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Despite the prosperity that has come from moving to New Pent City, Alastor refuses to get accustomed to the smell. Putrid scents drift in from the sewers, the alleys, and the heaps of garbage waiting to be collected. He finds himself glaring at the leaking bags, shiny under the streetlight as he follows Husker to their base of operations.
“You were able to source this one much faster than normal,” Alastor comments, wrinkling his nose as they turn down one of a million identical alleyways in this city. The minimal amount of light that came from buzzing neons and street lamps dissipates as they stray further from the road still bustling with cars in spite of the late hour.
“Put up a hell of a fight once I got there, but wasn't hard to find,” Husker answers, gruffly. “Was right where you said. That cut out a lot of time.”
He stops under a faded, old sign, the butcher it advertised long since gone. Reaching for the handle of wrought iron, he swings open a heavy metal door, the hinges squeaking loudly. A nod in Alastor's direction signals him to enter first.
Pompous and proud, Alastor strolls into their nondescript office. By appearance, it could be the home to any number of businesses, all of which would be much more legal than what it actually contained. “We’ll have to send our thanks to Rosie for the intel, then.”
Standing in the entryway, Alastor briefly sets aside his cherrywood cane and removes his suit jacket. Even in the business of crime, it's important to look put together. It would be hard to keep appearances if he ends up with their new hostage's blood on his coat.
This was one of their biggest jobs to date and essential for their future. The Radio Mafia was new in town but gaining power rapidly. They were on the precipice of becoming a group to be truly feared – up with the likes of the Vees, the Carmines, and eventually the Morningstars. Remaining cautious will be crucial in the next few days, but they will be atop the heap in due time.
“Sure, but she could’a warned us that he was so good at fightin’.”
Alastor stills. He turns his full attention to Husker, who continues, oblivious.
“Even though I had the jump on’em he still nearly kicked my–”
“He?”
Husker stares back, his thick, dark eyebrows pinching together. “Huh?”
“He. As in a man.”
“Yeah? ‘Least I think so, based on looks.”
A great heaving sigh forces itself through Alastor's chest. His anger rising, he drapes his coat over one arm and clasps his hands together in front of him. Cold and serious, he speaks clearly. “Husker. Your target was a woman.”
Flinching under the gaze, Husker takes a step back. He may have a bulkier build and possess more than enough strength to take Alastor in a fair fight, but any fight involving Alastor would not be fair. Creativity in combat combined with his height and Alastor would have Husker dead on the floor in a matter of seconds if he so chose.
“I– uh. You jus’-- I thought, um–” Husker shakily explains, putting his hands up in between them. “He fit the description a-and was in the exact seat Rosie told us.”
Alastor scowls deepens.
So some sorry sucker just happened to sit in the wrong seat, in the wrong theatre, and winds up kidnapped. Now there's some random man locked up in their interrogation room and their actual target is long gone and probably on high alert. A fantastic start to the evening.
“You were told to fetch a city councilman’s spouse and you thought this random nobody was the correct target?” Pinching the bridge of his nose, Alastor growls, “Are you naturally this idiotic? Or did you have to make an effort?”
Husker has the gall to look offended. “He’s pretty enough to be somebody’s trophy husband and was in the right seat – what else was I supposed to think?”
“Clearly you didn't think enough.” Alastor shoves his coat into Husker's chest. “Thanks to your fuck up we just lost out on a massive ransom.”
Husker’s mouth forms a tight line as he takes the coat. He avoids eye contact as Alastor paces the room and rubs his temples. A change of plans was required and he had to come up with the new one quickly, lest they lose their target. Again.
Rounding on Husker, Alastor makes his orders in a harsh voice. “While I'm busy cleaning up your mess, you are to go straight to Rosie. Explain what happened and kindly ask her to keep an eye out in case the target tries to skip town. Do whatever she requests in return – do not haggle with her. Lord knows we owe her enough favors as is.”
“...Yes, Boss.”
Snatching up his cane, Alastor gives Husker one last glare. “Do not disappoint me again.”
He doesn't wait for an answer. Instead, he takes quick steps through the room and down the hallway that leads to their makeshift interrogation room.
This job, and its massive monetary potential, has just slipped through their fingers. Now they would have to either completely abandon the original target, and her ransom, or retry the kidnapping despite drastically higher difficulty. If they weren't careful, they would be back to committing petty theft to scrape by – how undignified.
Alastor sighs as his hand wraps around the door handle to the interrogation room. At least disposing of this random person Husker captured should be light work. A few glares and threatening words should be enough to ensure this stranger doesn't squeal to any authorities. Alastor wasn't in the business of killing the innocent without monetary encouragement.
He would have preferred to play off the whole situation as a mistake – that they had simply found the man unconscious and brought him to a safe location, but Husker had been ordered to tie the target to the chair and bind both their arms and legs in handcuffs. It would take the stupidest person alive to believe that this had all been some big misunderstanding. Even a brainless trophy husband would have higher intelligence than that.
