He lurked around the throne room to observe the preparations.

It seemed everyone helped out for this special occasion. The guards was the only notable exception. The hundred active guards and the ten recruits were either training as usual or patrolling the city outside.

A hundred wasn’t a lot for an army, but it wasn’t like there was any chances of an invasion by a neighboring country. In Alastor’s opinion, they should be called police officers instead of royal guards. That seemed closer to their job description.

As for the staff of the palace, they were around fifty in total and included every types of Hellborns. Most had administrative jobs, but some worked in the kitchen as chefs or as the head butler. The scientists didn’t work in the palace, but instead had a full facility situated in the countryside.

There were no numbers on the imp staff. When he asked, a few days prior, Stolas informed him that they didn’t keep track of them.

“Aren’t they at the very least an important resource?” Alastor wondered through gritted teeth.

“Not really,” Stolas admitted. He was avoiding eye contact, his tell he was uncomfortable with the topic. “When too many die, we ask the guards to bring us more. I tried to keep track, but none of them wanted to give me their names, and the guards don’t like to be bothered for unimportant matters.”

“I see,” Alastor let out, and that was it.

By his estimation, there were at least fifty imps slaves, although it was hard to tell for certain. They all wore the same clothes no matter their gender and, since they didn’t speak, all Alastor had to go on was their faces and heights, which were incredibly similar. He would have to gather them all and put them in one room to count them, but it didn’t seem worth the effort, especially since the number seem to fluctuate quite a bit.

Let’s just say dead imps were nothing more than an inconvenience, and killing them never counted as a sin.

In total, more than two hundreds people lived at the palace at all times. You wouldn’t know it walking in the south wing, though. The corridors were so silent you could hear your own heartbeat.

Because he was curious, Alastor popped on the fifth floor. The throne room was alive with noises from all the preparations, but none of it traveled through the walls.

Alastor was summoned by Lucifer half an hour before the opening of the doors. He was wearing a brand new suit. It was completely white this time, no other colors, and it looked a lot more formal than even his royal suit. It must be his clothes for balls and banquets.

Lucifer stepped in his space to caress his lapels. Looking up at him with a fond smile, he informed him, “Honey, as much as I love your pink suit, shouldn’t you be wearing something more formal?”

Alastor put his hands on his slim waist and changed into a black tuxedo. “Is that more to your liking, my King?”

Lucifer giggled. “It’s perfect. Black suits you.”

Instead of answering, Alastor kissed him. Lucifer glided his hands up his shoulders to tease the hair on his nape.

“I would love to see his Majesty wearing black for once,” Alastor commented between kisses.

“Believe me, you wouldn’t,” Lucifer answered. His tone was teasing, but there was something dangerous beneath it.

Alastor didn’t argue further. He wanted to see his demonic form again, but he didn’t want it to happen because of him. Maybe, one day, someone would make him mad again and Alastor could admire him as a black void full of tentacles without worrying about his own safety.

Lucifer pulled back, slapped his ass and told him, “Come on, we should get going.”

“Anything I should be aware of?” Alastor wondered. After all, they had ample time.

The king smiled at him and assured him, “We call it a ball, but, really, it’s an occasion for the entire family to meet up. I like to keep in touch.”

Alastor nodded. It didn’t surprise him at this point. Lucifer was unhealthily invested in the Goetia family.

Tilting his head to the side, Lucifer promised, “You’ll like them.”

It was a veiled threat. He wanted him on his best behavior.

“I’m sure I will,” Alastor assured him.

Lucifer’s face softened to an innocent smile and he took his hand. They landed in the throne room turned ballroom. Even if he watched it happen, Alastor took the time to detail the decorations. They went all out with chandeliers, streamers, flowers, pristine white table clothes. It looked a bit gaudy to Alastor’s eyes, but it was still in the realm of tasteful.

Even the imps were wearing fancier clothes for the occasion. Speaking of, as soon as they descended down the throne stairs (Lucifer had to make them appear near the throne), an imp came to them with a tray. Alastor took a glass, but the king didn’t. He didn’t appear his sippy cup either and opted not to drink anything.

Alastor took a sip. Of course, it was champagne.

“Father, you’re early,” Stolas exclaimed, coming up to them. None of the guests had arrived yet, not even the royal guards, who didn’t have long to travel.

“Stolas, you look stunning,” Lucifer complimented him before jumping on him for a bear hug.

While they hugged, Alastor took the time to detail what he was wearing. It didn’t look that different from his normal attire, but he could see the cut and fabric were more formal.

Stolas left them to take care of last minute preparations. Lucifer leaned on Alastor and put his head on his shoulder. Alastor stroked his hair, keeping an eye on the doors.

When they opened, Lucifer pulled back and looked up at him excitedly. Alastor shared his enthusiasm.

It was his first ball in Hell. While he went to bars before, he never went to a proper Hell party until now.

Surprisingly, the guards weren’t the first to step in. A family came in, two parents with four kids. Lucifer ran to them and hugged them all, asking pertinent questions, calling them by names. Alastor followed him as he greeted everyone and introduced himself.

More guests came swarming in. Lucifer gave all of them a good amount of attention. Alastor did his best to keep up, but he had to admit he was feeling a bit out of the game.

Alastor was used to balls and parties: in fact, he thrived in them. He knew all the unspoken rules and proper etiquette, he was an expert at bending them to get the reactions he wanted. Most of all, he was an entertainer, and he always had many tales to tell.

The problem was that he didn’t know the proper etiquette for this ball. More than that, no one gave him more than a passing glance and a placating smile.

Alastor was used to being stared at. Up on Earth, it would often be because he was black. People would wonder why he was a guest and not part of the staff. Down here, Alastor had had his fair share of staring, especially in the Lust Ring. While it wasn’t a great feeling, he was good at turning those wary stares into positive attention.

He didn’t know what to do with no attention at all. He tried to insert himself in conversation, but, while people acknowledged his presence and his contributions, they quickly worked to exclude him.

Lucifer was no help at all. In fact, he was helping them, not him.

Perhaps trying to outshine Lucifer was his problem. He figured he would have better luck striking up conversations on his own.

