To celebrate my first anniversary as a Radio Apple fan, I translated the very first Radio Apple novel I wrote using a translator. (There may be some mistakes.) I hope you enjoy it!

Lucifer’s morning began in the most wretched way imaginable. For some inexplicable reason, Alastor stood in the middle of his private chamber, right in front of him.
Unable to mask his irritation, Lucifer demanded, “Why the hell are you in my room?”
“Good day, Your Majesty!” Alastor replied with a theatrical flourish, his lips curling into a sharp, playful grin. “I’m a deer-shaped entertainer from the future—the Radio Demon, at your service!”
“What did you just say? The future?” Lucifer’s voice carried a mix of disbelief and exasperation.
“Oh, yes, yes! A long journey indeed—from the future!” Alastor responded, his tone light and gleeful.
Lucifer fell silent, his eyes drifting to Alastor’s feet. There, faintly visible, were the remnants of a magic circle etched into the floor.
“Oh my, did I catch you just waking up? My apologies,” Alastor said with mock contrition. “It seems I can’t quite choose the time of day from my end.”
Hearing this, Lucifer paused to consider. This didn’t seem like a joke. Magic capable of temporarily sending someone to the past did, in fact, exist.
He addressed Alastor again. “Alastor.”
“Yes, Your Majesty?” Alastor replied, tilting his head with a performer’s flair.
“I’m aware such magic exists,” Lucifer said coolly. “I don’t know what you’re scheming, but I’m afraid it’s a wasted effort. Coming to the past won’t accomplish anything.”
“And why might that be?” Alastor prompted, his voice teasing.
“Those who come from the future can’t interfere with the past,” Lucifer explained. “Most wouldn’t even be able to perceive you right now.”
This was a critical point.
The magic allowed travel to the past, but altering it was impossible. The past could not be changed. Only someone like Lucifer, once a seraph, could recognize a future traveler like Alastor.
Alastor responded with his usual breezy confidence. “Of course, of course! I’m well aware. You’re likely the only one who can see me here. No problem at all—my purpose is to meet you.”
“Is that so? How fortunate for me,” Lucifer said, his brow furrowing with annoyance.
It might not trouble Alastor, but for Lucifer, this was an irritation to be dismissed—unless this fool had meddled with Charlie in the future. Then, he’d reduce him to ashes without hesitation.
“Lucifer Morningstar,” Alastor continued, unfazed, “in the future, you and I are lovers.”
“What?” Lucifer stared, dumbfounded.
What was this idiot blabbering about? For someone who styled himself an entertainer, his sense of humor was utterly deplorable.
“Coming to the past just to mock me?” Lucifer scoffed. “Has the future left you so idle your brain’s gone soft?”
“Oh, hardly! I wouldn’t travel back for something so trivial,” Alastor said with a shrug. “It means something to me, you see.” With that, he began rummaging through the room’s belongings as if he owned the place. “Standing around chatting won’t do. Shall I brew some tea?”
Alastor located the tea leaves with uncanny precision—despite never having been invited into this home before.
(Where did he even get that teacup from, damn it?)
“I thought I’d lost that teapot, but here it is. Quite a surprise. I suppose I owe you thanks,” Lucifer muttered, glaring as Alastor calmly boiled water. He retrieved the teapot from a pile of rubber ducklings, pouring the tea with infuriating elegance.
Lucifer watched in silence. Nothing overtly strange occurred. Since Alastor’s presence was tied to Lucifer alone, he could interact with the environment as long as it didn’t stray too far from Lucifer’s daily routine—apparently bending the rules of non-interference.
“Rejoice, Alastor,” Lucifer said sardonically. “You’re far more the master of this house than I am.”
“Why, thank you for the compliment, Your Majesty,” Alastor replied, offering the freshly brewed tea with a flourish.
Lucifer took it with a scowl, sipping reluctantly. To his chagrin, it was better than anything he could brew himself—infuriatingly so. He couldn’t deny it: lovers or not, this future Alastor had clearly wormed his way deep into his life.
While tidying a mountain of chick-shaped trinkets amassed during a depressive spell, Lucifer fixed Alastor with a steady gaze. “So, what’s your real purpose?”
“What do you mean?” Alastor asked, feigning ignorance.
“Don’t play dumb. You didn’t come to the past just to play housekeeper,” Lucifer pressed.
“Well, I suppose not,” Alastor conceded, his tone deliberately vague.
His pretense of pondering was transparent. Magic that allowed travel to the past wasn’t something anyone could wield—otherwise, it’d be commonplace. In reality, its utility was limited, and only a rare few demons possessed the vast knowledge and power required to use it. Going to the past only forced one to witness unchangeable truths, leaving nothing but misery behind.
A sudden realization struck Lucifer mid-thought. Who had taught Alastor this magic? Could he even cast it himself? If not, who had? A wave of dread washed over him.
Interrupting his spiraling thoughts, Alastor spoke again. “If I had to say… I wanted you to understand my love for you.”
“Oh?” Lucifer’s response was flat, unimpressed.
Undeterred, Alastor continued. “I’ve always had my own feelings about our relationship—enough to come back and confess to the past you directly. Even after we became lovers, I was stubborn for a long while. I hurt you deeply, and I regret it terribly.”
Lucifer raised an eyebrow. “I’m shocked. You, capable of caring for someone else?”
It sounded like a cheap romance drama—touching, perhaps, if Lucifer weren’t the unwilling star. He’d have changed the channel by now.
“If I were my present self, I could express my love to you more honestly,” Alastor said, his gaze feverish. “I want to show you my love, Your Majesty, in my own way.”
His hand brushed Lucifer’s shoulder gently. Normally, Lucifer would’ve swatted it away with a snarl—don’t touch me like that, creep—but something caught him off guard. Perhaps it was the absurdity of it all. Anger felt futile; he didn’t bother shaking him off.
It was the first time, outside of his wife and daughter, that someone had touched him with such tenderness.


