Chapter Text
Warning: Explicit Content.
Adam was confused.
He was in a surreal situation. Never in his millennia of existence had he imagined ending up like this. Yet, it was happening: he had a vibrating urethral plug shoved into his cock.
He panted heavily, his blackened, swollen eyes locking with Lute's golden ones. She pressed her forehead against his, panting as well. Nothing compared to the guttural grunts forcing their way through his clenched jaws.
Lute was beautiful. He had forgotten just how stunning she was. And now, amid all this pleasure, completely naked and out of his reach, her beauty was devouring him from the inside, like a feral beast.
He liked this.
He would never admit it.
He couldn't admit it.
He wasn't like Lucifer—that submissive fool who loved being wrecked by the tentacles of a furry demon.
"...Maybe..." Lute's hissing voice sliced through the mix of heavy breaths.
Adam's half-transformed eyes widened slightly. He swallowed thickly, attempting to clear the knot in his throat.
"...Maybe it's not enough."
He barely had time to feel her slender fingers gripping his unbearably stiff cock before a sharp pang of pain shot down his spine and lodged in his brain.
His eyes flew open, and he let out a roar, jerking forward. The steel cuffs binding his wrists groaned under the strain of his effort to break free.
"FUCK, Lu—"
A sharp snap interrupted him. "Kkfhg!"
Something was shoved into his mouth—a gag-ball.
Adam tensed so much that the veins along his neck and the back of his hands stood out starkly against his massive, muscular body. He was huge—intimidating to any human eye. Towering and powerful. And Lute? She was barely half his size in comparison. But that didn't faze her.
If anything, it excited her.
With startling speed, as Adam struggled to comprehend what had just been forced into his mouth, Lute slipped behind him and fastened the tiny buckle at the back of his neck. Then, climbing onto his back, she straddled him, forcing him to collapse forward onto the mattress with a creak of the bed's wooden slats. He landed, kneeling, his massive body trembling under the strain.
Saliva dripped from the gaps in the gag, trailing down his chin as he fought to swallow. The plug's vibrations thrummed, and he couldn't tell if it was the sound or the sensation between his legs that was making his head spin.
Positioning herself over his bound wrists, Lute pressed her wet heat against the taut muscles of his back. Her knees hovered above the mattress, keeping her suspended while she relished the tremors rippling through his frame.
The room was cloaked in a red-tinged dimness, barely filtered by the heavy curtains. The air was thick—leather, sweat, sex. Above all, Adam's intense pleasure saturated the sheets.
How long had they been like this? He couldn't tell anymore. The pain and pleasure had intertwined into a deadly spiral, pulsating directly against his cock and shooting into his brain.
Lute chuckled—a sharp, cutting sound that slithered through the shadows. Leaning forward, her full, bare breasts pressed against his broad back.
"You're slow to catch on, aren't you?" she murmured, her lips brushing against his ear. Her fingers glided down his sweat-slick side, sending shivers coursing through him. "I learn... in ways you can't imagine."
"Gghk," Adam growled, muffled by the gag.
Her fingers trailed along his rigid, sticky length, causing him to jolt beneath her. Perched atop his back, Lute swayed her legs idly in the air, matching his tremors. Resting her cheek against his neck, her free hand combed through his damp, brown hair, brushing it gently away from his ears. A tenderness that sharply contrasted with the brutal scene.
Adam's face was a distorted mask of pain and pleasure, blended into exhaustion. He hadn't resisted initially—he owed her that much—but now, even if he wanted to, he couldn't. His sharp teeth scraped against the gag, saliva dripping uncontrollably as silent tears spilled from his swollen eyes.
It was taking forever for him to come this time. He had climaxed too many times, and his endurance had skyrocketed. He prayed this would be the last one, or it might actually kill him—not that he could die of a heart attack, being a demon and all.
"As for the rest," Lute hissed, her fingers sliding once more along his slick flesh, "I found these toys in the room. No idea who left them here, but... I knew they'd be just your type. Like this one..."
Her hand traveled up to his flushed, swollen tip, her index finger hooking through the ring of the urethral plug.
"...This."
With a sharp tug, she pulled it out.
Adam's eyes bulged as he screamed through the gag, the pain exploding into a final, shattering ecstasy. Trembling violently, he collapsed onto the mattress, his release spilling across the sheets.
Lute slid off his back and rose, casually smoothing her silver hair. She moved silently around the bed, her movements punctuated only by Adam's ragged breathing.
