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Summary
Angelic blood is an upper like no other, far from the easy mellowness whiskey brings him. And it’s not just whatever physiological slash magical interaction between Lucifer's blood and his own body taking place; there’s the psychosexual dynamic, the power trip of Alastor, a mortal soul and once a mere human, feasting on one of the most powerful, immortal souls to ever exist, two knuckles deep in the king of all of Hell himself. Alastor’s no fool – he knows the power differential here. Lucifer may be playing helpless and weak for his own sexual gratification, but there isn’t a doubt in Alastor’s mind that he could re-summon his incontestable holy powers at the snap of a finger and tear Alastor to pieces before he could even blink. Rather than being put off by their power gap as he had been when they first met, Alastor now finds Lucifer coming to heel of his own choice far more appealing than if he had the power necessary to force the issue himself. Not that he’s ever been opposed to forcing people to give him what he wants – he’s killed for less. It’s the choice itself, the willingness to dull his powers and submit to a soul far lesser than his own, that fascinates Alastor. Intrigues him. Satisfies something deep in his gut.