Cosmos

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Lucifer sketchpage I did for fun

Satan wades into what he’ll come to know as the asexual spectrum, brought to you by an ace-spec writer.

Reader is also ace-spec.

Hurt/Comfort

Love and desire were supposed to parallel.

That was what Satan believed for the longest time anyway, and the concept made sense. How could one not be enamored by their significant other, so much so that they want all of them? Every book alluding to love would never say otherwise, but Satan was also aware that every piece of fiction was to be handled with a grain of salt. It was foolhardy to be unable to discern between reality and its truths, from fiction and its endless possibilities.

Still he hung onto that ideal, even when demon culture praised reeling in as many partners and leaving them at your fancy. Even his brothers dabbled in the idea at some points, especially when they became fully established in demon hierarchy.

A lot of humans and lower demons alike threw themselves at the feet of seven thrones, and even if it was just to pass the time, his brothers did entertain a few of them. Yes, even Lucifer, before he ultimately decided it posed far too great a risk to let a stranger be that close to him.

It was another bullet on the existing list of reasons on why Satan felt so different from his family. Yet he remained steadfast, adamant to put his hope on an intimacy born from sentiment and trust.

Then you came along, the sweet little lamb that braved the storm and found him in the eye of it.

How easy you made it for him, to let you integrate yourself into his supposedly mundane routines, and bring unspoken joy just by being… you. It was a phenomenon he had no explanation for, yet it lulled him deeper and deeper in.

Soon, it became vital for your weight to be nearby or against his when he was reading, plus the cats would surely look for you at his every visit. He couldn’t go a day without looking at your eyes anymore and pinpointing the exact hexcodes, time and time again even when he’d already memorized it.

Surely, this was the desire they wrote of… Until that one night when he had to get his nails repainted by Asmo.

“Wait, you two haven’t had sex yet?” His kind-of-younger brother asked, eyes blown wide with his hand halting the home manicure.

Satan frowned. “Is it necessary? You’re the Avatar of Lust between us, not me.” He said.

“Well yeah, but.. It’s a pretty big step in a relationship, ‘Tan. It’s such...” Asmo bursted into giggles, and by the way his lashes started lowering, Satan immediately knew he was entering Avatar state. “An incredible way to show your love, your devotion~… Why wouldn’t you want to show them just how much you want them, so badly~?”

Just as quickly, Asmo regained his composure before the atmosphere got too heady as a response to his power. He went back to painting Satan’s left ring finger like nothing occurred moments ago, all the while the blond was only thankful to be spared of another explicit spiel.

“But anyway, I personally think it’d suck if I couldn’t get that kind of loving~.. I just can’t imagine!” Asmo chirped.

Faced with this, Satan thought back to his mental briefcase of handpicked philosophies he carried with him. Pure bliss came in every moment you and he shared, and he would personally destroy the physics separating you two by even a hairsbreadth. Still.. The ugly seed of doubt was quick to bury itself in his mind and grow faster than his self-assurance.

He reveled in your warmth, but if he couldn’t desire your heat then was even that love… as boundless as he thought it was? Was it limited after all?

No. That can’t be. That can’t be at all.

His turquoise eyes were sharp when they met Asmo’s gaze, though something fractaled within his pupils, an incomprehensible drop of fear.

“… How do you think I should go about asking them..?”

🐈🐈‍⬛🐈🐈‍⬛

“Beloved.” Satan hummed in greeting when you passed through his bedroom door for the nth time.

“Tannie,” you chirped and greeted him with a brief kiss.

His eyes softened, watching you navigate his empire state of books with expert ease to plop down on his bed. He remembered how you used to bump towers by accident and grumble about stubbing your foot on some hardcover strewn about. Satan admired your persistence and grew to love it, because then you persisted to make him part of your life.

As you sauntered over to his bed, your eyes landed on the bouquets of roses tied to the headboard, along with some petals scattered about the sheets. If not for the vivid lighting, you’d almost thought you went into Asmo's room by accident.

“Babe?” You piped up. “What’s all this?”

Satan quickly strode over to you, his heart jackhammering his ribs. “I intended for us to do something.. different, instead of our usual book reading session.” As soon as your gaze locked on him, he started feeling like the ground was imminently giving way under him.

