Archive of Our Own ^beta

You wished you’d been drinking. It’d have dampened the embarrassment of the situation. You’d never gone into those kinds of interactions with Alastor … raw. Alcohol had always been the lubricant that let you play without any guards up. 

It would be cruel and unfair to call it naïveté that you followed Alastor to his radio tower. It’d be accurate though to call you an idiot for not having noticed the shift in your friendship since the couch incident. Or realized how obvious you were being about your own concerns.

A movie night seemed cute when Charlie suggested it, but soon you and Alastor found yourself in common awkward situation. Charlie leaned into Vaggie’s side, lips bruising the curve of her ear. Husk’s hands wandered over to Angel’s thighs, thrown over his lap intimately. Niffty…Well Niffty couldn’t sit still long enough for an entire movie so she came and went with bursts of energy. 

When people paired up, even if already decidedly in pairs, it left you and Alastor in that uncomfortable position of being unlikely fifth and sixth wheels. 

So he recommended leaving, and you happily followed his lead. 

Alastor sat in his chair, small and wooden and swiveling side to side to his amusement, and you leaned against the desk of his studio. You’d never actually entered the tower before. No one had that you knew of. Taking in as much detail as you could you noticed equipment seemed more modern than you’d realized. Perhaps the 1920s wasn’t that long ago after all. 

“You turn all of this on and your voice carries across the ring?” You asked, gesturing casually with your open palm to the large metal boxes with dials and knobs and glass bulb lights. 

“It amplifies my signal, yes. Not an inch of the pride ring can hide from my broadcast.” His everpresent smile seemed a bit more smug as he said it. “Untethered to Vox’s power grid, there's nothing between me and my adoring listeners!”

You could only nod. Adoring wasn’t the word most would use, but you thought it was funny he saw it that way. 

With the room so silent, the air so still, you could hear a sigh and his clothes rustle as he leaned onto the desk with his elbows. Looking up to you from the side, his smile tugged to the left. 

“Is there a reason you’ve been avoiding my touch.”

You choked on your own saliva, eliciting a howl of laughter from Alastor. “Oh, now that’s a telling reaction! You know, normally you are very comfortable with me. I dare say you’ve rested your head on my shoulder at least twice. You’ve set your feet on my lap many times during morning readings. You never jump like the others when I come up behind you, brushing against your back. Until recently.” Alastor and his chair moved a little closer to your side, your eyes facing away and out the window. You knew it was important to hear what he was saying, but your mind was reeling trying to summon an excuse for your change. 

“Sooo, why now, when I touch you,” his elbow slid out to push into your thigh, your knees knocking together in a jerk reaction, “do you seem so skittish?”

Alastor could hear your heart pounding in your chest. The rush of blood to your neck and cheeks could be seen even in the red and hazy light of hell. 

Why?

You opened your mouth to lie, his hand coming to grip the side of the table between your thighs, “I’ll know if you’re being truthful, doll.”

Now with a very dry tongue and a small bit of sweat across your brow, you let your head hang low.

The truth then. 

“Last time,” You didn’t see Alastor’s eyes widen in excitement as you began to speak. Surely you would say something deeply uncomfortable for you and that was always a little fun for him. “I really liked kissing. It wasn’t just playing around for me, so, I thought it’d be,” this was going to sound presumptuous, “misleading to get into that situation again.”

Large red and black ears turned inward and down as his back straightened at the confession.

“I’d never kissed like that before. I always thought kissing led to touching which led to sex. An unavoidable series of events. So I avoid kissing. Well, avoided it. I didn’t think I’d get so into it.” Before then, you’d only ever mimed making out and being dramatically horny with Alastor. Maybe a mouth on your neck, or your hands in his hair, but never anything more. But it happened so naturally, the alcohol letting you get more caught in the nice sensations than in the lack of desire to do much more. If he wanted to mock the others again, in the safety of your shared disinterest, you couldn’t be sure you’d keep from reaching out for more. Once it started, it was good. 

