Chapter Text
“He just keeps looking at me, Vox,” Alastor complained, pacing in front of his antique radio, his fists clenched behind his back. Vox sat on his sofa – the same one Alastor had had for years, threadbare and sagging in the middle, but that he refused to replace – his hands linked together between his slightly spread knees, following Alastor's restless movements across the room.
“Lucifer?” Vox clarified, trying his best to keep up with Alastor's ramblings – of which there had been a healthy number, even he was aware of that much.
He couldn't help it.
It was just so – so frustrating, feeling the king's eyes on him all the time.
He hadn't been like this when he'd first moved in. It was only recently that something seemed to have changed, and Alastor was at a loss about what he'd done to attract such... attention.
“Yes!” he snapped out, one hand coming up to scratch at the base of an antler. To add injury to insult, now even his body was determined to add to his discomfort.
“It's – it's inexcusable, Vox. Now, you know I'm not one to usually recognise when somebody is... hmm, interested-”
Understatement of the century, there. It had taken decades for Vox to finally get across to Alastor what he wanted, and even then he'd had to take him by the shoulders, look him in the eye, and deliver a very unromantic declaration of his feelings.
Alastor's unannounced seven year absence had put a slight hitch in their relationship, but they'd managed to smooth things out since then. They always did.
Much to his relief - as he roughly pushed Vox's hands aside and raised long legs onto the couch, straddling Vox's hips and manhandling his screen until the corner of it was situated in just the right position for Alastor to scrape his antler against it, sighing when some of that itch started to subside.
“-But he's certainly looking at me with something of a hungry gleam in his eye,” Alastor finished his complaint, voice morphing into something calmer as Vox's hands settled on his waist, his fingertips almost meeting each other over Alastor's spine. The static crackling and hissing around him slowed to a dull drone, and the faintest possible hint of Vox's signal – muted, now, thanks to his ridiculous body modifications – went the rest of the way to soothing his jangled nerves.
Alastor abandoned his hold on Vox's screen, tucking his head behind it and hooking his chin over the TV demon's shoulder, letting out another static-laden sigh as he pressed up flush against the other man.
“Oh...” Vox muttered, seeming to come to some kind of realisation.
Alastor waited for him to elaborate, but the only words that entered the silence were;
“Well, shit.”
Irritation lanced through him anew. If Vox wasn't going to explain what had him so worried, then he might as well start showing the appropriate level of appreciation for having a lap full of Radio Demon. Alastor shifted over Vox's thighs, his tail twitching under his belt as he felt the first stirrings of Vox's interest.
“Um. Alastor?” Vox spoke up, strangely subdued – it wasn't as though Alastor felt particularly amorous on a regular basis, after all – usually Vox was the one hoping for things to get a little more on the heavier side of petting. The fact that he wasn't jumping at the opportunity Alastor was presenting was – quite frankly – insulting.
“What is it?” Alastor snapped out, wondering whether he was actually going to need to do this himself, this time. It certainly wouldn't be the first time he'd taken matters into his own hands – in a manner of speaking – but he definitely preferred it when Vox did the work.
Vox cleared his throat pointedly, and Alastor sighed, pulling his head out from under Vox's screen so he could sit back and look him in the eye, one brow raised – this had better be important.
“Do you... do you, uh... remember when your last cycle was?” Vox asked, grimacing slightly at the expression on Alastor's face. It was clear he knew that he was essentially cock-blocking himself by asking this question, and yet he seemed determined to push on with it in any case.
Alastor's brows furrowed, his smile twisting at the edges.
He hadn't thought about that in years – it hadn't been relevant during his seven year 'sabbatical' – where he'd been, things such as hunger, exhaustion – rut – hadn't existed. And prior to that absence, Vox had tracked it for so many years, setting up first a manual calendar, then installing some kind of application to do so when the technology had become available – it simply hadn't been an issue in so long that it had completely slipped his mind.
“No,” he admitted, shifting over Vox's lap, his stomach twisting as the unmistakable hardness of the other man's erection pressed against his rear. Vox nodded, absently smoothing a hand over Alastor's thigh – the contact sent a rush of pleasure skittering across his skin, like a thousand spiders were fleeing from the touch and leaving tingling, painfully aware nerves in their wake.
It was difficult to think, with this warmth flooding through him – slightly mollified by Vox's touch, by the feeling of that hand on his leg, the other still wrapped possessively over his waist.
He edged forward until his torso met Vox's, hooking his chin over the top of Vox's screen and wrapping his arms around it, pulling it against his chest and letting his eyes close at the soft, familiar hum of it against his senses. He sighed.
That would explain it, then.
Although it was interesting, to say the least. That Lucifer, of all people, was paying him such close attention. Usually his ruts only attracted those who would have been interested in him regardless, their attraction heightened by the scent given out during his cycle.
If he'd been any less annoyed about it, he might have found it amusing.
A new urgency crept into his mind, now that his need to have Vox close was satisfied, his body seemingly happy enough with this arrangement.
For how long, though?
“You don't – you don't happen to have any of that concoction we came up with, do you?” he asked hopefully, wondering whether Vox would have kept making it, after all these years. It was a slim hope, and dashed almost immediately as Vox's fans sped up against his chest, the TV demon clearly nervous.
“I – it's been seven years, Alastor. I didn't think you were ever coming back...” Vox tried to pull back, tried to look him in the eye – Alastor wrapped his arms more firmly around Vox's screen and forced him to stay still, wrapping himself around Vox's warm body in a doomed attempt to satisfy the demands of his rut.
He sighed, wriggling against the other man when Vox rubbed a thumb over his hip, static electricity dancing in his very blood at the touch.
It was fine.
They'd dealt with it before, and he supposed it had been a while, in any case – it would be a nice way to make up for his long absence. And Vox always took care of him.
“You know... maybe having the King of Hell into you isn't the worst thing in the world...” Vox mused, all of the tension returning to Alastor's frame in one go, like a children's toy having the strings through its arms and legs pulled taut.
A crackle of static bled into the air, his voice going dangerously low.
“Ha – what are you implying, Picture Box?” Alastor asked, leaning back on Vox's lap, narrowing his eyes at the other man's screen. The apologetic, contrite look he had been expecting to find was conspicuously absent – Vox looked thoughtful.
Like he was having an idea.
Vox's red eyes locked onto his, one brow raised. 'Hear me out,' his expression said. Alastor gritted his teeth together – if not for the fact that he feared the crawling sensation under his skin would resume the second he left Vox's lap, he would have stood up in disgust.
“He's the King of Hell, Alastor. If he wants you – maybe we can work that to our benefit. Scratch his back-”
“While he blows mine out?” Alastor interrupted drily, not amused by the track Vox's train of thought was following. A scowl passed over Vox's screen, claws tightening around Alastor's middle and pricking his skin through his shirt.
Ah – oh.
That was nice.
He wanted more of that, wanted Vox to dig his claws in and push him down and-
He shook his head, trying to shove the increasingly demanding thoughts spurred on by unwanted instincts to the back of his mind.
“A favour from the King of Hell isn't something to sneer at,” Vox pointed out, and Alastor hated the fact he could see the logic in what he was saying.
“You're talking about whoring me out,” he complained, his ears lowering at the fact Vox could even consider such a thing – he'd always enjoyed that jealous streak he had, the way he would prioritise Alastor even over his own business partners.
“No!” Vox blurted, one hand rubbing up Alastor's back and snaking up into his hair. Alastor huffed, unconsciously pushing his head back into the touch, vision blurring as Vox's claws tugged through silken red strands, tearing some of them when they caught on the sharp edges of his knuckles.
“Not whoring you out. Never. I'll be there the whole time,” Vox assured him, his vocal filters smooth and soothing. Alastor's pulse fluttered just under his skin, that itch at the base of his antlers returning. Static rose in a hiss, popping as a crackly laugh escaped through his teeth, an antique radio searching for a signal.
