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“Do you think it’s okay to leave your dad with Alastor? They weren’t exactly on good terms.”
“Oh, they just need to talk,” she said casually while handing a set of keys to a new guest. “I mean, they were starting to get along, and it was only a little fight that happened.”
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“Open your mouth, Lu,” the Radio Demon murmured in a half-hearted attempt to rouse Lucifer. He held the spoon close to his lips, but got no reaction at all. Not like this morning, nor at lunchtime, when Lucifer had kept his eyes open and accepted a couple of bites before drifting off again.
The same thing had happened the previous day, when they’d assigned him the task of looking after him. A task he didn’t want to keep doing, but he was doing it anyway because it was the only job at the Hazbin Hotel that was even remotely “easy” right now, and Charlie had insisted —very persistently— that he be the one to do it.
“Looks like you went to sleep early today… I won’t push it,” he kept talking even though silence was going to be his only answer. He couldn’t stand the stillness that settled inside those four walls, especially not with Lucifer, who always had some biting remark ready for him. It felt strange; he even caught himself imagining that Lucifer was awake, listening to him talk to himself and deliberately not answering just to get under Alastor’s skin.
Damn little runt.
He glanced around for somewhere to set down the silver tray carrying the plate of food. The menu had been designed so Lucifer would get the nutrients he needed to regain his strength after all the blood he’d lost. He found the perfect spot on the nightstand beside the bed… except for that duck-shaped flashlight he despised. Without hesitation he shoved it aside roughly, leaving it teetering on the edge, practically begging to fall and shatter. If it happened, he’d just say it wasn’t on purpose and that he was only trying to do his nursing job properly by putting the food within the patient’s reach.
Then he turned back toward the bed.
Lucifer looked motionless, lying there as if he were dead, but Alastor could see his chest rising and falling with calm, steady breaths.
His own hands began to tingle, yet it was his left arm where the stabbing pain shot through his body. He’d come close to dying in that chase; Vox’s pet had put up a brutal fight, refusing to let him go and injuring him badly. In the middle of that pursuit, he’d felt an eerie sense of déjà vu: being hunted, then having a gun aimed at him, like some terrible omen that distracted him and broke his focus. He’d been weak. All of it because he let fear distract him.
He couldn’t be weak.
He wasn’t sure when his breathing had turned labored. He opened his mouth and drew in a deep gulp of air, trying to push away those thoughts that only brought bitter feelings. He already had enough physical pain to deal with; he didn’t need emotional pain on top of it.
After that night of chaos and those bizarre machines, the King of Hell had been left anemic, barely able to stand or string together a full sentence. Alastor couldn’t help but laugh with pure amusement when they had to drag him back to the hotel. They had tapped into his power; angelic blood had been the key ingredient to tear down Heaven’s defenses, threaten the souls of Heaven with war, and wield that same divine energy against Hell itself for far too long…
And just that caused him anemia?!
That damn angel really is powerful.
They had assigned him the task of looking after the king, who was now weak and drowsy from the blood loss caused by Vox’s machine. Alastor didn’t like it one bit; he was certain the princess had picked him because of the strange closeness that had been forming between her father and him. In the month they’d spent mourning Sir Pentious, while also preparing the hotel’s grand reopening, some very unexpected bonds had started to develop between the Radio Demon and the King of Hell.
That closeness they’d built had eventually been ruined by the king himself. Lucifer tended to act completely different whenever there was an audience: he became more annoying, provocative, and downright unpleasant, a far cry from those nights at the bar or the mornings when he was surprisingly calm and even tolerable to talk to. But the moment anyone else was around, he turned into an absolute pest. That had ended up getting on Alastor’s nerves, especially since at some point he had actually lowered his guard around Lucifer.
“Lucifer, can you hear me?” he asked, leaning over the bed. He watched closely for any reaction on that ethereal face: a grunt, a complaint, a furrowed brow. Anything.
He was patient. He waited several minutes, and there was no response at all.
A heavy, uncomfortable weight settled in his stomach. He swallowed; his throat was so dry it scratched. He reached for the tray and took a sip of water.
He turned his gaze back to the angel and leaned farther over the bed. Lucifer remained completely oblivious to everything around him, and now that Alastor noticed, he felt incredibly far away. He sighed. Carefully, he lifted one leg onto the bed, then the other, making sure the whole time that Lucifer stayed asleep. He settled on his knees and slowly inched forward until he was right beside him.
His gaunt appearance was undeniable; he looked sick, cheeks and lips a pale pink, yet sleep lent him a calmer air than his actual state warranted. He breathed slowly, drawing air through that tiny, almost nonexistent nose… Alastor realized he was lingering far too long on that celestial face in its most vulnerable moment.
“I don’t know why I’m doing this,” he told himself, even though he did know.
The night before, he had watched the angelic being lying in bed, captivated by that almost sickly beauty and the false fragility his drowsiness projected. While watching him, he had come up with a plan; he wasn’t entirely sure it would work. Sometimes he acted rashly on his improvised schemes, yet things usually turned out fine anyway. He only hoped his streak of good luck would hold a little longer.