*


“Call me ‘Al,’ Your Majesty?” Alastor ventured.
“No,” Lucifer shot back. He had no intention of getting that chummy.
“Fair enough,” Alastor said lightly, shrugging off his coat. He seemed reluctant to bare more skin—perhaps a preference for staying clothed. Lucifer didn’t care enough to press the issue, leaving it to Alastor’s discretion. When Alastor requested he strip fully, Lucifer complied without fuss. Better than risking stained clothes.
“Bottoming experience, Your Majesty?” Alastor asked with a sly grin.
“You already know the answer,” Lucifer muttered, exasperated.
Alastor’s smirk widened. If they were lovers in the future, such intimacy was a given. A sigh escaped Lucifer’s lips—convenient, really, since he had no desire to top this fool anyway.
Alastor produced a bottle of lotion from somewhere, applying it to Lucifer’s skin with a considerate warmth that only deepened his irritation. “I thought we’d have some fun, savoring your fresh reactions from back in the day,” he teased.
“Thanks for the thought,” Lucifer replied, dripping with sarcasm.
He’d imagined Alastor as the type to ravage his partners without mercy. Yet here he was, prepping him with care? It was so unexpectedly gentle it pissed him off even more.
A soft moan escaped Lucifer as Alastor’s fingers slipped inside, probing slowly. It had been a while since anyone touched him like this, but it didn’t hurt. Alastor clearly knew the basics. If it wasn’t painful, Lucifer reasoned, he could let him carry on—he’d exhaust himself eventually. A little patience, and it’d be over.
As Lucifer mulled this over vaguely, Alastor continued his work with one hand while the other caressed his face tenderly, trailing kisses through his hair with faint, playful sounds. The kisses descended—forehead, cheeks, neck—light and ticklish.
Lucifer frowned. What was he playing at?
Then, a flicker of recognition stirred. The pattern of those kisses, the way he touched him—it felt familiar.
“You like this, don’t you?” Alastor murmured.
Forehead, nose, cheeks, neck, tracing the line to the back of his ear—featherlight kisses raining down, teasing and relentless. It was a method Lucifer had once adored, a cherished intimacy from his time with Lilith that sent him soaring when passions ran high. A sacred memory, never to be replicated.
Alastor couldn’t know this. He shouldn’t know this. Lucifer had never spoken of it to anyone—his deepest vulnerability, exposed.
His eyes widened in shock. What the hell did you teach this bastard, future me?
Alastor didn’t miss the way Lucifer’s gaze faltered. His fingers withdrew, replaced swiftly by a tentacle—thicker, heavier—pushing inside. A sharp, sweet cry slipped from Lucifer’s lips as the intrusion overwhelmed him.
“You idiot—!” he gasped, voice trembling.
Kisses continued to shower his face, soft and loving, while the tentacle below pressed deeper, relentless. Alastor wielded Lucifer’s weaknesses against him, mimicking Lilith’s touch with eerie precision.
Heat flushed through his ears and back. The air felt cold against his skin.
“You’re enjoying this,” Alastor observed, smug satisfaction in his tone.
Enjoying it? Me? Don’t be absurd…
But his body betrayed him, shuddering under the assault of pleasure.
“Don’t think. Just surrender to me.”
Lilith’s words echoed in his mind—words that once brought blissful oblivion.
“Don’t think. Just surrender to me.”
Alastor’s voice overlaid the memory, yanking Lucifer back to reality.
“What—?! How do you—stop—!” he stammered, protests dissolving into pitiful whines as the tentacle continued its work.
This couldn’t be real—a nightmare, surely. Yet here was Alastor, desecrating his dignity with the exact methods of his former wife.
Alastor’s eyes gleamed with intent. I know you. I know how you break.
“Shameless,” Alastor taunted. “Does it feel good no matter who does it?”
“You bastard—don’t—!” Lucifer’s furious retort was cut off as Alastor’s lips claimed his, tongue forcing its way in.
Pleasure and shock turned Lucifer’s mind blank. His body convulsed, arching violently as climax ripped through him. When the kiss broke, a silvery thread glistened between their lips.
Panting, he rasped, “You sealed my mouth, you ass. How was I supposed to say anything?”
In retaliation, he pressed a foot against Alastor’s groin, feeling the hardness there. Alastor was just as affected—good.
“I’m not running,” Alastor chuckled, unperturbed.
Lucifer clicked his tongue. Take off your damn pants, you dense idiot.
“If you want me so badly, just do it,” he snapped.
“Oh, no, Your Majesty,” Alastor corrected gently. “That’s not what I’m after.”
“What?” Lucifer frowned, confused.
“I want you to want me,” Alastor clarified. “I want to hear it from your lips—that you desire me.”
“Surrender to you?” Lucifer laughed bitterly. “To the man trampling my memories and humiliating me?”
What a sadist.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he sneered. “You’re the one at your limit. If you want to finish, do it. Or should I take over? Your little tentacle game must be boring you.”
“Tempting,” Alastor mused, grinning, “but no. I need to hear it from you.”
Rubbing his chin, Alastor observed Lucifer closely. His defiance was expected. Alastor could feel Lucifer’s body yielding to the pleasure through the tentacle, even if his pride held firm. It was just a matter of ego now.
Inside, Alastor was elated. Perfect. More fun to toy with him.
“Oh, Your Majesty,” he murmured. “You’re magnificent.”


