Another gift offered in hesitant sincerity. The taste of his blood in Lucifer's mouth had Alastor sighing pleasantly into the kiss, a hand running up Lucifer's back and another pausing to rest at his side. Where just a little weight was building up... where he was rounding out healthily, and carrying their child. Their Creation.
None of this was anything he regretted. He knew what he was doing, and it was worth it.
It was nice to have... a home, a family. Something he never dared to think he might deserve.
He swept the hand at the shoulder up along the neck as there was a soft golden glow. His fingers traced the marks, stained the black of the curse over his skin, and gathered that blood as he eased them closed again.
Lucifer wasn't the best at keeping himself still as he felt a touch to his side, wondering if he'd be 'attacked' again, yet feeling his own goosebumps rise from a softer, meticulous touch. He always helplessly, maybe foolishly stilled with a touch his way. Even with their current situation, his delicate condition, he still bore that fear that one day it'd simply stop and he'd go back to where he was before. Not out of anything of Alastor's doing, or of anyone else's in his life, but... him.
He kissed him once more, brief but no less sincere.
Paused.
His eyes fluttered open, and he looked down into the water.
"Ooh, I... I made the water too, ah..." He was fine. He could bathe in liquid magma if he wished. But, er... oh boy.
Hah. Alastor didn't mind Lucifer falling out of the predatory instinct - moments could be brief and charming and just feed into pleasing his king later, when the urge arose again.
He did have to chuckle a bit at the sudden awareness of the almost boiling water.
"It is a bit pleasantly dizzying, but typically, this isn't very safe for those in your condition," Alastor hummed with a barely restrained little bit of smugness. He got Lucifer riled up in the first place, after all.
Maybe later, Al- you were looking a bit... troubled, there.
With a knuckle, he mopped the blood on his chin with a chuckle. "...Until you pass out from combined heat and blood loss and drown, anyway. Tsk tsk tsk."
But he had a smug grin as he settled in, and conjured a decanter of ice water for his poor husband. "Well. Superheating water is new for me. Congratulations, my deer."
He'll take that decanter, thank you, he needed some ice in the gut to kick himself back into being cogent.
"Undressing strategically was new for me, as well - point for point for both of us, I suppose," Alastor mused between icy cold sips, pointedly dodging calling it stripping. "Were your charming little squeals new, too?"
"Oh, you missed it? Perhaps I'll have to replay the whole affair as a reminder!" Alastor teased, drumming his fingers on Lucifer's side. Not tickling, not yet...
"I hallucinate many things! But this... this is real. And I absolutely will side with our little one when you inevitably tickle them and have them backed in a corner."
Devious. A devious little chuckle.
"I'll give them the mischievous little bit of courage to fight back in a tickle fight."
"Only once you pull the trigger, my deer~" Alastor said dramatically, trying to ignore the pleasant touch on his ear. Trying to ignore how soft in general Lucifer made him.
Nngg-- playing dirty again, he won't let you pull a response that easily!
"Yes, yes, ancient instincts... but how many of your years did you actually spend hunting, hmm? I've got the act of stalking and tracking down to an art."
"Oh. Ohhohoho. Okay, so-" He squirmed a little to get comfy on that lap.
"Cherubs. Little candy-colored jerks, right? Sometimes they like to try and slip in unnoticed, figure they can get some brownie points with the bigwigs in Heaven by doing little acts of kindness. 'Lucifer, you beautiful, delectable snack- I haven't seen cherubs in Hell in decades,' you say! Weeeell..."
He grinned. "They have a particular scent to them, and they leave a signature in the air. They were easy to spot. So I watched them, tried to see if I knew them once, recognized them... complete strangers, but no less ripe for my game."
He slowly spidered his fingers up Alastor's upper arms. "They tried their very best, my love... they did little acts here, tried to perk others there. But they found it so hard to work some days: Their precious rations from Heaven started to dwindle, and they were so terrified of the food here, fearing it was cursed. The shadows began to lengthen. The insects, the vermin were so quiet around them most nights, leaving them to their thoughts. Their cheery demeanor began to dwindle as they realized their work wasn't bearing the fruit they wished. They could always leave, but they knew that was cowardice. Their own stubborn pride and self-righteousness would prevail, they thought..."
