divinetree | Mom says it's my turn with the Alastor

A brow twitched, and he turned with a snarl. The more Alastor spoke, the more he bared his teeth. This motherfucker...

Lucifer reached for and snatched the wrist that bore the salve-wielding hand. Held it. Pride had been torn open, wept like a wound, and this man was licking away at it.

Foolish. ...Admirable. Many mocked him, but very few actually outright challenged him.

"...You sure like to talk, don't you? But I suppose if you didn't, you wouldn't be a very good 'Radio Demon'..." Eyes had begun to open on his wings, all dialed in and focused on the very chatty Sinner to which he had a firm grip.

He drew a claw across the other man's cheek, ended beneath the chin. "Are these the contents of your final broadcast, an insult upon your King...? Shame, shame, shame... I prefer the music~"

Every angle of Alastor sharpened as he started to glow, the static crackling around them noisily as veves floated around the darkness Alastor cast.

"You don't frighten me, Lucifer," the Radio Demon's voice crackled, his teeth interlocked like a radio face as his voice projected from him without his jaw moving, "Do you truly see yourself so above other madmen? The embodiment of Pride indeed."

His heart was hammering, instincts beckoning him to either lash out or flee - and he did neither, fighting the adrenaline warning him and riding the high of it instead. Lucifer could completely obliterate him. And should. Yet there wasn't an ounce of him that could tear his eyes away from Lucifer's furious gaze in this moment, it drew him in and stoked a fire deep in his bones.

He laughed openly, riotously. "I penned the god-damned BOOK on madness! Where the fuck else would I be!?"

Ooh, would you look at him now...? Alastor changed and the eyes widened, a mingling of intrigue and enthrallment, but lower lids tightened... amusement. Sooo much amusement.

This Sinner was a riot. So ballsy! In his prime, Lucifer had ended Sinners for far, far less.

"How funny. How quaint that you declare your distinct lack of fear... when I can hear your heart right now. It all but screams for you to run, Bambi... But you and I both know you can't. No... you won't. Pride, pride, pride. You drip with it."

He leaned, eased to one of those ears. "...I can taste it each time. And it tastes so. Fucking. Good."

Edited 2024-07-22 03:49 (UTC)

Don't let your eye get poked out by Alastor's antlers growing and branching out like weeds defying concrete, Lucifer. Alastor's free hand grabbed at Lucifer's thigh, claws sinking in and gripping as his heart raced.

With fear, yes, of course. But if it was just fear, he'd flee or fight. There was a sick excitement in Alastor at all of this, at the display of power from Lucifer, the pride and anger of the devil himself bearing down on him. It made him excited.

"Pride is what causes the fall of every mortal man. Hubris!"

Hah. He really was a broken man, when no amount of flirtations or attractive bodies made his body stir the way this threat did to him right now.

"If it tastes good, then take a bite."

"Sinner..." He hissed.

"You dare make demands of your King?"

His claws closed against Alastor's vest. The material groaned, fiber by fiber, under the pressure.

"What a fool you are..." His voice was a harsh whisper now, and it seemed five- six?- other keys of it joined in.

"I've been feasting from the very beginning... the blood of sacrifice- the sweetness of it, tinged with the desperate fear of so many lambs- and of the pride of countless humans cursed to the Pit. Dropped upon my fucking doorstep."

But with his other hand he took his time running a claw along an impressive antler. "But it is as you say... the gumbo needs more time. No, I don't think I'll be having my bite of you. Not tonight. Goad me all you like."

His wings grew, curled inward, cocooned them. All eyes opened wide, gleamed red, the pupils of them of them quivering with a hardly-suppressed glee.

"No, I will watch. I will wait. When desire takes me, or you all but beg for it... Then, I will have my bite."

Watched, perceived, from every possible angle... Be Not Afraid, angels would always declare in scripture, and with the endless span of eyes upon him Alastor realized the terror a mortal could feel with the scrutiny and judgment of Heaven swallowing them whole.

