Archive of Our Own ^beta

Charlie wasn’t thrilled to meet her mother’s new husband — no, she was livid. 

Truthfully, she hadn’t even known that her mother had been dating anyone at all. They never spoke much during the rare times that she was home, and when they did, it was all formalities and the typical niceties that were expected of a mother and daughter, with none of the warmth or familiarity. Charlie had been born with a silver spoon in her mouth, and with that came certain expectations. Her mother had worked hard to drill impeccable manners into her, like carefully refining some sort of precious metal until it was flawless, at least she did before she and Father had broken up. Now, Charlie was lucky if she could even get her mother to take any interest in the stilted conversations they rarely engaged in at the dinner table. 

How was your day? 

It was fine, thank you. And yours?

Just as well. Work has been a pain.

Oh, really, what happened?

It was at that point that her mother would usually get some kind of business phone call, excuse herself from the table, and attend to whatever frequent emergency required her attention for the rest of the night. 

Honestly, she wondered when her mom even had the time to start dating. It wasn’t like she spent any of that time at home — or with her. Charlie had whittled away so much time alone in the large manor that her father insisted on paying for even after the divorce had been officially finalized, even though her mother really didn’t need him to. It was their family home, and when he had moved out, the emptiness that he left behind was cavernous and cold. She wandered about its halls when she didn’t pack her schedule with school, volunteering, or spending time with friends, and it never stopped feeling so large.

Hollow. 

And now, Mother would be filling it with a man meant to take the place of her father. 

"Honey, this is Alastor. Alastor, my daughter," Lilith said primly as if she were introducing coworkers to each other. Charlie suspected that wasn't far off from how she viewed the two of them, or at least how she expected them to interface with each other.

Charlie leveled a terse expression at the man sitting in her father's spot at the table.

"Pleased to meet you again, Charlie!" the tall man chirped, holding out a too-friendly hand. Charlie had to wrack her memory for a moment to piece together what he meant. Right, she thought she recognized that impish grin — she'd met him months ago at one of her father's company parties. She neither remembered nor cared what Alastor's role in the company was, though if she thought really hard about it, she vaguely recalled him and her mother sharing drinks and idle chatter at the periphery of the party. It hadn't been her problem or her business. Unfortunately, now it was both.

"Alastor," Charlie said in place of a real greeting. A simple acknowledgment of who he was. Alastor. No family member of hers, as far as she was concerned.

Lilith hadn't even done Charlie the courtesy of a cloying 'I'm going to remarry, and I still love you very much' talk. Just drifted into the kitchen one day while Charlie packed herself a lunch for school and announced, "Charlotte, darling, I plan to remarry. A quiet thing, no ceremony. Will you be around next month to meet him?"

Even now, as she glared at the man in question across the table, Charlie felt a phantom echo of the pain that had torn across her heart in the kitchen that day. She'd always felt like her desire for her parents' love was a hunger never fulfilled like she was a sickly animal that could never eat quite enough. She felt that more profoundly than ever before, staring into the face of a man she barely knew, who apparently had what it took to sweep her mother off her feet and chase away the shadows Lucifer had left behind without Charlie hardly knowing he even existed to begin with.

Lilith cast Charlie a tired look, too indifferent to escalate the emotion to anger or hurt. She stood from the table and wandered off, probably in search of a wine bottle. In the stiff silence of being left with each other, Alastor chuckled, perhaps to lighten the atmosphere, but it felt more like mockery to Charlie. "No need to look so upset, my dear. I promise I'll take good care of you and your mother!"

"Let's get one thing straight here," Charlie hissed, leaning across the table. She was normally a peacemaker, a mediator, but this situation crossed a line that she couldn't be quiet about. "I love my dad, and nobody's going to replace him. I assume you make Mom happy, and good for you, I guess. Just leave me out of it. You are not my father, and I'm never going to talk to you like you are."

The corners of his mouth tugged upwards, but the man's expression seemed incrementally more relaxed, which was not the desired effect of Charlie's ultimatum. "That's perfectly fine by me, sweetheart."

He took the conversation in so much stride that one could almost think he was pleased with it — a sentiment that made Charlie sit back in her seat with a discontented frown and a swirl of confused emotions. When Lilith returned, Charlie tuned out their aimless chatter for the rest of the night, plagued by a stubborn thought that she couldn't materialize into words for herself.

Charlie grew accustomed to her mother leaving on long business trips ages ago. Still, in the past, those absences had at least meant Lucifer tried to be around more for shared dinners, brought her little gifts and snacks on his way home from the company, and texted her to make sure she locked up before bed if he was working late. Lucifer was guilty of being almost just as overworked as Lilith, but he'd always try to fill the void in small ways when it was just him and Charlie. Now that he was a city over in an apartment Charlie hadn't even gotten to see for herself yet, he put no such effort in. A weekly text to remind her he loved her — if that. Of course, the divorce had been hard on him, and Charlie was trying to be mindful of that, but damn it, it was hard on her, too, and she wished so badly she felt like she could confide that to either of her parents without being brushed off.

A naturally people-loving person, Charlie hated isolation, but being left alone with Lilith's new husband was a whole new form of torture. 

He was always around, popping out of corners or materializing into any room she found herself in without so much as a peep, always lurking. The manor was large, yet Alastor seemed to occupy every corner, nook, and cranny, grinning the moment he spotted her before trying to engage her in some kind of bid for conversation or — ugh, bonding.  He was like a shadow — her shadow. Charlie had learned that much from spending a single day with him after her mother’s pitiful attempt at an introduction to her new “Stepfather.”  

The following day, Lilith returned to doing what she did best and disappeared. 

Charlie awoke to a text message. It was brusque and formal, leaving no room for misinterpretation — Lilith was nothing if not efficient.

‘Work called. I had to catch a morning flight out of the country and will return later this week. Let Alastor know if you need anything. He’ll be staying with you while I’m away.’

Of course, he would be. 

She inhaled sharply as if stung. Mother could be so bitterly callous that Charlie wondered if her memories of Lilith’s warmth during her childhood were nothing more than wondrous dreams she had conjured up in an attempt to quiet the longing that clawed at her chest like the sharpened talons of a wild beast. A cavern had been ripped into her breast, gaping and deep. With each passing day, those frayed edges tore a little wider. 

Charlie resisted the urge to throw her phone against one of the pink walls in her bedroom. She could feel the dread rising, clogging her throat thickly with what felt like tar. It made breathing difficult, but this was a common enough affliction that she knew how to handle it. Her father had taught her when she was still a child —  “It’s alright, my little apple pie,” Lucifer would say as he cupped her cheeks, making her look into his eyes to keep them from darting around. “Look at me. I’m here, and you’re okay. We’re just going to count to ten, okay? Then, you’ll be right as rain! Daddy promises! And does Daddy ever lie?” She squeezed her phone hard to her chest before grounding herself with deep, steady breaths. Charlie counted slowly and carefully, and just as Lucifer had promised, she felt the beat of her heart slow to something more even as her breath grew shallow and manageable. 

She chuckled, acid coating her tongue; even after all this time, that still worked. She had long since learned that Lucifer was a liar, but at least he didn’t lie about that.

Charlie lay there, staring at the stark white of her ceiling for several more minutes before her restlessness and growling tummy forced her out of bed. 

She didn’t foresee herself running into Alastor that morning. It was still early, and the room that Alastor now shared with her mother was located on the west wing, on the opposite side of the manor, which included its own amenities like a kitchenette and a small dining area. She figured that he would spend most of his time there and far away from her after her mother had all but dumped her on him. While she didn’t know or want to know much about him, she imagined he couldn’t be very happy about that, right?  

She rubbed at her eyes as she entered her kitchenette, thinking that she would make herself some tea. She kept the lavender tea that Lucifer would sometimes make for her in the wake of a panic attack in the past, though she hadn’t needed it in some time. Charlie had gotten good at managing her moods, but it seemed like her mother's sudden absence had thrown her into another bout of anxiety. She walked aimlessly to the kitchenette’s cabinets, opening them and reaching for her favorite mug. It had been a gift from her father after he’d first taught her to brew the tea that calmed her shaky nerves. 

The mug was white, covered in yellow ducks that Lucifer had painstakingly painted onto the porcelain. Some of them even had her long blonde hair. Charlie smiled, fingers lightly tracing over one of the ducks as she gingerly picked it up, holding it close to her chest. 

“A lovely morning today, isn’t it, Charlotte?” Alastor’s chipper voice cut through her thoughts like nails dragging upon a chalkboard. Her body tensed hard, fingers flexing around her mug as it slipped from her fingers. She scrambled to grab the mug before it crashed to the floor and just barely managed it as her index finger hooked under the handle, stopping its descent. She whipped around, eyes narrowed and body rigid like a frightened cat poised to strike. 

Alastor sat at the small dining table beside the kitchenette island she often used for studying, legs crossed as he sipped from his mug. He looked relaxed, smiling effortlessly as though he weren’t horribly out of place in her little kitchenette. Like he belonged there. 

His lips pressed together as he sealed them into a closed smile, “Jumpy, aren’t you?” His eyes crinkled, thoroughly amused — like causing her to jump out of her skin had just made his entire day.

Her heart pounded with dizzying intensity as she struggled to calm herself. Charlie inhaled sharply, slamming the cabinet closed with more force than was probably necessary. She just couldn’t help it. Yesterday had been a nightmare, and to make matters worse, her new “Stepfather” was jump-scaring her now. She wasn’t sure what her face looked like, but it was enough to soften the edge of Alastor’s grin as he held out his hands in a placating gesture. “Ease yourself, darling. Why, it’s just me!” 

That was exactly the problem! “What are you doing here?” Charlie hissed through her teeth, setting her mug on the counter before inspecting it for any cracks. 

"I thought maybe you'd get lonely all by yourself," he answered, and it frustrated Charlie that he saw through her so easily. "It's a big place. Feels all the more empty without anyone else around, don't you think?"

Charlie treated his question as rhetorical and went back to her task. The tea felt even more necessary than it had before.

"Hungry? I could make something."

She squinted at him. Her reflex was to turn down his pesky attempts at bridging the gap between them, but her stomach growled again, and the dry cereal she'd had every morning for the past week didn't look appetizing anymore, so she gruffly assented. Alastor was on his feet and in her space in an instant, navigating the kitchen amenities with too much familiarity. They had to weave past each other as Charlie attended to the kettle, and Alastor set out milk, butter, eggs, pans, cutting boards…

Once the water was hot enough, she poured it over her teabag and ambled to the pantry to find honey, groaning with dismay when she realized it was on a shelf she couldn't quite reach. Lilith must have put it there. Before she even had a chance to turn around and find a chair to drag into the kitchen, Alastor was behind her, one hand on her shoulder, his front pressed to her back as he reached over and grabbed the bottle without any trouble. He was a coat-hanger of a man, slender and towering and able to be everywhere at once, it seemed. He smelled like coffee and gunpowder.

"Here you go, sweetheart," he said as he passed the honey off and returned to the stove. Charlie hesitated at the pantry, momentarily stunned for a reason she couldn't decide on. Was she angry? Did she feel condescended to by his assistance?

She finished making her tea and sat at the table, busying herself with her phone, but she couldn't help stealing glances at Alastor as he prepared breakfast with an ease that belied repeated practice. Not that breakfast foods were all that hard to make, but he jostled a pan here, stirred the pot of grits there, cracked an egg with one hand — and, okay, that was a little bit impressive, she had to admit. She wondered if he cooked a lot for himself. She wondered if that made him more attractive to her mother. Then she stopped thinking about it altogether because some kind of weight settled in her gut at the thought, and she turned her attention back to her friend Anthony's texts about his latest disappointing hookup.

'LONG cock but did NOT know how to use it. was like being jackhammered by a giraffe. im so done with tall guys for a while, i need a short king with a fat hog,' Anthony regaled eloquently. Charlie giggled quietly to herself as she sipped her tea. She pointedly did not check her texts with her father, unwilling to see if the 'Read' label was on her last messages to him yet.

When Alastor set the completed meal in front of her, she had to clamp her mouth shut so as not to drool. The bacon was just bacon; it's hard to fuck up bacon, but the eggs were fried and steamed perfectly, and the grits smelled creamy and savory with sliced strawberries on top. She glanced between the food and the man who placed it, unsure of what to say. He just smiled and sat back down to his coffee, saying, "Enjoy," while Charlie noticed he wasn't eating.

