Chapter Text
Alastor had initially assumed Valentino was the cause of Vincent’s recent incompetence and idiocy.
There had been simply no other reasonable explanation for it unless Vincent secretly had a lobotomy behind alastor's back. Alastor wouldn't be surprised if that had happened.
For nearly a month, Vincent had behaved like an absentminded man that bordered on what alastor could deem as suicidal. The media man forgot details that normally came to the him, He left conversations unfinished whenever they're talking to an important target and worst of all, became distracted at the worst possible moments.
Twice, he had nearly drawn attention toward them during encounters with the detective that are stubbornly pursuing their trail through Louisiana.
It was sloppy. Vincent was many things, (Vain. Petty. PRETENTIOUS) but being careless had never been one of them.
And Alastor despised unpredictability.
The irritation had started subtly, settling beneath his skin like an itch impossible to scratch. Alastor loathe itching his skin as it reminded him of those humid Louisiana nights in the 1900s, when he would sit awake in silence and in simmering anger- listening to the heavy footsteps of his father pacing through the house and watching his beloved mother tense beside the stove.
Little ol' alastor stared at the wall, thinking. Thinking… and thinking, with his fists clenched as he thought about what his unpredictable father would do.
Irritation had always been dangerous for alastor who pride himself as a man who is always In control and each mistake Vincent made only deepened it further until Alastor found himself watching the man with growing scrutiny.
Because Vincent was his.
Alastor could not stomach the idea of another person interfering with something he had spent years shaping with meticulous care.
The Vincent that he allowed to stay in his side is carefully crafted, Refined and Improved from the pathetic desperate man that he once was and it was all thanks to alastor.
Alastor had spent years shaping Vincent into the ideal companion for his endeavors. Goodness, that Ill mannered man had once been impulsive and difficult to direct. Now he was polished and elegant when necessary and finally, useful at all times!
Or at least, that had been the anticipated outcome.
Vincent could not simply be discarded by Alastor as his usefulness had developed into something more complex than what alastor would normally say, a puppet.
Vincent entertained and amused him enough that Alastor occasionally sought out his company even when there was no business to discuss. Vincent is... His.
So that’s why Alastor found this sudden change in Vincent’s behavior to be intolerable.
Someone was interfering with Vincent's attention and disrupting the careful balance Alastor maintained in their silly little relationship.
Naturally, Valentino became the obvious suspect.
The man had always been a temporary indulgence Alastor permitted because he served a purpose. Valentino possessed valuable connections with enough vanity to remain predictable so allowing Vincent to occasionally entertain him kept certain doors open.
Though Alastor had every intention of eventually disposing of the man once his usefulness expired. Still, Valentino’s influence had always remained superficial.
Or so he had believed. The possibility that Valentino had somehow managed to affect Vincent beyond casual distraction ignited an ugly possessiveness Alastor rarely allowed himself to indulge in openly.
Vincent was not supposed to be swayed by others, not enough to jeopardize their work.
Yet when Alastor sought Valentino out, expecting confirmation of his suspicions, he instead discovered something entirely unexpected.
His.. husband had not been visiting Valentino at all.
Alastor encountered a variable he had not anticipated.
Unknowns irritated him deeply and unknowns implied loss of control.
From that point onward, his observations sharpened.
He began noticing details previously dismissed as meaningless such as Vincent returning home later than usual. Diner receipts carelessly abandoned in pockets before quickly disappearing once Vincent realized Alastor had seen them and most suspicious of all was Vincent’s behavior whenever Alastor’s attention lingered too long on him. The man would suddenly become lost.
Vincent had never been particularly skilled at hiding things from him.
But either way, the long awaited admission eventually led him to the diner.
A small establishment tucked between older buildings near the quieter district of the city that most people overlooked entirely.
Vincent was no stranger to places like this.
In fact, Alastor had noticed a pattern early on. The man preferred diners that felt forgotten. Vincent disliked maintaining the pleasant facade Alastor had taught him.
Vincent has a rotten personality after all.
Now, alastor rarely entered places so painfully ordinary.
The diner smelled overwhelmingly of butter, coffee grounds and lingering cigarette smoke embedded into decades-old walls. The workers moved behind the counter with ease while jazz crackled softly from an old radio near the kitchen. The television on the shelf was turned off.
Everything about the place felt domestic.
Alastor hadn’t been in a diner like this since his mother was fired due to a worker that had been harassing her. The management decided it was easier to let her go than deal with it. He still remembered going home that night and listening to her cry when she thought he couldn’t hear behind the closed door. He wished he could have ended the lives of everyone that was in there but alas, he was still a young boy at that time.
He shook his head. For some reason, his late mother had been haunting his memories for quite some time now.
Nevertheless, Alastor hated how out of place he felt sitting there. Yet he remained, waiting for the presence of the man who had made his husband incompetent..
He patiently observed, fingers resting neatly against the newspaper while his sharp gaze tracked every movement around him.
At 12:34, The man will come to eat his lunch.
the bell above the entrance chimed.
His gaze pinned the man in place without permission and without mercy for the things he would soon do later on.
Alastor noticed the pale cheeks first as it was seemingly touched faintly with color. Wide, doe-like blue eyes lifting in startled attention to the waitress that waved at him. Soft blonde curls fell carelessly across his forehead, not combed. Disorder in appearance often meant disorder elsewhere.
A man was expected to keep himself sharp. hair slicked back neat, shoes polished and posture straight enough to look respectable even when startled.
This man, interestingly, is not one of those.
The curls made him look younger than he likely was. The man reminds Alastor of those golden-faced boys smiling from cigarette advertisements or church pamphlets passed around during Sunday mass.
His lips were slightly parted and unguarded, showing off the vulnerable pink flash of tongue. It would be easy to rip off that pink appendage if alastor bit hard enough. Oh how startled the sound would be. How warm.
Alastor swallowed.
Slender figure, waist impossibly narrow, shoulders delicate enough that he could imagine lifting Lucien like a porcelain doll.
Oh.
Ah.
Thinking about it now, Alastor had once owned a doll when he was a kid.
Not many children in New Orleans could afford proper toys in those years. especially colored children living off careful budgeting and long work hours. Colored boys his age were often able to play with toy soldiers (made from tin, with the paint chipped off), wooden spinning tops, marbles that were kept in their coat pocket, or share toy trains with other boys until the wheels broke off the toy train. Often times boys would carry slingshots in their back pockets and chase stray cats down alleys to pass time.
