Chapter Text
The sun in New Orleans was oppressive, but Vincent still preferred it over the suffocating streets of New York City because at least here, the air moved. Barely as it was.
Vincent used to think New York’s pressure meant ambition, until he realized it was just people drowning together without a shared direction. His father had warned him about it once, calling New York “success you can’t breathe in.” before he stopped saying anything at all under Vincent's hands.
His father is wrong. Vincent had always been different than most people. He breathes in success like its air. New York City, Los Angeles, San Francisco.. even Chicago and Boston feel the same in his mind.
New Orleans is no different.
Hot wind dragged through the roads. His polished shoes clicked sharply against the pavement as he walked.
Vincent kept his head high, posture perfect despite the heat pressing against his back. His black suit remained crisp without a wrinkle in sight with the dark fabric swallowing sunlight. His gloved hand adjusted the brim of his hat every now and then while his eyes drifted across the city lazily until someone recognizes the last name of his mother that he had given to himself.
“Mr. Whittman!”
Vincent immediately turned with ease, his bright smile appearing naturally. “Pleasure seeing you, old fella” he said smoothly, tipping his hat.
The man looked thrilled just from being acknowledged. Vincent held the smile, after all, he had learned early that people mistook politeness for warmth. He kept showing his teeth until the moment the fool walked away.
Disgusting.
His expression flattened instantly as he continued on.
The tie around his neck felt unbearable. Each greeting made it worse and every handshake made his skin crawl further. He could not understand how these idiots tolerated the heat while talking so loudly about absolutely nothing.
A woman who looked like Mrs Eva from Station Seven, who always remembered everyone’s name even when they wished she wouldn’t- wave at him from across the street.
Vincent smiled again.
Another man approached him, asking about yesterday’s broadcast. He held a folded newspaper under his arm with his voice carrying that tired hunger for answers. People always came to men like Vincent who decided what was true, and Vincent reveled in it.
Vincent smiled again.
A group of young women giggled as they passed. Vincent wondered if they were married. They probably were, judging by the neat buns pinned in their hair and the small, constant glints on their fingers whenever their hands moved. Either way, they looked too unguarded for his taste.
Vincent smiled again.
By the time they were gone, the muscles in his cheeks hurt.
He exhaled slowly through his nose and pressed two fingers against his temple. There was a dull headache that had been building since earlier that afternoon and it only worsened the more he thought about another miserable morning broadcast.
He wasted two full hours arguing with incompetent men who thought being louder at saying headlines automatically meant that they're better at journalism. They slammed fists on tables and repeated the word communist every five minutes. Idiots.
One of them even interrupted Vincent midway through a segment. Vincent could still remember the smug look on the man’s face which Vincent only rewarded with a smile through the entire thing.
That smile paid his bills, That smile kept cameras on him and that smile made audiences trust him even while he imagined wrapping his hands around the throats of everyone in the room.
His jaw tightened at the memory. He needed complete silence before he snapped at somebody unfortunate enough to cross his path.
After leaving the company building earlier, he had not gone home as he knew he would just be all alone there. His beloved still has his own broadcast. He had long acknowledged that without his beloved, home meant stillness. Stillness meant thinking and thinking meant remembering his rather distasteful past.
So he kept moving. He scanned the streets for a crowdless diner. He didn’t want to go back to the previous one he had visited because unfortunately, he had learned the hard annoying way that once a place became familiar, it stopped belonging only to him which is why he never stayed loyal to any diner for too long. His status attracted people. fans, drunks and annoying housewives asking for autographs for their husbands with workers firing off questions while he tried to eat.
His eyes scanned the road ahead. Somewhere nearby, jazz music spilled from an open building as the voice of Louis Armstrong drifted. If his beloved would be here, he would pause without realizing that he’d stopped walking at all.
But still, the memory of his beloved still didn't make the frustration disappear.
Everything felt irritating the longer he kept up the smiling act. Anyone watching him would think he belonged perfectly in the city. Nobody would notice the rage sitting underneath his skin. Vincent preferred it that way.
After all, a smile is a tool taught by his beloved.
It will hide his temper and it will hide the humiliation of another failed murder from yesterday night.
His fingers twitched slightly at his side.
The planning had been perfect yet somehow the bastard still slipped through his fingers alive. The night was a failure.
An unfortunate failure.
Vincent hated failing because he is a winner in life.
Things were supposed to go where he placed them. People were supposed to stay where they fell.
His control will never rot.
Vincent grunted and looked ahead and finally noticed the faint glow of a diner sign at the corner of the street. It was a smaller place. Quiet from the looks of it and hardly anyone near the windows. It was good. A real smile almost appeared this time as he adjusted his cuffs and crossed the street toward it. Hoping for a coffee that is strong enough to kill his headache and a few blessed minutes without hearing another idiot speak.
The smell of the diner and the small ching of the bell announced Vincent's arrival the moment he stepped inside
Coffee, fried grease and warm bread filled the air with the faint sting of cleaning solution. The door closed behind him, cutting off the street noise. Inside, the diner carried on without pause.
A few waiters looked up when he took another step and one of them smiled first. “Good afternoon.”
Vincent took another step, lifting his hat with smooth ease.
“Good afternoon,” he returned with his smooth voice. He carried himself like the usual posture of someone who belonged in every room he entered. But strangely today, the reaction was lighter than usual. He didn't hear a gasp or a sudden attention shift. It made Vincent pause but he kept his expression pleasant and moved forward as a waitress passed by him with a tray and nodded.
“Sit wherever you like, sir.”
“Thank you, miss.” Vincent said, keeping his tone polite.
“No problem,” the waitress replied without slowing down.
Vincent scanned the room as he walked. There's booths along the left. Counter seats near the window. There was a couple in the back arguing softly while beside them, there's a man reading the paper without looking up. The headline bleeds across the top in confident print.
‘TRUCE TALKS STALL OVER EUROPEAN TENSIONS’
another article beneath it mentions how the city of New Orleans crime rate climbs again with the police blaming organized groups
Vincent chose a stool at the counter and sat down with composed ease, placing his hat beside him. His jacket settled neatly as he adjusted his posture.
Vincent passed through New Orleans once under a ridiculous moniker that never stayed on paper. though somewhere soon in New Orleans, another body would be counted very soon. The moniker ‘The Dead Air Killer’ would be there again.
He was brought back into attention when the waitress from earlier approached. “What can I get you?” she asked. The waitress was a dyed blonde brunette. It was obvious that the bottle hadn’t quite matched the roots. Her uniform was clean but not crisp. One collar point sat slightly higher than the other, and her apron had a faint crease where it had been folded too many times instead of ironed. Her red lipstick was carefully applied but it's already fading unevenly at the corners
She was a woman not worth remembering.
Vincent smiled up at her. “Coffee, please. Black.”