"You're not having any?" she asked, self-conscious to be the only reason he cooked.

"Already had my breakfast. I'm happy to cook for you any time, though."

"Oh," she said, feeling arrested and inarticulate. "Well… Thank you."

He chuckled with something more than amusement shining in his expressive eyes, or did Charlie just imagine that? She fell into a contemplative silence for the rest of breakfast, scrolling her social media without really comprehending anything she read on it. Alastor stole her emptied plate away and did the dishes without being asked.

Being cared for like that made some kind of knife twist in her chest.

She was dreading doing it, but Charlie knew Lilith would ask what she'd accomplished in her absence, and she wanted something to show for it, so she set to work on looking into internships and registering for online SAT practice tests.

Her mother was less than thrilled with her decision to take a gap year after graduating from high school. Lilith had already hand-picked a school for her, somewhere prestigious and reeking of old money and prissiness. According to her mother, Pentagram University held one of the best business programs in the country, so of course, she simply had to attend. She and Lucifer had met and thrived there, and so would Charlie. Her mother’s words had left no room for questioning as Charlie shrank beneath her mother’s withering and expectant gaze. 

A perfect and simple plan, just the way Lilith liked it. 

Charlie had almost gone along with it, too. She excelled at playing the role of the good daughter who would plaster on a sickly and saccharine smile as her parents mapped out every aspect of her life—slowly unraveling her dreams as though pulling on a loose thread lest they be crushed under heel. As she stared at the college pamphlets her mother had handed her, looking at the smiling and hopeful faces of the students on the cover, she wondered, Is this going to be my life? 

“Actually,” Charlie had begun, voice small. “I was thinking of taking a gap year?” she said, less like a statement and more like a question. It was difficult to stand on anything that she felt with her mother. Lilith’s eyes widened a fraction of an inch as she stared at Charlie as though she didn’t recognize her. She didn’t speak, and Charlie took that opportunity to latch onto the quiet thoughts running fast, “I wanted to try volunteering and thinking about what I really want to do.” That was a lie. She knew exactly what she wanted to do, and it had nothing to do with business, but she knew her mother would shut this little rebellion down if she admitted to that. 

Social work? Rehabilitation for criminals and restorative justice? Her mother would laugh her right out of the room and drop her off at Pentagram University the next day. She had to play this smart. 

“—And maybe try some internships? I know Morningstar Enterprise is looking for assistance during the summer, right?” She tried as a last resort, throwing out her Dad’s company in an effort to lend this plan some credibility. When Lucifer did reply to her messages, it was to hint that he wanted her to take the position for months now and learn the family business, even if she had no intention of following through with that particular offer. The nepotism alone made her feel queasy. Her mother’s eyes softened for a moment — relieved. 

Charlie’s smile felt painted on. That was how little faith her mother had in her. 

Lilith reluctantly agreed — but there were some caveats.

For one, Charlie had to check in every few weeks with her progress on applying to different internships or volunteering opportunities. To justify the gap year, Lilith had also stipulated that she needed to pass the SAT with no less than a perfect score, so no pressure there, right? 

Charlie rubbed at her throbbing temples as she stared into the blinding white color of the SAT prep homepage. She’d signed up for a more formal practice test this week, if only to allow her to get out of the house. Sitting around doing nothing but studying was beginning to make her stir crazy, and she felt like she might just rip her face off if she had to spend another week in here doing — well, nothing. 

Idly, she scrolled through some practice questions. These were simple enough — just memorizing the definitions of a variety of different words. It was almost mind-numbingly easy. She didn’t worry much about passing the reading and writing portions of the test with a perfect score, but the math section did worry her. Charlie had always excelled in the arts, literature, and history, but the rigidity of mathematics had always flustered her. She chewed on her bottom lip as she mulled over the problem before her.  

She squinted.  

There were definitely a lot of letters mixed in with this math problem. 

“Need some help?” There was heat against her ear as Alastor’s breath brushed against it. The scent of smoke, like wood left to burn, permeated the air as her breath got stuck in her lungs. She froze like a deer caught helplessly in the high beams of an oncoming truck as she felt his hands come to rest on her shoulders. She’d opted for a tank-top today, and was regretting that choice as she felt his touch much more intensely against her bare skin. He squeezed her shoulder slightly, perhaps in what was meant to be a reassuring way, but that served to only make her more antsy, voice catching in her throat. 

Alastor had such long fingers, slender and almost delicate as they splayed like crawling spiders against her bare skin. He kneaded her shoulders, rolling her knotted muscles between his palms in a way that seemed to pulse throughout her entire body. His hands were hot to the touch, covering the entire expanse of her collarbone. 

“Charlotte, you’re stiff as a board,” he commented lightly, as though he didn’t see the problem with anything he had just done. “Are you alright?” He tried to sound concerned, but something about his tone suggested that he wasn’t entirely genuine. 

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. Alastor was still smiling, bending over slightly as he hovered behind her. She hadn’t even heard him creep up. He was silent as a corpse. 

It took her a moment to find her voice, intending to tell him off for startling her — for touching her so intimately without her consent. “It’s Charlie,” she croaked out instead. Each nerve along her skin seemed alight and entirely too aware, as though they had been seared and left exposed — raw. 

His eyes widened a fraction, almost unnoticeable. “Charlie,” he said lightly, adjusting quickly to this new information. He didn’t even press her for an explanation as her parents had when she'd first revealed her preference to them. 

"Anyway, too much hunching over desks and computers lately, is all," she jumped back to answering his question with an evasive expression, leaning away from him. "Math is gonna be the death of me. It's not like I'm ever gonna need it, or at least not this complicated…"

"You don't think you'll need it for business school?" Alastor questioned with an amused tilt of his head.

"No, not th—" and she paused, realizing that Alastor had, of course, been filled in by Lilith that Charlie was going into business, or at least she would be if Lilith was going to have anything to do with it. "Uh, yes. Right. Yeah, you've got me there."

The amused quirk to his mouth immediately betrayed that he didn't believe her. To be fair, her lie was obvious and would have been obvious to even a person less observant than Alastor. So Charlie gave up on convincing him of anything and moved on. "I'm just not sure where to start with this problem…"

He pulled up a chair next to her and tilted her laptop screen more towards himself so he could get a look at the practice test, but to her chagrin, he wasn't going to let her slip-up go by without comment. "You don't actually want to go into business, do you?" He rested his chin in his palm as he cast her a smug smile, like he'd figured her out completely.

Charlie dropped her head, already assuming the position for being admonished. "...I do," she lied weakly.

"Why hide what you really want, Charlie?"

Hearing him say her preferred name so fluently made her skip a beat. Sure, she'd just asked him to, but Lilith never honored her preference for 'Charlie,' and her dad still slipped back into 'Charlotte' when he wanted the upper hand in a conversation, as if to remind her that he had the final say in who she was. She decided to reward this small bit of compliance with some honesty. "...I want to go into social work. Specifically for… criminal rehabilitation and restorative justice." She rushed out the last part, hoping he might not hear it, perhaps misconstrue it for something a little less ambitious. "Mom wouldn't see the value in it, so I'm just… going along with what she wants until I find a way to prove otherwise to her."

Instead of the anticipated disapproval and attempts at needling her into a more respectable career path, Alastor just smiled and nodded, simply saying, "That suits you!" before explaining where to start with the long string of numbers and letters on her screen.

He made the problem easier to understand in record time, gesturing and nudging her to the correct answer with immense patience. Between the help and the unconditional acceptance of what she wanted out of her future, Charlie couldn't help but grow fonder of the man by leaps and bounds. She even continued to catch up with him once the math was coming more easily to her, asking about his day and telling him about which friends she was seeing next weekend. Alastor took in everything she offered to him with the same attentive expression, never drifting to the screen of his phone or whatever distraction was easily at hand.

It made her feel like a priority to him, an odd thought that entered her head seemingly out of nowhere, but a thought that made her feel at home in a way she hadn't in a while.

From there, Charlie mostly had her internship applications and practice tests under control; she wasn't a straight-A student for nothing. Still, the list of study sheets and job listings she needed to wade through seemed never-ending, so she found herself working in the dining room next to Alastor again, this time with him clacking along at his computer in a companionable silence.

Apparently, Alastor was able to do a good majority of his work remotely, explaining why it felt like he was always around despite having a fairly demanding position in the company. But, he admitted offhandedly one morning, working at home could get monotonous and dreary in its own way, so she'd shyly suggested they do a work session together sometime. That one time turned into more, and now it was becoming a habit for them to eat dinner and then work side-by-side. Collectively, it felt like more time than she'd spent alone with either of her parents in months, if not years.

From the safety of behind her computer screen, Charlie worked on stealing glances and piecing together a more complete image of the strange entity that'd taken up residence in her home seemingly overnight. Alastor was dark and well-kempt, Lucifer's opposite in many ways. Where Dad's hair had been straight and so blonde it was nearly straw, Alastor's was a freeform, sort of windswept mess of chestnut waves. Dad was also short, notoriously so; Alastor seemed to have to curl himself over everyone he spoke to. He squinted charmingly when he smiled — handsome by any objective definition of the word. He was much older than herself, but much younger than Lilith, which weirded Charlie out a little. Lucifer and Lilith had been separated by only a year, but she suspected Alastor was Lilith's junior by around a decade.

(She ended up searching his name along with her dad's company later, both confirming this suspicion and immediately being armed with all the information she needed to pry into a dozen random public records. Seemed he was clean of a criminal record, public controversies, or any kind of past marriages, none of which surprised Charlie, but there was a part of her that anticipated finding something unexpected.)

Regardless, Charlie had to admit to herself — Mom knew how to pick 'em. Charlie then wondered, idly, how he described her in his mind. Gangly, skinny, pale, mousy? Probably nothing quite so scathing, but the answering anxiety didn't leave her mind easily, either. She wished she could just ask him, but that'd be too much to ask of a… …A what? A stepdad, she reminded herself with a hasty shake of her head. But they'd established she didn't see him as a dad of any description, so what was the harm? If she just took an indirect approach… "Hey, Alastor… Do you think I should get a haircut?"

Without hesitation, he looked up from his work and gave Charlie a cursory sweep. "What brings that up, my dear?"

Without having given herself a chance to workshop this bluff in more detail, she found herself drawing from truths. She twirled a lock of the hair in question as she meandered. "I had an ex who said all my hair 'did nothing' for me. Which, like, real rich coming from a guy who just doused himself in hair gel every morning and called it a day, but… It did kinda make me wonder if I'd look better with short hair. Like, maybe being kinda tall and scrawny with long hair just makes me look like a wild horse. Hahaha."

Alastor leveled a severe expression at her from behind folded hands, the likes of which she'd never seen from him before. She wilted reflexively, quick to assume she'd done something wrong. "Who said that? What ex?"

"Huh? Uh, there's no way you'd know him, haha, we dated back in freshman year…" She didn't even know Alastor then.

"You're perfectly fine the way you are, Charlie," he said, voice sharp, almost irate, but Charlie gradually came to understand that his irritation was over her charm being questioned in the first place. "Don't let some tasteless brat tell you any different."

Charlie giggled with the urge to tell him that the ex in question was the same age as her, but she bit it back for some reason. This wasn't the trajectory she expected her compliment-fishing to go in at all, though she wasn't necessarily complaining. She couldn't help but preen internally at his assurance. "I wasn't too worried about it. It just got stuck in my head, I guess. Besides, it has been kind of hot lately, so maybe short hair wouldn't be the worst idea…"

The man reached across the table with a serious expression that pinned her in place. That was why she didn't move as he smoothed her bangs down, tucking a stray lock behind her ear with an excess of gentleness, something simmering in his eyes, or at least, that's what she told herself. "You'd look lovely either way, darling."

It wasn't the first or last time he'd call her darling — hell, he probably just picked it up from Lilith. But still. Still. It made her mouth feel dry for the briefest moment. She muttered some kind of vague thank you and turned back to her computer. That was enough fishing for compliments for one evening, she'd decided.