Alastor never cared much for those things, admittedly.
His mother noticed it early because while other children fought over wind-up toys in shop windows or begged for penny candies, Alastor spent his time crouched beside insects in the garden, quietly holding injured birds in both hands, or carefully brushing mud off the fur of stray animals that wandered too close to their home.
Delicate things fascinated him.
Fragile things even more.
There had been a dog once. A loud brute from the neighboring yard that barked day and night through the thin walls of their home. The sound irritated him terribly. His mother only sighed about it while knitting him a sweater.
She was completely unaware about why one afternoon- the barking had suddenly stopped after Alastor offered to “play” with it outside.
She never asked questions afterward.
Perhaps the poor yet smart woman did not want answers because a mother could only accept what his son is.
Instead, she saved what little money she could. A few coins hidden away from grocery expenses and sewing work until she finally brought home a doll from a secondhand market downtown.
It had porcelain skin with tiny painted lashes around its blue eyes. Soft blond curls framed its face beneath a little lace bonnet that had begun yellowing with age. The dress was faded cream, repaired carefully at the sleeves by whoever owned it before him. It was not expensive. The porcelain already carried a thin crack near the neck.
But his mother had smiled while handing it to him.
“You ought to have something nice too, cher. Who said your ma can't give you the world?”
That was what she had said.
Alastor remembered the warmth in her voice more than the doll itself. He remembered how small her hands looked after hours of work. How tired her brown eyes were. So unlike the doll in her calloused hands.
So he took the doll carefully.
And unlike the toys owned by other boys, he never broke, dirtied and threw it around carelessly. He brushed its curls smooth with his fingers and sat it upright beside him during thunderstorms while the radio hissed softly in the background. Sometimes he would stare at its face for long stretches of time, fascinated by how lifelike it looked under the dim lighting, with its mouth parted just enough to resemble breathing. He liked putting his thumb in and pretending to rub the doll's tongue.
The doll was his darling guardian angel.
Then one day, the doll disappeared.
He searched the house quietly while his mother cooked supper. Under the bed. Inside cabinets and beneath the loose floorboards. The doll was nowhere to be seen. Someone had likely stolen it or thrown it out while cleaning. Perhaps it had broken somewhere and been discarded before he could see it ruined.
Alastor remembered feeling strangely empty and dissatisfied afterward.
But now.. Years later, standing in the low amber light of the diner, Alastor stared at the blond man standing in the distance. Soft curls over his forehead. Pale skin untouched by sunlight. Blue eyes hidden behind lowered lids.
Slowly, a sharp smile spread across Alastor’s face.
“Lucifer! Your usual order?” The waitress called over the counter, her voice cutting through the diner noise as plates clattered and the coffee machine hissed. This.. Lucifer sat at the counter, posture slightly stiff with blue eyes moving too quickly across the room. His fingers tapped once against the counter, stopped, then started again in a slower rhythm. When the waitress spoke again, he reacted quickly. “Mm yeah! And uhm a sweet coffee too please!”
He nodded slightly afterward then looked away toward the empty stool beside him.
“Alright Lucifer, go sit!”
Lucifer… Lucifer.
It seemed he had finally found his angelic doll again- only now, he had become the devil.
Alastor stood up and left without another word, his smile never wavering. After all, he had a broadcast to make, and he was pleased that Vincent’s little mishap had proven to be a blessing in disguise.
Vincent is forgiven.
THE SOCIETY: GOLDEN HEIR FOUND DEAD.
Well here we go again, another dead body just dropped in the city folks!
A young man and goodness, he was the heir to one of the old rich New Orleans families. Old money and older than the paper that the wall is made out of in St. Louis Cathedral. The poor boy was the most well-mannered boy you ever did see. He was found lying dead on the floor of his study, located on his rug, at just after 12:00 a.m.. With the radio blaring away.
Talks says he earned the ire of these good for nothing night killers..
be careful, dear. These killers are far too wicked for the devil himself. Why, I reckon they’d devour even the devil if given the chance.
Now then! No sense drowning ourselves in dreadful little tragedies.
I passed by the zoo this afternoon and nearly laughed myself sick. Some fool spread the word that apples are a deer’s favorite snack, and so, suddenly every child in Louisiana had arrived carrying apples in both hands like tiny offerings at Sunday mass.
Alastor stood inside the public telephone booth and closed the glass door behind him. He did not rush. He inserted the coins with gloved hands and dialed the number from memory. He waited with the receiver held close, eyes fixed forward through the smudged glass as the line connected and his vincent answered after a short delay.
Alastor asked Vincent about Lucifer and it didn't take too long for Vincent to open his mouth.
The conversation remained carefully phrased from beginning to end as both men were fully aware that somebody managing the lines could potentially be listening in. Vincent wasn't openly admitting about keeping tabs on Lucien Magne, instead speaking about him under the guise of an old acquaintance Alastor supposedly intended to visit.
Vincent appeared understandably enthusiastic upon realizing Alastor had taken interest in Lucifer as well, though Alastor already knew the man’s habits. Vincent knew many things regarding Lucien, but cowardice kept him from learning too much or involving himself deeper than necessary so alastor will take it upon himself to know Lucifer deeply
For now, through their cautious exchange, Vincent provided what information he currently had.
Lucifer- Lucien Magne was twenty-five years old and recently graduated, now employed as an assistant to a local factory executive in Louisiana though Lucifer himself did not actually live within the city.
Instead, he stayed farther out near the wooded outskirts beyond where isolated homes sat separated by dirt roads, marshland, and stretches of trees. It was not exactly hidden, nor secretive enough to raise suspicion, but distant enough that most people rarely bothered going there unless specifically invited by Lucifer himself.
Strange. The blonde had every reason to remain inside the city. He have a respectable occupation, steady income and convenient access to work, Yet instead of settling into one of the cleaner districts near the factory offices, he chose isolation.
Why there?
Privacy?
Solitude?
Alastor almost smiled faintly at the possibility. That would certainly make him more interesting.
Is the man not afraid of demons like alastor?
Vincent continued speaking after that, moving onto Lucifer’s workplace, his position under the factory executive, the people he worked beside and the names of coworkers, schedules, lunch habits, office gossip and such small details that Vincent clearly believed were important but alastor cared very little for any of it.
The information passed through one ear and nearly out the other while his attention remained fixed elsewhere entirely.
On Lucifer.
Alastor wanted the version hidden away in the small little house of his.