He pressed the palms of his hands into the mattress so he wouldn’t collapse on top of the angel and ruin everything. He leaned in even closer, crossing the boundary of personal space, until their breaths grazed and mingled, until he could feel the warmth radiating from their bodies—especially from the sleeping angel’s body, which gave off heat like a small flame of light.
Lucifer didn’t seem to notice his closeness. Nothing could stop him now.
Alastor’s heart pounded wildly in his chest, as if trying to escape the room. He had never done anything like this before; he had never even felt the urge. Yet now he wondered why this made him more nervous than anything else ever had. He just wanted to taste a little, to steal a little of the affection he hadn’t been able to get from Lucifer before. He wanted a piece of Lucifer the same way he wanted a piece of his power.
He clenched his jaw, held his breath, and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to feel exposed by lowering his guard like this, but it was something he had read many years ago while flipping through a magazine in a waiting room, a tiny section about intimacy and kissing.
Then he let his lips meet Lucifer’s. It was a chaste kiss. A simple brush. Nothing more.
It wasn’t what he expected. There was no avalanche of unpleasant emotions, no immediate revulsion like he had imagined he’d feel kissing Lucifer. It was strange to feel those dry lips against his own, stiff, trembling, frozen, almost lifeless. Alastor didn’t pull away; he stayed pressed against the king’s mouth, forming an image so absurd he hated it with every fiber of his being.
He cursed every demon he knew and every soul in this hell. He cursed that sleeping angel in particular.
A faint puff of air escaped Lucifer.
Alastor jerked back instantly, ready to melt into the shadows, but he saw that Lucifer was still asleep—deeply asleep. Sprawled on the bed, he let out a soft sigh through his slightly parted lips.
Alastor swallowed hard and leaned in again.
This time, with their lips parted, he could taste the inside of Lucifer’s mouth. The king had an unmistakable flavor of apple pie with cinnamon. A taste Alastor wasn’t particularly fond of, yet he had no problem continuing to sample it. He didn’t stop; clumsy and inexperienced as he was, his lips began to move over the angel’s, tasting more, seeking more.
He sighed, reminding himself he still had to breathe while keeping the kiss, which made the whole thing far more difficult. His rhythm became methodical, hard to maintain when his arms ached from holding up his own weight; his body grew tense from the discomfort of the position—his legs were starting to tingle with a mild cramp, and his neck hurt.
Minutes passed… and then it happened.
A surge of emotion shot through his body like lightning. Electrifying. Unexpected. The apple taste in his mouth grew stronger, almost burning his senses.
“Mhm… ngh…” he murmured, trying to pull away from the sudden reaction his body was having. Endorphins acted like a sedative, dragging him into a state that was excited, powerful, and vulnerable all at once. He tried to move back—or thought he did—but he only sank deeper into that exquisite flavor.
“Get away… move, damn it.”
The words echoed in his head like an alarm meant to jolt his body into action, but nothing happened. He didn’t move at all. No matter how much he thought it, no matter how hard he tried to command his limbs, nothing. It was Lucifer’s energy holding him there, almost in a trance where his reason hadn’t yet clouded over. Not until one of his own shadows intervened and shoved him away from the king.
Alastor lay sprawled on the bed, panting, struggling to regain control of his limbs. He sat up feeling his own body as though it belonged to someone else, yet a faint energy still coursed through him completely; his lips were wet, hot, tingling… with the lingering taste on his palate of the most delicious thing he had ever tried.
His trembling fingers touched his lips. He immediately glanced to the side, terrified he had woken the monarch, but Lucifer was still sleeping peacefully. His breathing was calm, and his lips were slightly glistening—thanks to him.
An unexpected wave of shame crept across his face, along with a discomfort in his underwear that left him dizzy and confused. With hurried, clumsy caution, he climbed off the bed. He didn’t want to be caught in such a deplorable state, much less stay near Lucifer after what the angel had done to his body.
He got down from the bed and froze, unsure what to do first—whether to grab his microphone or the tray of cold food before fleeing. His movements were the clumsiest he’d ever made, but he managed to pull himself together after hesitating for several seconds. He walked to the door and practically fled the room.
Only when he reached his own bedroom, finally free from fighting his body over those unexpectedly irritating reactions, did he notice it.
The pain in his arm was completely gone. It still looked awful, but beneath the soaked bandages the bleeding had stopped entirely. He stared at the discovery in bewilderment. He hadn’t known something like that was possible, much less that the king possessed such power.
The next day, the demon took his time before showing up in the king’s room. He wandered the hallways all morning, avoiding the kitchen where the breakfast tray for Lucifer waited, but he was forced to fulfill his duty when Charlie found him in the afternoon and placed the tray in his hands. He walked toward the king’s quarters without showing a hint of weakness, his smile already in place as a shield in case Lucifer dared mention anything—if he had even been conscious—about the night before…
Alastor would kill him.
He didn’t know how, or with what, but he would.
When he opened the door, the first thing that hit him was the overwhelming light, as if the warm sun had burst into the room, as though they weren’t in Hell where the sky is red. He walked to the bed and saw that Lucifer was awake. Alastor felt the king’s gaze never leaving him, those bored eyes tracking his every move until he was right beside the bed. The demon set the tray on the nightstand. This time he refused to let last night’s shame get to him and, pretending a calm he didn’t feel, prepared to feed him.