As the days passed, she and Alastor fell into a comfortable routine. In the mornings, Charlie would wake up to the inviting scent of cooking breakfast as Alastor laid out a spread for her to revel in while she blinked the sleep from her eyes. 

Her parents had never indulged much in cooking in general, but especially not breakfast. They would all much rather sleep in during their downtime. Her father sometimes made pancakes on Sundays, but that practice grew less and less common as friction grew between him and Lilith. After five days straight of waking up to savory grits, buttery biscuits with gravy, and omelets so perfectly made that they melted in her mouth, she asked Alastor directly why he even bothered. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, my dear,” he reminded her with a wide grin, eyes crinkled with an emotion that resembled warmth. “Almost as important as beginning your day with a smile!” 

He tapped one of her cheeks, and when she smiled, it didn’t feel the slightest bit forced. 

Alastor hunched down toward her, his face coming dangerously close to hers. “Now, why would you hide such loveliness from the world?” 

Something flashed in his eyes — something that burned hotter than simple amusement or affection. She’d also seen it once before, after she’d thanked him the first time he had made her breakfast, but she still couldn’t recognize what it was. Not completely, anyway. It couldn’t be what she had begun to quietly hope for, though. Could it? Her chest felt oddly light, giddy, perhaps. It was difficult to stop smiling when she was the focus of such praise. 

Charlie wasn’t sure how she looked, but she did seem to please Alastor. 

“There you go,” he commented before giving her head a doting pat. “That’s a good girl,” Alastor remarked, his lips curling into a mischievous and rugged grin. He had a dimple in his right cheek, and in the right lighting, his eyes looked almost hazel. How had she not noticed that before? Charlie felt a stutter inside of her, heart pulsing erratically as though it had been jolted back to life with a defibrillator. 

She stared, captivated. There was something about this moment that felt profound. But why was that? Charlie couldn’t put a name to it, and Alastor backed off, turning his attention back to plating her breakfast before she could think more about it. 

Charlie decided not to dwell on it. She enjoyed the simplicity of the routine that she and Alastor had established. It felt almost domestic, eating breakfast in the mornings and studying in the afternoons while Alastor completed his work on his laptop or engaged in lengthy business conversations over the phone. 

Sometimes, he’d speak in such a biting yet strangely jovial tone as though he were gleefully tearing apart whoever was on the other line with his words. “If it were up to me, I would’ve had you fired and removed from the premises for even suggesting such a ridiculous idea—” 

He never spoke to her in such a way, and she found herself wondering what he was like at work. Her mother could also be quite shrewd when it came to business. Was this the side of him that had attracted Lilith to Alastor in the first place? 

Intriguing. 

Alastor was like an overly complicated puzzle that she wanted to spend hours completing, filling out each section bit by bit until she revealed the full picture of who he was. She’d uncovered a little in the time spent together over the last few weeks. The man, who was supposedly her stepdad, could be rude and outright mean to his employees if he viewed them as incompetent.

(Admittedly, Charlie didn’t like that much. Speaking so callously to people who couldn’t really talk back and defend themselves from their boss seemed overly cruel, and she’d told him so. He’d laughed at that, saying he’d ease up on them if it made her happy. He didn’t want to do anything that would make her lose that pretty smile for even a second. Charlie had flushed, then,  sufficiently forgetting all about what she had previously scolded him for.)

He was also always kind to her. Sure, he was a little weird and overly touchy, but perhaps that was just one of his eccentricities. She could also be quite physically affectionate around her friends and family and thrived on physical touch. Maybe he was the same way? She wondered how he would react if she ever tried to hug him. She didn’t see him as a father — no, her nose crinkled in distaste even at the thought of that, but considering that he was now such a constant fixture in her life, maybe they could be friends? 

It was normal to hug friends, right?

She watched him sometimes, too, as he worked. Or when he cooked or moved about the manor. With his broad shoulders and tall, wiry frame, he looked like he would give great hugs — like he would swallow up and envelop whoever was wrapped up in his long arms. Charlie wanted to be held like that, completely engulfed within a person, kept safe and warm. She wondered if Alastor could do that for her. 

Charlie was being foolish. As much as she wanted to be friends with him, that wasn’t and probably couldn’t be the nature of their relationship. Even so, she couldn’t help but want it. 

She scoffed at her strange line of thought. Asking her stepfather, whom she didn’t even see as a father, for a hug? She knew that would never happen. She was certain of that. 

— And yet, she’d been wrong. 

After nearly two weeks of living with Alastor uninterrupted, Lilith texted, explaining that she would also be gone for the next month and that something had come up. Charlie had been in her room at the time, scrolling through social media, when the message had come in. Her mother always delivered such devastating news with this air of detached nonchalance, like she was speaking to a stranger rather than her own daughter. It stung each time. Her father at least tried to dress up some of his dismissiveness with sugary words, pet names, and false promises that he’d make it up to her next time.

(He never did. Lucifer was always too busy, even if he was always apologetic.)

He at least said he missed her, even if he did a terrible job of showing it. Her mother couldn’t even be bothered to do that. She’d never been gone for over a month at a time before, but maybe she didn’t feel so bad staying away for even longer now that there was someone here to babysit her daughter. Maybe it wouldn’t be long until she never came home ever again. Then, Charlie would have both a completely absent father and mother.

Her parents couldn’t wait to get away from her, it seemed. If it was both parents, then the issue had to be her, right? 

It felt like she was breathing through a straw, her lungs growing tight as her vision grew hazy. Her breath came fast and harsh, and it was as though she couldn’t get enough oxygen into her lungs no matter how hard she tried to. Her room, filled with all of her favorite things, like the pictures of her friends lining the wall, and plushes that she felt too attached to throw out, or the ceramic lamb that Anthony got for her because she told him that she liked lambs one time (that sat on the nightstand near her bed) — did little to comfort her. In fact, it felt as though she were suffocating in here.

Like the walls were closing in.

Alone —  always alone. 

She choked, eyes blurring with tears. 

Count to ten, she thought, clutching at her chest as she began to count to herself. 1… 2… 3… — 

She’d already counted four times before realizing it wasn’t helping like it normally did. 

Charlie clutched at her sheets, but even the firmness of the sheets did little to tether her back to reality. Her world was spinning rapidly, terror running like ice in her veins. She didn’t even realize that she was sobbing, stumbling out of her room until she was already halfway down the hall. Her cheeks felt wet and raw as she walked unsteadily.

To where? She wasn’t sure. She just knew that she couldn’t stay alone in that room anymore. Her legs felt like lead with each step she took, yet she shouldn’t stop. 

She had to get away — 

“Charlie?” She heard Alastor’s voice, cutting through the panicked fog. She blinked rapidly before realizing that she had practically run into the living room. Alastor was at the table again, a cup of coffee in hand, like always when he worked, and the relief that flooded through her was immediate. He was here. 

Alastor was up quickly, reaching her on his long legs in no time. His hands rested on her shoulders carefully, an uncharacteristically serious expression on his face. He almost seemed… worried. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he asked, a large hand reaching up to cup her cheek. It was — nice, warm, and soothing against her skin. Grounding. “What can I do?”

Her knees buckled, and she felt that they were about to give out. They might have, had Alastor’s arms not encircled her, holding her steady. 

It was difficult to speak, “P-Panic attack—” she managed to say, hoping that he would understand. Her words were a shaky and jumbled mess, “J-Just d-don’t go,” Charlie trembled, “Don’t leave me.”

It was strange to see Alastor without the usual smile that graced his lips. His eyes were intense, a light brown speckled with flecks of color that almost looked garnet. “I’d never,” he promised, sounding so sincere that Charlie found another sob building in her throat. When was the last time that someone had ever promised her something like that? When was the last time she had ever believed them? 

Alastor swooped her into his arms as though she weighed nothing, but she was still too distressed to be very embarrassed by that. He was careful with her in his arms, walking towards the nearby sofa and settling her on his lap as he sat down, cradling her close. She could hear the buzz of static white noise filling her head, but the sturdiness of his body reduced some of the noise, like a dial being turned down. 

Dizzily, Charlie thought that she had been right.

He did give good hugs.

“Look at me, darling,” Alastor encouraged. It was a soft command but oddly easy to follow even through the irrational fear that coursed through her. She looked into his eyes, and he smiled —  the most gentle one that she had seen on him yet. “Good girl. You listen well, don’t you?”

Charlie nodded tiredly. His smile widened. “Good. Then, you can keep listening to me, right?”

She nodded again. She’d listen to whatever he said as long as he kept speaking to her like this. 

She flinched as she felt his hand come up to rest against her chest, right in between her breasts. He was careful not to touch them, though, instead pressing where Charlie could feel the stutter of her erratic heartbeat. “I want you to breathe, sweetheart.” The pet name sounded so nice on his lips. Somehow, just hearing that order was enough to calm the shallowness of her breath, allowing her to take in the oxygen that had previously been elusive to her.

“In,” Alastor ordered, and she obeyed, breathing in deeply, greedily as the air filled her lungs. His eyes crinkled, pleased. “And now — out,” he said, and she exhaled. It felt so easy to do with Alastor’s careful guidance. 

She closed her eyes, leaning her head against his chest. She could hear the beat of his heart, too. Charlie had expected it to be steady and calm — that was the energy he was giving off now, though it was anything but. It pulsed rapidly with a wild franticness that left her bemused. Was he scared, too, maybe? 

Frightened, but still helping to calm her —  she’s not sure why that thought made her swell with so much affection, but it did. Her heart was so gorged that it might just overflow. Perhaps that was why she rested her palm on his cheek, turning his face towards her. Alastor’s eyes grew large, and she would have laughed had she not been still so dizzy. Then, she reached up just enough to brush her lips against his other cheek. 

When Charlie drew back, the expression on Alastor’s face was unreadable. His gaze was penetrating, eyes searching before a grin broke out across his face.

“Oh, Charlie,” he breathed, a slight tremor in his voice. “What am I going to do with you?” 

Going out with friends during a period of anxiety was always a toss-up on whether it'd make Charlie feel better or worse, and she was quickly finding out this time it was the latter. Feeling listless and confused from her panic attack the previous day, she'd almost reflexively responded to Molly's invitation text with a "hell no", but she knew she'd be likely to mope around in bed all day otherwise, so she went out on a limb and hoped a little bit of clubbing would free her from her slump. As much as she felt a twinge of guilt for lying about her age to get in with her older friends…

And for all her trouble to attend, being there was just overstimulating her. A few too many mediocre guys had tried to grind against her on the dance floor, all of her emotional support female best friends were scattered among the thick crowd, and Anthony was chatting up a cute short guy at the bar, and Charlie wasn't about to torpedo his dreams of a short king with a… what did he call it again? A fat hog? That recollection made her smile, at the very least.

She stumbled out the front door of the establishment after a lot of elbowing people unwilling to clear a path for her. Once outside, she took in a huge gulp of the fresh evening air and adjusted the hem of her dress, which kept riding up a little higher than she'd like. It'd been too long since she'd partied like this; Lilith kept a tight leash on Charlie's academic schedule, even during this gap year. A night of revelry should have felt like liberation, but instead, she just wanted to go home, a sentiment she rarely held when neither of her parents was around to return to.

Feeling a little fragile at the thought, she pulled up her texts and scrolled to Dad. As she suspected, her messages had been read, but no replies yet. She tapped on his profile and hovered a finger over the call button, but when she thought about how much her heart would ache if she got redirected to his voicemail, she decided she couldn't handle that right now. At the top of her contacts, though, was Alastor. She'd never called him before, and they only texted each other when one of them had brought or made food for the other. Would he pick up? He worked from home a lot, but he was still an incredibly busy man, and she wasn't even sure what she'd say to him. But after he'd been so gentle with her yesterday…

Her face heated slightly. She swallowed and hit the call button.

It rang twice before he picked up, which made Charlie realize she'd developed a habit of counting rings. What a bleak habit. "Charlie? Everything alright?"

His immediate concern melted away the sharp icicles of loneliness. She'd briefly let him know as she left the house that she was going out with friends, so maybe he suspected something had gone amiss. "H-hi!! Yeah! I'm okay. Just, uh. I think I'm gonna walk home, and I wanted someone to keep me company. But if you're busy—"

"Not at all. I was just about to cook something, but I can put you on speaker easily. If you haven't eaten yet, I'll make enough for two."