“Sure thing,” she said.
“And a menu?” he added lightly.
She hummed, sliding one over. “Here you go.”
“Thank you." he said, taking it with a small nod as she moved on. Vincent didn’t open the menu immediately. He rested his forearms lightly on the counter, glancing around instead until a waiter spoke.
Slim build and an effeminate posture. The male leaned into the counter. He was chewing bubble gum lazily, flipping a pen between his fingers. A waiter’s uniform sat on him loosely, his sleeves slightly rolled. He glanced at Vincent, then smiled.
“Well, hello there, handsome. Nice eyes you have there..”
Vincent’s eyes shifted to him, immediately engaged. A man slightly worth remembering. He would be a fine useful man for his precious acquaintance, Valentino.
“Hello, good afternoon.” Vincent replied smoothly.
The waiter blinked once, then smirked. “You new here handsome? You look familiar.”
Vincent chuckled lightly. “I don't know. Perhaps you have seen me around somewhere.”
“Mm-hm, let's just say.. sure I did..” the waiter said, popping his gum. “I’d say your smile is very much reminding me of a ‘politician smile,’ sir. Very polished ain't ya?”
Vincent’s smile widened slightly at that. “a politician? You compliment me.”
The waiter had a strange look on his face that Vincent didn't bother to interpret. “im not wrong though,” the waiter replied, leaning his cheek into his palm. “You shake hands for a living?”
“Hm.” Vincent tilted his head slightly. “That’s not entirely inaccurate. I do shake hands.”
The waiter pointed at him. “See? I knew it. So what’s your story, mister polished smile? Businessman? Lawyer? One of those radio guys eh?”
“Media.” Vincent answered simply, taking a sip of his coffee. It was almost offending that the male didn't recognize him.
“ah! talks for a living’ types then. My names Anthony.” the waiter smiled wider.
“You’re raised and born from the marsh country, are you not?” Vincent exclaimed with a smile. The waiter looked taken aback. He parted his lips open- only to be interrupted by the waitress that had returned to place a cup in front of Vincent.
“Coffee,” she said.
“Thank you.” Vincent replied warmly, then took the mug to sip. The coffee was decent at least. His attention shifted when he heard the waitress talking to.. Anthony was it?
“Have you prepared Lucifer’s lunch?” The waitress leaned slightly over the counter as she checked the order ticket in her hand.
“Yeah,” Anthony answered. “I did. He’s just late. About thirty minutes i think.”
Vincent paused mid-sip. Lucifer? A name like that usually came with a story, or at least one of those church protestors who wanted attention.
He set his coffee down gently and turned his head a fraction. His tone stayed light when he spoke. “Lucifer?” he repeated. “That’s an unusual name for a man.”
The waitress gave a short laugh while flipping the ticket between her fingers.
"not his real name. We just call him that,” she said, “all in good fun, I can assure you.”
Vincent’s mismatched eyes shifted slightly, “that so? ..hm so he's a difficult customer who earned that nickname?”
The waiter beside him reacted immediately. Anthony leaned back slightly, one hand on his chest, insulted by the assumption of Vincent. “Oh no, no, no,” he said. “You got it wrong.”
Vincent looked at him fully now with polite curiosity as the waiter continued, his voice dropping slightly. “We call our regular customer Lucifer because…” He paused, then leaned in a bit more. “His beauty is unmatched. much more beautiful than any models ya see in any television..and he's a male. I'm jealous on behalf of the ladies. Heck, it's gonna be your first time seeing him so ya better close your mouth.”
Vincent blinked once. How ridiculous. If this “beauty” was real and standing in front of him, Vincent knew exactly what he would feel. He would be nothing special. Just another person occupying Vincent's space, waiting to be sized up and forgotten if they failed to justify the attention
The waitress behind the counter let out a small gasp, then smacked the waiter lightly on the back of his shoulder.
“Anthony,” she warned. “Don’t start that again.”
Anthony grinned, completely unfazed. “What?” he said. “It’s true. I’m just stating facts. That man is gorgeous”
Vincent’s expression softened into an amused one.
“So,” Vincent said, “pfft you’re telling me this man is called Lucifer… because he is attractive..? It's rather.. strange is it not?”
Anthony pointed at him immediately.
“Exactly that, sir. Dangerous levels of pretty. You better be careful or else he'll tempt you.”
Vincent gave a small nod as he took another sip of the coffee. “I see. Well I'll be on the lookout.” he said. Expecting the conversation to be finished yet the waitress crossed her arms and spoke again.
“We just say it to tease lucifer..” she added quickly. “Don’t let Anthony exaggerate. He makes everything sound dramatic.”
Anthony gasped. “I do not exaggerate, cherri.” he said. “again, that man is absolutely gorgeous. Don't deny it.’
Vincent gave a quiet laugh at that, trying hard not to raise an eyebrow at the blatant admiration of the same gender in public.
“And this… Lucifer,” he said calmly, “he is a regular here?”
“Every day,” the waitress said.
“Almost never late,” Anthony added. “Except today, apparently.”
Vincent rested his forearm lightly on the counter. “And he doesn’t mind the nickname?” he asked.
Anthony shrugged. “He complains. Every time. But he never stops coming back, so what does that tell you?”
The waitress pointed at him again. “It tells us you’re going to get whined at when he arrives.”
Anthony groaned dramatically.
“Worth it. At least I can see those gorgeous eyes on me.” he said, fanning himself.
Vincent smiled slightly, eyes lowering to his coffee for a moment. Then he looked back up. “And what exactly does Lucifer do?” he asked. He didn't care about Lucifer. He only asked because the conversation had finally shifted away from empty praise. This, at least, was different. A conversation that wasn’t about Vincent for once.
Anthony opened his mouth immediately. Then stopped. He blinked, thinking. His lips sticking out to lick his teeth. “Uh…” he said slowly. “Eat. Look pretty. Make people nervous to look at him but he's a pretty awkward guy too.”
The waitress sighed. “He works nearby,” she clarified. “He just comes here on his break.”
Vincent nodded once, attentive. “I understand.” he said.
Anthony leaned closer again, Vincent could smell the cheap perfume Anthony wears. “But I swear to you, media man" he said, “the man walks in and half the diner forgets how to act normal. Even the grumpy old guys go quiet.”
The waitress groaned. “Anthony..”
“What?” he said quickly. “I’m just describing the situation. I'm damn proud of our regular and this new customer should be aware of our regular. It's that simple, my lady.”
Vincent’s smile remained steady, but his gaze lingered a moment longer than before. “really interesting,” he said quietly. “And I assume,” Vincent added lightly, “I will recognize him when he arrives... There will be no lookout because I can recognize the fella."
Anthony grinned. “Oh, trust me,” he said. “You’ll know.”
