Work Text:
Lucifer had never asked to be a dominant.
Never asked, and never wanted to be.
Seriously – it was bad enough that once humans came along he felt like he had to pick a gender, but then to have this dynamic foisted upon him as a consequence of his fall? As if he hadn't already been punished enough.
And it was a punishment – he didn't see why it made such a difference to Lilith, but it did. He'd tried his hardest to act the role of Submissive for her, with none of the instincts and nobody else to learn from except Eve – and she was dealing with her own shit. He really couldn't understand Lilith's frustration, her apathy towards him and her interest in those sinners who started to arrive who really were Submissives.
Slowly, it had chipped away at them, and Lucifer had holed up in his workshop. None of the Submissives she'd brought home had ever sparked that same feeling in him that she seemed to experience, that possessive desire, the urge to have them. He figured maybe his dynamic was broken, just like the rest of him.
That was, of course – until he met Alastor.
The second he'd seen the man, it had been clear his dynamic was Submissive. But he was so, so full of himself. So egotistical, so contrary – so antagonistic. Towards him! Lucifer! A Dominant, even if he'd never asked to be!
And not just that – the damn King of Hell.
Every other Submissive he'd met – and they weren't all that common in Hell, in fairness – had subtly acknowledged his power, lowering their gaze or demonstrating in whatever way fit best for them that they were his, should he choose to take them. It didn't matter if they were attracted to him or not – their instincts quailed at his strength.
Except that fucking guy.
For the first time, Lucifer found his blood heating, an understanding of everything Lilith had tried to explain to him finally unfurling in his mind, like a tapestry that had, until now, been tightly rolled up on the wall.
Alastor was a Submissive – and he was not acting like it.
The thoughts that crept into Lucifer's mind would have shamed him to speak aloud – he wasn't a violent person, not really – but he wanted to push Alastor to his knees and use that venomous mouth of his until his eyes watered. Wanted to roll him over and see just how many snarky comments he could manage to choke out through his moans while getting fucked into the floor.
He wanted to see Alastor's eyes glaze over as he acknowledged Lucifer's power, his status – his dynamic – in relation to his. So much that it was almost terrifying.
All those thoughts and more swirled around Lucifer's mind, faced with the reality of the situation – he wanted Alastor.
None of those thoughts were helpful right now, and neither was that reality. Because right now, his job was to patch the idiot up after he'd decided to get near chopped in half, like the goddamn spindly tree of a man that he was.
Lucifer pushed the roaring of his blood to the back of his consciousness, staring at his own hands as they glowed a soft gold, slowly knitting together already terribly scarred skin. He didn't know what Alastor had been purchasing, but it had certainly cost him more than a pound of flesh in his time.
At least he was being quiet. Staring down at Lucifer's hands as he sat propped on the bed, his smile so tight it looked painful. Wasn't being the mouthy asshole he had been when they'd first met. If he'd finally had some sense knocked into him by having the shit kicked out of him, then maybe Lucifer could ignore the little voice in his head screaming 'have him! He should be yours!'
“Is this going to take all day, sire, or do you think you could possibly speed it up? I have appointments to keep, you see. Can't be dilly-dallying around just so you can put on your little light show!” Alastor piped up, the disrespect present in every word making Lucifer briefly see red, taste ash on his tongue for a moment as his more demonic side tried to take over.
Oh, for fu-
* * * * * *
Alastor didn't like being a Submissive. Thought that of all the cosmic jokes in the world, that was probably the least amusing.
At least it had come in handy during his living years – Dominants were so easy to lure in with the promise of a svelte young Submissive. They never expected him to be able to ignore the itch in his hind-brain long enough to splatter their brains with an axe.
Still – since he'd started gaining power in Hell, rarely did that itch flare up. There were so few Dominants who could match him in strength, and he could only consider himself lucky that the first one to have found him, to have taken him under her wing, was dear Rosie.
No interest in him for his dynamic, perfectly happy with the Submissive she'd partnered up with, it was a valuable relationship – she helped him gain power until there was little to no risk of an over-eager Dominant sensing him and trying their luck.
Well – that wasn't quite correct. Some Dominants had still tried – some had tried to win him over or make him submit for years, even under the guise of friendship. One specific Dominant, to be exact, and he was still pissy that Alastor had never succumbed to him, even when he'd gained in strength.