Standing before him, she leaned down, her golden, icy gaze locking onto his.
"I had fun," she said with a venomous smile. "Twelve hours... and we do it again."
She unfastened the gag with deliberate slowness, letting it drop to the floor.
"Bhouaf! Fuck!" Adam spat, finally able to speak. He slumped onto the bed, his massive frame making the wood creak under his weight. His blackened eyes rose to meet hers, twisted with anger, but Lute's gaze remained as sharp as a blade.
<...> The woman's silence left him speechless.
Lute's expression, however, no longer carried the vengeful anger that had defined their earlier confrontation. Now, it held only a disturbing calm, the reflection of a more complex and indecipherable emotion.
Adam swallowed hard, trying to steady himself. Silence had returned to the room, so thick it amplified the sound of his own heartbeat. He felt unbearably exposed—more than he'd ever been. And damn it, he was still tied up, completely naked, lying face down on the mattress. Pressing his forehead into the covers, he licked his lips, cleaning away the saliva still dripping from them. Meanwhile, he sensed Lute moving again around the bed.
With a heavy sigh, he let his forehead sink into the mattress. Every muscle in his body throbbed, tired and sore, but the real weight wasn't physical. Something immense and dark had opened within him, a void that seemed to turn the bed beneath him into a bottomless pit.
"I didn't think it would end like this..." he muttered, staring at the blankets with a bitter smile.
Lute tilted her head slightly, her gaze stern but free of unnecessary accusations.
"It's not over, Adam. This..." she gestured vaguely with her hand, indicating them both, "is just the beginning."
Adam swallowed, unable to find the words to respond. Lute sighed deeply, as if trying to contain something too vast to express. Then, with a decisive motion, she unlocked the cuffs, freeing his wrists.
Relief was immediate: Adam's body relaxed, and a soft groan escaped him as he clumsily sat up. He instinctively checked between his legs, ensuring his sacred cock was still intact, before running a hand through his sweaty hair. He looked up at Lute... beautiful. Completely naked, without a trace of what he'd put her through just hours earlier. His eyes involuntarily drifted to her most intimate part, but shame made him turn away abruptly. He blushed, his brows knitting together in a mix of discomfort and guilt.
"It was your way of handling anger... with me..." Lute began, her voice soft but heavy with restrained tension. "...that made me realize how broken you are."
Those words made him flinch. He turned toward her, not knowing what to say.
"Not that it's an excuse," Lute continued, her tone steady. "What you did, Adam, isn't something I can ignore. But it's not something I can understand without knowing everything."
Adam lowered his gaze, his shoulders slumped forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands nervously clasped together.
"I don't know where to start..." he admitted in a faint voice.
Lute raised an eyebrow, watching him silently.
"Maybe from the beginning. The last time you saw Eve."
That name pierced his chest like a blade. A wave of nausea washed over him, but Lute's gaze remained fixed on him, unyielding. There was no pity in her eyes, but neither was there condemnation. Only a sincere and unrelenting demand.
"Eve..." he whispered, the name heavy on his lips. "I saw her. But it wasn't her, fuck." He swallowed, avoiding Lute's gaze. "She was corrupted. The primordial evil... it took her completely. There was never anything I could do." He bowed his head, burying his hands in his brown hair, his voice breaking. "Millennia of fucking slaughter... I died for this."
"So that's why you let Lilith stay in Heaven?" Lute asked coldly.
Adam nodded slowly.
"Yeah..."
Lute didn't move, but something in her eyes cracked.
"And you thought destroying me was the way to free yourself from that pain?" she asked, cutting.
Adam shook his head, desperate.
"I didn't want to hurt you, Lute, but..." He stopped as if what he was about to admit was too difficult to say. He'd never confessed it to anyone, never opened up to anyone. Maybe only Sera had seen the most fragile sides of him, but now it was all rising in his throat, intensifying his nausea. Actually, there was Lucifer. He'd opened up to him. That damned stopper. He tried to swallow it down—maybe Lucifer himself—choking on the effort. He might actually throw up.
"The helplessness, the anger, the failure... they became uncontrollable. It's like everything I touch gets corrupted, and in the end... even you."
Lute approached, sitting beside him on the bed.
"You chose to run away," she said calmly, her tone firm and full of meaning.
Adam looked up at her, his red eyes swollen with tears.
"You let your pain become an excuse. An excuse to hurt and to run. But I'm not Eve. I'm not your original sin." She leaned closer, her face inches from his, her warm breath brushing his skin. "I'm here. And if we're going to find a way to fix this... you need to stop seeking redemption by destroying what's left."
