Chapter Text
“Venus, if you will… Please send a little girl for me to thrill!” Lucifer sang, dancing his wife’s cup of tea across the bedroom. “A girl who wants my kisses and my arms, a girl with all the charms of yoooooou…”
“Give over!”
“Ahh, you love my singing really.” He shimmied directly in front of the TV. “Venus, make her fair, a lovely girl with sunlight in her hair- Y’know, if you still need a lead for this play…”
Lillith stared at him, deadpan, over the laptop. “Ohhh,” she said, “auditioning again, are we?”
“Why not? Nepotism be damned! I shan’t embarrass you!” More dad-dancing.
“May I have my tea, please?”
At last he gave up the comedic posturing, and delivered the mug with decorum. Last birthday, he’d got her a cordless kettle and minifridge for the bedroom, so she could keep up the endless stream of Earl Grey necessary to write.
“Here, my Lilly-flower.”
“Thanks. I’ll be done by midnight.” She tiredly massaged her nose.
“What’s wrong?”
“Two of my secondary characters need to be siblings for the plot to work,” she explained. “But that dynamic is… tricky. It’s an eternal struggle, to write from the inside with no experience.”
Lucifer agreed. Sadly, he had no insight to give, for he too was an only child (who happened to have skipped childhood). And without a frame of reference, how could they tell which media portrayals were accurate?
“There’s only one solution,” he said with glum acceptance. “We’ll just have to make Charlie a brother or sister.”
“You think so?”
They began to nuzzle. “For research purposes, of course,” added Lucifer.
“Quite the investment for this pesky script,” she said, her eyebrow coolly raised. “I think someone ’s just frisky!”
“Frisky is not the word.”
Lucifer couldn’t help it; she was as charming, serene and desirable as the day they met. What a day that was! They were renegade spirits - too prideful for Heaven, too headstrong for Eden - and so, instantly, irrevocably drawn together. Sex had a lot to do with it. She was quick to teach him, enthralling him to her exceptional curves and claws, and the nectar between her thighs.
Adam made a big mistake. Huge mistake.
For years, they did nothing but practice and make it their own. Even now, Lucifer had the delightful feeling they had still new ground to cover. Ah, but there was no disturbing Lilly at work. The laptop and tray were an effective barrier to pinning her and/or being pinned. And yet, his lady love had a new playful gleam in her eye. A few hours… time enough to plan.
“While you’re waiting,” she said, clasping his hand to her breast, “why not find us a sinner to play with?”
He gave her a squeeze, as if judging the ripeness of a mango. Someone to play with… Humans called it polyamory : a word with cursedly mixed linguistic roots. The Magnes considered it an immeasurable jouissance to bring new lovers into the mix. Sinners with intermediate experience were the most fun.
“As you wish,” Lucifer promised, circling her nipple. “Someone pretty-”
“But no prettier than us!”
“Oh, impossible! Someone with strength… initiative…”
“Mmmn, whom we can yet break a little!”
How he loved her.
*****
Lucifer’s eminence posed an obstacle to finding good playmates. When a person knew who he was, they’d often consent to his plans out of sheer terror, or slippery ambition. You’d think his good looks would be some sort of motivator, but no, that was more the case when Lilly went scouting.
So for anonymity’s sake, he assumed a more unassuming form, and proceeded to Tolbert’s, a lounge in the heart of the Pentagram. Time to shrug off the heavy mantle of royalty and meet the common people! The only things which betrayed his disguise were the ring on his left hand, and the horned shadow crawling alongside him.
Tolbert’s was a rangy establishment, which opened into a moderately-flooded bar room. The jukebox was playing 70s disco tonight, lifting Lucifer's already-cheerful spirits. Good music for good times!
He cast a curious eye over a gaggle of women engaged in joyous bacchanal. Not a patch on Lilly, but they might be worth his while. Some of Lucifer’s best sexual memories were entirely Sapphic, since he could take on female forms. All the same, he’d sweep the place and see what he could find. Only the best for his Lilly-flower.