Claws then ran firmly down the arms, running warm trails without breaking skin. He took pleasure in telling the tale. "...They then began to fight amongst themselves. 'Whose idea was this?' 'It's your fault', 'no, it's YOUR fault'. It didn't help that I was leaving them fruit. Shiny, shiny, delicious-looking fruit. They were so hungry... oh, but they shouldn't take such things without knowing who gave it to them. One gave in, ate an apple."
He snickered. "The other three were so horrified, worried that their friend had been cursed, so they put him out of his misery all while begging for forgiveness... ahh, the sounds of the squabbling, their great plan falling apart bit by bit..."
"Devilish indeed...!" Alastor concurred, chuckling - his fur rippled with a wave of goosebumps as he felt those fingers wander and tease at him during that story. The image of such heavenly little sprites falling to in-fighting, to chaos, all from their paranoia and just the mere suggestion of suspicion.
A different kind of game... a different kind of hunt. But no less thrilling.
"Did the little creatures start tearing each other apart? Enact a righteous exorcism on their supposedly cursed little friend? Or perhaps you took the moment to pounce... like a lion in the grass, stalking his prey."
"Watching them make a big deal out of exorcising their little friend was way too funny to interrupt. They made a big ritual out of it, maybe to make sure the soul is found once more in Heaven. I sure didn't find a little fallen cherub down here after, so there's no telling where the little jerk went! Anyway, they had a leader among them, or at least one cherub that seemed to talk more than the rest. So when they settled down to rest at night, I decided to act as a spirit of justice. I had him questioning his holy crusade..."
He flourished his fingers. "How much more good would he do if he simply... cut away the chaff? They talk about about you when you're not around, they want to go home and leave you behind. You know, that sort of thing. And their paranoia, their hunger led to plenty of in-fighting, which led to their little leader making harsher calls, start to make demands. Oh, how they hated each other in the end, and worked to make sure something or someone would get the upper hand in their tiny, insignificant crusade.
"But then curiosity struck me: Can the local flora handle holy flesh? During a mission I'd curated that led them to some Goetia prince's garden, some door to door nonsense, all it took was a little... push. Turns out, Hell's carnivorous plants not only enjoy the flesh of heavenborn, but developed new flowers, even gained a newfound eldritch vigor! That's two down. Just the leader left."
He sighed! "I didn't want the game to end! I knew that, with this guy gone, that was that for the crusade, but I couldn't just let him go, now could I? What do I do? Do I assume the form of a serpent and eat him like a suckling pig? Nooo no no. I didn't want to deal with that. No, instead I decided to reward him for his crusade by letting him bear witness to his beloved spirit of justice, so that we may embrace and his passage back to Heaven would be to greater heights, to prestige among his kin. So I... approached after god-knows-how-long- I didn't keep track- and congratulated him on his crusade. The angered scream he gave, Alastor... oh...!"
He had to cackle. "He knew he had no shot! He wanted me to just kill him already, after all the playing I'd done, but I sat him down and put a cherry on top of the sundae with Temptation: With a little magic and some very strong points made- I remember mentioning that maybe if he goes where he thinks his friends are, he can ask them for forgiveness- I didn't need to lift a finger. Well- I lifted a hand only to offer him the knife.
New flowers, new ways to torment, beautiful, just beautiful! Having heavenly creatures turning on each other, a little pastel cherub taking the knife to their own throats, what an art.
Alastor was laughing and cackling like he'd heard the funniest joke in the world. Hell, he loved this man, this madman, what a perfect and creative monster he was. It just made Alastor want to bring him along to ruin an Overlord's life.
Finally, his laughter settled down. With that, Alastor trailed his fingers up Lucifer's side, feather-light.
"When I was a mortal man..."
He started the story there. Back when he didn't have any power, no magic, no nothing - back when he had to rely only on his hands and whatever ingenuity he could plan.
"...I think my favorite prey was this one particular man. I'd been hunting for a little bit of time - cut my teeth on a few miscreants, brutes, cruel fiends. This one, though... see, this brute was setting himself up in my territory. The axeman of New Orleans, they called him! At his behest, even - he'd sent a letter out. They have never caught me and they never will. They have never seen me, for I am invisible, even as the ether that surrounds your earth. I am not a human being, but a spirit and a demon from the hottest hell. I am what you Orleanians and your foolish police call the Axeman."