What did Lucifer do after returning home each evening? Did he remove his shoes at the front door immediately or wander distracted through the house still dressed from work? Did he cook properly for himself or survive off cheap meals and coffee? Did he leave books scattered around tables? Fall asleep on the couch?
Forget to lock doors because he believed nobody would bother traveling that far out to visit him?
Was he lonely?
Far from neighbors. Far from attention. Far from help.
A workplace was public but a home was intimate.
Alastor lowered his gaze slightly, expression unreadable while Vincent kept rambling through the line.
the devil unknowingly invited the monster into his hell.
Lucifer finally departed for his home approximately 11:00 PM after a long day in the city.
His residence is an unassuming home perched above the forest where it borders the jagged dirt roads leading from the city.
Lucifer parked without noticing anything unusual, the foolish doll did not see the second car.
It was positioned a short distance away and near another house along the road. far enough to avoid drawing attention. The engine was off. The lights were off and Nothing about it suggested the presence of alastor at all.
But Inside, Alastor sat perfectly still. He had arrived earlier, long before Lucifer returned.
He did not move much. He occasionally just adjusts his posture now and then while watching the house through the windshield.
When Lucifer finally stepped out of his car, Alastor did not follow immediately. He watches as Lucifer unlocked his door and entered.
The light flickered briefly on the lower floor. A shadow passed across a wall.
Alastor remained where he was, his fingers rested loosely against the steering wheel. He did not need to be close to see him anymore because he already knew the shape of the house and the timing of the lights.
A simple life that is such a predictable one.
It was 1:30 a.m. when Alastor finally shifted his position outside the house.
The night had not changed much. The trees remained still. The road remained empty. The house continued to sit quietly in its isolation. From his car, Alastor adjusted his view just enough to see through a lower window. Lucifer was inside, he stood in the kitchen, partially lit by a single warm lamp. His movements were unhurried as he reached for a glass, and poured himself a drink. He drank slowly.
Alastor watched without blinking.
What is Lucifer drinking?
Water was the simplest answer. It's plain and unremarkable.
But Alastor didn’t settle on that too quickly.
Tea, then? A warm tea. People who lived alone in quiet houses often favored it without much thought, especially at night as it's easy to prepare and easy to forget
Or perhaps something stronger. A diluted drink? Something poured casually after work to settle the mind before bed. His vincent often carries that habit.
Alastor tilted his head slightly inside the car, still watching. Guessing nearly everything about his target was Alastor’s favorite thing to do. He loved predicting almost as much as he loved watching his target.
He considered milk next, then dismissed it almost immediately. That would be too juvenile.
Juice was unlikely at this hour unless Lucifer had poor timing with groceries. Maybe Lucifer do have poor timing with groceries. Poor him.
The glass lowered. Lucifer set it down, wiped his hand once against the counter, and remained still for a brief second as if deciding what to do next (Alastor fondly thinks it's silly) Then he moved out of sight. The light on the lower floor stayed on for a while longer after he disappeared, then dimmed slightly.
Alastor did not move from the car.
It was 2 a.m. when Alastor finally decided the waiting had lasted long enough.
He moved from the car unhurriedly, circling the house once before finding the open window downstairs. It was slightly ajar, left that way without care or thought and so he easily slipped inside without noise.
Alastor immediately saw a black cat sat in the hallway, watching him, causing Alastor to pause briefly to meet its gaze. Pleased that the cat didn't do anything, alastor continued on. Most animals reacted incorrectly in his presence. Dogs, especially.
Now, the house itself immediately told him everything he needed to know about its occupant. The house was messy. There were objects lying around where they were last used and all was covered in dirt.
Clearly, Lucifer is too comfortable in isolation to maintain presentation for others.
His expression tightened faintly at the sight. His mother would have been appalled.
He moved into the kitchen first.
A half-eaten apple sat on the counter, looking untouched for quite some time. Alastor picked it up without hesitation and took a bite, chewing slowly as he looked around the room. Everything was placed carefully enough to suggest that Lucifer at least had the dignity left to maintain order, but not enough to suggest company. There was only one set of dishes and one cup.
His eyes drifted then landed on a cross mounted nearby.
He stopped. A religious symbol is placed without much attention. It was small and mounted slightly off-center on the wall near a shelf. Humming a tune, Alastor tilted his head slightly, studying it.
A religious man.
Alastor's father had been deeply religious. Everything in the house In his childhood days had been measured against his beliefs. The speech, behavior and silence. Anything that strayed from it was treated as wrong and corrected quickly.
His mother never fit into it.
She believed differently to different saints and different practices, the things his father dismissed outright. He never tolerated it and thus, arguments followed then punishment.
His father called it, beating the devil out of her.
Alastor stepped closer and examined it for a moment longer before reaching out calmly. He turned the cross upside down. Alastor did not feel guilty. He was merely correcting something that had been placed incorrectly in a room that already belonged to Alastor the moment he stepped into the house.
Throwing the apple into a nearby trash can, Alastor stepped further into the house and made his way upstairs. Listening to the floorboards creaking softly under his weight. The bedroom door was already unlocked. Alastor paused for a fraction of a second then he pushed it open without hesitation. Unlocked. It was amusing to the murderer. Is Lucifer suicidal, perhaps?
He stepped into the room and he did not go directly to the bed. Instead, he tested the space first. A light knock against the wall near the doorway meant to break sleep gently rather than startle the poor doll of his. (Alastor could always knock Lucifer out cold if he wakes up)
The doll gave nothing.
Alastor waited a moment longer, then moved further inside. As he passed a small surface near the wall, his hand brushed against an object and knocked it over. It fell with a dull sound onto the floor.
The doll still gave nothing.
Alastor stopped again.
Ah.
A heavy sleeper then.
That could explain the lack of response.
He stood there for a moment longer, listening to the sleeping figure he had not yet fully approached. The poor doll was completely unguarded.
His smile turned sharper and he could almost hear his mother singing to him and his doll back in his childhood. Remembering the past made the present feel close enough to overlap and the voice of his mother carried to his ears.
Sleep, sleep, little one
If you do not sleep
The Ḑ̶̨̢̜̙̞̗̰̖̩̙̆̽̽́̅̐̄́͆̚͠͠͝e̷̲̥̘͖͓̼̻̠̋̃̀͂̽̈́͒͗̇̊͌͝͝ĕ̸̡̢̢̡̺̪͕͔̖̲̖̗̫̳̉̽̅̿̀̄ŗ̶̼͖̬̤͕̥̬̽̒ is going to eat you.
