#n: civet | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mraprilfools · 1 month ago

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Summary: After Lucifer and Lilith go through a separation, he wanders the streets looking for some sort of company to feel less alone. In the late hours of the night, the perfect man happens to bump into him. He just happens to come with some unfriendly company!

Pairing: Old!Vox(1950's) x Lucifer

Contents: Kissing, Hidden Identity(Lucifer), Sad Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Sexual Themes heavily Implied but not Explicit

Word Count: 11k

A/N: This is the SFW version of my story! If you want the 🌶️ version of this story, I highly recommend reading it on here on AO3! There will still be some spice present in this story but the actual sexual content has been toned down heavily.

One of the first things that Vox learned when he died was that it was never truly pitch black in hell. There were periods when it was lighter or darker but it never became pitch black; a trait of his new home that he came to know quickly thanks to the graveyard shifts he’d pull until the wee hours of the morning working his first job since his death. Unloading trucks carrying liquor wasn’t his favorite, all kinds of desperate souls would often try to trick him or con him out of giving up the prized spirits.

Even in the afterlife, you had to work to stave off the starvation that made you miserable. The desperate would eat the bodies littering the streets with more corpses in the past week alone outnumbering all the corpses Vox ever saw in life. Being thrown into the pits of capitalism wasn’t Vox’s choice but it was better than starving or laying on his back.

Not that he had much confidence in his unique body attracting more than freaks.

Normally there was one other to help him with unloading, a leopard sinner. When he wasn’t trying to get high off some hell drug, that was. Better than nothing. But the man had simply not shown up to his shift, leaving Vox out in the cold moving heavy crates by himself. The glasses rattled each time he hefted up a new box, carrying over a stack to sit inside by the doorway on top of a growing palette.

“There’s no way I’ll get this done before the store opens… better not be MY ass the boss gets on when he comes in.” The words were flung into the uncaring void, Vox was well aware he would get absolutely no slack nor commendation for coming in anyway. But Max would get off scott-free, perks of being the owner’s son!

When he came back around to pick up the next box, he found a group of four men gathering around the truck and peeking inside. A hyena, civet, butterfly, and snail demon by the look of it. Vox let out a heavy sigh, heavily filtered by his poor speakers.

“OI!” He called out to the gang, hoping that might scare them off. The largest of the group, the butterfly spun around and hopped out onto the curb to greet him. Shoulders were hunched with his head cocked to the side, looking the picture-perfect ideal of a delinquent. Just his luck.

“Oh! Looks like the wage dog is around! The… fuck are YOU supposed to be? Is your head a… box?” The insect clicked his tongue, narrowing his glowing red eyes as he attempted to make sense of the bizarre sight. It was a common enough question in his time he was growing exhausted of explaining.

“I’m a television. They’re starting to become commonplace in American homes now, taking over Radio. It’s like a broadcast drama… but you can watch it unfold before your very eyes.” Cyan claws stretched out into a flurry of jazz hands meant to sell a product that he wasn’t even peddling. The entertainer in him couldn’t resist stretching out his leg and putting energy into his voice.

It did not go well.

“You trying to pull my leg? I don’t believe that mystical magic bullshit. Oi, Rands. Get a lot of this guy.”

The civet peeked his head up from a box where he’d wrestled free a bottle of whiskey. Jumping to his feet, he leaped off the truck and came to investigate.

“That’s a television! We should steal his head Pete, we could sell it for a pretty penny!” Rands jabbed his finger excitedly, motioning to Vox’s head. Dread welled in Vox’s chest, his heels clicking as he took several steps back.

“Shit… really? Is he telling the truth? Styles! Eric! Oi, you two come to hold this fuck down, we’re stealing his head!”

“His head? Won’t that… kill him, Pete?” The hyena spoke. The last two were already starting to form a semi-circle that forced Vox to draw toward the building door. Getting mugged in hell wasn’t a rare occurrence. It was hell! But having his head stolen? Kind of on a whole different level.

Vox threw up his hands, drawing back toward the store. “Come on now! I have a rather DIRE need of my head. It’s bad enough you’re going to make me lose my job stealing from the truck. Can’t you at least leave me capable of looking for a new one…?”

One of the things that was hard to nail down with his new face was how to put on a charming smile to best disarm the people around them. A skill that Vox was still struggling to nail even at this point. The group of men stared, sputtered, and shared looks as they broke out into taunting laughter.

“Look at the picture box! It’s smiling like a comic character!”

“Waaah! Creepy.”

The smile fell quickly when he realized it had the opposite of his intended effect. The speed of his back steps increased. When the doorway was within reach, he quickly whipped around in an attempt to escape through the door. He couldn’t even get two steps before the butterfly grabbed the back of his coat and yanked him back. Vox leaned his head forward to prevent it from smacking against the concrete, tucking his hands beneath to further act as a cushion.

The blood-red sky looked beautiful tonight. A shame Vox couldn’t appreciate it with four men towering over him with ill intent. Yet, he’d been so beaten over the past few months he could hardly feel anything but self-pity for himself and apathy for his situation.

If he lost his head, would he eventually regenerate that, too?

How long would that take? A few weeks. The worst of it was how… rough they were when those hands laid themselves on his head. The heel of one hooligan dug into his chest while he was yanked forward. Thick cords making up his neck made it something you couldn’t simply yank off but it DID hurt. When one man couldn’t get it free, a second wrapped an arm around their body and joined in the venture.

The other two parked themselves onto his legs. Vox tried to clamp down on his head while his neck was being stretched out. His jaw, neck, shoulders, everything began to scream like it was on fire, and his hands only uselessly scratched at the air while the men avoided the dangerous arc. Sparks flew as connectors and ports started to come loose.

“Fucking hell! This thing is ATTACHED!” The hyena barked. The butterfly he clung to grit his teeth, the wings on his back smacking against his friend's cheek while they flapped with his resistance.

“YEAH, it’s my fucking head! It’s as attached as your goddamn lim-- FUCK OWOWOW! Can’t you at least KILL me first before you yank my head off?!” Vox snapped back. He was regretting his earlier apathy. The pain and ringing in his head was starting to become unbearable. He summoned up what stores of electricity he had in his body, light blue bolts of electricity danced upon his skin and flesh, arching toward his extremities. The initial pain of thousands of volts in their hands forced the gang to yank their hands away, and that was Vox’s chance. He immediately shot to his feet and shoved the civet aside to make room for his escape. Narrowly escaping a mass of hands trying to latch onto his coat a second time, his long legs carried him down the street.

“OI! Get back here!”

“That’s our fucking meal ticket running off! Fucking get 'em’!”

The early mornings meant that the only people up were the worst ne’er do-wells Hell had to offer. Loan sharks were giving somebody the shakedown, he passed by a shanking in progress, and even a couple who was in the middle of fucking right out in the open. He almost ended up tripping over one man’s arm, initially thought to be detached until he realized the man was simply groggy and coked out of his mind.

The sound of footsteps pounding against the pavement was gaining, the fastest of the lot coming treacherously close even with Vox’s head start. Vox made a quick dip and dive into one of the alleyways, jumped onto a fence, and climbed it. The iron clattered as his weight smacked against it, ringing with each new hand that followed behind him. Only courage and desperation had him taking the fall on the other side. Instead of taking the leap, the butterfly was lifting the smaller men up and over the fence. It was only thanks to the smaller members' hesitation he found his feet again on wobbly footsteps. Vox turned another corner only to bump into a significantly shorter sinner. His whole body fell forward, catching himself by his hands on the concrete with a blond-haired man pinned beneath him.

It was the most beautiful man Vox had seen in his life. Pure white alabaster skin, apple red cheeks, golden hair, and ruby eyes in a pool of yellow. The pure white coat he wore was something Vox was almost certain he could never afford. His first thought was that he might be a noble.

“Who are…?” The man beneath him spoke, swallowed in his throat when Vox was yanked right off him by the large butterfly sinner. The near angelic beauty scooted back and sat up watching as the four gang members circled the stranger who knocked him over.

“Finally! Careful, we don’t want this asshole zapping us again. Maybe we ought to take his advice and kill him first?” The hyena spoke. The snail reached into his circular shell, tossing a jagged knife over to the man who suggested it. A manic smile spread over the muzzle of the canine, first pointing that glittering point directly at Vox’s neck.

“I ought to carve this neck of yours, asshole. If you don’t struggle, we can even make this quick for you alright? So hold still.” Vox could see it in the way the hyena’s pupils dilated. He enjoyed the act of killing. The three other faces with their crescent smiling eager for his death felt… familiar. The old faces of his mother, father, his brother all laughing while he desperately did everything he could to live. He had no allies, but that only made him want to fight even more.

Vox didn’t say a word, refusing the hyena the satisfaction of his fear. When the dog realized he wasn’t getting it, he clicked his tongue and shoved the blade forward. The point pressed against the bright yellow woolen fabric around his neck, inching close to the bobbing Adam’s apple beneath.

“Good night, fucker!” The rank breath of the hyena misted against his screen. That was Vox’s sign to shut his eyes tight, bracing for the no doubt messy cut into his throat.

…

When the flash of pain didn’t assault him, Vox peeked one eye open finding an ashen hand clutching the blade. The shorter man he’d knocked over earlier caught the fisted weapon and twisted the man’s arm until he was brought down low to his knees.

“OW! Fuck Shit! Shit shit! FUCK! Get this fucking… PANSY the fuck off me!” The ruffian attempted to shake the hand off, but the other sinner’s strength was so absolute he could only shake his arm. First muddled confusion, then panic settled in as he smacked the first with his free hand. The snail sinner immediately tried to wrap his arms around the small sinner, but he had simply ducked and knocked him off on his feet. The hyena was tossed right into the butterfly and the Civet was knocked over by something Vox couldn’t even see.

In a span of a couple seconds, the four men that had been harassing him were laid low with the stranger still standing tall. The smile he wore was so wide and friendly, that Vox struggled to believe the man could be in Hell, or even real.

“Heeeeey there! Hope you don’t mind me getting involved. There’s a lot I can tolerate but watching a man getting stabbed five feet in front of me isn’t one of those.” Lucifer removed the large top hat on top of his head, bowing.

“Oh. Not at all...” Vox mumbled, his dark gray pupils scanning to watch the quartet as they rose to their feet. A couple of them rolled their shoulders as they re-circled the smaller individual. Without giving them the time of day, he simply offered his hand to Vox to hold him up. Warily, Vox watched the largest stand directly behind the angelic beauty.