Lucifer wasn't going to hold back, laughing along with him. Sometimes you just needed to have a giggle with the one you loved, even if it was at the expense of small, relatively harmless creatures that were gaslit until they met their awful demise.
But after taking a breath, wiping a tear from his eye, and trying not to be too squirmy from the touch, he was content to just sit in his husband's lap and soak until he was pruney. But Alastor had a tale, and Lucifer huddled against him, head nestled against his shoulder.
Any story of Alastor's life on earth was fascinating. It was a slice of such a different time, formative in the United States, and breathed so much life into the 'why' of him.
But he was setting the scene, this tale of the 'Axeman', and Lucifer was entranced. God he loved his stories...
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sugaronthecream) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
divinetree2024-04-01 08:17 am
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None of this was anything he regretted. He knew what he was doing, and it was worth it.
It was nice to have... a home, a family. Something he never dared to think he might deserve.
no subject
Lucifer wasn't the best at keeping himself still as he felt a touch to his side, wondering if he'd be 'attacked' again, yet feeling his own goosebumps rise from a softer, meticulous touch. He always helplessly, maybe foolishly stilled with a touch his way. Even with their current situation, his delicate condition, he still bore that fear that one day it'd simply stop and he'd go back to where he was before. Not out of anything of Alastor's doing, or of anyone else's in his life, but... him.
He kissed him once more, brief but no less sincere.
Paused.
His eyes fluttered open, and he looked down into the water.
"Ooh, I... I made the water too, ah..." He was fine. He could bathe in liquid magma if he wished. But, er... oh boy.
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He did have to chuckle a bit at the sudden awareness of the almost boiling water.
"It is a bit pleasantly dizzying, but typically, this isn't very safe for those in your condition," Alastor hummed with a barely restrained little bit of smugness. He got Lucifer riled up in the first place, after all.
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With a knuckle, he mopped the blood on his chin with a chuckle. "...Until you pass out from combined heat and blood loss and drown, anyway. Tsk tsk tsk."
But he had a smug grin as he settled in, and conjured a decanter of ice water for his poor husband. "Well. Superheating water is new for me. Congratulations, my deer."
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"Undressing strategically was new for me, as well - point for point for both of us, I suppose," Alastor mused between icy cold sips, pointedly dodging calling it stripping. "Were your charming little squeals new, too?"
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That faltered about the squealing and he quickly turned his head to look for his duck and bobble it.
"No idea what you're on about! I don't squeal."
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"It was quite cute."
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"I'm adorable in many ways, my love, but I assure you that any squeal is purely in your imagination."
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Devious. A devious little chuckle.
"I'll give them the mischievous little bit of courage to fight back in a tickle fight."
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He eased against him, arms draped over his shoulders. One finger toyed with the black tip of an ear. "Then it's war, is it...?"
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"A trigger can be pulled any time, and with no warning. And before you know it..." He let that hang with a gentle tweak.
"I've lived a long time, Alastor. This isn't my first time lying in wait for an opportunity. So this'll be fun."
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"Yes, yes, ancient instincts... but how many of your years did you actually spend hunting, hmm? I've got the act of stalking and tracking down to an art."
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The smallest kiss on the nose.
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"Cherubs. Little candy-colored jerks, right? Sometimes they like to try and slip in unnoticed, figure they can get some brownie points with the bigwigs in Heaven by doing little acts of kindness. 'Lucifer, you beautiful, delectable snack- I haven't seen cherubs in Hell in decades,' you say! Weeeell..."
He grinned. "They have a particular scent to them, and they leave a signature in the air. They were easy to spot. So I watched them, tried to see if I knew them once, recognized them... complete strangers, but no less ripe for my game."
He slowly spidered his fingers up Alastor's upper arms. "They tried their very best, my love... they did little acts here, tried to perk others there. But they found it so hard to work some days: Their precious rations from Heaven started to dwindle, and they were so terrified of the food here, fearing it was cursed. The shadows began to lengthen. The insects, the vermin were so quiet around them most nights, leaving them to their thoughts. Their cheery demeanor began to dwindle as they realized their work wasn't bearing the fruit they wished. They could always leave, but they knew that was cowardice. Their own stubborn pride and self-righteousness would prevail, they thought..."