Alastor sat on the bed's edge and craned his head down, his gaze running over Lucifer's body. The man wore a nightgown designed for women, completely inappropriate for him but its delicate lace trim allowed too much of the smooth, pale skin to be seen. Truly a strange funny man Lucifer is. Besides that, Lucifer's blond hair hung over his face like spun gold. framing a face so incredibly beautiful it would make men weep. Exaggeratedly as it is.
Alastor spent some time processing his current emotion. There was a desire to break into every piece of that perfect flesh in order to see the blood he could gain from the beautiful, porcelain-skinned doll.
Alastor had never wanted anything, or anyone, more than he wanted Lucifer, nor had he ever had a desire so violently strong for something.
Using his strength, Alastor was able to easily raise and position Lucifer's legs without him waking. Alastor's finger slid down one of Lucifer's calves, fascinated with how delicate the veins beneath were.
Alastor shifted Lucifer's limbs like a doll whose joints had been twisted. He thought of how quickly and easily he would break them. He then bent forward, pressing his lips against the smooth skin of Lucifer's leg that showed because of the robe slipping slightly open.
He imagined waking Lucifer with a sharp pinch to those delicate thighs, watching those blue eyes fly open with.. fear is it?
He gently draped Lucifer's lower body over his shoulder and continued gazing upon Lucifer, and with both hands on either side of Lucifer's head. He watched for just a moment to see if there were any other signs of life around (other than the sound of Lucifer's breathing).
Normally, if Lucifer wasn't worth his time, Alastor would have already gone for the neck, then down to the chest, and especially down to the meat of his thighs.
Alastor licks his lips, savoring the thought of tearing into that tender muscle.
Now, alastor did not take his “kill” in any manner that could be described as hurried or mundane. It was not merely the end of a life, but the closing act of a broadcast segment.
He always used his mother's favorite cast-iron skillet for his special recipes regarding the special victims. He believed the right thigh tissue yielded superior flavor. The meat from that specific portion consistently proved more tender, marbled with just enough fat to melt on his tongue. He'd carefully portion each victim, saving the right thigh for his private midnight feasts.
Lucifer will be no doubt that tastiest.
But sadly, alastor will and never plan to do anything that will permanently end his doll.
Alastor watched as Lucifer's facial expression began to change. His forehead began to wrinkle. Only then did Alastor shift. After giving incredibly deliberate and careful thought as to how to reposition Lucifer's legs back on to the bed, and do so without making a sound- He carefully positioned Lucifer's legs back to its original place.
Alastor stood up and went back outside to his car, stealing a small wooden toy from beside the lamp as a keepsake.
Alastor continued visiting the dollhouse.
Vincent had been furious during the first few visits late at night. The poor man already looked worn thin from clawing desperately toward the entertainment industry and might alastor suspect- surviving off little sleep and cheap cigarettes while forcing himself through endless meetings.
The stress of clawing his way through the top of the wretched entertainment industry had sharpened every paranoid instinct Vincent had left. Poor, Poor Vincent.
Vincent questioned him repeatedly, clearly disturbed by the amount of attention Alastor paid to a target despite supposedly barely knowing the target. At one point, the man had nearly knelt down until Alastor fondly mentioned Lucifer by name, His habits, The way he organized things.
The routines he followed unconsciously with small details Vincent recognized instantly.
Vincent calmed down, relieved that it wasn't a target and it's only "Lucifer". He admitted that he regrettably became too busy to visit their doll. His career obsession consumed nearly every hour of his life now as the ambitious man chased every opportunity.
Alastor coaxed Vincent that he'll find a way soon for Lucifer to be in their life because in the end, he loves Vincent.. but alastor have never been in love so he doesn't know.
Back to Lucifer, the beautiful doll never knew Alastor was there every night. The doll house had slowly become familiar territory to Alastor. He memorized the layout quickly. Which windows Lucifer forgot to lock properly and which doors stuck slightly when opened too fast.
He learned Lucifer’s schedule too. When he slept, when he showered and when he do his work.
Alastor observed quietly from the edges of rooms because truly, Alastor wasn't afraid of getting caught at all. The thrill of watching Lucifer inside his own house made the thrill in Alastor's veins hum.
Sometimes he simply sat in silence inside a cramp table watching the unaware Lucifer move around the house. He wandered around in oversized clothing during the weekends, his pink sleeves slipping past his hands while he carried cups of tea from room to room.
He hummed absentmindedly and sometimes he spoke softly to himself beneath his breath.
And sometimes he cried.
Alastor covered his small little grunts of pleasure with the palm of his hand whenever that happened.
Alastor also noticed something else during one of his later visits.
Lucifer was in the kitchen like usual, with a glass in hand, drinking slowly. Alastor watched from a distance. The glass was clear so it was indeed water Lucifer had been drinking every night.
But something about the strange absentminded behavior caught his attention so Alastor's eyes shifted toward the counter. He saw a small pillbox sat nearby. When Lucifer left the kitchen and went upstairs. Alastor approached it without urgency, picked it up, and examined it quietly.
The container was partially open and Inside were labeled sleeping pills. It had explained why Lucifer was such a deep sleeper.
Though alastor also knows something. Lucifer always woke up at six in the morning everyday. Then he would get up, get ready, and leave the house. Always on foot. The blonde apparently disliked taking the trains.
With the acquired knowledge of the sleeping pills and Lucifer's body clock, Alastor's boldness escalated. Exploiting the passive state of Lucifer gives Alastor a warped sense of gratification.
When the doll was asleep, Alastor would quietly move into bed beside him. Alastor would deliberately run his fingers along Lucifer's bare thighs before wrapping the supple flesh of Lucifer's thighs around his waist.
Sometimes, he would pin Lucifer’s wrists to the bed as he hovered above him, his eyes fixed on Lucifer with quiet devotion.
Oftentimes, his pelvis would press flush against Lucifer's rear, while he breathed heavily onto the back of Lucifer's neck. One particularly daring night he couldn't resist the urge to bite him on the neck, causing some blood to trickle down. After feeling Lucifer start to wake up, Alastor didn't hesitate and struck the back of his head with accuracy, sending him back into dreamless sleep. For the remainder of the night, Alastor remained frozen in place, his lips brushing against Lucifer's ear as he whispered a litany of sickeningly sweet apologies.
At present, He had not stayed at Lucifer's house this specific day.
Alastor was driving through the quiet morning streets. The clock on the dashboard read 6:57 AM. The cold air slipped through the slight crack in the window while his fingers tapped lazily against the steering wheel. He was in a pleasant mood since Vincent had kissed his cheek before he left earlier..