Opening the door just wide enough to slip inside, Alastor closes it behind him. “Well, it must have been quite the exciting evening for you – kidnapped and bound and it's not even the witching hour! Not to worry, though. We’ll have just a little talk and you'll be on your way to enjoy the rest of your–”
When Alastor turns to look their hostage in the eye, his heart drops all the way to his feet. The clatter of his cane falling from his hands echoes in the sparsely furnished room.
Curious and unafraid blue irises stare back at him, framed by platinum blond hair and a smug pearly-white grin. The elegant swoop of gold with strands of grey form an unmistakable ducktail hairstyle.
“Aw, you recognize me.” Lucifer Morningstar pouts up at him. “This would have been way more fun if I could have played along.”
More clattering, this time of metal, hits the hardwood behind Lucifer as the cuffs binding his hands fall to the floor. Gingerly, he massages his wrists where faint, pink marks create temporary bracelets. “You know that guy didn't have to be so rough with me. I wasn't putting up that much of a fight.”
“I…” Alastor stares, wide-eyed.
What could he possibly say? ‘Sorry my dumb brute of a henchman kidnapped you, the head of the largest and most powerful Mafia in New Pent City’?
“So what is your name, pretty boy?” Lucifer asks, fluttering his lashes. He either doesn't notice or completely disregards the frozen cogs of Alastor's brain. Instead, he very deliberately rakes his gaze down and up Alastor's form. “You look kind of young to be heading a crime syndicate.”
Alastor winces as his ego takes a hit – despite the strides he's taken in a new city, he’s still below the recognition of the more powerful organizations. There will be time to make Lucifer regret his lack of acknowledgment later; but for now, Alastor needs to get out of this disastrous situation alive and with his own organization intact.
“Alastor. Alastor Heartfelt.” Alastor plasters on his trademark charming smile and extends his hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Morningstar, though I wish it could have been under better circumstances.”
Lucifer stands and takes the offered hand, shaking it firmly. All that Alastor can focus on, however, is the mafioso’s stature. Easily a foot shorter, Lucifer's head tilts back to look him in the eye, confident and calm. Alastor is careful to keep his expression friendly, not wanting to give away his surprise – the man they called “The Devil” had really looked much taller in photographs.
“I’d say the circumstances are as good as we can ask for given our line of work. Not a lot of room for casual meetings.” Lucifer retracts his hand and looks around the room. “So… Nice base of operations you've got going on here. Not a bad place to start out at all! Lust District?”
Alastor shifts awkwardly on his feet, wringing his hands behind his back. Unsure and unwilling to give more intel than necessary, he simply says, “Ah, no.”
Lucifer nods sagely. “Doomsday District then.”
The muscles of Alastor’s jaw twitch. It's more than a little unsettling that Lucifer was able to guess their location so quickly. Husker brought him here blindfolded at a minimum and unconscious at maximum. Nothing in the room could possibly have given their location away, so how..?
No, he doesn't need to know. Instead of replying, Alastor keeps his mouth shut on the subject. No need to freely give even more information.
Noticing his silence, Lucifer turns and gives Alastor his full attention. “That wasn't a threat, just impressed. It's like you've managed to have both beauty and brains.”
Alastor's brows pinch. While he was no masochist or glutton for punishment, he was expecting to be on the receiving end of a knife or gun – not flirtations. He tilts his head and asks, “Is there a reason you are not more upset at my infringement of your freedom?”
“I am upset,” Lucifer says, not sounding remotely upset at all. He folds his hands behind his back and somehow manages to look down at Alastor. “I'm pissed actually. But I'm sure we can come to an agreement on how you can personally…” his gaze flicks up and down once again. “ Make it up to me .”
Something ravenous in Lucifer’s gaze has Alastor's heart picking up tempo. Something akin to adrenaline floods his veins, every single one of his senses sharpening so that they might perceive the man in front of him as a more complete picture.
“It would be much appreciated to be afforded the opportunity to settle this misunderstanding quickly,” Alastor, despite feeling like he’s on his back foot in this fight, jumps at the chance for a way out. He hates owing favors, especially to those with much more power. “What did you have in mind in the way of retribution?”
Lucifer stares at him with confusion marring smooth, blemish-free skin. The frown has Alastor fearing that he has misstepped, but nothing he’s said could be remotely controversial, right?
“First, can you stop talking all fancy? I don't know if it's a nervous tick or something, but stop it.” Lucifer props a fist on his cocked hip. “Second, how good are you at blow jobs?”
Any chance for a rebuttal to the first question is smashed to pieces by the second. Alastor actually takes a step back at the absurdity of it. “E-excuse me? I'm sorry, I must have misheard.”
Smirking, Lucifer says, “I asked if you could stop talking like some high-brow academic.”
“Ah, no.” Alastor’s gaze shifts awkwardly to the side. “Well, I suppose I could speak more simply if absolutely necessary, but I was referring to the second question.”
“Oh, the blow job?” Lucifer’s brows furrow as if it was weird that Alastor is asking for clarification. “Yeah, I just wanted to ask how good the service would be before I asked for it, you know?”
“Before you asked…” Alastor can't even finish his sentence, too caught up by the incredulity.