“I don’t like that…” Lucifer grumbled as the smell of vegetables reached his face. His expression immediately scrunched up and he turned his head away like a child refusing his greens.
Alastor was outraged by the reaction. He was stuck dealing with a cranky old man, and of all the beings in this hotel, he should not be the one doing it. Still… there was a small pleasure in annoying Lucifer without even trying.
“You don’t have to like it. You’ll get better if you eat this,” he said firmly, holding a spoonful in front of the king’s lips.
Lucifer had no choice but to open his mouth. If he didn’t, he knew Alastor would seize any attempt to speak as an opening to shove the food in by force; besides, it was impossible to keep the deer quiet when he was nearby. A sound of utter disgust soon followed, along with a little shudder that Alastor couldn’t care less about. He took another spoonful and fed it to him immediately.
“I’d feel a lot better if you brought me some apple pancakes with chopped apples and maple syrup… the ones you make,” he said in a weak voice, but the mischief was clear in his words. He made a feeble attempt to lift his arm to touch the demon; Alastor pulled away.
“I thought I heard you say they were disgusting,” he replied. Another careless spoonful of vegetable soup hit Lucifer’s palate, lightly knocking his teeth, and the same complaining routine repeated, though this time it wasn’t as dramatic as the first.
“It’s just… they were really good,” he sighed, defeated. “I didn’t want to admit it.”
“You didn’t have to say it; it was obvious from the way you devoured them that time.” Alastor rolled his eyes at the king’s sudden honesty. “You’re awfully chatty today, aren’t you?”
“I’m feeling more lively than yesterday…” He smiled, accepting a little more food; this time it didn’t taste quite so bad.
“When you’re better… maybe I’ll make them,” he muttered while preparing another spoonful, trying not to look at the faint smile Lucifer gave him.
The atmosphere lightened; they noticed it when the minutes flew by in conversation about the hotel and how things were going outside that duck-filled room. Alastor didn’t have much to say about the rest; he had no interest in socializing with sinners he considered annoying and beneath him. Maybe that was why taking care of Lucifer felt easier than serving the hotel’s other guests; he’d rather leave that job to Niffty or Vaggie.
“Alastor, when Vox…” Tension hit instantly; those words rattled the Radio Demon so hard the spoon clattered dully against the plate.
“I think you’ve finished everything,” he cut the king off abruptly. Lucifer looked at him with desolate eyes, hoping for a chance to speak, but the glare Alastor gave him was enough to silence any further attempt. “See you later.”
Lucifer looked away, glaring at the ceiling in resignation at being unable to continue the conversation they’d just been having with an ease that his own mouth had now severed. He knew that if he kept pushing the subject, Alastor might avoid him entirely rather than face it. Those closest to him knew Alastor never spoke about his time in captivity; he bragged about having outsmarted Vox, yes, but he never mentioned what happened when no one was watching, when the cameras didn’t capture his moments alone with the other overlord.
Lucifer hated that silence. The uncertainty about what had really happened haunted him like a waking nightmare. Had he really gone to save him just because of that brief closeness? He would never know. He never even tried.
Hours raced by until night fell. The hotel felt much more alive despite Angel Dust’s absence, which usually filled the place with energy; now more sinners roamed the lobby. The residents tried to talk peacefully and avoid trouble to improve coexistence, but it didn’t go as planned and ended in arguments and shouting. Alastor passed the group of sinners and simply picked up the solitary dinner tray waiting for him. He continued on his way, unbothered by the brewing problems and leaving the rest to Vaggie. The red demon had no patience for the others right now, not when his arm was starting to hurt again like it had a few nights ago.
The king’s saliva had worked wonders as a relaxant in his body; the wound remained open, but it hadn’t bled at all, letting him go through the rest of his routine day (aside from Lucifer feeding him in the morning and afternoon) without any pain. Yet now it was dinnertime, and Alastor felt terribly irritated by the burning stabs in his arm. That meant he had to repeat the same procedure as the night before.
This time he had no intention of wasting time. When he entered the room, he hurried to set everything near the nightstand and climbed onto the bed to make sure Lucifer was asleep. Large red eyes watched the king for one… three… five minutes until he saw no movement indicating he might wake up.
There was no reaction, so he settled onto the bed and took a deep breath.
He was doing this again. He already knew what he was facing and had to stay strong.
He leaned toward Lucifer and began kissing him once more, clumsily moving his lips against the king’s motionless ones. He tried not to linger this time; he didn’t want to waste any more time than necessary on a mission where he absolutely could not be discovered. His teeth got in the way during the kiss; no matter how hard he tried to keep them back, they still interfered, but there was nothing he could do about it now; he just had to take what he needed and ignore the rest.
Then he felt it again: the intense sweet taste in his mouth, Lucifer’s miraculous essence flooding in, his saliva tasting even more delicious than he remembered, more addictive now that he’d reached it faster. He shifted forward on his knees, sliding easily across the bed, closing the distance between them until he was practically draped over the sleeping king’s body.
He felt his own body reacting, more awake and far more excited. The pain in his arm was already fading; it was working. A happy moan escaped his mouth, and he hoped he wouldn’t be caught.
