Chapter Text
They hadn’t even made it into her room, his mouth was on her neck nipping and sucking on her skin, one arm braced above her on the wall. The hand of his other arm was down the front of her pants, stroking her through the soaked fabric of her underwear.
“Can you keep quiet this time, Charlie? Or do I need to gag you?” One of her hands tightened on his shoulder as she shoved the knuckles of the other into her mouth, biting down to stop any sound from escaping her.
He acted like it was her fault she’d been loud last time, as if she could have helped it with what he was doing. Alastor had offered to help her with the front desk for an overnight shift — one thing had led to another and they’d ended up on the floor behind said desk, fucking furiously. A particularly loud cry from Charlie had caught the attention of Husk as he came down for a nightcap.
She’d been forced to stand quickly, and try to make up an excuse while Alastor refused to stop, he just changed his tactic from intercourse to oral sex. It had been an awkward angle, but he’d made it work. Charlie had struggled to sound and speak normally while her lover explored every fold and crevice. When Husk finally left with some whiskey (not just a glass, but the whole bottle), she’d collapsed to the floor and let Alastor do whatever he desired while she kept a hand firmly over her mouth to stifle any additional sounds.
“Well now, have you been thinking about me today, princess?” Long digits tipped in claws found the edge of her underwear, slipping underneath and stroking her. Dexterous fingers slipped through her folds, coating themselves in her slick. “If you’d have said something I’d gladly have done this earlier. You know how much I enjoy having you on the desk.”
She arched, eyes closing as the tip of a finger brushed over the swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves nestled in her folds. He pinched it lightly, causing her legs to buckle.
“Oh no, darling. You need to stay standing, we still have a way to go yet.”
A low whimper escaped past her fist while a thin trickle of blood started to run down her hand from her fangs piercing the skin. Alastor leaned down, his long tongue running over her hand, lapping up the coppery liquid.
“Well now, how many ways can I taste you tonight, hmm?” He drew his hand away, forcing her pants and underwear down her thighs to give himself more room to maneuver.
“Not in the hall, Alastor.” The words had barely made it past her lips when the sound of voices echoed from the other end of the corridor. A cocoon of shadow wrapped around the pair in their very public position, hiding them from view. Alastor pressed close, his body trapping hers against the wall.
Charlie went cold when the people came into view and then hot again when Alastor curled his fingers inside her. Angel Dust and Vaggie. Two people she didn’t want to run into. Well, given the location of her pants and Alastor’s hand she didn’t want to run into anyone, but she really really didn’t want to run into these two. Her recent ex and the biggest gossip in the hotel.
“Relax.” Alastor breathed against her ear, the feel of the warm air making her shiver. She pushed her back harder against the wall in an attempt to put more space between them, but there wasn’t anywhere to go. “They can’t see us, and unless you make a sound, they won’t hear us either.”
Charlie’s gaze darted up to him, pleading. His smile widened, a malicious glint in his eye as he gave her clit another pinch. She bit her lip with a whimper, screwing her eyes closed and praying to any deity that would listen to keep her friends from hearing.
“Look, I’m just sayin’ they’ve both been actin’ kinda squirrelly.” Angel Dust told Vaggie as they approached, waving one set of arms in emphasis.
“And I’m saying Charlie would never go for that asshole. Plus, it’s only been two weeks since we agreed to give each other space and maybe try dating other people. She wouldn’t just jump into a random bed.” Vaggie’s arms were crossed tightly across her chest, her shoulders shoved up by her ears, a sullen frown on her face.
Angel let out a loud, derisive snort. “Not a random bed though, is it? I still say dos two have been eyein’ each other fer months.”
“Charlie wouldn’t do that.”
Alastor let out a low chuckle and whispered in her ear, “No, but you came very close didn’t you, sweetheart.”
Charlie buried her face against his chest and his fingers continued to move in and against her, both of her hands now gripping him to stay standing. She didn’t want to think about that day in his room, she’d gotten much too close to crossing a line; a line she’d always promised herself that she would never cross, no matter the circumstances.
They’d just been having a chat about some of the books on his shelf; she’d been excited to learn they had some overlapping tastes. She’d turned to look at the tomes, running her fingers over the spines before stopping on a specific one and giving it a light tap as she inquired if he liked it or not. Alastor had stepped behind her, reaching to pluck the volume off the shelf, his fingers brushing hers and sending a tingle down her spine.