“For an I'm-sorry-I-kidnapped-you blowjob, yeah,” Lucifer says like it was the most mundane thing spoken aloud in all of existence.
Seconds pass as Alastor's brain desperately tries to form a coherent thought. It wasn't an uncommon thing in their shared industry, to use sexual acts as a means of payment or retribution. That said, Alastor never thought it would be requested of him. That kind of thing was saved for those of obscene beauty or rumored legendary technique, not new, up-and-coming crime lords.
“Look, if you really aren't into it, I won't force you. I'm not into the whole non-consensual stuff.” Lucifer’s face screws up in disgust momentarily before continuing. “Ugh, no, I would just take a favor over that, but I would prefer the ‘quid pro quo’ if you're up for it.”
The sheer level of cognitive dissonance Alastor is experiencing allows him to bypass his better judgment, and actually consider the request.
Somehow, owing Lucifer Morningstar, the most powerful man in the city, an ambiguous favor is even more distasteful than Alastor offering his mouth for a few minutes. Surely it is the lesser of two evils, right?
An unfortunate answer, but that doesn't make it untrue. Plus…
Alastor has to admit he was curious. Lucifer has zero reputation as a playboy or sexpest and, to Alastor's knowledge, the man was married with a child. Agreeing to this may offer leverage for blackmail in the future.
“I… suppose I can agree to that,” Alastor says, eyeing the man before him. If nothing else, he was able to understand why Husker had mistaken Lucifer as some trophy husband. Even Alastor can admit that he was kind to the eye. “As long as you can confirm that my transgression will be forgiven afterward.”
“Well, that will depend on you, pretty boy.” With a predator’s grace, Lucifer circles around Alastor to return to the chair he was previously bound to. He flops down into it and spreads his knees wide as he looks up at Alastor through his lashes. Pride and lust mix together into a heady concoction in Lucifer’s gaze. “If we're in agreement, then why don't you put that fancy mouth of yours to good use and I’ll consider forgiving you.”
Something sharp and insistent coils behind Alastor's navel at the sight and the words coming from Lucifer’s mouth only winds it tighter. Maintaining his straight-backed posture, Alastor walks, light-footed and unsure, to stand in front of Lucifer.
A moment of silence for Alastor's dignity passes before he slowly lowers. The linoleum floor is as cold and cruel on his knees as this entire situation. Lucifer's blinding smile only broadens with the show of acceptance and submission.
Another staring contest ensues – something primal burns between them. The tension reaches a fever pitch when Lucifer spreads his knees an inch further, a bulge forming between them, and says, “Well? Get on with it.”
The word ‘bossy’ floats to the forefront of Alastor's mind, but he holds his tongue. Instead, he reaches for the fly of Lucifer's dress pants and hopes the shaking of his fingers goes unnoticed.
While Alastor's sexual history is not as sparse as many would believe, performing this act is new. He has received fellatio before – once from a kept-for-appearances girlfriend and once from a particularly entertaining stranger he’d met at a jazz club – and it was not as world-changing as he was led to believe. He certainly couldn't imagine throwing away leverage for one. As Alastor unbuttons and unzips Lucifer’s pants, he sends a silent thank you to the Devil – the sin of Lust was coming in rather handy this evening.
Lucifer lifts his hips to allow Alastor to pull both pants and underwear down, letting them pool around fine-boned ankles. Thin, blond leg hair raises upon coming into contact with the cool air of the room. When Alastor releases the fabric and is face to face with the reality of his situation, he hesitates.
Exposed in front of him, Lucifer smirks down and says, “You can still back out if you want. I'll take the favor.”
Alastor takes a long, purposeful look at Lucifer's cock before meeting his gaze. “I'm not backing out.”
Twitching with interest, Lucifer’s cock is not overly large or thick. It's decidedly average and proportional to the man's height, but the color is just exquisite. Paper-like skin, both in color and delicacy, stretches over the hard length of it. A captivating blush pink covers the head and gradates down the shaft like watercolor.
Reaching out his hand, Alastor strokes his pointer finger down it, tracing a blue vein visible under pale, cool-toned pink. The skin there is just as soft and delicate as it looks. He takes Lucifer fully in hand and, shifting position on his knees, leans in.
The first lick is a barely-there sensation, just enough of a swipe over the head to get a taste. Alastor mulls over the imminent future of doing it again – and doing more – and finds himself wholly indifferent. The task wouldn't be hard to accomplish and would end with him in a better position than before. To Hell with it.
Wrapping his long, tanned fingers around the shaft, Alastor licks again. Long and wet, his tongue travels from base to tip in one continuous motion. A sigh leaves Lucifer's lips, followed by a gasp when Alastor wastes no time and takes him fully into his mouth.
The taste is not completely unpleasant. It's a vague mix of salt and some kind of floral-scented soap. And the weight of it on Alastor's tongue was almost an odd sort of comfort.
As he slowly works his way down, taking one centimeter after the other, the floral scent grows stronger. When Lucifer's whole cock is in his mouth and his nose is nestled among golden blond pubic hair, does Alastor recognize the scent: lavender.