The room filled up fast. Everyone was wearing formal clothes. Even the royal guards removed their armor for the occasion.

Alastor would wonder if it was safe for the entire royal army to not carry their weapon around, but Lucifer was here after all. If worst came to shove, he could teleport the armors and spears back to them, not to mention that he could protect everyone himself.

Still, it was a safety threat worth noting down. If someone wanted to attack the palace, they would probably do it now.

Soon enough, a band started playing music. They were made up of different Hellborns, but no Goetic demons. People started to dance in the middle of the room. Lucifer did a dance with Stolas first. Alastor watched from the sideline, seething.

He should have been his first dance.

He was considering leaving when someone addressed him, “You’re the new executioner, aren’t you?”

Alastor turned to detail his interlocutor. She was an older Goetic demon wearing a purple dress. If he had to guess her age, he would put it at around fifty. She was holding a plate of food and popped a grape in her mouth while studying him. She didn’t seem to care how anyone perceived her, but her posture was impeccable.

“My name is Alastor,” he answered cordially.

He expected her to offer her hand for him to kiss, but she didn’t. Instead, she ate a piece of meat using a toothpick, then informed him, her mouth still full, “I’m Starla.”

She swallowed audibly before adding, “I was the chancellor before Stolas.”

Alastor’s interest was piqued, to say the least.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Alastor insisted, bowing his head.

She laughed. “No need for formalities. Call me Starla, alright?”

Alastor nodded, but, before he could ask anything, she exclaimed, “I was told you were different from Husk, but that was an understatement.”

Swallowing his protests, Alastor wondered, “In what way?”

She hummed and looked up at the ceiling. She came back to him with a huge smile. “He was a big softie, but you look like a meanie.”

Alastor sighed. “I’ve been told.”

Starla put her plate down and walked in his space. She poked his chest without any kind of hesitation and asked teasingly, “That makes you angry, doesn’t it? To be compared to him?”

She pulled back with a knowing smile. Alastor softened his smile and asserted, “Not at all. Evidently, I am a lot stronger than he was.”

She laughed again. “And yet, they love him a lot more than you.”

The way she said those cruel words with such levity irked Alastor.

“Love doesn’t matter when you’re dead,” he argued.

“If you say so,” she let out. Picking up her plate again, she ate another piece of it.

After a lull in conversation, Starla exclaimed, “I like you. You’ve got gumption.”

“Aren’t you angry I killed Husk?”

“You didn’t kill him,” Starla asserted. She ate the last piece on her plate, put it down, then faced him with a more compassionate smile. “He died the moment he met Lucifer. Everything that happened after that was just delaying the inevitable.”

“You’re saying I’m dead too,” Alastor asserted.

She barked one laugh, then playfully slapped his chest. “Dead man walking!”

She sighed somewhat happily. “It’s funny. Despite common sense, you all think you’re going to be the exception.”

“I will be,” Alastor answered without meaning to.

She gave him a patronizing look of pity. “You’re the thirty-third executioner I meet in my life. They all swear they’re going to be the one to make it, and they all die.”

“How long were you the chancellor?”

“Thirty years. Lucifer kidnapped me when I was four. I got the standard education, then started my internship with my predecessor at twenty. At twenty-five, I was officially given the position.”

Alastor did the math in his head. Supposing Stolas followed the same path, that would make her sixty-six.

“I don’t look my age, do I?” She asked, as if she could tell what he was thinking.

She met executioners since she was four, or, in other words, sixty two years ago. If he did an average, the life expectancy of an executioner was less than two years.

“I noticed you don’t call him Father,” Alastor pointed out.

She chuckled. “I’m a bit too old for that, aren’t I?”

When he didn’t agree, she added, “I stopped calling him father when I retired. I figured I gave him enough of my consideration already. Since then, it’s been pure bliss.”

Every Goetic demon seemed to love Lucifer an unhealthy amount, but she appeared to be the exception. She could be a potential ally, if she indeed saw through his act.

Starla glanced at him, then exploded in laughter. She calmed herself down to let him know, “You want me to help you kill him, don’t you? Forget it. I might not fall at his feet anymore, but I don’t want to plan his murder either. I’m getting far too old for assassination plots.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Alastor let out.

She laughed even more and clapped his shoulder. “I knew I liked you for a reason. You have my blessing, but I’m not getting involved. Frankly, I’m not putting much faith in you, but here’s to hoping you’ll prove me wrong.”

“You really hate him,” Alastor commented.

She calmed down and sent him a complicated look. “That’s the problem. I don’t.”

Before he could ask her to explain, they were interrupted by Lucifer. He jumped on Starla, who received him gracefully.

“My little Star!” He shouted in delight. “I’m so happy to see you, you never visit your old man.”

“I’m not little anymore,” she retorted dryly.

“You’ll always be my little Star,” Lucifer argued. He pulled back to face her and detail her face. “You look healthy.”

“No thanks to you.”

It made Lucifer laugh. “I miss your sense of humor. Between you and me, Stolas is super sweet and adorable, but he’s not really one for jokes.”

She laughed with him. “I told you he’s too sensitive. I’m sure he’s hopeless without me.”

As if summoned by his name, Stolas also appeared. “It’s been more than ten years and you still can’t let it go. Are you sure you’re not the sensitive one?”

“Stolas,” Starla greeted him, nonplussed by his insult. “It’s good to see you. You didn’t come talk to me in the last ball.”

“I was busy,” Stolas pretended, looking to the side.

Starla hit him on the shoulder in camaraderie. “I’m sure you were.”

How they interacted was fascinating. A very surface level reading of their behaviors would indicate affection and complicity, but Alastor could read real animosity beneath the surface. He couldn’t tell why yet, but it didn’t look like this was a mentor fondly teasing their apprentice.

Starla was the one who brought Alastor back into the conversation. “You chose yourself a real fighter this time, didn’t you, Lucifer?”

“I told you to call me father, or at least Lu. Lucifer is too formal,” the king complained, but it sounded like a tired argument. “You know everyone was starting to doubt Husky could do the job. I figured I should pick someone who loves to kill to reassure everyone.”

“Everyone loved Husk. You’re the only one who doubted him.”