His position came so close to trapping her. Something about it set a heat growing and twisting low in her belly. She couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel for him to brush her hair aside and kiss her neck. Charlie had suddenly been very cognizant of the space — or lack thereof — between them. Neither of them had moved; unwilling to go back, and hesitant to go forward. Her heart beat a violent rhythm in her chest, his breath quicker than usual next to her ear as they stayed locked in their positions.
If he leaned forward his hip would be pushed against her backside, and if she turned they’d be just about nose to nose. Alastor had shifted, his other hand coming to rest on the shelf near Charlie’s shoulder — finally caging her between him and the books. She’d panicked and spun around, mouth open in surprise. He’d been so close their noses had brushed, his eyes locked on her lips. She couldn’t tear her gaze from his mouth; when she’d licked her lips his eyes had shifted to radio dials.
His hand was suddenly pressed just above the base of her spine, burning through her clothing like an ember of hellfire. The tiniest iota of pressure pushed their bodies together; thigh to thigh and chest to chest. That ember under her skin burst into a flame at each point of contact. Charlie never knew who made the first move, but they met in the middle, lips a hair's breadth apart. She knew if they touched that flame would erupt into a conflagration.
“Charlie…” his voice had been so laced with static as to be almost unrecognizable. The sound of her name and the way his breath fanned over her lips ripped her back into the reality of the situation.
She flung herself away, her back slammed into the shelf, knocking several books from their perches. Alastor had reached for her, concern and desire wrapped together in his expression. Charlie had run out of his room in a panic, fighting the distinct desire to let him do whatever had been on his mind. Preferably without clothing.
Her relationship with Vaggie had already been on the rocks, Charlie hadn’t been interested in anything physical with her partner in ages, but that close call with Alastor had been the final straw. She’d framed it like she needed a break like they should give each other some space and try seeing other people. The former exorcist had agreed that it was a good idea and had moved her stuff to another room just down the hall. Charlie had felt so guilty — and at the same time so relieved — that she hadn’t been able to sleep.
Alastor had found her in their office the next morning, drinking her fourth cup of coffee while writing up increasingly complicated and outlandish lesson plans. When he’d finally wheedled the details from her, Alastor had pulled her from the chair into the searing kiss he’d probably meant to give her the previous night. His mouth hadn’t left hers for several minutes (not that she’d even considered pulling away), when they’d finally released each other he transported them via shadows directly into her bedroom. Where he’d put her to bed. Alone. To sleep.
She’d sat there gaping at him for several minutes till he’d gotten the message, kicked off his shoes, and climbed in next to her. Charlie had fallen asleep tucked against his side. And had been woken up by his mouth on her stomach where Alastor had unbuttoned her shirt, his gaze burning through her. They’d barely been able to keep their hands off each other since then. And now here they were — hiding in a mass of shadows in what could only be described as a compromising position with her ex and a close friend only a few feet away.
“Stop, please, they’ll hear.” Charlie pleaded in a barely audible whisper. Alastor’s ear flicked towards her, his acute hearing allowing him to catch every word.
“Next time don’t kiss and rub on me like that in the elevator. You made your bed, now you have to lay in it. Or better yet,” he amended with a dark chuckle, “you can lay in mine.”
The timbre of his voice alone made something deep inside her clench, never mind the sentiment. A long shadowy tentacle wrapped around her waist, holding her still and upright while a second tugged on her pants and underwear till they were off. The discarded clothing vanished into a puddle of shadow, leaving no trace behind and leaving her completely stranded. As much as Charlie wanted to know where her clothes had gone, Alastor’s mouth was back on her neck and nothing else mattered as he drew her skin into his mouth, sucking gently and working the pulse point with his tongue.
She could still hear Angel and Vaggie continuing their conversation through the desire-filled haze that was dulling her senses — Charlie dared anyone to form a cohesive thought while The Radio Demon did whatever the hell he was doing to her neck — but some of what they were saying penetrated her brain.
“Wouldn’t do what? Find someone else ta warm her bed? Yer not togetha, remember?”
“Yeah, but she just needed some space after… you know… everything.” The former exorcist waved her hand vaguely. “Once she works through all that stuff, we’ll be fine.”