Following his memory of past partners’ actions, Alastor hollows his cheeks and glides his head slowly upwards. When just the tip is left in his mouth, he slides his tongue over the slit.
“Fuck, baby…” Lucifer’s hand pushes through Alastor's hair. The warm-toned brown locks part smoothly between pale fingers and they're dragged backward and away from his forehead. Guiding him in a slow rhythm, Lucifer watches his cock disappear into Alastor’s mouth, pupils blown wide.
“That's it, beautiful,” Lucifer bites his lip as he takes in the unobstructed view. “You look really good like this, y’know?”
Blush threatens to overtake Alastor's entire complexion at this rate. He backs off, Lucifer’s cock sliding out with an audible, wet ‘pop’, and says, dryly, “I’d prefer that you don't continue with the commentary.”
A single crooked finger tilts his chin up to look Lucifer in the eye. After an appraising glance, Lucifer's mouth quirks up. “I think you do prefer it, Alastor.”
With his other hand, he takes himself in hand and slides the head over Alastor's lower lip teasingly. “I think you like me telling you how pretty you look with my cock in your mouth. And I like telling you. So why don't you get back to what we both enjoy so much?”
Alastor brings his own hand up to wrap around Lucifer's and the one holding his cock stills. Burning humiliation lights like a match and Alastor, petulant and flustered, hisses, “I'm not some common whore who needs reassurance that they're not past their prime.”
The hand in Alastor's hair tightens painfully, forcing a shocked gasp from his lips. It forces his lips away from Lucifer’s cock and drags his gaze upward until they're looking each other in the eye. There's a knowing sparkle in the bright blue irises that wasn't there before.
“A common whore? No, Alastor. At this moment you're my personal whore.” Lucifer leans forward, his lips a milliliter from Alastor's. “If you really don't want to be called one while we do this, just say the word, but I think we both know that you fucking love it .”
In lieu of an answer, Alastor surges forward, pressing their lips together. It's not long before a tongue presses into his mouth and he congratulates himself for the successful distraction. He would rather die than admit to the decidedly interested twitch his own genitalia gave at the prospect of being Lucifer's whore.
The kiss is urgent and messy and Alastor has to pull back for air before the fuzzy feeling in his head gets any stronger. He moves his attention to Lucifer's jaw and trails a path down his neck. Nimble fingers make quick work of the topmost button of his dress shirt and pull the fabric open. The pale skin there bruises easily as he sucks and nips at the join of Lucifer’s throat and shoulder.
“You're lucky I like hickeys,” Lucifer says through panting breaths. His hands have both wound their way into Alastor's hair and tug at the strands, needy and desperate. “I could have you assassinated for marking me.”
Alastor gives one more lick over the bruised skin and takes Lucifer in hand once again. “Fellatio for kidnapping and death for a bruise? You have rather unusual priorities, Mr. Morningstar.”
Lucifer’s chuckle turns into a gasping moan as Alastor applies his mouth once again. Salty pre-come floods his taste buds as he begins bobbing his head in a rhythm guided by Lucifer’s hands. Keeping his lips, tongue, and inner walls of his cheeks flush against the paper-like skin lets his mouth glide smooth and hot.
“F-fuck, Alastor,” Lucifer groans. “God that is so hot, holy shit.”
Alastor hums and sinks lower until he hits the base. He can't feel Lucifer's cock reach the back of his throat, but it's close enough that swallowing earns him another moan.
“God, I knew your mouth was good for more than fancy words.” Lucifer’s hands guide Alastor to begin bobbing up and down again, focusing on the tip. “Maybe I should take over your little operation here. I’d– Ah! Fuck, I’d have you be my little slut, ready to suck my cock whenever I want. Maybe even keep you on a leash.”
Alastor wrinkles his nose and pulls off again. Voice low and dangerous, he snaps, “I am not your pet.”
Releasing his grip on Alastor's hair, Lucifer’s hands go to his own collar and work on unbuttoning his dress shirt the rest of the way. “It's just dirty talk, Al. I'm not actually going to collar and leash you.”
Undoing the last button, Lucifer lets the shirt slide slightly down his shoulders and shows off a torso of more pale skin stretched over lean muscle. He winks when he catches Alastor's wandering eyes. “Not unless you want me to.”
“What I want is for you to finish so we can go back to our separate lives.”
“See, I’d believe you, but I've been watching,” Lucifer teases as he leans in close. He trails the tip of his booted foot up the tense length of Alastor’s inner thigh, inching closer to his clothed arousal. “I think at least a certain part of you is interested in seeing me more.”
The pressure Lucifer's boot applies to the crotch of Alastor's pants is light but has Alastor bowing his head with a loud moan all the same.
“But I’ll drop the pet-play terms – it was a shot in the dark anyway.” Lucifer moves the ball of his foot in small circles, providing delicious friction. “I'm not super into it either, but you liked being called mine so I thought I’d give it a shot.”
Alastor lets his head droop until his temple is pressed against Lucifer's thigh and the bridge of his nose flush with the curve of Lucifer’s full, leaking cock.
