I have no problem with al being a bottom, I just have a hard time with bottom king lucifer as a top. May I have examples to try and see your side?
Exhibit A:
Dat smirk.
Exhibit B:
Soft Top Lucifer
Exhibit C:
Demon Top Lucifer
Exhibit C:
That sexy shoulder bop
Exhibit D:
Look at this guy.
Exhibit E:
Obvious one.
Exhibit F:
I just wanted to post this one cuz I like his smirky little face.
LOL no, seriously though, there's no specific way a character has to act or behave to be deemed a top, bottom or switch. It's a preferred sexual position that isn't dependent on outside factors, it's just what a person enjoys, and what the reader/viewer wants that character to be. That's essentially what it is. It's not based on logic, it's based on what position the fan prefers for them to be in.
Lucifer could do his sexy little shoulder bop and still be a bottom. He can give the most suave, seductive smirk and still be a bottom. It's different for everyone.
But as for why I like top!Lucifer, here are a few reasons:
A) I really like it when shorties top. So often, in almost all fandoms I've been in, the default for a popular ship is the shorter one bottoming and the taller one topping. As a shortie myself, I just...ugh, I get so tired of it. Especially since the bottom is typically softened, UwU-ified, and turned into this delicate little flower. Bringing personal feelings into this, I've been very short and very thin all my life. I've literally been described as "delicate" before, and as someone who enjoys sports, running around, and is just a loud, rough and tumble person by nature, I absolutely hate it. It's given me a lot of mental and emotional issues, and a lot of the treatment and comments I've gotten has made me feel belittled, vulnerable, and weak. So, while being a bottom doesn't mean you're any of those things, short characters have been treated like that for a majority of the fandoms I've been in, no matter what their personality, stature, behaviors, or attitude was, and seeing it brings out of love of dark and negative feelings that I'd rather not re-live when I'm trying to enjoy myself in fandom. (Which is another reason why I dislike so much bottom!Lucifer because he's so often softened down and turned into this naive, dare I say, helpless little lamb. The moment Alastor overpowers him or easily manipulates him into a deal, I am outta there.)
B) Lucifer has that top energy. Can't explain it. He just does. To be clear, I don't see him exclusively as a top. He's a switch. But I do headcanon Alastor as exclusively a bottom, so in any radioapple relationship I write or draw, Lucifer will top.
and C) the most important reason: I like seeing Alastor get railed.
Alastor bottoms in all the ships I have for him and Lucifer is no exception. Besides, I find a lot of versatility and potential in Lucifer being with/fucking a sinner, especially considering his distaste of them. Makes for a good hate-fucking scenario, or a very emotional and in-depth character deep dive of him coming to terms with his own bias and internalized hatred of them and finding love and companionship in one of the very people he despised. That's some delicious mental turmoil and the perfect opportunity for character development.
(LOL there's a lot of talk of Alastor not bottoming because of his ego, and yet nobody considers that maybe Lucifer wouldn't bottom for Alastor because he's a sinner. He is the embodiment of pride after all. So, combining that with his disdain for sinners, would he really "stoop" so low as to let one of them fuck him? Food for thought).
But seriously though, when it comes down to it, I just like Alastor bottoming and Lucifer topping. Yes, bottom!Lucifer and top!Alastor has been soured for me due to popular fandom depictions of it, but even before those were popular, I simply preferred Alastor bottoming. I enjoy it more, not just for his character, but just...because. I just do.
Thing is, I don't think there has to be a list of reasons for why you prefer a character topping, bottoming, or switching. People are allowed to do whatever they want with these characters. It's fandom. This is a playground. We don't have to have a reason, we're just here to have fun.
If you can't see Lucifer as a top, Anon, that is a-okay 👍👍Thanks for asking for a different perspective though, it's always awesome when a person seeks to understand someone else's point of view. I don't know how well of a different perspective I offered, though. I have a hard time answering questions like these bcuz they just don't make a lot of sense to me. It's hard to say why I like something when I just...do. I just vibe with it.
To boil it all down, my examples/answers are all based on what I like and how I feel. I like bottom!Alastor cuz I enjoy it. I like top!Lucifer because I love seeing Alastor get railed - especially by a big, powerful demon king. Very yummy.
Also, LOL, considering Alastor is exclusively a bottom to me, anyone I do ship him with will automatically be the top, regardless of who they are XD So I guess that's an important factor to consider too 😂
I don't know how well I did with answering this, but I do want you to get the perspective you were looking for, so! My fellow bottom!Alastor truthers who are reading this, drop why you like bottom!Alastor in the comments below for our lovely Anon!
i love how lucifer is one rebellious bratty power bottom but then they show you his interaction with his big brother in swan song and he’s a little pathetic, teary eyed, begging baby brother. i think getting dicked down and called a good boy by michael is ultimately what he needed most but unfortunately michael was too mad at him. anyway, lucifer!sam using dean as a human dildo because he missed feeling michael inside him is a perfect concept. especially because he can taunt dean about his own feelings towards sam, he’d bounce on dean’s dick and ask him if it feels good and right, finally being inside his little brother, something dean wanted since like forever. he’d come on dean’s dick moaning michael’s name, and then he’d make sure dean comes inside his/sam’s (theirs?) body
he definitely is a bratty bottom at heart - I mean his whole deal is basically throwing a tantrum. Every brat needs someone to put them in their place and he wants it to be Michael so badly.
And fuck, that scenario you described is fucking delicious. Dean would be so conflicted, he would finally get to be inside his little brother but it wouldn't really be Sam (or just Sam). Every time he could convince himself it's Sam for just a second, Lucifer would moans Michael's name and ruin the fantasy. It wouldn't matter though, cos it'd be too fucking good and it'd be Sam's body bouncing on his dick and oh shit he would get to cum inside his little brother
and just maaaybe Lucifer would let Sam out just for a second, just as Dean would be pumping him full - just so he too could feel how good it is when big brother fills you up
The clock on the wall ticked softly in Lucifer’s room, echoing in his head.
He couldn’t sleep. Then again. He never could.
Normally, he would go bustle around the kitchen and make something, but, well…last night he got more sugar than he asked for.
Ugh, that was cheesy even for him.
Lucifer threw off the blanket and started pacing in front of the desk and little lounge before his fire place.
The master bedroom was huge and spacious…and empty. And he rubbed his arms and fold them across his bare chest he looked out the back window and the snow drifting down.
Only to be interrupted only by the sudden and insistent knock at his door.
Lucifer’s parental instincts went off like a fire alarm. He quickly grabbed the fluffy robe from the end of his bed and hurried to the door. The plush fabric whispered against his skin as he wrapped it around himself, tying the belt with a practiced motion.
As he pulled the door open, the dim light from the hallway spilled into the room, framing a figure clad in red satin.
"Alastor?" Lucifer’s voice was low, a mix of surprise and admonition. "It's late."
Alastor stood there, seemingly unfazed by the hour or the situation. His red pajamas shimmered slightly in the faint light, their sheen emphasizing the confident tilt of his head and the playful glint in his eyes.
"Yes," Alastor replied smoothly, his voice carrying a hint of mischief, "and it's cold in my room. My fireplace isn’t working."
Before Lucifer could respond, Alastor stepped forward, crossing the threshold with an easy, assured grace. The scent of cedar and something spicy—was it cinnamon?—trailed into the room with him.