So it was best to not start, atleast not with him. It felt like breaking an unspoken agreement between you both. A silent ‘don’t take this seriously’ between breaths. “I probably shouldn’t joke like that anymore, since for you it’s just messing around and making fun of others.”

Alastor was a little taken aback. He liked kissing very much, and getting his unsuspecting friend worked up was entertaining. And you’d seemed to be enjoying his company when you were shaking beneath him. Was that so wrong? His head cocked to the side. “Was that your first kiss then?”

“First like that. Like, with–,” you grimaced, “tongues.” His chortle cut you a little, “It felt good! All of it. But, so does listening to music and, and,” you searched the ceiling for help, “eating cake.” You frowned as soon as you had said it. Cake? But it was hard to say it without being crude. All your needs were met. Of all the avenues of feeling good, why exert the effort into anything different. 

Alastor hummed, “Shocking to hear you’d never had more than a peck.”

“Well, that stuff always leads to more.”

He tutted, “That’s a little naive of you to say. And sometimes more can be nice. If the mood strikes. If the right partner is near. With intention and a little effort…” His fingers flattened against their place on the desk, long nails coming to barely make contact with your inner thigh. You didn’t notice, to his slight annoyance, “Why do you think you solely decide how far my …” a devious look crossed his face, “playing goes? When I want to stop?”

Talks of kissing and touching always led to the assumed inevitability of sex for people, you thought. Was Alastor thinly speaking about it too? 

How far….it stuck between your ears like a stray hair in your mouth. You weren’t experienced enough to know the distance between A and B, just that kissing was where it began and full penetration was where it ended. Right? Was he….offering a short trip between the two, you wondered. 

Your silence weighed his ears down further. “Though, if the idea of me touching you like I did, or more, is something you detest, I can respect that.” You groaned, did you have to close the door on everything? Was there no grey space you could live in now and then? You hadn’t had time to think about this before the conversation was already starting around you. 

“I’m not a fan of sweets but on certain occasions I can enjoy a piece of cake. I know not everyone feels the same. I only went as far as I did because I thought we were of like minds in that aspect.” He added and you could tell by the tone he was also finishing the topic on his part. Alastor thought the safety net of your mutual disinterest in sex as a need provided could allow him to drop his walls a bit and relax more than usual. Knowing neither of you were going into the interaction expecting it to lead to sex let him enjoy things like heavy petting without concern. In truth he’d avoided comfortable touches like kissing quite a long time ago by then for the same reasons you had. His ears struggled to right themselves again under the weight of the idea he’d misunderstood. 

But he wasn’t one to show his sincere disappointment. The hand between your parted legs left and he sat back in his chair with a creak. Without meeting your desperate and confused stare, he began adjusting his bowtie and straightening his jacket. Alastor leaned back with a cross of his legs and tossed his microphone from the left hand to the right. The look in your eyes was akin to a turning sea. It was visible to him that you were struggling with articulating what you wanted. And that was almost as fun as your little quivers when he pressed you down onto his lap before. 

He wasn’t one to break another’s boundaries unjustly, but he reveled in watching someone come undone from his actions. Until you were clear in what you wanted and didn’t want, he was going to enjoy making you panic over it. 

“I like cake.” It sounded stupider outloud than it did in your head. You felt stupider when his characteristic Ha! followed. 

“Is this conversation easier for you if we discuss this in terms of food, then?”

You nodded eagerly. For the love of Lucifer, yes, please. 

A wicked grin spread from cheek to cheek as Alastor twirled his staff, “Do you have an appetite, dear?”

With another whine your head fell back now from its place hanging between your inward turned shoulders, “Not– usually, no. But we were already there, and you….” your hands came to hide your face, why did you say food?? “Made me…have a little sweet tooth. If someone puts a little piece of cake in my hands, ya know…why not, I guess. Just a couple bites even.” You were actually talking about cake at that point, but a flicker of the singular lamp on the table caught your eye and reminded you the conversation was not about desserts.

“Would you like me to test your mood? I can stop when you’re full.” Alastor bit back his own noise, the statement doing something to him he hadn’t anticipated. 

