"Wee-!?" He paused, eyebrows knit. Oh, fuck. Fuck, he should have made more notes.
What if Charlie thought he left entirely? What if she thought he'd gone back to his workshop and given up, and- and- and-
Ow. Ow, ow, fucking ow. Nope. He was too damn sore both inside and out to even start spiraling today. He rubbed his smarting lower back, but started with an owlish blink when magic melted the world around them and a-ZIP they went, to-
"Oh. Huh." He'd never seen this room before. Curious enough to want a better peek, Lucifer forced himself up onto his hooves. He wobbled, but frantically called upon his cane to lean. He snatched a towel from nowhere onto his waist for modesty.
He tried milling around, anything to get the blood flowing, do something to encourage life back into his body again. Fuck's sake... even Lilith's strap-ons didn't give him a run for his money this badly. But then again, they rarely had... marathons.
Alastor snorted a bit - for every bit of soreness and pain he felt, Lucifer had been on the brunt end of it all.
"Though I am not surprised that you survived such an embarrassing and prolonged event, my deer, it would behoove you to let me take the reins until your body gets the rest it's been denied this whole time," he joked a bit.
The way he moved definitely failed to belie his age. When he pressed a hand to the small of his back and gave it a good pop, the grunt was definitely one of a guy who'd been through the wringer.
"Eh, well-! I just haven't had a... rrrodeo... in a while." He ended the observation with a little chuckle.
He paused, stared. He did note even before everything that he found the while thing embarrassing. He added quietly: "...It's all fine, Cher."
Buuuut after a beat, he polished his claws off on his chest. "Your concern for me is rather touching, however. You big softie."
"I commend you for keeping at it for so long!" He chuckled. He knew that Lucifer had every capability of restraining the demon if he wanted.
With the water running hotter, Alastor plugged it with an old fashioned rubber plug before pulling hand towels to dampen under the tap and apply soap. "Nearly need to hose ourselves off before bothering to climb in the tub. Ugh, I look like a mess," Alastor fussed, starting to wipe away dirt off of himself and pry it from between his hooves in an overly fussy manner.
Oh hoh. Alastor's smirk widened, and with deft hands, he twirled the damp towel into a brutal wet weapon coiled back and just waiting to strike. "If that's the sort of game you want, darling, you go right ahead with the hose!"
Lucifer squared his stance, eyes hard. One could swear a tumbleweed blew by in the anticipation. Where was Striker's mariachi entourage when you needed them?
"Oh? You think you're fast enough for that? I saw the way you moved to the tub. If you feel like standing down, lowering that towel real slowly..."
"You gave me many spirited chases, sha, but you're at your limit. There's nowhere to run. I see your knees still rattling to keep you on your feet," Alastor slowly drew his arms back, preparing to strike, waiting only for the twitch of Lucifer's hand as a signal.
"They tremble with the anticipation of taking you down," he replied coolly. He slowly drummed his claws against the head of the hose. He watched the arms draw back.
"Last chance, Alastor. I'm not running. I dare say I'm curious about your aim. What'll you hit with that, hhhhhorse-"
Hah! With a chuckle, Alastor released the towel and dropped it on the side of the bath.
"No wonder, deer man, you've been folded and twisted more than a pretzel and gone sprinting every morning for weeks! Hah hah!"
Alastor wasn't steady enough on his own feet to scoop up Lucifer, but the shadowy tentacle he'd snuck behind Lucifer during that standoff was perfectly able to wrap around and lift the devil before he fell on his face.
"Now come here, let's see about combing out ruffled feathers, hmm?" he proposed, as if it wasn't the tentacle moving him closer.
The soreness in his body was nothing compared to the intense cramp in that thigh. He stretched that hoof at a 90-degree angle, held it as best as he could and hoped the damn thing would settle down. The little kick of protest with his other leg was half-hearted as the tentacle seized him, carried him along.
"Sssshit, I haven't had one of these in a few decades..." Wings. Right. Wings...
Thankfully the very angry horse seemed to stop kicking, slowly but surely. It was enough to have him gradually open his wings. They had most of the mud shaken off of them, but were instead dappled with bits of the water- scum, bits of duckweed and all- from the bayou. So desperate was he to get the mud off that he opted for the... not-very-smart alternative.