"Maybe you can show me how to operate yours," Alastor suggested, his tone both innocent and suggestive.
Lucifer watched as Alastor sauntered into the room, his red satin pajamas shining under the faint light. Bringing a palpable energy that shimmered around him.
"Alastor," Lucifer began, his voice tinged with exasperation, "you shouldn't be in here."
"Oh, why shouldn’t I?" Alastor replied, a smirk playing on his lips as he surveyed the room with casual interest.
"Because, well…” Lucifer blustered, then tightened the soft robe around himself when those hazel eyes were on him.
“I shouldn’t freeze to death because of your devastating lack of both self-esteem and self-control.”
”Uh, okay, ouch.” Lucifer blanched at the sharpness of those words.
Even as those eyes softened on him.
”Tell me I’m wrong.” Alastor said it softly, and Lucifer couldn’t. He could only huff and fold his arms over his chest, and deflect.
“Did you try asking Charlie or Vaggie for help with your fireplace?" Lucifer asked, crossing his arms over his chest, trying to maintain some semblance of authority despite the younger man’s intrusion.
Alastor chuckled softly, a sound that felt like it was filling the room like his presence.
"I was about to knock on their door," he said, drawing out the words like a cat playing with a mouse, "but from the sounds coming from it, I was rather reluctant to disturb them."
Lucifer cringed inwardly.
So, going upstairs to fix Alastor’s fireplace was definitely not an option. And it was freezing enough to snow outside–no wonder he was cold.
The older man cleared his throat, searching for a solution that would steer them away from this precarious situation.
"Alright," Lucifer relented with a sigh, feeling the weight of inevitability pressing down on him. "Let's get the fireplace in the living room going. It'll warm you up just fine."
“Well…we could do that…” Alastor sauntered over to the bed.
With a casual grace, he sat back on his hands, crossing one leg over the other. His eyes gleamed with mischief, and an impish smirk danced across his lips as he settled into the plush comforter, making a point of appearing at ease.
And that he wasn’t going anywhere.
"But sir, the living room is so wide open," Alastor drawled, his voice smooth like honey, "anyone could walk in on us there."
Lucifer's eyebrows shot up to his hair line, before he shook his head and sighed in pure exasperation.
The weight of Alastor's presence pressed down on him like the humidity before a storm. He resisted the urge to rub his temples–needing to maintain some sort of semblance of control over this situation. Before it got right out of hand.
"There's not going to be anything to walk in on," Lucifer countered, his tone firm yet threaded with a hint of incredulity. The pure arrogance of this young man–of this boy, compared to him.
He stepped closer to the foot of the bed, as Alastor made a point of leaning back. Lucifer needed to ground himself to the reality of their situation.
"Think about it for a second, Alastor. You're my daughter's friend. Hell, I was your age when I had Charlie!" But even as he spoke, Lucifer couldn't ignore the electric charge that hummed in the air between them, a current that defied logic and expectations.
Alastor's eyebrow arched with a playful elegance, a flicker of amusement igniting in his eyes. "Well, now, Mr. Morningstar," The corners of his mouth curled upward as he tossed an offhand remark into the charged silence. "I think it’s a little early to say you want my children, isn’t it?"
Lucifer felt the heat bloom across his cheeks, seeping through his pale skin with embarrassing intensity. The little jab cut right through his attempt at composure, and he thrust both hands through his blonde hair.
"Can you at least stop it with the 'sir' and 'Mr. Morningstar' stuff?" he groaned, his fingers toyed absently with the belt of his robe, twisting the fabric . "I feel old enough already."
“Well,” Alastor's gaze traveled leisurely over his robe—fluffy, undeniably comfortable, yet suddenly feeling like the most inadequate armor against the intensity of those eyes. “What would you like me to call you?”
“My name, obviously.”
"Lucifer," Alastor purred, and oh, that was worse. So much worse.
The younger man’s voice was a silken thread that curled around Lucifer's name for the first time with a tenderness that belied the teasing grin playing at his lips.
Lucifer's heart thudded traitorously against his ribs, and he swallowed hard, trying to tether himself to reason.
"Why do you have to say my name like that?" he huffed out, though he meant to be stern.
"Like what?" Alastor replied, feigning innocence with a tilt of his head, though the glint in his eyes betrayed his awareness—the calculated precision of each syllable designed to unravel Lucifer's defenses.
“Like that!” Lucifer's fingers instinctively found their way to his hair, ruffling through the golden strands in an attempt to regain some semblance of control over the situation spiraling rapidly away from him. “Like you’re going to–”
“Eat you?” The brunette smirked, his gaze only lifting a moment to take in Lucifer’s mussed hair.
“Yes, that.”
“You rather enjoyed my mouth on you last time, did you not?”
Lucifer was going to burn to death from embarassment. That smirking tone knew he was drawing images of last night right back into the older man’s head. He bit his bottom lip, clapping a hand over the shoulder of his robe, where it barely covered the bite mark Alastor left in his skin.
"Listen here," Lucifer began, his voice slipping into the authoritative timbre of a father, hoping to reestablish some boundaries, to remind them both of lines they shouldn't cross.
But before he could continue, Alastor's soft tutting interrupted him, accompanied by a look so infuriatingly fond it made Lucifer pause.
"That was cute," Alastor said, a teasing lilt to his words.
The comment disarmed Lucifer completely, the dad voice rendered useless against the unwavering confidence radiating from the younger man.
Lucifer's cheeks turned a shade of crimson that rivaled the deepest embers of Hell. His mind raced, scrambling for some semblance of composure as he opened his mouth to retort, perhaps to regain control or at least to articulate something coherent.
But any attempt at words was swiftly stolen from him as Alastor moved with sudden intent, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat. The blonde’s back hit the door that he’d been holding open, only to have Alastor’s hand press above his head. Forcing it to click it closed.
The younger man's hand reached up, grasping the front of Lucifer's robe with a possessive confidence that sent a shiver down his spine. And he cursed himself that he was tilting his chin up, hoping for a kiss.
"Lucifer..." Alastor's voice purred and curled between them, that same silken tone lingering on each syllable with deliberate slowness that made him hang on it. "Where do you keep the lube?."
The words hung there, bold and unashamedly self-assured, wrapping around Lucifer like a lasso tightening at his very core. His heart skipped a beat, shock rippling through him anew as he blinked, trying to process the audacity—the sheer ease with which Alastor navigated this intimate terrain.
“How dare–you–we won’t–”
And then, without hesitation, Alastor kissed him—hard and unyielding, a force of nature that demanded nothing less than complete surrender.
Any protests that Lucifer might have conjured melted away under the heat of that kiss, lost amidst the fiery collision of lips that left him breathless. All thoughts dissipated like smoke on the wind, leaving only the raw sensation of urgency thrumming through his veins.
Alastor pulled back from his lips, and Lucifer felt himself whine. Until the younger’s forehead pressed against his. Overwhelming him with his cinnamon scent.
“If you want me to stop.” The brunette panted, and Lucifer thrilled that he could leave him breathless. “You need to tell me. Now.”
Lucifer couldn’t help the pathetic little sound that escaped him at even the idea of stopping now. Alastor wasn’t even holding his wrists, but his hands felt pinned to the wall behind him. He lifted his head, hopeful for another kiss.
That Alastor denied him.