“So now you're not only proposing I convince Lucifer take me to his bed, but you're coming, too?” Alastor asked with a raised brow, wry amusement making his ears twist forward. Waiting to see what Vox had to say to that.
“I fucking hope so,” Vox muttered.
Ah. An off-colour joke.
Alastor rolled his eyes – he didn't know why he'd expected any better.
“This will never work. He's the King of Hell, not Valentino. I'm sure he's not completely ruled by his dick, attraction to my person aside. What makes you think I have a snowball's chance in Hell of seducing-”
* * * * * *
“Are you trying to seduce me?” Lucifer demanded, slamming a fist down onto the bar as Alastor sipped from his glass of whisky, gaze sliding over to the shorter man, looking down at him from the corner of his eye.
Alastor had forgone his coat, the fabric far too warm considering how heated his skin had become, his pulse like a bass drum, thrumming through his veins. On his head, his antlers had grown a few extra tines, and he really wished Vox had kept some of that tonic around. So far he'd avoided any unwanted incidents, although this was the first time he'd actually lived with people since his rut had come upon him.
The results were... fascinating.
Husk was unmoved. His nose twitched, once, shooting Alastor a curious glance and lowering his brows, but that was it. No untoward reactions on his end, thank all that was unholy. Charlie had given him a second glance that morning, and he'd beat a hasty retreat. That would rather complicate matters, and in any case, he wasn't interested in ending up on the end of Vaggie's spear.
Niffty had offered to chew on his antlers if they got too itchy, and then slyly offered for Alastor to chew on her. He had politely declined the invitation, in both cases. Cherri Bomb seemed a little confused, rubbing her nose whenever he walked by, and had quickly disappeared to spend a night on the town.
Angel, naturally, had approached him and very professionally offered his help, if Alastor needed it. Sotto voce, he'd said he had plenty of experience with this sort of thing, and knew it could be unpleasant.
Alastor wasn't interested in learning whether those experiences were his own or other people's, nor was he interested in taking Angel up on his offer.
No – it was quite simple. His mission – that he had chosen to accept – was to bed the King of Hell.
Talk about a notch on one's bedpost.
“Why, sire. Whatever might make you think that?” Alastor asked with a wide, sharp toothed grin, deliberately resting his elbows on the bar and hooking one foot over the opposite ankle, hinging down at the waist so he was at eye level with their diminutive ruler.
The fact it highlighted the arch of his back and the modest curves of his rear was simply an added bonus.
Lucifer's gaze lingered a moment too long, snagging on his tapered waist, before yellow eyes flicked back up to Alastor's face, full of accusation. He gestured at Alastor, a vague flap of his hands.
“All – that!” Lucifer stammered out. Alastor only tilted his head the other way, the soft tips of his ears bouncing with his movement and his smile stretching impossibly wide as static hummed questioningly in the air.
He casually lifted one hand, scratching at the base of an antler. Rubbing the soft velvet under his claw, easing some of the itch that had begun to build up once again. The thought of scraping it against one of the support pillars at either end of the bar was one that refused to leave his mind, but he wasn't an animal.
Despite what his body might be trying to trick him into believing.
“Why, I do believe you just gestured to all of me!” Alastor pointed out with feigned surprise, straightening up and turning, propping his elbows behind him now. Sliding one foot up the bar, his knee jutting out in front of him, drawing attention to the length of his limbs.
If he wasn't mistaken, Lucifer liked his bed partners tall.
“That is because all of you is currently sauntering around, directly in my line of sight,” Lucifer ground out, a faint smattering of gold spreading over his cheeks, blending into the red circles he shared with his dear daughter. Alastor sent a recording of canned laughter into the air, flicking his bangs from his face.
Inwardly, he cursed Vox for coming up with this entire ridiculous plan in the first place.
Lucifer seemed transfixed by the long line of his throat, by his sharp features. Alastor lifted a hand and rubbed at the back of his neck, seemingly absently – in truth, a completely calculated movement, particularly when he paused, his fingertips hovering over his jugular.
“I wasn't aware that sauntering had entered the list of sins. Shall I add it to my rap sheet?” Alastor asked airily, still giving Lucifer that insouciant grin. He swore he could almost hear the king's teeth grinding together, and had to resist the urge to snicker.
Perhaps this might be a little more entertaining than Alastor had given Vox credit for.
“Something's up with you,” Lucifer insisted, lowering his voice when Husk gave the pair of them a suspicious look, deliberately removing the more expensive bottles from the shelves and out of harm's reach, should Lucifer and Alastor's altercation head towards the physical side.
Of course, the physical side was where it was supposed to end up – but not in the way Husk might be fearing.
“Oh? Have you been looking?” Alastor raised a brow, a minute flick of his eyes downwards sending that smattering of gold into a deep glow, Lucifer's cheeks burning as he clamped his lips together.
It must be awfully confusing for him, of course. Suddenly so flustered by a man he harboured an intense dislike towards, regardless of whether he thought Alastor was attractive or not.
“Stop it,” Lucifer warned, the growl in his voice stilling that part of Alastor's brain, the part that was responsible for creating this entire sordid instinct in the first place. It quailed under that authority, backing down as it recognised a far stronger foe.
“Make me,” Alastor purred out, ignoring the warning his tail was flashing against his belt, the desire to bare his belly and throat and tell Lucifer to do what he would.
Ergh. This was why he and Vox had designed that tonic in the first place. When his rut seized him he was no better than the most common harlot. He might as well have applied for a job in Valentino's studios, so wanton did he behave.
Dreadful.
“Perhaps we ought to discuss this later, sire. Privately. After all, it wouldn't do to have guests seeing the princess's father and her most trusted confidante arguing, would it?” Alastor added, his eyes flashing as he read Lucifer's intention to do just that, plain as day on his face.
And then the acknowledgement of the rest of what Alastor had said seemed to make its way into his lust addled brain.
“You're not her most-”
“Ta-ta, sire! Places to be, people to eat. You know how it is!” Alastor trilled, something singing in his blood as he sank into the shadows, relishing in the thrill of the hunt. Even if he felt more prey than predator, right now.
Ah – when he returned to normal, when these incessant demands from his blasted Hell-given instincts faded, he was sure he'd feel the appropriate level of humiliated. By then, of course – it would be too late. What's done would be done.
And what was done was going to be him.
If all went to plan.
* * * * * *
“Are you sure he's coming?” Vox asked for at least the fourth time that evening, watching as Alastor paced his rooms, rubbing at an antler every so often with a grimace. It was getting worse – it felt as though there were termites coursing through his blood, every inch of him crawling, his skin begging to be touched in a way it usually reviled.
“Oh, quite sure. If only to argue with me in a less public setting,” Alastor muttered, hinging over the back of the couch Vox was occupying and snaking his arms down his chest, pressing his cheek against the back of Vox's casing. Static electricity jumped from Vox's screen, the frequency he occupied on the radio waves easier to feel now that Alastor's static was skittering down his torso, nipping at his skin. Demanding Vox do something about the ache starting to throb below his belt, the heat that thrummed over his body with every beat of his heart.
He would have preferred the tonic. For the urges of his rut to be tamed into something manageable, warm affection replacing heated urgency – but if he couldn't have that, then at least he had Vox.
Even if Lucifer didn't show, Vox had helped him through these ruts before – he would do so again.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Alastor murmured against the back of Vox's screen, the comforting whirr of his fans soothing his nerves, like an invisible hand stroking down the back of his neck.
“We still don't have any ideas about how to get out of your deal. Maybe getting a favour from him will put us one step closer,” Vox muttered back, words buzzing against Alastor's skin as the audio emerged from his hidden speakers.