That, at least, was much easier to rinse out. Summoning two comfortable stools, Alastor sat behind Lucifer and used the washcloth to wipe away the pond scum and any mud tucked and hidden away. Only a few loose puffs came out, joining the rest of what was wiped off on the floor.
"Oh, yes, these new feathers came in much stronger. They held up very nicely from all the hubbub," he praised, knowing a little ego stroking would help his fiesty king relax and not be so stubborn. And... privately, to himself, he knew he felt grateful for Lucifer's company and help during that miserable time of year, this time.
In between wiping the feathers down, Alastor gently rubbed and massaged along them and up and down Lucifer's back where the joints met, helping loosen aching muscles. So much work done, such a lovely job done, Lucifer earned every bit of pampering!
Once the kink worked out in his leg, he was able to relax. After having a seat, he was proud to have worked away from the instinct to move his wings away from a foreign touch.
The wings of an angel, while a point of pride, were also tremendously sensitive. Strokes against where the pins met the skin, smoothing flights and down back into place amounted to a very lovely massage. While Lucifer held them as still as he could, he couldn't stop the occasional minute tremor. Thankfully, the natural oils in the feathers made scum and dirt slide right off. There would be a few stains here and there, but it was nothing a little extra maintenance wouldn't work off to bring their white and red glory back.
"Well, I've been... eating better this year," he noted with a rub against the back of his neck. Whether that's simply 'eating better' or 'remembering to eat' in translation was almost nobody's guess. Even a fool could work it out.
The king did offer a mingled sigh and purr with touches down his back, as tight as it was from working muscle he didn't know he had before. But he jumped with a touch to the lower back.
"Ah- Y-yeah, that's- lowest bit's the worst bit," he hissed, took a breath.
"...I can't grow into a spooky wendigo like you can," he added with a slightly strained chuckle.
"Yes, well, I'm afraid that your shapeshifting doesn't seem to take away your charming white-and-pink palette, which is much harder to strike fear instead of instill charm," Alastor chuckled, paying a bit extra attention to soreness in the lower wings and spine.
"You'll have to settle for embracing how delightfully wretched your hellfire-fueled rage makes you. Only a madman would find that anything but terrifying," Alastor teased, a little jab at himself. "Fire and fury and wings. Ahh, and those ever-piercing eyes."
He swaggled his head with talk of charm, and preened his own chin.
"The stories got one thing right: I am the Creator's most beautiful angel. I like to think the others were sick with envy! Why, it's no wonder my days were numbered way back when." But he paused, stuck his tongue between his lips for focus as he angled himself. That spot right there... whatever he's doing, keep it right there. By golly, that's good-
"It likely helps that spices have many properties good for the health and the skin. So I do my best to survive some of those fiery dishes." His spice tolerance was improving. He'd be a while before he reached Charlie's level, though.
Charlie.
CHARLIE!
"-Oh! We should, ah, let people know we're not dead, maybe."
"Oh, do tell how. I'm sure she's ever so curious why her father's run off in secret with her hotelier for weeks on end so soon after months of flirting publicly with him," Alastor teased with a chuckle. That's all to say, not to worry, she probably doesn't think you've abandoned her. Just that she might think something far more funny.
"H-heheh... oops. Maybe I'll write a real formal letter of apology for running off with her hotelier." Pardon the marigold in the face and neck. A wild imagination like hers, there's no telling what she'd think of everything.
On top of that, it'd be a little hard to hide anything after a few weeks, if...
Lucifer sat up straighter, pulled himself together, and leaned back against Alastor. "But right now, this hotelier is all mine."
Alastor certainly didn't mind, embracing the smaller King against him fondly. "That's right. And I've got you hooked for sure, now, haven't I?"
After wringing out the towel and re-dampening it, Alastor gently wiped down Lucifer's front, washing the pale chest and dark arms. Like a charming doll, looking fragile, when in reality he was the strongest man in Hell.