His mouth was hot. Alastor’s body began to respond with small spasms in his joints, his muscles tingling with anticipation. That was when the idea came to him to climb fully onto Lucifer’s body for better comfort. He only thought it, but when his legs pressed together he felt a jolt of pleasure from doing so. He squeezed them again as pulses shot straight to his already-wet cunt.
His heart pounded hard; a sharp pang twisted through his belly and raced all the way down to his sex. That was new.
Finally he pulled away. His shadow came to his rescue again, because when he tried to do it on his own it proved impossible.
He shrugged off his red coat and tossed it aside, rolling up his sleeve to remove the bandages and inspect the hideous wound. No more blood was seeping out, and he could see it had healed just a few centimeters more since he’d started this “treatment.”
Lucifer’s saliva worked as medicine, but it wasn’t enough to close the wound completely. Was it the amount of time? Or did Lucifer simply not have enough power right now? What was he even saying? Lucifer had power to spare. Enough to fuel a machine.
So what was missing? Time?
He could think about it later, back in his room. Now that he was fine he should leave. Yet he still didn’t want to go. A thrill was coursing through his body, urging him to take more of Lucifer’s essence. He paused to consider: he had eaten exorcists before, he knew their taste, and their blood was different from any other, but it was never this intense, never carried the power to heal wounds. Otherwise his chest would have scarred over weeks ago.
Perhaps it was because Lucifer was a different kind entirely. A seraphim, to be precise.
He looked at the king, still asleep, lips glistening from the kiss, completely out.
He ran his tongue over his lips, moistening them. He feels his senses sharpen—or is it just his heart pounding too fast? He wants to keep tasting, even though his wound no longer hurts; he wants to feel more of that mouth against his own, wants the king’s hands to roam his body however they please and to grind his hips against Lucifer’s.
It was a desire he’d felt before. Long before Vox had captured him. Long before Lucifer had started acting like an indifferent king around him.
The demon’s body shifted a little farther onto the bed. He was certain Lucifer wouldn’t wake for anything; he had the advantage.
One long leg swung over Lucifer’s body until he was fully straddling him. The position felt familiar. He and Lucifer had been like this once before. One night, weeks ago, after fleeing the bar, they had ended up in a room to continue their fake argument. The flames of tequila and vodka had stoked the fire between them. They never kissed; doing so seemed like it would shatter the illusion between two drunkards who only drew close with the pretense of fighting. There were no blows; Lucifer couldn’t strike because of his divine punishment —that was how Alastor had found out—, so Alastor had taken control of the king.
He had climbed on top of Lucifer and pinned him to the floor of the room. The king had done nothing, hadn’t even tried to escape, just made a pathetic attempt to wriggle free while shifting his hips to push him off. Yes, a very unwise move from a drunkard, especially when it only led to the consequences of thrusting up against the demon.
Alastor had felt ashamed then and pulled away immediately.
Now, in the same position again, he wouldn’t run this time. He didn’t want to.
This time the desire to continue burned stronger. So he carefully lowered his hips until they rested on the monarch’s pelvis, a spark of perversity flaring as he did it. He could feel the other body beneath him, Lucifer’s hips trapped between his thighs. The sensation of something soft and yielding against his intimacy made him want to move, to grind his hips until he felt even more.
His cunt grew wetter. He felt the warmth inside his trousers, separated only by the blanket and the pajamas covering Lucifer’s body.
He leaned down gently, savoring the feeling of the other body pressed against his, feeling Lucifer’s chest rise and fall against his own with every breath. His legs stayed spread, resting over the blond’s lap, but he rolled his hips with dark, teasing intent. He wanted that swelling, pulsing flesh against his ass.
He leaned in toward the king’s lips once more; this time he wanted it to last longer. Their mouths met and Alastor let out a sound of satisfaction against the other’s lips. A rush of emotions flooded him as he kissed Lucifer; it was too soon for that electric current he’d felt before, yet this felt faster, more genuine, leaving him sighing with happiness into the kiss. The small, fluffy tail hidden beneath his clothes whipped back and forth eagerly, betraying his excitement.
He wanted to feel everything, everywhere. He wanted his body to know this pleasure that was shaking him more and more. In this position he was far more comfortable, grinding his hips heavily against the king’s cock, feeling it grow harder and harder with every roll. His body ached for it.
Once again the electric sensation tore through him, his excitement overwhelming.
Lost in pleasure, he didn’t notice the pair of large hands sliding up his sides, settling on his thighs to caress him with devotion; those hands were gentle as they touched him, gliding softly over his legs as if slowly realizing what was on top of him.
Lucifer’s head was spinning. His eyes opened heavily, still clouded with sleep, but he forced himself to stay awake. The aching throb of his hard cock made him sigh against Alastor’s mouth. That alone was enough to keep him conscious.
He blinked several times. The pale hands tried to grip and calm the delicious rocking of that ass, the soft friction that was making his cock leak into his pants. Lucifer Morningstar had no idea what the hell had happened while he was out.
He had questions (so many questions) that melted away with every second the inexperienced mouth let out passionate little sighs. No, he couldn’t stop him. Not when Alastor was working so hard for his own pleasure, possibly the first time he had ever wanted something this physical.