“Watch out!” Vox cried out as he watched the sinner wind his arm back and swing his fist for a heavy slug for his cheek. His ‘savior’ merely canted his head to the side, catching it without flinching. The butterfly was the only one to feel anything, falling over to his knees clenching his fist. At first, Vox had to doubt his eyes. The hyena wavered, still clutching the knife in his hands. With a little whispered encouragement from his other friends, he attempted to jab the knife into Lucifer’s back.

Instead of the dull sound of steel cutting through flesh, the harsh clang of metal shattering assaulted his senses. The hyena’s hands trembled in disbelief, staring at the handle and the broken blade still attached to the hilt. Panic settled in with the group, their bodies twisting to make their grand escape like the devil was on their tails. The useless hilt was left at the scene of the would-be crime, falling into a crack in the sidewalk where a puddle of acid rain collected from the recent deluge.

“Well, come on! We don’t want to stand out in the middle of the road forever do we?” The stranger asked, getting tired of waiting. Vox’s mouth hung open, unable to answer initially. The brilliance of that smile was throwing everything off. He stretched out his hand to carefully take the strangers. He didn’t even hesitate to meet Vox halfway, grasping his hand tightly to tug him back onto his feet.

“Thank… you,” Vox muttered under his breath.

The stranger chuckled, flushing a little. He looked so… cute and darling at that moment Vox found it nearly impossible to see him as the same man who easily took out four thugs in front of him.

“No need to thank me! If I simply walked away while you were getting assaulted in front of me, well… I’d feel like a hypocrite y’know?”

“Well… Hell is the place to find hypocrites but I’m going to be glad I found the one man in hell with some standards for himself,” Vox confessed, including himself in that lot. He would have easily walked away and let this pretty blonde boy get destroyed if it meant saving his ass. “My name is Vox by the way.”

The man jumped in place, rubbing the back of his neck as he started to laugh nervously.

“RIGHT! Names! You do names when you meet people. I have a name! A VERY good name too.” He insisted, holding up a finger like he wanted Vox to wait.

“Which is…?”

“Lucifer! Luci for short! My parents thought it’d be REAL funny to name me after The Morningstar.” The man made a looping motion near his head with his eyes rolling to match the gesture. “Can you believe I was still the favorite? Bet you can guess how I got murdered! Nice to meet you Vox.” Ashen hands brushed back the golden bangs fallen over his face. Vox felt certain that name to be an alias. He had a few reasons for suspecting such a thing. One was that this guy was secretly an Overlord, but Vox quickly dismissed that. The other was that he was worried Vox was a creep or… he was married and looking for a gay fling. The way he was so nervous was making him lean into that guess.

“I should get back to work. I was in the middle of unloading a truck… need to stop anyone from stealing everything before I get fired.” Vox thumbed toward the alleyway, with Lucifer’ standing on his tiptoes to look down the alleyway. The very dark murder alley. Friendly! Lucifer followed the motion of his thumb, then turned his attention back to Vox.

“HEY! Uh-- y’know it looks pretty scary! How about I stick with you a little longer to make sure those guys don’t come back huh?”

Vox’s face glitched for a second, flashing into a blizzard of static. “Uh... Why?”

Lucifer tucked his hands behind his back, rocking back and forth on his feet.

“Beeeecause… I just don’t want to be alone tonight. I’ve had a… hah! Rough day and I don’t feel like going to a bar. I kinda just want somebody to talk to.” With a clearing of his throat, he tapped two fingers together. “But you look like you’re having a similarly awful day, so you seem like the kind of company I’m hoping for.”

“Then yeah, sure. Graveyard shift is boring as hell alone.” Vox agreed before he got too into his rambling. Lucifer blinked owlishly, like he didn’t expect that answer, his pupils growing as wide as saucers.

“REALLY?”

Why was he so cute? Vox coughed to dispel the odd pressure on his chest, tugging on his collar.

“Yes, really. This way Luci.” With a nod of his head to the right, he took the lead. Lucifer trailed right by his side, making it NO secret the way his eyes took in the sight of the man beside him with keen interest.

Vox felt extremely sure that 'Luci' was a married man looking for a gay fling now and was appraising him. It was a good thing he didn't have enough of a conscience to care- the guy was pretty enough that he was halfway considering it. The only problem was...his own body.

“So Luci, what’s been bothering you tonight? Something you want to talk about?” Vox broached the subject, wanting to keep the awkward silence at bay.

Lucifer jumped, breaking out into a nervous laughter. “Oh! That uh…! Well y’see! Some things have been going bad back at home. Sooo I needed to get out of the house for a while. I’m feeling kind of sort of really lost right now. I was originally going to a friend's house, but then I remembered that I hadn’t talked to them in… a long time. So I thought that would be extremely awkward! Like...” Lucifer held out his hands, miming the scene.

“HEY there buddy ol’ PAL! It’s Luci! Yeah, I haven’t returned your calls or… even texted you back in like ten years! Can I crash at your place for a week?” The strain of those pearly whites did admittedly make Vox feel sympathetic. He was just as awful in keeping his relations. He could never be sure who liked him.

“That DOES seem awkward. So you were...” Vox cleared his throat, trying to test the waters with the other man. “Trying to find a place to stay tonight…? And some company?”

It took a moment for Lucifer to process that question, taking so long Vox wondered if he’d perhaps gone too far.

“You’re right. So I’m searching for it in a stranger who I’m hoping might be as lonely as me! What about you Vox? Do you have family or anyone to spend the Holiday with? It’s almost Sinsmas.”

Vox opened his mouth to speak, knit his brows, and shook his head.

“No, not since I died. I’ve only been here for a few months, and I’m pretty convinced my wife went to Heaven so I’m here alone.”

“She died before you?”

“Yeah… she died years ago. Illness.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Lucifer rubbed his sleeve, sucking through his teeth.

“So-- I’m glad I have some company. You saved my life so… least I could do is keep you company yeah?” Vox reassured the smaller man, patting him on the shoulder. The touch initially surprised the angel, making them jump from his touch. Vox quickly yanked his hand away. “Oh! Sorry-- I keep forgetting I have fucking stabby hands now. It’s inconvenient most of the time.”

Lucifer quickly shook his head.

“No! No not at all, it just surprised me!” Lucifer insisted, putting far too much cheer into his voice. He snatched the hand from midair, cupping it between his hands. The act immediately brought a faint white color to Vox’s screen, watching with wide eyes as he handled the hand without fear. He didn’t even flinch while his finger traced one of the blades. “Sinner’s bodies DO take all shapes. You must have done some cruel things with these hands.”

A nervous laughter rang out from Vox, a guilty smile plastered on his screen. It did send a pang of pain to Lucifer’s heart. Free will and this man chose to use his hands to hurt people until that was all he could do with them.

“And I guess you must have been so beautiful you enchanted everyone to their deaths. The ladies must love you.” Vox mused out loud. The bold compliment caused a golden color to rise to Lucifer’s face. He quickly let go of Vox’s hand and laughed nervously.

“Something… like that yeah. They call me a betrayer, and I’ve run off with a man’s wife. Pretty fitting.”

“Hmm… I can see it.” Vox confessed as the two rounded the last corner.

When he returned to the truck, he found everything seemed to still be around. The missing bottle was… something he could pass off as a miscount on their behalf or something. Lucifer hung around outside, watching with wide-eyed curiosity as Vox lifted boxes to carry over to the palette nearby.

“What?” Vox asked him as he passed by the smaller man.

“You unload that WHOLE truck by yourself?”

“Normally no. But my co-worker called out. I’m getting what I can get done before I clock out. I don’t love this place enough to stay past my shift.” Even if his boss would yell his ear off for it. Fuck him. He wasn’t paid enough to work overtime.

“I could help...” Lucifer offered. Vox hung his head, trying to suppress the laughter. He appreciated his help, but he did NOT look capable of lifting boxes that heavy.

“You just wanted somebody to talk to right? I got it. If you got hurt, I’d be in deep shit. Having you around to dissuade those assholes from coming back is more than enough.”

Lucifer pulled back his sleeves, hopping into the truck moments later. With his hands still occupied, Vox was helpless to watch him as he picked up a stack of crates all by himself. Not just one or two, but three that he lifted with extreme ease. Vox’s own digital eyes took up his entire screen, watching in abject shock as he strolled out of the truck. Lucifer knew what he was doing too, the cheesy smile on his face was meant to insult his expectations. With nervous laughter, Vox set his box down and assisted Lucifer with his trio.

“Great things DO come in small packages.” Vox mused with a shake of his head.

Lucifer puffed out his chest, rubbing his knuckles against his chest. “It’s easy to underestimate me, but you’d be surprised by the kinds of things I can do.”

Vox passed by, stepping back into the truck to pick up the next crate. Lucifer trailed behind him, tapping Vox on the shoulder before he lifted the crate.

“Big thought!” Lucifer began. “I can’t pick up more than three because they’ll fall over! What if we combine YOUR height with my amazing strength? I bet we can get way more than three! Let’s try four or five!”

Vox wondered if this man might be insane but he shrugged it off and decided to give it a shot. With Lucifer’s help, the daunting task had become far easier. Most of it of course turned into him helping balance crates while the shorter man lifted them without breaking a sweat. Four or five didn’t even make a difference compared to the initial three. In terms of time, they were still far behind the usual schedule with the near murder earlier that day but Vox found Lucifer to be far more pleasant company than his co-worker.

Prettier too.

“So Luci...” Vox began as he was in the middle of the actual meat of the job: Stocking the shelves! Routine and methodical work that Lucifer assisted in another nearby corner of the store. It was a simple task of lining the bottles neatly on the shelves.

“Yeah?”

“What kind of things do you like to do for fun?”

Lucifer nearly dropped the bottle in his hand, bouncing it between his hands to catch it in the cushion of his thighs. Lucifer jammed the bottle back onto the shelf.

“Oh! Y’know, normal things. I like to make toys, tinker, pretty much anything crafty. That’s what makes me happiest. Usually animals, ducks are my favorite. But I’ve made model kits, dioramas, and even a big project of a model town! It’s my pride and joy!”

“That sounds… adorable,” Vox admitted. “I think I’d like to see them one of these days Luci. If we end up becoming friends that is.”

A golden color rose on Lucifer’s face again, his shoulders turned so his back was facing Vox. Friends? with a Sinner?! It felt implausible. But to have a connection outside of his family? It was tempting.

“What about you Vox?”

“I… didn’t have a lot of time for hobbies, honestly. I was a career-driven man. But when I did have time, I liked movies. I’ve always wanted to direct and act in them myself! But I only managed to become a news anchor. There’s something… appealing about being able to become somebody else for a few hours. Then… the usual pleasures a man enjoys. Alcohol and women.” And men.