But this gaze, these eyes, belonged to the devil. Not Heaven. And Alastor's fear of judgment from Lucifer vanished only a few hours after he finished cooking the meat of his first kill. The power and presence threatening him could tear him apart. And if this anger was legitimate, he would.

Still. Something in Alastor's twisted mind felt like singing. Wanted the violence of those claws, wanted to be bitten and claimed and overpowered. He wanted to be the one to make Lucifer give in and bite.

Alastor let go of Lucifer's thigh and instead tugged loose his bowtie. In a calm voice, devoid of any of his usual static, the Radio Demon spoke in a slitheringly smooth tone, "All bark and no bite, Cher."

And yet, despite everything and in his attempt to- gently, he would conclude later- warn him that he absolutely was still king of the realm and demanded respect...

There was a single, solid prod right in the diaphragm of his Pride, one that licked past what had been an exceptionally terrible day that had ripped all good mood from him. Countless thousands of years every last comments, tabloid, remark and foul memory, all overflowed by five of six words that broke the surface tension.

The sound the fallen angel gave was nothing human. His sound was that of a beast as the lights in the room were snuffed out, yet battled and flickered to remain on, a momentary loss of complete control. Two sets of claws set in the torso of the shifting deer cryptid, while a spiny tail was like a vice around a calf.

That scream gave way to a light in the back of that maw that had opened impossibly wide, jaws that closed at a shoulder, past cotton, past velvet, past flesh.

Too soon.

He didn't beg.

Fuck you.

Pride
d e m a n d e d
it

The sound that tore from Alastor's throat was feral. Instinct won over just enough that he reflexively felt himself thin and stretch out, and he twisted his claws into Lucifer's shirt and shredded it. But he didn't bite back, he didn't give in there - a laugh slipped out of him instead and he bared his throat, taunting Lucifer even more.

This was visceral, this was painful and potent and he felt alive - blood spilled and soaked new clothes, Alastor himself was flustered and a mess, and he was almost deliriously dizzy and painfully aroused.

"Cher..." Alastor breathlessly laughed, his breath too occupied as he panted and almost keened. "Sick. Like. Me."

Always talking... always TALKING, like he didn't know exactly what he was getting himself into...!

He hadn't done anything like this in a long time. With a neck bared, taunting him, he withdrew bloodied teeth-

"SHUT. UP." His grip rounded, one claw clutched at his back as he set to Alastor's neck, let fresh blood pour between fangs. Like a constrictor finding its prey, everything tightened against him- an almost covetous embrace- as he let the blood run along his forked tongue.

Oh, the pain was sweet. If he were human he'd be dead, so very dead - the blood flooded his throat as it flowed, his body already hissing with magic to heal his shoulder. The laugh became a wet gurgle, but it echoed in the radio nearby, catching his broadcast.

He won. He won. And he'll keep winning, because he knows, he knows that the king is far too lonesome to kill him, even in a fit of rage. With that confidence, that amusement, that certainty, the serpent's bite filled his veins with a sweet poison that made his heart hammer. "Cher..." his voice echoed from the radio. What was he going to say? He doesn't remember. Every inch of him is on fire in such a pleasant way.

He was so lost in it, he hardly knew where he was any more. All he knew in this moment, smoldering from his core and outward, was to let this fallen man's blood run and taste the spice of that pride.

There was so much of it... perhaps he didn't need it to age, to build, but could you imagine...?

But he was growling, a low rumble as he shifted his grip, enough that claws would draw flesh blood of their own. He was all but rabid now, feeding and all but shuddering with the pleasure of deepest sin.

He was far from gluttony... but he understood Bee. This... this was like a hot honey.

Alastor clung onto the shredded shirt, feeling like he was perpetually falling. Draining, and cold... he hasn't felt like this in a while. The heat coiled in his belly burned until enough blood was drawn, faster than Alastor could heal himself.

If his throat was still intact, he might have sighed in pleasure. But he did need to get Lucifer out of this before he died and had to spend who knows how long regenerating and reviving.