"If… if it's not too much trouble! I do love your cooking," she admitted bashfully. She felt she owed him a bit more friendliness after how much they'd been bonding lately, and especially after he'd actually picked up her call.

"How far of a walk are you?"

She took a moment to glance at her GPS. "Forty minutes." Not the best but not the worst. It was a chilly day, and the sun was already tucked behind the horizon.

"And none of your friends offered to drive you home…?"

"I didn't ask. They're all still having fun, so I didn't wanna kill the vibe. I just thought the club kinda sucked, so I figured I'd just see myself out like a big girl." She laughed wryly.

"Just text me your location. I'll pick you up."

Everything in her gut told her to refuse the generous offer. Far too many times, she'd accepted a kindness from her parents at face value, only to realize they expected her to repay the favor, or that they actually felt deeply inconvenienced by the wrinkle in their perfectly curated daily schedules, or that they were disappointed in her for getting into a situation she needed bailing out of. At the same time, a selfish wishfulness twisted up inside her throat. The idea of being doted on, of being precious enough to protect, was one almost too luxurious for her to entertain. She swallowed down the accompanying anxiety she felt as she meekly replied, "...Okay. I'll send it now. Thank you, Alastor…"

"Of course, sweetheart! Be there in a jiffy."

He was, indeed, there in a 'jiffy.' He pulled up to the curb, much more dressed down than Charlie had ever seen him outside of the house; it was clear he'd come straight away. As she slid into the passenger side, feeling self-conscious and residually nervous that he'd act coldly towards her for inconveniencing him, he reached over and pinched her cheek. "You poor thing! You must have been freezing waiting out there, wearing so little."

She blushed and adjusted the top of her dress this time, realizing she'd left her jacket with one of her friends. Finding words was harder than ever. But she took note of the fondness in his voice, not a hint of resentment in sight. "...I really appreciate you showing up on such short notice."

Alastor waited for her to buckle in before shifting back into drive. "You were just a quick drive away. Seemed more prudent than making a pretty thing like you walk home alone in the dark, don't you think?"

Charlie had only had one drink at the club, but her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton. Was she crazy? Was what he just said to her appropriate for a stepfather? Was she the one crossing over some kind of boundary? And why was the thought so exhilarating? "Yeah," she agreed, short and simple. She couldn't find anything more above board to say.

"Are you sure you're alright? You seem a little shaken."

"I'm fine, really! Just… The place was too crowded, and my friends all kinda split up to do their own thing when I thought we were going to stick together, and I just got grabbed a few too many times by creeps, which, like, I know that's a part of the clubbing experience, but I'm just not in the headspace for that right now…" She caught herself welling up in the side view mirror, so she cleared her throat and angled for indifference. "My own fault for being irresponsible today, I guess!"

With Alastor's eyes trained on the road, she was able to stealthily take in his side profile. He looked thoughtful, his usual smile absent. His lashes were long. His hands on the wheel were large — fingers as long and artistic as ever — nails short and even — sturdy and handsome. "You've had your face in the books all week. Hardly irresponsible to give your mind a break! But I'm sorry to hear the other patrons couldn't keep their goddamned hands to themselves."

The acidity of his words almost made her think for a moment that he was angry at her, but she realized quickly it was directed at her unfortunate experience. "Th-thanks. For caring, I mean! Sorry for making you deal with my bullshit so much this week, ha."

She really had been such a short drive away. They were already pulling into the driveway. Alastor parked and turned the key, then angled towards her with an unfamiliar cast to his expression. It was somber, searching… For what, she didn't know. Or rather, she didn't want to get her hopes up.

"You haven't made me deal with anything, Charlie. I'm here willingly." He leaned across the center console, close enough for her to smell the faded remnants of his cologne. His hand at her cheek radiated warmth as he brushed her hair back, seemingly fixing it, but it felt more like he was busying himself idly. She wanted to lean into his affectionate gesture as much as she wanted to run away. If he got any closer, he might realize how fast her heart was beating, and she was already mortified at the thought of what he'd make of that. "I know I haven't been in your life for long, and you don't see me as a parent, but you are still mine, aren't you?"

His wording set her entire body ablaze. She felt a wash of deep, dark shame as she squeezed her legs together and clenched her fists. He just meant he viewed her as something adjacent to a daughter but didn't want to piss her off by asserting a paternal position. No need to read more into it. "Yes," she replied, her voice more of a whisper than she wanted it to be.

But he grinned in satisfaction as if she'd given him the correct answer, smoothing her curls back with an affectionate measure of pressure. His attention felt all-consuming, a supplement to everything she'd never realized she was lacking. The moment hung several seconds longer than it should have. It let in thoughts and feelings that Charlie had just barely been keeping at bay. She felt it was her responsibility to pull away and spare both of them, but once again that selfish knot in her throat immobilized her. It felt like a tangle of words. Things she wanted to say and couldn't. This wasn't being helped by Alastor looking at her with all the patience in the world, like he'd wait forever for her to find her voice again.

"That's my girl," he said after what felt like an eternity. "Now, let's get some dinner going, shall we?"

The spell broke, and they leaned away to let themselves out of the car. Charlie hated how profoundly she felt the loss of his hands. She'd never known anyone whose touch made her feel quite so special.

Silence prevailed during their shared meal. Alastor seemed to assume she was still in a funk from the bad outing and avoided pestering her too much beyond small questions of whether she wanted this or that. Stuck in a daze, Charlie thanked him for the drive and the meal, apologized for not having much of an appetite, and decided to excuse herself to an early bedtime. Her mind was in desperate need of exorcising, and it seemed she wasn't going to be able to accomplish that in Alastor's company.

As she walked past him, he caught one of her wrists, which made the pulse in her veins flutter erratically.

"Even if you don't view me as a father," he reiterated for the second time that night, “would you hate it if I gave my little doe a kiss good night?"

Charlie had to clamp her mouth closed to contain any noises of surprise. She knew she needed to respond right away, that any pause she gave would either come across as resistance, or worse — he'd figure out that her feelings were veering off course. Unfortunately, this also meant she blurted exactly what she wanted without any filter. "I wouldn't hate that at all."

She braced herself for a quick peck on the cheek, and what she got was him reeling her in by the shoulders, nuzzling against her in a nearly feline manner before laying his closed mouth against hers in what was ultimately a brief second of contact. However, it was still so much more than she could have ever expected. He squinted at her with a look of devotion before freeing her with a wave and a polite 'good night.'

Charlie choked out an echoed good night and hurried to bed, not even bothering to brush her teeth or change into pajamas. She curled up into a ball under her blankets and, once assured of her solitude, allowed herself to touch her lips. They tingled with discontent — an ache for more. The realization made her feel sick to her stomach with guilt and confusion, so she begged any gods that might be listening to make it so that her feelings were just a misplaced side effect of the singular elicit drink she had hours ago, and that she'd feel normal once she'd slept it off.

But heaven did not hear her plea. Her stomach did flips all night.

That damned kiss haunted her. 

Charlie didn’t get much sleep the following week. No. She spent most of the nights tossing and turning, thoughts racing as she recounted that moment in her mind repeatedly. The kiss itself hadn’t lasted particularly long, but every aspect of it burned brightly in her memory. Alastor’s lips weren’t chapped and rough as Seviathan’s had been. No, they were softer than she could have ever possibly imagined.

(And she hated to admit that even before the kiss, she had thought about kissing him often). 

He hadn’t closed his eyes when he’d kissed her, and the action had been too sudden for her to close hers, either. That close, she had noticed how long his lashes were — how his hazel eyes looked almost golden in the soft, warm lighting of the dining room. There had been affection in his gaze and something else. Longing, perhaps? 

Or hunger? 

Or was she simply projecting the twisted reflection of feelings that she knew only existed in her own heart?

As confusing as Alastor’s behavior toward her had been, there was no way that he wanted her like that. He was older — a grown man who was established. For God's sake, he’d married her mother. Lilith was gorgeous, full-figured, and had more confidence in her pinky than Charlie possessed in her entire body. She was nothing but a too-tall waif of a girl, lonely and desperate enough to desire a man just because he was kind to her.

He’s married to your mother, she reminded herself firmly. Even if she had a crush, it could and would go nowhere. The alternative was far too disturbing for her even to consider. 

These feelings were sick, they were wrong — and they could not be acted upon.

Charlie knew that well.

That knowledge, however, didn’t stop her hand from drifting lower each time she was alone in her room. It was impossible to ignore the ache that persisted between her legs when it was late at night. The darkness that flooded her bedroom had a way of permeating through her skin, filling her lower belly with a craving that only made her loneliness that much more palpable. Charlie choked on that feeling — that heat, as she rubbed at her throbbing clit. 

She was embarrassingly wet. She could hear the slickness as her fingers sank into an emptiness that begged to be filled. 

She thought of his smile, so large and inviting even with the oversized canines that she had noticed one day when he had thrown back his head and laughed. Charlie wondered how it would feel to be bitten by them, to feel those teeth tearing into her skin with the same enthusiasm with which he did all other things. She thought of his eyes, ardent and penetrating. He peeled back the layers of the eager-to-please daughter, the good girl who worked too hard for the approval of parents who took little interest in her and saw her. 

His fingers were long and elegant like a pianist's. How would it feel to have those same fingers buried inside of her? They were so much thicker than hers that he wouldn’t even need to try to find the places inside of her that would bring her to rapture. Then again, Alastor would just know, wouldn’t he? He’d know just where to touch — how hard she liked it — how she needed it to be. He’d said it himself, after all.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?”

Charlie had to bite her pillow as she came, holding back the scream that built in her throat and muffling the name that lingered at the tip of her tongue. There was relief in the aftermath, but it was a temporary thing before the guilt set in. That shame had a weight to it, sitting so heavily on her chest that she wondered if her ribs might crack from the force. Or at least, that’s how it felt. 

She really was awful.

Charlie started to avoid Alastor after that night.

It started with little things, sleeping in past the time that they normally had breakfast together. When he texted her, she’d claim that she was too tired. She’d tell him that she stayed up late studying (and while it was true that sleep had eluded her, it wasn’t due to any academic pursuits). During the day, she made sure to stay out of the house. Charlie called up Anthony, who was all too happy to distract her from the minefield of confusing feelings that she found herself in the middle of. All it took was one text, and within the hour, the two of them were sitting at her favorite local cafe as she shoveled spoonfuls of a plentiful sundae into her mouth. 

“—and you shoulda seen his dick, Charles! Fat as a can of coke. I could barely even get it in me. We had to lube up for a whole 20 minutes, but holy shit, once we got it in, it was totally worth it—”

She was only half paying attention, but she figured that Anthony’s night with his short king must have gone well if he was gushing like this. Charlie felt her phone buzz in her pocket and winced. It was 2 PM, usually around the time that she and Alastor had lunch. Despite her dodging him for the entire week, he still dutifully texted her to ask her if she wanted to eat with him or to check up on her while she was out of the house since the clubbing incident. 

The guilt clawed at her chest, leaving stinging wounds behind. She really was the worst—

“Sooooo,” Anthony’s voice cut through her thoughts, “While I love talkin’ about myself, yer not even paying attention.” He snapped his fingers in front of her face. “You okay? No offense, babe, but ya look like shit.”

Charlie grimaced. She knew that — not even the concealer that she slapped on earlier had been enough to hide the bags under her eyes. With as pale as she was, the contrast of the makeup and the black spots was quite jarring. “I haven’t been sleeping very well,” she admitted, burying her face in the crook of her arms. “Things have been… kinda weird with my step—,” she cut herself off. Referring to him by that title out loud still felt strange. “With my mom’s new husband.”

“I thought it wasn’t so bad? Ya haven’t said much about him since your mom sprung all that shit on ya.” He took a long sip from his smoothie, eyeing her discerningly. “Is he being a dick? Do I gotta go over there and beat his ass?”

She was glad that she hadn’t been eating anything when he said that. Charlie would have probably spit all of the food out of her mouth at the thought of Anthony instigating a brawl with Alastor. Aside from the disaster that would be, she wasn’t really sure if that was a battle that her friend would win. Alastor didn’t seem very physically violent, but he also had the air about him that if push came to shove, he wouldn’t lose. “N-No! It’s nothing like that. He’s been great!” 