Lucifer sat back, taking in the information of the sinner. The box by his side had already grown empty. He picked up the empty crate to swap it for a new one. “Movies? I’ve only seen a couple of those. What do you like about them?”

“Well--” Vox started, sucking through his teeth. “At first it was-- a way to get somebody's attention. My mother was always fond of those radio dramas. If I was one of those figures, I thought it’d mean she’d finally be looking at me too. It-- didn’t work of course. But at least I found my love for them.”

Lucifer stopped in place. When he looked a little closer, he could see how lonely the other man felt. A pang of guilt stabbed Lucifer in the heart. It was much easier to think of Sinners as pure evil, but this one was far too sympathetic. He fucked up, but he was not completely awful. The way Lucifer wanted to see himself.

“Well if you ever make it on the big screen, I’ll be the first in line to see you! We still have theatres here. I don’t see why you couldn’t be an actor here!”

The illumination in the man’s screen shone more brilliantly, his smile unable to meet his eyes as he smiled. The last bottle of the batch was set on the shelf, with an empty box sitting beside him. “We’ll see. I’ll have to get out of this dead-end job first. I also don’t have a… face anymore so it’ll be a lot harder to play a leading role. You can cheer for me when I show up as an extra.”

Lucifer set the crate in his hands down, giving Vox his full attention. It was his turn to speak.

“Your face was handsome enough that those men were trying to steal it earlier! I wouldn’t give up so soon! You haven’t been down here long right?”

Vox raised his shoulders. “Three months about.” He answered.

“You’ll see, the standards of beauty are different down here. We have people taking on the traits of animals, insects, and inanimate objects like you. We have people through more periods than your own who all find different things beautiful. I---” Lucifer cleared his throat, tugging on his collar. “I come… from a time when it’s not weird for a man to find another man handsome. And I think you’re… kind of cute.

Lucifer put on a fragile smile, stretching his hand to lay on top of Vox’s. The sinner swallowed as his gaze danced between the hand resting on top of his and the golden-haired man. There was a long period of silence and hesitation.

“They beat men to death where I’m from. It’s an unspeakable taboo, one that would cause you to lose everything if anyone found out. What’s… it like in hell?” Vox asked, leaning a little closer.

Lucifer took in a deep breath and looked around the store. Checking to see if the two were truly alone. He crawled forward until his hand settled on Vox’s thigh. Vox’s screen immediately fizzled into static, electricity sparkling from his antennae. Like a deer in headlights, he stared at Lucifer who had not moved an inch since.

“In Hell, the powerful make the rules. Is it something that interests you?”

Vox laughed nervously, with another blush flashing across beneath his eyes that spoke of his guilt. He stretched out a claw to brush the back of his hand over the porcelain cheek of the angel. They traced over until it reached his golden coif.

Lucifer crawled forward, setting an ashen hand on Vox’s chest until he fell back and hit the shelves. The bottles all rattled, and Lucifer shot his hand out to stop a whiskey bottle from falling over. Without fear he pressed his face against the glass, laying his lips on top of Vox’s. The world went completely silent, save for the sound of the glass rolling across the floor.

Lucifer sighed against the strange buzzing sensation dancing along his lips as those large wants came around his waist. So much smaller than the sinner, it was so similar but different to the large woman who’d been his wife for millennia. The tickling sensation of those pricks running along his back earned a sigh that Vox swallowed as they pressed their lips tighter together.

Like being pulled under a current, Lucifer felt like he was drowning as his body was held tight against the larger man’s. The hard crash of his hand clutching the back of his head had a passion and fire in it that reignited the coals that he’d thought died in a slowly decaying relationship. Lucifer straddled the hips of the taller man. Only the need for breath could stop them, with the heat of their breath playing against one another while their foreheads pressed together.

“I’ve not been kissed like that in hundreds of years. Your wife must have been incredibly lucky to have you.” Lucifer growled, brushing his fingers against the cherry-wood finish of his head.

“Aha… I hope she thought so at the end there. I’ll never know now. But-- I keep thinking the same thing. No matter what angle I look at you from, you’re more beautiful than a marble statue. You’re a work of art, I can only imagine what you look like with your clothes off.” Vox’s fingers wandered over to his jacket, pushing past to brush his palms over his chest. Lucifer sighed, feeling a burning fire in his groin.

“That could be arranged for a night.”

One night.

With the most beautiful man he’d ever laid eyes on? He’d happily risk getting killed for that. But words weren’t functioning for him right now, he was struggling to keep himself operational when Lucifer was still so close. He could see the beautiful snow-white skin down the collar of his shirt. He was small but feisty. Nothing like the larger delinquents he liked to play with on earth. Vox felt certain it was Luci who had all the power here.

His claws settled around the back of the angel’s head and pulled him closer. Their lips crashed against one another. This time all the pretenses were gone. Lips danced and pressed against one another. Vox wrapped his arm around the smaller man, pulling his smaller frame against his body. Brushing his hand over to feel along his sides, his hips, over his butt where he clenched and squeezed.

In response, Lucifer slammed Vox harder against the shelf, forcing his tongue to slip past his teeth and explore the cavern of his mouth. A bottle fell from the lowest shelf, clanking as it rolled across the hard floor. Vox’s body jolted, shocked by the initiative the other man took. But lust was pulling him under. His claw dug into the angel’s shoulder, who didn’t even flinch. It was only because Lucifer allowed him that Vox could push him off, his face a wild shade of light gray swallowing the space beneath his eyes.

“Wait-- I have a job to do. I’m already behind as it is, can’t we wait until after my shif-- MmhH!”

Lucifer silenced him with another kiss, already pressing his hand over the jacket that covered Vox’s body. He lay his palm over his chest with only the promotional tee shirt underneath to feel the firm muscular chest beneath. A mix between a groan and a sigh escaped Vox’s lips when Lucifer hiked his hips to grind his butt against Vox’s groin.

“I’ll take care of it, I promise. I have a few tricks up my sleeve, all you need to do is...” Lucifer sighed, tracing his fingers underneath the screen. Vox followed the graze of his hand. Electricity shot up, sparkling overhead.

“L-Luci...”

The sound of his own name on another’s lips sent an electric tingle up Lucifer’s spine.The Adam’s apple on Vox’s throat bobbed; a pretty little sight that inspired Lucifer to trace his finger down his throat. His teeth came to clamp down on the side of Vox’s neck shortly after. It wasn’t blood and flesh, but wire and electricity that sparked when he bit down. The crackling in his mouth shocked him so much that he pulled away.

“S-sorry. I wanted to warn you… my body’s a little strange. Besides...” Vox nervously pushed Lucifer away by the shoulders. Keeping him at bay with his hands clutching his shoulders. “You’re just wanting somebody to make you not feel so alone right? Pouncing on a stranger in the middle of a liquor store won’t make you feel any less lonely. All you’re going to do is… make yourself feel more empty than before. We should-- reaaally stop this. After I lost my wife, the first thing I did was try to sleep with as many women as possible. Each one felt like… it only drew me further apart from her. It’ll only make you feel better temporarily.”

It felt patronizing for a man not even a quarter of his age to give him this lesson. But Lucifer had never known a world where his wife wasn’t… his. With a sigh, he hung back brushing his fingers through his hair. Sulking, he confessed.

“I just… want to feel like somebody wants me. That somebody likes me. That I’m not… too much.” The mortifying confession came with a cautious flick of his eyes meeting with Vox’s. How embarrassing to lose himself in front of a sinner. One of the types of people he spent so much time and energy hating. Yet here he was clinging to him for a distraction because the heartbreak was too much. So why was the sympathy in his eyes only making him feel worse about himself?!

“Well… I don’t know you very well Luci. From what little I do know, I do like you. You are also...” Vox cleared his throat, blushing harder. “The most beautiful man I’d ever laid eyes on. I’ll kick myself for this later, I don’t normally get a conscience at these times. The old me would have you bent over the counter fucking you right now.”

Lucifer sputtered, covering his smile beneath his hand. “And what stopped you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I don’t want you to know the same pain I experienced. If I can save you, maybe it might save me too, in some way.” Vox sat up a little straighter, jostling Lucifer in his lap in the process. Lucifer held tight to Vox’s shoulders, sliding close until his face came close to Vox’s screen again. Lucifer could hear him gulp again, his eyes veering away.

Lucifer sighed and lifted himself off of Vox’s body. Lucifer didn’t miss the way Vox breathed a little easier then, or the obvious tent in his pants that he tried to hide immediately by shifting his body away. Lucifer did his best to not look a little offended, tugging on his clothes to put them to rights.

Sinner’s wanting to save somebody? All they did was hurt people. The more he spent around this one, the more annoyed he got with the idea that they might be complex. If they were complex even when they were suffering in hell?

Lucifer… wanted to get to know Vox better. To unravel the mystery, so he obliged for now.

“Alright. I’ll finish putting everything up over here! Don’t worry, we’ll be finished long before your shift ends. I promise!” Lucifer promised. Vox managed a thin smile, tugging on his clothes to put it back to the right. Not that it could eradicate the memory of that firm wall of muscle that Lucifer felt when he put his hand there. It was so unlike anything when he touched Lillith. Now that he had a taste… well now he couldn’t get it out of his head.

“Don’t work too hard. I mean, you aren’t getting paid for this. If you simply sat and watched I’d be happy to just talk to you.” Vox groped around on the floor, searching for the bottle that went rolling elsewhere. He found it… underneath one of the shelves. Falling flat onto his chest, he stretched out his claw trying to grope around for it.

Lucifer felt bad leaving the man with a biology not friendly for this task to do it, but it was the perfect distraction!

While Vox was distracted, Lucifer pulled up his sleeves and used magic to levitate the flurry of bottles whisking them to the appropriate shelves almost instantaneously. While Vox’s claws struggled to clasp around the glass bottle, an orchestra of glass and liquor flew about arranging themselves on the shelves.

Once a messy half-filled store with scattered boxes became neatly arranged with the products lining the shelves as if by their own accord. The containers all come together in a neat stack by the backdoor.

“Got you!” Vox proclaimed his victory, snatching the bottle by the neck. Prying himself off the filthy floor, he set the bottle on the shelf, only to stop and look around the store.

“Huh?”

“HUH?!”

In less than a minute, the store with all its empty shelves was stocked. Lucifer was in the corner breaking down boxes by hand. The angel smiled at him, waving. With a slack-jawed expression, he pushed himself to his feet and examined the store twice, thrice over. He was done, early.

“How did--” Vox began.

“I’ve got many tricks up my sleeve you know! I can do a lot more than take care of a few ruffians!” Lucifer answered in a sing-song tone, tossing yet another collapsed box onto the pile. With one hand tapped against the top of his head, he strode up to join Lucifer. Far too many times that night the short man had stunned him with his ability.

