Work Text:
i can’t remember the last time i ached for someone’s touch this much. dead or alive. or if i ever did at all. grown used to reject the core nature of it.
yet here i am. with you slipping right through my fingers. teasing my wit. edging my patience. it’s borderline insulting, really. the irony of it all.
it happened in the blink of an eye. too soon. too fast.
“alastor!”
oh, your majesty, how dare you lower your guard? the price you pay for your mellow little heart. a cannibal hungrier than own my throbbing gut.
what a burden. how foolish. how unfair. yet, a selfish part of me secretly hopes you don’t regret it.
that you don’t regret loving me.
“lucifer, behind you!”
checkmate.
your sacrifice turned miracle by a hair. the angelic spear piercing right through one of your wings. the upper one on the right.
you can’t heal. not this one.
holy metal missing by an inch that hidden spot in the back of your neck. the one i press my lips against every night. the one i claimed as mine.
you see red. you go on a rampage. bloodthirst fueled slaughter painting the battlefield bright gold. pure handcrafted sunshine.
the exterminators retreat. heaven doesn’t dare face the wrath of the fallen. the mighty stormbringer.
they know better than to stand a chance against a devoted lover.
i volunteered to take care of you. i caused this. so i have to. or i would if you only stayed still.
“would you stop behaving like a child and let me help? i know you’re upset but this is getting ridiculous.”
in war we do not get the luxury nor the time to debate over emotional liabilities. unforeseen commodities such as raw infatuation.
lukewarm affection a feast to a starving king. i could break you. tear you apart inside out and you will still follow me through the depths of hell. thank me for it.
because heartbreak is something you’re used to. bitter and addictive. you know nothing besides it.
has always chased you down but you’ve grown to be faster. remembered that you can fly.
you click that devious tongue of yours. moving your injured wing away from my reach. again. how annoying and insolent.
you better not make me resort to drastic measures, your majesty. this is already ugly and difficult enough as it is.
the intoxicating and oddly sweet smell of your seraphic blood not helping much.
“i’m not upset because i almost got myself killed.”
you’re not making any sense. it’s not exactly unusual. i would usually find it an endearing quality. but i’m afraid my composure is thinning out.
“then-“
you hold my face in between your fingers and i’m weak to your touch. to the weight of your gaze. i can’t escape it. i don’t want to.
look at me. heavens, look at you.
you rebel against every reason screaming at you not to risk your throat. not for me. but you do. over and over again. no hesitation or second thought in sight.
like you were created to do so.
why? why don’t you give up on me, lucifer?
“alastor, i’m upset because you believe you’re the reason why i almost got myself killed.”