His breath hitched, almost skidding to a stammer yet he tried to clamber after his usual poise. “I.. wish to.. Ugh, fuck, make love to you.” His blush only worsened when you giggled at his slip-up.

“But only if you want to.” Satan followed up quickly. “I will not be angry nor upset if you decline, I understand this is a lot to ask and your comfort is of utmost importance to me.”

You shrugged. “Sure.”

His eyes widened. “I… Really?”

“Really.” You smiled a lopsided smile. He then nodded, determined; he’d gotten the most important thing out of the way, which was your consent. Now all he had to do was remember all that he learned moving forward..

He looked to you this time, in the knowledge of the strength to be found in your smile. Satan didn’t want to disappoint you, and he’d rather go through his own Fall than to fall short in loving you. He anchored himself by holding your hand, and if you noticed any tremor along his fingers, you made no mention. His lips stamped his affections on the hills of your knuckles, a prelude to the kiss you were soon to receive on your lips.

Now this felt more natural for Satan. It was your magic, as he often teased you; how you could make him resign to this feeling and then nothing else would matter. He had no thoughts, no words, no grandeur— just you, and everything that meant being you.

He had the wherewithal to remember leading you down onto the mattress, fingers slotting into yours before pressing it firmly into the sheets. Satan was bold, you thought, but… far from natural, no.

The blond grew more willing to lose himself in this trade of kisses, and though his mind was blissfully clear, he was once again awash with apprehensions when he changed his direction. Right, kiss the jaw, then the neck, go lower…

All the while his palm glided up and down your thigh— firm, uncertain and, you didn’t want to admit it but, awkward.

Thoughts swarmed Satan far quicker than he could catch even one. His fingertips waited at the hem of your shorts, the edge of your shirt, trembling while he tried to push himself to move. Ask them if you can, and go for it. It’s simple. So why can’t I..?

Because he felt… nothing. There was no rush like the books said, nor that growing desire to take that Asmo described. Satan wasn’t a stranger to doing things by protocol, by procedure— yet for the first time it felt so horrendously wrong. He didn’t want to do this.

“Tannie?” You called out gently, only to watch his hands retreat back to his body. Satan was unable to look you in the eye.

He shook his head. “I’m.. Forgive me.” He said, his throat tightening. “Forgive me, (Y/N). I can’t.”

Satan normally lost his composure to one quick swipe of his fury, but not like this. It was a kind of shame and dejection that you only ever saw once, and that was when you were accidentally thrown back into the past.

Feelings and thoughts receded like the tides into that ghastly emptiness in his mind, heralding a tsunami of the worst things that was soon to crash down on him. What did he always do? Run.

You quickly got on your feet. “Satan!!” You called, dashing out of his room, startling some of the brothers enough that they peeked out of their doors.

Damn it, demons were fast. It was hard to even tell which direction he went at this point, and you found yourself stuck at the end of the hallway. To your surprise, you found Belphie standing outside the bathroom; by the damp locks on his head, it was safe to assume he’d just finished his bath.

He lifted a finger to the right. “Satan went to the attic. He doesn’t usually go there for anything so.. I assume it’s serious.”

“I don’t even know,” you sighed. “But thanks, Belphs.”

Every step you took contested the thump of your beating heart— both heavy, both loud, both detectable by your lover that he told you “Stop,” before you could even enter the room. Your heart skidded to a stop, only to shatter at the sight; Satan was in his demon form, but there was no crackling air of anger. His magic didn’t seep into his surroundings and threatened to sear you, it was.. mellower, sadder.

His tail, which he kept so firmly wrapped around his leg, had no strength and chose to lie in wait on the wooden floors. The rich aquamarines of his eyes were always so beautiful, cushioning the small peridots, yet you didn’t have the heart to appreciate it like you normally would, when it was only shining due to the glistening sheen of his tears.

With a careful stride, you approached him, and at this point he knew better than to try and stop you. “Satan,” you called out softly, “Talk to me, sweetheart.. What’s wrong?”

“I am,” Satan lamented through gritted teeth, “I told you I would love you with all that I am, I pledged myself to you and I am withholding myself and I don’t.. I don’t understand.”