On his left, a short flight of stairs led to rows of tables and couches. Something had changed under the new management: highly-dressed hookahs now formed the centerpiece of each table, which explained the smoky-strawberry tang in the air. The hookahs were aesthetically interesting, though Lucifer had little use for them.
His goat-shadow passed over a group of four at one of the tables. Lucifer examined them. All formally-attired men, in the midst of a deal or trade. Two of them were reptilian oafs in ill-fitting suits. A prickly cat-demon sat opposite, with his red wings largely obscuring the fourth member of the group. Lucifer tutted. He’d always assumed demons to be unappealing by design: further punishment for their lives of transgression. As God made the human body in His image - exquisite, artful, blah-di-blah - so He made demons abhorrently animal - horns, claws and spaded tails.
Well, whatever point He was trying to make, it didn’t stop sinners from fucking each other’s brains out, now did it?
The cat-demon left his seat to go for a piss, and Lucifer saw Number 4. Well, that was a bit more like it! Human-looking for a start, and exceedingly toothsome. Literally! As he grimaced at the reptiles, Lucifer glimpsed rows of sharp, yellow fangs.
Satisfied by the bigger picture, Lucifer took in the specifics. Oyster-grey skin. Long hair to grasp, and buzzed hair to scrape under his fingers. Elegantly-clawed hands. A tapered waistline, like the bowl and stem of a champagne glass. (Lilly would like that; many was the time she’d muscled Luci into one of her corsets.)
Yes, he thought, edging up the steps, there was much to like about this fair creature: in this light, in this momentary spell.
“Well, whither has he disappeared to? That’s what I want to know!”
Only now, as Fair Creature’s fuzzing, crackling voice carried over the music, did Lucifer realize who he was. He knew that voice from a quondam series of violent broadcasts. Unmistakably, it was Alastor the Radio Demon, in his resting form.
His skin prickled with excitement. No need to sweep the rest of Tolbert’s, then. This was too good to pass up.
But how to approach him?
Lucifer resisted the urge to intrude on the meeting. Instead, he swept back down the stairs and fought his way to the bar. As he waited for the barkeep’s attention, Lucifer leaned over the bar-top, stealing an empty snifter from below.
Now, to give Alastor something he’d really enjoy. Lucifer swiped his claw through the air, tearing it like gauze. Blood steadily filled the glass.
The barkeep, an Englishman called Vaurien, came over with his strange, characteristic stoop. “Oh,” he said, recognizing the disguise from past visits. “Evenin’, uh… Louie, wazzit?”
Correct. The name he often took when he went slumming.
“Would you please take this to Alastor?” Lucifer asked, pointing. “And tell him…” He paused. Something to give Alastor an easy out. “Tell him his friend in the black cloak is here.”
The mirrored wall behind the bar allowed Lucifer to spy on the table of four. He saw Alastor’s bemused half-smile as he accepted the glass, then caught his eye through the mirror. Lucifer’s current form was a fulvous demon with dark hair and horns: nothing exceptional.
With a miniature shrug, Alastor turned his body back to the poorly-dressed duo and raised the glass. He treated it with suspicion, holding it to his nose, and Lucifer waited. There was no mistaking the drink for wine; blood had a unique viscosity and smell which Alastor was bound to know intimately.
Soon those dangerous eyes flashed again in Lucifer’s direction. Alastor wasted little time in gathering his things from the hookah table. So far, so good. Glass in hand, the Radio Demon excused himself and hopped down the stairs. Lucifer was just deciding his opening line when a random sinner came out of right field, elbowing Lucifer aside.
Manners, manners, he thought.
That very moment, the sinner was thrown aside with a surprised “HORK!” and hit the wall. Then Alastor claimed his spot, buttoning a single button on his suit jacket. Well, well! Such a casual display of power!
Lucifer seized this as a conversational in. “Marking your territory?”
Alastor turned to him. “He shoved you first!” he said, then placed his drink on the bar mat. “Fair’s fair!”
“Ah, yes. Common decency is not so common.”
“Indeed!”
There was something shrewd about him - suspecting, even. Lucifer indicated the glass. “Not to your taste, I take it.”
“I assumed it was a veiled threat, so… perhaps we could get that out of the way… ‘friend’.”