Anthony arched an eyebrow, “Ya sure?”

“Y-Yeah!” She said quickly, stuffing some of the fries Anthony ordered for the table into her mouth to keep herself from revealing too much. No. She had to take this attraction with her to the grave.  Anthony was too easy to talk to, and she was too much of an open book to be able to trust herself not to tell him that she was hopelessly smitten with her goddamned stepfather. “It’s not like we see each other all that often, anyway,” Charlie lied with a strained smile. Then again, was it a lie? Her smile twisted into a grim frown as she bitterly realized that those words had become the truth. 

Though that was entirely her fault. 

Charlie was the sick one — the one with the depraved feelings, perverting an innocent interaction into something sinful and aberrant. Alastor had shown her a sliver of kindness and, in turn, awakened some awful thing that had been dormant inside of her. She had been starved for affection her entire life; it was only natural that a simple taste would leave her ravenous and aching, only deepening the chasm that she felt within. 

“Well, if he’s so amazing, then why’s it so weird?” Anthony crossed his legs beneath the table. Charlie blew a bubble into a drink with her straw and huffed, “I… uh, well, I, uh,” she really shouldn’t say anything, but the words felt like something carbonated that was only building pressure, about to pop. She always hated lying, and she was terrible at it, to make matters worse. 

She shouldn’t say anything. Stating those feelings out loud would make them real — make them something that she couldn’t easily take back, but Charlie was tired.

And this was Anthony. She didn’t think that he would judge her. Maybe talking about her feelings would allow her to begin to put them behind her.

 “I… might’ve… um, gotten a teeny, tiny, itty bitty little… crush on him?” 

She yelped the moment that her wiry friend’s hands slammed against the table, causing the silverware and all of the food and drinks on it to shake. “Hoooooooly shit! Girl, are ya serious? On your stepdad?!”  Charlie had to grab the edge to keep the entire thing from toppling over. “Hey! Watch it!” She cringed as she could feel the eyes of several other disapproving and curious patrons on the back of her head. “And be quiet! Do you want the entire store to hear you?”

If they did, she’d never be able to show her face in here again. She could only imagine the scandal. Charlie Morningstar — frequent customer and stepdaddy fucker! Yeah, that would go great! 

“I don’t shock easy, but you mighta just succeeded. Gotta say, didn’t take ya for the type to be into older guys with your track record, but…” Anthony rubbed his chin, as though deep in thought, “Know what? I guess it does kinda make sense with all the daddy issues—”

“Oh, fuck you, Angel!” she hissed, kicking him under the table. “It’s not — it’s not because I have daddy issues!”

“Watch it! These tights are Versace!” He sniffled in indignation, pointing a long manicured finger at her, “And, well, it’s not not because you have daddy issues, either, toots!” 

They couldn’t really be having this conversation right now. Why did she even bring this up to him? She rubbed at her temples and sighed, “It’s not like I wanted this to happen.” Charlie pushed her melting ice cream around with a spoon. “This is like, literally the last thing that I want.” 

“Yeah,” Anthony agreed, with a hum, “This is a scenario straight outta a porno. Ya wanna bang your mom’s man! That’s ballsier than anything I ever tried!”

“I-I don’t wanna—” She turned red. It wasn’t like she was even fully a virgin, and yet she was stuttering like one. “—bang him!”

“Not at all?” He smirked. 

Charlie didn’t answer, making her friend burst into laughter. “Okay, now I need details. How’d this little crush start? Daddy dearest put the moves on you or something?” He was joking, but there was a clear edge to his comment, making her wonder if he was taking this a lot more seriously than he was letting on. Charlie understood — the optics of her stepfather potentially coming onto her didn’t look great at all. Even she could acknowledge that, though a sliver of her desperately wanted that to be true. 

“It’s nothing like that,” she hissed, feeling protective of Alastor, “He was just nice to me. That’s all!”

“How nice we talkin’ here?”

“Nice enough that what you’re thinking isn’t an issue,” she reassured her friend, “I promise. This is all just coming from me.” She let the chocolate from her ice cream coat her tongue. She wasn’t lying here — she was the only one extrapolating from Alastor’s behavior, reading into what she wanted to see. He hadn’t done anything wrong.

Right?

The sting from the frozen treat burned her throat, but she welcomed it. 

“Well,” Anthony said, searching her expression before his lips curled into a reassuring smile. He reached over the table, giving her hand a small squeeze as he clicked his tongue against the rough of his mouth, “Wanna know the fastest way to get over a crush?”

“I’m not fucking anyone.”

“Heeeey, get yer mind outta the gutter! I was just gonna say you should go on some dates! Let some chump who ain’t banging yer mom, treat you for a change!” He winked at her, and Charlie released an anxious chuckle. It wasn’t a bad plan. Not really — but the idea of going out with anyone who wasn’t him couldn’t have been more unappealing. It was the equivalent of dunking herself in a tub of icy water. She couldn’t imagine some other boy or girl ever measuring up, making her feel this drawn in and fixated. It was as though a spell had been cast.

All she could see was him, as though he were a black hole, engulfing her bit by bit. 

“—And then ya fuck 'em!”

She laughed at his joke even as she felt some of the tension balled up inside her wind that much tighter. 

Charlie woke up from a fitful sleep to a simple text from Alastor.

"Got called into office to deal with an accounting error. (Someone else's error, of course!) There are leftovers from last night for lunch, and I'll be back to make a late dinner."

The explanation of where he'd be and why, when he'd be back, the tiny bit of his wry humor, and the concern for her well-being as the cherry on top — it was like he'd finessed exactly how to succeed at everything Mom and Dad did wrong when they dropped news on her. Granted, he was just at work for the day, not in another country for weeks, not out way too late drinking with "the boys", so an easier pill to swallow, but even if the news had been more dire, she already trusted implicitly that Alastor would know how to help her swallow it.

Aaand that type of thinking is exactly why we're currently in a hell of our own making, Charlie! she chided herself, shooing away an unwanted heat in her cheeks. She stretched her muscles, feeling tense and sore from curling into a ball in her sleep, and found herself in no particular rush to get out of bed without the promise of Alastor's cheery morning greetings and offerings of breakfast to motivate her. Maybe one of these days, she should cook for him in return, but did she have any hope of waking up before him?

She sighed and rolled onto her back, plagued with thoughts of what Alastor might be like when he woke up first thing in the morning. It was hard to imagine the well put together man in any state other than pristine, but the thought of his wavy hair in disarray, an unguarded relaxedness to his smile, what his sleep-rough voice might sound like…

Her fingers were at the hem of her pajama bottoms before she'd even realized, but that was by design. She'd needed to detach her logical thoughts and her bodily desires more and more lately, otherwise the dissonant guilt was going to tear her to shreds. The thought of dating around, maybe even just hooking up with someone to take the edge off, had floated through her mind ever since Anthony planted that seed, but she never found herself wanting to foster it. All she wanted was to know what Alastor's precise touch would feel like, and all she could do was torment herself with pale imaginings of how it could play out, if it could ever play out.

With the house all to herself, she forwent her usual precautions, kicking her blankets and pants off summarily, leaving the door cracked open because the air conditioning vent in the hallway worked better than the one in her room. When she circled her fingers around her entrance, she wasn't surprised to find herself wet, but she was surprised by how easily she sank into herself, like her entire body was begging for sex. A humiliating way to frame it, but she was determined to section off the rational part of her brain for just a while. Denying her feelings to herself hadn't worked thus far, so perhaps, in the safety of being alone in her abandoned little castle, she could indulge fantasy enough to stave off cravings for the real thing.

Not only was her body wanting, but it was receptive, every nerve alight as her fingers slid deeper. Everything felt better than usual, and she tried not to think about what a wasted opportunity that was. An opportunity for what? She grumbled at herself for letting pesky thoughts in and ran her free hand up under her shirt to recenter herself. Playing with her own nipples usually felt more silly than anything, but in her heightened state of sensitivity, she found that even a light brush against the soft peak of her breast sent a jolt of pleasure down her spine. She bit back a whimper before realizing she didn't really need to stifle her own noises for once, a luxury she hadn't had since Alastor moved in.

"Mmmn," she hummed to herself, trying harder and harder to lose the edges of her mental image just enough to forget where reality started and stopped. Where was she? Ah, right. Alastor's voice first thing in the morning. It could be surprisingly deep when he wasn't putting on his usual cheery display, and she imagined that'd be the case when he woke up. She imagined her name being the first word on his lips, how he'd wrap himself all-encompassingly around her, already hard and wanting more from her. She'd give it to him, anything he asked for, as long as he just promised to stay. Stay, even though they shouldn't be doing this to begin with, but being tangled up beneath the sheets made the outside world's rules feel like an irrelevant intrusion to their isolated world of just him and her. They'd build a cage around themselves that nobody knew about but them. Wouldn't that be exhilarating? Someone who wanted to keep her that badly?

She wondered on repeat what her name would sound like pried from his throat between thrusts, but since she'd never get to hear such a thing, she tested saying his name in response instead. "Ah… Alastor…" It felt unfairly good to say, right, even. She picked up the pace and tilted her head back, eyes squeezed shut. "Alastor… please… please…"

Charlie ignored the tears that slipped down her cheeks. Nothing was going to steal this pleasure away from her, not even her own conscience. Her knees lifted to her chest, putting her in an embarrassingly vulnerable position. She worked herself up with great patience, so unlike her usual hurried, perfunctory sessions. It wasn't just a quick reprieve she wanted; she wanted to break herself of this twisted obsession somehow. Maybe if she indulged herself to the absolute fullest, she'd tire of the notion entirely and finally be free. Time and time again, she stumbled close to the edge, always pulling back at the last second, watching her resolve wear thin and dangerous. By the fifth fake-out, she was sobbing despite herself, crying out Alastor's name with abandon, as if he could save her from this — as if this wasn't self-inflicted.

"Charlie? Are you o—"

Curled into herself, knuckles deep, head thrown back in pleasured agony, naked from the waist down and shirt hiked up over her tits, there was really no way to lie about what was going on here. Maybe that was why Charlie's reaction was so delayed; instead of a more obvious defense, her body had decided playing dead was the next best option. She clamped her mouth shut, slowly pulling her shirt down and working her fingers out as if any sudden movements or sounds would shatter the way time seemed frozen around them. And as much as she didn't want to, she stole a shameful glance at Alastor, who just stood in the doorway with an unreadable expression and seemingly no intention of speaking. Or leaving.

Fuck. She owed him an apology, for starters. "Alastor, I'm, I'm so sorry, this isn't… I thought you were gonna be gone all day, and…" Every explanation that came to mind only seemed to further incriminate her. Alastor just blinked, and, suspended in the uncertainty of how he felt, Charlie assumed the worst. The sobs she'd paused when he walked in picked up where they left off, albeit with a different tone. "Shit, I'm sorry, I can explain, please don't hate me… Just let me…" Get dressed? Fuck, she was such a disgrace. She didn't even have the energy to begin catastrophizing about what he'd tell Lilith. 

In order, the possible reactions Charlie expected were: Alastor leaving without a word, Alastor asking if she was crazy, Alastor slamming the door shut, Alastor falling over dead from shock (he wasn't that old, but underlying genetic health conditions can pounce at any moment). Maybe all four in that order. She never could have guessed that he'd take a step forward with a look that resembled awe, but she was certain it was just the beginning of shock or disgust. "They… they'd already resolved the issue by the time I got there. So I came right back."

Charlie had never heard him sound so uncertain before. Coupled with his lack of anger, she felt pinned in place by the what-ifs swimming in her head, but forced herself to pull the blanket over herself, sit up, and face him. The least she could do was give him an apology while looking him in the eyes.

Dark brown met with eyes as black as the night. Charlie's heart leapt into her throat at the intense gaze he was leveling at her now, such a stark shift from the neutrality he'd carried only moments ago. Two long strides brought him to the edge of her bed, and she knew from day one that Alastor was a tall man, but she'd never felt so eclipsed by him before. She hated the excitement that it sparked in her corrupted little heart.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she began to plead, and when his hand lifted, she braced for him to strike her, or just shake her back to her senses. When she opened her eyes again, she was on her back, his hand on her shoulder, knees framing her trembling legs. She couldn't make sense of it.