Alastor hummed a vague noise of confirmation, lids closing as his fingers started to venture through the gaps between Vox's buttons.
“You're very cute when you're like this,” Vox added, catching Alastor by the wrists and stilling those wandering hands. Alastor's ears twisted back with displeasure, his static pinging off Vox's neck in a way that made him wince.
“I'm insufferable. I'm handsy, I'm needy, and I can't seem to focus on anything for long enough to accomplish even the most basic of tasks,” Alastor shot back, not appreciating Vox's apparent enjoyment of his misery. Vox's thumb pressed against the pulse point on his wrist, fingers tightening their grip, and the pressure made him let out a feedback-filled whimper against the back of Vox's screen, his stomach tying itself into a knot in his middle and that dull throb starting between his legs once more.
Truly, if they let this go on for too much longer without resolving it, Alastor was going to make a fool of himself.
It was humiliating – the least his Hell-given form could've done would have been to make him act properly, when these ruts came upon him. He was a male, after all, he had the antlers to prove it. His instincts should have been pushing him to find somebody to subdue – not making his heart stutter at the reminder of how strong Vox was.
Someone up there had an awfully wicked sense of humour.
“Yeah. It's adorable,” Vox breathed, shifting his grip on Alastor's wrists until he had them both trapped in one hand, oversized claws easily circling both of his spindly limbs as his other hand ran up Alastor's arm, wandering up behind his screen to find Alastor's hair. When his claws gripped a fistful of crimson locks, tugging against the back of his scalp, Alastor practically melted over the back of the couch, sagging against it as that dull throb turned into a needy ache.
“You're not being fair,” Alastor complained, his voice less admonishing than he would have liked. It came out husky and rough, radio echo rolling over his words as the pitch wavered. An audible demonstration of his tenuous grip on his control.
“You can't blame me. You're never this affectionate, normally. And I haven't been around you during a rut for more than seven years,” Vox murmured, his fingers abandoning their grip on Alastor's hair only to circle around the back of his neck, the tips of his claws pressing pointedly against delicate flesh. Alastor could feel the pressure of them when he swallowed, his static buzzing between his ears as heat rushed down from the contact, curling down his back and over his chest in a way that made him shudder.
He was more than willing to forget their plans. His bed was right there, and Vox was here, his hands powerful and confident and knowing exactly what to do-
A knock at the door interrupted that thought. Alastor's ears rose from his head and twisted towards the noise, taking a moment to realise that Vox had released his wrists and neck – and he no longer had any reason to be folded over the back of the couch like an old coat, the furniture pressing harshly against his middle.
He straightened, blinking away the haze that had settled over his vision, his cheeks flushed. Looking down, his stomach twisted as he saw how obvious the evidence of his arousal was against his trousers, a noticeable bulge at the front of them screaming to the world that he was more than ready to see this rut to its logical conclusion.
At least Vox seemed to be sharing his boat, the two of them supplying enough masts to steer themselves through the storm to come.
Adjusting his slacks, Alastor made his way rather stiffly to the door as Vox also got to his feet, not wanting to be at any sort of disadvantage in the upcoming negotiations. And there would be negotiations – Alastor was sure of that. Most of them would have to be managed by Vox, at this point – with the way his body was screaming at him, he wasn't certain he would be of much assistance in this matter.
When he opened the door, it was to find Lucifer looking nervously up and down the hall, casting furtive glances at the stairs that proclaimed his intentions far more obviously than if he'd simply stood there, waiting patiently. Alastor rolled his eyes, cocking a hip and crossing his arms over his chest as he leant on the door-frame.
“Good evening, sire. To what do I owe the... pleasure?” Alastor purred out, the skin along his chest heating where his shirt brushed it. He barely suppressed a shudder, every inch of him so sensitive it was an effort not to simply fade into the shadows and leave his clothing behind.
“You wanted to talk. Privately. Were you implying what I think you – oh,” Lucifer said in a low voice, his brows pinching together as he caught sight of Vox walking up behind Alastor.
The TV demon curled a possessive hand around his waist, and a rush of hot desire raced over his frame from that contact point, flurries of nerves firing in its wake. His breath caught in his throat, and he could only hope Lucifer was too distracted by the other media demon present to notice the dark flush on his face.
“Your highness. Why don't you come in?” Vox offered smoothly, all solicitous invitation – the consummate professional. As if he wasn't planning on inviting the King of Hell to fuck his partner senseless in about five minutes time.
“I – I think I've gotten my wires crossed,” Lucifer protested, wariness crossing over his features, clearly recognising Vox as an Overlord even if he'd never met him before. Hard not to, really – the way his face was everywhere one looked. “I should go.”
“You should stay,” Vox countered, taking charge of the conversation as Alastor trembled with the effort of holding himself still. He couldn't stop himself from tipping his head to the side, his grin going crooked as he scraped an antler along the corner of Vox's casing, lids fluttering closed as he did so.
Lucifer blinked up at the pair of them with surprise, eyes darting down to Vox's blue tipped claws wrapped around Alastor's middle.
“What's this about?” Lucifer asked carefully, still not crossing that threshold. Vox raised one brow, a wry look on his screen as he shoved his other hand in his pants pocket.
“You want to fuck him, don't you?” Vox asked, so matter-of-fact about it that Lucifer gaped for a moment before burnished gold spread over his cheeks. Alastor's static skipped and stuttered, somehow both furious at Vox for discussing him like a cheap cut of meat – and excited at the prospect of having a being of such power in his bed during his rut.
“You can't – you can't just say that sort of thing to me, what if somebody hears?” Lucifer hissed a protest, once again looking down the hallway as if he expected a spy to peel themselves off the wall, camouflaged morph suit having previously hidden them from sight.
“Well, come in, and we can talk about it without that happening. You didn't deny what I said,” Vox pointed out, stepping back into the room and releasing Alastor's waist, hand sliding down his arm instead and making him shiver, his skin tingling where Vox's static brushed against it.
He tugged at Alastor's wrist – and it was rather embarrassing, the ease with which the radio demon followed him.
If things didn't come to a head soon, he was going to reach his boiling point. Already he felt like a tangled mess, far more docile than he'd ever otherwise let himself behave. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his mouth going dry as Lucifer's eyes swept down his body, purple lids hanging low as he shut the door after entering the room.
Well, if there'd been any doubt as to whether Lucifer was attracted to him, having the man enter his space – with his scent permeating everything, smoky and thick and cloying – those doubts were thoroughly banished. He could see the way Lucifer's throat bobbed when he swallowed, the confusion lining his brow when he struggled to tear his eyes off Alastor's frame when Vox cleared his throat.
“Alastor's in rut,” Vox announced, Alastor's heart coming to a stop at how casually he'd just revealed that, even as Lucifer blinked, recognition and understanding passing over his face – before it once more flooded gold.
“I – oh. I didn't – uh...” Lucifer stammered, as ineloquent now as he'd first been when trying to impress his daughter. Vox smirked, clearly pleased at having thrown him off balance as Alastor took a half step behind him, unable to stop his arms from looping under Vox's, pressing himself flush against the other man's back.
Vox could have this conversation, work out the finer details.
Alastor just needed to be touched.
“Yep. And you want to fuck him. We can make that happen, but... you'll owe us – Alastor – a favour in exchange,” Vox went on, smug as could be. As if this was a done deal.
Lucifer's face clouded with apprehension, seemingly able to better control his reactions now that he knew what was causing them. If only Alastor had such a luxury.
“A favour? No. Absolutely not, nope. I'm not agreeing to something that hasn't been specified well in advance – who knows what kind of twisted shit you'll ask of me? I'm not so desperate that I'll sell my power – which is more than I can say for what you're willing to do to your... what, lover?” Lucifer added with a scowl, his face darkening. Taking in the way Alastor was draped over Vox's back and correctly interpreting their relationship, clearly offended Vox was seemingly willing to whore him out.