Your gaze softened. “You were so focused on making sure I was comfortable through all of that, but you didn’t count your comfort.. Oh Tan.”

He kept his eyes downward, like he already lost the honor of even being able to look at you. Yet you gently slipped your hands into his, digits slotting together like pieces of two different puzzles that made one bigger, lovelier picture.

You offered him one of your smiles. “Let’s get comfortable. C’mon, up we go.”

Satan felt out of his element with all the beddings, but you helped him get comfortable. A gentle rub to the base of his horns, your nails grazing on his scalp, it prompted his tail to curl idly on your bicep. It helped him to be able to hold you in any capacity. You baffled him too, always with your kindness when he wasn’t deserving of it. He had a litany of reasons to present to you and here you were still.

Satan meekly raised his head towards you. “I failed you. I’m so sorry.”

Your heart broke at that. “No, Tannie,” you shook your head. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“You deserve that form of intimacy, that pleasure. I want nothing more than to love you in ways I can’t count..” The blond lamented. “And I hate that I can’t even get past this one. This.. one thing that’s so basic.”

“Tannie,” you started again, beckoning him to look at you when you cupped his hands with yours, “I wouldn’t love you less if we didn’t have sex, or if we never did at all.”

“But I feel like I’m falling short as your partner to be so.. incapable of that particular desire.” Satan argued.

“Well.. I don’t desire you like that either. But we never had to just to love.”

He snapped his head towards you, aquamarine eyes growing by the second. It felt like something he should take offense at, but he didn’t. There was no rising anger, only a sense of peace that settled with the realization that he wasn’t alone.

“We don’t? I don’t?” He asked, eyes wide and voice painfully hushed by his own disbelief.

“Yeah.. And there’s nothing wrong with us.” You affirmed, eyes crinkling softly to your smile. “The worlds are big enough for all kinds of people. Don’t you think..?”

A tear slid from his lashes, and landed in your palm; then another, until his body heaved to a full sob. He didn’t resist when you threw your arms around him. That same familiar air of comfort— a concoction of your warmth and your scent— it lulled Satan with so little effort that he was burrowing into your collarbone in no time. All his apprehensions slowly released its hold on him, and at last he could breathe easier again.

“How do you do that?” He asked, voice barely a whisper. “Making everything right again? Knowing what to say every time?”

You smiled. “Well.. For others, the highest form of love is protecting one’s solitude.”

And oh how he fell in love with you again, then and there. “Letters to a Young Poet.” He smiled. “I love you.. You’re wonderful. I am so enamored by everything you are.”

“And I love you,” You returned his smile, “With or without your clothes.”

“Dork.”

You grinned, but only for a moment before your face mellowed into that nice tandem of gentle seriousness. “But on a serious note, Tan..” You said. “Promise me you’ll tell me when you’re uncomfortable about doing anything with me.. Okay?”

Satan couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt for omitting in the first place, but he nodded. “I swear.”

You nuzzled your nose into Satan’s, summoning bashful little laughs as the tip burrowed into his smiling cheeks. Little by little, his horns disappeared and his tail receded.

“Permission to kiss?” You asked.

“Granted. Always granted.” Satan chuckled and lifted his head. That fanged smile found your own, soft and slow that lulled you to that thoughtless peace. It was a two-way blessing after all.

Sometime after you gave the attic back to Belphie, you took the chance to tell Satan all about the concept of asexuality and the spectrum that it was. Satan being Satan, it became the new topic of his research over the usual curses or detective novel.

There was no clear-cut way to be, he realized. The concept of attraction and action was a conundrum to him for the moment, but he was learning as best as he could. As his eyes continued to scan various texts and articles, some things caught his eye.

Attraction isn’t necessary, but people can just make love for the sake of enjoying intimacy..?

Attraction can be sporadic but rare?

Some never experience attraction unless faced with closer associates?

It may require certain conditions that vary from person to person?

He looked over at your sleeping figure on his bed, with your cat pajamas on and shamelessly donning a large band shirt you copped from his closet. Satan was certain he held no desire that mirrored that of Asmo’s, but the thought of sharing such closeness, to do so with the intent to be intimate..