With his index finger, Alastor's claw tapped at Lucifer's shoulder. And from the radio came Alastor's voice, with a single word, "Paillasse."

He could see why so many wild animals feasted like it was their last meal. There was a pleasure in it... and he understood perhaps a bit of what Alastor felt whenever he-

Lucifer hissed with the tap to the shoulder, a very reptilian affect. He was halfway through running his tongue over the weeping wound when he heard that word. What? ...What was-

It was like grabbing a line and being pulled from roiling, maddened boiling water. The King snapped away, short of breath, face flushed and blood dribbling from his chin. When he blinked, he seemed in a momentary daze. The word. He'd said the word. That meant stop.

You shouldn't have stopped.

Ugh, shut UP. Killing him would just be rude, even if he is an asshole.

"Huh? Wha-" Oh.

OH.

...Oh.

Alastor was a mess, and in every sense of the word. He'd be flushed if he weren't so pallid, his shirt and vest torn open at the shoulder and flesh slowly, barely knitting together even as he wept and bled all over the bed.

Lucifer was stunning like this... horns out, eyes fiery, and all of his pristine white skin and clothing absolutely stained by his filthy Sinner blood. Blood that the man indulged in with just as much rabid fervor as Alastor always was tempted to.

It all felt as good as the victory he just claimed.

"What... no kiss?" he croaked in amusement, smiling madly (albeit warmly).

...This man.

This man. RILED. On purpose. It's always on purpose. But he was having a low day, and- and- and he...!!

...Didn't... feel as low as before? Sure he'd had a hefty meal of pride, but this had to be the single, most ass-backwards way of getting him a breath of air and out of the funk for a bit.

Scowling, he folded his arms across his chest and eased in close, if only- surely- to narrow his eyes at him. His wings had receded to their normal size.

"You are a bastard. You know what you did. Perhaps I should bite your face instead." He snapped his teeth for good measure.

"I said what's true," Alastor smirked, gazing fondly at the furious king. He was still a bit lethargic as his body frantically tried to recover what it lost, but Alastor still teasingly rubbed a knee against Lucifer's side. "You took offense. As if I don't cherish your madness."

A soft, croaking laugh. "You look beautiful like this."

Edited 2024-07-23 04:12 (UTC)

It had been something that wasn't entirely admired before. It was his old rebellion, his determination to swing and protect what he dreamed of regardless of what others might have to say for it.

It was the spirit that, yes, cursed the world and set the roots of evil into Creation, but despite his fury, his smoldering fatigue over being undervalued over and over and over again, he was considered...

...

Lucifer could only control so much. So when his face took on a shade of marigold, there was nothing he could do for it despite the scowl deepening.

He reached back and seized the hair at the back of Alastor's head. "Hmph... You have a funny way of expressing how you cherish something."

Perhaps it was thanks for the compliment. Or, maybe, it was thanks for the meal. ...Or maybe it was just to shut him the fuck up that had him hold the Radio Demon steady as he abruptly shared a blood-tinged kiss.

Edited 2024-07-23 14:18 (UTC)

His own blood never tasted so good. Alastor looped his arms around Lucifer's shoulders, kissing clumsily as ever and eager to taste blood and feel the sharpness of Lucifer's teeth on his tongue. He felt like fainting... or swooning? This powerful man, the devil himself, was drawn to him and enjoyed him.

It filled Alastor with strange, foreign feelings again... though he was getting familiar with them. They always bubbled up around Lucifer these days. The devil was fiery hot and right now, Alastor was cold and craved the heat.

His claws were still sharp, his form still gangly, but he stayed as gentle as he could when running his claws up the back of the king's neck.

His own kiss was messy, hungry, almost like he was somehow seeking more of that red-hot Pride. Yet his tongue, slick and forked, stroked along the bottom of the other, made no effort to keep him from feeling those teeth.

...Especially not when he helped himself to a covetous graze against the Sinner's bottom lip.

