It was like stretching as far as he could, a fingertip just brushing his goal. Lucifer pushed just a tiny bit further, and quickly grabbed what he could, seized it tight before he started to pull himself back.
He eased out a shuddering breath as he proceeded apace with severing the connection. To snap it shut too quickly could be too much of a shock, even for someone who could endure greater pain.
The seraph pulled away a fine, golden ball and balanced it in his hands.
"...Even the pain of primordial Good... that's either complete insanity or a testament to your tolerance levels. Maybe both." His eyes burned red as he turned to look upon this ball, curled his fingers inward.
His magic poured inward from the palm like serpents, hungrily snapping and binding, swallowing that remnant. When he crushed it all within his fingers, let the wisps of smoke billow, he couldn't help his own hiss between his teeth.
Alastor was talented with controlling his expressions, even those of pain - but this was horrid. The injury had hurt when he'd received it, but he'd had the strength to speak and sing without waver.
The feeling of the blessing being pulled out of him made Alastor realize how much the damned energy had taken root. It felt like his nerves were grabbed by the handful and pulled out like a clot of string, and the last rational thing he could manage was to drop his hands to the arms of the chair so his claws slashed through fabric instead of the man helping him. White hot agony, so intense it stole his breath and his voice, stole his sight and hearing - all for that split second before relief.
It still hurt. But the drop in intensity made the open gash feel almost breezy instead, light like he'd had a lead weight stuck in his sternum. Alastor slacked against the back of his chair, his breath finally escaping in a faintly groaning exhale. His body, his magic, all were thrumming - he could sense it now, that the injury was already hastily healing itself, free of its heavenly burden.
Certainly... he'd have to find a way to thank Lucifer, in a way. Give him a moment - he'll harass the man to make sure he wasn't still harboring any lingering effects of the injury. He never asked for Lucifer to suffer in his place, damn him.
By all accounts, he should have kept his cool. But once he was free of the eradication of another foul remnant of the First Man- surely there would be more somewhere in Hell, and it was clear he needed to find and cleanse them- it was...
...Alarming to see Alastor like this. He'd disappeared a while after the fight, popped up with a smile like nothing happened. To see him like this was... humbling, he supposed, but there was a frosty little knot in his stomach.
Worry. He worried, and he'd bet his bottom dollar that Al would hate knowing that.
Rather than open his big mouth, he opted for wisdom in silence. Instead he watched, eyes scanning his face. So many more along his wings slid closed, perhaps relieved they could truly See nothing more of that curse that needed extracting.
Soon his expression was faltering a bit. Call him a softie all you wanted, but as his own breaths shallowed in a little panic, he realized he was going past worried.
Through it all, like his face was carved permanently in a grin, Alastor's smile never dropped. He would never allow it. Or perhaps, he couldn't stop it. Who could say?
After a few moments of silence, Alastor's haggard breathing slowly smoothed out, growing steady. There was still pain, but it was hardly of note - he'd been singing and dancing with far, far worse just moments ago, after all. This really was nothing.
"Showoff," Alastor repeated once he got his wind back, once his tongue had wit again. The demon pulled his claws free from the chair's upholstery, shaking off the stuffing before patting around for the scissors to start snipping at the rest of the stitching. "You aren't still hurting?"
The way his breathing evened helped settle his racing heart, albeit slowly. But it was the first word that had his shoulders relax from how tightly they'd held, the smallest incredulous huff leaving him, an attempt as a laugh.
Ass.
But he sought the scissors and eased them into his hand.
"No, it's... it's all on you again. But if you ever nee- want it, just..." He kept his hands to himself, but his fingers fidgeted with the rosary, absently.
"I just need to be in the vicinity, and I can keep it going."
"Good," Alastor started, petting Lucifer's hair gently but a little tauntingly. Good boy. "But I don't intend to receive another angelic wound. And any other wound won't cause enough pain to buckle me."
Such a little worrywart... Alastor could fret about his life or death on his own time, and it didn't need to be on anyone else's shoulders.
"You're a surprisingly sensitive sort. Cute. I'll have to explore that later," Alastor added, letting his voice trail off lowly - let the devil catch those implications, he'd earned them.
