RuriKO

The telltale scent of debauchery and sin clung to the air as the two of you were strolling back to the hotel; your considerably more challenged state of inebriation being supported by the arm he had politely extended to you.

Even hanging off his arm, you stumbled here and there.

"My dear!" he laughed as he smiled down at you, "a newborn faun could walk better than you are right now."

You shot him a glare, though there was no vitriol behind it. "It's no fair. Why is it that you look the perfect picture of composure while I look like an idiot? We're both drunk, aren't we?"

"Indeed we are," Alastor nodded, humming. "However, the difference lies in experience. I've had plenty more decades than you in Hell to etch how to walk in a straight line into the very marrow of this form's bones."

"Was that your eloquent way of saying I have a "skill issue"?" you asked while staring in disbelief at him.

"Oh dear, you know I'm not in the know with the lingo of your generation. Though, if the shoe fits…"

Playfully rolling your eyes, you both continued walking in a couple stretches of comfortable silence before you piped up, the quiet giving you time to reminisce on the events of the night.

"Al, I still can't believe you intimidated the bartender like that! Then to blame your shadowy tendril thing's 'autonomy?' God, poor guy probably was close to peeing himself in fear!"

"Well, he was flirting with you. Very blatantly, may I add." Alastor said as he flashed a sharp grin at some gawking passersby who clearly weren't aware the Radio Demon had his heart stolen.

"You almost had us kicked out!"

"I do not like sharing what's mine, and mine alone."

"Clearly," you girlishly giggled, replaying the memory fondly within your head. His jealousy always sent a pang of roiling heat straight into your core. You open your mouth to tease him about it, but his riposte was faster.

"But what of you? Threatening that brazen woman away from the seat next to me?"

"Oh, she had it coming," you huffed, tightening your grip on his arm more possessively, "I should've sliced those bony manicured fingers clean off after she thought it was a good idea to touch you on the shoulder. As if I wasn't sitting right there."

He chuckled, the sound honeyed with amusement at your antics; it was a sound you were certain you'd never tire of. You were finding each and every action of his more arousing than the last—after all, he had control over your pleasure the entirety of the outing, the remote to the vibrator inside of you tucked away within his coat pocket. A reminder swept through you in a wave that soaked your panties even more.

You wanted to kiss the cheekiness off of his ever-present smile as you nearly doubled over with a gasp while he only tilted his head at your breathlessness in mock innocence, the sinners walking past looking mildly concerned.

"Something the matter, dear?"

Then, you hissed back at him with a response that would surprise the both of you.

"Keep it up and I'll make you a daddy."

Just as the words left your lips and he raised his brows at you, the hotel's towering building came into view. As you both approached the doors, the world suddenly whirled into darkness for a moment before it materialized before you again.

Alastor had teleported the both of you into his room. The fireplace crackled as if it too was anticipating his next move, and the scent of cedarwood and something so unmistakably him flooded your nostrils.

Before you could open your mouth, he had you pinned against the wall, a knee wedged between the apex of your thighs, and two red-tipped claws tilted your chin up towards his face.

"Care to repeat yourself now that only you, me, and these four walls will be privy to this conversation and all to come after?"

There was a dilation to his pupils as a dawning glimmer of hunger was more clearly visible within them; if you looked close enough, you could've sworn you saw the way a predator lied in wait before pouncing upon its hapless prey.

"I said," you stressed the words just enough for one of his ears to twitch, "keep it up and I'll make you a da—"

Your sentence was left hanging in the air as his lips descended upon yours hotly. Alastor ravished you with a newfound vigor, to which you reciprocated in kind. There was a substantial ache underneath your dress that you've been wishing he'd satisfy all night—and it appeared you were finally getting what you wanted.

The kiss was sloppy, and as it continued, you both became increasingly disheveled; hair becoming mussed and clothes slipping off your bodies while hands sought blissful ruination.

An abrupt collision of a palm to your now bare ass drove a yelp out of you.

"That was for calling me that insufferably inane word," he growled into your mouth, breath laced with the aroma of liquor, before breaking the kiss to lean back and stare into your half-lidded eyes.

Your gaze flickered down to the tent straining against the pristine fabric of his trousers; stifling a laugh, the corner of your lips instead quirked up into a knowing smirk.

"Someone else would beg to differ, I'd sa—AH—!"

That bastard. He hadn't forgotten about the little vibrator still nestled within your walls.

"Apologies dearest, you were saying?" His Cheshire smirk looked mismatched as it was accompanied with an inculpable tilt of his head.

You narrowed his eyes at him, remaining silent so as to not give him the satisfaction of repeating himself in that wicked, wicked way of his. When he quickly realized you weren't foolish enough to walk right back into his trap, he spoke again, tone demanding and smug.

"On the bed. Now."

You complied, but not without purposefully swaying your hips as seductively as you could in your still drunken condition, taking your sweet time to reach his bed.

Seemingly running out of patience for your teasing, shadows slithered quickly around you before depositing you unceremoniously atop the plush duvet. They then positioned you none too gently by pushing you face-first, ass-up in a provocative feast for a certain demon's eyes.

"You little minx," Alastor lowly purred just loud enough for you to hear, the words rumbling forth from his chest in that tone that always guaranteed a night to remember, "you want to be the mother of my children?"

Was it just you, or did the heat you felt initially upon arrival—no doubt due to your intoxication—become even hotter?

You watched as he stalked towards you, the simple motion sending arousal pooling into the seat of your panties. You also watched as his gaze dropped to your rear as you shook it invitingly side-to-side, unable to resist the temptation.

"Mhm," you whined. Your thighs squeezed together as he loomed over you, a claw ghosting over the flesh of your knee, to your thigh, then to your presented ass, pointedly ignoring where you desired him most. "Need you, Al…"

He breathed in sharply through his nose, digits crooking into the band of your panties before a ripping sound could be heard, much to your horror.