Even if she wasn’t under his spell anymore, Alastor found her brazen attitude shocking. She insisted she wanted nothing to do with Lucifer anymore, and yet, here she was, challenging him. Did she want to die, or was she unable to pretend anymore?

After a tense silence, Lucifer laughed and patted her head. “You’re always so funny, my little Star. You really should visit more often. I could always use a good laugh.”

She opened her mouth as if to protest, but she seemed to give up. Perhaps she wanted to protect her peace after all. She must not have known Husk very well, since she was retired by the time he came to the palace. She didn’t have a big enough stake in this.

Lucifer changed the conversation by asking about her kids. She had four of them. One was a royal guard, and the three others worked in other Rings either in business or sales. Alastor understood her husband must be dead, since he wasn’t mentioned at all.

She looked proud of her children, but there was a heaviness to the entire conversation. She was insisting she was at peace, living alone in her retirement, but Alastor could feel she was yearning for more.

They discussed for a while longer, until Lucifer offered his hand to Starla and asked her, “Will you give me a dance?”

She hesitated for a second before giving him her hand. “Of course, Lucifer, it will be my pleasure.”

They left together. Stolas sent him a wry look and informed him, “I’m not dancing with you.”

“I wasn’t asking,” Alastor retorted.

Surprisingly, he didn’t leave. Alastor gave him a moment before speaking again.

“Shouldn’t you be with your wife?”

He knew it was a low blow. That was the point.

Stolas sighed. All of his animosity towards Alastor left him, but it was only to direct it at someone else. “She made me understand she didn’t want my presence, and she’s keeping Via with her.”

Alastor scanned the room until he found the two in question. Stella was talking with a group of people, holding Via by the hand. The girl looked bored out of her mind, but too polite to say anything.

Discreetly, Alastor swallowed her in his shadows and made her appear in front of them. Stolas didn’t startle. Kneeling down, he offered his daughter his hand and asked her, “My little owlet, will you give me a dance?”

Octavia giggled before taking his hand. He lifted her in his arms, but, before leaving, he glanced at him with gratitude in his eyes. Alastor was grateful he didn’t voice his thanks out loud.

Now left alone again, Alastor looked over at Stella. She was furious, but not worried. She must have seen her daughter wasn’t in any danger.

Alastor watched the two duos of father and daughter dancing together. While Stolas and Octavia expressed their joy more candidly, Lucifer and Starla did seem to be getting along well. There was no doubt she felt love for her adoptive father.

Feeling vindictive, Alastor sank in his shadows and appeared near Stella. “Good evening, Stella. I trust you’re having a good time.”

She sent him a scathing look, but she let out through gritted teeth, “Of course I am, Alastor, but thank you so much for asking.”

“Will you introduce me to your friends?” Alastor asked pleasantly.

Although it was clear she didn’t want to, she obliged. Only the last two made an impression on Alastor.

“This is Paimon, the previous captain of the royal guard.”

“I retired last month,” the man told him. While he appeared healthy and strong, he looked to be well in his sixties.

“And here is my brother, Andrealphus,” Stella finished. She sounded bored now.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Andrealphus insisted, his voice syrupy and fake. “Stella told me so much about you.”

“I’m sorry I can’t say the same,” Alastor retorted.

Andrealphus laughed to dismiss him. The two siblings tried their best to make him go away, but Alastor used Paimon to keep himself relevant.

The older Goetia didn’t look interested in him at first, but Alastor knew how to get his attention. He used all his knowledge of powerful men to pander to his ego as much as possible, until Paimon was eating out of his hands. The two siblings ended up leaving with flimsy excuses, and the others in the group made themselves scarce.

Smiling large, Alastor touched Paimon’s shoulder to see his reaction. While he was too self assured to become flustered, there was no denying Alastor affected him.

That was interesting. Far too interesting to resist.

They moved to a dark corner, where Alastor appeared a couch. He chose a two sitter on purpose. He sat down languidly and patted the other place in invitation.

Paimon didn’t hesitate or resist. He sat down and put his hand on his thigh.

“I was very surprised when his Majesty chose Stolas, but I can admit he grew in his role,” Paimon confessed, leaning in his space.

That revelation took Alastor by surprise. He was seducing Stolas’ biological father, wasn’t he? It almost made him laugh out loud to imagine his reaction, but he was able to tamper it down.

“I didn’t know he was your biological child,” he whispered alluringly, his fingers traveling up his arm.

“He was such a weakling. He got that from his mother,” Paimon argued.

Blaming his wife for his son’s perceived weakness?

He was perfect.

“Perhaps we should take this somewhere else?” Alastor suggested, leaning close enough to kiss.

“I need to be back before the end of the party. My wife will be waiting for me.”

“I’ll be quick,” Alastor promised.

He tried to swallow them in his shadows, but it didn’t work. Instead, he was pulled away by his leash.

His head hit the ground with a resounding thud, but he was quick to get back on his feet. Lucifer glared at him in pure disgust. He made a gesture towards Paimon and informed him, without looking away from Alastor, “You should go back to your wife.”

“Y-yes sir,” the Goetic demon agreed, scrambling away.

Lucifer pushed Alastor until he landed on the couch. He straddled him, keeping his leash taut in his left hand. His wings sprouted out of his back, but he didn’t change in his demonic form, which was encouraging.

“Are you jealous?” Alastor asked.

He wanted to sound threatening, but his voice was shaking. The truth was, Paimon had been so irresistible he didn’t think about the consequences before seducing him. Now that he was gone, he could tell it had been the worst idea of his existence to target a Goetic demon, especially in Lucifer’s vicinity.

He could die for this insolence.

Lucifer cupped his cheek. “Al, honey, you can’t kill a Goetia.”

“I wasn’t–”

Lucifer shushed him with a finger on his mouth. “Don’t lie to me. You were going to kill him as soon as you got him alone.”

Leaning closer, the glint in his eyes cruel, he guessed, “Or maybe you would have let him fuck you first.”

Alastor wanted to protest, but, the truth was, Lucifer wasn’t wrong.

“You can’t sleep with a Goetia either,” Lucifer asserted. “You’re their mother now. Act like it.”

Alastor swallowed, but it was painful. His throat felt tight, and it wasn’t just because of the collar.