“Darling.” Alastor purred, his tone on the edge of impatience. “Use your words.”
Lucifer swallowed. The last of his reservations falling into the dark like the snow outside.
“Green.”
“Good boy.”
Then Alastor was kissing him. And it felt like Lucifer could breathe again. Until those long fingers wrapped around the bulge in his lounge pants.
Lucifer let out a moan that Alastor swallowed as he kissed him, deeper, demanding entrance. Tasting every inch of him.
But those clever fingers were relentless, their touch both deft and deliberate as they found the waistband of Lucifer's sweats. In one smooth motion, they pushed the material down, gravity taking hold as it pooled around Lucifer's ankles.
Damn those clever hands, Lucifer thought dimly, even as his own body responded with a traitorous eagerness.
A part of him marveling at how easily the younger man unraveled him piece by piece, yet another part surrendering to the undeniable allure of it all.
Alastor's fingers hovered at the tie of Lucifer's robe, a pause in the fervent dance that had consumed them both. And, Lucifer could guess why.
Because he’d been reluctant to remove his shirt around the younger man all weekend. And it struck him that not only had the brunette noticed–he actually cared if Lucifer was comfortable. The weight of Alastor’s gaze was almost tangible as he subtly pulled back, his eyes searching Lucifer’s face with an inquisitive glint.
"Perhaps," Alastor murmured, brushing a soft kiss against Lucifer's lips—gentle, teasing, "you ought to change into another sweater, hm?"
Lucifer hesitated, the suggestion bumping awkwardly against his rising need. He whined, a sound that escaped him unbidden, raw and vulnerable. "I don’t want to," he confessed, voice low and rough.
The flicker of amusement in Alastor's eyes was unmistakable, but his smile held a warmth that chased away any notion of mockery.
"Then what do you want?" Alastor prompted, voice smooth and inviting as velvet.
"For you...to bite me," Lucifer admitted, the words tumbling out like a floodgate giving way, "to be marked…and claimed." His admission hung in the air between them, charged and electric.
"Gladly," Alastor purred, his voice a dark promise.
With deft fingers, he untied the robe and left Lucifer breathless and bare to the night, exposed.
The cool air caressed his skin, a stark contrast to the heat blooming under Alastor's gaze—a silent vow to fulfill every unspoken want.
Alastor's fingers grazed Lucifer's skin with a touch that was both feather-light and searing. The contact sent a shiver racing down his spine, igniting a fire in his veins that had lain dormant for too long.
Doubt, though, nibbled at the back of Lucifer’s mind. Why would this gorgeous young man ever want him?
Alastor’s next words silenced every thought.
"Every inch," he purred, his voice a sultry promise that seemed to resonate through the room. "I can't wait to mark every inch of you."
With a gentle but insistent push, Alastor guided Lucifer onto the bed.
Lucifer fell onto the yielding mattress without complaint, lifting his head to the claiming kiss. His skin already tingling at the thought of more.
Alastor’s lips trailed down the column of his throat, dragging the edge of his teeth–but leaving no marks above his collarbones. As he promised.
"Ah!" Lucifer gasped, his voice catching in his throat as Alastor sank his teeth back into the older man’s shoulder. Not the same place because that would distort the pretty purple that bloomed overnight.
But leaving a brand new bite to criss-cross it. Like there was a design written in his head. Alastor's lips descended upon him, tracing a path of bites along his torso, each one a deliberate claim that set Lucifer alight with sensation.
Alastor growled with delight at the marks he was leaving—little trophies of his conquest.
The sharp nip of teeth followed by the soothing brush of Alastor's tongue sent waves of pleasure coursing through him. Each bite was a declaration, a testament to Alastor's desire that left no room for doubt.
Lucifer arched beneath the attention, the undeniable evidence of being wanted now decorating his body. And sinking into his very soul.
Lucifer lay there, every nerve ending alive with anticipation as Alastor's hands roamed lower, spreading his legs with a possessive leer that went straight to Lucifer’s aching prick.
He was fully exposed, every inch of dad bod laid bare before Alastor’s hungry stare.
Lucifer felt his legs tremble as the younger held them open wide. And then the brunette was catching his eye. Waiting for Lucifer to look at him. before he lowered his head, dragging his tongue along the soft flesh of the inside of his thigh.
“Color?” That predatory purr asked.
And Lucifer had to fight the tremble of anticipation in his voice, so it wouldn’t sound like anything else.
“Green, so green.” Lucifer squirmed.
Alastor chuckled, pushing his legs further apart as he simply said “Good.”
The fireplace was roaring away, but Lucifer still felt a shiver of goosebumps prickle over his skin at the cool air.
Until Alastor’s mouth set him on fire all over again.
Each bite along his soft thighs was a spark, igniting deeper within him, and he could feel the promise of bruises blooming beneath the surface.
"Turn over," Alastor commanded as he stood, his voice a velvet spike that sent a shiver down Lucifer's spine.
Lucifer hesitated only for a heartbeat before complying, shifting over onto his stomach and his elbows. Feeling a little tingle across his skin at how exposed he was.
"Where's the lube?" Alastor's question was more an expectation than a request, each word dripping with intent.
"Nightstand," Lucifer managed to pant out, his mind swimming in a haze that left little room for coherent thought. Just talking felt like a tether to reality, and he was ready to toss it out the picture window behind him.
Alastor moved with purpose, his footsteps a murmur on the carpet as he approached the nightstand.
Lucifer watched him through half-lidded eyes. The anticipation was a live wire under his skin.
"What's this?" Alastor's voice broke through the haze with a teasing lilt.
He held up a cock ring, its snap glinting wickedly in the electronic fire light. There was a smirk playing on his lips–and it was clear he knew exactly what it was.
Lucifer felt a flush rise to his cheeks. His gaze flickered away for a moment before meeting Alastor’s playful stare. "It's mine," he admitted, the words tumbling out with a hint of sheepishness.
"Is it now? How fortuitous" Alastor's grin widened, a flash of white teeth against his brown skin "We'll use this too, since it's been a while for you." His tone was light, but there was an underlying challenge in it.
“Hey!” A spark of indignation flared within Lucifer at the insinuation, a feeble attempt to cling to the remnants of his dignity. “You know, I’ve probably been doing this since before you were born.”
And he actually saw Alastor roll his eyes.
“Yes, yes darling, I’m sure.” The younger moved behind him, as Lucifer turned to try to keep him in sight. “But, you haven’t been doing it with me.” Alastor purred. Just as he seized Lucifer by the hips, dragging him down the bed and manhandling him until he was bent over the end of the bed.
"Spread your legs," Alastor commanded, his voice dropping to a sultry murmur that danced over Lucifer's skin like a caress. The words sent a shiver racing down Lucifer's spine, igniting something primal and urgent within him.
He hesitated only long enough to draw a shaky breath, then obeyed, surrendering to the pull of Alastor's will with a thrill that made his pulse quicken anew.
🍂🍁🍃
Lucifer never would have believed that he’d end up in a position like this.
Face down in the plush comforter of his own bed, ass up and completely exposed. As Alastor’s sure fingers languidly stretching him open. Taking his tortuous time.
The sinfully red satin of Alastor's pajamas brushed against Lucifer’s thighs, a teasing reminder of how frustratingly clothed the younger man remained.
"You're doing so well, darling," Alastor murmured, his voice a low purr that reverberated through Lucifer's bones.
