Kinktober: Hazbin Hotel One-Shots

Day 9 - Blood Play/Knife Play (Alastor/Lucifer)

The room was bathed in a dim, eerie glow, shadows flickering across the walls as Alastor adjusted his cufflinks, his ever-present grin stretching across his face. Lucifer stood in front of him, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, his eyes gleaming with mischief and challenge. The tension between them crackled in the air, thick and electric. This wasn't just a casual evening—it was a performance, a game where both players were well aware of the stakes.

"Well now, Lucifer," Alastor's voice oozed charm as he stepped forward, his polished shoes tapping lightly on the floor. "I do believe we've delayed the inevitable long enough. Shall we get to the main event?"

Lucifer's eyes narrowed, a spark of amusement flickering in the molten gold of his irises. "You always did love theatrics, Alastor," he drawled, his voice a smooth, confident purr. "But then again, I suppose that's what makes this so fun."

Alastor chuckled, the sound echoing like an old radio broadcast. "Oh, darling, you've no idea just how fun it's about to get." He leaned in closer, his crimson eyes locking onto Lucifer's as his gloved fingers ghosted over the collar of Lucifer's crisp white suit. "Now, let's not keep our audience waiting."

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, his wings twitching beneath his coat, but he didn't resist as Alastor's hands slowly began to undress him, peeling away layers of pristine fabric. Alastor's movements were deliberate, almost reverent, as he unbuttoned Lucifer's coat and slid it from his shoulders, leaving the fallen angel's upper body exposed.

"Mm, what a sight," Alastor murmured, his gaze flicking over the smooth, pale skin of Lucifer's chest, the faint glow of his celestial veins visible just beneath the surface. "You do make quite the canvas, my dear."

Lucifer's smirk widened, his sharp teeth glinting in the low light. "If you're going to admire me all night, Alastor, I'll get bored. Or is that your plan? Talk me to death?"

Alastor's grin sharpened, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Patience, Lucifer. All good things come to those who wait." His hand slipped into his coat pocket, and in an instant, the gleam of a silver knife—a blade forged from angelic steel—caught the light. Alastor twirled it between his fingers, his smile never faltering as he held it up for Lucifer to see.

Lucifer's eyes flicked to the blade, his pulse quickening, but his smirk never faltered. "You're bringing out the angelic steel? I'm flattered. Didn't know you cared so much."

"Oh, but I do," Alastor replied, his voice sweet and dangerous as he pressed the flat of the blade against Lucifer's chest, the cold metal sending a shiver through his skin. "You deserve nothing but the best."

With a quick flick of his wrist, Alastor dragged the blade down Lucifer's chest, carving a shallow line that gleamed gold as Lucifer's celestial blood welled up. The fallen angel hissed softly, the pain sharp but fleeting, his eyes gleaming with both challenge and arousal.

"Careful, Alastor," Lucifer murmured, his voice low and teasing. "Cut too deep, and I might actually enjoy it."

Alastor laughed, the sound rich and full of dark amusement. "I'm counting on it." He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against Lucifer's ear as he whispered, "But don't worry. I know exactly where to draw the line."

Lucifer's wings twitched, a soft flutter of movement as Alastor dipped his fingers into the glowing gold blood pooling on his chest. Alastor's eyes glinted with something darker as he brought his fingers to his lips, tasting the blood with deliberate slowness.

"Exquisite," Alastor murmured, his voice taking on a dangerous edge. "So pure, so divine. It's almost enough to make me feel sorry for what comes next."

Lucifer's smirk never wavered, though his breath came in shorter, sharper bursts as he felt the weight of Alastor's words. "Sorry? Now that's rich, coming from you."