“Do I make myself clear?” Lucifer enunciated deliberately.

With no other choices, Alastor nodded.

Lucifer’s body relaxed. He disappeared the chain, but stayed on his lap, laughing. “I can’t believe you tried to pull that off at the ball of all places. Lust makes you so stupid, it’s weirdly cute.”

“It wasn’t lust,” Alastor argued, his voice hoarse.

“You keep telling yourself that,” Lucifer placated him.

They shared a short silence before Lucifer added, “I need to find you a proper victim soon.”

“I can hunt myself.”

“Sure, but something tells me you won’t tell me if you do find someone.”

Alastor gritted his teeth, but didn’t comment.

“Al, you know you got off easy, right?” Lucifer asked him nonchalantly. “I could have killed you for this. Hell, I still might.”

Alastor swallowed his pride. “What can I do to apologize?”

Lucifer chuckled. “You can start by apologizing.”

Although it pained him, Alastor played the game. “I’m sorry, your Majesty, for trying to sleep with and kill one of our children.”

“Good,” Lucifer agreed, patting his head.

“I promise to control myself better,” Alastor added.

The king caressed his ears, making them twitch. “I’m in a good mood, so I’ll keep it at that. If I catch you again trying to kill or fuck a Goetia, I’ll call the order.”

Message received.

“It’s my fault too,” Lucifer went on. “Dogs misbehave when their masters don’t give them enough attention.”

Alastor couldn’t help growling, unfortunately proving his point.

Lucifer pecked his lips, then stood up and offered him his hand, “Will you give me a dance, my beloved wife?”

Although it pained him, Alastor took his hand and let him bring him to his feet.

“With pleasure, my dear husband.”

Lucifer lead him to the dance floor and they danced for the next couple songs. Despite everything, Alastor had fun. He assumed their difference in height would make it awkward, but Lucifer was used to leading a taller partner. He was an excellent dancer.

The music slowed down and they plastered their bodies together in a slow waltz.

“Thanks for giving Via to Stolas, it clearly fixed his mood.”

Alastor found the chancellor with his eyes. He was slow dancing with his wife now, but she looked far angrier than him. In fact, he had a smile on his face, but no one would mistake Stella as the reason for it.

“I didn’t do it for him,” Alastor argued.

“You’re growing fond of her,” Lucifer deduced.

Alastor didn’t care about that whiny brat or the hypocritical chancellor. He only took Octavia from Stella on a whim. It had nothing to do with how bored she looked or how down Stolas was.

“I don’t blame you, she is adorable.”

“Why did you choose her?” Alastor found himself asking.

Lucifer hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t really know. Maybe because she reminded me so much of Stolas?”

“Starla is nothing like them.”

“No, she’s not,” Lucifer agreed with a laugh. “I don’t look for a specific trait in my chancellors. I just choose the one I like the most.”

“You’re saying it was a whim?” Alastor wondered. Surely, that couldn’t be all there was to it.

“More like a gut feeling,” Lucifer agreed.

“It had nothing to do with Stolas being her father?” Alastor unthinkingly asked.

“He isn’t her father,” Lucifer corrected him firmly.

Alastor didn’t push his luck farther and dropped the topic entirely.

When they stepped out of the dancing floor, the party was dying down. Some of the families, especially those with young children, were already gone. Others were saying their goodbyes.

“The guards are going to party until early morning,” Lucifer informed him. “I’m gonna go to bed soon, I’m tired.”

As if to punctuate his point, he yawned.

Starla came up to them to tell them goodbye. She hugged Lucifer first, then, surprisingly, Alastor as well.

“Good luck,” she whispered for his ears only.

Lucifer left after she did. Alastor gave him a good night kiss, but stayed behind. Octavia had been put to bed by Stella already, and Andrealphus was gone, as well as Paimon. While Alastor was disappointed, it was probably for the best.

The king wasn’t lying when he said Stolas and Vassago got along well. Alastor watched them drink and laugh together. Alastor didn’t detect one trace of animosity between them. They really looked like they were good friends, best friends, even.

It made Alastor wonder. While he didn’t see them interact together, he could imagine Stolas didn’t like Andrealphus much more than his sister. Did Lucifer name Vassago as the captain instead of Andrealphus because of Stolas?

One thing was becoming increasingly clear. Despite everyone insisting he chose the right person for the job, Lucifer didn’t pick people on merit alone.

Chapter Text

Alastor asked Stolas if the wing where Lucifer and him lived was ever cleaned, because, in his explorations so far, he had noticed a stark lack of dust. More than that, there was a pleasant floral smell floating around in every room.

The answer was yes. Once a week, the staff would clean every room one by one, including Lucifer and his. While it seemed too frequent for a wing no one used, he understood the palace had standards to uphold.

Knowing that, Alastor avoided the place entirely that day and spent most of it outside the palace. He made it through four other Franks who weren’t his father, but he was also able to add seven to his list of now fifteen potential men to investigate.

It was the next day that he found something he wasn’t looking for.

He stepped into a second floor room like all the others, but, this time, he caught movement. Something scurried away as soon as he opened the door, but he was able to catch it before it could climb into the vents.

It was only when he brought it in front of his eyes that he realized he wasn’t looking at something, but, rather, someone.

“Hello, bad boy,” the little creature said in a seductive tone.

Alastor squinted his eyes at this person. He was holding her by the back her stained dress like a cat. She was no taller than his torso, and very slim as well, which made her smaller than imps. There was only one big eye on her face and, even though she had no insectile features, she reminded him of a bug.

He wracked his brain for every type of Hellborns he knew, to no avail. That only left one possibility.

“My dear, are you a sinner?” Alastor asked in a friendly, but platonic, voice.

She laughed like she was drunk, or high.

“I’m Niffty,” she introduced herself without answering his question.

“Alastor,” he answered.

He put her down and knelt on one knee to be at her level. She didn’t offer him his hand to kiss, but he couldn’t say he was displeased about it.

“I know,” she answered with an all too pleased smile.

He could ask how she knew, but it didn’t seem pertinent.

“What are you doing, hiding here?”

“I clean,” she informed him. She pulled a dust sweeper out of seemingly nowhere.