His hand paused as he wiped over the naval. If things really took root, then... well. A lot would be stacked in Alastor's favor, many of his plans would fall in place, and he could start pulling strings--
It was... nice just being held like this. It'd been a long while. Even over his lengthy lifetime, it never failed to make him feel brand new. He lived in opulence, but this made him feel cozy. He was the most powerful being down here, but this made him feel safe.
Like he deserved it, even after all that he'd done.
Alastor's hand paused and he tipped his head to look up. His fingers rest upon his wrist, not to grab or even pull away, but to settle. They wouldn't know for sure for a little while, but... Hell, how could it not, when they'd been fooling around for weeks?
"Hah. Hook, line and sinker."
A beat. He smiled, and patted the wrist. "Your turn...?"
"Just a moment longer," Alastor murmured, nuzzling his face into Lucifer's shoulder, enjoying his smell and the feel of him so close, that hand resting on top of his.
Oh, mother, your foolish son might be giving you a grandchild.
Once that strange, pleasantly painful ache in his chest softened again, mellowed like a harsh coffee mellowed with the addition of a bit of cream, Alastor let go and passed the towel to Lucifer. His own back is still a bit muddied, the spots hidden under clumps of grass and in slight matting. Alastor could easily twist his neck around and see what he was doing if need be, but he'll indulge, trusting Lucifer with his back instead.
It's the warm breath and his hair tickling his neck and shoulder that make him squirm and snicker a bit, but he braced a hand against Alastor's other cheek and held him for that wonderful extra moment nevertheless.
Once Alastor shifted, so too did he. Bambi's back was messy, and he wasn't surprised, what with how much they sort of trashed parts of the bayou during the chasing.
With towel in hand, Lucifer set to the task to keep from clogging the fella's poor drain system in the near-future. The grass was easy enough to get- a stick too, here and there- but some of this mud had dried and wasn't going down without a fight of a soak and some very gentle breaking up.
But he couldn't help giving little scratches after handling a dirtied spot. Mud was itchy. The way he ran his claws down the length of the Radio Demon's spine...?
"Hmmmmm..." Alastor hummed a pleasurable sigh at the scratching, more expressive than he ever used to be when he was still far more guarded. Here, hidden deep and away from prying eyes, Alastor let himself relax at the attention even as his skin tingled and stood on end from those skillful claws running down his back. Oh, how very pleasant it felt... it'd make the fight to comb out the mats later less hectic.
Happy, merry, Alastor's fluffy tail waggled even as he relaxed and slouched on the stool.
No. Later. He had a semi-melty deer, and he was going to enjoy this. Lucifer marveled at the texture and length of the rest of this secret fluff, and couldn't help the little concerned coo when he came across a snarlier mat. The most he could do for now was see if he couldn't make them smaller, divvy them up, see if he can't shoo some of it away as discomfort-free as possible.
He refreshed the towel once or twice without much of a word. He had in front of him a project, a challenge, and was encouraged by the pleasant hum. Tidied up spots were given a gentle trace, and each discovered knot was given a rub. Shoo now, naughty bunched muscle. You stop being trouble, now...
But what fascinated him were the scars. He'd tussled with his fair share of Sinners and Overlords. Lucifer couldn't help but run a finger over a few of them. ...Did he have stories for each of them...?
There was a whole bevvy of different scars... some were shallow and hidden under fur, only subtle differences in texture on the skin. Some were larger and had accompanying suture scarring, resembling the sutures he'd given himself for Adam's wound.
Some scars, though, were deeper and... different. Some spots looked like flesh had been torn off, some were clear outlines of bites, they were all the most vicious looking scars and not a single one had been sutured.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sugaronthecream) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
divinetree2024-04-01 08:17 am
no subject
What if Charlie thought he left entirely? What if she thought he'd gone back to his workshop and given up, and- and- and-
Ow. Ow, ow, fucking ow. Nope. He was too damn sore both inside and out to even start spiraling today. He rubbed his smarting lower back, but started with an owlish blink when magic melted the world around them and a-ZIP they went, to-
"Oh. Huh." He'd never seen this room before. Curious enough to want a better peek, Lucifer forced himself up onto his hooves. He wobbled, but frantically called upon his cane to lean. He snatched a towel from nowhere onto his waist for modesty.