Your knees pulled up to your chest as you curled into a ball atop his desk, “But why? We just…start doing stuff? And go from there?” 

Hadn’t you fled the common area to avoid similar things?

Or had you left to just not be on display like before?

Alastor’s red eyes looked around the room, your form standing out in the otherwise dank setting. You needed a why? That was fair. He could manage that. Your reactions inspired a very gentle cruelty in him that he wanted to indulge. He could put in the effort of manufacturing a situation that let him do so. A reason to make you gasp like a fish out of water by putting you in situations that very much took you out of your element. 

“Would you like to help me with something then? I have a stalker of sorts who’d be dismayed to hear something illicit.” From your sitting fetal position you heard him stand, a small sound of a metallic click following. “I could just huff and puff into my microphone, but it’d be more effective to make him think I’m spending some quality time with a paramore.”

Tentatively, you dropped your legs. “You want to broadcast our sounds?”

“Just to him. Don’t worry.” His charm was rolling off of his tall frame, dark eyes and yellow teeth not dampening it an ounce. “What do you say? I won’t go any further than you see fit.” He saw your eyes flit around in consideration, “You’re just helping out a friend bully a creep.”

Well, when he put it like that. As soon as you let yourself meet his gaze, he turned on a switch without breaking eye contact with you and the broadcast equipment lit up with a soft green glow. 

Your body relaxed. No pressure, just letting yourself get carried away again for a bit for the sake of helping Alastor in his usual job as tormentor. That seemed normal to you. That seemed understandable. 

Humming, Alastor closed the distance between you and handed his staff over, “Hold this between your legs, will you dear?” It was cold, you could feel it through the fabric of your pants as your thighs held it in place. He waved his fingers to show they were free before setting his palms down on either side of you on the desk. “May I?” His face inched closer to yours, coming to stop with his nose a few inches from yours. He saw your complexion darken again, a rush of blood to your face. “Just a kiss between friends. A little swipe of naughty fingers through the icing.”

You’d never be able to see a cake in a normal light again. 

When his lips reached yours your eyes fluttered shut, you knew it was polite to close them. It was just as he had said; a peck. A little kiss, chaste and gentle. A second, a little firmer. A third, lips pressing into yours strong enough you had to reciprocate with a nudging of your lips into his to keep from falling back. Your shoulders relaxed. The pacing was good for you. 

Each parting made the tiniest sound. 

“A lick.” You heard his voice float from the radio on the table to your right, just beside the closed door. You noticed the lock had been turned. The click you’d heard earlier. But you couldn’t dwell on that for long,  immediately following the ring of his voice you felt his mouth open as he parted and returned with a soft tongue swiping across the seam of your lips. His head turned to let him get closer, and you followed suit in the other direction. 

Already your mind was floating aimlessly in your skull as his tongue pressed in and licked at your own shy muscle before retreating again. You braved a peek just to see him looking back at you, heavy and hooded eyes seemingly waiting for yours. His smirk could be felt against your skin for the briefest moment before his tongue was pushing against yours. 

You liked kissing. You’d be happy to do this for hours if your lips could maintain feeling long enough. 

One of his hands found your waist and slid behind your back. The action reminded you that you had arms and hands of your own. This part was easy, you’d played it before. Nails scratched down his scalp through his undercut like you’d done before. Like you’d seen others do in movies and open spaces.  Alastor’s deep moan in response shook your throat and made you whine. 

More sounds. That was the goal. With knitted brows you disengaged slightly and bit his bottom lip. You gave it a tug as you pulled away, only daring to meet his stare once you’d let go. There it was, the current of good feelings that swept you up once you actually got in the water. Quickly it took you out at the ankles and soon you found yourself floating with the rapidly moving events to whatever end they dumped you out at. First it was your mind going soft but now as you found the resolve to look directly into his eyes your entire self was atop the stream. 

You didn’t recognize the look he gave then. A flash of black, a spin of his pupils nearly missed by you. Had the room gotten darker? 

“What’s that face?” You asked quietly, the space between your lips so small. 

“Hunger.” Was the response, his hand jerking you closer to him. Your ass was now slightly off the edge. 