That made two of them, at least.
“I'm not selling him to you. And you're not gonna be fucking him without me here,” Vox snapped, losing some of his composure at the implication as a red spark surged up his casing. Alastor's hands crept towards his belt, impatient and bored, and Vox pulled them back up to his chest.
Disappointed, Alastor sank his teeth into Vox's shoulder in retaliation, chastising him for the fact that all of this was taking far too long. He wanted his rut satisfied, and he wanted it now.
“He's not in any condition to make deals, anyway,” Lucifer pointed out, his voice going slightly softer as Vox yelped, trying in vain to make Alastor release his hold. Alastor's lids drifted closed in contentment, the feeling of Vox's flesh against his teeth doing at least something to satisfy that primal screech at the back of his mind.
And then he released the TV demon with an offended scratch of a record, hastily licking blood off the sharp points of his teeth as he shot a glare Lucifer's way.
“I assure you, I'm perfectly capable of arranging a little... favour for a favour,” Alastor replied waspishly, bristling at the implication his wits were so addled he couldn't manage even that. Lucifer raised one brow, doubtful.
“Are you? Because I've seen sinners in rut before, Alastor,” Lucifer smirked, a glint in his eye as he strode up to the pair of them, completely ignoring Vox in favour of staring directly into Alastor's eyes.
Something flickered behind them, like the red of his more demonic form passing over the yellow in an instant, and Alastor's ears snapped back, his breath quickening as he tried to tear his gaze away. Under his belt, his tail flashed another useless warning, blood singing under his skin to pool at the base of his dick, bringing it once more to attention.
“Get on the bed,” Lucifer demanded, his voice so low it was dangerous. Nerves tingled along Alastor's thighs, his stomach flipping over. Before he knew what he was doing, he'd backed up and felt the edge of his bed behind his legs, sitting down and trying not to squirm under the weight of Lucifer's stare.
“What the fuck? H-hey, that's not – stop that!” Vox demanded, stepping in front of Lucifer after he finally shook himself out of his disbelieving stare, breaking the king's line of sight. Alastor twitched, claws digging into his bedspread as shame crawled up his throat, choking him with the realisation of how easily he'd succumbed to Lucifer's strength.
“That is not how this is gonna go,” Vox growled, shoving a finger into Lucifer's chest as the king chuckled, the sound a confident rumble in his chest. The King of Hell, today – not Charlie's foolish father.
“Just making a point,” Lucifer offered, holding up his hands in surrender. “I'm not making a deal with him when his mind isn't as sharp as normal.”
“Then make it with me,” Vox snarled, surprising both Alastor and Lucifer with the offer. Doubt flickered over Lucifer's face again, his brows pinching together.
“Aren't you – aren't you with that other Overlord, anyway? The one that Angel works for? Why are you here, helping Alastor – I was pretty sure you hated him,” Lucifer questioned, things that he probably ought to have asked before letting the conversation get this far – but which he seemed eager to catch up on now.
“We reconciled our differences,” Alastor ground out, his teeth gritted as he forced himself to stay upright – to keep his hands to himself. An almost painful ache was starting to build between his legs, desperation making him quiver.
If they couldn't sort this out soon, then perhaps he would take Angel up on his offer.
Let Vox and Lucifer do their posturing and measuring contests alone.
“Val is... uh... well, he's more...” Vox hesitated, clearly searching for a way to phrase it delicately.
Alastor snorted.
“Valentino is more willing to fuck on a regular basis. What Vox and I have is a more meaningful relationship, but I'm not ignorant of the fact that we're rather incompatible in that department. Valentino fulfils needs that I can't,” Alastor explained bluntly, beyond caring about propriety or embarrassing Vox with that sort of information.
Perhaps it could be considered payback for his earlier revelation about Alastor's current state.
Silent, Vox nodded, his screen darkening as Alastor rolled his eyes and Lucifer once more furrowed his brows. Internally debating whether sleeping with the Radio Demon was worth everything that would follow – would one evening of pleasure really make up for owing the pair of media demons a favour? For the fact that every time he traversed the hotel, he would have to see Alastor and recall just how he'd given into his own baser instincts?
Alastor, for his part, no longer gave a damn.
It was all he could do not to rip his shirt off his back, to flip onto his belly and start rutting into the mattress in the hopes it would assuage this damned urge filling him, making his blood feel as though it were about to evaporate in his veins, even his static betraying him as it thickened in his throat.
Just trying to let a breath out – a regular, every day sort of intake of air, the kind of thing one did hundreds of times an hour – sent a small noise echoing into the room. It captured both Vox and Lucifer's attention, the former shooting him a look of concern, the latter's eyes clouding as Alastor shuddered, sweat pooling in the small of his back. Releasing even more of his scent into the room, and wasn't Vox lucky he couldn't smell it?
He seemed the only one capable of keeping his head – and by all traditional definitions of the word, he didn't even have one.
“... Fine,” Lucifer finally said, looking back at Vox. His face was wearing an almost permanent flush, and if Alastor wasn't mistaken, his white pants seemed a little bit tighter around the crotch region than they had earlier.
“R-really?” Vox stammered, ruining any impression that Lucifer may have had about him knowing what he was doing. Alastor cast an imploring gaze to the ceiling, hand twitching once more in the sheets as he fought the desire to reach out and pull Vox to him, to give his body something it knew.
What it undeniably wanted.
“Really,” Lucifer confirmed, looking as if he couldn't believe he was saying this. “This evening – it won't be made public knowledge. By any of us.”
“Obviously,” Alastor muttered, earning himself an exasperated look from Vox for the interruption. He graciously lowered his head, teeth clenched. Telling them to go on, by all means, keep discussing the finer details. He would just sit here, combusting from the inside out while they arranged the paperwork.
Lucifer drew in a breath, steeling himself – something he obviously regretted doing immediately, a whimper bubbling up from his throat as his eyes lost their focus, head turning back to Alastor almost like a needle pulled to a magnet.
Oh, Alastor could see the want burning in his gaze, now. No longer fighting it, accepting that whilst Alastor's rut had heightened his desire – there had been a desire there to fan the flames of in the first place. His grin sharpened on his face, something eager and foreign curling in his gut.
“Hey,” Vox snapped his fingers, deliberately repositioning himself between the pair. Making full use of his lack of olfactory senses. “Pay attention. Alright – we're gonna show Alastor the time of his afterlife, and in exchange, you'll owe us one favour. That sound fine?”
Vox's fans had sped up. His white noise whined in the air and his claws were curled into a loose fist at his side. Alastor's brows rose.
He'd thought he would be the one to protest anything about this encounter – it was his body being offered in exchange, after all – but it seemed Vox had realised the extent of his own jealousy, and he didn't seem to like the fact that whatever attraction Lucifer harboured towards Alastor – Alastor wasn't exactly rebuking him.
Possessive Picture Box.
“One favour where I don't hurt anyone, don't interfere with the hierarchy of Hell, don't do anything that would hurt Charlie – or the hotel – and wherein my involvement needs to be strictly confidential,” Lucifer countered, speaking like a man who'd done this sort of thing before.
Perhaps all those old songs about meeting the Devil at the crossroads had more truth to them than Alastor had previously given them credit for.
“That's a lot of caveats,” Vox frowned, even as the agreement danced on the tip of Alastor's tongue, ready to get this entire thing done with. Lucifer shrugged, as if he couldn't care less about whether they agreed to his terms or not, despite the clear strain at the front of his pants.
“It is what it is. Take it or leave it,” Lucifer said carelessly, turning as if to go.