“You’re… an Overlord, aren’t you? That’s why you hide your name and how you can… do all this. Right?” Vox asked.

Lucifer dropped the box cutter in his hand, laughing nervously. His hand brushed over the back of his neck, cracking his neck in the process.

“You’ve sussed me out! That’s right… I’m a secret Overlord! Nobody ever expects me y’know?” Lucifer snapped his finger, putting on a theatrical show of spinning in place and waving jazz hands. Vox sighed, smacking his thigh with his hand.

“Well, I’m not going to ask what your real name is. I bet that’s safer for me too right?”

Lucifer dropped his arms, immediately rubbing his left with his right hand.

“Much. You’re… not mad?” Lucifer tentatively brought up the subject, rubbing his arm. For a big scary overlord, he was… a damn natural at hiding that fact. Vox lifted his shoulders and let them fall lifelessly.

“It’s Hell. Everyone’s got secrets and things they want to hide. I’m no exception. You’re not trying to steal my soul or kill me so we’re good.” The gentle smile on his screen felt reassuring. No pressure to be a King, no pressure to be honest, like Vox had given him full leave to be… whoever the hell he wanted to be tonight.

“Well, Luci! Once we toss out these boxes, want to crash at my place tonight? Figure it’s a good way to repay you for your help today.” Vox shifted in place, clearing his throat as he added, “If you’re O.K. with that of course.”

And today? He wanted to be Luci, an unfortunate man who just shared a name with the most hated man in history! For a man who loved arts and crafts, he lamented his lack of creativity when he was spontaneous.

Lucifer hid his smile behind his hand. Lillith was always so confident, commanding, gorgeous in every way, and intimidating with how powerful and tall she was. Something was endearing about how nervous and dorky this man was with a wobbly smile.

“Alright… sure. I didn’t want to go home tonight after all.”

“Cool!” Vox exclaimed, the screen shining a little brighter.

“Cool!” Lucifer agreed, throwing a pair of finger guns. An awkward silence settled between the two of them, with Vox breaking it first to grab the pile of broken boxes.

“I'll toss these! Can you get the crates? Another chance to showboat.”

Lucifer blushed and assisted Vox in carrying the rest of the trash out. While Vox went through the motions of locking up. When the two left the store dawn was already starting to come over Pentagram City.

5 AM was the ungodly hour for the early risers to be getting up for the day. The street was bitter cold; not that Vox could feel it. Lucifer, on the other hand, trembled like a leaf as he followed Vox’s side. The heavy brown coat he wore slipped off of his shoulders and draped over the short man. Lucifer pulled the jacket over to seal in what warmth he could, owlishly turning his gaze to Vox with tears blooming in his eyes.

“Won’t you be cold?”

Vox waved off his concern.

“Nah! I can’t feel it. As long as I stay above sixty I should be fine. Any lower and I might start struggling… but we won’t be out long enough for that to affect me.”

Lucifer smiled, staring at the profile of the sinner he walked beside. He’d seen a wide number of them in his time in hell. Taking the form of countless animals, objects, and plenty of insects. But this man with his strange boxy head was… new to him.

“What… are you anyway?”

“What…?” Vox pointed to himself, arching a brow. “OH! You mean my head?”

“Yeah...”

There was a brief pause until Vox was breaking out into laughter. Lucifer’s face burned hotter, pulling the jacket tighter over his body in mortification.

“You acted so nonchalant around me and even kissed me I thought you found this completely normal! It’s uh-- a Television. You’ve been to the theater right?”

“I have! But they never had those odd boxes at them. There is always a projector and a large screen. Is there a tiny projector inside the box?!”

“No? Kind of? I can’t exactly look inside my head. Back on Earth, there are these devices called a Television! It’s like going to the theater but you can have it right in the comfort of your own home! You don’t even need a guy to narrate what’s going on anymore; you can HEAR the people on the other side.” Vox’s whole screen lit up, taking the opportunity to gush even further.

“I was a TV Anchor! I would give people the news of the day! And of course updates about the World! Which was involved in a massive war at the time. I had a naturally handsome face of course. But the real reason everyone tuned in was my voice and ENERGY I could put into the show.”

Vox pointed to his screen, flashing a toothy smile full of teeth. Lucifer couldn’t say he completely understood, but he liked the enthusiasm the sinner showed talking about his old passion. “So would you say you’re happy you’re a television?”

The question caught Vox blind-sighted. “I… well no. Is anyone happy with their sinner’s appearance?”

“Well… I am.” Lucifer confessed, tugging on his new coat.

“Yeah, you get to exist in hell as the most beautiful thing in creation somehow and I’m a fucking box. Some guys get all the luck.” Vox threw his hands up, smacking his legs in defeat. But the good-natured smile on his face reassured Lucifer he was only a LITTLE salty.

Lucifer drew a little closer, then fell back when something cold fell on his face. He craned his head back, opening his mouth wide when he noticed soft white flurries falling around them. The first snow of the season.

“What is it?” Vox asked. He followed Lucifer’s gaze. “SHIT!” Instead of the gentle wonder Lucifer felt, Vox immediately started speeding down the street. Boggled, Lucifer raced after following in Vox’s footsteps.

“Vox! What’s wrong?!”

Instead of answering him, Vox focused on running faster while his hands tried to block the flurries overhead. Lucifer wasn’t quite so out of shape that a run down the street would knock the breath out of him. But after several minutes of constant running to rush into the first floor of an apartment building, Lucifer panted and heaved while his back leaned against the wall.

It was an old place, which screamed low rent. The wallpaper was old and peeling in places, stained yellow by smoke. The floor beneath creaked when they walked, and he could hear the faint murmuring of screaming in one of the rooms above their heads. Vox was still bent over clutching his knees catching his breath. He lifted a hand with an extended finger motioning for Lucifer to give him one second. The sound of heavy panting filled the air, broken by the occasional cough.

“S-sorry… Luci!” Vox spoke between another fit of coughing. “If water gets into my head it can be really bad! My head runs a little hotter than the rest of me so it just melts when it calls on my head. I want--” Cough Cough “Wanted to minimize the damage.”

Lucifer shook his head, holding his hand to stop his apology too little too late. “That sounds… inconvenient! That means it must be terrifying to go out in the rain!”

“Awful! Hate it! So yeah! This head kind of sucks. Scratch that, this whole body sucks! I’m a machine but I have the soul and mind of a human. I lost my face, my hands keep ripping my clothes, and my body underneath all this is… much weirder than getting shocked when you bite my neck.” The insecurity in Vox’s voice came bleeding through. The sound of panting continued, with Vox shutting his eyes trying to shove away the guilt he felt for venting at that moment.

Lucifer lowered his head, looking at the brown coat draped around his shoulders. He could see the tell-tale signs of duct tape repairing the leather in a hack job. The pockets were the worst, with thin strips lined multiple times until it was more like a Ship of Theseus paradox.

The tribulations of a sinner were hardly something Lucifer ever bothered to take a close look at. But one look at that pained smile trying to push away how much the struggle of his new life was and a new pang of guilt stabbed his heart. He didn’t doubt the man earned his place there, but did he truly earn eternal damnation?

There was a long hallway that led to exactly two rooms and then the other part of the stairs that led to the third floor. It didn’t seem like a particularly large complex, and Vox took them into the one straight down the hall.

The interior was depressing. Unlike the luxurious quarters that Lucifer kept, this man lived in depravity. It was cold even inside these walls, barely much warmer than it’d been outside. None of the furniture matched, the couch had stuffing coming and been patched in places with more duct tape. Lucifer put both coats on the rack by the door, taking off his shoes to tuck them beside it.

Vox followed his lead, haphazardly tossing his shoes against the wall. With a roll of his shoulders, Vox sighed and guided Lucifer further inside. Pointing to the closest door on the right.

“That’s the bathroom if you need to go. I… might have something to snack on in the fridge. You can help yourself. I’ll see if I have a spare blanket for you.”

A small closet in between the bedroom and the bathroom opened, blocking Vox from view. The space was tight, the door almost didn’t even have enough clearance to open all the way.

“That won’t be necessary.” Lucifer struggled to speak with confidence, each step deliberate as he closed the space between the two of them. The linen closet door clicked close, with Vox shooting Lucifer a quizzical look.

“You’ll freeze without it. Trust me, it’s not much warmer here than outside. The insulation in this place sucks.”

The shorter man shook his head, tugging on his bowtie. The fabric came loose until it’d become a long red ribbon with the bow on the end hanging around his neck.

“Not if we share your bed,” Lucifer suggested.

Vox spun around, shutting the door. That same heated look of a blush returned to his face. He motioned over his body to remind Lucifer who he was dealing with. Lucifer came around the side, closing the space between them until Vox was pressing his back against the closet door. It was a comical sight, with how much he towered over the angel.

“D-didn’t you hear me, Luci? This… this won’t help you feel be-- MMM!”

Sparks flew overhead the instant Lucifer’s hand laid over his belly. All the fight, every word of protest the taller man might have was swallowed into silence and a sheepish gaze while those ashen hands laid over his waist, tracing his fingers to explore the curve and dips of his body. His thumbs ran along the hip bone, falling over where the pants kept him from going any further.

“L-Luci?” The name sounded so weak coming from Vox.

Lucifer craned his head back, meeting those owlish eyes. “Let me be an adult and make my own bad decisions Vox. You might not be able to decide if you like me. But you covered me with your jacket just because I was cold, offered a stranger whose name you didn’t know a place to sleep for a night, and kept me from spiraling from the worst day of my life. All I want is to be beneath you tonight, to forget… everything”

The apprehension in Vox’s body melted away. The silence stretched, with Vox finally prying his hands away from the door to reach out for the smaller man. Lucifer flinched, expecting admonishment, hatred, blame, or starry-eyed respect for the king. What he got was a gentle stroke through his golden hair.

“If-- you’re sure you’re O.K. with me. To be honest, I’ve been… hoping I could entertain the thought of a dream tonight too. To at least pretend for a night that I love you, that you love me, that there’s… something still beautiful and fragile in Hell to possess.”

Lucifer leaned into his hand, laying his ashen palm on top of it. It was cold and inhuman, but it belonged to somebody who said they understood him.

“You sound like a poet.”

“Hah… when I was younger, I used to write these plays and dramas for my Mother. I wanted to impress her and inspire her. Then I wanted to inspire everyone else. There were times I wish I were a poet, but all my words on the screen peddled nothing but the propaganda of war and sold lies.” Vox’s fingertips danced across the features of the angel, brushing over the swell of his cheek and the shape of his jaw. The thumb claw pressed against his bottom lip, stealing a kiss. “But I did get good at telling people the kinds of things they wanted to hear.”