How dare you be so brave as to bite the overlord. How very dare you be so quick a learner. 

He watched your throat as you gulped at the reply. You’d been a hiding little ball-of-sinner just a moment ago but now you seemed so comfortable in his arms. Was that from your friendship or had you already grown accustomed to this kind of kissing, he wondered. 

His free hand gripped your face and turned it to the left, his breath soon blanketing your right neck and shoulder. Warm and wet, his tongue slid up from collarbone to jaw. The air quickly cooled the saliva left behind and made you shudder.

That was better, Alastor thought. Your little shakes pleased him. They excited him in the way he wanted now. 

Renewed kisses, his mouth hot and open leaving a trail back down your neck. When his nose brushed against the shell of your ear you remembered Vaggie’s shy smile when Charlie kissed her there. You knew how she felt now, able to decipher that soft expression it gave her. It tickled but a little bit of electricity sparked down from your belly button to your center.

Any ideas of softness were banished when his body made contact with yours. For a moment, the microphone staff slid between your legs before his right hand caught it and pulled it free. In it’s place his own hips slotted between your knees and pressed into your core. You drew in a quick breath as you felt his erection settle against you. 

He rolled his hips and huffed a breathy laugh at your body jumping from the friction. This felt like fucking, you thought. Surely. 

Another move into you, the pressure of his cock even through so many layers was taking away your breath. The blood pounding in your ears was partly nerves for every unknown second coming but largely from the rush of his scent. You’d turned your head forward again and looked down to see where you were connected now. Unlike the kisses, he wasn’t pulling away. His hair tickled your cheek as he began to nip and suck at the skin just above your collarbone. He smelled like peat moss and sea salt. And… and… you took a deep breath in through your nose; a faint scent of magnolia.

Odd, there were no magnolia trees in hell.

“Smelling me? That’s … new.” His grin widened against your body, your little sniff paired with the heat roiling up from your chest making him snicker. Your body reacted so honestly and with so little shame. 

He made you choke on your retort by sliding your ass further off the desk, your tailbone taking the brunt of your weight. His left hand supported you as he held you tighter against him.

“I think you’re being too quiet. He’s not hearing you well…,” Alastor pressed his lips into your ear as he said it. From head to center Alastor was monopolizing your senses. The staff was momentarily set down beside you, your eyes following it.

You noticed as it clinked on the table that none of the needles seemed to turn or move on the various gadgets supposedly broadcasting your interaction. But you did hear a faint noise from the radio. 

“Ah,” you hadn’t meant to say it out loud, as it was just a sound of clarity hitting you. He wasn’t broadcasting anything to anyone. It was looping through his personal radio.

Your head whipped back to him, your nose hitting his as he leaned down. His left hand was on the button of your jeans.

“A taste?” A question that was nearly more breath than words as Alastor said it.

You looked from him to his hand and back up.

“For your stalker?” You asked.

He grinned and you were sure he knew. With a rise of his brows he seemed to answer positively. 

Every point of contact was a new place you found yourself unraveling. Another?

You nodded, biting your lip as he popped the button open and wedged his hand between your panties and your skin.

Before you could focus on the fact you hadn’t expected him to go straight to skin on skin you were shimmying your hips and leaning back on a palm to give better access. 

Hot fingers slid roughly against your folds before one pressed forward and swiped up. For the briefest moment he dipped into you. Your body jerked forward at the intrusion.

The exploratory finger returned and pressed in. Concerns of balance flew away as your hands shot to his shoulders and gripped. You needed some nonverbal way to express how you felt. There was already so much humming in your veins that couldn’t be communicated any other way. You expected the obvious, an in and out motion. But instead he crooked his finger and pressed against something that gave a little to the pressure. Your breath hitched, it wasn’t fast or hard but the repeated action had an exponential reaction. The pleasure was building upon itself. 

And then he stopped.

Alastor was watching you pant and stare nearly unblinkingly at his arm and despite the growing fog of his arousal he stopped.

When the repeated stroking of your spongy g-spot ended the growing pleasure faded away. You wanted it back. 