He'd always been able to fight his baser instincts. Those who could match his power level grew ever smaller in number, and of the few who were stronger, none had any interest in him.
Right now, that itch in his hind-brain was burning.
Alastor had sensed Lucifer's dynamic – and his strength – as soon as he'd walked in the hotel. Of course he had – everybody had. And he'd done what had always worked for him in the past – that was, he went on the attack. Forced Lucifer onto the back-foot, attempted to put him off balance. Made himself as unappealing as possible, not worth the effort it would take to subdue.
'I'm too much of a problem,' his actions broadcast. 'You don't want me.'
If the best defence was a strong offence, then by all means, Alastor could be the most offensive person in Hell.
Unfortunately, it didn't seem to have worked.
The power Lucifer was using to heal his injury was palpable, cloying in the air like apple-blossom honey. So thick that when Alastor's mouth briefly opened as a grunt of pain he couldn't suppress escaped him, he could taste it. There was no denying it – and he would be insane to try.
Lucifer was stronger than him.
Lucifer was a Dominant, and he was stronger than him – so much stronger that Alastor's tail had been quivering against his belt for the last ten minutes, his nerves pulled as tight as bowstrings while he waited for Lucifer to finish this ridiculous procedure and leave.
He had tried to keep quiet. Figured that the best way to get through this was with as little conversation as possible. But as his nerves twanged and his heart thundered against his ribs as if it wanted to break free, he couldn't stop himself from lashing out.
Alastor saw the flash of red behind Lucifer's eyes as his temper flared, something twisting in his gut at the sight.
“Oh, sure. Let me just rush through this, and you can just fucking die instead, how does that sound?” Lucifer growled out, his temper bubbling to the surface so quickly, Alastor couldn't suppress the flash of pride that sang in his blood at the sight. That he could be responsible for provoking such a reaction from the King of Hell – why, he would certainly put that on his resume!
“If it spares me from being pawed at and manhandled by you, then I rather think I'd prefer it,” Alastor spat back, his ears trembling with the effort it took to stop them pinning at the predator sharp snarl Lucifer shot him, red pupils narrowed to slits in a sea of yellow.
“Manhandled? Oh, I'll show you manhandling, you little shit-” Lucifer snapped, one hand leaving Alastor's chest to wrap around an antler, yanking his head back and pushing it against the bedhead, his neck creaking with the force of it.
Alastor's stomach lurched, his mind stilling as he was forced into baring his throat, Lucifer's hold on his antler as effective as if he'd attached a rod to his skull. Unbidden, his static crackled as a spike of panic flared through his veins, eyes blowing wide.
Try as he might to fight against it, a sound caught in his throat, ears lowering as Lucifer's gaze bored into him, the strength of the man radiating through the room.
And Alastor whimpered.
* * * * * *
Holy shit.
Holy fucking shit.
Alastor had just – that sound had been what Lucifer thought it was, right? It couldn't have been anything else, and heat rushed through his veins to pool low in his gut at the way Alastor was looking at him, lids falling low even as his smile turned twisted and hateful.
Instincts he'd never had before sparked to life, wanting more of that. To see how far he could push the man until he was a writhing, sweating mess on the bed, panting at his touch, begging Lucifer to fuck him until he couldn't walk, and-
Lucifer blinked, clearing the haze from his vision.
What the fuck was he thinking?
He was losing it – this was Alastor. The damn Radio Demon, his daughter's employee and friend.
And Lucifer still had a hand wrapped around his antler, pushing him around like he was no stronger than a toy.
My toy, that traitorous little voice at the back of his mind whispered, and Lucifer's tongue flicked out to wet his lips. Alastor's attention snapped to it, pupils blowing wide as he trembled. For the first time since grabbing him, Lucifer realised he hadn't said a single word in the intervening seconds, the silence dragging out between them, broken only by the faint hum of radio feedback, buzzing in the air.
“If I'd known this was all it took to shut you up, I would have done it a long time ago,” Lucifer muttered, his voice rough and tainted with his more demonic side. Alastor's eyes narrowed into a glare, even as his chest fluttered, jack-rabbit quick, his heart beating so fast Lucifer could feel it under the hand he still had splayed across his quickly healing wound.
