Spoilers for the end of season 4, guys. If you are avoiding spoilers, don't read. And may I say oops! I meant to post this here days ago and completely forgot. Sorry guys! Here you are, my Lucifer prayer story!
Like A Prayer
Sex for Lucifer, he had come to find out in short order, was more than just two or more bodies moving against or inside of another. There were multiple levels that he needed to actually get off.
For one, he needed to know his partners sexual desires, so he could fulfil them. He did have a massive kink for doing whatever his partner at the time wanted most in the bedroom.
For another, he needed to be needed. Nothing fed his passion or his own desires than someone willingly sleeping with him. Wanting him as much as he wanted them. Needing to connect as much as possible in the one way he knew was good.
There was one other thing and that was prayer. Every time his lovers shouted out his name, whimpered in pleasure, groaned with ignited desire, he heard it in more than just one way. He was desire. Not sexual desire, he would grant people that, he was all desire. And there was one desire he had which could only be fulfilled during sex.
Because it was the only time his name was prayed to, believed in, wanted and needed in the moment. He had plenty of experience with sex and a well earned reputation for being the best lover in L.A. That was by design, not power or control or anything other than skills he had developed himself throughout his meagre times on Earth and practiced on in Hell to stave off boredom.
He didn't like quiet sex partners. Ones that were there for a quick lay and then moved right on without any thought at all other than the sex. He liked his lovers loud, boisterous and letting him know what they liked and wanted and when they wanted it.
Sometimes the two can blend and those encounters, while highly pleasurable to his partner(s) for the night, were less than fulfilling for him.
Because when he had sex, the good prayers of his lovers drowned out the others. Being so close, so loud, so right in his vicinity he could ignore that bad. The devil worshippers whispered dark, sick prayers to him as they stalked human prey. The prayers of the good and just to all the angels to keep them safe from the big bad Devil. The prayers filed his way over why he had to cause so much death and destruction, like it was his fault.
During sex, that melted away and he could be. He heard the good, he felt it through his very being. His lovers in their moments with him worshipped his body, loved him for his skill, were shouting, gooey piles of satisfaction by the time he was done with them and ready to stop, sated and full and empty of bad.
It was always only fleeting, lasting until such time as they packed up and left.
He had perfected ways to exhaust people with pleasure so they would stay with him through the nights when the prayers were at their worst, so he could rest in relative peace.
When the only good thing you had is gone, you tend to set up some other system to cope.
In Hell, either on patrol or sitting on his throne, it didn't matter, the bad always came to him. It was never ending. But smattered about the bad were the good. He was aware it was basically an invasion of privacy, but he needed it to survive.
Because everyone knew if you wanted unbelievably good sex, you went to Lucifer Morningstar, who would satisfy your every sexual desire. That kind of idea stuck.
Every time one of his past lovers thought of him when they touched themselves in the privacy of their own home, every time they writhed and accidentally shouted his name instead of someone else's. Every time one of them wished in their own minds that they wished he was still around, either for another go or to have a try, he heard.
It was barely there, but it stuck out when it happened.
And he had been very busy on his extended leave.
Alone in Hell, sitting on a throne he took up again out of a need to keep the place he called home now safe, he lived for those prayers.
As long as he was remembered by anyone fondly he could do his duty with pride, knowing he made even a tiny difference in other people's lives for the better.
Up there on Earth, he was loved by few, but those few mattered more than anything.
He treasured every single one of them.