Claws then ran firmly down the arms, running warm trails without breaking skin. He took pleasure in telling the tale. "...They then began to fight amongst themselves. 'Whose idea was this?' 'It's your fault', 'no, it's YOUR fault'. It didn't help that I was leaving them fruit. Shiny, shiny, delicious-looking fruit. They were so hungry... oh, but they shouldn't take such things without knowing who gave it to them. One gave in, ate an apple."
He snickered. "The other three were so horrified, worried that their friend had been cursed, so they put him out of his misery all while begging for forgiveness... ahh, the sounds of the squabbling, their great plan falling apart bit by bit..."
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A different kind of game... a different kind of hunt. But no less thrilling.
"Did the little creatures start tearing each other apart? Enact a righteous exorcism on their supposedly cursed little friend? Or perhaps you took the moment to pounce... like a lion in the grass, stalking his prey."
no subject
He flourished his fingers. "How much more good would he do if he simply... cut away the chaff? They talk about about you when you're not around, they want to go home and leave you behind. You know, that sort of thing. And their paranoia, their hunger led to plenty of in-fighting, which led to their little leader making harsher calls, start to make demands. Oh, how they hated each other in the end, and worked to make sure something or someone would get the upper hand in their tiny, insignificant crusade.
"But then curiosity struck me: Can the local flora handle holy flesh? During a mission I'd curated that led them to some Goetia prince's garden, some door to door nonsense, all it took was a little... push. Turns out, Hell's carnivorous plants not only enjoy the flesh of heavenborn, but developed new flowers, even gained a newfound eldritch vigor! That's two down. Just the leader left."
He sighed! "I didn't want the game to end! I knew that, with this guy gone, that was that for the crusade, but I couldn't just let him go, now could I? What do I do? Do I assume the form of a serpent and eat him like a suckling pig? Nooo no no. I didn't want to deal with that. No, instead I decided to reward him for his crusade by letting him bear witness to his beloved spirit of justice, so that we may embrace and his passage back to Heaven would be to greater heights, to prestige among his kin. So I... approached after god-knows-how-long- I didn't keep track- and congratulated him on his crusade. The angered scream he gave, Alastor... oh...!"
He had to cackle. "He knew he had no shot! He wanted me to just kill him already, after all the playing I'd done, but I sat him down and put a cherry on top of the sundae with Temptation: With a little magic and some very strong points made- I remember mentioning that maybe if he goes where he thinks his friends are, he can ask them for forgiveness- I didn't need to lift a finger. Well- I lifted a hand only to offer him the knife.
"He took care of the rest."
1/2
Alastor was laughing and cackling like he'd heard the funniest joke in the world. Hell, he loved this man, this madman, what a perfect and creative monster he was. It just made Alastor want to bring him along to ruin an Overlord's life.
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"When I was a mortal man..."
He started the story there. Back when he didn't have any power, no magic, no nothing - back when he had to rely only on his hands and whatever ingenuity he could plan.
"...I think my favorite prey was this one particular man. I'd been hunting for a little bit of time - cut my teeth on a few miscreants, brutes, cruel fiends. This one, though... see, this brute was setting himself up in my territory. The axeman of New Orleans, they called him! At his behest, even - he'd sent a letter out. They have never caught me and they never will. They have never seen me, for I am invisible, even as the ether that surrounds your earth. I am not a human being, but a spirit and a demon from the hottest hell. I am what you Orleanians and your foolish police call the Axeman."
no subject
But after taking a breath, wiping a tear from his eye, and trying not to be too squirmy from the touch, he was content to just sit in his husband's lap and soak until he was pruney. But Alastor had a tale, and Lucifer huddled against him, head nestled against his shoulder.
Any story of Alastor's life on earth was fascinating. It was a slice of such a different time, formative in the United States, and breathed so much life into the 'why' of him.
But he was setting the scene, this tale of the 'Axeman', and Lucifer was entranced. God he loved his stories...
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