He tried milling around, anything to get the blood flowing, do something to encourage life back into his body again. Fuck's sake... even Lilith's strap-ons didn't give him a run for his money this badly. But then again, they rarely had... marathons.
no subject
"Though I am not surprised that you survived such an embarrassing and prolonged event, my deer, it would behoove you to let me take the reins until your body gets the rest it's been denied this whole time," he joked a bit.
no subject
"Eh, well-! I just haven't had a... rrrodeo... in a while." He ended the observation with a little chuckle.
He paused, stared. He did note even before everything that he found the while thing embarrassing. He added quietly: "...It's all fine, Cher."
Buuuut after a beat, he polished his claws off on his chest. "Your concern for me is rather touching, however. You big softie."
no subject
With the water running hotter, Alastor plugged it with an old fashioned rubber plug before pulling hand towels to dampen under the tap and apply soap. "Nearly need to hose ourselves off before bothering to climb in the tub. Ugh, I look like a mess," Alastor fussed, starting to wipe away dirt off of himself and pry it from between his hooves in an overly fussy manner.
Oh yeah, that was definitely the normal Alastor.
no subject
He shifted his arms and a lime green hose line manifested, leading off into nowhere. Lucifer was grasping the end, however.
"If it's a hose-down you need..."
no subject
no subject
Lucifer squared his stance, eyes hard. One could swear a tumbleweed blew by in the anticipation.
Where was Striker's mariachi entourage when you needed them?"Oh? You think you're fast enough for that? I saw the way you moved to the tub. If you feel like standing down, lowering that towel real slowly..."
no subject
1/2
"Last chance, Alastor. I'm not running. I dare say I'm curious about your aim. What'll you hit with that, hhhhhorse-"
Oh. Oh no.
2/2
Not NOW, right thigh!
no subject
"No wonder, deer man, you've been folded and twisted more than a pretzel and gone sprinting every morning for weeks! Hah hah!"
Alastor wasn't steady enough on his own feet to scoop up Lucifer, but the shadowy tentacle he'd snuck behind Lucifer during that standoff was perfectly able to wrap around and lift the devil before he fell on his face.
"Now come here, let's see about combing out ruffled feathers, hmm?" he proposed, as if it wasn't the tentacle moving him closer.
no subject
"Sssshit, I haven't had one of these in a few decades..." Wings. Right. Wings...
Thankfully the very angry horse seemed to stop kicking, slowly but surely. It was enough to have him gradually open his wings. They had most of the mud shaken off of them, but were instead dappled with bits of the water- scum, bits of duckweed and all- from the bayou. So desperate was he to get the mud off that he opted for the... not-very-smart alternative.
no subject
"Oh, yes, these new feathers came in much stronger. They held up very nicely from all the hubbub," he praised, knowing a little ego stroking would help his fiesty king relax and not be so stubborn. And... privately, to himself, he knew he felt grateful for Lucifer's company and help during that miserable time of year, this time.
In between wiping the feathers down, Alastor gently rubbed and massaged along them and up and down Lucifer's back where the joints met, helping loosen aching muscles. So much work done, such a lovely job done, Lucifer earned every bit of pampering!
no subject
The wings of an angel, while a point of pride, were also tremendously sensitive. Strokes against where the pins met the skin, smoothing flights and down back into place amounted to a very lovely massage. While Lucifer held them as still as he could, he couldn't stop the occasional minute tremor. Thankfully, the natural oils in the feathers made scum and dirt slide right off. There would be a few stains here and there, but it was nothing a little extra maintenance wouldn't work off to bring their white and red glory back.
"Well, I've been... eating better this year," he noted with a rub against the back of his neck. Whether that's simply 'eating better' or 'remembering to eat' in translation was almost nobody's guess. Even a fool could work it out.
The king did offer a mingled sigh and purr with touches down his back, as tight as it was from working muscle he didn't know he had before. But he jumped with a touch to the lower back.
"Ah- Y-yeah, that's- lowest bit's the worst bit," he hissed, took a breath.