A few moments more, and it would be done.
“Fuck you,” Alastor bit out, cursing as he so rarely did. Pushed to breaking point, and all because of a little hand on a little antler. Adorable, really, when you stopped to think about it. Lucifer bared his teeth in a grin, as genuine as the one Alastor was wearing.
“Oh? Is that an invitation?” he purred out, his blood pounding through his body and rushing straight to his dick, hardening against the front of his trousers. Alastor snapped his mouth shut, doubt flickering behind those crimson eyes for the first time since Lucifer had met him.
He glanced down – Alastor's flesh had finished knitting together, leaving a long, diagonal scar in place of that awful wound he'd taken. Lucifer lifted his hand, shaking it to dismiss the power still clinging to his fingers, and lifted one knee onto the bed, looming over the other man to run a finger over his mouth.
Take him take him take him-
“You've never met a Dominant who could take you, have you? What's it like, Alastor? What are your instincts screaming at you to do? Are they telling you to keep fighting me, or are they telling you to open that filthy mouth of yours and take my cock, hmm?” Lucifer asked, his own lids lowering as a flush spread across his cheeks, the words tumbling from his lips before he could stop to consider them.
It had never been like this, before. Not with any of the Submissives Lilith had brought home, the ones she'd shown him as she worked them until they were so desperate to please her, it seemed their minds had been addled. But she'd never been so aggressive with them, either.
Alastor's cheeks were burning, red staining those sharp cheekbones as his eyes flicked down to the front of Lucifer's pants, something like a squeak the only noise he made. He seemed to be struggling to focus, his eyes alternately sharp and glazed – christ.
He was fighting his instincts with everything he had, wasn't he?
Lucifer was almost impressed.
It took a lot to stand up to him, even for another Dominant – for a Submissive to do it – it was nothing short of insane. Alastor really wasn't playing with a full deck, was he?
“Do you want me to have you, Alastor? Have you been waiting all this time for somebody strong enough to tame that shitty attitude of yours? Then open the fuck up – and watch those teeth,” Lucifer growled, tasting ash on his tongue once more as he fumbled with his belt, yanking his zipper down and dragging his cock out, harder than he could remember being in years.
Alastor's eyes widened, and he wriggled against Lucifer's hold for a moment – before his mouth fell open, tongue lolling over those sharp bottom teeth as he panted, his pupils blown to deep black pools.
“Good boy,” Lucifer crooned, edging up on the bed and throwing one knee over Alastor's chest, the demon squirming against his hand – Lucifer almost yanked on his antler again, before he realised the other man was trying to sink lower, to scoot down between Lucifer's legs – and he smirked.
“There we go.”
* * * * * *
Fuck.
As much as Alastor tried to push the itch at the back of his brain into submission, it refused to budge – pushing back against him just as forcefully, his pulse racing at the thrill of having somebody stronger than him, somebody so powerful – shoving him down. Talking to him like that, like – like – like he was doing the right thing.
Maybe it wasn't so bad. Maybe letting go, just this once – he could accept it.
It was the King of Hell, after all. If he had to finally submit to somebody, after more than one hundred years – well. Nobody could ever say he'd let himself be taken easily.
“Good boy,” Lucifer's words stroked something deep in his subconscious, a low whine catching in his throat. Pleasure wrapped around his spine, satisfaction at a job well done, at impressing the man so much to have earnt that praise.
He'd never had a cock in his mouth before. Well – not one that wasn't attached to a sinner he was swallowing whole, at which point it wasn't even noticeable. Worse was when they were wearing leather, that took hours to pick out from his teeth.
The tip of Lucifer's bumped against his lips, and he flicked his tongue over the wet beading there almost automatically, his mind buzzing. The voice – his voice – telling him to get a hold of himself getting fainter and fainter.
Oh, how it railed against the walls of his mind, hissing furiously as Lucifer's cock slid into his mouth, the hand on his antler guiding – controlling – his movements. He lifted his hands to grip Lucifer's hips, only to have them slapped away with a thrum of Angelic power, forced back to the bed and held there, a thrill so strong shooting through him that he moaned around Lucifer's dick, eyes closing and ears sagging on his head.