Redemption. Who the fuck wants it? Certainly not me. I'm not going back to those bastards, but... Adam felt the weight of her words crash down on him like a waterfall. He was frozen, unsure of what to do or say next. She decided for him.
With a small, exasperated smile, Lute cupped Adam's face with both hands, her lips brushing tentatively against his.
"Things happened the way they did. You can keep looking back... or look ahead. Ahead of you, there's me. Do you see me, Adam?"
The fire exploding within him made him move. He grabbed her wrists and face with both hands.
"Yes." And he kissed her.
A deep, intense kiss, loaded with meaning. They sought in each other something more than simple contact.
"Don't relax too much, Adam. You still have a sentence to serve."
"Fuck!"
...
Months passed...
Hell isn't rebuilt in a day—or even in years. After all, magic is the devil's child. New sinners were pouring in from Earth in droves, and there were no longer any exterminations to cull their numbers. There were no more angelic weapons either; once the situation became known, Carmilla—fortunately still alive along with her daughters—had ensured that all dangerous objects, along with the VoxTek employees, were made to disappear.
For Valentino and Velvette, it was particularly challenging to manage the aftermath without Vox. But after so many years together, they had learned a thing or two about the tasks he usually handled. Recovering and repairing himself was no small feat for the TV Demon, and even now, the process wasn't over. The CEO of VoxTek remained in recovery, but that hadn't stopped Pentagram City and the other circles from beginning to rebuild.
A new Prince of the Circle of Sloth was needed—the previous one had met their end—and perhaps this would be one of Charlie's first tasks.
Charlie, who was now approaching the newly reconstructed Royal Palace, meticulously restored thanks to Lucifer's magic and Alastor's witchcraft. The Radio Demon, now the Custodian of Purgatory alongside Kalfu, had made an immense effort—for the sake of everyone's sanity—not to impose his overly flamboyant touch on its design. Yes, because the Queen had insisted on her home being exactly as it had been where she was born and raised.
While a semblance of "normal" life—at least by Hell's standards—had resumed in the streets and buildings around them, and even Cannibal Town was nearly rebuilt, the others were waiting for her.
Angel Dust, Husk, Niffty, Cherry Bomb, Alastor, Lucifer... even Sera and Emily were there, having descended for this important occasion, accompanied by Michael as God's direct ambassador. Only Adam and Lute were missing.
The three angels stood apart from the rest, gathered to the right side of the immense throne room. The room itself was rectangular, with arched ceilings supported by thick pale columns adorned with the apple and serpent—the royal symbols. At the end of a long white carpet stood the Devil's Throne, entirely black, with a pentagram encased in a circle spinning magically behind it.
Alastor, his hand gripping his cane, rested it against the small of his back as he moved slowly around the throne, studying it with an inscrutable expression. His closed-lip smile betrayed none of his thoughts, but his eyes were sharp in meditative analysis.
His footsteps echoed through the vast hall as he circled the throne's armrest, brushing it with the claws of his free hand. A disapproving radio buzz escaped him, causing Lucifer to react.
Kalfu emerged from the shadows cast by the columns, his unsettling smile ever-present, standing near them.
"Is there something that doesn't convince you?" the Seraph asked. He stood a short distance away, clad in his iconic white suit. For the occasion, the spectral eyes on his bowtie and the fringe details of his jacket were open, glowing red.
"I'm just wondering how much time we'll have to waste helping Charlie."
Lucifer frowned, the corners of his mouth turning downward.
"Charlie has never ruled before; she needs guidance."
"Yes, but I don't intend to tolerate you spending most of your time here," Alastor growled, clearly irritated.
At this, Lucifer tilted his chin, puzzled, then let a sly smile spread across his face.
"Jealous?"
Kalfu chuckled silently.
"Possessive," Alastor corrected sharply.
"Ah-ah." Lucifer stepped closer, his demeanor taunting. Alastor turned fully toward him, ready to face off, his gaze sharper than ever as he looked down at Lucifer from his taller frame.
"You just don't want to admit it," Lucifer hissed, arching his eyebrows with deliberate—and amused—conviction.
Alastor let out a tense, crackling sound, leaning forward with his fangs bared.
"Fuck—"
A sudden cough from the entrance of the hall abruptly interrupted Alastor, forcing both of them to turn toward the door.
Charlie stood there, next to Vaggie, framed by the small group around her.