"...I can't grow into a spooky wendigo like you can," he added with a slightly strained chuckle.
no subject
"You'll have to settle for embracing how delightfully wretched your hellfire-fueled rage makes you. Only a madman would find that anything but terrifying," Alastor teased, a little jab at himself. "Fire and fury and wings. Ahh, and those ever-piercing eyes."
no subject
"The stories got one thing right: I am the Creator's most beautiful angel. I like to think the others were sick with envy! Why, it's no wonder my days were numbered way back when." But he paused, stuck his tongue between his lips for focus as he angled himself. That spot right there... whatever he's doing, keep it right there. By golly, that's good-
"It likely helps that spices have many properties good for the health and the skin. So I do my best to survive some of those fiery dishes." His spice tolerance was improving. He'd be a while before he reached Charlie's level, though.
Charlie.
CHARLIE!
"-Oh! We should, ah, let people know we're not dead, maybe."
no subject
no subject
"H-heheh... oops. Maybe I'll write a real formal letter of apology for running off with her hotelier." Pardon the marigold in the face and neck. A wild imagination like hers, there's no telling what she'd think of everything.
On top of that, it'd be a little hard to hide anything after a few weeks, if...
Lucifer sat up straighter, pulled himself together, and leaned back against Alastor. "But right now, this hotelier is all mine."
no subject
After wringing out the towel and re-dampening it, Alastor gently wiped down Lucifer's front, washing the pale chest and dark arms. Like a charming doll, looking fragile, when in reality he was the strongest man in Hell.
His hand paused as he wiped over the naval. If things really took root, then... well. A lot would be stacked in Alastor's favor, many of his plans would fall in place, and he could start pulling strings--
But more than any of that...
no subject
Like he deserved it, even after all that he'd done.
Alastor's hand paused and he tipped his head to look up. His fingers rest upon his wrist, not to grab or even pull away, but to settle. They wouldn't know for sure for a little while, but... Hell, how could it not, when they'd been fooling around for weeks?
"Hah. Hook, line and sinker."
A beat. He smiled, and patted the wrist. "Your turn...?"
no subject
Oh, mother, your foolish son might be giving you a grandchild.
Once that strange, pleasantly painful ache in his chest softened again, mellowed like a harsh coffee mellowed with the addition of a bit of cream, Alastor let go and passed the towel to Lucifer. His own back is still a bit muddied, the spots hidden under clumps of grass and in slight matting. Alastor could easily twist his neck around and see what he was doing if need be, but he'll indulge, trusting Lucifer with his back instead.
no subject
Once Alastor shifted, so too did he. Bambi's back was messy, and he wasn't surprised, what with how much they sort of trashed parts of the bayou during the chasing.
With towel in hand, Lucifer set to the task to keep from clogging the fella's poor drain system in the near-future. The grass was easy enough to get- a stick too, here and there- but some of this mud had dried and wasn't going down without a fight of a soak and some very gentle breaking up.
But he couldn't help giving little scratches after handling a dirtied spot. Mud was itchy. The way he ran his claws down the length of the Radio Demon's spine...?
No real reason for that. That was just for him.
no subject
Happy, merry, Alastor's fluffy tail waggled even as he relaxed and slouched on the stool.
no subject
No. Later. He had a semi-melty deer, and he was going to enjoy this. Lucifer marveled at the texture and length of the rest of this secret fluff, and couldn't help the little concerned coo when he came across a snarlier mat. The most he could do for now was see if he couldn't make them smaller, divvy them up, see if he can't shoo some of it away as discomfort-free as possible.
He refreshed the towel once or twice without much of a word. He had in front of him a project, a challenge, and was encouraged by the pleasant hum. Tidied up spots were given a gentle trace, and each discovered knot was given a rub. Shoo now, naughty bunched muscle. You stop being trouble, now...
But what fascinated him were the scars. He'd tussled with his fair share of Sinners and Overlords. Lucifer couldn't help but run a finger over a few of them. ...Did he have stories for each of them...?
no subject
Some scars, though, were deeper and... different. Some spots looked like flesh had been torn off, some were clear outlines of bites, they were all the most vicious looking scars and not a single one had been sutured.
"Getting curious, are we?"
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
1/2
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)