The bell chimes and almost immediately, two of the workers look up and Anthony whistled.
“Speak of the devil and he shall appears.”
Vincent didn't bother to show his curiosity openly. He sipped his coffee and glanced only to froze.
The man could almost be mistaken for some carefully crafted porcelain doll. He was small and petite. He has large blue eyes framed by long lashes and cheeks that carried the faintest permanent flush with soft pink lips that curved into a naturally pouty shape. His skin was nearly flawless, pale as untouched porcelain with his light blond hair caressing his delicate cheeks.
It was ridiculous, truly. It was as if heaven itself had taken special care when shaping the man, granting him a beauty that felt unfairly delicate.
Vincent finally understood at what Anthony meant.
“Heya there Anthony. How's your afternoon?”
The man's voice didn't suit his appearance. It was rough yet smooth. Vincent observed the mismatch as a spark of intrigue igniting in his chest. He imagined those pale pink lips parting, first in surprise, then in pleasure as his hands encircled that slender neck. Would the man resist, his fingers clawing at Vincent's wrists? Or would he yield, his body pliant beneath the pressure? The questions danced in Vincent's mind, intoxicating Vincent.
“It's good, Lucifer. Thank you for blessing our afternoons. Your usual coming up our gorgeous regular!” Anthony said, beaming happily as he moved to the kitchen while the waitress went over to talk to Lucifer. Vincent tried his best not to appear as if he was listening, his grip on the mug tightening with each word the temptation uttered.
“Anthony- I um- thank you?" Lucifer stammered, flustered as his pale cheeks flushed red. Vincent watched with fascination. He pictured the crimson liquid dripping down Lucifer's skin and imagined the sound of that voice screaming Vincent's beloved or Vincent's name in ecstasy or pain. The thought sent a jolt straight to his groin and he shifted uncomfortably in his pants with the fabric suddenly turning too tight.
“Oh don't mind Anthony, we're just excited to see you lu, we were wondering why you took so long. You're always punctual.” the waitress pursed her lips and pat Lucifer's back to which Vincent immediately had the urge to rip those hands away.
“Mm yeah uh, I was kinda busy in the morning but hey atleast I came just five minutes late. Oh man, I'm starved.”
Lucifer moved to one of the booths and Vincent couldn't take it anymore and stood up, fixing his cufflinks and approaching Lucifer. The waitress gave him an odd and amused look as she left to go clean someone's mess.
“Vincent whittman, at your pleasure.” He said Charmingly, trying not to shudder when those blue eyes, so bright finally meet his.
“And uhh..” Lucifer looked around. “what do you want with me?”
You.
The word nearly left Vincent’s mouth before he stopped himself. This was no ridiculous matter anymore. Anthony had been right. Lucifer was beautiful.
The temptation incarnate sat there adjusting the sleeves of his white coat with mild annoyance on his face, entirely unaware of the effect he had on the room. But Vincent noticed. A few customers had glanced up when he entered and one nearly walked into a chair. That was the effect of Lucifer.
Vincent recovered quickly.
He sat beside Lucifer with smooth confidence, his expression warm and approachable. Years in broadcasting had trained every movement to be appealing into every men he had ever met. Even now, caught off guard for half a second due to Lucifer, his smile settled perfectly into place.
Lucifer frowned. Not subtly, either. Vincent was slightly offended once more. Lucifer's eyebrows pulled together as his gaze traveled over Vincent from head to toe, suspicious and openly unimpressed.
“Well,” Vincent began smoothly, “I was merely curious and you have caught my attention.”
Lucifer said nothing. He only scoffed. Up close, Vincent noticed details Anthony had failed to mention. Pale lashes and sharp eyes. The faint crease between his brows showed that he spent most of his day irritated. He smelled faintly of soap and apples.
“And perhaps,” Vincent continued easily, “a little interested in becoming your acquaintance.”
Usually that was enough to make people softened around him quickly. Some became nervous while others became eager. Vincent understood exactly how to guide conversations into his favor. So he waited for the usual reaction and recognition.
The ‘Oh, you’re Vincent Whittman.’ but nothing happened.
Lucifer only scrunched his nose slightly in what Vincent found strangely adorable. His expression might have showed on his face because Lucifer looked at him with even more suspicion. “Right,” Lucifer said slowly. “Uh… I don’t do acquaintances. Sorry.”
Vincent blinked once. That was new and it had been too long that he had been treated this way. Most people at least pretended to recognize him and even people who disliked him knew his face. His voice alone usually gave him away. But Lucifer looked at him like he was just another man bothering him at a counter.
Vincent’s smile never slipped despite his irritation.
“How unfortunate,” he replied smoothly. “I insist. I assure you, I have no ill intentions.”
Lucifer snorted softly. “That’s exactly what people with bad intentions say, four eyes.”
Anthony made a choking sound from behind the counter and Vincent now knows that the waiter had been listening in. With a grunt, Vincent glanced briefly toward him before returning his attention to Lucifer. “I’ll try a different approach then,” Vincent said lightly. “Hello. My name is Vincent.”
Lucifer looked at the offered hand, Then at Vincent’s face. Then back at the hand. “just.. just call me what they call me here.” he said cautiously, shaking it once before pulling away quickly.
Vincent found himself smiling more.
“A pleasure,” he said. Still, the lack of recognition continued bothering vincent so he tilted his head slightly and studied the man more carefully. “Perhaps,” he said casually, “you recognize me from television?”
Lucifer’s expression remained blank. Then he frowned harder.
“…Should I?”
Vincent stared at Lucifer for a full second before recovering smoothly.
“No,” he replied with a pleasant laugh. “Not necessarily.” That answer felt strange coming out of his mouth.
“I, uh… I don’t watch television.” Lucifer said it casually as anthony slid a plate in front of him with practiced ease.
“Your usual,” he said.
Lucifer nodded once. “Thanks.” Then he looked back at Vincent, shoulders relaxing slightly now that food had arrived. “They scramble the brain, you know?” Lucifer added while reaching for his fork. “it’s bad for you.”
Vincent barely heard Lucifer for a moment because his attention had shifted the second Lucifer started eating. Lucifer parted his lips slightly as he took a bite, distracted and completely unaware of the way Vincent was watching him. The way he ate was calm and collected.
Vincent’s gaze lowered briefly before returning to Lucifer’s face.
Most attractive people knew exactly what they were doing when someone looked at them. Lucifer either didn’t notice or genuinely didn’t care.
Vincent leaned one elbow lightly against the counter.
“Well,” he said smoothly, “that is unfortunate for my profession.”
Lucifer swallowed and glanced at him.
“uh you work in television?”
“among other things.” Vincent replied with a soft laugh.
Vincent’s eyes lowered briefly toward Lucifer’s mouth again before he caught himself when anthony suddenly paused mid-motion, staring harder at Vincent.