Alarm flashed through Alastor's system, microphone feedback ringing in the air at the idea of all that power leaving the room. Lucifer's command still weighed heavily on his mind – he hadn't even made an attempt to stand up from the bed.
“We'll take it,” he blurted, despite Vox's near-squawk of surprise as Lucifer turned back with a devilish grin, that same darkness flitting behind his eyes that Alastor had seen before. How much power did Lucifer have, anyway? How much strength sat hidden in that small frame?
Another shudder went down his spine at the thought.
When Vox held him down, it was largely because Alastor let him.
He didn't think that would be a concession he'd need to make when it came to Lucifer, and the idea was electrifying, everything his infernal instincts wanted, to be caught – trapped, somebody stronger carrying him through the throes of this unfortunate time of year.
“I thought you might,” Lucifer murmured, rolling up the sleeve on his left arm, revealing the blackened skin of his forearm beneath. His hand glowed a faint gold, and Vox looked at it with some trepidation.
“Damn you, Vox. Take the deal,” Alastor snapped, his filter all off-kilter, his voice sounding doubled for a moment as it echoed around the room. Vox started, obediently stepping forward and lifting his own left hand to accept Lucifer's handshake.
A silent concussion went through the room, Vox's screen flashing to colour test bars and back, briefly showing nothing but a blue background with various symbols Alastor couldn't understand. Impatient, he reached up and pressed his hand to the small of Vox's back, pulsing his own signal against the TV demon until he caught Vox's much weaker one, yanking it rather forcefully back under control.
Vox staggered, shaking his screen as it cleared, a few sparks of electricity falling harmlessly to the floor.
“Damn. That felt like I just had a fucking train run on me by a bunch of – uh – you know what, never mind,” Vox muttered, screen darkening as he took a breath. Alastor's ear twitched, the steady throb between his legs making it rather difficult to concentrate on anything else.
“Ground rules?” Lucifer asked, as if he'd had former experience with this sort of arrangement. Maybe he had – who knew what kind of things he and Lilith got up to before their split? Ten thousand years was a long time, and boredom was the true torture of Hell, as Alastor could attest to.
Vox looked at Alastor – checking whether he wanted to weigh in. Truly, he didn't have a strong opinion, so long as one of them scratched that goddamn itch at the back of his mind, wore him down until he couldn't hear it anymore – left him an exhausted mess, too fucked out to think about anything for a solid twelve hours.
After which time the regret would kick in, but he would burn that bridge when he got to it.
“Alright. You can fuck him, but he's not looking at you,” Vox lowered his voice into something approaching a threat – it set the hair on Alastor's ears fluffing, but after hearing the raw power in Lucifer's, it fell somewhat flat.
He turned to look at Lucifer to see his response to that – feeling like a very uncomfortable spectator at a tennis match. The king was nodding, clearly not too bothered about being the centre of attention.
“Okay. Anything else?” he asked, already sauntering over to Alastor on the bed and testing that first rule, one clawed fingertip running up Alastor's chest, over his throat – forcing his chin up to meet Lucifer's gaze – before he cast a curious look over at the TV demon.
Vox was scowling, but it seemed he would accept this much in terms of eye contact. Perhaps it was only the sex he was concerned about.
Alastor swallowed, his mind going blank when he felt the sharp tip of Lucifer's claw against his throat, met those predator's eyes. Red slitted pupils, dilating when Alastor let out a staticky whine, shifting on the bed.
“Don't touch his tail. That – that's for me only,” Vox muttered, perhaps once again regretting his choices to get them embroiled in this mess in the first place. Well, it was far too late now.
Excitement and delight flashed over Lucifer's face.
“He has a tail?”
“Would you both stop talking about me as if I'm not here?” Alastor mumbled, fighting against the desire to keep his mouth clamped shut – to let this far stronger being have him any which way he might like. Anticipation danced under Alastor's skin once more, his breath catching at Lucifer's raised brow.
“Oh, terribly sorry. Here I was thinking you'd already sunk so far into your rut that anything we were saying was going right over your head,” Lucifer murmured, forked tongue flicking out against his own lips, drawing Alastor's eye. Sharp teeth flashed in a grin, and the mattress dipped as Vox settled at Alastor's side. Not wanting to be left out – his hand coming to rest on Alastor's lower back, curling around his waist once more.
Alastor's heart flipped over in his chest, a needy sigh keening from his throat at the contact.
“What about kissing, Alastor? Can I kiss you?” Lucifer whispered, directing the question to him rather than Vox. He shifted his hand, holding Alastor's face between thumb and forefinger, Vox's hand on his waist burning against his skin like a brand.
“If you must,” Alastor mumbled back vaguely, Lucifer's statement that he'd already succumbed to his body not too far off the mark. Static whined between his ears, the bass-drum of his blood pounding under his skin surely loud enough that both Vox and Lucifer could hear it.
When Vox didn't speak up in protest, Lucifer closed the gap between them, lips far softer than those Alastor was used to kissing meeting his. No static electricity nipped at his face, no glass pressed up against his nose – it was unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. He found himself responding to Lucifer's mouth surprisingly willingly, whimpering when he felt Vox shift, his other hand rubbing up his thigh and leaving a spiderweb of nerves crying out in its wake.
More, his instincts screamed, and he parted his lips when Lucifer's forked tongue flicked against them, seeking entry to his mouth.
Vox moved even closer, pressing himself flush to Alastor's back and splaying one hand up over his chest. Even through his shirt, he could feel the cool metal of Vox's claws against his flushed skin, feel the heat from Vox's chest pressing against his back. Lucifer's tongue swept against his, agile and quick, and Alastor's ventured over to dip into his mouth, something he never got a chance to do with Vox.
The sharp points of Lucifer's teeth pressed against the soft pad of his tongue, and he made a startled, staccato little sound when the king buried a hand in the hair at the back of his neck, wrapping silken strands around his claws and tugging, Alastor's breath hitching as a desperate noise crept up from his chest.
Vox was undoing the buttons on his shirt as Lucifer ravaged his mouth, leaving no part of it unexplored. He was going to be tasting the king for days, at this rate. His dick throbbed in his pants, pressing up uncomfortably against his zipper as pathways of nerves all over his skin fired up in sequence, like he was some kind of debauched string of lights. Vox slipped a hand under his shirt, and Alastor arched up into the touch when his fingers brushed over a nipple, a needy gasp muffled between his lips and Lucifer's as his own hands jumped up to seize the king's hips.
He parted his legs, pulling the other man closer to the edge of the bed, trying to rock up against him and foiled by the difficulty of the angle. His intelligence seemed to have abandoned him – left a sign saying it was out to lunch – and the only thing now ruling his mind was that animalistic urge to satiate this want.
“Wait a second,” Vox mumbled, his voice cutting through the haze that had settled over Alastor's mind. Personally, he probably would have ignored the instruction – but Lucifer pulled back, despite the fact Alastor tried to chase his mouth, his ears sagging low on his head with his disappointment, cheeks flushed and lips swollen.
“Alastor. Look at me,” Vox coaxed as Lucifer shrugged out of his waistcoat, letting it drop carelessly to the floor before he tugged his tie loose and started on his buttons, his own cheeks stained gold and an eager lust in his eyes that stretched tight between them.
Alastor swallowed, reluctantly turning to face Vox as the other man scooted up the bed, hooking his finger at the radio demon in a classic 'come hither' gesture. Alastor glanced down to the front of his trousers, not hesitating when he saw them straining against his erection.
His stomach flipped over, instincts screaming yes, and he hastened to scramble over to the TV demon, all dignity lost to his overwhelming need.
His first thought was to clamber up into Vox's lap, but his pants were still in the way – and he paused, uncertain, when Vox caught his face between both hands, the full intensity of his gaze locking Alastor's eyes in place.