“It's nothing to be ashamed of,” Lucifer coos as he pushes back Alastor's curled brown hair. “It feels good to let someone else make all the decisions, hm? To not have to worry about anything other than pleasing and being pleased?”
Alastor steels himself, pooling all of this concentration. His hand comes to wrap around the ankle of Lucifer's boot. He's surprised to find that his hand fits completely around, his fingers brushing the skin of his thumb on the other side. “I would agree, but this makes it, ah– Ahem, r-rather difficult for me to provide any, ah, pleasure.”
“I don't know, seeing you drool for my cock like a slut is pretty pleasing,” Lucifer says, but mercifully removes his foot anyway. “You can continue.”
Alastor does as he’s directed but his mind spirals. He’s never been this riled up by anyone in the past. Is it really as simple as a change in roles? It's true that all of his past partners had fallen into the more submissive role, but being submissive himself? Everything in his controlling, prideful nature screams that it isn't true, but he cannot deny the flood of lust coursing through his veins.
Each flick of his tongue and hollowing of his cheeks brings Lucifer closer to the edge. The flaring of his ribs and the dancing of his abs signal his approach toward completion. The way that he arches his back and moans so beautifully has Alastor wishing he hadn't pushed for the removal of Lucifer’s foot.
It may have been degrading, but even Alastor could admit that it had provided much-needed relief. Just the thought of it happening again has him straining against the fly of his all-too-tight pants. He needs to end this quickly so he can relieve himself before he goes insane.
Picking up the pace, Alastor’s mouth focuses on the head as he strokes the now slick shaft with one hand and gently fondles Lucifer’s balls with the other.
“Oh, fuck…” Lucifer throws his head back and speaks to the ceiling. “That's it, Alastor, just keep– ah, keep doing that…”
The fabric of Lucifer’s shirt falls open even wider as the man arches his back and subtly rolls his hips. Shallow thrusts into Alastor's mouth pull more moans free as Lucifer stares down. The barely-intelligible rambling of a man in the throws of passion combined with the increasingly desperate and deep mouth fucking, has Alastor's lust-addled brain struggling to maintain composure.
This is supposed to be a simple transactional thing. Why are his hands leaving Lucifer and moving to his own crotch? Why can't he stop himself from palming his own hard length to the sounds of this man’s rough breathing and sweet moans?
“There we go, beautiful, open your mouth and let me fuck your throat like the whore you are.” Lucifer cradles Alastor's head, pale hands lost in dark, curled hair, and holds him still. His thrusts are coming faster and deeper as he nears the edge.
“Fuck, Alastor you feel as good as you look. Those pretty, brown doe eyes staring up at me as my cock disappears down your fucking throat. God, I wish I could rip those clothes off of you and see you. I bet you’d be even more beautiful.”
Alastor's fingers make quick work of the button and zipper keeping his hand from his cock. As soon as they are undone, his hand slips under the waistband of his boxer briefs and finally gets to have some relieving friction.
“Yes, stroke yourself Alastor. Let me see you get off from me fucking your face just the way you need. Look me in the eye and imagine that it's not your mouth I'm fucking. Think about how good it would feel if I was inside you properly.”
It was becoming difficult to breathe, but Lucifer looked and sounded like he was right on the edge, so Alastor obeys. Tears prick in the corner of his eyes and he looks up through his lashes to meet Lucifer's. All the while, he pictures being not on his knees, but on his back as Lucifer rocks into him at the same brutal pace.
His eyes roll back and he moans around Lucifer’s cock because God did that sound exquisite.
“Oh, fuck! Alastor, I'm gonna–!”
Hands in his hair yank him back just moments before Lucifer is coming, hot semen landing on his face, hair, and chest. His tongue manages to catch a few drops before Lucifer runs dry. He almost mourns the loss, he was becoming rather partial to the taste.
“Holy shit…” Lucifer lets his head fall back and slings an arm over his eyes as he tries to regain his breath. Alastor's eyes rake over him, meeting a sight he is much more familiar with: his partner sprawled and satisfied while he is left with his body wanting more.
As he watches Lucifer’s heavy breathing begin to slow, Alastor regains control over himself. His very obvious desire remains, but that's his problem to deal with on his own time. He will not let his unexpected lust for this man put his organization back into debt.
Sitting back on his heels, Alastor attempts to subtly cover himself as he clears his throat. “I assume our deal is fulfilled, then?”
Coming down to earth, Lucifer lets his arm fall away from his face and his head rolls to the front. He blinks once, then twice. “Hm? Oh, yeah, of course!”
He leans forward, hands grabbing at the fabric pooled at his ankles. Alastor expects Lucifer to fastidiously redress himself and make a quick exit, but instead, he leaves his pants on the ground in favor of extracting a small yellow handkerchief. He hands it over with a smile and a wink. “I'd be more than happy to take care of you, too.”
“I…” Alastor hesitantly accepts the cloth and wipes his face clean. He feels the throbbing of his erection, not quite concealed by his single available hand, Lucifer's thoughtful gesture not helping the matter. He swallows thickly.
