Masochism Tango | Alastor & Lucifer & Vox

chapter 17

Facing Alastor, you pulled a notepad out of your back pocket and a pen and put the end of the pen between your plump lips, eyes trailing slowly down the yellowed paper. You hummed, feeling the pressure of Alastor's gaze upon your form.

"You have a list?" Alastor inquired quietly, his hands folding in front of his crotch as he sauntered over to a chair in the center of the room. He sat down, resting his arms on the armrests. He reassessed himself of his ultimate goal — he knew he wouldn't be able to get out of his deal with you by playing by your rules, so he had to go by his own devices. Which meant getting the information out of you that Lucifer wants.

He unfortunately had no idea how long it would take for him to get there.

"Mhm," you hummed, and then took the pen from your lips and pointed to the first on your list: cutting. You decided that when torturing Alastor, you would start with the most basic of activities to test his limits, gradually building up to the most excruciating pain you could inflict on him. Your heart flipped in excitement and your eyes glowed. You grinned as you pocketed the notebook and produced a small, golden and pink dagger with the Morningstar insignia engraved on the handle with your magic.

Alastor quirked a brow, spreading his legs and leaning back in the seat, offering a closed-mouth simper. "Well that's disappointing. I was expecting something a little more extreme, my dear."

You chortled, taking closer steps towards him and squatting down to his level. Your slender fingers danced on his forearm, sliding up his sleeve and exposing his bare skin. "Don't question my methods, Radio Demon. It's not like you have a choice in the matter, anyway."

You observed his bare arm in interest, smiling as you pulled of his black glove, exposing his arm to his bicep fully. His hands themselves were clawed and black, creating a gradient effect up to the pale grey of the skin of his arm. His skin was littered with scars, some deeper than others, some a darker shade of tannish grey than the next. The marks were jagged lines and bumpy burn scars, all with their own shapes and sizes and textures.

Alastor's breath quietly hitched as you ran your fingers in a ghostly dance over his scars, feeling the texture and warmth of the scars on his skin, butterflies swarming your stomach at the sensation of such a delectable human soul reacting to your touch so submissively — he was at your mercy, and whatever you wished to do with him, you may.

"I've decided to start small," you said, smiling as you met his eyes. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, rendered silent underneath your touch as you brought the blade up to his arm. "See how much you can take of even the smallest amounts of torture before we move on to the big stuff. Remember—" you broke into a toothy grin, flashing your rows of pearly white sharp teeth, "this isn't all recreational. This is me studying you, because, well, I've never come across a masochist such as yourself. We're a perfect fit, wouldn't you say?"

"Touché, my dear," Alastor mumbled, wincing as you dug the sharp blade into the skin of his arm, dragging the knife slowly across his skin, ensuring not to go too deep. He exhaled deeply, and unsurprised by his small reaction to the cut, you decided to slash him even deeper.

Moving a centimeter or two above the nick, you applied more pressure with the dagger to his grey skin, watching in awe as the skin split and separated and thick, dark red — almost black — blood immediately oozed from the deeper wound in torrents.

And he didn't even flinch. But he did shift in his seat and cross his legs.

Meanwhile, Vox watched in horror as you cut Alastor, beyond overwhelmed and confused by what you were doing with him — were you... torturing him...? So.. does that mean the rumors are true? That you really do kidnap Sinners and torture them in the dungeons of your palace?