She was dressed entirely in red, her battle uniform—the one she had worn during the final extermination against the angels. With her hair loose, black thigh-high stockings, and the equally dark heart emblazoned on her chest, she looked ready for another war.
At the sight of his daughter, Lucifer's gaze widened gradually, lighting up with recognition. A trembling, emotional smile spread across his face, accompanied by the glint of a tear.
"Charlie!" Emily's high-pitched voice broke the silence. The small seraph flitted toward the new queen, her six wings fluttering excitedly.
"Oh, Emily! It's so wonderful to see you here too!" Charlie squealed, clasping her hands and bouncing on the spot.
"Once you've settled in here, you'll be able to visit Sir Pentious in Heaven! Sera has arranged everything!"
Emily waved her hands enthusiastically, glancing behind her at the approaching High Seraph, flanked by Michael. Sera smiled warmly at Charlie but then looked around as if searching for something—or someone—without saying anything.
Charlie stepped away from the small group, beginning her approach to the throne room's center. Each step echoed heavily in the emptiness, like walking across an invisible bridge suspended over an abyss. Around her, eyes brimming with expectations and hopes followed her every move.
Her heart pounded in her chest, but she fought to conceal it behind a mask of calm.
Lucifer stood beside the throne, his trembling smile and tear-filled eyes betraying the emotion he tried to suppress. On the other side, Alastor watched her with his enigmatic grin, but his scarlet eyes seemed to peer into her soul. Between the two of them, Kalfu loomed like a living shadow, his ghostly gaze piercing her very core.
A shiver ran down Charlie's spine. She took a deep breath, trying to steady the tightness in her lungs. That single step toward the throne felt like an eternity.
Lucifer was the first to move.
"Charlie..." he murmured, his voice a whisper choked with emotion.
Her father's smile was warm, but she couldn't bring herself to return it. She felt his arms envelop her, but even his comforting embrace didn't quell the vertigo making her head spin.
"Everything will be fine, Sovereign of Hell."
Lucifer's words echoed through the hall, carrying the weight of a vow.
Charlie resumed her path toward the throne. Each step felt heavier than the last, yet she didn't falter. Reaching the black seat, she paused for a moment and turned toward the others. Their faces formed a frame of expectations, hope, and fear.
She drew in a deep breath and sat down, feeling the cold solidity of the throne beneath her.
It was exactly as she had imagined. Neither majestic nor glorious, it was uncomfortable and heavy—a symbol of power that could destroy her if she ever wavered.
Behind her, the Pentagram turned slowly, like a beating heart. Charlie closed her eyes, letting the image sear itself into her memory. Then, she opened them again.
"Everything will be fine," she whispered. Perhaps for the others. Perhaps for herself.
She gripped the throne's armrests tightly. The Pentagram spun faster, casting flickering lights across the walls like watchful eyes staring out from the darkness.
...
Adam let out a grunt of frustration, pounding twice on the TV set, which was emitting constant static.
"Bzzz bzz Charlie Morningstar, new Sovereign of Hell bzz," Katie Killjoy's deep, animated voice crackled through the interference. "What a loser, who the bzz even said she could! Ruled by fuckin' lesbi bzz... Show some excitement, Tom! Ugh—"
"Fuck this piece of shit TV! That damn TV Demon bragged about being the hottest shit in Hell, and now the signal's dead!" Adam shouted, exaggerating with another heavy blow. The television crashed to the floor, shattering into countless pieces with a loud bang.
"ADAM! That's the second TV you've broken this week!" Lute's voice boomed from another room.
"Oops."
Lute stormed out of the bedroom of their tiny two-room apartment buried in the heart of Pentagram City, looking like she was on the verge of losing it. Her golden eyes burned with fury as she hurled a pair of boxers at Adam, hitting him square in the face.
"Get dressed already, or you'll be late for your first day of work!"
Pulling the underwear off his face, Adam glanced at it.
"Is it that time already? So no morning quickie today?" he asked, sounding genuinely distressed.
Lute shot him a glare so sharp it looked like she wished he would spontaneously combust on the spot.
..."
But then she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose in an attempt to calm herself.
"You've got five minutes."
Adam's expression lit up with sudden enthusiasm. Tossing the boxers aside carelessly, he started moving toward the angel with a predatory gleam in his eyes.
"After all you've put me through these past months, thirty seconds is more than enough," he said with a drooling, devilish grin.
"You're such an idiot!"
END