The desire for another person, both mentally and physically, is there for the first time in Alastor's life, but… “That would put us back into the same indebted situation then, wouldn't it?”
“No?” Lucifer tips his head to the side, as if genuinely confused as to why Alastor would think such a thing. “I’m offering.”
Alastor eyes him skeptically.
Lucifer huffs, exasperated, and snatches the handkerchief back. Gently cupping Alastor’s jaw and tilting his head back, Lucifer delicately wipes away any remaining drops of semen that had been missed. “Alastor, I want to make you feel good, as long as it's something you want. Whatever way you want; hands, mouth, I'll even let you fuck me – and that's saying a lot because I don't bottom for many people!”
Alastor allows the cleaning but his eyes only narrow further. “Why?”
“Because I prefer to be the one on top, but if its–”
“No.” Alastor holds up one hand to stop Lucifer's explanation. “Why do you care about my satisfaction in this scenario? This was retribution, not an intimate coupling.”
“‘Cause despite how this all started, I do like making my partners come and that includes you.” He pauses to deliberately eye the barely concealed cock between Alastor’s legs. The confident smirk that splits Lucifer’s face is utterly insufferable. “Plus, I think you’ll be impressed enough to want me to do it again in the future.”
“Prideful, aren't you…” Alastor ducks away from the now-soiled handkerchief and mutters as he weighs his options.
He’s not particularly interested in Lucifer's offer to be on the receiving end. Alastor has played the role of the giving more than once and it's never been fulfilling. It must be some combination of his stature and demeanor that has people assuming his preferences, himself included. Perhaps he should allow Lucifer to assume the role instead.
In a flash, previous imagery floats back to the surface and turns vivid; Spread out on the messy interrogation room floor and speared on Lucifer’s cock, begging and whining as he’s being fucked into mindlessness. The carnal desire in his groin is almost painful at this point.
Embarrassed by his own thoughts, Alastor bites his lip and looks away. “Unfortunately, my preferred method is unavailable now that you're spent.”
Fingers on his jaw startle him. He hasn't heard Lucifer sliding off the chair to join him on the floor. Pearly white teeth and a confident smile meets his eyes. Cupping his face, Lucifer brings them together until they're nose to nose and whispers, “Oh with you? I’ll be back up in less than a minute, baby.”
All breath halts in his throat. Lucifer has the same satisfied face as a cat who finally caught a mouse. Alastor's face heats under the intense predator's stare. Feeling like prey is… much more arousing than he remembers.
Barely audible, Alastor whispers, “Very well.”
When Lucifer joins their lips again, there is no rush. The kiss is slow and saccharine and full of much more care than Alastor had come to associate with the deadliest man in New Pent City.
Their lips separate just long enough for Lucifer's sweet breath to ghost over Alastor's lips as he asks, “And just to be clear, you want me to fuck you, right?”
Alastor’s face heats further. “...Yes.”
The hand on his jaw tightens infinitesimally.
“Yes, what ?”
If Alastor thought his mind was scrambled earlier, any remaining brain power he might have had should now be considered completely obliterated.
“Yes, sir.”
Lucifer smirks and whispers, “There you go, pretty boy.”
A joining of lips later and Alastor finds himself lost and utterly consumed with nothing but lust. Teeth and tongue ravish his mouth before sliding to the sharp angle of his jaw. Skilled fingers make quick work of his skewed bowtie and rumpled button-down. Soon the bronze skin of his chest is exposed to pale, roaming hands.
When the rough pads of Lucifer’s thumbs brush over his nipples, Alastor gasps sharply, his pulse racing faster under Lucifer's tongue.
“Oh?” Lucifer mutters against his skin before retreating with a knowing demeanor. “Is someone sensitive?”
Alastor ducks his head to avoid looking at the shit-eating grin. No one in his past has ever paid much attention to his nipples. And why would they? It was hardly common foreplay to perform on men. But now?
He was unbelievably sensitive to it. So much so that when Lucifer gently pinches one, Alastor’s moan is practically a scream.
“Oh! Yes, you are!” Lucifer laughs and repeats the motion on the other bud. “I think I could make you come just from this.”
Bowing his head, Lucifer takes one of Alastor's nipples into his mouth. Intoxicating pleasure clouds Alastor’s head and it's all he can do to tangle his fingers in perfect gold hair and hang on for dear life.
‘Hot’ and ‘wet’ and ‘good’ are the only words floating through his head as Lucifer’s tongue lathes over him. At this rate he’ll have no choice but to yield to Lucifer’s request for more simple language.
Swapping to the other bud, Lucifer guides them both to the ground. His hands wander over warm skin, appreciating every curve and angle of Alastor's body on their way south. As rough fingertips meet curled brown pubic hair, Lucifer gives one final swirl of his tongue. “You sound really good, Alastor. I haven't known you long but I think I like you best when you're desperate for me.”
Thumbs trace the lines marking the join of Alastor's thighs and hips. When they reach the bottom, they brush against the base of his cock, still achingly hard and dripping pre-come onto his stomach. Those hands don’t provide any further attention, though. Instead, they continue to his thighs and encourage them to splay open.