He started, clutching the beads as he sent Alastor a look.
Oh. Okay. So he was well enough to be a cad again. Good to know. The funny thing about blood, however, is that it sort of did whatever it wanted, including raising the color in his face despite the look.
...You know what? Two can play that game.
"I see. You sure about that...? Your body lit up with these ones..." A scant brush against the edge of the bandage he'd placed at the neck. Surely he didn't mean all angelic wounds...
You're no angel, Lucifer, and honestly thank everything for that. The devil himself, the fallen angel - those bites had hurt, but it had been such a pleasant and blissful hurt. Not comparable in the slightest, especially since there was never a second that Alastor would have enjoyed feeling torn open and exposed to anyone besides Lucifer. Certainly not Adam.
...Vox's time had long passed.
Though Alastor had restrained any sign of his body trying to shudder, any blink or flinch of delight, his skin betrayed him by raising goosebumps as it tingled under that touch.
"You enjoy gentle as much as a little nibble, don't you. I can understand, it must feel pleasant to be treated like a precious gem," he teased fondly back, letting his fingers gently trace down Lucifer's scalp, petting him.
Was he making fun? What's wrong with gentle!? Oh, he had to show him. ...After he's better.
"When I get going, Bambi, you're sure tooooooghmmm..." Oh no. Not the head massages. Mercy. Have mercy...
"Youuuu're pretty and your voice is a good brandy..." We're sorry. Lucifer.exe has encountered an illegal operation and must shut down to prevent further deterioration.
Ooh, his voice, hmm? Pride swelled - Alastor was quite pleased with how his voice was, how it always got compliments both in life and afterlife. 'Pretty' was a harder sell, but the more Lucifer insists, it must be some sort of true.
"Good as brandy, hmm...? Have you wanted to hear my voice whispering sweet nothings to you, Cher? To say your name, my morning star?" he purred into Lucifer's ear, the soft popping of the radio filter warming his already warm voice as he continued to gently stroke that soft duck-tail hair. "I can whisper things just for you, Cher... things you can play on repeat whenever you want."
It was something that hung in him sometimes during idle conversation or overhearing bits and pieces. Lucifer found Alastor's voice pleasant, with and without the filter. But there were moments when it dipped into something, dropped the upper volume of bravado and felt rather... personal. Private.
He guessed he had a thing for crooners.
Hell with it all... though he had a brief and embarrassing catch in his breath, his attempt to shove the Radio Demon's head away from his ear was feeble, more coquettish than anything. You call him things like that, and he'll have so much trouble maintaining any level of composure.
Things just for him? Oh no... Oh, no...
"Fffffuck, you fight dirty, don't you...?" Give him time, and he'll melt into an awful puddle.
The push moved Alastor's face away, playing along - forceful men were such brutes and he had such a disdain for them. Instead Alastor chuckled, cupping marigold-tinged cheeks in his hands. Warm...
"You've got the sweet tooth of the two of us. You're too sweet for me," he murmured fondly, before humming a bit - that's right, that's the lyric of a song. He'll have to save that to sing to Lucifer later.
"A shining light in Hell's skies. Our sun. And you're all mine, tonight."
His tail was waving as he leaned into the touch, eyes hooded and full-on entranced.
Perhaps he was purring, all cocooned up in such delightful touch and attention that he didn't want to end. He practically had little hearts popping away.
This was in his wheelhouse. Thriving.
"Not just tonight, if you want. I can cancel everything, every meeting..." He set his hands to (gently) run up and down his front.
"Promises, promises..." Alastor chided gently, though he didn't mind the touch on his chest. Lucifer would feel it was far, far less tense than before - no surprise, given how much relief pulling the blessing from Adam's weapon had brought.
He was tantalizingly close. They could kiss, with how Alastor was cradling the man's face... but he drew it out instead, rubbing his thumbs in circles to trace the cute red blots on Lucifer's cheeks.
"We could have funny little games with meetings... ones where I could whisper in a way only you can hear it. Say things for your ears only," Alastor purred, smiling in a surprisingly gentle way at Lucifer. "Something subtle, to see you squirm with anticipation for the meeting to end... or we could attend that Goetia event, where I can lay on your lap and whisper in your ear. Who could possibly tell you no?"