Lucifer broke out into nervous laughter. He’d intended to be the one to seduce, but he felt like the ball was being thrown back into his court.

“And what do you think I want to hear?”

“You know! It’s the first time I’ve EVER seen snow in hell. Granted, I haven’t lived here long but they are always saying things like… that has a snowball's chance in hell yeah?” Vox broke into what Lucifer believed to be a non-sequitur.

“Yes?”

“Well! There’s a snowball somewhere in hell right now! A snowball's chance in Hell you and I would ever find somebody who made us feel at least a little less alone. A miracle… Maybe it’s a cosmic sign we were meant to meet each other on this day?” The more Vox spoke, the less confidence he had. The once confident touch faltered with his wavering smile.

It still squeezed at the angel’s heart. As long as he remained Luci… Vox would continue to look at him like this. But one more lie to compound on this night fabricated by wishes and dreams.

“Vox… There's no such thing as fate. That’s all humans say to accept things they can’t control or to make something sound far more romantic than it is. The divine tapestry is many things but… this wasn’t preordained.”

“That’s what makes it more of a miracle, isn’t it? You and I meeting here tonight only happened because of two very unlikely scenarios happening. I got attacked and decided to run down that exact street and bump into you on the one night you run from whatever demons are haunting you. Any small change in our lives would likely have made us miss each other forever. But we didn’t.”

Maybe it was the gentle way he looked at Lucifer in some vain hope that the two didn’t have to be as alone as they thought they were. Or the man was hoping for anything to stave off the incomprehensible loneliness he felt now that he lost his one rock through millennia? He bumped his head against Vox’s belly, wrapping his arms around his waist. Nervously Vox’s claws hovered around his shoulders, unsure if it was OK to touch him. Lucifer leaned into the touch, until he felt comfortable enough to let his hands settle.

The navy blue legs almost stood out, with weaving of light blue on his inner thighs showing that not all of him was quite as human. Lucifer didn’t raise his head, burying his face further into the toned belly, riding his hands up his back until he felt an odd indent in Vox’s back.

“S-shh…! T-those are my ports. I charge from there and also can use them like… another prehensile appendage.” Vox explained.

Lucifer raised his head, applying more pressure there. The man underneath him squirmed, drawing his claws against the door as a hissed breath escaped his screen. “L-Luci...” The sound of the angel’s alias dropping from the lips of a man was so new, so exciting his arms locked hard around the sinner. The ministrations continued, finding another new closed port to trace his fingers around the outline. Vox turned his head, biting on a knuckle of his hand.

“It’s… weird-- and s-sensitive.” He insisted, with another inhale. Ignoring his protests, Lucifer snuck his hand beneath Vox’s shirt and touched it directly. Electricity immediately coursed through his body, sending tingles through Lucifer’s body that would have hurt any human. But they made Lucifer shiver in delight. A devilish grin spread across Lucifer’s face, adding kisses against the bare belly against his face.

“Then you shouldn’t look so cute when I’m touching you.” A long black tail whipped about behind the fallen angel. His teeth tugged on the shirt, peeling it back to reveal the dark skin of Vox’s belly. A sound like a whimper rang from above, further inciting the king. His wife Lillith never got this cute, this obedient for him. Lucifer peppered his belly with kisses, coming close to the boxers. Even if Vox tried to hold back how excited he was by gasping and biting his hand again, the twisted expression on his screen told all his secrets.

Lucifer traced a fingertip along the length, immediately evoking a strangled choke from Vox and another groove drawn in the door. A claw came down hard on his head, cyan blades digging into his golden locks but Lucifer wasn’t dissuaded. The resistance he could give while his legs were shaking was pitiful. Then he upped the ante, sinking his teeth directly into his wide earning a strangled noise from Vox.

When Lucifer raised his head, he found that Vox’s screen had become an odd pattern of black blocks. That was unexpected.

“Vox?”

No answers.

While the man was comatose, Lucifer opened the bedroom door and picked up the larger man. One arm hooked around the back of his knees and another holding his back with the frame of his head tucked against his shoulder, he fell into the angel’s arms. His body went limp in his arms, he was cold as a corpse thanks to being out in the cold recently, but the fans running a mile a minute within his body gave him confidence he wasn’t unconscious.

Lucifer carried Vox into the bedroom and gently laid him out on the bed. Immediately after he clambered on top, positioning his hands on either side of the head and his knees positioned by Vox’s hips. While Vox was unresponsive, he traced the muscled body beneath him. The toned abs with such lean strength hidden beneath the loose-fitting shirt he wore. A physique completely unlike his own. He was excited.

When that monochrome face returned, he was faced with eyes that took up the majority of Vox’s screen. His eyes bounced along the limits of the screen, taking in the sudden change in the environment, and landed on the man hovering above him.

“I’ve seen people go into shock before, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone do that because I bit them. You truly find me that beautiful?” Lucifer wondered, lowering his body until it came flush against Vox’s. His hands cradled the cherry wood finish, his thumbs running along the sides of the box.

The sinner’s Adam's apple bobbed.

“Absurdly so! I keep thinking to myself, ‘I can’t fuck this up’! This guy’s gorgeous, SEXY as hell, and weirdly… interested in me. I’d like to see what he looks like when he’s NOT having the worst day of his life.’”

Lucifer pressed his forehead in the space between Vox’s eyes, feeling the warmth and the static from the other side. The feel of that cold claw running through Lucifer’s hair returned, with him instinctively curling to hug the box.

“You really want me to still be here in the morning?”

A jab of a claw poked his cheek. Vox yanked his hand back with an apology but Lucifer snatched his wrist and pressed the palm against his cheek. Nuzzling into it like a cat, while a smile came over his face.

“You saved my ass more than once tonight and you touch me without giving me weird looks. Even if nothing else, it’d be nice to have a friend in hell.” Vox lifted Lucifer by the shoulder to put some space between them, stealing the angel’s lips in a kiss. He followed the sinner’s lead, brushing lips in a desperate chase to the faint buzz he felt each time they touched. There was a faint prick of pain when Vox’s sharkish teeth bit into his bottom lip, and an electrifying feeling as those large hands brushed over his body without hesitation.

Fingers intertwined, the two became one until the aching cold that made up Vox’s living matched the intense fire burning in the core of The Devil himself. Their hearts beating as one, seeking not only each others bodies but the comfort of another soul in the wild crazy world that didn’t know how to hold back it’s punches.

Unable to face the reality back home, Lucifer had welcome a Sinner to indulge in his body and he sank into a wonderful pit of euphoria and the tenderness reflected in those digital eyes that constantly reassured him that he was the most beautiful thing in all worlds. That he was still worthy of love, that somebody could still crave his company.

When their bodies had been born to their limit, buried his face into Lucifer’s shoulder as the two caught their breath. Nothing but the sound of their breath filling the air for the longest time, with a gentle light of the dawn coming in from the bedroom window.

“I’m… exhausted. I think I’ll sleep like a log tonight. After you go to the bathroom, would you be up for cuddling until we fall asleep?” Vox pushed up his body, pulling out and allowing Lucifer’s legs to fall back against the bed. He could see the wince of pain when his limbs returned to a proper position.

Vox collapsed onto his side, lying at the perfect distance where he could brush the back of his claws against Lucifer’s cheeks. And like some monster, Lucifer leaned into that touch, turning the palm over so he could feel that soothing cold hand bring down the intense heat in his face. The pad of Vox’s thumb brushed over his cheek, a kind of affection he could still remember when he and Lillith were still madly and utterly in love. It was a painful reminder that made him feel more alone than ever before.

Vox was right.

He was so terribly right.

Lucifer shuffled out of bed, shooting Vox one more smile as he left the room.

“You were right, nature calls! I’ll be right back!” He promised, rushing into the small bathroom on the right. The moment he closed the door he pulled back the toilet set and took a seat, burying his face into the palms of his hands.

It felt more real than ever now. He’d done an act he couldn’t take back, he slept with somebody besides Lillith. Got close to a man only to push away the unbearable loneliness in his heart while having no space in his own to return even an ounce of the tenderness Vox had given him tonight. He could feel the chill of those hands touching his hair and his face. The way his eyes turned so tender, or the tender tone of his voice when he let the vulnerability peek through.

In the end, Lucifer ended up spending so long in the bathroom washing his face and going over his thoughts that when he’d finally walked into the bedroom he found the man already fast asleep with his arm stretching out in the spot where he left him. Lucifer sighed and walked over to the side of the bed, pulling the blanket over to cover his body. The window across the room still showed snow flurries falling.

He set his hand on top of the boxy frame, tracing the wood grain watching the rise and fall of his chest. At that moment, Vox’s fingers clenched, reaching for a man who wasn’t there. He bent down, pressing a kiss to the top of his head and his parting words.

“Goodbye Vox. Tonight was… special to me. I’m not the man you believed me to be. In fact… They call me The Betrayer and it’s for a good reason. I wish I could have the capacity to reach for your hand and stay a little longer, but I’m empty. I’ll pray to the Angels you find somebody who won’t steal that tender heart of yours. But I know nothing good stays in hell… because of people like me.”

With a regretful smile, Lucifer used magic to redress himself in an instant and walked away. He looked back, once when he closed the bedroom door behind him.

When Vox woke later that day, he immediately stretched his hand out for a body that wasn’t there. His hand groped the sheets, when he had found it completely empty he sat up and held his head.

“Luci are you still in the bath--”

The daylight streaming in through the window was a telltale sign that the dawn had come and gone. It was the first time Vox had ever seen snowfall in Hell. And like the snow, it brought with it a beautiful memory that melted without a trace. Left alone, Vox sat up and brushed his hands over his bare body. He never slept in the nude, hating the freakish body he’d been given. But he felt beautiful, for one night at least.

“I guess… I’ll never be good enough for anyone to stay.”

#hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin vox #hazbin lucifer #staticapple #applestatic #lucifer x vox #vox x lucifer #vintage vox #old vox #VoxTek Winterfest 2024

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plasticfangtastic · 1 year ago

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Cozy Corner Kinktober. Prompt 6: Public sex, 10: Orgasm denial (sort of) Alt. Prompt: kink 0f your choice-- incest.

Day 3 (but day 1 for moi)

Thicker Than Water.

word count: 4.8K wods

A Homelander x Soldier Boy Fanfiction

TW: Incest, violence, bottom Homelander, bilander, bits of Butchlander and Meave x HL in theory, dark fic, semi-public sex, set during S3 obviously, canon divergent, not proofread.