“Lucifer doesn’t employ sinners,” Alastor let out pensively.

She giggled. “The ultimate bad boy!”

“You know Lucifer?”

While it seemed improbable he would hire a sinner as a maid, Alastor had seen far stranger things.

“I know all about him,” she assured him in a lecherous tone.

Without warning, she jumped on him and climbed his shoulders. She settled behind his head and plucked out a handful of hair. She scuttled back just as fast and informed him, “For my collection.”

Once more, he caught her with his shadows. Feeling far less generous, Alastor stood up and burned the stolen hair right out of her hand. He walked to the couch and sat Niffty in the armchair. She seemed a little too pleased to be restrained by his shadows.

“Tell me how you got in,” Alastor ordered her.

“I dug a tunnel.”

A tunnel? In the ground? How did she make it through the walls and floors? So many questions, but Alastor had a feeling she wouldn’t offer more details.

Switching gears, he asked, “How long have you been here?”

She hummed and counted on her fingers. “I saw the kitty cat, and the one with the weird wings, and the shark who didn’t last long, and the cute turtle. You’re my favorite.”

Was she listing previous executioners? If she saw at least four excluding him, that meant she had been hiding in the palace for years.

Dodging that last part, Alastor wondered, “No one ever found you before me?”

“I know how to hide,” she boasted.

Alastor leaned back in the couch and considered all that new information. While he wouldn’t exclude the possibility Lucifer was aware of her presence, there was a high probability he wasn’t. Someone who could hide from Lucifer for that long would be an invaluable tool.

Manifesting his mic, Alastor stood up and walked to the chair. Niffty looked up at him with excitement in her lone big eye. She was squealing.

“How about we make a deal?” Alastor suggested, leaning in her space.

“Yes!” She screamed in ecstasy.

Alastor was so taken aback he took a step back. While enthusiasm was usually a good sign, to see her accept a deal without hearing the terms made him uneasy. He wasn’t worried about hidden motives, because her intentions were a bit too clear.

“Have you been spying in Lucifer’s room?” Alastor wondered, crossing his arms on his chest as if to protect himself.

Her laughter said it all, but she added nonetheless, “You’re a very bad boy. Naughty boy.”

Alastor gritted his teeth. What did she see? More than enough, he imagined.

“Where?” He croaked out.

“A hole in the wall,” she informed him. She didn’t show one ounce of guilt or shame.

Could it be so simple? One hole he and Lucifer overlooked?

Somehow, he didn’t think Lucifer would mind a public, but Alastor did. He should kill her for that affront. No matter how helpful she could be, knowing she had been witness to such humiliations was unbearable.

Alastor took in a deep breath, then released it. He had an opportunity to seize here. All he needed to do was put some ground rules in the deal so it wouldn’t happen anymore.

“Here are my terms,” Alastor let out. His voice was hoarse, but the radio filter hid it well. “First, you will never spy on any intimate moments between Lucifer and me.”

She booed.

“Please let me watch, please please pretty please?”

To think he found Lucifer shameless. Alastor seriously doubted she grasped the consequences of her actions. She seemed to lack the empathy to allow shame or guilt.

“No,” Alastor retorted categorically. “If you try to spy on us having sex, or any sexual encounter I might have with anyone, including alone, my shadows will put you out of eye and earshot. Also, you can never spy in my room.”

She pouted. “Can I at least watch you kissing?”

Alastor sighed. “Yes.”

“Yay!” She cheered, not unlike a kid.

“Second, you will spy on other people in the palace at my demand and write reports for me.”

“I can do that,” she beamed, apparently happy to be of use.

“Third, you can’t tell Lucifer about any of this and you can’t willingly reveal your presence to him.”

She didn’t pout. She was smiling. “I can watch him?”

Alastor felt some vindication uttering that answer. “Yes, as long as I’m not there.”

She cackled.

“Finally, I get your soul. In exchange, you can use my shadows to hide or travel. However, you won’t be able to use them against me. I will always be able to remove your access to them at my convenience, not yours.”

She nodded.

Alastor showed her his hand. “We have a deal?”

He freed her right hand to shake the deal, then let her go entirely. She moved around the room through his shadows while laughing maniacally.

“Niffty, do you remember what I asked?”

She stopped in front of him and recited obediently, “Spy on people. Note things down. Don’t watch you and ultimate bad boy go at it.”

“Perfect,” he agreed. He patted her head for good measure, which seemed to make her happy.

What a mysterious sinner. At least, Alastor could rest assured she wouldn’t be able to spy on his intimate moments anymore.

“For the first week, walk around everywhere and try to find something interesting,” Alastor ordered her.

“Interesting?” She wondered.

“Note down everything that gets your attention,” Alastor suggested.

“Yes sir,” she agreed.

He made a notebook and a pen her size appear. She took both without protesting. For someone who spent years hiding away to creep on people, she was surprisingly eager to help. Alastor had the feeling he would never truly understand her.

“I will summon you in a week,” Alastor informed her.

“See you later,” she answered. Considering what he knew, it sounded especially ominous.

She sank in his shadows with surprising ease and left the room. She took to them faster than he did, even if, as far as he could tell, she had been powerless before.

Alastor sighed, rubbed his face, then decided to take a break in his room. As soon as he landed on his couch, he used his power to make all the walls whole. She had been spying in Lucifer’s room, but better safe than sorry.

He didn’t want anyone witnessing those tears.

Alastor used sex to manipulate people, but it was on his own terms. Even when Lucifer forced him, Alastor had stepped into the situation knowingly. He might not have had control, but he at least knew what was happening to him.

There was power in knowledge too.

Niffty took all of his power away from him and, the worst part was, she didn’t seem to realize it. She wasn’t aware she was holding all his strings.

Not anymore, he reminded himself. He took back control from her. He made a promise to himself: if she didn’t prove useful in the next two months, he would kill her.

Lucifer didn’t know about her, presumably. He had more knowledge than him about at least one topic.

It was a huge win.

Alastor calmed himself and noted to check on Niffty in a week. He was due to meet with Pentious in two days. He was slowly but surely building his own network. If he went on like this, he wouldn’t be left powerless once he would kill Lucifer. Perhaps he would be an overlord by that point.