*


“If you’re so stubborn, I’ll help you,” Alastor offered slyly. “I’ll say the words, and you repeat. Simple enough for that pleasure-addled brain of yours.”
Lucifer froze.
With a snap of his fingers, Alastor summoned more tentacles, binding Lucifer’s wrists.
“Repeat after me: ‘Al, please put it in.’”
A jolt of pleasure surged through him as the tentacles moved, relentless. Alastor didn’t rush—he teased, drawing it out.
For Lucifer, that was the most maddening part.
“Say it, and I’ll make it easier,” Alastor cooed.
“Stop—!” Lucifer gasped, writhing.
The tentacles didn’t relent. Their probing movements made Lucifer shudder.
He understood what was happening—what Alastor was uncovering about his body, and what awaited him next.
“Repeat it.”
The tentacle struck his prostate. His body stiffened under the most intense sensation yet.
A sweet numbness pierced his core, melting his mind.
Fear gripped Lucifer. The pleasure was far more unbearable than he’d imagined.
If it got any better, he might lose all reason—might blurt out something he shouldn’t.
Hesitantly, he glanced up at Alastor.
“I won’t stop,” Alastor said, smiling. “Not until you give in.”
“Not until you say it.”
His eyes narrowed, cold and resolute.
“You sadistic—!” Lucifer spat, but his curse dissolved into a cry as the tentacle pressed harder, pushing him over the edge again.
He realized then: Alastor had intended to torment him until he got what he wanted. For Lucifer, it was a death sentence.
A sharp cry escaped him as the tentacle bore down on his prostate, sending him into a light climax. His small frame jolted.
Panting through repeated peaks, he shot a resentful glance at Alastor’s trousers. Alastor’s erection strained harder than before, asserting itself painfully.
Yet Alastor himself wiped Lucifer’s fluids from his fingers with infuriating calm.
“You’re too weak for a battle of wills,” he remarked.
“Shut—up—!” Lucifer choked out between gasps, climax after climax eroding his resistance.
Alastor’s touch softened, tracing Lucifer’s fingers lovingly, licking them with deliberate care. Even with the ring he cherished still on, Alastor lapped at his skin tenderly. A sweet shiver ran through Lucifer—it was just his fingertips, yet it felt like his entire being was being caressed.
Alastor made sure Lucifer heard every sticky sound, every smack of his lips as he lavished his fingers with affection. While he pampered him gently above, he intensified the tentacles below, ensuring no part of Lucifer was neglected.
His ears flushed red under the relentless assault of pleasure. Lewd sounds filled the air—from above, from below.
His mouth felt empty. No—not there—he wanted a kiss on his lips. His mouth opened and closed, yearning.
Alastor laughed at the sight. “Greedy, aren’t you? But no. That’s your reward.”
Despair sank into Lucifer. Even this, Alastor mimicked from Lilith.
“Why—again—so fast—!” he gasped, voice breaking.
Alastor watched him closely. Perhaps ten or fifteen minutes had passed in this contest of endurance. Lucifer was breathless, while Alastor gazed at him with the same cool expression.
His lower body, ravaged by Alastor’s tentacles, was soaked in fluids—a testament to the relentless climaxes in such a short span. The fluids lubricated the tentacles’ chaotic movements, echoing with wet sounds. Perhaps it was the deeper peaks he’d hit along the way, but Lucifer found himself climaxing more easily now. The waves of pleasure stayed high, never subsiding. A mere nudge against his sensitive flesh brought him teetering to the edge again.
He hadn’t known how humiliating it could be to lose control of his own body.
“You’re cruel, ascending to heaven alone,” Alastor quipped.
Lucifer tried to shift, to lessen the onslaught, but Alastor saw through it instantly, targeting his prostate with even greater force.
Each scrape of the tentacle against his inner walls brought shallow climaxes, melting his mind with sweet numbness. The relentless pleasure pummeled his senses. He tensed to resist, but the stimulation was too much. The more he fought, the deeper the climax that followed.
His voice broke into desperate, high-pitched cries as another wave hit. “You’re too adorable,” Alastor said, irritation creeping into his tone. “Shall I finish you off?”
With that declaration, the tentacles’ movements shifted dramatically. A new one emerged, pressing his abdomen from the outside, pinning his insides in place. His prostate trapped, the tentacles rubbed harder, more thoroughly. The pressure stole his breath, but the pleasure overwhelmed it entirely.
“Stop—I’m—!” His cries grew frantic, disjointed. “Alastor—stop—I don’t want—wait—I’ll say it—please—stop—!”