“Wait a damn minute…”
Lucifer looked between them.
“Oh, you’re that broadcaster fellow. The one my aunt likes.” He snapped his fingers. “Vincent something.”
“Whittman,” Vincent supplied smoothly. Finally pleased that the waiter recognized him.
“That’s it.” Anthony looked impressed. “Damn. You look shorter on television.”
Vincent stared at him. Expression blank.
“You’re that news guy.”
Vincent gave a polite smile. “Well, I worked in news broadcasting for some time, though recently I was moved to-”
Lucifer interrupted before he could finish.
“Oh. You’re that strange news man.”
Anthony gasped in surprise and made Vincent blink. As he sat there for a moment, Vincent had no idea how he was supposed to react. He had been respected by everyone, admired by everyone, and envied by everyone. He had women who loved him, men who tried to look like him and executives that paid attention when he talked. Nobody had ever had the guts to look him in the eye and make him feel as if everything he had accomplished was nothing.
“…Pardon?”
Lucifer pointed vaguely with his fork. “You do,” Lucifer continued without hesitation. “My neighbor watches your broadcasts. Every time I pass by, you are always talking eagerly about the recent murders in Louisiana.”
Anthony let out one short laugh before immediately coughing into his fist when Vincent glanced at him. “Sorry,” Anthony muttered quickly. “Sorry. Excuse me.” He grabbed a tray off the counter and walked off, leaving Vincent staring at Lucifer.
“That is quite the opinion to form from passing a television set,” Vincent said.
Lucifer swallowed his food and took a drink.
“You television people always look too polished,” he replied. “it makes me suspicious.”
“And you are suspicious of polished people?”
“I’m suspicious of anybody who smiles that easily in these days.”
Vincent smiled wider. “You would love a partner of mine.”
Lucifer shot Vincent a withering glance before turning back to his meal, leaving Vincent alone with his thoughts. Vincent's eyes followed the curve of Lucifer's neck, imagining how it would feel between his teeth. He pictured those pale legs wrapped around his waist, the doll-like figure writhing beneath him in the grimy alley behind the diner. He would bend those perfect legs over his shoulders and fuck him raw against the brick wall.
The possessive urge clawed at his chest, fingers twitching with the need to claim this newfound addiction of his.
“Thanks Anthony! The food is as delicious as always.”
Vincent noticed the moment Lucifer was finishing his meal. The man had barely slowed down near the end. It was obvious he had suddenly remembered somewhere else he needed to be or perhaps someone else he needed to get away from.
Vincent’s eyes narrowed slightly before he caught himself. Vincent will bid his time. He smoothed the expression away immediately, replacing it with the same composed smile he wore so naturally. No irritation remained visible by the time Lucifer reached for his wallet and pulled out a few bills and placed them on the counter. He then watched Lucifer stand. There's even a final glance in Vincent’s direction at first.
Vincent disliked that immediately.
He leaned back slightly against his stool, forcing himself to appear relaxed as Lucifer adjusted his coat until he left.
The bell above the diner door rang again with a small ching. Warm sunlight spilled in briefly before the door shut behind him.
Vincent’s eyes remained on the entrance long after Lucifer disappeared from view. He picked up his coffee cup, only to realize it had already gone cold. He sat there for another couple of minutes, while irritation simmered slowly, mixed with curiosity. Tapping his fingers on the counter, he stood. He adjusted the sleeves of his shirt first. Smoothed down the front of his suit and picked up his hat. He then opened his own wallet.
Vincent will bid his time.
When Vincent got home, the cabin was already dark. There were no lights in the main room or the radio set. There was only the quiet creak of the wood as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Usually that means Alastor was asleep and has an early broadcast tomorrow.
Vincent paused for a moment in the entryway, letting his different colored eyes adjust to the dim interior. The tie around his neck felt looser now, but he still removed it with care as alastor had been the one to tie it in the morning.
He took off his shoes first unless he wants to hear alastor nag, he placed it neatly by the door. His jacket followed and hung on the rack without hesitation. He loosened his white sleeves next, rolling them slightly while he walked through the quiet cabin. He moved down the hallway toward the bedroom and noticed that the door was slightly open.
Vincent stepped inside carefully, not turning on the lamp unless he wanted to earn alastor's ire. The room was dim and Alastor was already in bed. He lay on his side, relaxed with one arm resting loosely across the pillow. His breathing was steady. There was the usual faint scent of whiskey and cigarettes lingered on him, mixing with the fabric of the sheets.
Vincent watched his beloved for a moment before moving closer. He climbed into bed without disturbing him too much, shifting carefully under the blanket. Then he leaned in, sliding a strong arm around Alastor’s waist. He felt the man stirred slightly but did not fully wake as a low hum left him.
“Mm…”
Vincent settled closer, his forehead brushing lightly near Alastor’s neck.
“You’re home late,” Alastor muttered, his usual voice rough with sleep.
Vincent smiled faintly.
“I had a longer day than expected.”
Alastor shifted slightly, still not opening his eyes.
“Broadcast trouble again chér?”
Vincent exhaled softly.
“Nothing your dear could not handle.”
Vjncent’s grip around Alastor tightened slightly. It was not enough to disturb him. Vincent had learned exactly how much pressure he could get away with before Alastor started complaining.
“My love.”
Alastor hummed in response. The man was not fully awake, but he was listening. It made Vincent pause. He was unsure of how to phrase his newfound addiction.
“I have the perfect gift for us for our anniversary.”
Us.
Yes, us.
Vincent had long stopped seeing the line between what belonged to him and what belonged to Alastor. Alastor's home became their home. His money was for alastor to spend without asking. Ownership had become shared somewhere along the way through their marriage and Vincent knew with glee that Alastor will surely hunger for Lucifer.
Stalking Lucifer was surprisingly easy and Vincent found that insulting because it would also be easy for idiots coveting Lucifer.
Usually people like Lucifer were more careful. They noticed repeated faces, footsteps and familiar cars parked often near the same street. Those people developed instincts when they felt watched. Lucifer did not.
But anyway, Vincent had learned quickly that Lucifer’s real name was Lucien Magne. Twenty-five years old and employed as an assistant to a local executive Vincent already recognized.
Vincent plans to deal with that executive eventually.
Now the man found himself paying attention for an entirely different reason which is the Interesting timing. Lucien’s routine became easy to memorize after only a few days.
Lucifer would wake early just like alastor.
He would walk to work instead of taking a train whenever the weather allowed it.
The man would always grab lunch at the diner with always the exact same order and he would leave forty minutes later unless work delayed him.
Vincent learned all of it effortlessly despite the slight disturbance he felt. This was the first time he had followed somebody without intending to kill them.
Though every time Vincent watched Lucien disappear into his office building or laugh quietly at something Anthony said across the diner counter, Vincent felt an urge to wrap his hands around his throat.
