Chapter Text
Alastor’s eyes train on a little shark tail, perplexingly shorter than normal. Normal as in, as it had been the past two weeks.
The prey that he’d been following was trying to get him close. Luckily for him, he’d struck gold with this one – he was currently trying out a much more ranged approach.
From so high up, the wind rushing past his ears and tousling his hair in the breeze, a sense of tranquility falls over him. He stands atop the highest peak of Pentagram City – the roof of the Heavenly Embassy that nobody had the courage to try to bring down or even look at – cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders in anticipation.
With nary a glance, Alastor reaches up to his antlers. He plucks off a small piece of the rapidly branching, bony appendages, and it begins to mold in the palm of his hand. The tiny piece reaches towards the sky and the ground at the same time, curling at the ends. There are sharp points sticking out all over the conjured bow. In a puff of green smoke, a bowstring attaches itself snugly to the base.
One calculated look was all it took. After quickly summoning an arrow – golden in color, glowing with divine light – and notching it, he aims with all the grace of an experienced killer.
Deep breath in.
Deep breath out.
Alastor releases the arrow. It soars through the air like a dragon, seeming to weave in and out of buildings guided only by Alastor’s murderous intent. There’s a tingle in the air, under his skin – it makes a home for itself there. It feels positively bursting with ecstasy when he makes a bullseye.
Somewhere, somehow, he feels the rending of flesh and the delicious stench of Sinner blood. It permeates the air and his nose scrunches. Yes, Alastor had his cannibalistic tendencies, but fortunately for him, his source had been something far more lovely as of late.
As soon as his hunt had begun, it was over.
Alastor hums to himself, vanishing his bow and arrow and listening to his heels click as he makes his way back to the Hazbin Hotel.
“ALASTOR!”
The man in question allows his ears to swivel in the direction of his door. There’s an incessant pounding on it, ringing throughout the entirety of his quarters. His head turns and is followed by his body.
When he answers the door, his smile is completely shit-eating.
“Your Majesty! How wonderful to see you, my dear, come in!”
Without much preamble, he tugs Lucifer into his room by his forearm. The king sputters as much as usual when Alastor is particularly handsy. He waltzes around the room, Lucifer in tow, humming along to a melody only he can hear. While Lucifer is still fumbling over his words, face turning a lovely shade of gold, Alastor twirls him directly into one of the seats in front of his fireplace.
“Do you have another assignment for me? So soon?”
Lucifer crosses his legs, eyes narrowing as he watches Alastor take his own seat across from him. “No. I actually came here to scold you. You’re supposed to be sneaky with this whole thing– Charlie can’t know that we have a deal or that you’re the one killing those…”
“Vermin?” Alastor supplies.
The king chuckles. “Well, your words, not mine.”
“As usual,”
Snapping his fingers allows for a small chorus to sound through the room. The radio on Alastor’s mantle bursts to life, and they both relax under the soothing voice. Alastor is humming along, Lucifer taps his boots on the floor to the beat – there’s a domestic air about it that makes Alastor’s ears flick and his hands are twitching to take hold of something. Perhaps strangle it. He’ll decide later.
Shooting out of his seat, Alastor saunters over to Lucifer’s. He looms over him for a moment, allowing Lucifer’s mind to run wild, and Alastor relishes in the fact that it only serves to make Lucifer blush harder than before. He leans down, a hand coming up to Lucifer’s jaw and his thumb running over the man’s lips. Their breaths mingle for a second too long.
“I liked your choice for this hunt. It was thrilling to try something new, my King.”
Lucifer’s breath hitches, eyes going half-lidded. “I’m glad I could make things exciting for a change.”
Alastor chuckles, his own lips brushing against Lucifer’s cheek. “You’re always exciting. Don’t sell yourself so short.”
He pulls away, heading over to his shelves – his little supply of liquor left much to be desired, but he was feeling so joyful today! Especially after his little comment… which, after another second or two, seems to settle in.
Lucifer heaves a long-suffering sigh. “That was a short joke. That was a short joke, wasn’t it?”
Alastor grins to himself, and when he turns around with his bottle in hand, he finds that Lucifer is speaking to his snake. Since he was feeling so victorious, he would’ve preferred if Lucifer let him speak to a different snake, but to each their own.
Lucifer conjures two small glasses while Alastor pours. Once he is back in his chair, Lucifer pushes himself forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
“...Alastor, you really need to be sneakier. I know that it’s, like, a thing for Sinners, but– but you already have all the confirmation that you need that you’re the strongest. You have the backing of the King of Hell for crying out loud–”
Alastor interrupts him with a long slurp of his whiskey. To his surprise – it just keeps getting better! – Lucifer pauses dead in his tracks with his gaze now on Alastor’s lips.
Ah, so Zestial did have good ideas.
“Tsk, tsk, Sire.” Alastor sets down his glass, crossing his legs. “You worry about the silliest things.”
“Charlie’s opinion is not silly–”
“I didn’t say it was. All I’m saying,” Alastor huffs, “is that all will be fine. Charlie knows my tendencies. I can brush it off with a ‘Charlotte, my dear, it’s for you and the hotel!’ and she’ll be none the wiser.”
“I don’t want to lie to my daughter.” Lucifer shakes his head.
“No, no, you won’t! I will.”
“You’re horrible,” Lucifer rakes a hand down his face. “You are the worst.”
Alastor tuts, getting up from his place once more. He drops to his knees in front of Lucifer, butting his way in between his arms. Lucifer has already gone deer-in-the-headlights already, staring at Alastor with a fiery regard, completely unblinking.
“You need to let off steam more often,” Alastor chides softly, looking up at his king through his lashes.
Lucifer nods ever so slightly. Alastor watches the way his neck bobs as he swallows.
“Let me help you,” Alastor coos.
A soft sound makes its way out of Lucifer, seemingly before he can help it. Another nod is all he gets before his face splits into an impish smile.
He promptly takes a bite out of Lucifer’s thigh.
“FFFFUUUUCK YOU, ALASTOR!”
Worth it.