There, he's been patient enough - Alastor rewards patience with a kiss, paying close mind to every twitch and exhale to study the king's reaction, to store it away as a trophy.
Nobody... nobody would. Oh, but the mental image of fighting, of using every ounce of his will to keep his composure as he was teased mercilessly with promises of so many things once the meeting was over was making him squirm a little bit.
These were things he also hadn't had in far, far too long. To feel anticipation again, to feel so bunched up and wanting to explode...
"You torment me..." Was the King of Hell... short of breath?
But who knew torture better than the Overlords, eh? He moaned into the kiss, body just short of catching fire, as he felt wound around a finger.
"Imagine the torment once I actually learn these things," Alastor chuckled. If his voice and simple touch did so much, they ought to help make the rest go more easily, he supposes. There's no intuitive guide... but Alastor found himself willing to learn.
"All the myriad ways to experiment... like dancing one's fingers over the keys of the piano, tickling them to create a new tune..."
There's a little pause - Alastor had been reflecting on their moments together. There were the obvious ones, like Lucifer getting flustered about Alastor talking about eating him, or licking his cut finger, or even being given a squeaky duck after a nightmare.
But that cheshire grin grew a little as a memory connected to his understanding.
"Why... now that I think about it, you made quite the expression when I detangled you using the tendrils."
It was hard not to relax and just soak up the pleasant touch, enjoying warm fingers caressing his ears so, so nicely. Alastor's eyes fluttered shut for a bit before he opened one to peek at Lucifer.
He'd started the day out quite roughly, buuuut... right now, the man looked quite happy. Relaxed.
Well weeeeell... if Lucifer's so eager, why not indulge him a little right now? That sounds fun.
Without much warning, tendrils are summoned silently, slipping up the back of Lucifer's shirt and writhing underneath the fabric as they coiled around him like snakes. Alastor's hands idly pulled back and he leaned his chin on his palm, like a man kicking back to enjoy a show.
"And miss that yelp of surprise? Not on your life~!" Alastor cheerfully chirped, chuckling in amusement. He watched as if relaxed, focused on moving the tendrils...
He couldn't feel much through them, but he didn't need to. He was fascinated, having them clumsily feel at every inch of skin. Lucifer was warm in his lap, and those faces and shivers are SO good.
But even the clumsiest of movement was enough to get him squirming a bit, eyes closed as he tried to articulate something, anything at all. Curse at him? No... no it was beyond the time for that.
"L-little harder... little slower..." He managed to get that out between breaths. Definitely not what he had in mind! But... but it was fine.
A little harder, a little slower, got it. One wrapped all the way around, squeezing like a snake as the other pressed and slid along Lucifer's side, teasing at his belt.
"Such a sight, indeed... don't forget our safe word~" Alastor said cheerfully, staring with no awareness of just how soft his gaze was getting. All he was thinking was how cute Lucifer was, flustered and marigold like this, embarrassed but eager.
He nodded, a minute gesture. Pie-thingy. He had to remember pie-thingy.
His tail snaked its way around the other man's waist, an anchor as the touch firmed and slowed. But there was a touch at his belt and it had him squirming again, give a short huff under his breath.
"Y-y'know, a king... should be casting down a punishment for... for torture..." He just opened an eye, only a peek, to look at him.
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divinetree2024-04-01 08:17 am
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He eased out a shuddering breath as he proceeded apace with severing the connection. To snap it shut too quickly could be too much of a shock, even for someone who could endure greater pain.
The seraph pulled away a fine, golden ball and balanced it in his hands.
"...Even the pain of primordial Good... that's either complete insanity or a testament to your tolerance levels. Maybe both." His eyes burned red as he turned to look upon this ball, curled his fingers inward.
His magic poured inward from the palm like serpents, hungrily snapping and binding, swallowing that remnant. When he crushed it all within his fingers, let the wisps of smoke billow, he couldn't help his own hiss between his teeth.
Bother him no longer. Begone, Adam.
