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A soul filled with sheer, absolute boredom.
Isn’t that the root of all entertainment? The Radio Demon was searching for ways to invigorate his mood. Much like gossiping women, a man going on a long outing, a child up to mischievous deeds. Except this soul prodded at the one thing that no sane person ever should: the ruler of Hell himself.
They had reached a sort of fragile truce for the sake of Charlie, keeping their flaming hate masked under playful banter and witty jabs. Every day pushing the limits of the other, wondering who’d be the first to break. The first to scar their relationship with the precious princess and lose their pride. A few times, Alastor had nearly flown too close to the sun. Receiving murderous glares and even seeing a glimpse of the true monster that laid under Lucifer’s soft exterior.
He knew the king of Hell would never harm him. For the sake of his dearest daughter, the weakness of his emotions, Alastor’s life was all but guaranteed. Fueling his bravery. His pride. Making him unafraid to push buttons and break limits.
While Charlie took her residents out on a bonding activity, the two powerful demons were put in charge of watching the hotel.
On a sensible day, they would have stayed to their own devices. Not caring about the affairs of the other. Except someone was feeling extra cocky today. Someone in need of being forced back into his place.
“Salutations, your lowness.” Alastor cooed as he manifested in Lucifer’s room. The king had been sitting at a painter’s canvas, painting his most elaborate piece thus far. The blocky outline of a black swan flapping its wings over lavender moonlit waters. “Alas! Is this something other than a duck? Color me surprised!”
Glaring eyes shot back. “They’re in the same family. And I will color you if you come any closer.” Lucifer held his paintbrush out like a sword. Pathetic.
The Radio Demon tiptoed closer, leaning from side to side to get a better angle of the painting. “I’ve seen humans with their pitifully short lives paint something better than whatever this is.”
“Thank you. Come up with something more creative.” Lucifer huffed and turned back to his piece. Not even gracing the other with his gaze. “Go do a broadcast. Gossip with your lady friend. Get a hobby.”
“Oh, but I do have a hobby!” Alastor appeared in the space between king and canvas, knocking him backward off his stool.
An annoyed groan. “Uh huh…what’s that?”
“You!”
Lucifer rose from the ground and recollected his paints. Magic made short work of cleaning the spill. “Look, I’m flattered. But I want to be left alone.”
“You and your dumb little duckies?”
“Yes, me and my dumb little duckies.”
Silence hung in the air as they stared at each other. One patiently waiting for the other to move from his inconvenient position. Alastor finally receded so the king could return to his painter’s throne. Beginning to fill in the detail on the swan’s feathers. Paying a gross amount of attention to every tiny stroke that represented the moon’s light and shadow.
“You know…” Alastor’s voice chimed, and his rival went weak with dread, “Charlie isn’t here.” A raised eyebrow looked suspicious. Wondering what conniving thoughts were cooking in that psychopathic mind. “Which means you can let loose! I know you want to hurt me. Strangle me. Do terrible things and laugh as I suffer.”
A hum of interest came involuntarily from Lucifer. As if he pleasured from the thought. But then he sighed, immediately catching himself from going on that path. The path this sinner wanted to lead him down on a noose of manipulation. “What would you gain from it?” he asked calmly.
“Nothing, I suppose. Just thought you may be able to be a better father to Charlie after letting out some of that pent up energy. It makes you so stiff.” Alastor innocently explained. But he knew the inner workings of the psyche. If you do something once, it becomes easier to do again and again. His own murders began with anxiety and hesitance. Feelings that became less and less evident with each life stolen. In the same way, Lucifer could release his raw hate. Easier. Easier. Until he let loose in front of his little girl and lost the game of rivalry.
Lucifer shook himself away from temptation. Choosing to enthrall himself with the black swan instead. Its wings took shape as if it could fly from the cloth. Up higher and higher into the moonlit sky. Until it disappeared. Swallowed by blackness. One of Alastor’s tentacles punched a massive hole through the center, claiming his next victim. Shock. Disbelief.
On a sensible day, Lucifer would have patched up the canvas and continued his work. Except that art was not something magic could recreate. The original love and care forever gone. Today was not a sensible day. That was evident from the start.
Lucifer took deep breaths. Huffed for composure. Alastor watched from the tips of his hooves. Waiting. Knowing his dismissed words were still hanging in Lucifer’s head like flies. Buzzing. Landing. Polluting everything they touched. Charlie will never know. This sinner can be put in his place. Humbled. Silenced.