His lips twitched faintly. From between the two, it was Vincent that was ecstatic about alastor's plan in motion.
He hummed under his breath while driving, one hand resting loosely on the wheel since the streets were mostly empty at this hour.
Then movement caught his eye, The front door opened and his Lucifer stepped outside with a suitcase in hand.
Ofcourse the two locked eyes immediately.
Lucifer froze near the edge of the road. His expression shifted fast from confusion to realization, shoulders stiffening. Meanwhile, Alastor slowly widened his own eyes in exaggerated shock, lips parting theatrically. "Oh dear." he muttered flatly despite the grin threatening to form as he pressed harder on the gas.
Naturally the impact came hard.
The blonde was thrown onto the hood before rolling violently onto the road with the suitcase skidding away across the pavement which made Alastor wince.
He..did not meant to hit him that hard.
His car jerked slightly before he finally hit the brakes farther down the street.
He could hear the blonde softly crying outside.
Alastor exhaled through his nose and casually parked the car at the roadside. He stepped out without hurry, fixing his coat before walking back toward Lucifer who was curled slightly on the pavement, one arm wrapped around himself while small broken sounds escaped him. Those soft cries slowly became louder the more the pain settled in.
Alastor crouched beside him.
“I-I’m sorry-oh goodness, I deeply apologize. Are you hurt?”
Alastor did his absolute best to force a frown onto his face, carefully lacing his voice with panic and concern. though instead of looking at the blonde’s beautifully flushed face that is twisted in pain and fury, his eyes settled neatly on the expensive trousers instead because alastor is rather afraid he'll accidentally reveal his.. excitement if caught a glimpse.
“What- what the fuck is wrong with you!?” Lucifer screamed, his voice sharp and strained.
Alastor blinked, momentarily taken aback by the outburst.
Such an uncouth mouth. Exactly like Vincent.
Even curled on the pavement with tears gathering in his bright blue eyes and his breathing uneven from pain, Lucifer still somehow found the energy to yell profanity directly into Alastor’s face. The radio host stared at him for a second longer before his expression softened again into feign concern.
“Yes, understandable reaction, my good man.” Alastor replied smoothly, already reaching forward to help his vulnerable little doll off the pavement. Internally, he was delighted.
Anger suited the blonde far too well. His flushed face, watery eyes and shaking breaths made Alastor physically stop himself from smiling too widely.
“Who in their right mind is- would- hah-” Lucifer sucked in a sharp breath mid sentence, the pain cutting him off. One trembling hand grabbed at Alastor’s sleeve for balance before immediately shoving him away again much to Alastor's disappointment. “I know you saw me, you son of a bitch! You fucking hit me!”
Alastor placed a hand over his chest.
“that is terribly rude, please do treat me with consideration-”
“Fuck you!” Lucifer howled, his hand clutched at his side while he bit down hard on his lower lip hard enough to leave it swollen and red.
Alastor’s eyes flicked downward for half a second. Such a dangerous distraction for the monster within him.
“I did not ‘hit’ you,” Alastor corrected calmly, offering his hand again. “You stepped into the road. I simply did not have adequate time to adjust my vehicle.”
“bullshit! That is a lie, I saw you. I saw you!” Lucifer snapped immediately. “You were coming straight at me. You hit me. On purpose or not, you hit me!”
Alastor tilted his head slightly, considering the accusation with great seriousness because yes, He had known exactly where Lucifer would step and he had chosen the timing for their perfect first proper meeting.
Out loud, Alastor sighed softly. “That is a rather dramatic interpretation of events. You stepped forward. I was already in motion. The rest is simply consequence, my good man, it is not the intention.” He glanced at Lucifer briefly before continuing. “But if it will ease your mind, I can accept that you are… shaken. That would be reasonable.” There was a faint smile. “Accusing me of malice, however, is not."
“You’re not walking away from this!!” Lucifer tried to push himself up again, failed, and let out a sharp breath through his teeth. “You lunatic, I'll call the police and report you!”
“That word is thrown around too easily these days,” Alastor said, finally taking hold of Lucifer’s arm before he could protest again. “In fact, I would advise you to be more cautious with it.” His grip was firm as he helped guide him into a seated position. “Hold still. You are making this more difficult than it needs to be.”
Lucifer jerked slightly at the contact. “Don’t touch me.”
“I’m already touching you.”
“Then don’t touch me!” Lucifer cried out, clutching his leg tighter as a sharp wave of pain forced his voice to crack.
Alastor’s eyes immediately dropped to the injury. The angle was wrong. The leg was not sitting properly. Likely fractured or dislocated. Lucifer would not be walking on that anytime soon. “I can drive you into the hospital,” Alastor said smoothly, already shifting closer. “I have money, I have a vehicle-”
Lucifer sucked in a breath and shot him a furious glare. “No. No thank you. Go away. I don’t need your money! Take this as a lesson-don’t drive around like that, you- you drunkard.”
Alastor blinked once. He did not drink but correcting him seemed pointless.
“Ah,” Alastor tried again, voice still calm, “I can still help you-”
“Go away!!”
The shout echoed down the street.
Alastor did not react to it. He simply turned mid-conversation, walked to the scattered luggage, and picked it up as if the argument had not happened at all. Papers, clothes, and small belongings were gathered quickly and neatly. Seeing this, Lucifer tried to shift again, immediately stopping with a hiss when pain shot through his leg.
Alastor returned and without warning, he naturally slid one arm under Lucifer’s shoulders and the other beneath his legs then lifted him off the ground. He felt Lucifer froze for half a second, then snapped to life.
“Put me down!”
“No.” Alastor replied simply.
Lucifer grabbed at his coat, the doll tense and panicked. “Don’t- don’t touch me like that!”
Alastor adjusted his grip, hiding his smile. “Where is your house?”
Lucifer stiffened in his arms and the faint scent of apples and honey lingered closer. It was distracting.
“What the hell!?” Lucifer snapped again, voice strained. “Don’t touch me!”
“I am helping you, please good sir,” Alastor said calmly, already walking to the house he knew far too well. Lucifer struggled in his arms, Eventually, the fight in his body weakened into short, uneven breaths.
Alastor stopped at the front steps. “This one?”
Lucifer had begun to breathe heavily. His jaw was tight. He obviously doesn't trust Alastor and he barely looked at the man. Though, he eventually nodded his head yes. Ecstatic, Alastor lifted the man and carried him back into the steps. Once the blonde was within a few feet of the entrance, he was placed down and Alastor prepared to support him if he fell.