For a fleeting moment, Lilith and a young Charlie flashed in his mind—symbols of past happiness. Then darkness.
“Sorry…” he whispered, to no one in particular.
Alastor took his hand, smiling gently. “Don’t think.”
A shattering climax pulled him under. His legs stiffened, sweat beading like pearls. When his eyes fluttered open, he was thrust back into a hell of pleasure, intoxicated by an even deeper peak.
Tears spilled from his eyes.
He despaired at his own wretchedness—using a fleeting memory of his beloved family as fodder for momentary bliss. Miserable, pitiful, blissful… and so terribly good.
“Surrender to me.”
Alastor’s sweet whisper reached him as he weighed his precious memories against this fleeting ecstasy.
Once the dam broke, there was no hesitation left. He just wanted to feel good, to think of nothing. And the man before him could make that happen.
Alastor kissed him lightly again, speaking softly. “Repeat: ‘Al, please put it in.’”
He tugged at Lucifer’s tongue, toying with his open mouth. “Say it.”
“Al… put… it…” The words spilled from Lucifer like a delirious murmur, following Alastor’s lead.
“Well, well! I thought you’d hold out longer, stubborn as you are,” Alastor purred, pleased. “You were good at begging even back then. Honesty suits you.”
He’d driven Lucifer to this, but hearing him plead directly sent a satisfied rumble through Alastor’s throat.
The tentacle slid out with a wet sound, leaving Lucifer’s flesh twitching with longing. “Now, let’s feel good together.”
Slowly, Alastor’s erection replaced the tentacle, easing into Lucifer’s needy entrance. His gentle, deliberate pace frustrated Lucifer, who rocked his hips impatiently. As his mouth opened and closed, Alastor drew closer.
“By the way, your reward’s overdue.”
The deep kiss Lucifer had craved after endless teasing finally came. He entangled his tongue with Alastor’s, euphoria washing over him. A faint taste of blood mingled with the intensity—overwhelming, yet he felt utterly pampered. This dizzying sensation was something he adored.
Gasping as the kiss broke, he pleaded, “Wait—I want more—it feels so good—”
He surrendered to the pleasure fully now. Alastor narrowed his eyes, savoring the sight. He loved watching Lucifer’s rationality melt away, consumed by wanton desire.
“Sorry, Alastor—I can’t—again—!” he cried, lost in the haze.
“Go ahead,” Alastor whispered. “I’ll ruin you until you’re satisfied. See? It’s incredible, isn’t it?”
“Alastor—wait—I’m—it’s coming again—!” His body moved on its own, chasing the deepening waves. “So good—stop—another deep one—I can’t—!”
Alastor trembled with delight.
The King of Hell, feared by all, moaned lewdly, taking him in.
Lucifer’s legs stiffened as another climax knocked him out cold. Alastor nudged him awake with a gentle thrust—even such mild stimulation would be overwhelming now.
Waking with a jolt, he trembled violently. When Alastor laced their fingers together, Lucifer let out a pathetic cry and climaxed again. At this height, anything could push him over.
“How much more will you taunt me?” he whimpered.
Alastor’s desires—dominance, conquest—were sated. The thrill and the sensation within Lucifer stoked Alastor’s own release.
I’ve exposed and fulfilled every part of you, he thought.
Tears streamed from Lucifer’s eyes, his golden lashes quivering. Alastor stroked his head, kissing him tenderly to convey his love.
Lucifer was precious to him. That’s why Alastor wanted to break him, to make him yield. His overwhelming strength had grated on Alastor. That’s why he wanted to be gentler than anyone.
“You’re mine alone.”
Lucifer smiled faintly in response—not from understanding, but because, in his pleasure-drowned haze, he mirrored the smile of the man before him. Alastor knew this.
Yet it felt as if Lucifer had accepted his fierce love, and Alastor’s body shivered with joy.
As he resumed, Lucifer shuddered in his arms, climaxing repeatedly. His eyes lost focus, teetering on the edge of oblivion. Alastor, nearing his own limit, gripped Lucifer’s slender waist for a final push. His pale neck came into view, sweat glistening on his nape. Alastor traced it slowly with his tongue, eliciting a shiver.
Their melted gazes met for a moment.
Both craved it—the moment of ecstasy. After a breath, Alastor sank his teeth into Lucifer’s neck without mercy.
A guttural cry tore from Lucifer as his deepest climax yet seized him, his insides clenching tight. Straining against Lucifer’s pulsing walls, Alastor savored the golden blood filling his mouth.
Like sipping a fine apple-scented wine, he released deep within Lucifer.