Suddenly Lucifer’s horns shot out and his eyes turned to blood. His claws grew out several inches. Tail wisped in grotesque glory. His stature doubled. Tripled. The short king now a monster to be reckoned with. His obsession moving from sweet ducks and swans to pain and torment. The Lucifer of the Bible, evil and tempting in all his ways.
Alastor was unaware that he kept stepping backward until his back touched the wall. Nowhere to go. Trapped. The wall right beside his head shattered as Lucifer’s claws dug into it like soft clay. The force of the wind brushing his hair. His heart pounding hard in respect of this glorious beast. Power emanated from every fiber of its being. Horrifying. Beautiful.
No sooner had Alastor found his breath did it get stolen again. The mere touch of Lucifer’s other hand at his throat took it out, along with his voice. His body responded according to royalty. Going weak in honor of this absolute ruler. Lucifer’s six wings folded out and intimidated him with their bold red hue. It was beyond terrifying. Exciting. Gorgeous.
“You…are…so beautiful…” the words leaked out of Alastor without him realizing it. He was in total awe of this pure angelic power that transcended anything he was capable of. A mere whimming thought enough to crush his life. Lucifer grabbed his tender face, squishing his smiling cheeks. Leaning into his neck to whisper, breath tickling his skin in a way that made his entire body go limp.
“I am the most beautiful angel. At least you’re not that stupid.” Lucifer breathed in. He could smell the blood. Feel the warmth. Imagine himself tearing it out of the sinner’s body with his teeth. His tongue ventured to get a taste, a sensation that made Alastor arch his back and let out a pitiful whine of fear. The sound alone being more of a dessert than the blood itself. The man who thought he’d had the world under his thumb, reduced to a sniveling piece of goo in mere seconds.
Lucifer leaned in further, crushing him against the wall. What started as one fearful whine lead to another and another. Easier. Easier. “You’re like a deer in a trap, aren’t you? Bleating desperately for the hunter’s mercy?” the king licked his lips as if he could taste the fear as a tangible substance. Dripping sweet. The image flustered Alastor to no end. His face burning red as he felt like his everything was about to explode. He made direct eye contact with Lucifer and melted down the wall like butter.
“That’s it. You’re looking UP to me now, aren’t you, little buck~? Helpless. Nothing.” Lucifer taunted, baby talking his prey. Playing with it before the kill. Breaking it, making it cry, making it shiver and shake as it experienced the thrill of sitting at death’s door. “Say something. If you can.” the crooning voice tickled those soft deer ears.
Yet as utterly terrified as Alastor was, he was able to enjoy this. Charlie. His shield from this divine creature. Knowing that he was protected from such an unstoppable force made him feel untouchable himself. That kind of power, being able to circumvent brawn with cunning, only boosted his manufactured ego. No display of Lucifer’s could do more than put on a show. Be a source of entertainment. Entertainment that made him feel unexplainably good. Sent to a place where he didn’t have to truly fear or worry about anything. A place of satisfaction and safety.
Another lick on his sensitive neck had Alastor’s eyes fluttering closed. A humming laugh. Rising into soft giggles. “Oh, you’re laughing at me, hmm?” Lucifer didn’t sound annoyed. If anything, he was equally entertained by the reactions he was getting. First a show of submissive fear, now drawing out a softer and more tender side. “Humans are so adorable…” Lucifer licked again, receiving a precious little squeal, “...they get scared, and their instinct is to laugh. To become weaker. Completely give themselves over to the predator. Isn’t God’s design so…humbling~?”
The claws that had been embedded in the wall now threatened to do the same to Alastor’s side. Before they even made contact, Alastor was already twisting away in anticipation. “D-Don’t please!” the words squeaked out.
“Please don’t what?” Lucifer slowly undid the buttons of that tacky and tattered coat. One less layer he’d have to break through. As soon as his claws brushed against those ribs, separated only by a thin dress shirt, any semblance of a reply drowned in staticy giggles. “Relax, little deer. I haven’t even done anything! You’re so weak and cute, aren’t you~?”
But Alastor’s eyes were meeting Lucifer’s once again. Pitiable. Afraid. Searching for mercy. Those claws suddenly bore into the unprotected ribs. The Radio Demon’s body twisted on the floor as he froze. Huffing heavily through his smiling teeth as he maintained eye contact. Those eyes begging. Pleading. But not hard enough.