Vox's left eye started swirling, concentric rings expanding out from his pupil like the ripples in a pond, and Alastor caught his swollen lip between his teeth, his tail quivering against his belt as the blanket of that command settled over his mind. It wouldn't usually work – but this was a very unusual situation.
“You're not going to come until I tell you to,” Vox ordered, his voice smooth and confident – if Lucifer's power was like apple-blossom honey, then the way Vox's words dripped into his consciousness was like molasses, heavy and sticky, catching on every reservation he might have had and smothering it.
Wordless, Alastor shuddered, his pupils blowing wide as he cast a pleading look at Vox, begging him not to be so cruel. Vox only smirked, pulsing a static charge against his face as Alastor's ears swivelled towards the sound of fabric hitting the floor. The command settled into him, the base of his dick throbbing as effectively as if Vox had just clamped a cage around it, the warmth curling in his gut stoppered.
“Seems a bit mean. He's in rut, right? All he wants to do is come,” Lucifer's voice came from behind him, the bed dipping as he climbed up to join them. Vox's eyes widened as he looked over Alastor's shoulder, his gaze raking down the the form of the king and something hungry flashing on his screen.
Alastor made to turn, to look – and Vox stopped him. His hand on Alastor's chin was firm, but not rough, and Vox's brows creased as his mouth turned down at the edges.
“Keep your eyes on me, Alastor. Just on me,” Vox murmured – and though there was no swirling vortex in his eye this time, Alastor nodded, sitting back on his haunches as another helpless noise echoed in the back of his throat, Lucifer's hands snaking around from behind him to finish unbuttoning his shirt and pull it from his torso.
His skin pebbled at the exposure, goose-flesh running down his arms as the scent permeating the room intensified, that smoky, musky fragrance drifting from the sweat lining his collarbones, trickling down the back of his neck to catch in the dips either side of his spine.
Vox still had his clothes on. That didn't seem fair or right, and Alastor wanted to touch him – to have Vox's skin against his, for him to lose even a fraction of the control that Alastor had so thoroughly had torn away from him. He plucked at Vox's buttons, and the TV demon huffed a laugh, one hand pushing up into Alastor's hair as he let him pull those buttons loose and peel open his shirt, exposing the hard, flat plane of his chest.
Lucifer's hands returned, dancing over the skin of his middle, one of them running up his chest to pinch at a nipple, and Alastor sagged back, whining when he pressed up against the smaller, unfamiliar body behind him, his chest rising and falling as quick as a hare fleeing for its life.
“I like you much better like this,” Lucifer murmured against his ear, Alastor's lids fluttering closed as his stomach tied itself into knots a sailor could only dream of accomplishing. Vox made a vaguely amused sound, his hands circling around Alastor's hips, thumbs dipping under his waistband. Alastor arched up into that touch, pushing his shoulders back against Lucifer's chest and his hips towards Vox's hands, panting.
There was – there was so much contact. Hard to keep track of, Vox's hands and Lucifer's, skittering over his skin and dragging his blood behind them, iron filings drawn to a magnet. The noise that bubbled up from his throat when Vox hinged down, long tongue lapping at his navel was nothing short of a moan, his dick so hard it was becoming painful, and he fumbled with his own belt, desperate to free it.
“Don't get used to it, your majesty. He'll be back to being just as much of a prick as ever soon enough,” Vox dismissed, his tone managing to speak to the singular brain cell Alastor seemed to have retained possession of, the one that was responsible for his snark.
“You like it when I'm a prick,” he muttered, tugging his zipper down and letting out a pleased hum at the immediate relief that provided, his dick pressing only against the soft cotton of his undershorts, not the tight confines of his pants. Still throbbing, still aching – still demanding attention and an orgasm that wouldn't come, dribbling at his eagerness and leaving a damp patch on the front of his underwear – but at least it wasn't getting bent in such an unnatural way any longer, which was a vast improvement.
Lucifer chuckled, the sound a low rumble that shot straight to Alastor's dick, twitching at the underlying darkness seemingly hidden under the guise of innocent fallen angel.
“So, should I have been taking it as flirting, when you were being a complete ass to me?” Lucifer asked, snapping his fingers and leaving Alastor completely bare, pants and undershorts and shoes gone, his eyes flying open with shock at his sudden exposure.
Vox was watching him writhe against Lucifer, his attention snagging on Alastor's dick, smearing wet into the soft, crimson fur that passed for his pubic hair. His hands sank down to wrap around Alastor's thighs, thumbs tracing down the tender skin where leg met groin as a line of red drool stained his screen.
“Alastor is a complete ass to everyone. His flirting really isn't so different, and you've gotten this far, haven't you?” Vox asked, a thread of possessiveness in his voice that had Alastor smirking, the desire to push him momentarily outweighing his own desperation.
He curled a hand up behind himself, closing his eyes as he tipped his head back onto Lucifer's shoulder, grabbing a fistful of the king's hair and tugging his head down to meet his mouth in a wet, sloppy kiss, deliberately letting Vox see his tongue flash between them before he plunged it into Lucifer's mouth.
It wasn't as if he was looking at the king, after all. He had his eyes closed. Obeying the letter of Vox's demand, if not the spirit of it, and his tail jerked against his back when Vox's fingers dug into his thigh, claws pricking through the delicate skin and sending fine trickles of blood running down the outsides of his legs.
Alastor whimpered into Lucifer's mouth, the pain only sending a fresh surge of aching desire through him, and his thoughts turned briefly into nothing but radio feedback when Lucifer pinched both of his nipples simultaneously, the hot glut pooling low in his belly thickening as he rolled his hips against the air.
A hand wrapped around his other arm, tugging him forward – and Alastor tumbled gracelessly down, his chest hitting the mattress as he was pulled away from Lucifer, catching his lip on the king's teeth and tasting the salty tang of his own blood in his mouth. A startled exhalation of air escaped him, and he looked up to glare at Vox for manhandling him so.
“Enough messing about,” Vox growled out, a spark fizzing at the end of one antenna. Alastor gasped as Lucifer's hands smoothed down his sides, running over the outsides of his legs and stinging where they passed over the claw marks Vox had left, pushing his knees closer together to force his ass into the air, tail bolting upright.
Alastor trembled, for a moment feeling so overwhelmingly exposed that it almost silenced the roaring of his blood, and Vox's face softened. He was sitting on his own knees, his cock still straining against his pants, but he didn't reach down to free it – no, he only reached down to drag his hand over one of Alastor's pinned ears, a comforting, familiar touch in the midst of so much that was new.
One of Lucifer's claws traced circles over Alastor's bony hip, and Vox broke eye contact with Alastor to nod over his head.
Oh.
Lucifer must have summoned lubricant, because when he ran it over the rim of Alastor's hole it left a cool trail in its wake, Alastor clenching his teeth as his breath once more sped up, throat burning as he tried to clamp down on the needy groan that threatened to burst from him when Lucifer slipped his finger inside, breaching that tight ring of muscle even as Alastor pushed back against it.
Vox's hand on his head didn't still, but he did tug briefly on an antler, the helpless feeling that touch evoked in Alastor sending his mind spinning as he looked up, neck creaking with the effort. Lucifer withdrew his finger and returned with two, patient and steady, silent now as he held Alastor's hips in his other hand – and the groan he'd held back before escaped him in a crackle of feedback, hissing static whining in the air.
“You don't have to look like you're enjoying it so much,” Vox admonished, clearly fighting to tamp down his own jealousy at seeing somebody else getting ready to fuck Alastor – despite this whole thing having been his idea in the first place.
Alastor's tongue darted out to wet his lips, blinking to clear the glaze from his eyes that was making Vox waver in place as Lucifer slowly worked those fingers into him, the anticipation in his blood building as his cock dripped between his legs.