A/N: this work contains INCEST, the author does not condone or supports incest... this is instead a what-if scenario of what could’ve happened during Herogasm– If this subject matter it's too uncomfortable or triggering plz do not read. if it doesn’t bother you, thanks for reading it! lowkey just wanted to get this one out of the way cuz its the most uncomfortable of my kinktober fics plz read the A/N at the end of the chapter for my thoughts.

Homelander walked the ruins of the once lavish home, the smell of cum, sweat, soot, fire and blood mingling in the air as a twisted version of Macy’s perfume aisle-- instead of overpriced bottles of whale sperm and civet musk– it was this warm animalistic stench tickling his nose. Homelander could hear the moans and wails of the burn victims and smell the sticky remains of some mini-hero wedged in the ridges of his boot.

Standing tall as his comrade laid unconscious on the floor, Soldier boy watched him annoyed, unimpressed at Homelander’s speech– he was no different than any of his old fans, not bothered when the young man got offended at his mockery, he pinned him straight into the wall, barely getting a wince out of the veteran, this was nothing but a tantrum from an overgrown baby in Ben’s mind.

Homelander and him began their fight, it was gleeful– it made Homelander smile, it made him warm, it made him feel painfully alive, so awake, so glad to know his hero may lived up to expectation.

They traded blows, for the first time in a very long time Homelander felt ache, each fistful and low kick more violently and more meaningful than the last, the whiny voice of Starlight urging her friend to leave barely registered as Soldier Boy smacked him below his ribs, the more the beast inside him woke up, the more he wanted Soldier Boy to challenge him, to dare prove him wrong– he was transfixed with the thought of killing him… with the thought of him.

Homelander could see just how handsome he was, the old film cameras didn’t do him justice, the voluminous brown hair, that soft beard and those perfect hazel-green eyes looking down on him, even the sound of his gasp were beautiful.

He threw him against the wall, lifting him up, hanging him like a portrait, the man struggling, his nails digging on the leather of Homelander’s gloves, he stared at him, looked at the heavy fabric wrapping his belated birthday present, he gave himself the chance to mock him privately, undressing him with his literal piercing gaze, the years locked in a tube has not diminished his wonderful physique, he licked his lips feeling his cock trying to make room in his tights-- he squeezed his victim’s neck, wanting to find relief as he killed his enemy.

“You really have me going there…” Homelander spoke.

Soldier Boy chuckled, and with enviable speed he kicked Homelander away from him, he flew back catching himself against the rubble, Soldier Boy had simply wanted the extra height.

Homelander held his stomach feeling a boot shape bruise forming under the padding, he spat, wanting to feel that force once more.

The violence amp-up, somehow Homelander began to lose footing, feeling the rust soaking his teeth, he gave him a blood soak smile, growling as the man destroyed the ground below Homelander’s ear– now he was the one pinned down.

From the moment he had seen him on that grainy black and white footage, he had been in awe– a teenage flame re-ignited as he emerged from that park, his shock had followed him all day creeping on his mind as he hid in his penthouse, he played one of his old movies. He played the dashing hero cleaning house, killing the baddies and rescuing the girl– everything homelander had ever wanted to be as a child, his lips miming the lines matching the cadence of his speech perfectly. He had seen his films dozens of times, he used to re-enact the scenes with his friend when bored, he loved to imitate men like this– he remembered impressing Voguelbaum by doing a perfect impression of Ray Liotta in Goodfellas and Rutger Hauer in Blade Runner but he always lose his approval when he copied Soldier Boy… so he kept it to himself.

He kept to himself how this one scene in th film made him feel… it was a rare shirtless scene, his teenage brain feed him dopamine, whenever he caught that scene he wished to paused the film but he never could, not when the orderly was around, not when the security guards hadn’t doze up– only in the comfort of the dark beneath the sheets could he pause it.

Now he had it live, feeling the heat, feeling his gaze… he gulped… the fantasy not too far from the real world.

“Time out!”

That made Soldier Boy fluster, shaking his head in confusion. Homelander pushed him off, he could not believe this brat had just demanded a time out, he stood up pacing himself and cleaning the soot off his legs, Ben threw himself at his direction but was only met with a bored evasion, he lifted his hands in ‘T’ shape, Ben scoffed, his eyebrows twitching harder than his lips as he tried to speak, Homelander paced himself like a caged tiger but feeling like a wounded deer about to be pounce by a jaguar… the two dancing on the razor’s edge, but Homelander just offered a dirty smirk, acting in control.

“What do you think this is?” Ben said with indignation.

“Not going to fight you… am just trying to think.” Homelander gave himself a minute, his ears picking up on Butcher’s irregular heartbeat, the man still unconscious but so close-by– You’re so much more beautiful in person… even your strength didn’t disappoint… you’re every bit as impressive as I hope you were.”

“Thanks for the compliment, Pal. But you’re not my type.” He wink at him more mockingly than anything– now can we…?”

Soldier Boy was quick to force him into a dance, their battle short-lived as Homelander took the upper hand, their tussling had Ben thinking he was gaining momentum as the man ended on the ground but it was a trap– he quickly set hero in a seated armband, no amount of tapping will get Homelander to stop but Ben felt his muscles and bones clattering and yelping, the burn buried deep into his marrow, the more he handled him the more Ben felt the humiliation, the tense and thick fabric of the younger man scratching at his cheek, Homelander cackling in between sharp wet pants as he forced the man head into his crotch.

“What da!?” Ben panicked, discovering the supes unsubtle secret, pure adrenaline gave him enough force to free himself– are you fucking hard!?”

“I have never been manhandled like this before” he purred, blowing loose strands off his face– It's not gonna go away… so either we call it quits which we know once William wakes up, is not happening. We could ignore it… or you give me… a minute or ten.”

Soldier Boy looked around at the destruction feeling glad and sorry that Butcher was unconscious, wishing he could waltz in and handle this gross motherfucker on his behalf.

“Or I could just keep beating you.”

“I might like that” he chuckled lightly, standing up effortlessly– seems I’m the improvement in all… manner of speaking” he purred lewdly.

Ben scoffed violently.

“As if a spring chicken like yourself knows what the fuck you’re doing.” He remarked, rolling his eyes.

“Teach me then” He rested against a shattered pillar– just an intermission before I wear your skinned face for Halloween.”

Soldier boy could not deny the absurdity of the mind of the world’s current biggest ego-maniac but there was a familiar charm to this... he had done the same in the past, sometimes a pretty face could be found in the battlefield, so why not? In the midst of war he had made love to Countess and many others. Being so close to death made a man eager to feel the warmth embrace of life, his mind lingering to the trenchest, all the death around made him cling to it, made him needy for it, perhaps this was the first time the young man experience the feeling– these people were soft, coddle from hardships, just pipsqueaks in their warm beds, who never would have the misfortune of meeting the rain of bullets, of watching dozens and hundreds drop like flies… so he gave Homelander a proper look– The slightly disheveled man was classically charming, Vought had done a job worthy of a round of applause picking him but from whatever Kansas’s farm they’ve found him– tall, sharp jaw, beautiful cornflower blues, and striking blonde locks… give him a pair of tits and he would’ve been all over that five minutes ago, but he wasn’t too bad either, he had just enough wrinkles around his eyes to add character, the way his smile lines defines his chiseled cheeks, he had no babyface left just an aged boyish charm… admittedly had the younger man been 10 or 15 years older he wouldn’t even hesitate, had he had some salt adorning his temples he would’ve jumped him by now.

He looked back, catching a glimpse of the cracked skull slowly re-aligning itself, his bones ached and he would need a moment to recalibrate, he wasn’t betraying his oath to Butcher he was simply pausing the game.

“Then what are you waiting for?” He said in a deep gravelly voice, breaching the space between them noticing how not much taller he was from the caped Supe, with his boots on they stood near identical– show me that you want it”

He took Homelander’s wrist by force, pressing it right against his crotch, Homelander shuddered, letting out a whispy moan as his finger relaxed under the pressure of Soldier Boy’s vicious grip, he gave him a squeeze feeling the girth under the wannabe cargo pants, just loose enough to provide space inside, he massaged this manhood and now he was that blushing teenage boy discovering himself for the first time, biting his lips as he felt it wake from its slumber.

Soldier Boy softened his grip freeing him, just to give him a little hand as he saw how timid his movements had become. He tried to keep cool but he could feel every micro movement, he could smell his arousal and hear the Supe’s heart rate– it was cute.

Soldier Boy was not missing any points in that department, he was girthy and veiny, it felt heavy under his own hand as he lowered his pants just enough to feel the hot dusty passing breeze on his ass, Homelander licked his lips unconsciously knowing Butcher barely living body still in the room, knowing there were dozens wounded still stumbling outside and still trapped under the rubble not far his area– he could get caught at any moment, his heart thumping at the thought of Butcher dying sight was him on his knees sucking off his enemy, Homelander had no desire to offer the hooligan the satisfaction of misunderstanding, but there he was squatting pushing his hair back like a dainty lady, his lips already parting to let his tongue take the first cautious steps.

Homelander moaned desperately as Soldier Boy shoved his head to let them meet all the way down to the base, his nose tickled by the coarse bush, he tried breathing but only met the salty and rich musky breeze briefly, it took a couple yanks and back and forths for Homelander to match his roughness, his tongue flat and wet undulating as he pulled, tightening his throat as the man forced himself further, sucking with enough force to rip a normal man dick clean off but to put the older man on edge, Ben hissed behind gritted teeth, chuckling as he felt his whole body wanting the pleasure of his blowjob, his hand pulling on those bleached locks as he slobbered into the ground, pulling him away to catch that debase look and dazed eyes filled with pleasure staring back at him, his tongue licking spit and precum off his lips, the young man barely needed a breather, he gave him a wonky smile as a gloved hand gave Ben a magical rush, gliding back and forth on the member pulling the foreskin roughly.

“So you can do more than kiss ass with that mouth”

Homelander growled, didn’t entretain him with a quip– right now all Soldier Boy was… was a talking dildo, satisfying a lifelong fantasy, he pulled him making the man winced but the pain died as he felt that slobbering tongue on his cock, he felt the leather twisting as he focused on the tip.

He would come soon, Homelander was too fucking good at this, whoever had trained him had done a splendid job, that or the man had a demonic oral fixation– his legs shuddered as he felt his balls twitching, his sight turning white when it all stopped. Homelander cackled lightly watching his hero whine and buckle his hips eager to finish but with his thumb and pointer trapping the base in a ring there was no way he would finish, he lifted the cock just for his mouth to give gentle kisses on those heavy swollen balls, he gave them a quick pop in his checks, the man was vocal and it was driving Homelander insane, to hear him, to know it wouldnt take much to make him beg.

