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The greatest bane to Alastor’s existence was not his untimely death —- a shame, though, he’d not had the chance to bring some of his loftier plans to fruition. It also wasn’t waking in Hell with the addition of antlers and yet still retaining the unfortunate physical error between his legs he’d been born with, ah, well, one couldn’t expect their Creator to admit to mistakes this late in the day, now could he.
No, his true nemesis was boredom, the ever-looming stagnation of entertainment always threatened, and it was that alone that truly drove him, itching soul-deep. Those who questioned his sanity could soothe their doubts if ever they caught him in the throes of real boredom, ah, the blood spilled in those days—
But that time was sadly in the past, more’s the pity; recently he’d been gaining entertainment in the company of their lackluster and often absent King. Unexpected, to be sure, and at first unwelcome, but he did have to admit, there was a certain cachet to Lucifer’s attentions, a novel sort of amusement, and Alastor was willing to entertain a new game in the interest of keeping boredom at bay.
But as the days passed, Alastor was starting to doubt his sanity himself. His peculiar new affections were obviously driving him to madness.
It was the only explanation; why else would he have agreed to join Lucifer in court to begin with. Lucifer hated it himself and rarely attended, claiming the boredom was worse than an eternity falling from heaven.
Much as he hated boredom himself, Alastor had doubted the veracity of that at the time, but he was starting to think the assessment might well be accurate. Hours of listening to demon-kind who’d wasted their sole petition to speak in front of the King whining about trivial complaints was enough for him to begin fondly daydreaming about gouging out their eyes with jagged shards of broken glass to give them something to really complain about. He might have suggested it as an option to wrap things up more quickly if Lucifer hadn’t made his own suggestion first and it was surely proof of his own growing insanity that he’d agreed.
It began with him moving from his rather plain, uninspired chair to lounging across Lucifer’s lap on the throne; hardly the crassest display in the seven rings but well worth it for the way that little muscle began twitching beneath Satan’s eye —pathetic jealousy was such a delicious treat. It had the bonus effect of giving petitioners a pause when they came to stand before the throne and Alastor relished each double-take.
But the allure of that wore off far too quickly and when Lucifer murmured another suggestion to up the ante, Alastor could only blame his burgeoning madness for his capitulation. All it took to put their little game into play was a powerful illusion laid over them in a flagrant abuse of angelic power, a discreet rearranging of their trousers, and some impressive flexibility. That left them here and if the court had the slightest guess what was happening before their very eyes, it was not reflected in their bored expressions.
Alastor himself was anything but bored.
“Easy, sweetheart,” Lucifer crooned softly, keeping a tight grip on Alastor’s hips to keep him still, and yet how could he, how could he be still with Lucifer’s cock so deep in his cunt, the solid length of it deliciously stretching his walls as Alastor struggled against his instinctive urge to squirm. Lucifer did not allow such a thing, keeping his movements tiny and discreet. “If you move too much the best illusion in Hell won’t hide what you’re doing.”
“I’m debating how much I care,” Alastor gritted out. His claws were starting to gouge into the arms of the throne, every minuscule rub of Lucifer’s cock inside him was driving him mad, his clit throbbed for attention that he couldn’t provide, not with the eyes of the entire Court before them. Even without the illusion, he was sure they wouldn’t see much, his trousers were only peeled down to his upper thighs, the waistband keeping his legs bound together, and Lucifer’s were the same, but if he started bouncing in Lucifer’s lap like a child dandling on their father’s knee, it would be rather noticeable.
“I care.” More breath than words against his neck, the damp warmth making him shiver. “Keep that smile in place, beautiful, I don’t want any of them to guess later they’ve seen you come.” The sheer arrogance made Alastor want to hiss denials but there was no way for him to hide how his cunt clenched at those words, eager for the pleasure it knew Lucifer could grant.
Oh, this was intolerable! He’d spent most of his life and unlife uninterested in sexual indulgences, how was it that Lucifer dragged him so quickly into degeneracy?
And yet here he was, already on the verge of pleading for some form of release that would not be forthcoming. At best, he could just barely rock his hips back and forth without drawing suspicion. Not too hard or too fast, he’d learned that quickly on his first attempt when the throne beneath them creaked a complaint and fuck Lucifer for not fixing it, all it would take was a mere thought! Instead, he left the inferior craftsmanship in place while Alastor struggled for the tiniest bit of friction, daring only to clench his thighs together for what little pressure it gave his clit as he shifted so, so slightly, drawing out his growing need like a freshly sharpened straight razor.
The next petitioner came forth and Alastor didn’t hear a damn word of his pathetic whining as he asked for things from the King he surely hadn’t earned. The way his pulse was drumming in his ears it was a wonder he heard anything at all, except Lucifer’s voice cutting lazily through all of it, verging on that ever-present boredom as he dismissed the current miscreant in favor of the next.