One of Alastor’s tentacles spiraled up Charlie’s leg, stroking the soft skin of her thighs before latching onto her neglected clit as his fingers pressed that patch of rough tissue deep inside her. The undulating appendage swirled and moved in a disturbingly accurate imitation of his tongue; her hands tightened on his shoulders, slicing through the fabric of his jacket.
“And you’ve been talkin’ ‘bout how yer both feelin’? Spendin’ loadsa time togetha?” Angel sounded skeptical; clearly, he felt there was no way he would have missed that. Apparently, he could see the writing on the wall even if Vaggie couldn’t.
“Well… no. I wanted to give her space and you know how busy she is with the hotel, especially with the reopening.”
“Uh-huh. Look. Maybe adjust yer expectations a lil.”
Alastor nipped hard on Charlie’s neck; he always seemed to know when her attention was drifting, and he was nothing if not selfish in that regard. She arched, her breasts pushing against him as her back bowed off the wall. He made a pleased little hum against her neck and spread his fingers inside her, scraping along her walls.
“As much as this is a conversation I want to continue having, this is my room. See ya tomorrow, Angel.” the former exorcist deadpanned, gripping the knob to her room.
“Night, Vags.” The spider had a completive expression on his features as he watched the door close behind the other demon. He let out a long sigh as he turned away, “Dis is gonna suck.”
Charlie felt a small wave of guilt that was quickly overshadowed when Alastor’s mouth covered hers and took full advantage of her parted lips. His tongue swirled around hers before working to map everything he could reach.
She knew she should be feeling worse about her choices, but this felt inevitable. Like a star falling to earth. They were either going to destroy each other or create something beautiful, but Charlie was determined to enjoy the journey.
Alastor’s thumb brushed a slow, soft circle over the bundle of nerves nestled between her lips as his mouth slid to her jaw, and his teeth grazed her skin.
“C-can we go inside?”
“Inside? Inside where, Charlie?” He spoke between kisses, “Your room? Vaggie’s room?”
Charlie tried to shove at him, tried to get him to stop so they could talk, but once Alastor had something in his mind there was very little that could be done to dissuade him.
His mouth was hungry against hers, nipping, licking, and catching every whimper and gasp she made; swallowing — consuming — them with husky, desperate groans of his own. Acting like every noise she made was nectar or ambrosia and he couldn’t get his fill. The neediness of his kisses was a wild juxtaposition to the slow, teasing pace of his fingers as he stroked over her wet center.
“A-Alastor — ”
“Quiet, pet. We wouldn’t want anyone to hear you.”
“Liar.”
His chuckle was dark, almost smoky as it skittered across her skin; seeping into every pore, marking her as his.
“Perhaps. Let’s see how quiet you can be.”
Had a solid wisp of shadow not covered her mouth, the loud squeal it captured would have let everyone know where they were as Charlie was very suddenly thrust upwards, her head very nearly colliding with the ceiling.
Alastor himself did very little work, instead allowing his tentacles to lift her so that her legs went over his shoulders and he was in the perfect position to give her a long, slow lick. The tip of his tongue moved through her folds, flicking and massaging as it went.
Charlie’s hands gripped his antlers hard for balance even as her eyes started to flutter closed. They flew back open as the thin bits of bone began to shift, thicken, and grow under her hands. She’d seen Alastor’s antlers grow before, but she’d never been holding them when they did. It was an oddly intimate and erotic sensation; the hard, ridged bone seemingly chased the feel of her hands as it grew and she had to wonder how Alastor would feel if she just wanted to pet and stroke him one night.
He’d probably give an outright ‘no’, but he might be willing to trade. Any thoughts of bargaining for the opportunity to stroke and fondle the deer demon’s more animalistic features disappeared as his tongue slid deftly inside her.
She whimpered as his tongue delved deep, sending her muscles into tiny spasms. Charlie stopped thinking as he explored her, the push and pull of his mouth – not to mention the low groans that vibrated against her skin – driving her closer and closer to the edge. She could have cried when he drew back, that long tongue snaking over his lips and chin to catch every stray drop of her.
She felt a keen sense of loss and an aching emptiness when he didn’t return to his previous action. Instead, Alastor latched on to the sensitive, swollen bud at the apex of her thighs, flicking it with quick, gentle licks. The speed sent wave after wave of heat rolling over her, beads of sweat running down between her breasts. Charlie’s grip on her antlers tightened, forcing him firmly against her; he grunted, something between appreciation and amusement at her actions. It still didn’t get her what she wanted, but the vibrations from his grunt sent a jolt from her clit up her spine.