The King of Hell tried to keep playing the sleeping man; he really tried to maintain the ruse so he could enjoy Alastor giving in to his impulses. But staying still was impossible. He had to hold him to slow those fervent movements, and little by little he began to follow the rhythm of the wet kiss his caretaker was giving him.
Because Lucifer loved kisses.
He loved the intimacy they offered, how they could turn into something far hungrier that might escalate to… well, situations exactly like this one.
Lucifer hadn’t kissed anyone in ages. He hadn’t been interested in dating after the divorce, but he liked what he was feeling now: that passion, the fire racing through his insides, intent on going further, on consuming everything. Lucifer couldn’t be more willing with the demon he currently had in his clutches.
Alastor had become the object of his desire. With that refined, haughty attitude toward everyone else, the way he wormed into his thoughts and annoyed him. Lucifer couldn’t get him out of his head —and he didn’t want to—, especially not when he had him right on top of him.
Lucifer kept the lustful demon in check with a loose grip; Alastor didn’t notice. He chalked the sensations up to the effect of the king’s saliva, especially the hands roaming his ass and shamelessly squeezing his thighs. He blamed his own arousal, convinced his mind was lost in delirium, imagining those lips moving against his own, hungry, greedy, wanting to take everything they could from him.
Alastor held nothing back. He sighed and moaned like he was singing, and that was the sweet melody that enthralled the king, who was already soaking his pants with pre-come like a teenager having a wet dream.
This can’t happen like this, Lucifer thought. He fought himself, torn between surrendering and becoming a slave to pleasure or facing the demon. The voice of reason chose the harder (and correct) option. He had no choice.
“Mmm…!”
“Bambi makes the cutest sounds,” he said sincerely. The demon’s fluffy ears twitched at the sudden sound of his voice.
“Lu… Lucifer?” His eyes were clouded with the haze of arousal; he had been completely lost when the kiss turned more demanding, overwhelming his senses. The sinner sighed and tried to pull away once he finally met the king’s attentive gaze.
Lucifer held him fast, refusing to let him escape; his arms wrapped around Alastor’s body and kept him captive.
“No, no thinking about running, Bambi,” his voice sounded breathless; he was still recovering from that moment of bliss to speak normally. “Don’t run anymore.”
“I couldn’t anyway… I feel… strange,” he admitted in resignation, letting his head drop to the side against Lucifer’s neck, hiding his face there. The demon’s legs felt weak, a little sore, and slightly sticky. “It’s not what it looks like.”
“I’m pretty sure five minutes ago you were enthusiastically grinding on me, just like you did yesterday,” he heard the other man let out an indignant bleat, which Lucifer found hilarious. “Yeah, I knew. I was unconscious, not asleep.”
“Then why didn’t you say anything?”
“Are you seriously asking? I was being a good victim, wasn’t I cooperating?” he replied with obvious amusement, a pleased smile spreading across his face. “I can say I was enjoying it as much as you were.”
“Don’t get any ideas… I was just healing my wound.” He lifted his head from the comfortable chest and showed his arm as proof. Lucifer made a face of distaste, but then looked disturbed when Alastor tugged his shirt open (popping a few buttons in the process) to expose a deep chest wound.
“Awful,” he said, looking away. “Still, I didn’t imagine a little angelic grace would get you this worked up.”
“You’re just spouting nonsense to stroke your own ego. Like I said, I’m only taking advantage of the situation.”
“There was no healing happening while you were getting off on top of me, Alastor,” he pointed out bluntly, killing the demon’s mood. Alastor shifted slightly and became acutely aware of how soaked his crotch felt, and of the cock beneath him that was hard as a rock. Lucifer caught the way Alastor bit his lower lip. “Just admit you wanted it. That it turned you on.”
“Not in a million years,” he replied, glaring seriously at that smug face gloating in silent victory. “Now let me go.”
“Leaving already? I haven’t eaten yet and I’m starving,” he teased. Alastor gave up and let his head fall back onto the king’s chest like it was his personal pillow.
Both men fell silent, breathing calmly in the room. Lucifer snapped his fingers to dim the lights; his eyes were burning, and the brightness would give him a headache if it continued. Alastor, meanwhile, was entranced listening to the angel’s heartbeat. It was strange to have a celestial being this close, so unreal… Hell itself often felt unreal.
He had always known he’d end up in Hell. He never thought he’d meet the Devil.
Still, he felt peace having him near. No insults, no biting words, no judging eyes to witness their closeness. Alastor felt his heart clench.
“I missed having you here,” the king said, making his caretaker tense in his arms.
“Don’t say stupid things. Once you’re better, everything will go back to how it was,” he answered bitterly, yet he still tried to savor the moment with Lucifer.
“I’m not trying to go back to how things were. Look, Alastor… I want to apologize for acting like an idiot. I was selfish. I just want to try again—”
The Radio Demon tried to stifle his amusement, but failed. A soft laugh echoed in the room, and Lucifer waited patiently for it to fade.
He can’t be serious, the sinner thought for a moment, feeling like he’d lived through something like this before. The bittersweet sting of a confession was annoying. Alastor lowered his head, waiting for the right moment to turn him down… but he couldn’t.