“Is not fair if it's just you getting off… though it was your generation that was all about manners, old man.” He whispered as he slowly crawled up, still wanking him slightly, finding a pool of precum lubing his gloves– is not polite.”

“Thought a horny slut like yourself didn’t want a gentleman.” He hissed, feeling his nose crook as Homelander sped up his rhythm with his other hand, keeping his cock unable to cum with the other, it was more than teasing– a lesser man would’ve died by now– but I think you earned being treated like a lady.”

“No, no, no…” he shushed letting himself the indulgance of kissing the man, the other hesitant at first, but he wouldn’t relent, Soldier Boy’s kisses were more than he could’ve ever dream off, the man pinned him against the nearest brittle wall his tongue taking the lead, Homelander needed to breathe for the first time, he was gasping as he felt his silky skin bruise, his hands still working on him and now the pain in his own trousers agonizing– I want to be fuck like a man… teach me a lesson”

Ben growled.

Homelander had no issue taking his pants off, wishing to undress more but they had no real time, more and more people were becoming conscious outside, Billy could still wake up not that the dying bastard could do anything about it.

His ears picking up on some screaming woman just a few meters on the other side of this wall, if she had super hearing no doubt she would catch them, it made him excited.

Homelander had been so distracted he didn’t noticed when Soldier Boy had lifted his hips, it had all been so quick, cursing and thanking his inhuman build as the man shoved two wet fingers inside him, Homelander squealed at the sudden sensation gasping into Ben’s temple as he pulled his shoulder close. Homelander wanted more than the fingers, he wanted that delicious girth inside him, the wet sounds of his accommodating body digging into his brain, it was in the neediness of his whines and moans that signaled Ben that this bastard would take him as he was.

Homelander saw heavenly white as he felt full, small tears forming on his eyes as he felt the blazing heat burn his navel, his hips bucking wanting to force the pleasure, wanting to feel just how much of his body this man could discover and expand, his cock was so hot, so thick… Ben enjoyed the wet velvet walls pulling him in, how happy this twitching body was to welcome him, breaking the walls of his bravado down with shameful pleasure. He was hopeless, Homelander took full advantage of his powers floating in the small space to fuck himself, he was leading this, and Ben had two choices: Remind the bastard who he was messing with, or let the slut fuck himself stupid.

He choice the latter, relaxing as they switched position, Homelander glad to be on top, glad that he could trust without care, feeling his body shrink and grow with every violent swing of his hips, the last time he had ever been able to please his crying prostate like this, had been with Maeve, she had fucked him with so much anger, but no amount of confused love could make that plastic toy feel as good as Soldier Boy’s cock was making him feel. He jumped and moaned as Soldier Boy’s hand began to please Homelander, his movements lazy, there was a smugness on his face that irked Homelander much liek Maeve had done so in the past but right now he was chasing the high, hearing the nameless dying man ask himself what was that noise, Homelander was moaning so loudly, he didn’t care if Butcher heard him, he didn’t care that the stranger was looking back into the mansion-- at his direction.

He threw a callous glance behind , seeing William's body twitch.

Then back at Ben, maybe that’s why he found him so pretty, so delectable… he moved his hands to the other’s neck, squeezing it feeling the muscles cave in but meeting too much resistance for it to break immediately and that smarmy grin still on the hero’s face– that beard reminded him of Butcher... a lesser version of the brit’s.

He closed his eyes, letting himself imagine things, wishing Butcher would wake up, wishing Butcher would facefuck him, thinking of Butcher luscious lips wrapped around Homelander leaking cock, pulling on his beard as he forced him to take it deeper until the older man’s throat milked him.

He leaned forward wishing for Butcher to spread him further, his pussy would take it without worry– why did he have to cheat? Why did he had to fuck it up for them? Why did he have to ruin this thing they had by bringing others into their fight!?

He gasped as Soldier Boy slapped his ass red, he let go of the man’s neck, taking the offending hand, guiding it towards his own neck, Butcher would’ve choked him, given him a black eye if he could, cracked his knuckles down to powder if that meant he would break the other man’s ribs, he would fight and fuck him at the same time– why the hell did he hurt himself for this? So Benjamin would have to try to give him that lost experience… no… not good enough-- he thought.

He pushed the thoughts away with his idol’s cock, feeling the heat grow too much, he knew Soldier Boy was at his limit, he looked down with shining eyes, his expression menacing even when trapped around that neck-breaking vice, Soldier Boy enjoying himself, thinking he had put a collar on this neck for real.

Getting drunk on the poison, he speed up feeling the older man matching him, he let a deep moan escape his lungs, feeling his whole body shudder with adrenaline as his heart thumped inside his chest, feeling the thick heat filling him, Homelander had no break for the older gent was quick to mobilize and jerk him off, glad that the large prick had stayed outside... the boy scout did made him jealous in that department... Homelander came hard, spilling his thick seat all over Ben's hand, feeling euphoric and turning limp just as quick.

For a second caught in the moment, he wished it had been Butcher, That it was his enemy educating him, punishing him, making him feel a decade long of hatred, wanting to reduce him into something cheap, Butcher had promised him ‘scorched earth’ and delivered him nothing but a chinese burn, but this was good… Soldier Boy had lived up to his fantasies, shame they couldn’t make this last all night, or make it better.

They both chuckle, their bodies recuperating and while both men wanted to feel some human touch for a brief second or two neither of them could.

Homelander picked his pants and as if the moment he finished zipping his boots back on he was as if nothing had happened– catching his reflection on a mirror’s shard to make sure his hair was brushed back to perfection, Soldier Boy wished he could have a drink or a puff of a cheap cigar but he fixed his scarf and re-adjusted his gloves, instead.

“So where were we?” Homelander shot him straight into the nearest surface, filling the room with a faint red glow– ah yeah… me killing you.”

Their fight ensued, that desire for Butcher’s punishment faded away as the bastard woke up, tainted by dollar store V, then he brought that stupid twink…

He left angry, what would have been a near perfect evening ruined, the indignation, the humiliation, but at least he had felt something pleasurable before he had his heart shot right thru.

Homelander was unable to rest, still on the phone with that bumbling idiot, trying to help do her own job, he told her to spin it and fuck off, before he could relax the line was quickly busied by somebody else, the concierge seemed a bit hesitant to speak, sounding apologetic as he interrupted his boss evening.

He blushed a bit after the concierge informed him that this mystery caller claimed to be Soldier Boy– perhaps the man had found reason, ditched that lying bastard Butcher and wanted to meet up, perhaps after all the stress… he could get something nice… a nice reward.

“Is this really you?” he said nervously not knowing where to put his hands or unsure if he should look at the phone.

“We need to talk… the situation has changed…” The man spoke with a brooding tone caught on his tongue, something was brewing inside him– look–

Homelander cut him off, not daring him think he had emerged victorious from their altercation but then he started telling a tell, speaking of a penthouse, of a woman, Homelander was confused and slightly grossed out as the man spoke so crudely.

“Turns out Voguelbaum… made a kid… born spring of 1981…”

His voice was dark, something sticky on his mouth, Homelander eyes watered, his gaze staring into the ether, Homelander heart slowed down to almost a halt as Soldier Boy took a deep breath on the other side of the line.

“... what kind of father had you made me into…” he cut himself with a sharp breath– I'm going to kill you.”

Homelander stared at nothing as the line died, his ears and his voice screaming but he just stood there thinking of the word ‘father’...

So here he was standing in front of him, saddened to confess murdering Noir, saddened that Butcher would betray him yet again by bringing Maeve into the room but at least saddled up with him was Soldier Boy… no… his father.

He just wanted to talk to him, to make him understand how similar they were, tempting him with the power and security they could have by standing side to side.

“Unless we kill each other first…” He said coldly.

“Why…b-because he says so…? He’s only human.” Homelander remarked feeling anxious.

Butcher taunted Soldier Boy reminding him that this experiment wasn’t his boy, and that was all that Soldier Boy needed to hear, but Homelander snapped back growling his words.

“Yes, I am your son! I am your blood!” He softened his shoulder slightly– that’s all that matters.”

Soldier Boy felt nauseous, his mouth burning as he swallowed vile. He had nothing to reply to him, frightened by this sight, knowing what had taken place between them, he wanted to both run from him and cave his skull in, but then he brought the boy– he hadn’t expected the boy, he hadn’t anticipated the shaky breaths and palpable anxiety exuding from Homelander either.

“You see… you have a family… you have him… and you have me” He was on the verge of tears, he bit his thin lips trying to stay composed.

Soldier Boy scowled, disgusted, horrified, wanting to burn his skin clean off, thinking of what he had broken, how he had bed his own blood, how this man seemed to not care about what had happened, as if sleeping with him had been nothing but a glimpse to soem alternative reality.

As he took each step forward, trying to control himself, trying not to look at that young man desperate for his approval, trying not to catch a twisted reflection of his old self, he spoke.

“I wish… I wish I had been there… I wish… we could’ve been just father and son…”

Homelander 's teary smile was so genuine, it had no right to be there, Soldier Boy tried to listen to his reassurance, how he almost begged him to be in his life.

“We don’t have to be alone anymore.” Homelander said shakily.

When his shoulder was touched, he began to feel light, relief, his nerves easing momenterily.

“I wish you weren’t so broken…”

Benjamin had come to realize that Homelander wasn’t depraved, he wasn’t some sick fuck persuing him– he wasn’t okay… there was somehting inside him that no longer work… better said never worked… the man was in pain clinging to something where he shouldn’t. Whether or not the young man realized the gravity of the situation, whether he had deleted the memory from his brain, whatever it was… Benjamin couldn’t nor did he wanted to understand, he wanted to erase his mistake, to delete the abomination dressed as man, he wanted to put John out of his misery… to maybe find a kindness in his desire to bury his terrible secret by terminating him.

Homelander was quickly ambushed hearing his son struggle to his side, arguing with Butcher.

“You can’t… You can’t do this.” he struggled to speak.

He looked at the man about to kill him, to the father he had always wanted, he had always needed, he had been a good son already and made his father happy! So why was he so upset? Why did he call him disgusting? Why was he looking at him with such revulsion and hatred?

Had he not been good enough for him?

Why did his father unable to love him like before?

The end.

A/N: personally after all the hype from the cast, crew, Amazon and jensen I genuinely expected that episode to contain HL and SB action but alas that didn’t happen and I wish it had happened bcuz it would’ve been far more shocking/disturbing and insane if a sex scene took place and still included the reveal that SB was Homie’s dad– instead of just the most vanilla czech orgy basement porno out there.

I think herogasm just didn't deliver much in shock, the scene with Homelander finding out that was his dad was the best plus mirrolander but frankly meh episode... no wonder they didn't get the emmy nomination.