Though so many of those seraphim's eyes narrowed, glowed with a hardly-suppressed anger, pride stroked the wrong way like fur brushed backward, there were a number that gazed with shameless dilated pupils, with a fascination and desire.

All eyes on him, and he was splayed out - and splayed open - for Lucifer to enjoy. The bloodletting had him delirious, hungrily kissing Lucifer back and holding onto him with the only arm that had any strength to it. Closer... give him all of your anger, all of your passion, all of your interest.

In the moment it felt perfectly normal to let himself be plucked and nibbled and stared at. It felt right. He always knew he was a sick, broken man - where's the fun in trying to deny it? His king's insanity perfectly slotted into his own.

So big and gangly... his size didn't matter. With wings like his that would settle and touch along Alastor's back, he could do all the shifting he wanted.

"...I'm still angry with you, though," he muttered, despite a pause to brush a crook of a hand against his own mouth, clean himself up but not leave anything to waste with his most subtle dab of the stained knuckle against his lips to clear it.

His eyes continued to burn like embers as he took hold of this large, ridiculous form and moved it aside, gave him a shove back onto the bed proper. He weighed like nothing. Or did he...?

The devil was on the move and straddled him, gripped his vest and shirt, and wrenched them open. They were very nice... very lovely on him, but... Hm. Sorry, he supposed.

A hand smoothed down his bared chest and stomach, but the other set tight against Alastor's unmarked shoulder.

"My mind runs with so many ideas of a punishment for you, little Sinner... why, I've got so many tools to call upon when needed, many that I haven't used in far too long. But I think I've got juuust the thing..."

Not-- not his chest...!

Alastor flinched, not at the loss of his new clothes but at the exposing of his torso. He didn't enjoy the sight of his body on the best of days, the fluffy and wiry fur animalistic and marred with a constellation of mutilating scars. But this wasn't the best of days, still - his chest was still bound, still stitched from the wound from Adam, and that was...

...humiliating.

The injury to his pride was potent - he'd been hiding that slowly healing wound for over a month now, nearly two months - getting caught with it was more distressing than the idea of Lucifer gutting him, or tearing him apart, or anything like that.

Fuck.

Some of the eyes flickered, focused on the binding. Their lids lowered, a sympathy- Adam sure had a way of making sure his slovenly ass was remembered- but aside from those peepers, Lucifer hadn't even seemed to focus on the bindings.

Instead, the burning gaze remained cool. He let his damaged wings beat and lift him off, landing on his boots upon the floor just off the foot of the bed.

"...I think the gumbo does need to simmer for a little longer. And I have phone calls to make." He dusted off his lapel. Playing it cool.

"Let today be a lesson."

Despite his lethargy, Alastor sat himself up, snapping his fingers to summon a replacement shirt. He shed his torn clothes and replaced them with the unshorn cloth, even if the cloth bloodied - what mattered is that the bleeding wounds weren't the wound left behind by Adam, but were the wounds that Alastor had instigated, ones that he was not at all ashamed of having.

"A lesson in what, exactly?" Alastor scoffed, rubbing at his neck where flesh still worked to knit together, "I know well my king's madness and pride. I'm not shaken, sha. Make your calls to reschedule our date."

Reschedule, not cancel.

Not... not cancelled completely...?

...

Lucifer quickly wound his tail around a leg to keep it absolutely still. Have some dignity.

He rubbed the heel of a hand against his forehead, ease the ache of horns that had torn through the skin. It let him focus anywhere but at him.

Not shaken, he said. Yet he could hear and feel so much earlier that he could easily call on that bullshit.

Instead, he'll let himself sail on it.

"...Right. I'll be checking in on that bite later, you understand?" He turned and waved a hand, as many fallen feathers began to swirl and vanish themselves.

But he'd been... 'messy' with a few. Left some behind.

"A good artist never lets their work sit after a first draft, after all... chér." He hadn't looked back. He was already off to his promised task.

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