“Oh – oh, you're taking me so well. You're fucking made for this, Alastor. Deeper – can you take me deeper?” Lucifer breathed out, Alastor's tail wagging against his belt as he lashed his tongue against the underside of the shaft, hollowing his cheeks and sucking when Lucifer let out a breathless, shocked gasp.
He hummed an affirmative, unable to nod, an ache starting to build between his own legs and a flurry of nerves rushing up his thighs at the feeling of his wrists being pinned down, of Lucifer fucking into his throat, bumping against the back of it – and deeper, Lucifer cursing as Alastor's nose pressed against soft golden curls, a surprised tightening of his throat muscles the only evidence of his inexperience.
“F-fuck. You – all the way. You took – oh, holy-” Lucifer choked out, Alastor's grin stretching as much as it could with his lips wrapped around the king's shaft, both smugly satisfied and vaguely amused. Lucifer was the one choking on air, and he was the one with a cock shoved halfway down his throat.
By all rights, that should have been his line.
He swallowed, throat clenching around the tip of Lucifer's dick, a faint hint of apples coating his mouth as he wrapped his tongue around Lucifer's shaft, static hissing and popping in the air as Lucifer pulled his head back – and shoved it back down, using him, like he really had been made for this-
“I – shit. There's something at the window,” Lucifer gasped, jerking back, a thread of spittle joining Alastor's lips to the tip of his dick for a moment, gleaming obscenely before it snapped.
Alastor's chest heaved, his breathing raw and ragged. Trying to focus on anything right now felt like he was trying to drag his thoughts through cotton wool, an unfamiliar urge to be compliant, and docile, and everything Lucifer wanted him to be the only thing currently running through his mind.
After a moment, he recognised the shape, his words so thick with static it was a wonder Lucifer could understand him.
“It's just Vox,” he mumbled, trembling in Lucifer's hold. He ran his tongue over his lips, feeling the slight swell of them and delighting in it. “He's always wanted me.”
* * * * * *
The idea of somebody else having Alastor – of wanting him, subduing him, of making him theirs – it set a fire burning in Lucifer's belly that had nothing to do with the hot glut of pleasure pulsing at the base of his dick.
He was the only one who was going to stake his claim, here. Alastor was his Submissive, and if anyone else ever thought about taking him, they'd find themselves wiped off the face of Hell.
Lucifer didn't even stop to think about when he'd decided Alastor was his, but the thought felt right. What other Submissive would do, except one who prodded at his temper so skilfully, who set his heart racing and his blood surging through his veins like somebody had hooked him up to a generator?
Well, if Vox thought he had any chance of having Alastor, he could damn well watch as Lucifer made it quite clear he was the only one strong enough to tame him.
Alastor made no protest when he left the drone floating there – though that was probably because he'd already sunk into whatever instincts Submissives had, his ears sagging fetchingly low, lips swollen and pink – god, they'd looked so good, wrapped around his cock, that petty mouth finally doing something useful-
Lucifer shifted, swinging his leg back over Alastor's chest, kneeling at his side with his cock hanging from his open fly, aching and hard and covered in the demon's saliva.
How did he want him?
On his back, so he could see Alastor's face while he fucked into him, see those red eyes glazed with pleasure? Riding him, making Vox watch as the Submissive he wanted bounced on Lucifer's dick?
“Have you ever done this before?” Lucifer asked, retaining at least enough presence of mind to check that much. He let go of the demon's antler as he felt him jerk, and Alastor shook his head, panting as he arched his back against the mattress, wrists still trapped beside his head.
“On your belly, then, sweetheart. You can do that for me, can't you?” Lucifer murmured, the pet name falling from his lips before he had a chance to call it back. One of Alastor's ears twitched, a flicker of annoyance flashing in those eyes – and Lucifer laid a hand on his ribs, pricking ever so slightly against the thin skin stretched over too prominent bones.
Whatever irritation Alastor had managed to muster up faded as he whined, wriggling against that touch. Lucifer smirked, releasing the magical bonds around Alastor's wrists, digging his claws in again in silent warning. Alastor let out a staticky little sound at that, hips jerking at nothing, and when Lucifer looked down he was almost surprised to see the bulge pressing against the front of his pants.