How dare Lucifer look at the fools that weren't him?
Vincent continued visiting the diner. The first return was intentional and by the twentieth visit, Anthony had stopped pretending not to notice.
“Oh, look who’s back,” Anthony said one afternoon when the charming Vincent entered. “im guessing… Coffee? Black? A side of waiting for our beloved regular?”
Vincent smiled as he removed his gloves.
“You’ve become very confident lately, young man.”
“oh you're practically now a regular too,” Anthony replied immediately as the bell above the diner door chimed shut behind Vincent as he walked toward the counter. Unlike before, several customers looked up this time.
Finally, recognition had finally settled into the diner as someone nodded politely at him from a booth. From the corner of his eyes, he saw another man whisper quietly to his wife while glancing toward the television mounted near the shelves. Anthony had even started turning Vincent’s broadcasts on during slower hours.
Vincent noticed it ecstatically the first time when he had entered the diner only to hear his own voice echoing softly from the television while Anthony looked entirely unapologetic. Nowadays his voice fills the diner regularly during afternoon broadcasts.
Lucifer hated it and vincent discovered that almost immediately too.
“You’re putting him on again?” Lucifer had once complained one afternoon while sliding onto his usual stool.
Anthony shrugged while pouring coffee and glancing at Vincent.
“He’s right there, ya know?”
“I know.” Lucien muttered while vincent sat only two stools away, smiling pleasantly over the rim of his coffee cup.
“oh how you wound me, lu. Am I really that annoying to you?”
Lucien didn’t even look at him as Vincent’s smile remained perfectly in place, though his usual irritation pressed quietly underneath it.
Lucien kept ignoring him.
Vincent would greet him and Lucien would grunt. Vincent would start conversations and Lucifer answered with the fewest words possible.
The difference between him and Alastor was absurd. Alastor, despite his caution in the beginning, had always known how to engage. He spoke like a man born with a stage beneath his feet, one that Vincent loved. Even when suspicious of Vincent, Alastor still participated in the dance of conversation. He challenged, provoked and laughed.
Their Lucifer unfortunately did none of that.
Instead, some afternoons Lucifer would enter the diner, saw Vincent already seated and visibly considered leaving and it bothered Vincent.
So on one afternoon Vincent arrived early on purpose and took the stool directly beside Lucifer's usual seat. He watched how Lucifer stopped the second he entered and narrowed those bright blue eyes.
“You’re doing that intentionally. Mr. Whittman.”
Vincent looked up from his newspaper calmly. Pretending not to stare at Lucifer's lips.
“Doing what, lu? Also, good afternoon.”
“Sitting there.”
“There are many empty seats, you know?” Vincent folded the newspaper neatly. “Perhaps you should clarify your point.”
Lucien stared at him for several long seconds before sliding into the seat next to Vincent anyway with obvious annoyance.
“I did not realize my presence affected you so strongly.” Vincent said while Lucifer looked at him, visibly irritated.
“You’re a strange man, whittman.”
Vincent’s smile sharpened slightly. “Really? And what exactly have you concluded from your observations of me, lu?”
Lucifer opened his mouth to reply, then suddenly stopped. His eyes widened slightly.
“Oh, shit.”
Anthony looked up from behind the counter immediately. “What?”
“My suitcase.” Lucifer pushed a hand through his hair, visibly alarmed now. “I forgot my damn suitcase at work.” He stood so quickly the stool scraped loudly against the floor.
Anthony winced. “Again?”
“Yes, again,” Lucifer winced also while grabbing his coat. “My boss is gonna kill me if somebody touches those files.” Lucifer turned toward Anthony first. “Sorry, I’ll be back,” he said quickly. Then his eyes flicked briefly toward Vincent.
“You,” Lucifer muttered vaguely while pointing at him for half a second. “Don’t.. fo.."
He stopped himself. Vincent raised a brow pleasantly.
“Don’t what?”
Lucifer narrowed his eyes and spat out a word.
“Nothing.”
Then he turned and hurried toward the exit before the bell above the diner door rang sharply. Vincent’s eyes stayed fixed on the entrance for several long seconds afterward. His fingers tapped once against the coffee cup and the urge to follow immediately pressed hard at the back of his mind.
Going after him would be easy.
Lucifer was careless when distracted. Vincent already knew the route back toward the office building. He could catch up within minutes.
But.. Vincent forced himself to stay seated. Vincent would bid his time. He would bid.. his time..
Beside him, he heard Anthony sighed while wiping down the counter.
“He’ll be back,” He said. “Lucifer gets forgetful sometimes.”
Vincent finally looked away from the door.
“mm, I noticed.”
Anthony snorted tiredly but didn’t respond right away. He continued wiping the same spot on the counter longer than necessary.
Without Lucifer occupying Vincent's attention, Vincent’s eyes lingered on Anthony for a moment. Realizing that the waiter looked worse today. There were dark circles under his eyes Vincent hadn’t noticed before. It made Vincent curious.
“What’s the problem?”
Anthony looked up immediately, startled by the question.
“What?”
“You appear exhausted of course," Vincent said smoothly. “Something is troubling you. Mind if you share?”
Anthony leaned one elbow against the counter and rubbed his face briefly. “It’s nothin,” he muttered.
Vincent stayed quiet and soon anthony sighed once more.
“The pay here just…” He shrugged weakly. “It ain’t enough anymore.”
Vincent watched him calmly. Amused how Anthony looked away while continuing. “My sister’s in the hospital.” His voice lowered slightly now. “I’ve been trying to cover the bills but…” He laughed coldly once. “Turns out hospitals like money.”
Vincent’s expression softened immediately, practicing sympathy. “That is unfortunate,” he said gently. Inside, Vincent felt absolutely nothing.
Anthony gave a tired shrug.
“Yeah.”
“...”
Slowly, Vincent reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a card. With black lettering. In the card, the name valentino was written beautifully.
Vincent placed it carefully onto the counter and slid it toward Anthony.
“Perhaps,” Vincent said smoothly, “you could ask an acquaintance of mine for assistance.”
Anthony looked down at the card uncertainly. “What kind of assistance?”
“Financial.”
Anthony picked the card up slowly, the waiter still looking confused.
“You serious?”
“Quite.”
Anthony looked back at the card again, exhaustion clearly fighting with caution as Vincent hid the faint glee threatening at the corner of his mouth. His valentino would absolutely exploit somebody desperate enough for hospital money and Vincent knew that perfectly well.
Vincent stood from his stool smoothly and adjusted the sleeves of his coat. Then he opened his wallet and slid a few bills onto the counter beside the untouched coffee cup.
“For the trouble,” he said lightly.
Anthony looked up immediately.
“Thanks… Mr. Whittman.”
Vincent placed his hat back onto his head.