Alastor said this in a calm but cautionary voice, which just about turned Lucifer’s spine to marshmallow. It sounded far better than the overaggressive machismo one expected from lesser demons; this one was secure in his own power.
Would he be so secure, if he knew to whom he spoke? One could only hope.
“You misunderstand,” Lucifer replied, tapping the glass. “It was a mere token of admiration. No-one’s ever bought you a drink before?”
“They have. But I don’t care for poison, so-”
“Ah, silly me! I’ll pour you another.” Now Lucifer had his attention, he took a fresh glass and repeated the trick, the blood flowing darker this time. Alastor was interested, realizing their powers were at least comparable.
“Nicely done,” he murmured. “Where… where exactly does it come from?”
“Squeezed from a most deserving fruit,” Lucifer said, smirking. “What? Still suspicious?” He tapped the veins of his wrist. “This is a faucet I reserve for special friends.”
Alastor gave him another look, making quite clear he found Lucifer strange. It was interesting, the gamut of emotion Alastor could express through that perpetual smile. At the very least, he took a swig of the new blood, licking every trace from his upper lip. Well, if Lucifer was smitten at first sight, now he was positively obsessed. He wanted this slice of temptation very badly - and he couldn’t have him if Alastor presumed him to be a tawny weirdo. He might have to reveal himself after all, just to have a chance.
“You’re Alastor,” he said, extending a hand.
“Yes,” said Alastor, taking it.
The handshake they shared was promisingly firm. It could be firmer, Lucifer thought: he’d love to see if Alastor could shatter his metacarpal bones. In a swift, slightly giddy move, Lucifer rested his ring hand on top. The ring was impossible to miss: it carried the royal seal and shone like an exterminator weapon. Sure enough, Alastor saw. He froze a little, looking from Lucifer’s hand to his face. “And you are?”
“Call me Louie,” said Lucifer, “if you like.”
“Ah.”
Well, he wasn’t fleeing in a panic - that was good at least - but Alastor’s demeanor certainly changed, and not in a good way. Lucifer cursed himself for moving too fast. Instead of baiting the hook, he’d gone and thrown the whole can of worms into the water.
He relaxed his grip on Alastor’s hand, but leaned in, lowering his voice. “I thought you looked bored with those lizards,” he confided. “If you’d honor me with your company, I’ll make sure we’re left well alone.”
Alastor hesitated, but left to get rid of his associates. From the looks of it, he was foisting the reptiles off on his cat-demon friend. In the meantime, Lucifer sat, listened to the jukebox and tried to remain calm. He just had to work on his usual charm. A little vetting, a little flirting, and by midnight-!
His thoughts were interrupted as Alastor returned, snatching his glass again. He drained it quickly. The blood was hardly fine wine to him; more like the pail of water Pheidippides must have dreamt about. Hopping off the stool, Lucifer could appreciate Alastor’s superior height, owing somewhat to the hair and antlers. He was not as tall as Lillith, however.
“Shall we?”
Lucifer swept him away, towards a curtained-off room at the rear of the building, deliberately close to a fire exit. His hand drifted to the small of Alastor’s back and stayed there, relatively unchallenged.
“I don’t suppose you’re going to punish me,” Alastor said, “for that mess I made five years ago.”
Lucifer smiled. “The cleanup was extensive,” he admitted. “But power is anyone’s game! I’d be quite the hypocrite to think otherwise. And I have no quarrel with you, Alastor.”
“No?”
He patted the side of Alastor’s face. “No.” The grey skin was so flawless, Lucifer expected it to be cold as marble. It was warm, in fact. Very much so.
Alastor did not appreciate this sudden attention. In one fluid movement, he grabbed Lucifer’s wrist and pulled it down. His grasp was stronger still. An exciting strength!
“Oh, what-ho! He does have some fight in him!” Lucifer playfully matched Alastor’s expression - but he felt his own pulse betray him, hammering in the space between his wrist and Alastor’s thumb.
“I’m not for sale, Louie. That’s all.”
Ah, of course. He has his pride.