One hand pressed firmly at the nape of Lucifer’s neck, keeping him pinned, grounded, even as each deliberate stroke of Alastor’s fingers made him writhe.
"Alastor..." Lucifer’s voice was a half-groan, half-whisper, the sound drenched in desperation. Each calculated brush of his sweet spot sent shocks of pleasure ricocheting through his body, leaving him breathless and aching for more.
"Patience," Alastor chided softly, leaning over him, a shadow cast by moonlight filtering through the window. The world outside was a blur of wintry white, but in here, heat seared through Lucifer’s veins as he surrendered inch by inch to Alastor’s deft touch.
Lucifer’s back arched instinctively, seeking more of those skilled touches, his thoughts a haze of white noise and want.
"Please," he heard himself say, the plea falling from his lips unbidden, raw and honest.
Each press of those sinfully long fingers sent him spiraling further into a space where thoughts were fleeting. And all he could do was feel.
"Lucifer," Alastor's voice was a silken caress, wrapping around his name with an intimacy that made his heart stutter.
"You're too good at this," Lucifer squirmed beneath the unyielding hold on his neck. His mind floated somewhere between reality and oblivion, "Too old for this,"
It was a weak protest, more habit, as if acknowledging the disparity in their ages could anchor him somehow.
"Nonsense," Alastor replied, his tone light, teasing, but leaving no room for arugment. "You’re taking my fingers so well."
The praise was like a balm, soothing some hidden ache inside Lucifer, even as it fanned the flames of his desire higher.
Alastor continued, leaning closer until his breath ghosted over Lucifer’s ear, making him shiver. "I’m sure you’ll take my cock like a good boy."
A whimper escaped Lucifer, unbidden, the sound lost in the heady cocktail of want and submission. Any semblance of control slipped further from his grasp, leaving only the raw, unfiltered need to please the man who had him laid bare in every sense of the word.
"Good boy," Alastor had said, those two simple words burrowing under Lucifer's skin, igniting something deep within him.
But… alongside the warmth, there was a chill, creeping into the edges of his consciousness, reminding him of everything else he was.
He wasn't just old–he felt worn out. Baggage that tangled with his self-worth, dragging it down beneath the surface. Depression loomed over him like an ever-present shadow.
"Alastor," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, breaking through the haze for a moment. "You... you deserve better than this. Than me."
The confession hung heavy in the air between them. Bound up and fizzling with the insecurity and doubts that clawed at Lucifer, especially when he was at his most vulnerable.
The sudden stillness from Alastor was like a jolt, ripping Lucifer from his spiraling thoughts, making the room feel colder, the air thicker.
"Say that again," Alastor's voice sliced through the silence, sharp, cold, and commanding.
Before Lucifer could even process the words, a sharp thud echoed through the room—a hand coming down hard on his ass.
Lucifer gasped, the sensation ricocheting up his spine, leaving a tingling warmth in its wake. The sting on his skin was a reminder—albeit a startling one—that he was very much alive, here and now.
"Say it again, Lucifer." Alastor's tone was unwavering, firm, and beneath the surface, there was something else—something almost tender.
His mouth opened, a protest forming on his lips, but doubt clawed at him, urging him to speak the self-deprecation that had become second nature. Another swift smack landed in the same spot. Precisely.
Lucifer flinched, the repetition sending a shiver throughout his entire being.
The heat on his skin bloomed, and somewhere within the haze of sensation and emotion, a new awareness took root. Alastor knew exactly what he was doing—each strike calculated, deliberate.
It was a punishment. Alastor had never punished him. And it brought Lucifer sharply back to reality.
"Again," Alastor pressed, unyielding.
Lucifer's mind spun, caught between the urge to resist and the desire to yield. His defenses wavered, the walls he'd built around himself weakening under the relentless onslaught..
Alastor flipped Lucifer over onto his back.
The sudden shift left Lucifer momentarily breathless, a rush of vulnerability washing over him, but before fear could take root, Alastor's hand found its place at his throat.
The touch was firm but not constrictive—a gentle reminder of the power Alastor wielded, but also of the care with which he wielded it. Lucifer felt the weight of that hand like an anchor, grounding him amidst the tempest of emotions swirling within.
"Stay still," Alastor’s voice low and smooth, as if coaxing the tension from Lucifer’s body. “And keep your eyes on me.”
He complied, the unspoken command threading through his very veins, calming the storm swirling in his chest.
With deliberate movements, Alastor spread Lucifer's legs wide, each motion purposeful, leaving no doubt in its intention as he moved between them. A shiver of anticipation danced along Lucifer's spine, mingling with the remnants of uncertainty that clung to him. Alastor’s lithe body, pressed into the cradle of his so damn intimately it was breath taking.
“I know what I want.” Alastor said, so softly and emphatically, Lucifer’s world narrowed down to every word on his lips. “And I have, excellent tastes.” He chuckled, lowly and dark. “And I want you. So, it only follows that you must be desirable.”
Lucifer felt his mouth open, to agree or to contradict, he didn’t know–when he felt Alastor snap his hips forward. So the older man felt the hard line of his cock through those satin pjs. Making Lucifer whine.
"Isn't that right?" Alastor's words were soft yet unwavering, carrying a conviction that resonated. He leaned over Lucifer, their eyes locking, and in that instant, all pretense fell away.
Lucifer could see it—the certainty in Alastor's gaze, the desire that lay beneath the surface, raw and unhidden. It was a question that was not a question at all, but an affirmation.
Alastor knew what he wanted, and more than that, he wanted Lucifer.
In the silence that followed, Lucifer felt the truth settle around him like a warm embrace. Alastor had chosen him, and in that choice, there was worth—something long elusive, now finally within reach.
“Alastor…”
Alastor’s fingers plunged back inside Lucifer, rough and unyielding. Three all at once, they filled him and stole his breath. It wasn’t uncomfortable–it was a relief–a release of tension, as if those deft fingers were unraveling the tangled knots in him.
Lucifer's body arched involuntarily, a gasp escaping his lips. Alastor moved with purpose, each thrust precise, exploring until he found that sensitive spot that made Lucifer's vision blur with pleasure.
"Isn’t that right?" Alastor repeated, his voice low, almost tender. He brushed against Lucifer's prostate, sending a jolt through his spine, a reminder of what was asked of him.
"Yes, Alastor..." Lucifer breathed, the word tumbling from him, born of instinct and need.
"Say it, darling." Alastor's voice was velvet and steel, a command wrapped in endearment. His fingers moved relentlessly, coaxing every ounce of sensation from Lucifer’s trembling form.
Lucifer whined. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—say the words that felt too big, too heavy to be true.
"Say you are worthy of being wanted." Alastor repeated, his tone unwavering as he leaned over Lucifer, the weight of his presence all-consuming.
Lucifer shook his head, a stubborn refusal even as his body betrayed him, arching into each calculated thrust. The world narrowed to the point where their gazes locked, Alastor’s eyes holding his with an intensity that burned.
"Look at me," Alastor urged, that had still firm on Lucifer’s throat.
That touch kept him still, made him focus on nothing but those dark, intense eyes.
His cock throbbed, trapped and dined by the ring around it. It was a torment that bordered on bliss, and Alastor watched him keenly, absorbing every reaction, every flicker of emotion.
"Please," Lucifer gasped, desperation coloring his voice, not sure what he was pleading for—for release or reprieve.