That was a nice thought.

The next day, he decided it was about time he figured out where the angelic steel in the palace came from. Comparing his own small modest dagger to the long, stylized spears of the royal guards made it clear they didn’t have the same provenance. The palace must have a more legitimate source than him.

“Heaven,” Stolas answered him plainly, when he asked.

He was in a chipper mood, this afternoon. He must have received a visit from a certain imp earlier in the day.

“When the angels visit on the solstice,” Stolas explained further, leaning back in his chair and looking outside longingly, “we ask them to provide us with what we need. Adam might bitch about not being able to exterminate us himself, but he’s not going to say no. More weapons in circulation means more sinners die. Even he can’t argue with that logic.”

“How do you lose any of it?”

Stolas turned back to him with a sigh. “The royal guards aren’t as infallible as you seem to think. They lose their spears, or they get stolen. Sometimes, sinners will take a guard by surprise, steal their weapon and kill them with it.”

Something occurred to Alastor. “We are talking about thousands of years, and yet, there aren’t that many angelic weapons circulating out there, as far as I can tell. If we lost so much of it, where is it?”

“I’m sure you are aware of the black market?” Stolas asked him rhetorically. Everyone present on his first day as an executioner had seen him use contraband. “Someone is keeping control over it.”

Alastor dragged his claws on his mic, utterly intrigued. “Who is this person?”

“No idea,” Stolas admitted. “We have been investigating them for close to a thousand years, but they are impossible to pin down. All we know is that they go by the name Carmilla Carmine.”

A memory came back to Alastor. The two sinners he killed for his dagger had been discussing who they purchased it from. He was pretty sure the name he heard ended with ‘mine’, which proved to him that Stolas must be telling him the truth.

“It’s frustrating,” the chancellor admitted, tapping his desk with the end of his fountain pen. “We suspect they have insider knowledge from the royal scientists or Heaven. Either way, they are able to reshape angelic steel. For your knowledge, it’s not as simple as melting it. There is an entire secret process to it, and yet, they are able to fashion entirely different weapons with what leaks from here. Adding to the fact they have been able to hide from us for almost a millennium, they must be incredibly powerful.”

Alastor summoned his dagger as evidence. Stolas gave it a look and nodded. “Heaven would never make a handle design so subtle, and our science team rarely makes weapons.”

That was surprising. “Why not?”

“Let’s just say we focus on other endeavors,” Stolas evaded the question. Apparently, Alastor didn’t have all his trust yet.

He put his dagger away and asked, “Can I visit the research facility?”

“They don’t allow any sinners to go in. Being the executioner is not going to help you, they are very strict about it. Father is the only one that could make you the exception.”

“Not you?”

Stolas leaned back and looked at the ceiling. His good mood was gone.

“Listen, Alastor, frankly, I have better things to do.”

Alastor observed him in silence. Now would be a good time to bring up Blitzo, and yet, he was loathed to do it.

Stolas sighed heavily. He stood up and leaned against the window. Alastor was starting to wonder if the reason he gravitated towards it when he was troubled was because Blitzo climbed through there when he visited.

“If you can’t convince Lucifer to bring you, I’ll consider helping you,” Stolas surprisingly relented.

“Isn’t there anyone else who could give me clearance?” Alastor wondered.

“No,” Stolas asserted. “It’s not even a guarantee they will let me bring you in. It would be easier if you were a Hellborn.”

Stolas was saying he could go in if he wasn’t a sinner. That gave him an idea.

Alastor didn’t have to make use of it yet, but he didn’t forget his power afforded him the best disguise. His safest bet would be to change into Stolas, since he was the Goetic demon he knew the best and with the most authority. The problem was, the chancellor would know all the current projects. Alastor wasn’t sure he could pretend he did as well.

He could kidnap one of the researchers and pass as them, but he would meet the same hurdle, not to mention he would be found out immediately after. He could choose one of the palace employees, but what reason would they have to go to the research facility? He considered trying to get in with the supplies or simply lurk in his shadows, but he wanted to be able to talk to someone who could explain the science to him. He couldn’t do that unless he was invited in.

There was only one viable option, but he didn’t want to consider it.

Alastor spent the rest of the day preparing and looking for alternatives. He memorized all the employees names and their functions. While there wasn’t a plan of the facility, he found in Stolas’ office how to get there.

He also acquired another important tidbit of knowledge. He thought the barrier keeping the sinners in Pride allowed them to go everywhere in the Ring, but he was wrong. There was one small portion that was off limits, and that was where he needed to go.

He had been wondering why Lucifer didn’t put the facility on another Ring if he wanted to avoid sinners, but he supposed he wanted it close by for convenience. With the barrier in the way, he could have his cake and eat it too.

The road was on the south of the palace, past the gardens, and it lead behind the forest instead of passing through it. Alastor couldn’t teleport at the entrance, but he could follow the road in his shadows, which would be almost as fast.

It was time for dinner when he admitted defeat. There were no other options.

He would have to disguise himself as Lucifer.

Alastor was a good actor, but he knew he would never be able to fool someone who knew Lucifer well, like Stolas. There was a magnetism to the Devil that was impossible to reproduce.

However, he would assume the king didn’t visit the research facility often. Some of the employees were Goetic demons, but, luckily, the one responsible for the facility was an Infestor called Rolando. As long as he stuck to this guy, Alastor should be able to play his role just fine.

Nobody would dare question Lucifer, even if he asked questions he should know the answers to. All he needed to do was show off his power and that should convince anyone.

He had to assume Lucifer impersonators were a rare occurrence. They wouldn’t be looking for reasons to doubt him. As long as he stayed self assured, he should be fine.

In front of his mirror, he turned into Lucifer and made his wings appear. He mimicked his threatening expression. As expected, he wouldn’t be fooled by it, but he judged it convincing enough.

His wings, though, were uncannily accurate. He caressed the feathers with his fingertips thoughtfully. Since Lucifer could change the shape of his body to his desires, those might not be his original wings. Were they supposed to be red, or was that Lucifer’s choice, to make himself more impressive?

Alastor turned back into himself with a shiver. He hated to look and sound like Lucifer.