Lucifer waited until Alastor relaxed his grip. “Worry not,” he said, “I wouldn’t do you the insult of paying for you. That’s not what this is! Just… sit with me a while, if you’d care to.”
There was little point maintaining this form, so Lucifer changed. His plain black suit became brilliant white, as did his flesh, and his hair grew blond from root to tip.
Alastor let go at once. His face was difficult to gauge, but he appeared to resolve his hesitancy, and nodded. With Lucifer leading, the two proceeded through the curtain.
*****
Usually, Lucifer was a born seducer. His usual was a mixture of flattery, and the kind of touch that suggested sexual knowledge of lifetimes gathered. But first, it behooved him to create the right atmosphere. For better or worse, Alastor knew who he was. It had to be addressed.
He began by making himself comfortable, casting off his coat. “This low, low place is a blessing,” he told Alastor. “I can go for an hour without being noticed.”
Alastor undid the single suit-button, creating space to breathe as he sat to Lucifer’s right. “You could go anywhere, any hour with that disguise!” he said. “Nearly perfect, except the ring.”
“Thank you. Sadly, it doesn’t work on my friends! Most have learned to see through the camouflage. Something about my walk, I think, or facial movements? They never fucking tell me.”
Alastor laughed.
“What about you?” Lucifer asked, conjuring more glasses. “Do you ever tire of being recognized?”
“It depends,” Alastor said thoughtfully. “Sometimes I attract the wrong kind of people.”
“Oh?”
“You know… self-seekers! People who want to climb the ladder without having earned it.”
“Ah! Yes! I know the type.”
“And sometimes, their fleeing before me is… an inconvenience, if I need them for something!” Alastor said, his static decreasing as he added, “though I wouldn’t change it.”
Lucifer felt a desire to flee right now, on the off-chance it would make him happy. Instead, he nodded and gripped the edge of his seat.
They switched from blood to brandy, and after two of those, Lucifer was ready for more fun. First, he pulled out his best-loved party trick. He became Alastor’s twin, which was sufficient to make him snort and slam his drink upon the table.
“My word!” Alastor exclaimed, then peered into his own visage with naked delight. “How uncanny!”
This was Alastor’s prettiest smile yet, and who could blame him? Anyone would be amused to see themselves from the outside, their reflection made flesh; and Alastor was a sight for sore eyes, even to himself!
Lucifer hoped he’d done Fair Creature justice. The man did seem convinced; he even waved, expecting Lucifer to mirror his actions; then he caught himself - “Oh!” - and laughed at the silliness of it all.
Would it be wrong, Lucifer wondered, to make love to his wife as Alastor, if the real thing turned him down? She simply had to see this. Reminded of his reason for seducing Alastor in the first place, Lucifer took the form of his lady love in a long black gown.
“Do you know who this is?”
Alastor’s eyes widened. “Oh. Yes! Mrs. Magne.” His gaze fixed with determination above the neckline, which forced him to crane his neck.
“Yes,” Lucifer said in her voice. “Beautiful, isn’t she?”
“Of course.”
“Do you like her?” Lucifer teased. He crossed one leg over the other.
“Well, we’ve never met!”
“You’re meeting her now,” said Lucifer. “It’s not a trick question, my friend. Besides, I know her well enough to know she likes you.”
This only confused Alastor, but he nodded and retrieved his glass. “Do you take requests?” he quickly asked.
Now it was getting interesting. Lucifer nodded and shuffled closer, on the pretext of hearing better. “What did you have in mind?”
“If it’s not the most awful bore… You must get this all the time!”
“Well, go on!”
“I’d love to see… your very first disguise.”
Again he was Lucifer, showing Alastor the new light in his eyes. “Ahh… You want the serpent.”
“Sure.”
Why not? The old ones always were the best! This time he stretched out the transformation, appealing to Alastor’s inner showman. Gradually, he let the dark red scales prickle through his skin. His neck elongated; his limbs shrank, and Lo, he looked as he had all those eons ago. Alastor’s eyes were wider still, excited.
The original serpent, of course, was a four-legged creature - until His Bloody Greatness cursed it to crawl on its belly forevermore. To complete the effect, Lucifer shed his limbs, rose from them like a cobra, and reshaped around his middle. Ta-dah!