"Say it," Alastor insisted, his fingers never faltering, the rhythm a relentless reminder of his demand.
Lucifer’s resolve wavered under the pressure of Alastor’s unyielding attention, under the promise lingering in the air—that here, in this space, he could be wanted, cherished even, if he just admitted it.
"You may be older," he murmured, his breath a warm whisper against Lucifer's skin, "but I assure you, I can wait you out. As long as it takes."
Lucifer's eyes fluttered shut for a moment, overwhelmed by the certainty in Alastor's tone.
There was no doubt, no hesitation. Just the unshakeable conviction that patience was infinite, and that Lucifer was worth every second spent waiting.
And there was as nothing quite like having alastor’s full attention on him.
Lucifer’s hands had stayed pinned to the bed, his fingers clenched in the sheets, without having to be bound or held down.
Alastor’s unwavering gaze grounded him there.
Every fiber of his being urged him to move, to reach out, to defy this feeling of vulnerability. But, he couldn’t. Because he didn’t want to.
"Lucifer…" Alastor’s voice was a velvet whisper, wrapping around him with an intimacy that felt like a caress. Lucifer's breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against the cage of his ribs.
"I…" he began, his voice barely above a whisper, cracking under the weight of vulnerability. His mind spun, words lodged at the back of his throat like stones he couldn’t dislodge. All the while, Alastor's fingers moved inside him—patient, relentless, drawing him closer and closer to the precipice.
"The full sentence, darling," Alastor prompted tenderly, the words sliding over Lucifer’s skin like silk, teasing and coaxing—but never demanding. It was maddeningly tender.
This wasn’t just lust. It wasn’t enjoying playing with a partner during a scene. Alastor was taking Lucifer apart just to put him back together again.
And, after that, how could Lucifer ever let him go?
"I want to hear you say it," Alastor continued, his tone as smooth as molten honey.
Lucifer inhaled shakily, his chest tight with the tumult. With each breath, he could feel the embers of trust and warmth expanding, threatening to engulf the shadows of doubt and insecurity that clung so stubbornly to him.
And then, finally, the words tumbled out, each syllable a hard-won victory against the specter of self-doubt. "I am…worthy…of being wanted."
Alastor's eyes lit up with approval, a smile curving his lips as he leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to Lucifer’s temple.
"Good boy," Alastor murmured, his voice rich with praise and promise.
With a deftness that belied the magnitude of the moment, he reached down and released the cock ring, freeing Lucifer from its constraining hold.
In that instant, euphoria crashed over Lucifer with the force of a tidal wave, leaving him quivering beneath Alastor’s unwavering affection.
🍂🍁🍃
Waves of blissful pleasure coursed through Lucifer's body, leaving him trembling and breathless. Alastor's skilled hands continued to caress him gently, easing him through the aftershocks.
"You did so well for me," Alastor murmured, his voice a soothing balm.
Lucifer's eyes fluttered open, meeting Alastor's intense gaze. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice hoarse. And he was so blissed out, he didn’t even blush at his awkwardness.
Alastor's fingers traced delicate patterns across Lucifer's flushed skin. The tender touch felt like everything to him, and when he meekly tugged on those satin pajamas, the brunette indulged him and moved to sit on the bed.
Lucifer was about ready to curl right up into his lap. Soak up this newfound attentiveness like a house cat in the afternoon sunshine.
His cheek came to rest on the red fabric that covered Alastor’s thigh, clinging to the slender frame.
"How are you feeling?" Alastor asked softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from Lucifer's forehead.
Lucifer leaned into the touch, savoring the warmth of Alastor's palm against his cheek. "Incredible," he murmured, and it was true. He was floating on a satin cloud. Not even thinking of what usually came next.
A small smile tugged at Alastor's lips. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, cher."
Lucifer's head felt pleasantly fuzzy, his thoughts hazy and unfocused. He found himself overcome with affection for the man above him. Without thinking, he nuzzled against Alastor's crotch, relishing the smooth texture of against his cheek.
"Thank you for taking such good care of me," Lucifer said softly, his words slightly slurred.
Alastor's hand came to rest on the back of Lucifer's neck, a comforting weight that also stilled his movements.
"It’s been my pleasure," he replied, his voice warm with fondness.
Right, Lucifer was starting to get a bit more lucid, and remember…Alastor’s pleasure…he really should—
Lucifer's blissful haze was abruptly shattered as he felt Alastor's hands gently cradle his head, lifting it from the satin-clad thigh.
With careful movements, Alastor lowered Lucifer's head to rest on the soft bedding. Before Lucifer could fully process what was happening, Alastor had slipped away, rising to his feet beside the bed.
Panic surged through Lucifer's chest. "Wait!" His voice was hoarse, tinged with desperation. "You're not going to leave again, are you?"
Lucifer's eyes darted down, immediately noticing the obvious bulge straining against Alastor's sleek pants.
“Or…let me help you out…?”
But Alastor merely shrugged, a small, enigmatic smile playing at the corners of his mouth. But his night clothes caught the light from the snowy window, which was probably the only reason the blonde’s fuzzy head noticed how the younger seemed to shift from foot to foot.
"That's not necessary, Lucifer," he said, his voice low and smooth. "I told you. Orgasm isn't really my goal."
Lucifer furrowed his brow, confusion mingling with concern. "But…I want to make you feel good too," he insisted, pushing himself up onto his elbows.
Alastor's expression softened. He reached out, gently caressing Lucifer's cheek. "You were so good for me," he murmured. “That's all I need.”
Lucifer leaned into the touch, torn between the warmth of Alastor's praise and his own lingering desire to reciprocate.
The blonde felt his tongue dart out, wetting his dry lips. "Don’t you want to stay—and fuck me, I mean?"
Despite Alastor's reassurances, a nagging desire still gnawed at him. His voice came out weak, almost pleading,
Alastor's long fingers threaded through Lucifer's hair, the gentle touch at odds with the intensity of his gaze. His eyes roamed deliberately down Lucifer's body, lingering pointedly on the evidence of their recent activities.
Lucifer followed his line of sight, suddenly acutely aware of his own spent cock, still flushed and sensitive, and the cooling streaks of come decorating the constellation of bite marks Alastor had left across his belly.
A rush of heat flooded Lucifer's cheeks as he realized the implication.
He was thoroughly spent, but here he was, practically begging for more.
"But I still want you to fuck me," Lucifer insisted, his voice barely above a whisper.
Alastor cocked an eyebrow, a mix of amusement and intrigue playing across his features.
Without a word, he moved to sit on the edge of the bed. Lucifer's body reacted instinctively, reaching out to clutch at Alastor, desperate to keep him close. But Alastor was quicker, catching Lucifer's wrists in a firm but gentle grip.
His thumbs traced small circles on the sensitive skin, a gesture both soothing and electrifying.
Lucifer's breath caught in his throat as Alastor leaned in, his lips barely grazing Lucifer's ear.
"Tell me, Lucifer," Alastor whispered, his breath warm against Lucifer's skin. "Do you truly want to be fucked, or is it that you simply do not want to be left alone?"
The question stripped away his defenses. Cutting right to the quick, as the younger said he did.Why did Alastor always seem to see right through him?
"Both," Lucifer admitted, his voice trembling slightly. He met Alastor's gaze, determined to be honest. "I want you to fuck me, Alastor. And…I want you to stay the night."