“He's gentler than you,” Alastor managed to get out, his voice raspy and hoarse as he smirked, smug self-satisfaction coiling through him at being able to come back with even that much. Vox would make him pay for that remark, later – and Alastor would probably let him.
Vox's hand gripped his antler again, his teeth bared as he held Alastor's head in place, his tail flashing its white underside for Lucifer to let out a chuckle at.
“You don't like gentle,” Vox reminded him in a growl, Alastor's grin stretching wider as his tail wagged, acknowledging the truth of that statement. His vision lost focus when Lucifer worked a third finger into him, the slight sting of being so stretched nothing in comparison to what was coming.
Vox blinked, his snarl fading from his face as his brows furrowed slightly.
“Relax,” Vox breathed, a few circles swirling in his left eye. Alastor felt the command settle into him, warm and reassuring, and cast Vox a grateful look as he stopped having to fight his body's natural aversion to being invaded, warring against his instinctive need to satisfy his rut.
His forehead sagged back to the mattress between Vox's knees, trying to slow his ragged breathing as he clutched Vox's legs, feeling the faint ping of his signal. Vox rubbed gently at the base of his ears as Lucifer withdrew all three fingers, and Alastor felt the tip of what could only be his cock nudging against his slicked up entrance.
“I can't believe I'm doing this,” Lucifer muttered, his own voice sounding somewhat strained as he pushed forward, a skittering of feedback launching into the air as his cock stretched Alastor further than his slim fingers could manage, sliding into him with far more consideration than the demon had thought him capable of.
Something in Alastor's mind snapped, the last thread of his control and awareness of what he was doing vanishing as he relished in the feeling of Lucifer's cock in him, pushing his own hips back against it. His ears flicked at Lucifer's hissed intake of breath, claws digging into Vox's legs in silent demand as he panted out his need.
Fuck – that was – that was everything his instincts had been screaming out for and more, faint hints of Lucifer's power escaping him and spilling into the room, weighing heavily on his back and making him want to keep his chest pressed down, to make himself as enticing as possible so Lucifer wouldn't stop.
Vox huffed a shaky sound into the air, once more grabbing Alastor's antler and pulling his head up as Lucifer's hips pressed against his ass, cock buried to the hilt inside him. That ache, that stretch, that fullness – Alastor whined, unfocused eyes meeting Vox's gaze.
Please, he tried to broadcast, Vox's earlier command holding his pleasure in a vice grip, no matter how much his heart pounded in his chest, how much pressure tried to build in his gut, release impossible as his dick throbbed, untouched.
A knowing smirk flickered on Vox's screen, clearly enjoying Alastor's desperation. His other hand fumbled with his zipper, pushing his underwear down and dragging his cock out, the faint glow of it all Alastor could see as moisture pooled in the corners of his eyes.
“You want him to start fucking you, Alastor?” Vox asked quietly, even as Lucifer pulled back, the tug on the sensitive nerves of his rim forcing a keening, squealing whine from his throat, like a microphone taken too close to a speaker.
He tried to nod, Vox's hold on his antler hampering him, and briefly despaired that he'd be unable to answer in the affirmative. Surely Vox wouldn't be so cruel – wouldn't let him get this far, only to take it all away from him. He was in fucking rut, Vox knew that, knew how much he needed this-
“Okay,” Vox muttered, relief hitting Alastor so hard he shuddered, panting again as Lucifer rocked forward once more, setting up a slow, cautious rhythm. Vox pushed Alastor's head down, using his antler as leverage, and the head of his cock bumped against his lips.
It seemed Vox really was determined not to be left out, and if he couldn't fuck Alastor through this rut – for now – then he was damn well going to make sure he got something out of it. Pressure built low in Alastor's abdomen again, the knowledge that Vox was watching somebody else fuck him sending a thrill straight down his spine to pulse over his hips and down his legs.
Oh, yes – Vox was watching his lover, the man he'd abandon everything else for in a heartbeat, if only Alastor demanded it – getting railed by the King of Hell. That must sting his pride, and Alastor knew well how a wounded ego could hurt as much as anything physical.
He parted his lips, careful of his teeth even in his daze, and let Vox's cock slide onto the cushion of his tongue, swirling it over the head and lapping up the salty-sweet slick already gathered there, ears lifting slightly at Vox's distorted moan from above him. The TV demon released his antler, his rear sinking down between his feet as he leant back on his hands, screen darkening when Alastor flicked his gaze up to meet his.
Without warning, he ducked his head down, lips wrapping firmly around the base of Vox's dick as the tip slid down his throat.
Vox choked – Alastor didn't.
If he'd had a gag reflex, it was long gone – one didn't swallow entire sinners whole, kicking and screaming the whole way down, and retain a thing like that. A desperate hum had his throat tightening around Vox's dick as Lucifer rocked into him, his tongue lashing at the other man's shaft as his own climax waited, crouching inside him like a feral creature waiting to escape as soon as Vox opened the door.
Every breath he managed to drag in through his nose wasn't enough, his spine creaking when Lucifer's hips snapped forward with slightly less control, the man gasping out an apology as Alastor whimpered at the force of it, burning up from the inside out.
He bobbed his head, not bothering to guide Vox's dick with his hands, claws dug so firmly into Vox's legs to support himself that he was probably going to have marks for days. The sensation of being fucked into whilst a second cock was sheathed in his throat was a new one, and something in him rejoiced at it – at being used this way, an instrument for other's pleasure.
If his body was being used for other's pleasure, it made him feel less revulsion for the fact he had to seek his own. And seek it, he did – hollowing his cheeks as he sucked, Vox's hips jerking and his dick bumping against his soft palate, making him briefly pull back in displeasure as he rubbed his tongue over the spot, trying to wipe away the unpleasant, ticklish sensation it had provoked. He shuddered as Lucifer continued rutting into him from behind, hands on his hips slipping slightly against sweat slicked skin.
He looked up at Vox again, an open plea once more in his eyes as his smile twisted, his lips swollen both from kissing – and from being wrapped around the TV demon's cock. Vox shook his head, denying him all over again, and Alastor jerked as pressure built once more at the base of his dick, the ache from it starting to spread over his thighs, across his balls – every part of him desperate to come.
With a groan, he swallowed Vox down again, the head of Vox's cock bumping against the back of his throat at almost the exact moment Lucifer thrust into him, eyes squeezing shut against the tortuous pleasure wracking his nerves, lids closed so tightly that white dots floated in the blackness of his vision as Vox's taste burst on his tongue.
Please, Vox. Please let – please say that I can. I need-
None of those words made it out of his mind – even if he'd been coherent enough to speak them, his mouth was quite full.
Soft, breathy little noises were echoing up behind him, Lucifer's thrusts starting to increase in intensity. Panic gripped Alastor by the throat, the idea that Vox and Lucifer were going to reach their climax and leave him, aching and needy and hot and bereft – he redoubled his efforts, wrapped his tongue around Vox's dick, using the full, unnatural length of it to his advantage as he swallowed once more, whining out his need.
“F-fuck,” Vox gasped, static electricity stinging Alastor's tongue as Vox jerked, his hips rutting up into Alastor's mouth of their own accord. Alastor let out a noise of filthy delight, his pleasure coiling around the base of his spine, Lucifer's hands slipping off his hips and seizing his middle instead, yanking him roughly back as he tried to wriggle forward, tried to get a better angle to keep sucking Vox off.
A vaguely protesting, staticky sound caught in his throat, muffled against the head of Vox's dick as the TV demon buried one hand back in his hair, hips rocking as he panted. White noise leaked from him and mingled with Alastor's frantic static, Lucifer's gasps soaring over and above the both of them.
He was going to be pulled in half. Vox had a hand wrapped around his antler, pushing his head down – and Lucifer was rocking him on his knees, tugging him back to meet the king's thrusts, each one provoking an answering crackle of feedback as Alastor's dick leaked onto the sheets.