His hair hung around his face as he stared down at her. Charlie didn't want to look directly at him again, fearing what she'd find this time, but she hardly had anywhere else to look. She realized his chest was heaving and his lips were slightly parted. Despite the gentleness of the hand on her, she could only see it as a slowly building rage. When he leaned down onto an elbow and brought himself so close she could taste his breath, she waited for words of rebuke.

"Let me see you," he said instead.

Charlie blinked in disbelief. That did not fit in with her array of potential outcomes. Stunned, she repeated meekly, "I'm… sorry?"

To which Alastor pulled the blanket off of her, stripping the humiliated girl of her final thin veneer of decency. She supposed she deserved this, even though it was worse than anything she could have concocted in her anxious mind. Having her greed laid bare for him to see — fitting, but painful. She'd never be able to look him in the eyes again after this. And because she was looking away, she failed to anticipate his hands parting her legs, a contemplative look swirling in those still-darkened eyes.

"You were thinking about me. Saying my name," he stated more than questioned, but it still seemed to demand a response.

"I-I'm sorry…" All Charlie could do was hiccup in embarrassment. The air felt cold on her sticky, wet, sensitive area. She wanted nothing more than to hide herself away and never be seen again. And yet, when she inhaled sharply, she could smell that he was freshly showered and wearing cologne, clearly having anticipated a full workday. He was still in his slacks and a dress shirt, though lacking his jacket and tie. As put together and devastatingly handsome as ever.

And his hands felt huge on her thighs. And they felt like they were creeping higher. If he was relishing this punishment, all she could think was that she deserved worse, because even this was helplessly turning her on. For all the crushing, genuine contrition she felt about being caught, there was still some wretched, unkillable part of her that melted under his touch, that preened beneath his stare. When his thumbs found their way to her core, peeling her open, a cruel smile blossoming on his face, Charlie was so lost in her quarreling torrent of self-flagellation and arousal that she mewled in near-relief; far from the correct reaction, but Alastor didn't miss a beat over it.

"You're a mess," he commented, the smile wide enough to be audible.

"I-I know." Her voice drooped with shame.

Alastor chuckled darkly. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this."

Charlie's averted eyes snapped back onto Alastor in time to watch him sink a finger into her entrance. Her mouth dropped open in what could have become a gasp or a scream, but shock and ecstasy arrested her vocal cords for the time being. Her hips flinched into the touch reflexively, rather than away, and really, that was all the admission of guilt Alastor needed.

“Alastor, what are you doing!?” she choked out. As much as she didn’t want him to stop, she really couldn’t fathom that this was happening outside the confines of her fantasies — so certain she had been that her feelings were a one-sided perversion that he’d have no reason to reciprocate in the slightest. Even as he flexed the digit inside her experimentally, forcing her to bite her tongue in a bid for self-control, she felt this was still some kind of unusual punishment.

“What does it look like I’m doing, sweetheart?” He probed at her entrance with a second finger, slotting his other hand in to tease maliciously at her clit. “I’m giving you what you wanted. Right?”

“I—“ Charlie didn't know how to respond to that. Every answer felt like the wrong one. And speaking without her voice hitching seemed an increasingly impossible task.

“Never imagined I’d walk in on such a display — not that I’m complaining." He was contemplative, curious as he learned his way into her, but his voice dropped slightly as something seemed to occur to him. "Is this why you’ve been avoiding me?”

She nodded, burning even redder and tilting her face away, but he reached up to tilt her back into his line of sight.

“Don’t do that. Don’t hide from me. From now on, you come to me for these things. Didn’t I tell you I’d take care of you? Didn’t you say you were mine?” His hand shifted from tentative exploration to relentless pistoning that had her hips jerking from the force of it. With anguish, Charlie realized she was right about everything. How good his long fingers would feel in her, how he’d know implicitly how to unravel her as fast as possible. He dragged her right back to teeter at the precipice like it was the easiest thing. The girl sobbed nonsense beneath his grasp, but she met his motions in the middle all the same. Her body betrayed what her words could not: she wanted this so badly.

“My darling, is this enough for you? Are my fingers all you want?” To his delight, her big doe eyes were wobbly and wet, wide with bewildered confusion at the question.

“I…” Charlie slowed her rapid panting to a few deeper, slower breaths in order to steady her voice. “I’ll take… whatever you let me have.”

The grin that split his face couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than one of hunger. It finally dawned on Charlie that this wasn’t punishment at all, which thrilled and terrified her in equal parts.

Alastor’s eyes twinkled as he cooed with a swell of pride, “That’s my girl. In that case, I’ll spoil you rotten.”

He plucked his fingers away from her tight, trembling walls and didn’t hesitate to lick himself clean of her fluids, a groan of pleasure rumbling in his chest. Charlie’s hair nearly stood on end at the debauched sound, even as her body mourned the loss of his hands. He pushed her shirt back up, her modest tits easily overshadowed by just one of his hands, but he worshipped her with both, all the same, snug between her legs and leering over her like a specter. His glasses slipped down his nose; Charlie thought to remove them for him, absently placing them on the headboard, blushing at the domesticity of the gesture. She was lucky she didn't drop them between the mattress and the bed frame, as it was hard to focus on anything else when Alastor was teasing her hardening nipples with such enthusiasm.

He lowered his face close to hers. His breath was hot on her. "Would my little doe hate it if I gave her a kiss?" he asked in a hushed voice, tone somewhere between affectionate and taunting, like he was issuing a challenge that he'd just as joyfully watch her overcome or fail at.

Charlie shivered, finding it hard to look him in the eyes but greedily taking in the sight of him all the same. "I-I'd like that."

Her lips were sealed the moment the words had left her mouth, and she whimpered against the voracious barrage. It was slowly sinking in more and more that she hadn't been the only one thinking impure thoughts about their relationship all this time, but it was harder to wrap her head around the fact that he wanted her this much. He licked into her mouth like he was begging for sanctuary, and while she was all too happy to let him in, it brought her pause. How long had they been toeing this line? Only since Lilith left on her recent work trip? Or longer than that? And more importantly, why? He'd married Lilith, for god's sake. What kind of appeal could Charlie possibly hold that Lilith didn't have?

The sound of his belt buckle coming undone grounded her back in the moment. A million thoughts flooded her already-crowded mind, but Alastor continued kissing her with intent, thoroughly putting a cork in that bottle for the time being.

Her hands scrambled at his back, clutching aimlessly here and there at his dress shirt. She wanted to pull herself into him and stay there where it was safe. Safe? An ironic quality to ascribe to a man old enough to be her birth father, as he undid his slacks and endeavored to pull himself out. But it was the truth, or at least her truth. She felt safe with him. That was why she let him trail his mouth over the fragile pulse of her trembling throat, and that was why, when he pushed her knees apart, she accommodated willingly.

A quick glance down the space between them gave her a small flutter of anxiety, though; he was bigger than she'd expected. Not that it was surprising. He seemed to be big in every way. His canines felt shark-like as they sank around her collarbone. His fingers felt like cages around her as he easily lifted her lithe little hips and positioned himself at her dripping entrance. And as he licked blood from the punctures he'd left on her, Charlie felt vaguely that she was in way over her head. But at the very least, Alastor wouldn't let her sink to the bottom. She could trust that much.

"Are you going to be good for me, sweetheart?" he questioned playfully, smoothing a hand over her head. She nodded, shy. "I knew you would. God, but you're a sight for sore eyes right now…"

Charlie couldn't help but be confused by the sentiment. Bare-faced, hair a chaotic mess, sleep shirt hiked messily over uncommentworthy breasts — there was hardly anything to see at all. But Alastor looked at her like she was everything, a surprising responsibility that was intimidating to shoulder. Apologetic, she said in a whirlwind, "I've never done this before."

Alastor blinked. "You're still a virgin, my dear?"

She tried to contain the wash of insufficiency she felt at the question. "M-my ex-girlfriend and I played around with fingers, and my ex-boyfriend made me give him blowjobs," and she couldn't help but roll her eyes at the recollection, "but other than that…"

The man looming over her took in a slow breath, and when he lowered himself on his elbows with a transformative exhale, his eyes were crinkled in glee and his mouth was a dangerous crescent of white teeth. He looked like a tiger crouching in the reeds, sight laser-focused on something it wanted very, very much. His muscles felt taut and anticipatory around her, as if he expected to have to fight, but she was perfectly docile and content to stay where she was, even if her veins thrummed with a distant sense of danger.

"Then you really are all mine," he murmured with unfettered delight. Charlie had just barely processed the sensation of him pressing his tip against her when Alastor abruptly scooped his hips forward and began the arduous process of shaping her to his size. Even with just the smallest centimeter of penetration, the girl shrieked and bowed her spine in a startled convulsion.

"Oh, God…" It was more a plea for leniency than an utterance of enjoyment, but Alastor's smile flexed at it either way.

"There we go, sweetheart. Just a little bit at a time. I'll take it nice and slow for you."

The reassurance wasn't particularly comforting. Her breath seemed stuck in her chest, and as she glanced down again, it occurred to her that he was thicker at the base. It was only going to get harder from here, long before it got easier. She gripped the underside of her pillow to brace herself. At the very least, Alastor was true to his word, feeding her his cock in gentle, shallow surges, and despite the burn of resistance, her cunt seemed to drink him in with the same greed it had taken her fingers earlier. A droplet of sweat slid down the man's temple, a hint at how much self-control he was employing to prevent himself from thrusting carelessly into her temptation.

Charlie tried to focus on breathing, or squeezing her fists, or relaxing her abdomen, but she couldn't seem to coordinate her body to do all three at the same time. It wasn't until Alastor lifted a hand to wipe at her cheek that she realized she was crying again.

"Oh, my darling, it's okay. You're going to feel good soon. I promise you that." And Alastor, in Charlie's experience, never lied. So she nodded with a quiet sniffle. He continued, more like he was thinking out loud than necessarily addressing her, "You're so tight, Charlie… You feel like heaven."

She couldn't exactly take credit for being small and a virgin, so she just nodded again, wondering what she should be doing in the meantime. The friction of a particularly ambitious forward progression made her writhe with a weak moan, lost in a valley between pain and pleasure. "O-oh…"

"Good girl, yes — just like that, darling," Alastor bit out, the fluttering of her adjusting walls already getting to be too much to resist. "This might hurt. Hold onto me as tightly as you need."

Hesitant to catalyze something that would hurt, Charlie paused for an interlude and then wrapped her arms around his shoulders, legs around his hips, which inadvertently sank him a little deeper, tearing belabored sounds from both of them. Alastor pressed a bracing kiss to her forehead, gave her a second to breathe, and that was the final scrap of serenity between them before he trapped her hips between his and the mattress in a final smooth push. His groan of relief harmonized in contrast to Charlie's sharp keen of discomfort, a sound she tried so hard to stifle, but the man wasted no time stirring the deepest part of her once he was agreeably acclimated. The thin sound built into a rhythmic sob as she struggled to intake enough air to speak.

"It's too — much," she managed to cry out, punching out the syllables with each unyielding blow. "A-Alastor, it hu-urts…"

"Shhh, it's okay." He cradled her head with distracted affection, already losing himself to the slippery embrace of her virgin heat. "You're incredible. You're perfect for me. Just…" Another ragged groan rumbled in his throat. "Fuck. You're perfect."

His pace built despite the throbbing sting in her core, and though she wanted to please him more than anything, she felt like she was drowning. "Please, stop… I-I want a break…" she pleaded brokenly against his neck.

"No, no, sweetheart, there's no stopping now. We're getting through this together." Charlie felt an indignant swell at that, feeling that the adversity was hers alone rather than a shared burden. But his words felt good against her chest and tickled her ears. "You just have to trust me."

Alastor subjected her to a series of deep, probing, yet lightweight thrusts, hammering a stuttered whimper out of her. He pulled back, careful not to fully leave the comfort of her body, then slammed into her hard enough to send cold electricity up her body. It racketed around the base of her skull like brain freeze.

Charlie cried, shrill and sweet, and Alastor dutifully licked her tears away as he repeated the brutal motion over and over. By the fifth iteration, she was starting to mold her body up against his, a telltale sign that the promised pleasure was finally bleeding in, her cries crossfading into restrained exhalations that eventually mellowed out into proper moans.