A flicker of something—surprise? approval? longing?—passed over Alastor's face. He released Lucifer's wrists and shifted, settling more comfortably on the bed.
“I assure you, I was hoping to stay.” Though a little bit of mirth lit his face, and his eyes traveled over Lucifer once again. “After I cleaned you up a bit.”
Relief and desire surged through Lucifer in equal measure.
He pressed close, intent on kissing Alastor, on showing his gratitude and renewed passion. But before their lips could meet, Alastor placed a finger against Lucifer's mouth, halting him.
"Careful now," Alastor warned, his tone light but firm. "This is my favorite set of sleepwear. I'd rather not get it…sticky."
Lucifer froze, suddenly hyper-aware of his own state—the drying come and blooming bruises over his pale flesh.
Lucifer's cheeks burned as he remembered Alastor's rules.
“It wouldn’t, I mean.” He huffed, rubbing a hand through his hair to try to ground himself. And not sound as petulant as he felt. Like a child repeatedly denied a treat. “They wouldn’t get messy, if you took them off.”
He swore the chuckle Alastor gave was indulgent. “Will you want to touch me, then?”
Lucifer’s attention snapped back to Alastor, nodding eagerly. “Touch you, blow you—anything you want, Alastor. Please.”
“And, there in, lies the rub.” The brunette murmured, and Lucifer mourned the movement he took to get back on his feet at the edge of the bed. But not the way the way he crawled after Alastor.
“You don’t want me to touch you?” Lucifer asked, his tone light with curiosity that tilted his head as he looked up at the younger man. Wondering if this was what had him pulling away the two times before.
“Oh, no, darling,” Alastor met his eyes, with that intense hazel look. “I very much do.”
Lucifer was about to offer everything, anything Alastor wanted, when the brunette surprised him by being the first to pull his eye away.
“You make me greedy, Lucifer. I want everything you’ll let me have. I want nothing to be left for anyone else…But,” Alastor folded his arms over his chest, looking defensive and utterly unlike his ever-confident self. “I can’t always…" he said softly. "It's not…easy for me to finish."
Lucifer's first instinct was to smirk, sure Alastor was teasing or challenging him.
But as he searched the younger man's face, he caught a glimpse of something he'd never seen before: embarrassment. The vulnerability in Alastor's expression made Lucifer's heart clench.
The blonde quickly moved from his knees to give the brunette his full attention, sitting as he reached for Alastor’s hand that was clenched in the crook of his elbow. He felt resistance, for a moment, before the younger gave in to the hold.
"Have you seen a doctor about it?" he asked gently.
Alastor's fingers tightened around Lucifer's, a flicker of something guarded in his gaze. "Yes, of course," he replied, his voice low. “They all assure me I am too young for the issue to be from the waist down.” He paused, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. “So it must be from the neck up.”
Lucifer felt his brow furrow. Concern etched all over his face. He slid onto his knees, almost bringing himself to eye level with the taller man.
“Hey, Alastor.” He reached for the younger, for that narrow waist, trying to tug him close. “Look, if you need to talk about this, we can.”
Alastor rolled his eyes. “Do you really want to chat about Catholic guilt, compartmentalization, and grief right now?” He gestured with his free hand to Lucifer’s state of undress and his own state of visible arousal. “I’ve had this problem for a while, no matter the scene or the partner.”
Lucifer's chest tightened at the mention of grief, understanding dawning. He stroked his thumb across the small of Alastor’s back, considering his next words carefully. "Do you want to continue?" he asked softly, searching Alastor's face. "We don't have to if you're not comfortable."
Alastor's expression softened, and he cupped Lucifer's cheek with his free hand. "I do want to, more than anything," he assured him. "But I know bottoms get frustrated, or even feel inadequacy, when they can't make me come. I don't want that for you, Lucifer."
The delicacy in Alastor's hand sent a shiver through Lucifer. But it was nothing compared to how damn considerate he was being. Alastor knew Lucifer’s self-esteem was weak at best. And he was trying to shield him, at his own expense.
He leaned into the caress, his heart swelling with affection for this complex, caring man.
"Thank you, for telling me. I know that couldn’t have been easy," Lucifer murmured, turning his head to press a kiss to Alastor's palm. "But I want you to know, it doesn’t have to be about making you come…I just want to be with you, to make you feel good in whatever way I can."
Alastor's eyes widened slightly at Lucifer's words, a flicker of vulnerability passing over his features before being replaced by a look of profound gratitude.
Slowly, he leaned down, cupping Lucifer's face in both hands as he brought their lips together in a tender kiss.
The kiss was unlike any they had shared before. Where their previous encounters had been marked by passion and urgency, this was slow and achingly sweet. Alastor's lips moved against Lucifer's with deliberate care, as if savoring every moment of contact.
Lucifer's hands came to rest on Alastor's hips, fingers curling into the soft fabric of his pajamas. He could feel the warmth of Alastor's skin through the thin material, grounding them both to the moment. As the rest of the world faded away. The soft glow of moonlight filtering through the window cast everything in a dreamy, ethereal light.
The only sounds were their quiet breaths and the gentle rustle of fabric as they moved together.
Their kisses deepened gradually, tongues meeting in a slow, sensual dance. There was no rush, no frantic need driving them forward.
Lucifer's hands slid up Alastor's back, feeling the lean muscles shift beneath his palms. He marveled at the contrast between Alastor's usual sharp edges and this softer, more vulnerable version of him.
He felt it, when there was a shift in Alastor. The tension that had been holding him rigid began to melt away, his body relaxing into Lucifer's touch.
His kisses became more assured, more present, as if he was fully allowing himself to be in the moment.
"Undress me," Alastor murmured, his voice low and rich with emotion. It wasn't quite an order, but there was a quiet authority in his tone that always left the older man tingling.
Lucifer nodded, slowly rising to his feet. He maintained eye contact with Alastor as he began to remove his clothes, piece by piece. There was no teasing or showmanship in the way he slid the buttons of the satin night shirt apart. Letting the fabric drop to the soft carpet of the bedroom. His pants followed.
Lucifer's breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight of Alastor.
The lean lines of his torso were accentuated by the soft moonlight streaming through the window, casting shadows that highlighted every dip and curve of slender muscle. His skin was brown and smooth, marred only by a few scattered scars that spoke of a life lived with intensity.
His collarbone stood out prominently, creating delicate hollows that Lucifer longed to trace with his tongue. Lucifer's eyes followed that tantalizing path, noting the sharp cut of Alastor's hipbones and the lean strength of his thighs.
Despite his earlier admissions, Alastor's arousal was evident, straining against the fabric of his boxers. Lucifer felt a surge of desire, wanting nothing more than to worship every inch of the beautiful man before him.
"Touch me," Alastor commanded softly, his voice low and husky.
Lucifer didn't hesitate.
He reached out, running his hands reverently over Alastor's chest, feeling the warmth of his skin and the steady beat of his heart. His fingers traced the contours of Alastor's abs, gaping at the subtle definition. He explored every plane and angle of Alastor's body, committing each detail to memory.
As his hands roamed lower, skimming along Alastor's sides and coming to rest on his hips, Lucifer felt an overwhelming urge to taste him.
He looked up, meeting Alastor's intense gaze.