Despite your dry lips you stretched your spine and kissed him, immediately licking at his lips for permission to enter. Kissing started it, kissing could revive it.

Tongues pressed together, slipping over each other as your kisses became sloppy. Kissing wasn’t sexual in nature, nor could you call the relatively gross sounding concept inherently romantic. Yet, with your nails digging into his coat and hips grinding down onto his hand, the feeling of his tongue behind your teeth was making you clench around his finger for more.

He gave as your pussy was begging, the petting deep within you starting again. With a gasp your kiss broke, your forehead coming to rest on his cheek as you honed in on the feeling of Alastor moving between your legs.

With a shrug of his shoulders he began slinking off his coat. Hurriedly you helped, not knowing what that meant but trusting it would lead to more of the same. You pulled the coat down both shoulders and only after one arm was free did it dawn on you both he’d have to remove his hand from your pants to fully take off the coat.

Alastor sighed through his nose at the sensation of his erection straining against his pants. Your upset sounds at the loss of his hand didn’t help the twitching. Reluctantly, he completely removed himself from your body.

He dropped the coat back on the chair and returned to your open arms, up and waiting for him. 

You both moved together, mouths reconnected as he crashed back into you. His hand was rushed, panties folding and catching at first on his nails before he managed to get past the barrier and return to your heat. 

Alastor’s mouth opened to swallow your first moan. His eyes downcast and focused on your lips.

“Don’t waste your pretty voice.” He whispered, bringing the microphone back to rest against your cheek as a second finger pushed into you. 

You felt full, but it didn’t hurt. The stretch at your entrance was uncomfortable but only sharpened the pleasure. 

His mouth returned to your neck when you let your head fall back. Eyes closed you could feel the rest of your body melt away. You existed only where his body met yours.

The microphone against your face was cool to the touch and grounded you a little back to your surroundings. 

“You,” you choked out, “you said he was your stalker. Your noises—,” you tore one of your hands from his shoulders and reached down between you both. “He’d want those.”  Your hand slid down the impression of his cock and held softly onto the round flesh at the base. “Husk did this to Angel once —- it seems so low but…” Alastor’s face was hidden by his bangs but when you gently squeezed and rubbed at his balls and the base of his cock his shoulders trembled. “Does it feel good?” When he lifted his head to kiss you again you moved the microphone to his mouth, “Tell him.”

Your boldness affected you both but in different ways. You avoided direct eye contact and Alastor hissed against a moan. He had been hoping to see you as overwhelmed and meek as before, but this turn of attitude was making equally strong waves through his resolve. How far could he take it? How far would your comfort allow it?

When your fingers slowly crept up his length his hiss filtered through static before an airy moan popped over the speaker of the radio.

His fingers quickened their sweet assault against your g-spot as your own hand began what was becoming a mock jerking off.

Every second seemed to loosen Alastor’s snarky facade. His smile was wavering as he cut into his bottom lip with the force of his sharpened teeth pressing into them. Groans and sighs littered the space between you both as neither of you could worry any longer about hiding how good your hands felt on each other.

Alastor tested the waters of his next step, fingers pulling out and spreading the slick from your dripping entrance. From hole to clit his hand moved with ease.

“Now, a bite?” His head pushed the microphone you gripped onto for dear life with one hand out of his way. “Just….” He took a moment to slow his breathing, your hand stilling to help, “a little more. I promise to not… I won’t be a glutton.”

You didn’t know what a bite meant, and he watched your wide eyes search his face for understanding.

“Just a nibble.” His chest heaved as he waited. 

The weight on the first word comforted you. That precious understanding of what was in jest was translating into what was too far. 

You nodded, the slight fear of the unknown in your eyes endearing you to him. Most fear he gave was something short lived, as was its bearer. But watching you trust him to guide you through that dark new place despite being scared of the uncharted territory stirred something in his chest. 

He could just eat you up. If you’d let him. 

“Take off all of this, and turn around.”