Alastor put down his glass and applauded. “Ha! Wonderful.”
“Issssn’t it jusssst?”
It was good to finally earn the same fascination as Alastor held for his double! No doubt the brandy was taking hold, signaled by the red blotches around Alastor’s nose.
Lucifer took shameless advantage of this form, slithering onto Alastor’s arm. The worsted suit fabric made it easy, and just as gradually, he dressed him from wrist to wrist like a feather boa. There was nothing constricting about it; if Alastor wanted, he could peel him off right now. He did not. But he was tense around the shoulders.
“Am I meant to feel threatened?” Alastor wondered aloud; his body vibrated slightly with his inner radio. Then he shivered as Lucifer’s scales met the back of his neck.
“I sssuppossse you’ve asssked yourssself that,” Lucifer hissed, “for the lassst hour,” and he chuckled.
Alastor straightened. “Wouldn’t wonder!” he replied in his lower register.
There you go again, thought Lucifer, making marshmallow of me! It was now or never. He slithered back the way he came, coil over coil, and spoke his natural voice into Alastor’s ear.
“What you imagine,” he stated, “is the furthest thing from the truth. In fact, you intrigue me. If I show my power, it is only to lay it at your feet. Do you see yourself?" He paused for effect. “Wearing the serpent.”
Myriad emotions moved over Alastor’s face: surprised, then doubtful, mistrusting. He must've expected Lucifer to renege on his promise of laying it down, to catch him in a trap. That all faded when he beheld the narrow pupils of Lucifer’s eyes. The serpent was relaxed. Understanding the immense privilege he’d been given, Alastor’s own eyes darted to the curtain. No interlopers, no peeping toms. Only George Benson on the jukebox.
Before Lucifer could offer to petrify the curtain, for privacy’s sake, Alastor went to adjust it himself. This was no mean feat, for he carried a serpent the same weight as a man. Alastor paused at the curtain, catching the disco beat. Lucifer felt him tap his foot.
Oh, this could be entertaining.
“Do you dance, Alastor?”
In lieu of reply, he launched straight into it: mostly leg-work, with occasional dips and spins. It was clear he enjoyed wearing Lucifer, stretching his arms for him like branches of the forbidden tree. What fun! Alastor was much better company when he relaxed his guard. Inspired, Lucifer conjured an apple for Alastor’s left hand: something to chase and bite on the way across.
"Ack!" the serpent uttered. That rush of juice was a real and abrupt kick in the salivary glands. Then he was a man again, the fruit clenched in his teeth. Alastor staggered slightly as his dancing prop disappeared, but Lucifer caught him.
“You are not how I imagined!” Alastor said.
Lucifer passed him the apple, mouth-to-mouth, so he could speak. “Aw, really? I thought my reputation preceded me.” His arms snaked up and rested on Alastor’s shoulders. How he longed to touch his skin again! “Now, where were we? Ah yes… laying down my power.”
Alastor returned the apple the same way - playing the game. “Tell me, Louie: how d’you see our night ending?”
In unison.
Again, Lucifer unburdened his mouth. “You and Lilly really should get acquainted,” he said. “If you can take direction, she’s a real firecracker.” He paused, feeling his pulse jump. “Though I am tempted to keep you a secret.”
He leaned in to take the apple, just as Alastor dropped it, and his yellow fangs closed around Lucifer’s lip. Accidental or not, it hardly mattered - Lucifer sank into it anyway. He practically laughed with relief, now that Alastor was responding properly. He could, in fact, be adventuresome! Thank fuck! The fangs clipped together hard, making Lucifer cry out. His arms stiffened around Alastor’s shoulders, and his mind was alive and buzzing with possibility. The two men parted, then sat with urgency; it seemed important to be grounded to something.
“What’s your ceiling for pain?” Alastor wanted to know, lingering near Lucifer's bitten lip.
“Hers is moderate,” he confessed, recollecting the few times Lilly had assumed that role. “And for all my complaining, I can take a great deal.”
Alastor mouthed the word ‘complaining’ to himself, and grinned.