Tomorrow would be a long day.

He was summoned to dinner not long after. He ate his steak distractedly, going over his plan in his head.

Lucifer was subdued as well, eating his pancakes without striking up a conversation. If he was less preoccupied, Alastor might have recognized it as a sign of things to come.

“Al?” Lucifer asked in an innocuous voice.

Alastor hummed in ascent. He didn’t look up from his plate.

“Kill yourself.”

The words resonated in the silent room.

Alastor’s fork fell on the table. As if in a trance, he looked up to find Lucifer staring back at him. His eyes were two empty voids. He could read no emotions in them. Not boredom, not amusement, not desire, not anger. His mouth was drawn in a neutral line, neither a smile nor a frown, and his plate and sippy cups were gone.

Lucifer might as well have been a lifeless doll.

“W-what?” Alastor croaked out. His throat hurt.

Lucifer tilted his head to the side, and a hint of humor found its way in his glassy eyes.

“You heard me.”

His voice was cold, but not threatening. It was devoid of life.

Since the Goetia Ball, Alastor didn’t do anything to incur his wrath. Could he still be mad about Paimon? If so, why would he wait a couple days before enacting his vengeance?

Alastor refused to let this be his end. He didn’t even make it three weeks. There was no way he would accept to die for no reason.

He was better than this. He deserved more. Lucifer couldn’t treat him this way, not after everything. Didn’t he at least deserve a proper death?

Alastor swallowed, only to choke on his spit.

Lucifer’s lips stretched in a smile. “You have an hour to change my mind.” With a chuckle, he amended, “Fifty-nine minutes.”

After coughing a couple times, Alastor forced his brain to think.

It wasn’t a final order. Lucifer was testing him. He could stop panicking about his incoming death.

It couldn’t be the first time he threw that kind of ultimatum. How many executioners before him succeeded? How many failed?

Those questions weren’t helpful. Alastor had a time limit, he needed to change gears. What would Lucifer enjoy? From him?

Their eyes met over the table. Lucifer was studying him with all the detachment of a scientist dissecting a frog.

Alastor refused to be a frog. He was better than his predecessors. He was better than Lucifer and everyone else in Hell, Earth or Heaven. One day, he would prove it. Until then, he needed to survive.

Standing up, he walked to the bed and sat down. Taking a deep breath to settle his heart, he laid on his back and made all his clothes disappear.

He didn’t need to make sure he had Lucifer’s attention. He could feel his eyes burning his skin.

Opening his legs, Alastor took another steadying breath and used his shadows to tear off his genitals. He let out a scream that broke halfway through. It was only the beginning and it hurt more than everything he had been through in his entire existence.

Lucifer teleported between his legs, already naked. He looked excited. His dick too.

“Not the most original idea, but I love it,” he decided with a wide grin.

Panting, Alastor sharpened the tip of his shadow tentacle and plunged inside the wound.

Stars exploded in his vision, and everything went white. He must have screamed, but a ringing in his ear drowned it out.

When he removed the tentacle, he was already sobbing, his chest heaving with too frequent fast breaths. His throat hurt as if he screamed for hours.

“Thanks, honey,” Lucifer told him.

Before Alastor could answer, or formulate any thought, he plunged inside.

The world ceased to exist, and so did Alastor. There was nothing but incomprehensible, searing, all encompassing pain.

Alastor was endless, timeless, frozen in time.

What brought him out of his torpor were little slaps on his cheek. The pain was manageable again. Alastor blinked his eyes to focus on Lucifer, but he couldn’t read his expression.

“Babe, you didn’t go deep enough,” his owner explained.

Alastor moved his gaze down with difficulty. The tip of Lucifer’s dick was wet with his blood. It only went down to a third of its length.

“Don’t keep me waiting,” Lucifer insisted, more playful than threatening.

Alastor spared himself the energy to have one thought: how could Lucifer stay conscious, let alone act, through such immeasurable pain? He had made it look so easy to endure Alastor had, quite naively, believed it wouldn’t be that bad.

One thing was sure: torture was off the table as a negotiation technique. Lucifer must be impervious to pain. Did he have a spell to protect him, or did he get used to it through sheer willpower? Perhaps he lacked the nerve endings to feel anything at all, but, if so, why would he enjoy sex so much?

His entire body trembling, Alastor summoned his shadows. The tentacle shook too, making it harder to control. Powering through, he managed to bring the tip to his entrance, but he couldn’t make himself push inside.

Lucifer hummed. “You’re losing precious time, honey.”

Alastor closed his eyes and took deep breaths. He could do this. The alternative was to die. He had to do this.

Why was it so much harder than the first time?

Lucifer put a hand on his chest, heavy and hot. “You can do it,” he comforted him, his voice warm and soothing like a hot bath after a long day.

Alastor hated that it worked, but he couldn’t waste this newfound courage. Without thinking twice, he plunged inside himself.

The world went white again.

He wasn’t sure if he pulled out or Lucifer did it for him. Alastor took in a deep breath and tried to focus on what was happening around him.

“That should do it,” Lucifer informed him. “Thanks, honey.”

Alastor couldn’t brace himself. He didn’t have the energy.

Whatever happened next, he couldn’t tell. He didn’t lose consciousness, but he went blind and deaf. He couldn’t feel anything but the branding heat inside him. It was the kind of pain that made everything go numb.

He didn’t have a name anymore, nor a past, a future. If he could think at all, he would find this moment oddly soothing. To cease to exist so thoroughly would be peaceful, if it wasn’t for the constant ringing.

This time, Alastor came back to his body slowly. He was on his back, naked. His entire body tingled, but not in the pleasurable way after sex. Ants were crawling under his skin.

Pain radiated from between his legs, but it was slowly ebbing away.

Lucifer was curled up on his side like a cat. Alastor couldn’t see his face, but his blond hair was sweaty. He used the little strength he gained to bring his fingers to it. The strands were soft, even humid with sweat. Alastor resented how comforting it was.

Lucifer sighed happily. “Your pussy felt so good, Al. I hope you’ll let me fuck it again.”

Alastor groaned.

There was something he was forgetting. Something important. Urgent, even.