He pulled away, gesturing at your pants and panties. When you hesitated he grinned, the lamp going dark with a snap of his glistening fingers. Just the soft green glow of the assumedly unnecessary equipment and the red light of Pentagram City lit you now. 

You stood and began to lower your pants, “Niffty isn’t lurking somewhere is she?”

Alastor only laughed, the dim yellow backlight of the radio wavering with the frequency.

Naked from the waist down, you felt your arousal quickly waning. This was more than anyone outside of a doctor’s office had seen of you. But the extinguished lamplight helped.

“Oh! Yeah,” you’d forgotten the second half of his request. Turning around you stood stock still as you listened to his pants rustle behind you. Soon the heat of his body was against yours again. You tried to measure his size by the feel of it pressed into your ass and lower back. The height difference was making it difficult but you knew he was more than you’d seen in the few videos Angel shared of his work.

“Bend over and put your hands on the table.”

Just a nibble. was your internal mantra as you did as you were told.

“Cross your legs at the knee.”

That wasn’t … that was new. It was all new but that was truly unexpected. He stepped back, the skin cooling from the sudden loss.

You could hear the wet sounds of something happening behind you before feeling the heat floating off his body again despite him not quite touching you. But he was close, and it had your heart stuttering in your chest.

A bite. 

His cock slid between your thighs, swollen head catching on your clitoral head as he bottomed out. His balls were firm against the back of your legs as he stilled.  His breath shuddered above you. 

The staff had been forgotten, leaning against the desk to your side. 

It finally dawned on you that you were the cake in this meal, and you were fine with it as he began to thrust. Every pass was constant slippery contact with your clit, his head passing over twice for an added jolt each time.

This was a bite, you had to wonder how it’d feel if you let him devour you. The idea was becoming more and more agreeable with every slap of his body into yours. 

His own leaking precum mixed with what you assumed to be spit and made him glide with ease. There was that mounting feeling again, the build up of pressure. The table wasn’t cutting it anymore, flat palms didn’t let you expend the wild bouts of energy bouncing beneath the skin.

You reached tentatively for the staff and pulled it in front of you, perpendicular to your embarrassing position. Both hands around the long black handle, you tightened.

Alastor seemed determined to run every centimeter of his length between your thighs, pulling his cock out entirely before popping it back in.

His grunts were still soft, nothing bestial about it despite how much like animals you felt you acted. 

When your arms gave up and you let your cheek rest against the table, the new angle changed Alastor’s position.

A yelp, not of pain but excited shock, burst out of your open mouth as his head caught on your entrance before slipping back out.

You hadn’t wanted to go further than whatever this was, but every time his thick head threatened to fully penetrate you wished it’d just force its way in. 

Closing your mouth to keep from drooling onto his precious desk, you found your sounds didn’t stop. His grunts and groans accented with your own high pitched noises quickly filled the once silent room.

Tighter and tighter your core twisted. You wanted to ask him to go faster, and as if he was already in your mind a hard thrust knocked your head into a piece of equipment. The obscene sound of his balls smacking into the backs of your thighs grew in intensity as his pace changed. Alastor’s rutting was shortened now, a staccato as he kept his shaft buried against your lower lips. He only moved enough to keep his head entering and exiting the other side.

The hands on your hips had gone largely unnoticed until then, but the pain of his nails now digging into you opened your mind to the other sensations.

The ache in your thighs, the pins and needles in your feet, the dull ache in your head where you hit the metal. 

The stinging of raw skin being hit again and again with every return of his hips.

You didn’t jump when Alastor’s head came to rest atop of yours, his ragged breaths huffed into your cheeks and his typically pin straight hair curling with sweat as it stuck to your face.

The rhythm slowed, and you felt his cock twitching against you before you noticed the warmth spreading with each strong spurt. Strategy or luck, you fleetingly considered, Alastor came mostly into your folds than on the desk. 

It wasn’t luck though. He fought the instinct to cum deep, as in this case it’d just dirty his work station. And it’d be wasteful, as he felt sure he’d been successful in arousing your hunger.

You let your hips go slack, him slipping out from your thighs, before his firm hands pulled you up again.