This was different. Vox’s confession had been hilarious. He hadn’t expected it from the man, so he crushed those feelings without a second thought because they meant nothing.
But Lucifer… always seemed intent on following him everywhere, even when they hated each other. Relishing his presence in those moments when they were alone, when there were no fights or arguments. Alastor cleared his throat, returning to his usual smile, though this time it felt far less steady.
Why am I even considering this? His heart was racing from everything, the earlier euphoria already fading, dragging him back into complicated reality, into feelings he didn’t want to face.
“Feeling this way again after so long… it scared me,” Lucifer said bravely. His own emotions were running wild, his heart pounding so hard Alastor could hear it. The demon curled smaller against Lucifer’s chest. “I don’t want to keep bottling my feelings, not when I can’t control them around you.”
“You’re such a sap…” Alastor sighed, hands covering his face as burning shame flooded his cheeks. “Ugh, Lucifer, I hate you so much.”
“Yeah…”
“This is ridiculous. You can’t just say things like that.”
“I know.”
“Then why do you?” he asked, voice trembling with barely-contained frustration in those arms. “I feel weird. All of this… you’re a fucking idiot.”
“I think you already said that.” Lucifer gently took one of Alastor’s hands and pulled it away from his face so he could look into those confused red eyes and equally flushed cheeks. “I know… you want this too. Otherwise we wouldn’t have gotten this far. I want to make you happy. I want to make up for the hurt I caused you.”
“If that’s true, would anything actually change?” he asked defensively, deer-like eyes studying him closely.
“Yes. It would change everything. You’d have the place you deserve. We need to talk about this, but we’ll take it slow.” The gentle smile Lucifer offered soothed his uncertainty.
“If you do anything, Lucifer Morningstar—if you ever deny me or put that annoying sign back on your door—I will drain every drop of blood from your body,” he threatened darkly, antlers growing as his face twisted into something sinister.
“That won’t happen. But if I ever do something stupid, I’ll get on my knees myself so you can,” he promised. Alastor had no choice but to believe the angel’s words.
The demon narrowed his eyes, searching for deceit, for any hint of a lie in those confident words. The promise felt genuine. Lucifer’s eyes looked at him softly, tenderness seeping through and bringing calm.
“Fine. Now that you’ve got me… loosen your grip a little. My chest hurts,” he said with a pained grimace.
Lucifer relaxed his hold and watched Alastor sit up in his lap. A flash of discomfort and pain crossed the demon’s face.
“I thought you’d taken enough of my essence,” Lucifer said when he saw blood dripping from the chest wound, staining part of his pajamas.
“Apparently not… it hurts.” Alastor undid more buttons as the shirt began to soak through, not wanting to ruin it further when it was already tattered.
“I’ll call Charlie. She definitely has something for this,” he said hurriedly, summoning his phone into his hand and starting to look for his daughter’s contact. Alastor’s hand stopped him, took the device, and let it fall to the side of the bed. “Al…?”
“I thought you, you know… had a way to heal me.” He rolled his hips gently to make his meaning clear. Immediately, Alastor looked away, trying to escape the king’s surprised stare. “Don’t you have any ideas?”
“Hmm, I could give you my blood, but, you know, anemia,” he said thoughtfully, though he was considering it. “Though there’s another way, but that’s… no, no.” He shook his head. “That would be way more intimate. We’d be skipping the dating phase and—”
Alastor’s hands shook him.
“Lu… I want to heal my wound,” he said, a deep blush painting his face. “However…”
“Oh…” Now it was the king’s turn to flush yellow. “W-well… if you want to try…”
“I do,” he said firmly, pulling the blankets off Lucifer and pushing them aside. The devil swallowed hard; the determined look his companion gave him felt like it could devour him whole. “You’ll help me…?”
Lucifer’s cock had softened a little, forgotten during their serious conversation, but it only took that sinful suggestion and the warm hand of the sinner stroking his erection through the fabric. He moaned, loud and clear, at the gentle touch. Alastor smiled, satisfied.
“Of course,” Lucifer said. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of his pink-and-white striped pajama pants and tugged them down to mid-hip. No need to change positions; Alastor clearly liked being on top.
Lucifer snapped his fingers and vanished the demon’s trousers.
Both men sighed as their bare skin finally met, burning against each other after the earlier grinding had left them a mess. Lucifer’s cock slid easily between Alastor’s folds, savoring how the wet folds coated him with the demon’s natural slick. He moved slowly (almost torturously), wanting to savor the way Alastor trembled in anticipation as the head of his cock dragged along the entire length of his cunt until it brushed his clit, teasing the bundle of nerves and drawing a shaky sigh from the demon.
Their hands met. The demon gave a soft squeeze when the tip seemed to drift the wrong way, sliding up his cunt until it pressed against his entrance, which clenched around nothing. He was anxious, but he wanted this.
Their eyes locked, raw longing in both gazes. Lucifer silently begged with a pleading look, asking permission to enter. He was so close to sinking into that heat, teasing the entrance with short, impatient thrusts. Alastor nodded, granting permission, and took a deep breath, bracing himself for what was coming.
The demon knew it would hurt. He’d had the misfortune of hearing Mimzy’s explicit tales about her encounters with men and how rough they’d been. Not exactly helpful information now that he was in this position, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He hadn’t expected his own experience to be any different.