“F-fu-fuck… NGH. Alastor… p-please.”
She felt his smile, his heavily lidded gaze drifted up to meet hers. His eyes had gone black, the radio dials at the center spinning wildly as he carefully rolled her between his sharp teeth, his tongue continuing its torturous pace. One of his eyebrows cocked up at her as he increased his pace, a clear question in the expression. The fire in his look made her roll her hips against him, coating the lower half of his face in more of her arousal.
Charlie wanted to smack him. And had she had the high brain function to release his antlers, she might have. As it was her whole world had narrowed to the way his tongue was speeding up, sending fresh waves of heat over her and tightening her muscles, only to have him slow. On the third reputation, her heels dug into his back on either side of his spine, forcing him further against her. Alastor gave a little huff, the warm air a shock on the damp curls covering her mound, before his hands came up to grip the round globes of her rear, removing any remaining space between them.
Something thick teased against her entrance causing Charlie to open her mouth to cry out, only to have something shove itself past her lips and almost down her throat. One of Alastor’s tentacles pushed between her legs, familiarly stretching her while a second filled her mouth.
It wasn’t the same as when he sank into her – his hot breath against her ear and neck, the ache of her muscles stretching to accommodate him, the panting groan when he was finally snug inside her – but it was as close as he would allow. She’d asked once (after he’d sat in a chair, watching his tentacle pounding into her) why he didn’t just make it a perfect replica of his cock. He could do it, she knew he could, she’d seen him twist it into some truly unique shapes after all. His answer had been delivered with a sly twist of his mouth before he silenced her, his tentacle starting its relentless pace again and his cock slipping past her lips, his hand fisted tightly in her hair.
“You are mine, and I want you to crave me the way I crave you.” It hadn’t been till much later when she was face down on the bed, panting, dripping with his release, and completely spent that it occurred to her what he meant. Alastor didn’t want anything but his cock to fill her like that.
The edges of her vision began to blur as his tentacle pistoned into her, curling as it went to drag against that little patch of flesh that made her roll her hips and had her panting against the second tentacle that mirrored the first while filling her mouth. Charlie’s head tipped back, saliva sliding from the corners of her mouth as Alastor sucked hard on her.
He pulled back, a tentacle darting in to mimic his mouth as he grinned up at her. She looked the picture of lust. He absently wondered how long she could continue like this, but perhaps a better question was how long he was willing to wait. The answer in the moment was not long, that was a game for another night. Alastor dove back in, displacing the tentacle and sending it up to split the front of her shirt, sending buttons ricocheting across the hall. It split, yanking the cups of her bra down so her breasts spilled out before latching onto the stiff peaks of her nipples. It was the last straw, and Charlie tipped over the edge, her thighs clamping around his head as she shook, her desperate keening stifled by the shadowy tentacle still in her mouth.
Alastor continued with long, languid strokes of his tongue; swirling it over her entrance as his tentacles retreated, so he could catch every last drop he’d wrung from her. Removing the one that had been muffling her cries was a mistake. Charlie let out a hoarse moan of his name, not too loudly, but enough that a door down the hall opened, a head poking out to try and find the source of the noise.
“Hello?” Vaggie called, a groggy edge to her voice as she looked back and forth.
He felt a perverse sense of pleasure. He had Charlotte Morningstar, princess of hell, almost entirely naked and moaning his name while her former paramour stood not fifteen feet from them, completely ignorant of the situation. It was entirely likely that she’d heard at least some of Charlie’s debauched noises, even if the fallen angel hadn’t been able to identify them. Alastor let the cocoon of shadow contract around himself and the princess, the hall and its confused occupant vanishing in a swirl of darkness.
The light that greeted them as the shadows pulled back was the warm red-orange of a fire. It flickered and danced around the room, chasing the shadows across the walls and floor. Alastor dropped Charlie to his bed, wisps of shadow cushioning her fall as he began to strip. She blinked slowly, glancing around before her gaze settled back on him, one pointed tooth snagging on her lower lip.
“Well, my dear, you don’t need to worry about being quiet any longer.”