Lucifer leaned against the door, gripping it for support as silence settled between them.
“I’m deeply sorry,” Alastor said again, his tone soft. “I can still take you to the hospital. I can arrange it quickly if you would just let me-"
Lucifer stared at him then, without another word, he grabbed the suitcase from Alastor's hands, pulled it inside, and slammed the door shut.
The lock clicked.
Alastor stood still on the porch.
“…Unfortunate Timing..” he murmured to himself. adjusting his gloves slowly.
His car waited down the road and he had a broadcast to attend, he'll be back to check his beloved doll later.
During that evening, he held Lucifer close with one arm wrapped tightly around him. Being careful of the injury he had caused. With his free hand, he gently wiped away the dried tear streaks on Lucifer’s cheek using his thumb. He repeated the motion to erase every trace of distress before kissing Lucifer's forehead.
The sleeping Lucifer remained stiff in his hold, His broken leg was secured in a plaster cast. It seemed that someone else had brought Lucifer in after he left and had made sure he reached treatment.
His hold on Lucifer tightened possessively.
"Hello."
“hello yourself.”
Lucifer growled under his breath, tightening his grip around his cane as Alastor stood perfectly still on the porch, his usual pleasant smile already in place.
“what are you doing here.” Lucifer’s expression twisted with irritation. He slightly shoved Alastor backward with the end of his cane before stepping out of the house.
“I merely wished to apologize properly.” alastor lowered his tone, watching lucifer froze. A flicker of fear crossed his eyes before he quickly looked outside, checking the empty street behind Alastor. Without another word, he shoved him back once more, then slammed the door shut and locked it.
“I was deeply sorry that I hit you.”
“Go away.”
Alastor did not listen.
“I apologize.”
“You already said that.”
“And I shall continue saying it until you believe me.”
By the time Lucifer began limping toward the station, Alastor had already fallen into step beside him, matching his slower pace with ease.
“So, I want to make it up to you somehow,” Alastor continued softly. “Please. At least let me accompany you to the train station.”
Lucifer said nothing for the rest of the walk. His jaw stayed tense while his hand clenched tightly around the cane with alastor quietly accompanying him the entire way.
That night, Alastor turned on the radio, letting the static fill the bedroom so that when Lucifer woke up, Alastor’s morning broadcast recorded yesterday night would already be tuned in.
Alastor stood outside the station gate, perfectly still in the early morning haze. The iron framework of the train station loomed behind him with steam and distant whistles rolling through the air.
He was smiling pleasantly.
He didn't appear in Lucifer's house this time as he didn't want to scare Lucifer more than the poor doll already is.
Lucifer spotted him immediately which brought alastor glee.
“...You again.”
Alastor turned at the sound of his voice. “Good morning.”
Lucifer limped closer, cane tapping sharply against the platform stones. His cast made every step uneven. The sight was humourous.
“i don't like this.” Lucifer muttered. “It’s starting to feel intentional.”
Alastor’s head tilted slightly. Pretending that his eyes hadn't widened momentarily at the observation. “Oh goodness, Are you accusing me?"
Lucifer shot him a look. “silence.”
Alastor stepped aside with practiced ease, falling into step beside him.
“You’re headed to the station,” Alastor said lightly. “So am I and I wished to accompany the man that I had done wrong.”
Lucifer scoffed. “No, you’re following me to the station.”
“A matter of interpretation, my dear”
They began walking.
For a few seconds, only the sound of Lucifer’s cane and distant train engines filled the air. Then Alastor spoke again.
“I should properly introduce myself.”
Lucifer didn’t look at him.
“I am Alastor de Canay.” he said proudly, voice carrying easily despite the street noise. “You might have heard me from my radio broadcast."
"No, never heard of you."
Alastor pressed his lips in a thin line.
The radio was silent that night until the morning.
Alastor waited at the station to see Lucifer for five days in a row, and he didn't care if he irritated the blonde man with this ongoing habit of his.
Everyone who knows him knows that Vincent is far more patient than Alastor ever was.
with each passing day that Lucifer won't speak to him, new bruises bloomed along Lucifer’s thighs.
Does Lucifer suspect it? Who knows!
Once again, Alastor stood by the station with a newspaper in hand. The moment he spotted Lucifer approaching, he folded the paper neatly under his arm and fell into step beside him.
“Morning, dear boy,” Alastor greeted smoothly, folding the newspaper beneath his arm.
“Dreadful business in the entertainment world, you hear? They say there was another studio executive found dead.. quietly.." He let out a soft, amused hum. "The papers are careful with their wording, but one can read between the lines if one pays attention."
Lucifer scoffed, finally breaking his silence. He spoke, and Alastor’s grin widened at the lovely sound only to subtly falter as he listened.
“The detective is blind. Who is it again? That big shot detective? Adam Genesis?” Lucifer said flatly. “He’s looking everywhere except where it matters. Idiot. Even I could see that the killer’s inside the company. one of the broadcast staff and let me tell you, jealousy’s the simplest answer for the motive. Preferably someone who didn’t get the position they wanted.” Lucifer huffed a breath. "I'm this close to tip that smug bastard off."
Alastor’s pace slowed for a fraction of a step before he recovered, folding his newspaper a touch more neatly under his arm.
"You know him?"
"Family friend. Don't know him that much nor remember him that well."
"Hm."
Alastor went home that night and warned his confused husband to behave for the time being. Vincent followed him like a stray puppy.
Alastor was waiting before Lucifer even properly came into view of the station path.
He did not shift. He simply stood where he was as usual. The morning light caught on his brown coat in thin, pale streaks and in his hand was a warm paper cup.
When Lucifer finally appeared, limping heavily with his cane, Alastor’s smile subtly sharpened and he stepped forward at just the right moment.
“Good morning, my good man.”
Lucifer slowed when he saw the cup, but Alastor didn’t acknowledge that reaction. He simply extended it with a smooth, unhurried motion. “I thought you might appreciate this and perhaps finally forgive me.” he added lightly as lucifer took it.
Then he watched the blonde man took a hesitant sip..
“…This is disgusting.”
The words didn’t seem to offend him. If anything, they registered as something for alastor to keep in mind.
“Disgusting?” Alastor repeated softly as he walked beside Lucifer, matching the uneven pace without needing adjustment. He listened to lucifer complaining about the bitterness. "Ah.” he murmured at last to himself. “Too strong, then.”