“Full?” His tone was laced with mockery as his lips mouthed it into your ear.

When his hips began to move again and spread his seed like lube you could only keen for more.

“Needy.” He whispered as he focused his movements to bully your clit.

“That’s-,” you ground out, “How are you so good at this?” The question came out rushed and lacking distinction between the words. Deja Vu. 

He tutted, “I’m also a skilled pianist, but I don’t often find the desire to play. Should I speak of this in terms of musical instruments now or can we call an ace an ace?”

A wanton moan tumbled out of you. “S’not the expression. Spades.”

“What’s that now?” He dealt a particularly harsh thrust and slowed to a stop.

Shaking your head no, you tried to squeeze your thighs tighter.

When he didn’t move, you shook your hips a little. 

It was desperate, and Alastor loved it.

“Let’s call an ace an ace, fine, please —,” it ached, somewhere deep in your guts there was a frustrating desire for something. 

“Say it plainly.”

“I want more. I want you to keep going. Keep moving.”

“See, was that so hard?” He practically sang it.

Alastor waited for you to wet your lips to reply before beginning again, knocking the breath out of your lungs. If he remembered correctly, a steady pace always did the trick. With his own annoying fog of arousal lifted it was easy to focus on you. When he hit an angle that made you spasm and twist your hands around his microphone staff, he held you still in place and fucked your thighs with even speed.

You found your breaths shortening with each escalation of tension, each notch bringing you closer and closer to something you were uncomfortably in need of. You’d do or say nearly anything in that moment to reach that peak but you’d dissect that vulnerability later. 

A restrained scream let him know you were almost there, to not let up.

And then you tensed, body shaking from toes to shoulders, your legs twisted and he felt the squeeze as your own base instincts made you rock back onto his cock.

The wave hit, but as you kept your slow grinding you found aftershocks spiking through your body. From that same aching place in you there now we're hills of overwhelming pleasure spreading out until it bounced off your fingertips and echoed across your nerves. 

Only when you felt your muscles whining over the (just moments ago) deafening orgasm did you stop and let your body once again fall slack onto the table. Your lower half slid down until your knees found the floor and your head rested against the edge of the desk.

The room was silent beyond your pants, his soft chuckle, and the low static of an empty station playing on the radio.

After several moments to collect yourselves, Alastor broke the quiet, “What did you call it? A sweet tooth?”

You turned to sit on your ass and look up at him. He leaned down and offered both his hands to help you up.

Your legs were wobbly, so you clung to his forearm. “Yeah.”

“I’ll have to remember that.” You watched as he leaned over and turned off the broadcasting equipment, casting the room in relative darkness. When he offered you your pants and panties, kindly retrieving them from the floor for you, you chuckled softly.

“Still pretending your machines were doing anything?” Your panties stuck to your skin, making you grimace. The entire thing was pleasurable, that was a fact you couldn’t argue. But now that you were clear from the siren call of touch, you felt entirely disconnected from the experience. The mental image of being bent over the table with your pants at your ankles was mortifying and the fact you would have agreed to anything he asked if it meant he kept fucking you in whatever way that could have be called… cake was better, maybe. Easier. Less messy even if you ate it with your hands. 

Though if he asked, and if the friendly and playful kisses got carried away again… You noticed Alastor was staring at you in the dark, ears straight into the air as faint red light bounced off of them. 

“Who's pretending? Assuming he was home, Vox heard the whole thing from his stupid little AM/FM radio by his bed.” The glow of his eyes brightened.

You dropped your pants. “Vox?” Alastor hummed in reply. “The stalker was Vox? Of the Vees?” you slumped into his chair, hands sliding down your cheeks and pulling your skin with it so the pink of your bottom eyelids peaked out, “I thought you were joking.”

“Joking? I never joke, you should have figured that out by now.” He patted your head and picked up his staff, “Though…it was funny, wasn’t it?”

The embarrassment and shock quickly faded as your body gave up on the more difficult feelings, already too tired to carry them, and your only reply with a slightly unhinged laugh. 

“I knew I could make you laugh.”