“Good day, Anthony.”
“Good day, Mr. Whittman.”
It was the twenty-fifth day Vincent had visited the diner. Outside, the weather had finally broken. The suffocating heat that had lingered over New Orleans for days disappeared beneath the heavy rain.
Vincent sat in his usual seat beside Lucifer. His expensive shoes tapped once against the floor before going still. Lucifer had barely spoken since arriving and that alone irritated Vincent immediately.
Usually Lucifer would scoff. He would slightly complain or insult Vincent's profession but strangely today he simply sat there eating in silence.
“So, lu” Vincent said smoothly while stirring his coffee, “your boss apparently attempted to blame you for his own paperwork mistake yesterday. Miss Cherri told me all about it.” He lied. The woman didn't in fact told him because vincent didn’t need the truth. he needed a thread that would pull Lucifer into speaking
Yet there was still no response. Lucifer continued staring down at his plate.
Vincent’s eyes narrowed slightly before softening again. “That true?”
“...”
Vincent continued to smile faintly. “You are unusually quiet today.” He tapped two fingers against the warm coffee cup. Tap. Tap. “You’ve looked at your plate more lovingly than you’ve looked at me this afternoon. Are you tired?”
“...”
“Tired enough to forget your personality eh? C’mon, Lu. Give me something. I’m starting to feel unwanted here.” he flashed a bright smile. Thankfully that earned him a glance finally.
“There it is. There's my lu.” Vincent said immediately, pleased. Admiring Lucifer's delicate cheeks. His words didn’t improve Lucifer’s mood at all. Sadly.
Anthony was missing from behind the counter today. A different waitress handled the coffee refills instead, nervous whenever Vincent looked directly at her but Vincent didn’t ask where Anthony had gone since he already knew.
Anthony had been desperate enough to be in Valentino's clutches.
Desperate people reached for whatever hand offered assistance.
Vincent rested one arm against the counter and looked sideways toward Lucifer again.
Speaking of clutches. Vincent still didn’t have any around Lucifer. Twenty-five visits. Twenty-five conversations.
Twenty-five afternoons spent sitting beside his temptation.
It made no sense. Lucifer should have softened by now. Vincent knew how to make himself appealing. He knew how to become familiar. Yet Lucifer remained frustratingly distant.
Vincent’s gaze drifted over Lucifer. Noticing the tension in his shoulders and the exhaustion around his eyes. The slight crease in his brow that appeared whenever he was thinking too hard. Vincent wanted to smooth that expression away with his thumb.
“Follow me.”
Vincent blinked when Lucifer suddenly stood up. The movement was so abrupt enough that Vincent’s words died in his throat. Lucifer did not even look at him. The blonde man simply reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and dropped several bills onto the table beside the untouched coffee.
‘follow me?’
Vincent stayed seated for a few seconds, staring at the empty spot across from him while the diner noise carried on around him. He watched Lucifer walk straight toward the exit. The serious expression on the man made Vincent slowly lean back into the booth. His fingers drummed once against the table before stopping completely.
His eyes followed Lucifer’s figure through the diner windows. The man did not once glance back.
Was he especially much more irritated today?
No. Lucifer did not seem angry earlier. The man was distant
Then what?
Vincent narrowed his eyes slightly.
Maybe Lucifer finally got fed up with him? No that wouldn't do. Lucifer doesn't decide whether Vincent had enough of him.
His gaze dropped toward the money left on the table and he huffed quietly through his nose.
Maybe Lucifer thought avoiding would make Vincent stop following him around. Maybe he wanted silence perhaps? Or maybe he was exhausted enough to finally decide Vincent was becoming a problem to him?
Or maybe..
Maybe Lucifer was testing him back.
Would Vincent lose interest if ignored?
Would he finally take the hint?
Vincent reached for his hat resting beside him and slid it onto his head with practiced ease. The brim shadowed his eyes just enough to hide the faint glint forming there.
His doll should really know better by now.
He did not bother leaving a tip as Vincent walked out of the diner after Lucifer at an unhurried pace, hands tucked into his coat pockets while rain-cooled air brushed against his face.
His eyes scanned the street, seeing Lucifer was already ahead. Vincent adjusted his pace and caught up in a few long strides. He fell into step beside Lucifer without asking permission, matching his speed easily.
Vincent glanced at Lucifer’s face. His doll looks exceptionally beautiful today.
Vincent watched him for another second, then noticed the coat. It was not enough protection for the weather so as the gentleman that he is, he clicked his tongue once under his breath and without breaking stride, he lifted his hat off his own head and reached over.
The hat landed on Lucifer’s head, slightly tilted.
Lucifer’s steps slowed for half a beat. “…What are you doing,” Lucifer asked flatly while Vincent kept walking beside him, his hand already returning to his pocket.
“Helping you not catch a cold.” Vincent replied casually.
He studied Lucifer’s expression again. The tightness had not gone away. If anything, it had sharpened.
“What’s the problem, Lu? Where are we going? You're not going to kill me secretly are you?”
Vincent's gaze darted from one shadowed alleyway to the next, each one playing host to a different depraved fantasy in his mind. He pictured Lucifer's back hitting the brick wall, his hands pinned above his head while Vincent rutted against him, the coarse fabric of their clothes scraping together.
Lucifer walks so carelessly. Doesn't he know not to do that in a place like New Orleans? his fingers twitching at his sides, itching to grab, to hold and to claim. The image of Lucifer's pale skin against the rough brick made him groan softly.
Vincent swore that if they passed in one more alleyway, Vincent wouldn't bother to wait this time he would claim their doll- Vincent’s thoughts cut off the moment Lucifer turned off the main street.
Vincent slowed slightly behind him, watching as Lucifer walked toward a motel building instead of continuing down the road. The building was old and dimly lit. It made Vincent stopped for half a second as his had mind stalled.
Then he followed as lucifer did not look back whether Vincent was following or not. It made Vincent’s attention sharpen. It seemed that Lucifer had already decided that this would be the outcome before Vincent even stepped outside the diner.
Vincent’s eyes stayed on Lucifer’s back as they both entered. Inside, the air was dry and slightly stale. A tired-looking worker sat behind the counter, glancing up as they walked in.
Her eyes moved between Lucifer and Vincent, pausing before settling into a judgemental stare filled with disgust.
Vincent noticed it yet his attention remains in Lucifer who stepped up to the counter first. “Room,” he said. The worker blinked once, then reached for the register. “Single or double?” the worker asked, tone already shifting into assumption.
Lucifer didn’t hesitate.
“One bed.” he replied.
Vincent’s expression changed. His eyes moved to Lucifer’s profile yet lucifer still didn’t look at him. Unsure of what to say, he leaned slightly on his heel, arms relaxed at his sides and letting the silence sit.