“You like that, hmm? You like it when I show you who's in control, here?” Lucifer asked, his voice nothing more than a low purr. Alastor nodded, trembling as he waited for Lucifer to remove his claws, to allow him to roll over as he'd been asked to do.
He clawed into the mattress as he flipped onto his stomach, and Lucifer's eyes widened as he caught his first glimpse of a tuft of red fur just peeking out above the waistband of Alastor's pants, crimson fur tipped with black – just like his hair. Or his ears.
Without a second thought, he waved his hand, removing those pants and getting an eyeful of sparse flesh – and the most adorable fucking tail he'd ever seen, quivering as it flattened over Alastor's cleft.
Well, that was an unexpected delight.
He shifted, pushing one of Alastor's knees up the bed but otherwise leaving him laying flat. It might have been easier, to put him on his knees – but Lucifer wanted to drape himself over the sinner's back as he fucked him, wanted to hold him down, feel every little tremor and wriggle he made-
But first, he wanted to touch that tail.
It was too tempting to resist, and Lucifer reached out, pushing one finger under the base of it and stroking upwards, lifting it out of the way and seeing the streak of white on the underside.
Alastor jerked, a whine of microphone feedback ringing in the air, hips rutting forward as his claws dug into the mattress. When Lucifer glanced up at his face, it was to see his cheek pressed against the bed, the red slit of one glazed eye watching him as best he could over his shoulder, his mouth open and panting.
Lucifer smirked, and stroked over his tail again.
* * * * * *
Alastor desperately tried to suck air down his burning throat, feeling as if his entire lower back and spine had been set on fire. Every touch, every tug on his tail, particularly when Lucifer dug his fingers through the fur to reach the velvety nub of skin beneath – it sent a spiderweb of nerves firing from that point of contact, his dick pressed uncomfortably against the mattress.
He whined, his entire body pliant, nothing more than an instrument for Lucifer to strum how he wished. That primal urge he'd suppressed for so long was singing, the knowledge repeating itself in his mind over and over, a single phrase;
You're his you're his you're his-
For the first time in his life, he was going to be claimed.
Had he been in his right mind, he would have been ashamed of how his dick twitched at the thought, and something in him did still try to rebel, to scream at him that he was letting himself be humiliated – he gagged that voice, stifling it as his static hissed and crackled in the air.
The first push of a slick finger against his hole ripped a high pitched squeak from his throat, automatically trying to lurch away from the intrusion, digging his claws into the mattress to tug his chest forward – but a sharp pull on his tail sent a bolt of pleasure up his spine, his legs trembling at Lucifer's voice.
“Hold still. You're okay.”
So different – so much gentler, now. Was it because Alastor wasn't fighting him, any longer? He whimpered, his heart pounding so hard against his ribs he thought it was going to burst straight through the bottom of the mattress, and tried to keep still as Lucifer pushed that finger in to the knuckle, the invasion so strange – and at the same time delectable, the king touching a part of him nobody else – not even himself – had ever touched.
“Good boy. Relax, sweetheart, you're doing great. Vox is watching. He's going to see me fuck you into the mattress, what do you think about that?” Lucifer murmured, pulling his finger out and returning with two, Alastor's stomach lurching as his rim was stretched and Lucifer slowly worked those fingers into him, scissoring them gently against his inner walls.
His mind buzzed, knowing he'd been asked a question but taking a moment to register it.
Vox?
Vox had nothing to do with this, had never been strong enough to make Alastor his.
Only Lucifer was able to soothe the itch at the back of his brain until his head felt fuzzy, whimpering softly as Lucifer added a third finger, the faint burn of it nothing compared to the fire racing through his bloodstream.
“Good,” he slurred out, his tongue thick and disobedient. Lucifer huffed a sound of amusement behind him, and his tail tried to wiggle in the other man's hand. The feeling of Lucifer's fingers inside him, stretching him, filling him – it sent heat fluttering up over his hips to pulse in his dick, and he rocked against the mattress, freezing and letting out a despondent sound when Lucifer pulled all three fingers from him.
Lucifer hushed him, a sticky hand landing on his back when he tried to push himself up to look over his shoulder, to find out where he'd gone. He'd been doing great, after all – so why had Lucifer stopped?