“Lucifer, sir…” Alastor’s voice comes out raspier than he intends. “I should mention that I… I haven't…”
Lucifer shifts back, pulling both their pants completely off, before settling between Alastor's spread thighs. Pale fingers dance over the sensitive inner skin when Lucifer asks, “You haven't..?”
“I haven't– Or should I say, that while I've, ah, participated before, I-I've never,” Alastor struggles to say as Lucifer guides one of Alastor's calves to lay over his shoulder, warm brown against snow white. “I haven't played this role before.”
“You– Oh!” Lucifer's sensual half lidded gaze is immediately replaced by wide-eyed shock. Small patches of pink appear on pale cheeks and it's the first time he’s looked even remotely flustered this entire encounter. He spares a glance downward, Alastor sprawled and hard below him, before blushing further and stuttering, “If that's– Um, are you– I, uh…”
Before Alastor can say anything Lucifer's grip on his leg tightens. After a quick, steadying breath in and out, Lucifer starts again. “I understand and I am happy to be your first time if you still want me to fuck you, Alastor, but I just need you to confirm that this is something you want.”
Offense burns on Alastor's tongue. “I'm not some blushing virgin.”
“No, but you don't have to be a blushing virgin to not want your first time having a dick inside of you, to be on the floor.” Lucifer spares a glance at the door. “Is it wishful thinking to hope this place has a bedroom?”
Alastor wrinkles his nose. He has a rather short temper in regards to being treated like something fragile. “Very wishful. If you're worried about knee pain, just say as much, old man.”
“Excuse you!” Lucifer's head whips back to glare down at Alastor, heat back in his eye. The hand not on Alastor’s leg presses forcefully on the center of his chest. “My knees are just as young and spry as the rest of me.”
Lucifer leans down until his lips are by Alastor's ear and his cock lays fat and heavy between Alastor's legs. “If you want me to fuck you senseless on the floor like a filthy little whore, then it's your lucky day.”
Teasing lips return to his throat as Lucifer’s hands travel back down, stopping momentarily to swipe pre-come from where it had begun to pool onto his stomach. Alastor parts his thighs as wide as he can manage with one of his legs still hiked over Lucifer's shoulder. He may be substantially younger than Lucifer, but he is far from flexible.
The minorly painful stretch of his hamstrings is immediately smothered by the foreign feeling at the entrance to his body. Fingers tease the tight ring of muscle in circular, delicate motions.
The sensation is certainly… interesting. It's neither good nor bad, just a simple prelude for the main event. Alastor is still pondering the sensation when Lucifer mutters, “Alright, pretty boy, just stay nice and relaxed for me.”
The same instant that the teasing finger finally presses inside, Lucifer reattaches his mouth to Alastor’s nipple.
“ Oh… ” Alastor sucks in a breath, a confusing mix of pleasure and discomfort swirling behind his navel.
“You're doing well, Alastor,” Lucifer says as he swaps to the other nipple and presses his finger in deeper. “How are you feeling?”
Alastor’s brow furrows and he pushes up to rest on his elbows, his eyes trailing down Lucifer's arm to where it disappears between his legs. “It feels, ah, a little strange.”
Following the motion, Lucifer sits back on his heels and cracks a smile. “Yeah, I figured. Just hold on a second.”
With his free hand, Lucifer runs his fingers briefly over the head of Alastor’s cock, earning another gasping breath. He offers a brief, apologetic smile, but continues to transfer the slick pre-come to the finger slowly working its way in and out of Alastor. Newly lubricated, it begins searching.
Having done this himself more than once, Alastor knows exactly what Lucifer is searching for. That's said, nothing could have prepared him for just how fucking good it feels. He has no time to make any effort to suppress the loud, back-arching moan that rips through his body.
“There it is,” Lucifer coos. He brushes over Alastor's prostate one more time before spitting onto his hand and adding another finger. “God your fucking moans are music to my ears, Alastor.”
“Lu-Lucifer…” Collapsing back to the hardwood floor Alastor pants heavily as cycles of pleasure, pressure, and stretching wreck his body. Two fingers become three as he's worked open with spit and come acting as lubricant. It's absolutely filthy and, worse, he loves it . “Please, I… I won't last much longer.”
“Oh, I know, baby. Your cock hasn't stopped twitching and leaking since I started fingering you.” Lucifer vacates his hands and begins stroking himself instead. The erotic mix of bodily fluids leaves his cock slick and shiny. “And, lucky for you, I can't wait anymore either. It's not every day that I get to be someone's first – especially not someone like you.”
A shiver runs down Alastor's spine as the head of Lucifer’s dick presses like a promise against his entrance. “Someone like me?”
“Believe it or not, I don't go around fucking anyone who kidnaps me. You are one-of-a-kind, Alastor. A beautiful man with drive and wit and the voice of a succubus.” Lucifer smirks, his predator's gaze back in full force, and Alastor has never felt so lucky to be prey.