"Can I blow you?" Lucifer asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Please, I want to make you feel good."
Alastor's eyes darkened with desire. He cupped Lucifer's face gently, thumb brushing across his cheekbone.
"Yes," he breathed. "Yes, you can."
Heart racing, Lucifer settled between Alastor's legs, taking a moment to admire the man's impressive cock.
It had been a while since he'd done this, and he wanted to savor the experience. He started slow, placing soft kisses along Alastor's inner thighs, relishing the slight tremor he felt beneath his lips.
As Lucifer's mouth finally enveloped him, Alastor let out a soft gasp. "Oh, that's…lovely," he murmured, his long fingers threading gently through Lucifer's hair.
Encouraged, Lucifer began to pull out all his tricks–swirling his tongue, varying pressure and speed, using his hand in tandem with his mouth.
He glanced up occasionally, thrilling at the sight of Alastor's head tipped back in pleasure, his chest rising and falling more rapidly.
Alastor's quiet sounds of enjoyment spurred Lucifer on. He redoubled his efforts, determined to bring the younger man to climax. But despite his enthusiasm and technique, that release remained elusive.
"You're doing wonderfully," Alastor breathed, his voice strained but affectionate as he stroked Lucifer's hair. "It feels incredible, truly."
Lucifer pulled back, panting slightly. "But not quite enough?" he asked, unable to keep a hint of disappointment from his voice.
“Darling…”Alastor cooed, obviously trying to soothe him. “I wouldn’t say that.”
Lucifer couldn't help the frustration that bubbled up inside him.
Alastor had been right, and that knowledge stung his pride. But beneath that initial irritation, a fierce determination took root.
He wasn't about to give up so easily.
"We're not done yet," Lucifer declared, his blue eyes flashing with renewed resolve. "I've got more tricks up my sleeve, darling."
Alastor raised an eyebrow, an amused smile playing at his lips. "Is that so? Well, I'm certainly curious to see what else you have in mind."
🍂🍁🍃
Time passed in a blur of heated touches and exploration.
As the night deepened, Lucifer found himself in a decidedly compromising position—legs in the air, practically folded in half as Alastor loomed over him.
"Fuck, yes," Lucifer gasped, all traces of his earlier shyness long gone. Sweat glistened on his skin as Alastor thrust into him relentlessly. "Just like that, don't stop!"
The intensity of the sensation was overwhelming. Lucifer had suggested this position, thinking it might finally push Alastor over the edge.
But as the pleasure built to a crescendo, he realized with a mix of chagrin and ecstasy that he was the one tipped over the edge.
"Alastor—" Lucifer's warning dissolved into a cry of pleasure as his orgasm washed over him, leaving him trembling and breathless.
Alastor's lips curled into a satisfied smirk as he gazed down at Lucifer's flushed face.
The blonde man's chest heaved as he caught his breath, a mix of frustration and lingering pleasure evident in his eyes as Alastor eased him down from being practically folded into a pretzel on the edge of the bed.
"Shut up," Lucifer muttered, unable to meet Alastor's gaze.
“Darling, I didn’t say a thing."
Lucifer took a deep breath, steeling himself before looking up at his partner. "Will you just…fuck me the way you want to?"
Alastor's eyebrows rose slightly. "However I want?" he asked, his voice low and velvety.
Lucifer nodded, swallowing hard. "Yes."
A thrill of anticipation ran through Lucifer's body. He braced himself, half-expecting Alastor to flip him over and take him roughly. To pull out his own tricks with the evident experience he had with deviant and kinky sex.
To his surprise, Alastor gently maneuvered him onto his back.
As Alastor moved over him, Lucifer instinctively wrapped his legs around the slim waist, pulling him closer.
He searched Alastor's face, trying to decipher the unexpected tenderness in his actions.
Alastor leaned in, his breath hot against Lucifer's ear. When he spoke, his voice was low and intense, but still somehow soft.
"You make me want to break my own rules, Lucifer."
Lucifer's heart skipped a beat. He opened his mouth to ask, but Alastor silenced him with a deep, languid thrust that made Lucifer's thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind.
As Alastor continued his slow, steady rhythm, Lucifer managed to find his voice.
"What do you mean by your own rules?" he asked breathlessly, his fingers digging into Alastor's shoulders.
Alastor's dark eyes met Lucifer's, a flicker of vulnerability passing through them.
"I don't let my scene partners touch me," he explained, his voice low and hoarse.
Lucifer hesitated for a moment, suddenly hyper-aware of his hands on Alastor's skin.
Slowly, reluctantly, he dropped his arms from around Alastor's shoulders, letting them fall to the bed.
A fleeting look of disappointment crossed Alastor's face.
In one swift motion, he pinned Lucifer's wrists to the mattress, only to thread their fingers together a moment later.
The intimacy of the gesture gave the older man chills.
"I never do scenes with people I know," Alastor continued, his hips never faltering in their rhythm.
Guilt washed over Lucifer as the weight of Alastor's words sank in. He squeezed Alastor's hands, a mix of emotions swirling in his chest.
"I told you… we shouldn't," he whispered, his voice thick with regret. "But you—"
Before Lucifer could finish, Alastor's lips crashed against his, silencing his doubts.
The kiss was hard, desperate, filled with a longing that took Lucifer's breath away. He melted into it, his body responding instinctively to Alastor's passion.
When they finally broke apart, both were panting.
Alastor's lips ghosted over Lucifer's as he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "And…I never, ever let anyone kiss me."
The admission sent a jolt through Lucifer's body. His mind raced, trying to process the significance of what Alastor was telling him.
A soft whine escaped his throat as realization dawned.
"You've got rules against being…intimate with anyone," Lucifer breathed, his eyes searching Alastor's face.
The words hung in the air between them, heavy with implication. Lucifer's heart pounded in his chest, something he wasn't quite ready to name, threatening to overwhelm him.
"Exactly," Alastor murmured, his voice turned to velvet. His darkened eyes bore into Lucifer's, intense and defenseless. "You make me break all of my rules. You make me…" He paused, seeming to struggle with the words. "You make me want to love you."
The confession hung in the air, heavy and raw. He'd never imagined Alastor capable of such openness, such vulnerability.
Before Lucifer could respond, Alastor ducked his head, burying his face in the crook of Lucifer's neck. The shame was palpable, as if Alastor regretted letting his guard down so completely.
Lucifer couldn't bear to see Alastor retreat.
With a surge of affection, he broke his hands free from Alastor's grip. Gently, he cupped the younger man's face, tilting it up to meet his gaze.
"Alastor," Lucifer whispered, his thumbs caressing those sharp cheekbones. Then, overcome by emotion, he pulled Alastor into a deep, tender kiss. He poured everything he couldn't say into that kiss—his own fears, his growing feelings, his acceptance of Alastor's confession.
After a moment, Alastor made a soft sound against Lucifer's lips—something between a whimper and a sigh. His hips continued their steady rhythm, but his voice was strained when he spoke.
"Tell me…" Alastor panted, the words more plea than command. “Tell me that you want me to stay.”
Lucifer broke the kiss, his breath ragged. His heart swelled with affection and a fierce protectiveness.
Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around the younger man, pulling him close.
"I want you to stay, Alastor," Lucifer breathed, pouring every ounce of sincerity into the words. “With me. As long as you’ll have me.”