The huffs were gradually imbued with a whining voice. Taking on the shape of laughter. No more manipulative words from that slithering tongue, only unintelligible noise of a powerless soul. “Can you speak? You’re such a smooth talker, surely you have something to say?” Lucifer teased, rightfully pleased when his prey couldn’t respond.
His teeth trailed along both sides of Alastor’s neck in search of a sensitive place to nibble. Whatever nerve the demon had left was spent not letting his weakness be found. But each second of searching made it more difficult. One spot caused his breath to hitch and body to curl. That was the delicious little spot that the predator wanted.
Almost a sloppy kiss, but with the chill of teeth. Closing down on that sweet little spot. Alastor kicked and erupted into a loud scream of laughter. His weakness pleasing the monster like nothing else ever had. Those sharp teeth gently nibbled. Eating away. Grazing the nerves. Tasting the weakness of the demon who’d been so pompous only moments ago. Melting him beyond belief.
Those large seraphim wings flitted across the gentle deer ears, dropping this frail creature even further into a ticklish hell. Making him go dumb. Look idiotic and stupefied. Lay limp on the ground except for the movement caused by uncontrollable, almost silent, desperate giggles. It was beginning to get too quiet. Unnervingly quiet.
Lucifer’s claws gently lifted up the dress shirt, snaking their way to a furry belly. Exposing the softest part of the Radio Demon’s body to any punishment his predator saw fit. Perhaps tearing it open and counting the organs inside. Perhaps tasting it before digging in for a meal of raw flesh. But of course he could only begin devouring it from the most sensitive place first.
Those claws skittered across the exposed furry belly, searching for the perfect place to strike. He’d already exploited such a spot in the poor deer’s neck. It would become easier. Easier. The cute little giggles pitched up an octave while the ticklish tummy was searched. The whole thing a death spot, but of course one place stood out above the rest. Lucifer gently teased circles around Alastor’s adorable navel. A sweet little exploitable thing it was.
A whole new wave of giggles erupted from Alastor. His body trying so hard to show submission to a more powerful being. Begging to be spared. Being oh so endearing in doing so. How could Lucifer not treat it with all the delicacy and fragility it deserved? Even when Alastor made futile attempts to suck his stomach in, twist aside, or employ any pitiable tactic to escape the inevitable. Lucifer’s claw remained on top of it, reminding his prey just how helpless it was.
He kept tracing pictures around the button, childish drawings that nobody would ever see but that Alastor would forever associate with danger. Anticipation. Knowing that at any moment, the king could decide to tear him open. Spread his guts all over the room as decorative trophies. Yes, Lucifer could do anything he wanted. But all he wanted was to remind this little deer who ruled him. Remind him of words such as “respect” and “humility” that seemed to have weasled their way out of his dictionary.
The room suddenly exploded with screaming laughter. Lucifer’s claws had dug into the soft flesh, nonlethally. Setting alight every nerve with signals of danger and impending doom. Alastor couldn’t even begin to fathom a way to suppress the sounds. His entire body put itself into those laughs and cries of mercy. Its last dying throes to ward off this otherwordly horror. He laughed and laughed, so hard that it felt like his lungs would pop and belly explode. Not even deep gasps of air were enough to keep his mind from blanking out. Everything becoming a blur. One frightening and happy little dream.
Then it stopped. Physically, at least. Lucifer pulled back, watching as his prey continued to giggle and squirm from the shadows of his touch. Crying and completely gone into some other mental world. He sighed and went back to his usual, short form. Feeling satisfied. Pleased. Accomplished. He tiptoed over to Alastor’s head to gently brush away messy, sweaty hair from his face. Smiling at the giggling, drooling mess. This smile had nothing shifty behind it. Nothing at all, in fact. How could Alastor possibly have a single thought after all that? His brain must have been made of goo, if only for a few satisfying minutes.
“Don’t test me again. We wouldn’t want to have another accident like this, would we?” Lucifer cooed as he rubbed the flushed cheeks. But wherever Alastor’s consciousness was, it wasn’t here in the afterlife of the living. He peacefully returned to his painting, setting the paintbrush to a new canvas. Maybe for once he would try painting something other than a swan or a duck. He glanced down at the drooling mess on his carpet. A playful smirk danced onto his face.
Alastor wouldn’t be moving for a while. What a lovely little still-life to immortalize in art.
What a lovely, sensible day.