Lucifer placed the payment down while the worker processed it quickly, eager to end the interaction.
One bed. One room.
Lucifer took the key without waiting, turning away from the counter and vincent followed automatically, still quiet. He watched him much more closely.
So this truly was intentional.
In a blink of an eye, they both got onto the room they were given. Vincent stepped in followed by Lucifer who shut that door close.
“So do you truly want to kill me?” Vincent asked, voice pleasant and steady, like he was asking about the usual weather. His eyes did not move toward the room, the bed, or the door.
They stayed on Lucifer intently.
“Stop following me,” Lucifer hissed. The blonde dropped his coat onto the chair without folding it, then stepped forward immediately. Vincent stayed still. Unafraid when Lucifer moved into his space fast, closing the distance until Vincent had to angle his head down slightly to keep eye contact. Lucifer leaned in anyway.
He heard how Lucifer's voice broke slightly at the edges.
“I know you’re the one causing trouble in my workplace,” Lucifer said, words coming faster. “And-and you kept following me in my work, I saw- I saw you talking to people you shouldn’t be talking to. I saw you watching me. Do you think I didn’t notice whittman?”
Vincent didn’t respond. His attention stayed locked on Lucifer’s face, then drifted lower. Lucifer’s pink mouth kept moving. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do,” Lucifer continued, voice rising just a fraction. “But it's affecting my life- why are you inserting yourself into my life and act like a creepy bastard-”
Vincent’s eyes finally stopped at Lucifer’s neck.
Lucifer’s words blurred again, losing structure in Vincent’s perception. Something about work and boundaries. Vincent tilted his head slightly to adjust his view.
Lucifer noticed the silence and he stopped mid-sentence.
“…Are you even listening to me?”
Vincent’s voice came back smooth.
“Yes.”
He watched lucifer gritted his teeth, his knuckles white as he clenched his fists at his sides, the frustration radiating off him in waves. With a deliberate slowness, he began stiffly unbuttoning his white shirt. Vincent watched, fascination coiling in his gut as the fabric parted, revealing pale expanses of skin that flushed pink across the chest. his mouth watered at the sight. "You can- you can take what you want. I just want you to stop following me." Lucifer's voice was tight and barely above a whisper. If Vincent was a normal proper man he would apologize but Vincent has never been a loser in life.
He was a winner. A winner who took what he was tempted to.
That mindset wasn’t new since it had been shaped early during the early childhood days.
His father used to call it “stubbornness,” usually right before correcting him with a hand striking heavy. His father had been wrong.
And his father was six feet underground
So when Lucifer’s voice trembled in front of him now, asking him to stop following, Vincent didn’t hear a boundary being set.
All he could see is the resistance that mirrored his own and he intend to exploit it.
Vincent stepped closer, "You could just say so, lu. You made me wait for nearly a month." He reached out, fingers brushing against Lucifer's wrist, stopping him from shrugging the shirt off completely. Without waiting for permission, Vincent slid his hands beneath the open fabric, his thumbs finding those tight pink peaks and rubbing slow circles.
"Now why would I stop when you're finally giving me what I want?" he murmured, his breath hot against Lucifer's ear as he pulled him closer, bodies flush against each other.
“Whittman..”
Vincent paid no mind to the hissed name as he scoffed in amusement “I’ve been longing for this, doll.” With that, he threw Lucifer on the bed with a harsh force, the hat tumbling down the floor which Vincent ignored. He climbed between Lucifer's legs.
He then proceeded to feel out Lucifer’s body as his hands found their way to Lucifer’s flat chest where he violently squeezed and tugged at the pale skin.
Vincent nibbled down on Lucifer’s neck grazing his teeth against that sensitive spot, resulting in a breath of desire from Lucifer, encourage and eager- He slightly lifted himself up and moved forward. he sailed down onto Lucifer’s nipples and sucked with hard force while his free hand continued to violate all around the chest area.
Lucifer taste soft and sweet. He would be a fine meal both in bed and in the kitchen of Vincent's beloved.
Vincent moved his hand to the lower part of Lucifer’s body, groping the cock through his pants. Lucifer let out a choked whimper as Vincent opened his mouth to spit out “Do you usually give your body to make a man stop?” knowing full well this would jerk the temper out of lucifer.
Upon hearing this, lucifer said indignantly “No, I do not give my body to make a man stop, Fuckwit” Vincent darkly chuckled as he tightened his grip on Lucifer’s wrist just to prove his point.
“Little Liar” he proceeded to whisper into Lucifer’s ear.
"From the time you stepped through that door, I have wanted you," Vincent's lust-filled tone vibrated off Lucifer's clothing. he began to pull at it, watching Lucifer take in a sharp breath when he saw Vincent's intense stare. It made fincent felt the heat in his chest increase.
With little effort, he lifted Lucifer onto his lap in such a way that Lucifer's ass was pushed forward and Vincent's fingers could dig into his pale skin. With force, Vincent ripped off those pants down to Lucifer's ankles and shook them off, followed by the piece of underwear covering Lucifer's delicate flesh.
He exposed it to his lustful gaze. "I can’t believe you made me hold out for so long," Vincent said, desire raging in his voice while he fumbled through the inside of his coat pocket for the lube he always carries with him when he goes to see his beloved alastor or his acquaintance, Valentino.
Vincent applied the slick substance to his fingers. he looked at Lucifer's face while he traced the tight ring of muscle surrounding Lucifer's hole. "Breathe for me doll." Vincent grunted, he then pressed his finger against the tight anal entrance of Lucifer's body, slowly pushing in until he broke through the resistance at which point both he and Lucifer inhaled sharply.
Vincent’s voice had a possessive tone when Lucifer’s expression contorted with pleasure.
“What a great gift,” he whispered as he gripped Lucifer’s thin hips. “You are ours, right? Say it loud and clear.”
Lucifer blinked, gasping, his cheeks turning red. “W-who? Ours?”
Vincent chuckled darkly, fumbling with his pants and pulling them down, along with his underwear, revealing his cock which he began to stroke. After removing his fingers from Lucifer, he felt it was long enough to do so. “You’ll find out soon.”
He swiftly and skillfully turned their positions once again so that Vincent was lying back on the bed with Lucifer above him. Vincent gazed up at the angel above him with a look of intense veneration.
Vincent rumbled quietly when he observed the uncertainty in Lucifer’s eyes. “Stop being so tentative,” he whispered, before yanking Lucifer down harder until he sat completely down with an audible moan. “You’re gonna ride me hard… now.” The words of Vincent apparently caused Lucifer to stiffen at the insult.
“I’m NOT a toy for you to use, you brute.” he snapped.
Vincent's response was low and soothing, he moved his hands from Lucifer's hips to his thighs, caressing them lightly.