Everything in him stilled, even his static going silent as the head of Lucifer's cock nudged against his hole, nothing but dead air and the sound of his ragged breathing to be heard over Lucifer's own stuttered breaths.
One last, desperate protest screeched in his mind, urging him to turn into shadows and flee before he let himself be claimed by somebody else. He turned his internal radio dial to another station, fuzzy static filling his brain and the air as Lucifer pushed forward, a filter-heavy noise escaping him as he was stretched further than Lucifer's slim fingers could have prepared him for.
Oh-
Fuck.
* * * * * *
Fuck – It had never – never felt like this before. Not with anybody.
Not just how hot the sinner was inside, how tightly he clenched around Lucifer's cock as he eased forward, static filling the air – something about it just felt right. Like a puzzle piece fitting into the piece it had been cut from.
Lucifer lowered himself to his elbows, braced either side of Alastor's chest – then slumped down, covering him as much as he could, bottoming out with a gasp as the demon clamped around him, still moving, slightly – wriggling underneath his body, rocking-
Rocking into the mattress, desperate noises catching in his throat. His claws dug into the sheets, clenching and unclenching, his tail ticklish where it was pinned against Lucifer's unmarked belly.
“Please, sire – you need – make me-”
Lucifer caught the words hissed breathlessly into the sheets, the plea sending a thrill of pleasure straight to his cock, heat gathering low in his belly as he rolled his hips. Not drawing his cock out of the other man, just grinding inside him, trying to get as deep as he could possibly go and savouring the feedback heavy moan that motion dragged out of the sinner.
“Make you what?” Lucifer growled, pressing his forehead to Alastor's back, slipping against sweat slicked skin. Pressure pooled at the base of his cock, how long had they been doing this? Not long, not long at all, but – fuck.
“Yours, make me yours, please,” Alastor got out, his words rough and almost garbled.
A rush of satisfaction spiked straight through Lucifer, an overwhelming urge to do just that grabbing his mind as he lifted his hips, fucking down into the demon below him. A cry broke from Alastor's throat, spurring him on, the tight clench of the demon's ass around his cock making Lucifer see stars as he squeezed his eyes shut.
Mine mine mine mine-
Ash on his tongue, Lucifer was close – so fucking close – and he sank his teeth into Alastor's back, muffling his shout in the other man's flesh as he pinned him to the bed, filling him with his spend and staking his claim in a way nobody could argue with.
He jerked as Alastor whimpered, the spiralling clamp around his still twitching cock almost too much to bear, and he knew the sinner had climaxed at the feeling of Lucifer coming inside him.
Lucifer tasted iron on his tongue, and lifted his head to see a perfect ring of marks over Alastor's shoulder blade, blood pooling in those pinpricks. He ran his tongue over his teeth, swallowing down the taste of him, letting a thread of Angelic power trickle from him to run over those marks, possessive and greedy.
They wouldn't heal, now – not fully. They'd leave a perfect series of scars to go with the rest of Alastor's collection, Lucifer's claim a permanent reminder on his skin.
The lights in the room dimmed and brightened, like they'd somehow fucked themselves into a rave without knowing about it. Lucifer glanced to the drone at the window, deliberately flashing his bloodied teeth as it sparked – before he made a gun out of his fingers, zapping it and sending a pulse straight through the network.
No recordings, thank you, Vox. Hope you enjoyed the show.
Alastor whined, wriggling uncomfortably beneath him, and Lucifer belatedly realised he was still balls deep in the taller man. He pulled out with a groan, watching with lowered lids as his come trickled over Alastor's thigh.
Lifting his eyes to Alastor's face, he saw the sinner blinking at him, dazed. A shiver wracked his spindly frame, and something new barrelled into Lucifer's mind, an urge to soothe, to help – to make sure his Submissive was doing well, because-
“You did so well for me, sweetheart,” Lucifer murmured, a smirk tugging at his lips when Alastor's tail gave a tired little wag.
“Let's get you cleaned up.”
When he came back to himself, Alastor was going to be more of a nightmare than ever, spitting and hissing at him like a feral cat. As Lucifer summoned a cloth, gently wiping away sweat, blood and come alike, he grinned to himself.
Well.
It was a good thing he knew how to handle him now, wasn't it?
~fin~