If you're still accepting prompts: Lucifer and Alastor are getting closer and closer, and Lucifer makes it clear he's interested in Alastor sexually. Alastor's uninterested in sex with anyone, but goes along with it because he thinks that's what he's supposed to do in a relationship. Lucifer stops when he realizes Alastor's dissociating through the whole thing.
They fell together like a storm. Furiously, without regard for those who might be caught in it. It started with a few raindrops – a few petty insults here and there, nothing too serious. But before they knew it, they had graduated to psy-ops (oh dear, your favorite duck is gone? You must learn to take better care of your things!), campaigns of terror that sent the residents of the hotel fleeing for cover, and full-on fist fights.
And finally, during one of those fights, they found the eye of the storm: an accidental brush of the lips. So quick, so innocent. Easy to brush off as if nothing had happened.
But Lucifer found his heart was beating so fast it felt like a buzzing in his ears, and he knew he had found the truth of it. The reason why Alastor’s presence was like a perpetual itch he couldn’t scratch. Why he couldn’t take his eyes off of the demon whenever he was in the room.
So he kissed him again (furiously) and Alastor had kissed him back (tentatively).
Things didn’t change much after that. But Lucifer found himself making excuses to touch him, his fingers trailing a second or two longer on his chest when he grabbed his shirt during a fight, or lingering at his back when he pushed him out of the way. There were more of those sweeter moments too – cups of coffee shared in silence as they watched the morning sun rise over Pentagram City, reading together in front of the fire when everyone else had gone to bed, Alastor making biting (but helpful) comments as Lucifer glanced over the agenda for the annual Hell Assembly. Lucifer started moving some of the stuff from his workshop to Alastor’s studio, and when Alastor worked on his script for his next radio show, Lucifer would tinker with his experiments. And Alastor only got a little mad when he accidentally set the curtains on fire.
They fell together so naturally that Lucifer didn’t even realize he had fallen in love until he found himself making Alastor a cup of coffee just the way Alastor liked it – black as sin, with cinammon sprinkled in – and he turned around to find Alastor had made him a cup just the way Lucifer liked it – a healthy splash of milk with five sugars. It was automatic, a thoughtless habit born of a hundred mornings where they’d done the exact same thing.
“I’d like to keep you forever.”
“What?” Alastor repeated.
Alastor didn’t say it back for several weeks. Lucifer tried not to let it affect him, because love was freely given and Alastor didn’t have any obligation to love him the same, but Lord in Heaven it hurt. Were the rumors true? Was he really heartless?
Then one night, when Lucifer was bent over a particularly difficult blueprint, he found the room had gone eerily silent. He glanced over at Alastor, who, instead of studying the current events in Hell for his latest broadcast, was staring at him with an intensity that made him nervous.
Alastor melted into the shadows, and reappeared inches away.
“Alastor, what in the world–”
“Hush.” Alastor pressed the very edge of his claw against his mouth. “That’s quite enough out of you. I’m trying to concentrate.”
On what? Lucifer thought.
Suddenly, Alastor leaned forward, and their lips met. It was just as delicious as the last time, and Lucifer felt himself melting into the kiss. Then Alastor’s tongue prodded against his lips, asking for entrance. Lucifer gave it, letting out an embarrassing moan as the taste of smoke and freshly roasted coffee and the barest hint of spice invaded his mind. He pushed forward, toppling them both onto the ground as his hand brushed against the hem of Alastor’s shirt.
And Alastor, for his part, did…nothing. He didn’t touch him back, but he didn’t push him away either. Lucifer took that as a win and brushed his fingers across the bare, smooth skin of Alastor’s stomach.
Alastor stiffened, his muscles locking in place. Lucifer glanced up, breaking their kiss. “Is everything okay?” He asked gently.
Alastor’s expression was as unfathomable as the deep, but he nodded. “I thought I told you not to talk.”
Lucifer frowned. “Are you sure–”
Alastor leapt forward, their mouths crashing into each other again. “Don’t. Talk.” He hissed in between desperate, ragged breaths. Lucifer groaned and resumed his exploration, running his hands up and down the hard planes of Alastor’s chest, his broad shoulders, his thin waist, his hard hips – so different from Lilith’s voluptuous curves, but different was good. His pulse fluttered like a bird’s as he reached for Alastor’s belt and started tugging.
“Alastor,” he moaned, arching up to see if Alastor was feeling as good as he was – and abruptly stopped moving.
Alastor looked…empty. Far away. His eyes were like glass marbles, staring past and through Lucifer into the quiet darkness beyond.
Lucifer hissed and jerked away. Alastor stirred, as if rousing himself from a deep sleep. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” Lucifer nearly snarled. “If you hated it, you should have told me! You didn’t need to put yourself through this!” A bitter taste filled his mouth. His hands felt dirty somehow, and he held them behind his back, as if that would somehow make them both forget what had just happened.
“I don’t hate it,” Alastor insisted.
“Liar, liar, pants on fire.”
“It wasn’t terrible,” he amended.
“Fantastic,” Lucifer groaned. “I’m just going to – I’ll just see myself out, shall I?” He tried to escape to the safety of his room, but Alastor’s hand wrapped around his wrist, holding him tightly in place.
“But this is what people do, isn’t it?” He huffed, his strange red eyes gleaming with an emotion that Lucifer had never seen on him before. “When you–” He broke off, as if he couldn’t quite make himself say it. “When they’re like us,” he finally finished.
“Like us?” Understanding hit him like a lightning strike. “Oh. Alastor, did you do all this because I told you I loved you?”
“And I…feel similarly for you,” he choked out, looking like he was contemplating jumping out the window while he said it. “And people who feel this way –”
“Alastor, this is you and me.” Gently, so as not to scare him away, Lucifer held his hand and pressed it to his heart. “When have we ever done things the way other people do? That’s the beauty of relationships – we can write our own rules, and to hell with what other people might think. Besides, we’re not exactly the conventional couple. I think I hate you almost as much as I love you. And now I know you love me too. You put your own comfort aside to try and make us work.” He swallowed, running his finger along Alastor’s sharp jawline. A love he hadn’t known since the Fall filled his spirit, and the room lit up with a gentle golden glow. “Thank you.”
The relief emanating from Alastor was nearly palpable. He swallowed, then wrapped his hand around Lucifer’s. “One small correction.”
“I think I hate you more than I love you.”
Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Of course you do. Tacky prick."
"It takes one to know one."