Somehow, miraculously, Lucifer had recovered from the most awkward introduction in recent memory. Somehow, his eccentricities hadn’t poisoned Alastor against him; and right now, he ought to be closing the deal, walking Alastor out of this smoky lounge and into his car. But their immediate privacy, and a rising urge to figure some things out, compelled them to stay. Lucifer began to whisper in his ear. There was something of the serpent about Alastor too: his careful predation, his bite… his stranglehold, perhaps. Tearing off his belt, Lucifer pressed it into his hands. He goaded Alastor. Take me back, just as far as the gate.
It did the trick.
“Turn,” Alastor said.
Lucifer turned, loosening his collar. He prepared to feel the thin, sharp pressure of the belt, echoing countless experiences with Lilly in what she called her mental dungeon.
Instead, Alastor cut out the middleman and hooked his hand around Lucifer’s throat. There was the true measure of Fair Creature’s strength, matched only by cruel, pointed claws on either side. Lucifer had but a sliver of breath, and no way to swallow at all.
The music slowed. There was an unexplained ghostly fragrance in the air. He saw it. Hookah smoke? How had Alastor done that without touching it?
For Alastor’s sake, he gave a few choked gasps and pretended to struggle. The hook-hand got caught around his jaw. Alastor shifted closer, quite breathless himself. Delighted to have the King of Hell in his clutches! The hand squeezed tighter. Somewhere in all of this, his long fingers pinched Lucifer’s nose shut. Lucifer’s cursed heart punched desperately against his ribs, and still Alastor held tight.
“Ghgghgghhhh—”
Lucifer was drowning on dry land. He squirmed and thrashed, but stayed so, so close to the man who was killing him. He was no stranger to this crisis of breath! Lillith had often brought him here, sometimes before a mirror, and he knew the drill. Sight unseen, his face grew purple and his eyes bulged. Spittle formed at the corners of his mouth. The ugly, ugly death, at the hands of a skilled, beautiful specimen. A delightful feeling fluttered around his abdomen, and teased lower every second, and that was what he focused on.
Then he saw his old friend, the glittering, fairy-green light. His heart was slowing. With Alastor flush against his writhing body, he prepared to leave an all-too-delighted corpse.
Two things happened, almost simultaneously: Alastor released his dominant hand, and with the other, swiped an index claw along Lucifer’s inner thigh. Lucifer gasped like a fish out of water. In a blind, stupid moment of relief and thwarted ecstasy, he slid right off the seat and banged his shin on the hookah table. Quite the undignified dismount, but he didn’t care.
Alastor dragged him up by the elbow. “Whoops-a-daisy!” he laughed. Then he spun Lucifer around, inspecting him from his shaking ankles to his newly-florid complexion. The Radio Demon’s countenance was much improved. His hair was shaken-up, but otherwise he looked about five years younger!
Lucifer was mesmerised. He could not look away. Blood and pain… that could be arranged.
Once the burning in his lungs had ceased, he pulled Alastor in for an ostensible pat on the back, and, with a tight embrace, made damn sure Alastor felt his hard excitement against his leg. Lucifer wanted more from this gorgeously skilled plaything, but not yet - they ought to be making tracks. Mustn’t keep a lady waiting. In his sudden haste to exit the club, Lucifer shifted back into the tawny, dark-haired demon, and wrapped himself in the cloak.
“Hmmn, maybe work on your future disguises,” Alastor remarked. “You look like a Terracotta vampire.”
Good gravy, what a descriptor. Lucifer could always laugh at himself, but afterwards he wagged a finger at the Radio Demon. “Don’t get too cocky,” he said, and winked. “Let’s get out of here.”
As they swept out of the back room - decorously, to attract neither feline nor reptilian attention - Lucifer was surfing on a triumphant wave. Yes, he’d had a shaky start with Alastor, but the risk of showing him unconditional trust had paid off beautifully. He was just like Lilly: utterly incredible, if you gave him room to work. Already their magnetism was growing (he hoped it would continue to grow on the car ride home) and upon the witching hour… well!
Lilly would be so pleased to have two serpents to entertain her.