As their lips met, Lucifer felt a shudder run through Alastor's body. The younger man's hips stuttered, losing their steady rhythm.
Lucifer gasped into the kiss.
"Oh," Lucifer breathed, breaking the kiss to look up at Alastor in wonder. "You're…you're coming."
Alastor's face was contorted in vulnerability and pleasure, his usual composure completely shattered.
He buried his face in Lucifer's neck, muffling a low groan against his skin.
Lucifer held him tightly, one hand tangling in Alastor's hair while the other stroked soothingly down his back. Awed by the tremors running through Alastor's body, the heat of his breath against his neck.
"That's it," Lucifer murmured, his chest tight with emotion. "Let go, sweetheart. I've got you."
The significance of what had just happened wasn't lost on him. Alastor, who never let himself be vulnerable, who always maintained strict control, had allowed himself this moment of abandon in Lucifer's arms.
"Are you alright?" Lucifer asked softly, pressing a gentle kiss to Alastor's temple.
Alastor lifted his head, meeting Lucifer's gaze. His dark eyes were hazy with bliss, but there was also a hint of wonder there.
"I…yes," Alastor replied, his voice rough.
Lucifer cradled Alastor close, relishing the warm weight of the younger man's body against his own. He could feel Alastor's heart racing, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.
The air around them was thick with the scent of sex and sweat, a heady reminder of what they'd just shared.
“You don't have to pull away.” Lucifer murmured, running his fingers through Alastor's damp hair. “Stay with me."
Alastor remained silent, his face still hidden in the crook of Lucifer's neck. But he didn't move to disentangle himself, and Lucifer took that as a good sign.
The room was bathed in soft moonlight, casting everything in a dreamy, silver glow.
Outside, snow continued to fall silently, blanketing the world in white. It felt as though they were cocooned in their own private universe, separate from the rest of the world.
Lucifer's hands roamed gently over Alastor's back, tracing the contours of lean muscle and the ridges of his spine. He marveled at how different this felt from their previous encounters. The urgency and intensity had given way to something softer, more like making love…if he dared to think it.
Alastor finally lifted his head, meeting Lucifer's gaze. His eyes were soft, vulnerable in a way Lucifer had never seen before.
A stray lock of hair fell across his forehead, and Lucifer reached up to gently brush it away.
"I've never…" Alastor's voice was barely above a whisper. "Not like that."
Lucifer's heart swelled with affection. He cupped Alastor's face in his hands, thumbs gently caressing his cheekbones. "I'm honored," he said softly.
Alastor's lips quirked into a small, almost shy smile. It was so unlike his usual confident smirk that Lucifer felt his breath catch in his throat.
"Stay the night," Lucifer said, not quite a question but not quite a demand either. "Please. I want to fall asleep with you and wake up with you in the morning."
For a moment, Alastor looked uncertain.
Lucifer could almost see the walls trying to rebuild themselves behind his eyes. But then Alastor took a deep breath, visibly relaxing.
"Alright," he murmured, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Lucifer's lips. "I'll stay."
Some bottom Lucifer based specifically right after making a pact with him.... He owns your dick/strap and he's not letting go until daylight
I mentioned this before, but I love the idea of Lucifer being a bottom just because of how assertive he gets about having MC "stay over" throughout different events and the main story and how it just means he wants his ass beaten, eaten, and done til morning,,,
Dean would have said yes to Michael so quickly if he had known that Michael (and thus him) fucked Lucifer (and thus Sam) on a regular basis in the cage
i totally forgot to mention in this ask: lucifer moans michael’s name when he comes while dean moans “sammy”, and that’s when lucifer lets sam out for a brief moment. sam can feel being filled to the brim with his brother, dean’s hands gripping his hips, and hears dean moaning his name :)
ahhhh!!! yes! please!
and now Sam is stuck in his subconscious again, his last aware moments on repeat - Dean moaning his name and painting his insides white
MarginOfThought's Kinktober 2025 - Day 8: Cages (Lucifer x Michael)
Notes: Am I happy with this? Not really. Is the use of powers realistic? Probably not
------
Time worked differently in the cage and Michael was still trying to get used to it. What he did not need to get used to, no matter how much time had elapsed was his bitchy, dramatic little brother. What also didn’t change was the fact that Michael had to put him in his place and seeing how Lucifer had spent far too long alone in the cage not being disciplined, it was urgently needed.
And now might just be the perfect time to start again.
“Lucifer,” Michael warned before he pushed him against the cage wall, the cold metal biting into his little brother.
“Michael,” Lucifer ground out and tried to fight the hold the older had on him.
“I think you forgot your place,” Michael said, binding Lucifer’s wrists.
It didn’t stop the younger from thrashing but MIchael put a quick stop to it by making sure to keep him in place.
“You’re making this harder on yourself, you know that,” Michael tutted.
“You-”
“You better watch what you’re saying or I will gag you too,” Michael interrupted him casually, walking once around his brother who was kneeling on the cage floor by now.
Michael easily kicked Lucifer’s elbows out of the way, making the younger crash onto the floor with his shoulders though he still wasn’t satisfied with the position. Back in heaven Lucifer’s chest used to almost meet his knees, properly presenting himself to his superior brother.
“You’re out of practice, little brother,” Michael commented, making sure to sound as disappointed as he felt.
“Shut up,” Lucifer growled, earning himself a harsh smack to his ass.
Getting rid of their clothes was nothing more than a thought and Michael stopped for a second to admire the miles of milky skin he hadn’t seen in so long.
“You keep forgetting who’s in charge here, Luci,” Michael smacked his brother’s exposed ass again, the flesh turning pink.
Lucifer tried to squirm again but both he and Michael knew what would be happening next - it wasn’t the first time he had to discipline his little brother after all.
When not in their celestial form there was a certain amount of preparation needed for the act even when it was supposed to be a punishment but Michael didn’t bother as much as he had seen humans do. Spit had to do as he stretched Lucifer with two fingers immediately. Michael appreciated that Lucifer didn’t make too big of a dramatic performance out of the prep - not that he hadn’t in the past though, with complaints and whines.
Michael’s cock was rock hard and dripping by the time he finally entered Lucifer, the squeeze tight in these forms. He grabbed his brother’s hips and pulled them tight against him, sinking his cock all the way inside.
This was a punishment so Michael went as rough as he could, pushing and pulling at his brother, the wet slaps of skin on skin only broken by small muffles from Lucifer. The cold metal must be burning his cheek and shoulders and knees but Michael did not care, a few scrapes were to be expected while disciplining.
“I thought the cage would teach you well enough on its own but apparently we were wrong,” Michael said, hips unrelenting. “Don’t touch it-,” he growled, interrupting what he actually wanted to say in order to stop Lucifer from touching his own cock.
“But-”
“No! Father, you really need to be reminded of your place,” Michael growled, binding Lucifer’s hands again where he had apparently slipped in his pleasure.
The punishing rhythm continued until Lucifer’s breaths began to stutter and he clenched down on Michael’s cock. His little brother stiffened as much as he could as he came onto the cage floor.
“You better remember your place when we get out of here or-”
Michael’s threat was cut off by his own orgasm, his seed shooting deep inside his brother, another reminder to Lucifer of who was in charge here.
Lucifer!Sam should have tied Dean down and use him to his hearts content. He had been waiting way to long to feel big brother cock inside him again - it might not be Michael but it would be the next best thing
