When the radio demon loves

Chapter 22 (Memories)

(Normal pov)

Within weeks of his return, Alastor reclaimed his status as the most feared demon in Hell. One by one, the so-called overlords—those who thought themselves invincible—fell under his hand. Their screams, twisted and full of terror, became his latest broadcast, ringing out across Hell's airwaves. Their final moments were a message: the Radio Demon was back, and no one was safe.

The citizens of Hell cowered in fear as the chaotic sound waves rattled through the inferno, signaling Alastor's reign of terror. No one dared challenge him, not anymore. The overlords who had once boasted about their power were reduced to nothing but a gruesome spectacle, their desperate cries serving as a grim reminder of Alastor's cruelty and dominance. The smell of burning flesh and the sound of tortured wails haunted Hell, a dark symphony orchestrated by the Radio Demon himself.

But amid the chaos he unleashed on Hell, Alastor found time for his favorite game: Lucifer.

Alastor visited Lucifer sporadically, never too often but just enough to keep Lucifer on edge. He didn't hurt him. The psychological torment was far more entertaining for him now. He delighted in watching Lucifer's fear rise whenever he appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with that smug, ever-present grin.

"You remember, don't you, darling?" Alastor would tease, his voice dripping with a sickly sweetness. "The way you used to squirm beneath me... The way you fought me at first, but oh... eventually, you stopped, didn't you? Eventually, you just gave in..."

Lucifer's breath would hitch, his body going rigid as Alastor's words slithered through his mind, dragging him back to those nights. Alastor reveled in the way Lucifer's eyes darkened with a mix of shame, fury, and helplessness. It was like a game of control—one that Alastor always won.

"Your skin..." Alastor would murmur, stepping closer, his voice lowering to a near-whisper. "I remember the way it felt beneath my hands. You never could hide how it affected you."

Lucifer would flinch, his wings drawing in close, his eyes flickering with a quiet rage he no longer had the strength to act upon. Alastor, as always, fed on it, enjoying every second of Lucifer's torment. The twisted affection he had for Lucifer was buried deep beneath layers of cruelty, surfacing only in brief, fleeting moments—moments that were for Alastor alone.

Lucifer never responded to the taunts, but Alastor didn't care. He wasn't looking for words. He was looking for the subtle reactions—the clench of Lucifer's jaw, the way his hands gripped the armrests of his throne, the tremor in his wings. Every twitch, every flicker of discomfort was proof that Lucifer remembered. That no matter how far he had come, Alastor still held power over him.

And that, to Alastor, was everything.

"You'll never forget me, will you?" Alastor would purr, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement. "No matter how much time passes, you'll always remember the nights we shared. The way I made you mine between the sheets..."

Lucifer would remain silent, staring forward, trying to hold himself together. But Alastor could see the cracks. He always saw the cracks.

Despite the torment, there was still something within Alastor—a twisted, corrupted kind of love that lingered just beneath the surface. He never said it aloud, never acknowledged it, but it was there. It was in the way he watched Lucifer with a possessive hunger, the way he couldn't stay away for too long, no matter how hard he tried. Lucifer was his, in a way no one else could ever be.

But that was Alastor's secret to keep. For now, at least.

As he left Lucifer's chambers after each visit, Alastor's grin would widen, satisfied with the chaos he had sown. Yet, behind that smile, something darker simmered—an obsession that continued to grow, a longing that even he couldn't fully control.

Lucifer, for his part, could only brace himself for what Alastor might do next.

End of chapter

Next chapter: Monday 12am