His doll has a sweet tooth.
"Of course,” Lucifer muttered under his breath. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Contrary to the past days, Alastor was not waiting at the train station in the morning. Tonight, it was different. he stood beneath the dim station lights with a suitcase in hand.
“You are following me." Lucifer said flatly. He limped slightly as he approached, irritation sharp in his voice. He even spat at Alastor’s direction, earning only a soft, amused hum in response.
“I wish to accompany you tonight." Alastor replied smoothly, without even glancing at him properly. “my work schedule has changed. I get off at ten in the evening now. I don’t expect you to understand broadcast scheduling. It can be rather unpredictable."
Lucifer’s expression said he didn’t believe a word of it which alastor, however, offered nothing more. He simply stepped onto the train and took his seat with unhurried ease, setting his suitcase neatly beside him. He kept his expression composed, carefully hiding the faint satisfaction that crept in when Lucifer eventually followed and sat beside him.
"Can't you just take your car?"
"I wish to accompany you."
Silence settled between them as the train began to move and at some point, Lucifer’s resistance faded. His head slowly tipped until it rested against Alastor’s shoulder.
Alastor didn’t move, Brown eyes half-lidded in quiet satisfaction. He adjusted his doll slightly for a better and comfortable position.
it was Alastor who eventually decided that it was time for him to wake and this will soon be the new normal for them both for the following days.
His doll.
“Anth… atthet…”
Alastor turned in mild surprise, his eyes widening as he felt an arm slip around him. Who dares to have the audacity-
"Antlers!"
His posture stiffened at once, fingers tightening instinctively then slowly easing when a familiar scent of honey and apples along with a strange mixed of alcohol drifted into his senses.
He lowered his gaze, finding lucifer pressed against him. His cheeks were flushed red, lips agape and strands of blonde hair had fallen loose from their usual neatness, some sticking lightly to his forehead and temples due to the sweat.
Alastor blinked once then smirked. His fingers twitching momentarily.
"Oh dear… are you quite well?”
“Antlers…”
“It’s Alastor.”
He corrected him gently, though there was a faint pause afterward when Lucifer only giggled in response and let go of his suitcase carelessly, letting it drop with a dull thud. Alastor caught it without comment, adjusting his grip while shifting his other arm to support Lucifer’s weight.
"What happened?"
The blonde leaned heavily into him, limping badly now that the cane had been abandoned after his leg had begun to heal. His lucifer is stubborn whenever he wants to be.
“I got promoted and they threw me a party celebration." Lucifer slurred, leaning into Alastor who gave a small, measured nod as he adjusted his grip on the suitcase.
“Did they now?” he replied evenly. Trying hard not to bury his face on the crook of the blonde's neck.
“mm.. Alastor, let’s go there.”
He paused as his brow lifted. He glanced towards the arriving train and the people already forming a line. "The train is here, my dear." He said gently as he could but a sharp tug pulled him off course and into the shadowed corner between the platform pillars.
Startled, he looked at lucifer who leaned in so close that alastor could feel the blonde's breath.
“Kiss me.”
"Pardon?"
"What.. what's that look." His hand tightened around Alastor’s sleeve, tugging him forward with a sudden urgency that drew them closer than either of them intended. “Are you ashamed of being seen with a man?” Lucifer’s voice cracked slightly at the edge, rising louder that it drew some attention on them. “I know… I know your kind. I know that look in your eyes. You want me, don’t you? You want me.”
Although he did enjoy the sight of Lucifer like this, this was hardly the setting for it. Alastor did not understand why Lucifer suddenly became so clingy when drunk, but he could hardly think straight with the amount of attention they were gathering.
"My dear, your timing is dreadful."
“Just kiss me. I look like a woman, don’t I? They don't know.. they don't know.. Just don’t… mm…”
Lucifer didn’t finish properly. The words broke apart as he leaned in first, closing the remaining distance before Alastor could even fully respond. His lips pressed against Alastor’s who went still.
Frowning, he shifted his body to hide Lucifer while his half-lidded eyes scanned the background. by then, the attention around them had already shifted. The few nearby onlookers who had turned at Lucifer’s raised voice now looked away, annoyed and writing it off as a lovers’ quarrel between a 'female' and a man.
That was all the permission Alastor needed.
His hand slid more securely to Lucifer’s side, steadying the limping man while his other hand was raised, his fingers tangling in Lucifer's hair as he plundered the blonde's mouth shamelessly.
After days of wondering and dreaming about what Lucifer would taste like, he finally found out. Lucifer tasted unbearably sweet, no doubt because of his terrible sweet tooth. Alastor had seen him carrying candies in the pockets of his coat often.
Alastor then held Lucifer's chin with one hand, keeping it still as he sunk his sharp teeth into his bottom lip, making it both swollen and gleaming from his saliva.
"Do you share your affection to men terribly into you?" he murmured against Lucifer's lips before capturing them again, consuming the sound of his soft gasps and mumblings of protest that would otherwise have been heard by a man passing by five feet away.
Alastor could hear the departing train's whistle fading into the distance, Now leaving them on the nearly empty platform with only a few indifferent strangers scattered about, their eyes elsewhere.
"Alas, Alastor..." Lucifer murmured, his voice thick with desire and alcohol. Alastor couldn't hold back any longer.
patience wasn't his virtue.
He tugged the drunk blonde closer, his fingers deftly working to open the brown coat, exposing Lucifer's white shirt and brown trousers to the cool platform air. With a low huff, he tugged at Lucifer's trousers, pulling them down just enough to free the hardening length, but keeping them plastered around the blonde's thighs. His hands were immediately busy, one wrapping around Lucifer's waist and the other rubbing the side of Lucifer's thighs.
He measured at what he could do. On the other hand, alastor can't hold it in anymore, if he stick his cock like an uncouth man and potentially hurt the already still injured Lucifer, there would be consequences.
He narrowed his eyes measuring the situation carefully.
he wouldn't risk harming Lucifer's still-injured body with an uncouth, rough thrust to the plush ass that could cause permanent damage.
He decided on a different approach.
He pulled his own trousers free, releasing his hard length before nuzzling his head against Lucifer's soft blonde hair. "What are you doing.." Lucifer slurred, his words slurred with confusion as alastor simply chuckled, positioning his cock between Lucifer's thighs and pressing them closer together to trap his length in a warm, tight embrace.
"Close your eyes."