“Yeah, don’t think so, if you want to evict them, you’ll have to pay for it yourself.” Alastor could hear him yawn, the bastard, then he moved, ah, fuck, shifting Alastor on his lap and pushing in deep for the briefest of moments as he reached for the list of claimants flung carelessly on the arm of the throne. “Doesn’t anyone have a real problem today?”
Alastor gritted his teeth against the answer that wanted to escape, the sharp taste of his own blood blossoming on his tongue as his teeth cut into his lip. He had a problem, thank you, and it was currently how much he wanted Lucifer to banish everyone in this room so that he could finally drag Alastor down and fuck him properly.
Satan’s voice cut unpleasantly through the need fogging his mind, uggh, he’d be lucky to come at all if he had to listen to that overgrown troll’s blathering. “Perhaps we could get through the list more quickly if your …consort… returned to his own seat? I fear he may be something of a distraction for you, sire.”
One did have to appreciate how much distaste fairly dripped from the word consort; it was almost enough to make Alastor want to draw things out. Almost.
“Hmm,” Lucifer said, thoughtfully. He slouched back against his throne, carelessly propping his foot up on one knee and Alastor bit back a gasp as it jostled him in Lucifer’s lap, oh, he was truly the cruel tempter of myth and legend. “Considering he’s the only thing keeping me from throwing you out a window to see how well your wings work from an airborne start, probably better he stays where he is.”
He looped an arm around Alastor’s waist, ostensibly to keep him seated and in reality dragging him down as Lucifer thrust up beneath him, all of it disguised as bored fidgeting. Alastor barely choked off a cry and he could only hope the sudden burst of radio interference that screeched through the room was assumed to be his version of sticking his tongue out at Satan.
From the way that odious monstrosity frowned, Satan didn’t suspect what was actually going on before him. He only turned away, calling sullenly for the next petitioner and Lucifer took advantage of his echoing bellow to speak.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Lucifer murmured, “you went so tight around me, are you close?”
Answering was out of the question, if he unclenched his jaw, his smile wouldn’t be the only thing the court would witness. He wasn’t nearly as confident that all the others were as oblivious as Satan, Asmodeus in particular was casting more glances their direction than was strictly necessary.
The unexpected sensation of something wriggling up between his legs caught his attention and Alastor looked down as discreetly as possible to see a tiny black nodule nudging at the barely visible crimson curls at the crux of his legs. He realized with a dizzying thrill it was tip of Lucifer’s tail slithering between his thighs to press against his cunt, impossibly flexible as it teased his clit, rubbing easily in the slickness there; he was soaking, Lucifer’s trousers were probably drenched.
He didn’t care, let Lucifer squelch as he walked down from the throne, let him chafe with every step, it would be a suitable punishment for the way he teased, hips jerking up with every flick of his tail and, Alastor didn’t care if everyone in the room was watching him, if the Goetia were clutching their pearls in distaste, if Asmodeus were scribbling notes on ways to outperform them at the next meeting.
All he cared about was the ragged pulse growing between his thighs as he squeezed them together, shuddering as he tightened helplessly around the length of Lucifer’s cock inside him, pleasure shivering convulsively through him in an enormous burst of crimson light behind his eyes. Between his legs went even wetter, slippery-warm, and he wobbled, balance lost, nearly collapsing against Lucifer and only a strong hand at the base of his spine kept him more or less upright.
His vision was still spangling as he panted through a clench-toothed smile and his cunt throbbed, threatening a second explosion that Alastor only just warded off, taking slow, deep breaths, oh, he would not be able to hide a second peak, not right the heels of the first.
“Easy, love.” The words were hardly more than a growl, Lucifer’s voice rumbling through him like an aftershock that made his cunt clench weakly around the shaft still inside him. “Stay right there. Oh, fuck, fuck, you’re gorgeous, but don’t move, baby, don’t. If I come right now, they’ll feel it down in the Wrath Ring.”
Oh, well, now, was that a hint of desperation he heard?
Alastor sat up straighter, deliberately wriggling to settle better into his lap seat. He ignored Lucifer’s gasp, the convulsive tightening of his hands as he struggled to keep Alastor still while Alastor greeted the court and its latest petitioner with a serene smile.
That sounded something like a challenge, didn’t it. He’d agreed to come to court to keep Lucifer from being bored and he was a man of his word. He’d see to it Lucifer was entertained and whether or not the rest of the court was as well depended on Lucifer’s ability to keep a straight face this time, now, didn’t it.
The game was on and Alastor did so hate to lose.
-finis