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The feeling of the blessing being pulled out of him made Alastor realize how much the damned energy had taken root. It felt like his nerves were grabbed by the handful and pulled out like a clot of string, and the last rational thing he could manage was to drop his hands to the arms of the chair so his claws slashed through fabric instead of the man helping him. White hot agony, so intense it stole his breath and his voice, stole his sight and hearing - all for that split second before relief.
It still hurt. But the drop in intensity made the open gash feel almost breezy instead, light like he'd had a lead weight stuck in his sternum. Alastor slacked against the back of his chair, his breath finally escaping in a faintly groaning exhale. His body, his magic, all were thrumming - he could sense it now, that the injury was already hastily healing itself, free of its heavenly burden.
Certainly... he'd have to find a way to thank Lucifer, in a way. Give him a moment - he'll harass the man to make sure he wasn't still harboring any lingering effects of the injury. He never asked for Lucifer to suffer in his place, damn him.
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...Alarming to see Alastor like this. He'd disappeared a while after the fight, popped up with a smile like nothing happened. To see him like this was... humbling, he supposed, but there was a frosty little knot in his stomach.
Worry. He worried, and he'd bet his bottom dollar that Al would hate knowing that.
Rather than open his big mouth, he opted for wisdom in silence. Instead he watched, eyes scanning his face. So many more along his wings slid closed, perhaps relieved they could truly See nothing more of that curse that needed extracting.
Soon his expression was faltering a bit. Call him a softie all you wanted, but as his own breaths shallowed in a little panic, he realized he was going past worried.
Seeing him like this scared him.
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After a few moments of silence, Alastor's haggard breathing slowly smoothed out, growing steady. There was still pain, but it was hardly of note - he'd been singing and dancing with far, far worse just moments ago, after all. This really was nothing.
"Showoff," Alastor repeated once he got his wind back, once his tongue had wit again. The demon pulled his claws free from the chair's upholstery, shaking off the stuffing before patting around for the scissors to start snipping at the rest of the stitching. "You aren't still hurting?"
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Ass.
But he sought the scissors and eased them into his hand.
"No, it's... it's all on you again. But if you ever nee- want it, just..." He kept his hands to himself, but his fingers fidgeted with the rosary, absently.
"I just need to be in the vicinity, and I can keep it going."
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Such a little worrywart... Alastor could fret about his life or death on his own time, and it didn't need to be on anyone else's shoulders.
"You're a surprisingly sensitive sort. Cute. I'll have to explore that later," Alastor added, letting his voice trail off lowly - let the devil catch those implications, he'd earned them.
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Oh. Okay. So he was well enough to be a cad again. Good to know. The funny thing about blood, however, is that it sort of did whatever it wanted, including raising the color in his face despite the look.
...You know what? Two can play that game.
"I see. You sure about that...? Your body lit up with these ones..." A scant brush against the edge of the bandage he'd placed at the neck. Surely he didn't mean all angelic wounds...
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...Vox's time had long passed.
Though Alastor had restrained any sign of his body trying to shudder, any blink or flinch of delight, his skin betrayed him by raising goosebumps as it tingled under that touch.
"You enjoy gentle as much as a little nibble, don't you. I can understand, it must feel pleasant to be treated like a precious gem," he teased fondly back, letting his fingers gently trace down Lucifer's scalp, petting him.
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"When I get going, Bambi, you're sure tooooooghmmm..." Oh no. Not the head massages. Mercy. Have mercy...
"Youuuu're pretty and your voice is a good brandy..." We're sorry. Lucifer.exe has encountered an illegal operation and must shut down to prevent further deterioration.
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"Good as brandy, hmm...? Have you wanted to hear my voice whispering sweet nothings to you, Cher? To say your name, my morning star?" he purred into Lucifer's ear, the soft popping of the radio filter warming his already warm voice as he continued to gently stroke that soft duck-tail hair. "I can whisper things just for you, Cher... things you can play on repeat whenever you want."
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He guessed he had a thing for crooners.
Hell with it all... though he had a brief and embarrassing catch in his breath, his attempt to shove the Radio Demon's head away from his ear was feeble, more coquettish than anything. You call him things like that, and he'll have so much trouble maintaining any level of composure.
Things just for him? Oh no... Oh, no...