And when Lucifer’s cock finally pushed into him, the first thing he felt was discomfort—not as much pain as he’d feared, but still the relentless stretch of that thick shaft forcing him open, filling his tight, untouched heat. He had never done this before.
It slid in without restraint, making him clench his teeth. A deep whine escaped his throat, and Lucifer froze instantly. Alastor needed a few minutes to adjust; he had to get used to the intrusion or he wouldn’t be able to go on. The pain slowly ebbed, but the strange sensation of being so utterly filled remained. Still, he pushed himself further and finally yielded, feeling Lucifer’s cock throb harder with every inch that sank into him.
“You’re doing so well, Bambi. You’ll get used to it soon,” Lucifer murmured encouragingly. Alastor’s ears were flattened, trembling along with his thighs.
“No… I can’t,” he panted, looking down to where their bodies joined: Lucifer buried completely inside him, the two of them connected in the most intimate way imaginable. It was incredible—a breathtaking and bizarre sight.
At a glance from the demon, Lucifer began to move. Alastor was riding him, giving the king full freedom to thrust upward and bottom out, setting a slow, deliberate rhythm. Lucifer growled in bliss; his cock was enveloped by those tender, virgin walls that gripped him tight, begging him to stay and keep driving in. The demon sighed—the odd sensation lingered, but pleasure hid beneath every roll of hips.
“Fuck, it feels so good… shit, nhhh,” Alastor gasped, completely lost as the king’s cock struck a sensitive spot deep inside that stole his breath and drowned him in pleasure.
“Alastor…” Lucifer thrust harder, breaking the gentle rhythm and tearing a broken moan from the demon’s lips.
“Oh—oh—Lu—Lu—”
“Feeling good, darling?” he asked with a small smile, focused on keeping the pace. He watched every reaction: Alastor’s trembling grin, his eyes fluttering unfocused.
“Ah! N—no way—!” he cried as a finger pressed against his swollen, red, aching clit. His back arched with a strangled whine. He rocked instinctively, nerves firing in time with the devil’s hips. “I—I feel—”
“Bambi… don’t hold back,” Lucifer panted, repeating the name like a prayer.
The closeness, the passion, the friction of their fevered bodies—these were things Lucifer had forgotten years ago. Being intimate with Alastor was incredible. He couldn’t stop, not with that slick, juicy cunt—so wet and soft—swallowing the king’s cock whole.
He felt pure bliss. His hips kept driving into that glorious entrance, velvet walls fluttering around him. He didn’t care that his head was spinning; he blamed the heat in the room. He wouldn’t stop—not until they’d consumed this carnal act completely.
“Lu…” Alastor couldn’t stay upright anymore and collapsed onto Lucifer’s chest. In this new position he could only whimper as his thighs took the full force of the opposing hips, the lewd slap of skin on skin echoing in the raw, primal pursuit of release.
Lucifer didn’t slow down. No matter how many broken bleats Alastor let out, it only spurred him on—along with the soft kisses along his jaw and the hot, ragged breath tickling his neck that ignited him in a way nothing else could. Lucifer grabbed a fistful of Alastor’s hair and pulled him into a desperate, starving kiss until they broke apart gasping for air.
“I can feel you in my stomach…” Alastor said shakily, unnerved by the pressure deep in his belly—he was certain it was the king’s cock pressing so far inside. “Fuck—Lu—Lu—Lucifer—” he stuttered.
It’s deeper—so much deeper! I feel so full… I can’t, something’s coming—
You’re splitting me in two, I’m feeling everything!
The king’s pale hand slipped between them again, finding that swollen, hypersensitive bundle of nerves that drove Alastor wild. His body arched instantly at the touch; Lucifer rubbed deliberately, intent on shattering him completely. Alastor’s cries turned to pleas, sparks crackling from his failing voice modulator until it was forgotten entirely.
The demon clawed at the sheets, trying to cling to control, but whatever restraint he had left snapped. He spread his legs wider and surrendered to the overwhelming orgasm that crashed over him like a tidal wave—ecstasy unlike anything he’d felt before.
“Your Majesty!!”
I have to be careful… I can’t come inside him, the king thought, even through the thick haze of pleasure.
“Alastor, I need to pull out—”
“Oh shit, don’t you—don’t you dare,” Alastor snarled, eyes blazing with an unfinished threat.
The king couldn’t hold back any longer. The demon’s cunt clenched around him in violent, repeated spasms, shattering what little control Lucifer still had. Then, suddenly, Alastor came again—his second orgasm ripping through him without warning. He screamed his king’s name as his body convulsed, climaxing in a messy, uncontrollable flood: a hot jet of Alastor’s release splashed across Lucifer’s abdomen, soaking his skin.
The trembling demon tried to clamp his thighs shut, mortified at how exposed he felt by his own body’s shameless reaction.
That sight alone—that beautiful, wrecked, dripping mess—was what finally undid the monarch.
Lucifer kept thrusting into that wet, gripping hole that refused to let him go. He meant to pull out—he really did—but his body had other plans. Pleasure tore through him as he finally spilled inside the demon. Alastor’s tight, sweet cunt drained every last drop, taking all of his seed deep inside.