#cozy corner kinktober #homelander #personal #my fic tag #homelander fanfiction #homelander x soldier boy #plz read both author's note before killing me #dark fic #sorry esl #soldier boy fanfiction #fyi i will never not write bisexual homelander

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cleolinda · 2 years ago

Text

Chanel No. 5 (1921)

Fresh decant, current formulation, eau de parfum concentration. Quoth the Chanel website:

Since its creation in 1921, N°5 has exuded the very essence of femininity. The abstract, mysterious scent—alive with countless subtle facets—radiates an extravagant floral richness. In 1986, Jacques Polge reinterpreted his predecessor Ernest Beaux’s composition to create a fuller, more voluminous version of the now and forever fragrance: the Eau de Parfum. With its unprecedented use of aldehydes and layers of complexity, N°5 was the world’s first abstract fragrance. The Eau de Parfum draws inspiration from the original Parfum. This floral bouquet, composed around May rose and jasmine, features bright citrus top notes. Aldehydes create a unique presence, while the smooth touch of bourbon vanilla yields an incredibly sensual sillage.

(Unofficially, a list of notes for this current formulation: Aldehydes, ylang ylang, neroli, bergamot, peach, iris, jasmine, rose, lily of the valley, sandalwood, vanilla, oakmoss, and vetiver. I have seen note listings for the original that included lemon, orris root, civet, ambergris, and patchouli, which Jacques Polge may have pared away. Supposedly there were something like 80 components originally, so who knows?)

So, look back up top at my teeth hurting. On March 21st, I tried my fresh decant of the legendary Chanel No. 5 from the Perfumed Court. I had no idea what it was going to smell like, except "aldehydes," and I had no real idea what those smell like, so this was going to be a learning experience all around—

I put a tiny swipe on my wrist and recoiled.

“What the fuck, this smells like soap! This is what it smells like—?!”

A headache thundered in. Agitated, I started writing:

***

Everybody is going to hate me now and I’m in too much pain to care. It smells like Dove. Like somebody bricked me in the nose with a bar of Dove soap. I did a quick google of what notes are in the Dove fragrance (1957?), and, while I didn’t get an official answer, I think the Chanel notes I’m getting in common with soap are lily of the valley (often used in cleaning products), iris (powdery), jasmine ("white flowers" in Dove), sandalwood, patchouli, probably vetiver and rose as well—and then, the “fatty, waxy” aliphatic aldehydes that give Chanel No. 5 a tactile resemblance to soap. I didn't understand what aldehydes were but NOW I DO. Like I can feel them in my nostrils, along with a citrus-peach pleading to get through. A headache so bad that my teeth started to throb emerged within ten minutes. I had an immediate emotional reaction so visceral that I was actually angry, and I have no idea why (in fairness: maybe the headache). I used Dove soap for several years, so there's no reason that something smelling like it should infuriate me. And yet.

It was extremely useful to ask y’all what “old lady perfume” smells like, because now I know: it smells like this. Or at least, this is what many of you described. But because I had no association of what “old lady perfume” or Chanel No. 5 should smell like, No. 5 smells futuristic to me. It smells like the moment Coco Chanel said to Ernest Beaux, make me a perfume "that smells like a woman and not a rose," a mere earthly flower. When Beaux said he was thinking of ice caps, I get it—an abstract that has never known living soil. The aldehydes leapt out of their laboratory beakers and slapped me in the face. This perfume smells like a powder room in a wax museum. This perfume smells like a soap carving of Marilyn Monroe in an immaculate faux fur stole. This perfume smells like something painstakingly concocted on Mars by space colonists who can’t remember what fruit or flowers smell like, but by God, they’re doing the best they can.

I held out for an hour before I washed the perfume off (and even then, it didn’t come off), once I was at least able to smell some ylang ylang and sandalwood fighting to come out from under the aldehydes. Apparently Chanel No. 5 doesn't really get good until a few hours in, but my pain endurance was maxed out by that point. I love citrus and peach and white florals and sandalwood and vanilla! I didn't want things to turn out this way!

Here’s what I want you to take away from this writeup: I had an intense negative reaction to the way the aldehydes combined with my skin chemistry, but I will have the decency to say that Chanel No. 5 is an icon. I understand that it lives forever in our imagination as the only thing Marilyn Monroe wore to bed, although I’m baffled as to why she’d want to. Actually, I’m almost a little in awe of it? No. 5 is one of those master compositions that’s so expertly blended that it smells like a being unto itself, and you can’t quite pick out what must be in it—although I at least thought Guerlain's Mitsouko smelled like a place on earth, unseelie or not. I actually think it’s kind of cool to imagine Chanel No. 5 as a galactic future fragrance, not just “timeless” but untethered from reality, white as a spacesuit; I’d just rather stay on earth with things that actually work with my chemistry.

***

Hey, while we're here: wtf is an aldehyde?

Why, they're organic compounds that Justus von Liebig discovered in 1835! They occur naturally in a number of essential oils, but are often synthesized artificially! The aliphatic subgroup "gives floral-aldehydic fragrances their characteristic impressionist sparkle"! (My brain just spat out, "If it's not from the Aldehyde region of France, it's just sparkling headache.") Bois de Jasmin continues,

Their scent ranges from metallic, starchy and citrusy to green, fatty and waxy (for instance, aldehyde C-11 commonly found in rose and cilantro smells like metal and dirty hair to me, but in tiny quantities it adds an impressive lift and freshness to fragrances).

Speaking of C-11, it appears with C-10 and C-12 MNA in Chanel No. 5. Let's jump over to supplier The Perfumer's Apprentice and look at those:

Aldehyde C-10 (Decanal): "Powerful sweet waxy orange peel like odor."

Aldehyde C-11 Undecylenic: "Waxy, Floral. The classic aldehydic note. Among the most commonly used aldehydes for 'aldehydic' effect. Often used with other aldehydes up to levels of a few percent. Trace amounts give rich natural floral effects."

Aldehyde C-12 MNA: "Fresh, amber, aldehydic, mossy, citrus, tuberose, metallic, waxy, coumarin."

I don't know which aldehyde(s) made me want to fistfight no one in particular, but there's nothing else in the No. 5 notes that would have possessed me with primal rage, so.

Obligatory further reading

I'm not going to belabor the ~legendary history of Chanel No. 5. Smell like a woman not a rose, convent upbringing, fixation on the number 5, iconic bottle, whatever. These articles do a better job of that than I could:

Fashion History Lesson: The Truth Behind Chanel No. 5

History of the Hero: Chanel No. 5

Perennial reminder: Coco Chanel was a fucking Nazi

But (short version) Coco Chanel sold the company to the (Jewish) Wertheimer brothers, then got mad and petitioned to get it back as an "Aryan," only to fail when Felix Amiot (Christian) temporarily held the company for the Wertheimers during WWII. The Wertheimer family still owns it to this day.

Which is a relief, I guess, for all the people who, even today, love the classic fra...

Is Chanel No.5 Obsolete?

Chanel No. 5 – Has it had its day?

CHANEL NO 5 always gets bad results in scent tests yet sells the most

Huh. I keep coming across this factoid that nobody likes Chanel No. 5 in tests nowadays if they're not told what it is, though I don't have a hard citation for it. There are lots of theories as to why, and any of them might be right: Our tastes have shifted towards lighter fragrances. Our tastes have shifted towards sweeter fragrances. It reminds us of older generations, and naturally, we seek out our own, contrasting styles. Chanel No. 5 was meant to smell "clean," but our idea of "clean" has changed (sure enough, I use a Dove vanilla-shea body wash instead of the bar soap now). We now wear entire Fragrance Wardrobes of niche perfumes rather than The One, The Only, The Soap Up Your Nose—

But then I realized: I don't actually know what The One, The Only, Now and Forever smelled like before 1986. Apparently the original musk and civet notes stood as a counterpoint to the soapy aldehydes, but they also gave some wearers an unpleasant "urine" note (which is a wild irony for something famously "clean"). But even at the worst of my headache, I didn't get any of that. Musk isn't even listed in the 1986 components. Rather, Jacques Polge "boosted the core with a powerful woody backdrop, making the scent announce itself and engulf space. Very 1980s indeed."

There it is. I don't know what the vintage Beaux composition (which you can still buy secondhand) smells like, but I was trying the big hair and shoulder pads formula. And I avoided "real" perfume most of my life because the big bombastic scents I grew up around gave me headaches. "Engulf space"—that fight-or-flight reaction I had to Chanel No. 5 might have been a kind of olfactory claustrophobia, even.

Chanel No. 5 Eau Première (2007)

In some burst of foresight, I had also ordered a decant of No. 5 Eau Première ("The First Fragrance"), a Jacques Polge re-reformulation that Chanel sells alongside the original. Honestly, it feels like an admission that the original just doesn't work for modern tastes: okay, fine, we made a wearable version of it. And there are people who still love the older incarnations! Who will tell you, in fact, that Chanel No. 5 is the only perfume worth wearing and everyone will come around to it in the end, as I grind my teeth politely!

With Eau Première, the headache took a solid two hours to set in, and I never resorted to washing it off. Rather than soap, it smelled like a clean and lemony diaper, reposing some tasteful distance away from my nose. The note that primarily came out from underneath that was a very warm and playful sandalwood—I think the ylang ylang must have been giving it a certain limpid clarity. (I know that sounds pretentious, but limpid is the word I keep coming up with—fluid, translucent, almost sunlit.) (In a diaper.) The first time I wore Eau Première, I got orange peel, but not any subsequent time—the fragrance was very distinctly "lemon," which must be how the aldehydes interact with my skin chemistry. I never got any extravagant florals or sensuous vanilla at all, just an eventual residue of cleanliness. On the whole, I didn't like it (unless you can just isolate that ylangalwood for me), but I didn't want to fight it, either.

User reviews I've read range from "YOU HAVE DIMINISHED THE GRANDE DAME" to "a lovely sparkling update." For all my dislike of No. 5, I feel like Eau Première takes the storied ivory monolith and transforms it from a bar of soap into a bubble bath. Still "clean," but lighter and more nimble; more easily worn, but with no intent to replace the flagship fragrance. Which is still the top-selling perfume in the world overall. And which the Chanel website now lists between Coco Mademoiselle and Chance, two "younger" fragrances that sell better in many markets. Look upon No. 5, ye mighty, and despair.

“Chanel No. 5 makes my teeth hurt”

— Cleolinda Jones, 2023

#perfume #perfume discussion #perfume: chanel #aldehydes #long post #sparkling headache #(งಠ_ಠ)ง #exclamation points!!

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