"Fffffuck, you fight dirty, don't you...?" Give him time, and he'll melt into an awful puddle.
"Oh, but I burn for sweet nothings..."
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"You've got the sweet tooth of the two of us. You're too sweet for me," he murmured fondly, before humming a bit - that's right, that's the lyric of a song. He'll have to save that to sing to Lucifer later.
"A shining light in Hell's skies. Our sun. And you're all mine, tonight."
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Perhaps he was purring, all cocooned up in such delightful touch and attention that he didn't want to end. He practically had little hearts popping away.
This was in his wheelhouse. Thriving.
"Not just tonight, if you want. I can cancel everything, every meeting..." He set his hands to (gently) run up and down his front.
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He was tantalizingly close. They could kiss, with how Alastor was cradling the man's face... but he drew it out instead, rubbing his thumbs in circles to trace the cute red blots on Lucifer's cheeks.
"We could have funny little games with meetings... ones where I could whisper in a way only you can hear it. Say things for your ears only," Alastor purred, smiling in a surprisingly gentle way at Lucifer. "Something subtle, to see you squirm with anticipation for the meeting to end... or we could attend that Goetia event, where I can lay on your lap and whisper in your ear. Who could possibly tell you no?"
There, he's been patient enough - Alastor rewards patience with a kiss, paying close mind to every twitch and exhale to study the king's reaction, to store it away as a trophy.
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These were things he also hadn't had in far, far too long. To feel anticipation again, to feel so bunched up and wanting to explode...
"You torment me..." Was the King of Hell... short of breath?
But who knew torture better than the Overlords, eh? He moaned into the kiss, body just short of catching fire, as he felt wound around a finger.
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"All the myriad ways to experiment... like dancing one's fingers over the keys of the piano, tickling them to create a new tune..."
There's a little pause - Alastor had been reflecting on their moments together. There were the obvious ones, like Lucifer getting flustered about Alastor talking about eating him, or licking his cut finger, or even being given a squeaky duck after a nightmare.
But that cheshire grin grew a little as a memory connected to his understanding.
"Why... now that I think about it, you made quite the expression when I detangled you using the tendrils."
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"Can't blame me~ It's not every day that you get... 'tendril'd'. But I didn't expect them to be so warm, so... soft. So precise."
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He'd started the day out quite roughly, buuuut... right now, the man looked quite happy. Relaxed.
"We can always play with them, hmm?"
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Ahem.
"Yes, yes, I'd like that."
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Without much warning, tendrils are summoned silently, slipping up the back of Lucifer's shirt and writhing underneath the fabric as they coiled around him like snakes. Alastor's hands idly pulled back and he leaned his chin on his palm, like a man kicking back to enjoy a show.
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Once the initial shock faded and he looked down, the spell momentarily snapped from his eyes, he recognized... oh... the, uh...
The, uh. Tendrils. Yep. Those su-hu-huuuuuure-
The color sharply rose in his face. It wasn't just a touch over his outfit, but they'd just slipped right in completely, touched bare skin.
Alastor was rewarded with a shiver, a stumbling breath.
"Y-you maybe wanna warn a guy next time...!?"
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He couldn't feel much through them, but he didn't need to. He was fascinated, having them clumsily feel at every inch of skin. Lucifer was warm in his lap, and those faces and shivers are SO good.
"Charming~"
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But even the clumsiest of movement was enough to get him squirming a bit, eyes closed as he tried to articulate something, anything at all. Curse at him? No... no it was beyond the time for that.
"L-little harder... little slower..." He managed to get that out between breaths. Definitely not what he had in mind! But... but it was fine.
These were some good shadowy, creepy tendrils...
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"Such a sight, indeed... don't forget our safe word~" Alastor said cheerfully, staring with no awareness of just how soft his gaze was getting. All he was thinking was how cute Lucifer was, flustered and marigold like this, embarrassed but eager.
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His tail snaked its way around the other man's waist, an anchor as the touch firmed and slowed. But there was a touch at his belt and it had him squirming again, give a short huff under his breath.
"Y-y'know, a king... should be casting down a punishment for... for torture..." He just opened an eye, only a peek, to look at him.
"But I pride myself... on my resilience..."
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