Lucifer caressed his chest, circling one of his nipples teasingly. Alastor blinked at the ceiling, trying to dispel the fog in his brain.

What was it?

He clicked his tongue. He was so thirsty. He needed water, but holding a glass was too much effort.

He yearned for water so candidly he unknowingly made some appear on his lips. He licked them and greedily swallowed the fresh liquid.

It came back to him like a slap to the face.

“The order,” he grunted out, his mouth still fuzzy.

Lucifer hummed in question, then gasped in realization. He almost sounded guilty when he admitted, “I almost forgot.”

Alastor was decidedly not amused.

“I suppose it was fun,” Lucifer admitted. “You didn’t surprise me, but I doubt anything could have. Alright, you pass. Good for you!”

Alastor gritted his teeth, refusing to beg for him to go faster. Lucifer took his sweet time, but he finally relented.

“I retract my order. You don’t have to kill yourself anymore.”

He couldn’t help it: he sighed in relief.

Lucifer chuckled. “You didn’t need to be so worried. Obviously, I would retract it.”

Right. Obviously.

“It’s too early for you to die,” Lucifer went on, speaking with such levity it was insulting. “In fact, I prepared a gift for you.”

Gingerly, Alastor sat up. Lucifer didn’t protest and sat with him. Alastor looked down. His dick was only half healed, making Lucifer laugh uncontrollably.

“Your dick’s so tiny,” he puffed out between two laughter.

Not for the first time, Alastor imagined killing him. Even if it wouldn’t be permanent, it was so tempting he considered it.

The moment passed. Lucifer stopped laughing with a sigh, stood up and offered him a hand. Alastor took it.

They stood in front of the bed, dressed again. Lucifer had his sweater, and Alastor was in his red and black suit. His legs were wobbly, but those were only remnants of the pain. He was fully healed.

Lucifer snapped his fingers, even if he didn’t need to, and someone dropped in the bed. Alastor heard it crack before he saw it was caved in. Whoever he summoned was massive. Even in Lucifer’s impossibly big bed, their limbs fell over all sides.

There was a lot of pink, black and neon green.

“Who is it?” Alastor wondered.

“I think her name was Zeezi?” Lucifer let out pensively.

Alastor turned back to him, speechless.

“She’s a real piece of work,” Lucifer assured him. “She’s an overlord who owns a lot of souls, but I hear what she’s most known for is crushing people under her feet for fun. That’s right up your alley, isn’t it?”

They stared at each other in silence. Alastor heard some shuffling coming from the bed, but he paid it no mind.

“She’s powerful, she abuses people and she doesn’t want you,” Lucifer told him, poking his chest. “What more could you possibly want?”

Lucifer’s smile left no place to doubts: he knew what the problem was. He just wanted Alastor to admit it himself.

It was through gritted teeth that he spoke his next words, “She’s not a man.”

His smile widened. “I knew it! You’re gay, aren’t you?”

Alastor looked away. He wanted to argue it wasn’t so simple, there were a lot more conditions he needed, and, anyway, none of this was about sex, it had never been. However, his tongue was tied.

“Honey, I know humans have a lot of prejudices about being gay, but I don’t care. We’re in Hell. Assume your sexuality!”

Showing his back to the bed, Alastor stared at the wall. Why was he hurt Lucifer didn’t believe him about not being attracted to anyone? He couldn’t care less about his opinion.

“Al, just admit it,” Lucifer ordered him.

Alastor faced him again. He didn’t expect to find a worried expression, but his holier than thou smile was irritating to no end.

“You’re attracted to men,” Lucifer repeated, pushing his index in his chest. “Say it.”

After going through immense pain to save himself, Alastor wanted to die. The urge carved itself so deep in his chest he wondered if Lucifer was the one who put it there with his index finger.

“I’m attracted to men,” Alastor repeated, his voice devoid of any emotions.

Lucifer retrieved his hand, but the desire to die didn’t leave with it.

“Good boy! Now, kill her. Make it quick.”

Alastor turned to the overlord, who was now standing and watching their drama unfold. Before she could brace herself for combat, he pierced her heart. He didn’t feel anything about it.

Lucifer snapped his fingers again. She disappeared, the bed was repaired, and someone else was laying on it. A sinner that looked like a cactus, wearing a cowboy attire. Presumably, a man.

His owner moved towards the bed, but didn’t climb on it. Instead, he sat down on a chair he made appear. Alastor stalked to the bed.

“He’s an overlord too,” Lucifer told him. “He goes by Prick.”

He laughed, amused by the name. Alastor assumed it had to do with the stings on his body, not his personality.

“He owns souls, and he loves to fuck a lot of women, but he doesn’t care so much about their consent.”

Lucifer was one to talk. The overlord tried to protest, but he was gagged. For all Alastor knew, Lucifer was lying to his face, but it didn’t matter. This would happen no matter what.

Kneeling on the bed, Alastor wondered, “Is he a bad father?”

“Fuck, you’re picky,” Lucifer groaned. “I don’t fucking know, but he fucked a lot of women on Earth too, I’m sure he has bastards children he knows nothing about. Does that count?”

While it wasn’t optimal, he supposed that it indeed counted.

Using his nails, Alastor tore open his shirt and dug into his skin. His blood lust took over for him and he dove in, biting off his flesh and eating it. As he devoured him, his core burned with desire.

Pulling back, he looked at the passed out face of the overlord, then glanced at Lucifer. He had a look of satisfaction on his face.

“Go on,” he intimated him. “Rape him.”

Alastor looked down. Lucifer noticed before him that he became hard.

He turned his attention back to the body. Prick wasn’t permanently dead, but he had lost consciousness. It tempered the heat in his lower abdomen, but not enough to make his dick go down.

Resigning himself, Alastor opened his fly and pushed his dick in the man’s opened stomach. He groaned in ecstasy and lost himself to the sin of the flesh.

It was only after he came that he realized how much he proved Lucifer right. Alastor never would have chosen to fuck Prick, but he couldn’t deny he took pleasure in it.

He loved raping people, as long as they were his favorite kind of victims: abusive men in power, preferably bad fathers.

Lucifer wasn’t his exception. He was the perfect example.

Pulling back, Alastor fell to the floor and threw up.