"There you go, that's my girl," he praised wholeheartedly, and the girl beneath him clung harder to him in response. "Is it good?"

"Mmh," she grunted in affirmation, eyes squeezed shut, nails biting at his back through his shirt. Her little noises punctuated every rewarding thrust. "Mm, mmm, ahh…"

It fanned the flames of Alastor's already bottomless interest. He kneaded at her back, her bottom, the soft underside of her tender thighs. He wanted to push every button, hear every sound that he'd been precluded from but dreamt of obsessively. His restraint had long-since frayed into nothingness, a burning need to take replacing it. Renewed thrill danced up and down his vertebrae at the thought of being her first, an honor he hadn't expected he'd get to have, but he reveled luxuriously in it now that he had it. Her inexperienced cunt squeezed around him so tightly, he felt like he was melting from the hips down. What a joy it was to show this lovely young lady the ropes! He laughed a bit, lightheaded and exhilarated, but it came out more like a clipped shove of air.

"Charlie," he murmured, petting her smooth hair adoringly, imbuing every touch with his devotion to her. "Charlie, my love, I'm afraid I can't help myself — I don't think I'm going to last much longer."

Charlie only vaguely understood what he meant by that, too lost in submerging herself in pleasure now that she'd finally found it. "Don't stop," she begged, petulant and afraid of this marking the end of their tryst.

"Sorry, darling, sorry — you feel too good…" He had more to say, maybe a reassurance that he wouldn't leave her hanging once he was done, but his climax was sneaking up on him faster than even he expected. His chest heaved, and his pulse spiked as he fucked into her desperately, uninhibitedly. His cock easily slammed against her virginal cervix, a delicious wall of resistance that he threw himself against over and over with triumph. Charlie thrashed and shrieked at the sensation, even as he pinned her under his weight, and for lack of other outlets to vent her overstimulation, she sank her teeth into the salty skin of Alastor's neck. Hard enough to hurt in sincerity, hard enough to draw blood, which is what sent him careening over the edge.

A mangled sound tore out of him as he spilled deeply into her. A wrenching and devastating sensation. His pulsating cock filling her to the brim brought Charlie to a similarly tumultuous end, her legs straightening tensely against the bed as her hips rose and receded against his like a tide. Their exchange grew sloppy, unmetered, passionate all the same.

Charlie whimpered helplessly as the aftershocks of her orgasm ebbed away. She could feel the overflow of Alastor's cum already seeping out of her. Any panic she could have about what they'd just done was summarily wiped away as Alastor brushed hair from her sweaty face with a smile of absolute satisfaction.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" His voice was low and comfortable, fit to fall asleep in.

"I-I think so." She took mental stock of her body. The sting was still there, but it had mostly been overwritten by an enjoyable exhaustion. "Yeah. Um… I'm sorry for biting you…"

Her fingers danced over the bloody ring she'd left on his neck. The fondness in his smile only doubled, if anything. "I'm not worried about it." Maybe he should be, but Charlie accepted his words at face value. "...You're beautiful, you know."

The compliment landed strangely in Charlie's gut, like an unearned prize. "Thank you, but…" Dare she invoke the elephant in the room? She said it before deciding whether it was a good idea: "I can hardly hold a candle up to Mom."

His lips quirked in a curious slant that she wasn’t quite able to read. "You think?" He sounded amused.

“Of course I do!” She huffed as bitterness coated her mouth. Was he teasing her? It would be callously cruel of him if he were, especially after all of this, but she couldn’t fight the familiar bite of dread that clawed at the back of her throat. “Compared to Mom, I’m just—” she cut herself short, biting down on the tip of her tongue. Just what? Just a frazzled sliver of a girl who lacked the natural confidence and elegant beauty of someone like Lilith. Just nothing. A bark of acidic laughter rose in her throat like backsliding bile. “No one can compare to that.” 

Instead of responding, Alastor stared at her, head tilting with the interest of a feline playfully pawing at the innards of an eviscerated mouse. His gaze was too penetrating, like he was peeling back the layers of her flesh, bit by bit. 

Why isn’t he saying anything? 

Put off and not wanting to spiral into another anxiety attack post-coitus (She couldn’t even imagine anything more humiliating. Thanks for the sex, Alastor. Can you comfort me as I bawl my eyes out and forget how to breathe for the next half hour? Very hot), Charlie averted her eyes and turned her attention back to the reddened bite mark that gradually turned into a bruise against Alastor’s darkened skin. She couldn’t remember ever seeing any marks like that on him during the brief stints that Lilith stayed at home. Then again, her mother was probably far too refined to leave marks on a paramour after a bout of passion. It would be beneath her, and perhaps that was why the sight of the bite caused a rush of dizzying exhilaration to flare within her. Unable to help herself, she reached forward again, letting the tips of her fingers brush over the dull indentations left behind by her teeth. 

He said that she was his after taking her virginity. She wondered if this was enough to claim him as hers as well. 

A small flicker of hope bloomed in her chest. Could he really find her more appealing than Lilith? Even with the mop of blond hair on her head or her thin, sharp-angled body that seemed to lack womanly charm? It was difficult for her to conceptualize such a thing, even with the evidence of their tryst still aching between her thighs. 

It was a fragile wish that he might see something within her that no one else did — that she might be precious to him. 

“You’re right,” he said, causing the rest of whatever anxious rambling that might have spilled from her lips to die on the tip of her tongue. It was like being plunged into a frozen lake as her throat tightened, and he continued, “You’re so much better than her.” 

Charlie stared at Alastor as though he had just spoken gibberish — and to be fair, he might as well have for how little sense his words made. He had to be lying to her. This was nothing more than an attempt at sparing her feelings. Better than Lilith? That was utterly impossible. Laughable, even, to the point that she found her lips twitching at the absolute absurdity. It was already too much to hope that she possessed even close to the same appeal that her mother did, but better? 

“Hm,” Alastor hummed in a baritone reminiscent of a haunting melody as he twirled a lock of her hair between his fingertips. “That dumbfounded look on your pretty face says that you doubt my words.” His teeth kissed his lips, and his head shook slowly in disappointment. “And we can’t have that.” 

He caught her chin between deft fingers, tilting her head, forcing her to meet his gaze. His eyes were heated, like liquid amber beneath the dull lighting, as her breath arrested. She felt like a small thing trapped in the grasp of something wild and wantonly dangerous. Though Charlie supposed that feeling wasn’t too far off from the truth, even if she craved the chaos that Alastor offered. 

His steady gaze made her squirm. It was expectant but tinged with the same patience that had drawn her to him in the first place. “I-I mean, I’m glad you think so… even if it doesn’t make any sense,” Charlie blurted out, incredulous.

“I like to think that I’m a rather clear fellow,” Alastor purred in response, pressing a lock of her hair to his lips as though it were precious gold. 

Then, he moved to kiss her forehead — oh so gently, just like the stepfather he was a debauched parody of.

The gesture seemed genuine, even if Charlie knew that somewhere along the way those feelings had grown perverse for both of them. Or perhaps they always had been? You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this, Alastor had said, as though having her like this had always been his intention from the very first moment that her mother had introduced him to her.

That thought should have frightened her — should have told her that this man was dangerous, but Charlie could only feel her flesh grow taut with whirling giddiness. To be wanted to such an extent… It was something she could have only dreamed about before. 

“—And yet, you still don't seem to understand what I’m saying. Come, now, you should think more highly of yourself!” Alastor continued, grinning in a way that caused his incisors to brush against her skin. He moved from her forehead to her collarbone, pressing a feather-soft kiss there before those same blade-like teeth dug into the pale flesh. Her skin was already reddening when he lifted his mouth to murmur, “Now, how shall I convince you?” 

Charlie could feel the tension within his stiffened muscles, as though she were fragile glass that he both wanted to break and preserve. 

“That’s easy for you to say,” she muttered, “You’re so handsome and accomplished. I’m sure that women are always falling over themselves for you— eek!” Charlie squealed when she felt his lips close around one of her nipples. He smiled around the stiffened bud, his long tongue rolling around it, until her back arched into him, following the heat of his mouth like a marionette being pulled by its strings. 

“That’s enough of that now,” he chirped, though there was something dark under the affable tone that left no room for discussion. “You should know that it breaks my heart to hear you talk that way, Charlie!” 

“But—”

She yelped again when his teeth sank into the soft swell of her breast. “No buts, darling. It’s time to listen now.” 

Listen? The look in his eye pinned her in place, like she really was a doe caught in his precise crosshairs. “Good girl,” Alastor praised, pleased by the compliance. He kissed lower, below her breasts, drawing her trembling flesh into his mouth. It was messy, the way that his tongue dragged along her skin, the wet suction of his lips as he covered her in marks that would be impossible to hide. “It’s always been you , Charlie.”

She blinked, gasping when his hands wrenched her legs apart, spreading them wide as he licked at the spot right below her navel. She was so pliant beneath him, drinking in his attention like an unattended flower. What a greedy little thing his Charlie was; so deprived that she’d swallow even poison if he offered it to her. He wouldn’t ruin her, though. Not like that , at least. Alastor would give Charlie whatever she liked. He’d drown her in affection until she was swollen with it — until she was fit to burst with the same desperation, the same need that he felt.

“From the moment I first saw you, I knew it was you,” he rambled on, looking at the mess he’d made between her legs. Her cunt looked so pretty, swollen and red from how he’d fucked her, glistening with their combined fluids like a ripe fruit just begging to be plucked and savored. There was even a trickle of blood, a byproduct of the delicious virginity that he had ripped apart. He’d marked her irrevocably, staining her from the inside out in a way that could never be undone. He licked his lips, tongue dragging salaciously over his front teeth. “You were so pretty, sitting at that party all alone like you were waiting for someone to steal you away.” 

“That—” Charlie whined when two of his fingers found her opening again, pushing in, teasing at her cunt as her body sucked him in desperately. She was warmed up, nice and open now that she had been well fucked. She needed to be filled again, needed to be stretched and used, and Alastor was all too happy to help with that.

“I never wanted Lillith,” he admitted, unable to resist tugging her clit into his mouth. “This was never about her.” 

“W-What do you—”

“Listen, darling,” he implored again, “Listen .” His order halted her stutters as his fingers curled with a practiced precision. Even when indulging in such delightful sin, he was paying close attention to each shift of her hips and each shameless sound that escaped her lips. “Lilith has nothing that I want.” His fingertips dragged along her inner walls, towards her pubic bone as Charlie twisted and turned against him like the pleasure was just too much for her — which simply wouldn’t do. Luckily, Alastor was all too happy to give her the push that she needed. To hold her to the flame even as it seared them both at the edges. His hands gripped her hips harder, keeping her in place as she tried to squirm beneath him.  “Well. Perhaps she has one thing,” he giggled. “You.” 

“Alastor—”

“You probably don’t remember our first meeting very well. It was a few years ago, after all,” he said, rolling his tongue unhurriedly over her clit. He loved the way she shuddered, the little tremors that wracked through her body from the lightest of touches. “But I do. That meeting… your smile. It’s haunted me ever since.” 

Charlie’s mind raced as she struggled to make sense of what he was saying. It was borderline impossible when those long fingers reached so deeply inside of her, twisting and teasing her cunt until the heated feeling within her reached a piercing crescendo; as though they knew how to play her body like a well-tuned instrument, plucking her strings and strumming out every single note of her pleasure. She choked, hands fisting at the sheets. “You really do know how to make an impression,” Alastor continued conversationally. “Do you know how often I thought of you since that day?” He added a third finger, setting a brutal rhythm that filled her bedroom with lewd, wet noises that made her want to bury her head beneath her blankets and hide. Which was foolish. 

As if he’d ever let her. 