Vox forced his mouth down to the base of his cock – and didn't let him up, his nose crushed against the other man's groin as Vox's cock throbbed and pulsed in his throat, Alastor's muscles clenching to swallow around him, salty-sweet and slightly bitter, Vox's speakers hissing out a burst of incomprehensible, garbled noise.
Alastor flicked his tongue over Vox's dick, lapping at him until he was forced to stop, Vox yanking his head back with a vague protest. Alastor shot him a look, tail wagging with satisfaction. Surely Vox would let him come now.
He'd been good to him, given him exactly what he wanted.
With nothing to distract him, his attention returned to how it felt to have Lucifer fucking into him, his dick twitching as it begged for relief. His ever-present smile hung open, spittle clinging to his lips as he trembled, waiting for Vox to release that mental hold he had over him.
“Do you wanna come, Bambi?” Vox breathed out, Alastor's acceptance of the ridiculous pet name a measure of how far gone he was as he nodded, the knowledge that it was Lucifer, the King of Hell, the Devil himself thrusting into him from behind forcing a desperate noise from his throat.
Vox looked over his head, at the man whose cock was filling him so delectably – and raised a brow.
“Try to hold out a little longer, your majesty. He wants his brains fucked out – don't you?” Vox practically cooed, stroking a gentle claw up Alastor's cheek, the sensation at complete odds with the burning under his skin and the constant push-pull of his rim as Lucifer slowed.
He nodded again, his tail waving above his ass, flashing its white underside in surrender. His smile hung open on his face as he looked up at Vox through lowered lashes, pressure spiking through him once more as Lucifer adjusted his angle, jolting against his prostate.
“Vox – please, Vox, let – let me-” he choked out, eyes snapping down to Vox's dick when it twitched in response to his pleas. He opened his mouth wider, inviting the other man to take his pleasure once more.
Vox looked down at him, an oddly soft expression on his screen.
“Alright, Alastor. You can come. However much you like,” Vox muttered with a knowing grin.
Alastor groaned, pressing his forehead against Vox's thigh as he panted, sinking into the fuzzy head-space awaiting him more fully now he'd been given permission. Lucifer's cock hit him just right again, his gut tightening, whimpering at the intensity of it.
“Look at you. Who'd have thought you'd like getting fucked by the King of Hell so much, hmm? You know I'm going to make sure you remember you're mine, later,” Vox growled, sinking his claws into the hair at the back of Alastor's head and yanking, pleasure-pain-pleasure racing down his spine as Lucifer thrust in again, the other man's fingers tightening on his waist until his claws sank into the delicate flesh.
The dam holding his pleasure back burst, his back arching as he pushed back onto Lucifer's cock, coming in long spurts over the sheets. Lucifer get out a choked noise as he clenched down, his breath hissing between his teeth as he adjusted his hold and kept rocking into him, fucking him through that climax until Alastor was shaking his head against Vox's leg, trembling, his claws digging into the mattress.
“Come on, Alastor. Again. Let me feel you come again, so tight, s-fuck-” Lucifer stuttered, his thrusts losing their rhythm for a moment as Alastor's legs tried to collapse. The king's hands slid to his thighs, digging into the sides of them as he forced his ass back into the air, static buzzing around them as Alastor whined, heat racing up his spine and over his hips.
A strangled noise caught in his throat as pleasure pulsed through him again, locking his limbs in place as his dick twitched, a weak trickle all it had left. Oh – he couldn't – couldn't take any more. He didn't have anything left in him, he was done-
“Vox,” he whined, the word turning into an unintelligible chant, static jumping from Vox's thigh to his head, skittering down his neck as Lucifer gave up on trying to keep his knees under him, letting him sink to the bed and following him down. The king's body pressed against his back, slippery with sweat, and he was still going-
A record scratch split the air, Alastor shuddering as his body locked up and clamped down once more, the feel of Lucifer inside him, rocking into his prostate again and again, sliding against his inner walls, stretching him, filling him, fucking him-
He shook his head against Vox's leg again, crying out, his stomach twisting and seizing as pressure built low in his gut once more, Lucifer's thrusts short and sharp, ruthless in their persistence. He groaned, trying to writhe away, stilling at Vox's claws on the back of his neck.
A whimper echoed in his burning throat, stars bursting behind his shut lids as another orgasm wracked his frame, his tail plastered to Lucifer's stomach as the king gasped out a warning.
“Can't – hold-” he stuttered, his voice breathless and needy, and Alastor heard Vox's speakers hiss and sputter when he dug his claws into the other man's leg even deeper than before, struggling to breathe as pressure built and burst and burst again, his weak attempts to move doing nothing but smearing his own spend across his belly.
Lucifer let out something close to a shout, his pelvis slamming into Alastor's ass cheeks and stopping, spurting his climax deep inside the demon. Alastor made a pathetic little noise at the feeling, the echoes of pleasure still thrumming through his overstimulated body.
He panted, blissfully unaware as Lucifer caught his breath, pulling out at Vox's impatient noise.
Everything around Alastor was moving as if through a haze, like an old movie on corrupted film. The sounds drifted to him like those from a radio slightly out of range of the station, distorted and faint. His body throbbed, twitching as come leaked down over his thigh, and he hummed a low note when Vox's claws petted through his hair.
“I – is he okay?”
Concern.
A scoff.
“Yeah. He's great, don't worry about it. Hey, maybe we'll hit you up next year.”
A pause.
“A whole year?”
Vox's laughter, soft and disbelieving. Alastor furrowed his brows, pressing his ears to his skull to try to drown out the chatter as he pushed his face more firmly into Vox's thigh, dragging himself up to pillow his head on the top of it. His claws dug into something soft, and Vox hissed a curse before he resumed stroking through his hair, switching his attentions to those long ears.
“And this favour...”
“We'll let you know. Later. You can go, your majesty. Fifty-fifty chance he comes out of this in a good mood or wanting to rip my dick off, and I think the odds will look better for me if you're not here.”
There was the sound of clothing being picked up – of fingers snapping together, and Alastor's tail wiggled as the sweat disappeared from his fur, matted fluff turning back into silken strands. The stickiness leaking from his hole vanished, though the dull throb didn't.
“Let me – uh, let me know if you guys need anything.”
“Sure. And – oh, your majesty?”
A pause as the door creaked on its hinges.
“You've got a pretty nice cock. It's Lilith's loss for fucking off.”
Alastor could hear the smirk in Vox's voice, and his own smile stretched as his tail wagged with amusement, his static settling into a drone as Vox's fingers kept skimming over his ears.
“Fuck you, Vox.”
“Sure, if you're offering.”
The door opened and closed with a force that made Alastor jump, startled from his warm lassitude. Vox chuckled, low and soothing, applying pressure to the top of his head when Alastor tried to lift it, settling it back on his lap and sending a faint pulse of static against his ears, all he could manage.
“How you doing, Bambi?” Vox asked, his voice far softer. Alastor hummed a noncommittal noise in response, wriggling up and pressing his face into Vox's stomach, ignoring the TV demon's dick, nudging it aside with his chin when it rose halfheartedly at the closeness of his face.
Vox shifted, freeing his legs as Alastor wrapped his arms around his middle, leaning back against the headboard and scratching at an antler.
He didn't bother to answer. The itch in the back of his mind was quiet – everything was, all thought processes on hold. Taking numbers and waiting for a time when he was capable of dealing with them. Which, if it had to be said – was not right now.
The thought about what it might be like, seeing Lucifer around the hotel – that was at the front of the queue. But he'd closed his customer service window, resolutely ignoring it as he let the gentle stroke of Vox's hand and the dull ache of his body lull him into a contented sleep.
~fin~