*


When Lucifer’s legs gave out, Alastor tended to him with surprising diligence. Wiping his fluid-drenched body with a towel, he hummed cheerfully. Lucifer accepted the care, his mind still sluggish from the afterglow.
It was too practiced for a whim—likely part of Alastor’s routine. Lucifer didn’t want to know.
“Thank you for the rare experience,” Alastor said. “I took your first, in a way.”
“I’m not a virgin,” Lucifer retorted.
“Not like that—something more abstract,” Alastor clarified, pulling him into a tight embrace. “I wanted you to accept my love, etched into your body. Only I get to break you, devour you, love you, own you.”
“Quite the passionate confession,” Lucifer grumbled. “My hips are wrecked.”
“I’m more smitten than you realize,” Alastor replied, kissing him lightly. “But keep this between us—especially from my past self.”
“Why? Time paradoxes?”
“No,” Alastor whispered, grinning. “The old me would never admit he’s this obsessed with you.”
He flashed his usual theatrical grin—the Alastor Lucifer knew so well.


*

“Alastor?”
Lucifer must’ve drifted off. Waking on the bed, his body ached, and Alastor was gone. His time in the past had expired.
That damned magic—utterly useless, really. A grandiose spell with little practical value, fit only for gawking at unchangeable memories. A loser’s solace, Lucifer had always thought. Yet Alastor had used it to leave an indelible mark.
Don’t forget my love.
His obsession was staggering.
And Lucifer had a shrewd guess about who’d enabled this farce with that wretched magic. Furious, he grabbed a rubber duck from the floor and flung it at the wall. A cute quack echoed through the room.
“Damn it…”
It wasn’t unprecedented. He’d once indulged in quirky roleplay with Lilith for excitement’s sake. But being dragged into someone else’s game? This was infuriating.
“Using my past self as a spice for your pleasure,” he muttered. “Someone out there has atrocious taste.”
Even if that future came to pass, it felt far off—for now.
“Well, I’ve got time,” he sighed, sipping the cold tea Alastor had left behind, his thoughts drifting to a distant tomorrow.