“Holy glory…”
Alastor sighed. The massive cock buried in him throbbed against his oversensitive walls, pulsing as it pumped its thick load into him like that was the only place it belonged. His belly felt hot. Above all, full.
Incredibly full.
He glanced down and saw the small, noticeable bulge that had formed—not huge, but unmistakable on his slim frame. He exhaled, stunned. He could feel it: Lucifer’s cum flooding him in heavy spurts.
“M-my belly…” His voice was shocked. A little swell was clearly visible, rising from him. “W-why so much?”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Lucifer said sheepishly. He looked utterly wrecked: sweaty, pajama top hanging open, chest exposed, golden hair sticking out in every direction from their frantic activity. Everything about Lucifer screamed sex, and Alastor swallowed hard. “Too many years of abstinence, I guess…”
“Just… shut up.” He collapsed onto Lucifer’s chest. He didn’t want to think about how debauched he must look after surrendering to something so filthy.
Alastor was breathing hard. His body felt heavy from what they’d just done, yet strangely a wave of pleasure still coursed through him as Lucifer’s cock softened inside. He was exhausted, his entire body aching, but oddly invigorated—like he could walk out of this room and pick a fight with any sinner he wanted. A kind of euphoria he’d never experienced before.
The adrenaline was low, but he could still feel it under his skin. Something he could ignore.
Ugh, but my body… Alastor thought, completely spent.
“Looks like your wound’s healed,” Lucifer said, breaking the silence and pulling Alastor from the edge of sleep. Alastor lifted himself slightly and saw that Lucifer’s eyes were closed, looking drowsy—how had he even noticed the wound?
“A little angelic grace and you’re good as new,” the king added.
“You’re a box full of surprises,” Alastor said heavily. “First you work as a fully-charged battery, now you heal sinners.”
“My energy is divine; it has all sorts of uses,” he shrugged, as if it were no big deal. “Though I didn’t know it could be used as a battery. That was painfully new.”
“You really are useful,” Alastor said with sudden enthusiasm. Lucifer cracked one eye open to see the excitement on the demon’s face.
He looked sinfully breathtaking, chest completely bare.
“Come on, Bambi. I’ve still got a little more energy for another round…” Lucifer shifted, grabbing Alastor by the waist, and both of them rolled into a new position: Lucifer looming over the Radio Demon, who stared up at him with sudden worry. It didn’t take a genius to read the filthy intent in the king’s eyes.
“W-wait, I’m exhausted… Lu, ugh!” Alastor hadn’t even realized Lucifer’s cock was still inside him, plugging all that thick cum deep in his belly. When they moved, it slipped out shamelessly, spilling down his skin and making a complete mess of his thighs. “That’s disgusting…”
“Bambi…” Lucifer purred. Alastor could only manage a nervous grin at what was coming, secretly thrilled, until he noticed something off. Lucifer was on top of him, but he looked unsteady, swaying, struggling to stay conscious. Alastor couldn’t do anything before the king collapsed onto the soft fur of his chest, fighting to keep his eyes open. “Uhhh, what…?”
“Need I remind you that you have anemia?” Alastor scolded, mortified to be witnessing this. He gently pushed Lucifer off and laid him back where he’d been before. “Now you’re going to sleep, and no more of this until you’re fully recovered.”
The king let out a childish whine—he clearly hated the idea—but Alastor had spoken.
“Promise me… you’ll be here when I wake up,” Lucifer mumbled, eyes closing against his will. “That you’ll wait until I’m awake to kiss me… don’t do it while I’m asleep or I won’t be able to kiss you back…”
Alastor laughed softly, a gentle chuckle at Lucifer’s drowsy, stubborn worry as he fought to stay awake.
After that day, things changed at the hotel. It took about a week for Lucifer to fully recover from the anemia—not long, but long enough for the new couple to enjoy their stolen moments alone.
Whenever the king felt lively enough, he’d work miracles turning Alastor’s outfit into a nurse’s uniform. It should be noted that it was in no way professional; it was clearly designed to feed the whims of that old devil, who watched with a delighted grin and sparkling eyes. Alastor limited himself to feeding him and swatting away a mischievous hand that kept trying to grab his bare thighs. Of course, Alastor teased right back—leaning forward so the fabric would ride up and cling to his thighs, showing off his white deer spots.
“You can’t do anything until you’re better,” he’d remind him. So Lucifer did everything in his power to resist temptation and heal.
Finally, after being confined to his room, Lucifer was able to leave wearing his usual ringmaster suit instead of the pajamas he’d lived in for days. Now free and recovered, he had no intention of staying cooped up any longer—not when there was so much to do outside and a certain partner waiting to talk with him in the parlor all day.
On the other hand, after finishing his duties as the king’s caretaker, Alastor returned to his role as the hotel’s host, with a temperament far more cheerful and playful than when he’d first arrived at the Hazbin Hotel.
Charlie couldn’t be happier with how things were turning out. Alastor had come back safe and sound, in a better mood than ever, and the hotel was returning to the lively normalcy of his first day there. Charlie didn’t know the exact reason, but she figured the demon had simply found something new to keep himself entertained at the hotel.
End.