"You're right, you're not but please, Lu. You are actually killing me right now. I swear I will not follow you after this. Would you like that?" he lied to Lucifer while spreading his legs further apart so that Vincent could easily see his cock buried halfway into that tight heat. Adding to his partner's pleasure, Vincent then continued to rock his hips while slowly entering and exiting him, effectively now bouncing Lucifer's body slowly on top of him. "Just relax," he whispered softly, "I can take great care of you”
Vincent took pleasure in watching Lucifer respond with noise and movement above him. "Poor lu," Vincent said sympathetically as his thrusts picked up their pace. "Did your boss give you a hard time? Was he hard on you?" The sound of skin coming together echoed in the room as Lucifer's body bounced off of Vincent's thrusts and the sounds that left Lucifer's mouth encouraged Vincent to keep thrusting more forcefully.
His hands became tighter around Lucifer's hips and he began to use all of his strength to pull Lucifer down onto each of his thrusts until Lucifer's cock jerked and spilled out cum.
Meanwhile, Vincent was not even close to being finished.
With fatigue taking its toll, Lucifer shook his head and said softly, "I can't do this anymore. I'm finished." His voice trembled from the effort he had just exerted, however Vincent simply uttered a low hum of approval and ignored the blonde. he sat upright and pulled out his still erect cock. He then repositioned Lucifer onto the bed on all fours.
"Shh, I'll try to go slow." Vincent reassured (lied) while he moved behind Lucifer and took hold of his cock, placing it back into the now gaping hole.
"My Lu, my baby." As he spoke, he encouraged Lucifer by putting pressure on the small of his back and watching as Lucifer's pale ass was arching perfectly. Vincent thrust into Lucifer without hesitation, instead of easing slowly into him, he gave him everything he had all at once.
With each thrust of his hips, Lucifer's moans changed from being soft to a broken sound that echoed of broken words. Vincent closed his eyes, listening to how beautiful the sound of these cries were.
Oh how Vincent is so close to his orgasm for a while now but vincent doesn't want that yet and so he picked up the pace of his thrusting until Lucien was crying.
After achieving this, Vincent pulled his cock out slowly and took a deep breath before laying down on top of Lucien instead of kneeling behind him while still grinding into him at the same time, Vincent grabbed the edge of Lucien's open shirt that was dangling down his back and kissed along where each shoulder was covered by fabric before he continued to fuck him.
"my cock felt so fucking perfect deep inside of you," Vincent said in a husky tone while biting into the exposed skin along the side of Lucien's neck. “fuck, you're so beautiful. So fucking beautiful, lu.”
Vincent rolled onto his side, he fucked Lucifer from behind once more and his hand gently went back to squeezing Lucifer's chest.
Knowing he couldn't delay his own orgasm any longer, Vincent picked up the pace of his thrusts and the sound of his cock gloriously squelching in and out of Lucifer's ass only fell on deaf ears.
Vincent cocked his head, permitting his cock to reach his peak while reaching to grab Lucifer by the throat, cutting off his air supply. Just as Vincent's cock was spewing forth its load into Lucifer's hole, he finally heard the sound of Lucifer choking on the air.
"Fuck, I am so sorry, Lu! Did I hurt you?" He quickly apologized as he wiped the tears off Lucifer's face and turned Lucifer to face him so that he could finally see Lucifer's stunningly debauched face with tears rolling down his flushed cheeks.
"Shhhhh, it's okay," Vincent said quietly, lightly stroking Lucifer's cheek with his thumb. "You were perfect. " He kissed Lucifer softly on those pink lips. "it's all over now."
“my gift, mine.”
When Vincent woke up, the motel room already felt wrong. The other side of the bed was empty. There was no sign that Lucifer had stayed so vincent lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling. He exhaled slowly through his nose and sat up.
Vincent swung his legs off the bed and stood. He knew Lucifer was gone. It made him angry yet he dismissed it. He dressed without hurry. His hair was disheveled so he fixed it with his fingers until it sat the way he wanted.
He left the motel on foot. His own car was gone taken earlier by Alastor and it was already night. There was no cars driving on the road anymore so Vincent walked.
The city was already deep into night and vincent had never been afraid of nights like this. He knew exactly what kind of person he was walking through it as.
A murderer.
He didn’t stop walking as hours passed
Distance turned into repetition and eventually, the outline of the cabin near the bayou came into view. Vincent slowed only slightly as he approached. He reached for his keys, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. The usual routine followed automatically. Shoes off and jacket removed. Vincent walked toward the bedroom and saw that alastor was there as usual.
Alastor lay on the bed, relaxed, his head tilted slightly toward the door and his arm resting loosely at his side. He looked up at Vincent and smiled sharply, “So where were you tonight, chér?”
Vincent did not respond immediately. He was staring at Alastor who continued smiling, only a little wider this time due to the continued silence from Vincent. Finally, Vincent took one step into the room to respond.
“I-” he began to reply when suddenly Alastor shifted. In a blink of an eye alastor was standing above him, watching him carefully and using his weight to control Vincent's ability to respond.
Vincent had no idea where Alastor had come from, but he did remember feeling as if he was moving quickly, before the sensation of Alastor's hand around his throat became real, holding him tightly enough to the wall to cause discomfort. he then felt alastor's cold, hard steel blade, cutting into Vincent's windpipe, yet the media man remained remarkably calm.
Alastor leaned in as far as possible into Vincent's face, his expression remaining fiercely sinister. “You are not being truthful,” he said, softly. “I thought for certain it was Valentino, but once again that useless man has ruined my instincts by telling me that you have not been going there anymore.”
The knife blade is pressed in a tad more forcefully by Alastor's grasp on Vincent's throat until he had managed to pierce skin at the location just below the throat so Vincent did not move at all following this.
Alastor's smile brightened darkly near the edges and noted, “You came home smelling of apples and honey, and do not try to deny the fact that I know when there has been a change."
“Now I want you to answer me,“ Alastor said, his voice becoming lower. narrowing his eyes slightly more towards Vincent, “who made you so sloppy you forgot about the work I assigned you?”
Vincent stayed still as the knife sat against his neck. He slowly breathed out and said..
“He is your wedding anniversary gift.”
The knife remained locked at Vincent’s throat while Vincent continued looking at Alastor softly.
“You are going to really love him.”
"Will I now?" Alastor’s smile took on a more precise shape. he kept the knife still against Vincent’s neck. “is this why you’ve been very productive lately?” Alastor said finally with a more defined edge to his tone this time. “I was beginning to think you had become accustomed to wasting my time.." he sneered then "so the gift is a man, Who is he?”
“The Devil, My Dear.” Vincent said, adoringly watching how alastor raised a perfect brow.
The brunnete silence continued before he pulled away and hummed.
“If this gift is a disappointment,”
He stabbed the wall and laid a cold look on Vincent.
“i'll slit his throat Infront of you.”