“Just a warning, this one night won't even take the edge off of my appetite for you. You can bet I'll be on my knees begging for you by this time tomorrow. You may be playing the submissive role tonight, but I am your servant. Now…” Lucifer rolls his hips, offering just a little more pressure. “Are you ready for me to be inside of you?”
Alastor turns his head to the side. There is a one hundred percent chance that his face is just a sheet of crimson blush. Avoiding eye contact, he mutters. “Just hurry up.”
Lucifer chuckles, ducks down quickly to press a sloppy, wet kiss to his cheek. “Your wish is my command.”
When the blunt head of Lucifer's cock pushes that first inch inside, Alastor's lungs become a vacuum. Progress is slow, but the stretch is undeniably immaculate. Three fingers were plenty to prepare him for Lucifer's size, but the sensation of that was nothing compared to this .
Inch by inch, Lucifer sinks inside. “Holy shit, Alastor… God, you're so fucking tight.”
Any ability Alastor might have had to formulate a response is immediately denied by pure satisfaction as Lucifer bottoms out. Fullness and pleasure warms Alastor from the inside out. Eager for even more contact, he wraps his arms around Lucifer's shoulders and drags him down to connect their lips once again.
The kiss is messy, but fulfills his overwhelming desire for closeness, at least for now. Hungry and needy, Alastor invites Lucifer's tongue into his mouth as his hips start to shift. Not only does it create delicious friction inside, it also gives his own neglected cock something to rut against.
The skin of Lucifer’s pale, taut stomach is nearly hairless and impossibly soft. Slick with pre-come, Alastor's cock glides beautifully against it as they undulate. It feels so good that tears prick at the corners of Alastor's eyes.
Too soon though, Lucifer sits up, leaving Alastor with his hands empty of golden hair and pale muscle. He kneels between bronze thighs like one of the old gods, worthy of every ounce of worship and praise he's ever received. And like the benevolent god he is, Lucifer starts moving.
Slowly he eases backwards until just the tip remains inside then slides back inside. When he repeats the motion, he angles his hips to reach a fraction deeper, aiming for the spot inside Alastor that will have him coming undone in a matter of seconds.
“Lucifer, sir, please…” Alastor throws a forearm over his eyes, and reaches for Lucifer with the other. “Please, I need more. I– Fuck, I’m not going to l-last, but I need more.”
Lucifer catches his hand and presses a kiss to the palm. “Needy little slut aren't you?”
Without thinking, Alastor nods.
Lucifer’s hips still.
When Alastor’s brain catches up to what he just admitted, he freezes. Hesitantly, he removes the arm hiding his face to peek at Lucifer. The shit-eating grin that meets his eyes has him groaning.
“So you are a needy little slut?” Lucifer tightens his grip on Alastor's hand, catches the other, and pins both to the floor on either side of Alastor's head. “A pretty little virgin whore, so tight and needy for the big bad Mafia boss.”
The next thrust has Alastor's eyes rolling to the back of his head. Setting a new pace, Lucifer whispers, “Don't be embarrassed, Alastor. There's nothing wrong with wanting that.”
The steadily increasing tempo makes it near impossible for Alastor to reply. All he can manage to say is, “Want… it.”
Like a switch, Lucifer’s pace turns from simply to fast to downright brutal. The force has Alastor folding nearly in half as Lucifer pounds into him. Gravel laces his voice, predatory and claiming, as he growls out, “You want it? Then you'll fucking have it .”
Relentless, rhythmic pistoning sends shockwaves of pleasure emanating throughout Alastor's body. Each thrust has Lucifer's cock stroking his prostate with unerring accuracy. “Lu— Lucifer, so c-close.”
“You first,” Lucifer growls, “I want to feel you clench around my fucking cock as you moan like the fucking slut you are and come all over yourself.”
Releasing one of Alastor's hands, Lucifer reaches instead to wrap around his largely neglected cock. At this point even just a loose grip would be enough to send Alastor sailing over the edge, but, ever generous, Lucifer gives so much more.
Focusing on the head, he makes short, tight strokes in tandem with the bucking of his hips. “Be my good little slut and come. Come for me, Alastor.”
“Oh, fuck, Lucifer, I'm going– Lucifer– !” Blinding white overtakes everything in Alastor's vision. Every second brings more and more pleasure and seems to last an eternity. Pure, unbridled euphoria utterly consumes him. It's made all the better as he hears Lucifer coming undone above him, his pace devolving into something sporadic and feral.
“Fuck, Alastor! God, you look so fucking good coming on my cock, holy– Fuck! God, Alastor–!”
One final thrust, Lucifer's hands gripping hard on Alastor's hips, and he comes for the second time that night. Warmth blooms inside Alastor and fills him so perfectly that he fears Lucifer might be correct. He does want this again.
Collapsing on top of him, cheek pressed against Alastor's chest, Lucifer releases a dreamy sigh. “Hey, Alastor?”
“Yes?”
Adjusting to be face to face, Lucifer smiles brightly, his smile full of mischief. “Do you mind having your guy kidnap me again?”
Against his better judgement, Alastor chuckles. “I suppose I can have that arranged.”