“It was constant, sweetheart,” Alastor revealed before circling her clitoral hood with his tongue. He giggled with a demented sort of glee, eyes hooded and dark in the soft lighting of fairy lights hanging around her bed. His eyes were piercing as they locked with hers, utterly devoted. Utterly obsessed. Charlie whimpered, covering her face with her hands as he sloppily tasted her, face pressing right into her sex even as her slick covered him. She could see it smeared against his cheeks. It dripped down his chin, down his wrist, but he didn’t stop, consuming her like a beast tearing into coveted flesh. It felt like he’d tear chunks out of her if he could, and she’d welcome it, just as she frantically clung to his love, so starved for it. “Every single day,” he shoved his fingers in harder, so deeply that Charlie wondered if she could feel him petting at her cervix with the tips of them. It was like touching a severed electrical wire, frying her insides, and utterly eradicating every thought that was not him. 

Alastor—Alastor—Alastor. 

The pleasure was stunning, blinding, so bright and hot that it sent her careening straight into hellfire. 

This orgasm was more powerful than the last. Charlie wailed, back arching and hips rising off the bed violently. She might have kicked Alastor in the face if not for the grip he had on her thighs, forcing her to open and halting her thrashing as he lapped at her opening ravenously, determined to swallow every last drop. It stung with biting intensity, but he didn’t stop, even as she pushed at his head, eyes blurring with tears. “A-Alastor, w-wait, please—”

“I think I’ve waited more than enough.” He stuck his tongue inside of her sensitive, fluttering canal, and she thought that she might die, but he mercifully drew away, allowing her a momentary reprieve. “All that time, and all I thought of was how I could get to you. You’re quite a difficult girl to get a hold of, you know! Why would I stop or let you go now?” 

There were the ramblings of a madman. Pure insanity that, if true, would recontextualize their entire relationship up until this point. She didn’t want to acknowledge how much of this he had meticulously planned with the same level of premeditation as a murder, as he shamelessly confessed to the clandestine sin that existed between them. It was not fear that her body convulsed with, though, as white hot pleasure assaulted all of her senses. She could feel another orgasm building — painful, but she couldn’t stop the way her hips met each thrust of those long fingers as they replaced his tongue, how her cunt clenched so hard around them, needy and so eager to be filled, and he would do it. He’d gone through all of this trouble, hadn’t he? 

And she’d been empty for so long.

“Sweet girl,” Alastor purred, licking his lips as though to savor her flavor, “I did this all for you.”

She came again, and this time Charlie was sure she screamed. She might have even blacked out as her mind seemed to shatter like cracked ice. It hurt, oh god, it hurt, but it also felt so good that she might die. “Alastor!”

“Ah,” he breathed, petting her inner thighs as he finally sat up, fingers slipping out of her. She mourned the loss of them, hips twitching and shifting in agitation. She whined in frustration, as Alastor’s Cheshire-like grin only widened. It was indulgent and cruel, like her suffering was a sweet treat to be enjoyed, but the glint in his eyes told her that he wouldn’t leave her wanting for long. “ This is what I wanted to see. You truly are a sight to behold, Charlie.” He licked the slick evidence of her pleasure from his lips, his tongue gliding along the kiss-swollen flesh. It was embarrassing to see, so much so that she had to look away as she choked on the brutal pace of her heartbeat.  

“Y-you’re out of your mind. W-what are you even saying?” she asked, even though she knew. Oh, she knew. She attempted to jerk away from him, but Alastor didn’t allow her a moment of reprieve as he crawled on top of her, creeping like a hunter in dense foliage, preparing to pull the trigger.

He grabbed her wrist firmly. “What do you think I’m saying, darling?” 

“It doesn’t… That doesn’t make any sense!” 

“Does it need to?” he asked, dark amusement dancing in his eyes. He wasn’t lying, and perhaps that was the most terrifying fact about all of this. To think that he’d go to such lengths… for her. She couldn’t wrap her head around it. “Come now, dear. You’re a smart girl. The smartest girl that I know. What do I mean?” Alastor's voice took on the tone of a patient and doting parent.

A feeling akin to the shock of cold air assaulted her, settling within the synapses of every nerve. She felt it in her bones. Charlie shuddered. “There’s no way that you married my mother just for that!” 

“Why not?” he questioned, using his knees to part her thighs. His cock was still wet with the evidence of what they had done. Glistening with her arousal and blood — her blood. It was a sickening sight, even if the nausea mixed with an indescribable feeling that made her bedroom spin with dizzying intensity. Something heavy sank to the pit of her belly, like an oil spill. Was she horrified? Yes. Charlie recognized the numbing terror that froze her limbs, but more than that, there was something else she felt. Something stronger than the fear. 

She felt wanted. 

He had done all that for her? 

Alastor smiled. “Do you think that you’re not worth it?”

“It’s…” She had no idea what to say. “That’s crazy, Alastor!”

“I never claimed to be sane, my dear!” His cock stirred against her inner thigh. “I’ve been told that I’m quite off my rocker, haha!” He laughed in that bright and merry way that almost masked the savagery of his smile. She could tell that there would be no escaping this — or him. Her heart fluttered at that thought, the contents of her head feeling like they had been replaced with fluffy cotton. Insane. That was exactly what this was, but she must be just as mad as he was, for all her eagerness to see just how far this fucked up rabbit hole went. 

Alastor pushed her thighs back until her legs came to rest on her shoulders as he spread her open. In this position, she could see everything in mortifying detail — from the way his thick cock rested against her sex, throbbing and just as hard as before.  She squirmed, gasping at the sensation and the way that her hips canted forward despite her best efforts. 

It was so big! How had that monster even managed to fit inside of her? There was no way, and yet she watched, spellbound as the blunt head began to sink inside of her once again. They’d already had sex, and he had done quite a bit to prepare her with all of the fingering and oral, but it was still difficult to take him. The feeling of being split apart resurged as her walls stretched to accommodate him. Still, her body yielded despite the brutality of the intrusion, eager to receive him all the same. It wasn’t painful this time, though. Just somewhat uncomfortable, like stretching a muscle that had been worked vigorously. She whined softly, unable to help the way that she clenched around the length of him — so needy, desperate for his touch. Charlie watched, transfixed as his cock disappeared inside of her with feverish fascination. “I can’t believe you fit,” she murmured, dazed. 

Alastor hummed in response, clearly pleased. “Of course, darling.” He gave his hips a steady roll that dragged deep within her, sending waves of the sweetest bliss sparking up her spine. It was like a sugar rush, setting her nerves alight and every bit as sweet as candy coating her tongue. “And you take me so well. Just look at you,” he said, nodding down towards where they were connected.

He thrust slowly, allowing her to readjust to him as he slid in and out of her, the length of him growing wetter each time he bottomed out. She felt her chest burn, but she couldn’t look away from the lewd sight. “Alastor!” she cried his name, her voice broken like delicate little shards of glass.  It was too much. It was not nearly enough. She needed this. 

Charlie had been searching for something her entire life. Something to give her meaning, perhaps? It was difficult to put into words, almost impossible to describe the needy chasm that had formed in the very pits of her soul. Each disappointment made the chasm grow that much wider, until she had lost sight of where it ended, as if the nothingness had subsumed her personhood. It was a loneliness that was not easily chased away, but each time Alastor’s hips pounded into her, she felt a little less fragile, a little less like the hungry, yearning thing that she was for so long. 

It was like Alastor knew. Like he’d seen that side of her at the party, honed in on it like a shark catching the heady scent of blood. “What a good girl you are,” he said, knowing just what to say. Yes. She was a good girl. All this time, she just wanted someone to notice. He grabbed her chin, fingers digging into her cheeks as he made her look at him, directly into his eyes. “What lovely faces you make when I open you up,” he cooed fondly. She whimpered in response, cheeks burning at being so thoroughly observed. “Is it good?” He went harder, enough so that she wondered if he would somehow pass the barrier of her cervix and right into her womb. 

“Yes!” she cried out as her toes curled, hips rising to meet him each and every time. She felt as though she were dancing madly, spinning and twirling before the pointed barrel of a gun. “Please,” she begged, belly growing tight and hot. She could feel her sex throbbing around him, squeezing each time he pushed inside. “Please, Alastor!” 

“Please, what?” 

“D-don’t—” 

Don’t what? She hadn’t the slightest clue. Don’t stop? Don’t promise to stay with her and then walk away? Her tongue felt heavy and swollen in her mouth, eyes growing moist. “D-don’t leave me.”

His eyes softened as he sucked in a breath, like the air had been snatched from his lungs. “Oh, Charlie, my sweet, darling girl.” He pressed his mouth to her forehead, reminiscent of the way that her father had kissed her when she was still young and prone to fits of tears. “I’ll never leave you. I can assure you of that,” he promised, then he kissed the tip of her nose. “You’re mine. My little doe. And I never let go of my things. I’m a selfish man, you see.” He punctuated his statement with a sharp thrust that made her jerk against him. He grabbed a fistful of her ass, lifting her pelvis, and the change of angle made the world go bright and hazy. It was too much. Too good, too awful, and too wonderful. Just as Alastor was. 

She clung tighter to him, nails digging into his shoulders, but it didn’t seem to bother Alastor; his cock hit her sweet spot each time he sank into her, hips grinding unrelentingly once he was buried, and it was all she could do to keep from bursting out of herself. Charlie came with a shout, her body going rigid before thrashing against him. Her muscles spasmed, heart pounding in a way that made her wonder if he had yanked her soul out of her body. Maybe he had, and she was all too happy to give in. 

“There you are,” he said, peppering her face with kisses. So comforting. So sweet, even if those words were at odds with the brutal pace that he fucked into her. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’m here. I’ll always be here.” That was definitely the right thing to say, because his words were enough to send her reeling again. She heard him laugh, an excited and airy sound. “So responsive,” he murmured appreciatively. “You need so much, don’t you?”

“I — don’t know — please, don’t stop!” she rasped, and her plea only seemed to urge him into losing whatever control he might have had left. He fucked her like a beast, hips slamming into her in a way that left her unable to catch her breath. He turned her chin, capturing her mouth in a kiss that sought to claim. His tongue slid along the seam of her lips, prodding for an opening that she willingly offered to him. Alastor alternated between sucking on the tip of her tongue and sinking his canines into her lips with a reckless sort of urgency — like he’d eat her right up, if only to possess her fully. 

Charlie liked that. She liked that a lot. 

A groan was ripped from him as he came, and like last time, it was hot and overwhelming. There was so much of it, Charlie could only latch onto him, legs crossed around his hips as she let him fill her with every last drop he had.

After that, a fog seemed to settle over the two of them, hiding them away from the world, but leaving them without a clear path to freedom as well. It was easy to push away all thoughts of consequences in the moment of the crime, but once Charlie had caught her breath, anxieties started to creep in like a leaky dam she'd neglected to seal off. Alastor was either unconcerned or too lost in the afterglow, as he lay on his side and pulled Charlie to his chest with a sigh of contentment.

Charlie had wanted exactly this, so badly, for so long, but she couldn't help the warble of her voice as she whispered, "What's gonna happen now?" It made her feel like a child, fussing about the thunder outside, vying for petty consolation. But she needed to hear him say things would be alright.

Alastor hummed into the crown of her head with a looseness that suggested he wasn't taking her fear seriously. "I thought we'd rest a while, and then I'll clean you off in the shower."

She fought against her body's default reaction to that, struggling to hold her ground. "No, I mean after all of this. Like, wh-what if Mom finds out…? And… you said you'd stay with me, but we'd always have to keep each other a secret, wouldn't we? Is that even possible…? Is that what's best for both of us?" She hated herself for voicing these worries at all because she didn't want the answer to be anything other than, You and I, always, Charlie. We'll find a way, but not even her most concentrated optimism could convince her that this hope was anything more than pure delusion.

To her irritation as well as her relief, Alastor chuckled like she'd said something quite cute. "Always thinking, this one. Turn those thoughts off, Charlie. You're mine, body and spirit, now, so leave everything to me. I'll handle the rest."

His response didn't answer any of her questions — not in any kind of meaningful way, anyway. But she let herself sink into it like the softest of blankets, lulled by his scent and the strength of his arms around her, satisfied by his infallible conviction if nothing else. Maybe no one needed to know. Maybe they could slip away to live somewhere else, just the two of them. Somewhere smaller, a home built for people who always want to be close to each other, rather than this sterile labyrinth that seemed to hold Charlie at arm's length from the very foundation up.

Alastor held her close, so close, like he wanted to sew them together. It was Charlie's worst nightmare and her deepest desire. She nuzzled into him and surrendered herself to whatever future he'd carve out for them.