Alastor coaxed Lucifer closer, ensuring they were shielded by Lucifer's open coat. It fortunately made them appear merely as a pair embracing to any casual observer.
The platform remained deserted enough for his tastes, and with each careful thrust, he bit his lip to muffle his groan of pleasure.
the friction was rough and dry at first, much to his displeasure but soon his precum began to spill forth, coating Lucifer's supple white thighs until they became slick and slippery beneath his touch.
Now pleased, he increased the pace of his thrusts while maintaining their deceptive appearance.
"I knew it.."
Lucifer mumbled under his breath, resting his head on Alastor's chest and shifting his thighs together, rubbing them enough that Alastor's cock throbbed between them. Alastor was far too preoccupied to focus on what Lucifer meant. He was too focused on the immense pleasure.
His swollen tip caught against the delicate skin of Lucifer's inner thigh with each pass, sending electric shocks through Alastor's body.
Knowing that he couldn't last any longer, he quickened the movement of his hips, his fingers digging into Lucifer's hips and with one final, powerful thrust between the doll's thighs, Alastor's body seized.
thick ropes of hot cum erupted from the tip of his cock then spilled onto Lucifer's thighs and the floor beneath them. His groan was stifled only by his teeth sinking into his lower lip.
Alastor pressed a kiss to Lucifer's forehead, slightly out of breath, before he shifted his gaze to look at lucifer's still hardened cock. Taking pity, Alastor wrapped his fingers around it and gave him a very slow, deliberate stroke. He naturally used the cum coating lucifer's thighs for lubrication and ease of movement.
Over the course of those many minutes the sound of lucifer's soft moans caused alastor to lose all control.
His doll. His gift. Their Lucifer.
Back at Lucifer's home after catching the next train, Alastor treated the drunk Lucifer with meticulous care, carrying him to the bed and undressing him with deliberate gentleness. He carefully avoided the injured leg and with a soft hum, he coaxed Lucifer's pink lips apart, sliding his fingers between them to which the blonde obediently complied, his tongue swirling around the digits as they slid deeper.
Once satisfied, Alastor withdrew his fingers and lovingly slid them between Lucifer's thighs, stretching his darling doll with his saliva covered fingers. Lucifer had whimpered at the intrusion, his body yielding to Alastor's touch.
Alastor took his time stretching Lucifer's tight muscles, watching as the lovely hole gaped, relaxed and ready for him.
Rolling beside his doll, he positioned himself and easily buried his cock in the slick warmth, his face nestling into the crook of Lucifer's neck.
he began a gentle rhythm from behind. Every few moments, Alastor would stop completely, his cock buried deep inside as he paused to let Lucifer adjust.
He'd whisper occasional encouragement there and then, tilting his head and kissing Lucifer deeply.
Minutes passed or is it hours? Either way, Alastor had come undone at least three times before he finally pulled away, his breathing ragged as he carried the exhausted Lucifer into the bathroom to clean him up, though it proved to be a rather bad idea as he couldn't help himself and sat on the toilet seat with Lucifer straddling his lap.
He began bouncing the doll gently on his cock, watching it slid in and out of Lucifer with ease. each bounce made the rigid length disappear completely before reappearing slick and glistening.
Lucifer, meanwhile had his body jolted with each upward movement, his own member bouncing against Alastor's stomach, leaving wet trails of pre-cum. Just when alastor felt the need to cum again, he accidentally nudged the injured leg causing a sharp cry tore from Lucifer's throat.
"Oh, Lu, I'm sorry," Alastor murmured immediately, his voice filled with feign concern while he stopped moving and carefully cradled the blonde's face. "Forgive me, my dear. That was careless of me."
Though the accidental jolt to Lucifer's injured leg didn't deter Alastor completely, he adjusted their position, lifting the doll and setting him carefully in the filled bathtub before resuming his frantic thrusts. The new angle allowed Alastor to bury himself even deeper, his fingers digging into Lucifer's hips until the blonde found his release.
Alastor didn't bother drying them off when he finished, instead scooping the exhausted Lucifer into his arms as he resumed fucking Lucifer, the blonde's limp legs wrapped around Alastor's waist through force.
The poor doll's head lolling against Alastor's shoulder.
By five fourthy seven AM, Lucifer was thoroughly and wholly a mess. Cum drying on his thighs and sheets tangled around their bodies. Alastor had truly forgotten to clean them both.
With a sharp grin, the Radio host stood up and went to retrieve his car hidden near the house.
It was time to bring his gift home.
Won't you come home, Bill Bailey,
Won't you come home?
She moans the whole day long.
Alastor sang softly under his breath as he tied the apron around his waist, the orange fabric settling neatly against his shirt while the smell of breakfast filled the small kitchen. He glanced at the clock hanging on the wall and smiled to himself. It was Sunday. Vincent would sleep in a little longer than usual since there was no work waiting for him today.
“I'll do the cookin', honey, I'll pay the rent, I know I done you wrong..”
His singing paused when he heard the quiet shuffle of footsteps against the wooden floor. Alastor looked over his shoulder just in time to see Vincent stepping into the kitchen, black hair still messy from sleep and eyes half-lidded with exhaustion.
Despite that, there was a warm smile on his face as he hummed along to the tune.
"Do you remember that rainy evenin' I threw you out"
Vincent sang softly, closing the distance between them. His hands slid around Alastor’s waist without hesitation, pulling him away from the stove just enough to spin him once across the cramped kitchen floor which made alastor let out a surprised laugh, one hand instinctively catching Vincent’s shoulder to steady himself while the other still held the wooden spoon.
With nothin' but a fine tooth comb?
I know I'm to blame, ain't it a shame,
Bill Bailey, won't you please come home.
They both hummed together, swaying for another moment before Vincent pressed a lazy kiss against the corner of Alastor’s mouth.
“What got you so happy today?”
Vincent lowered his head, lightly nipping at Alastor’s ear. The action pulled a quiet laugh from him as he leaned back against Vincent’s chest.
Instead of answering immediately, Alastor tilted his head toward the living room where he knew, on the couch, a body lay sprawled beneath a soft comfortable blanket.
Vincent followed the gesture, and a manic grin stretching across his face widened further and further until the media man looked positively unhinged.
Silence settled for a brief moment before Vincent suddenly buried his face into the crook of Alastor’s neck, shoulders shaking with restrained excitement.
“Good lord,” he muttered. “We are terrible people.”
THE SOCIETY: YOUNGEST SON OF THE MORNINGSTAR FAMILY DECLARED MISSING.