"Hey! Those were my favorite pair!" you cried out in dismay, but your husband was far too preoccupied appreciating the way your pussy now looked without any pesky cloth to conceal it from him and his hunger.

A rippling shudder ran down your spine, and not because of the cool air meeting your exposed skin. His voice was now a few octaves lower.

"Demon physiology be damned," Alastor began in an assured whisper loud enough for your ears to perk up at, "darling trust me when I say you will be thoroughly bred by the end of tonight."

Immediately, you forgot about the tattered remains of your panties.

"And by the looks of it… That's what this pretty little cunt wants, isn't it?" he crooned as his tongue darted out to wet his lips as if he was preparing for a particularly tantalizing meal.

With frantic confirmation, you nodded, incapable of suppressing the embarrassingly needy way his name fell off your lips next. A couple claw-tips swiped against you, collecting your arousal in an obscene display that webbed between them. Alastor stared admiringly at it while you felt your cheeks warm, and it wasn't because of the alcohol in your system.

"My my, you're absolutely posolutely drooling down here! Makes one wonder just how long you've been yearning for this, hm? For your stomach to swell full with my progeny."

His fingers splayed out possessively against the skin of your stomach as he leaned over you, his chest flush with your back and his still-covered erection poking at the slick lips of your pussy. You responded by pushing back against him with a whimper tinged with frustration.

"How utterly needy," he shook his head as if in disapproval, "you act like such a common whore once you have a few drinks in you. It's rather unbecoming of a lady… or rather, a mother-to-be."

You had half a mind to shut him up by twisting the both of you around and finally freeing his cock from its confines yourself, especially after that remark, but it appeared as if he had read your thoughts—you started to hear the relieving noises of a zipper and the rustling of clothing. A sob of gratitude nearly escaped you.

Then, with a lewd pop, the vibrator is swiftly removed from you, only to be replaced with his cockhead nudging between your folds.

"Well, what're you waiting for? This 'common whore' is—oh, fuck!" you screamed, interrupted yet again as he plunged deep within your pussy and pulled you impossibly closer. His clawed hand fisted into your hair before wrenching you back with him, the act causing you to gasp out of surprise while instinctively clenching around his length. Then, the pace became unremitting.

Alastor half-groaned at your tightness, half-chuckled at the words dying on your lips in favor of moans he loved drawing out of you. "Cat got your tongue yet again, cher?"

"Sh-Shut up!" you moaned, hands curling into the duvet as he continued to plow relentlessly into you, throat bared to the heavens above.

His other hand retained a bruising grip on your hip while he repetitively sunk back in and out of your heat at a punishing pace, thrusts clumsier than usual. Your breathing alongside his became heavier as sweat began to condense both of your bodies; the bed's headboard rhythmically slammed into the wall over and over as the stench of sex unfurled and permeated the room.

He sounded animalistic the more he chased his release, but he was still ever the gentleman—even when drunk—and relinquished his grip over your hair to furiously rub sloppy circles into your clit. The added pleasure had you dissolving into a mess of whines and moans of your lover's name.

"Let's see if this little womb is capable of bearing my children," Alastor said with a feral snarl that you thought should not have sent as much of a spark of arousal flaring throughout your veins as it did.

You felt every part the helpless prey to this beast that was becoming more monster than man behind you.

And you adored it. Adored the way his hands couldn't decide where to settle, so they roamed all over the vast expanse of your body, fondling your peaked nipples and flesh. Adored the way alcoholic sex appeared to help him discard more of his social inhibitions. Adored the way your name sounded off of lips that couldn't stop placing hot, open-mouthed kisses all over your back.

You adored it so much so that you felt as if you were increasingly becoming more and more intoxicated, except this time from carnal beginnings that you never wanted to come down from.

Unfortunately, you felt your climax approaching closer, and you felt that he did too as his hips began to stutter in that erratic way they typically do when he was about to paint your insides.

With a roar of static and a few final thrusts, he stilled as his cock pulsed while loads of his desire for you flooded your gummy walls. Just as he cummed, you had also met your end; a cry emanating from you as your own orgasm coursed through your veins. Your cunt was now throbbing as it milked the man above you.

You both remained in place, the static dying down while you both caught your breath for a couple of moments.

Suddenly, he pulled out, causing you to whine in protest at the newfound vacancy between your thighs. In doing so, cum started to dribble out of you—to which he tutted in disapproval before scooping it back into you. You were then carefully turned onto your back.

Your eyes widened at the wild look in Alastor's gaze, his pupils now turned radio dials blown wide until only thinned rings of carmine were visible. Amongst the inebriation, there seemed to be vestiges of intimacy present—intimacy that silently spoke of dark devotion and primal, base needs.

Sweat coated his brow and rolled down the sides of his face. His antlers had also grown in size, and the static that he carried everywhere he went sounded louder as he leveled you with wide eyes of his own. You wondered if he could see how devoted you were to him as well, if he could see the way you also wanted to discover if demonic law could be defied, broken, rewritten.

"Still with me, darling?" Alastor breathed out, to which you nodded with lustful enthusiasm. His lids dropped to half-mast, and a frenzied laugh contended with the static as his cock stirred back to full hardness.

But Alastor was the only one feeling funny, and you were utterly oblivious about it.

Well, until you wrapped your legs around his slender waist, squeezing, hips uniting so you could switch your positions.

Then that’s when you felt his desire, warm and thick and heavy.

Your skirt was knee-length, but the fabric had collected over your thighs, and he knew that you could feel it, his erection throbbing as your clothed heat came into contact with his erection.

Your breath hitched in your throat, and your heart kickstarted in your chest, visibly shocked.

Alastor was your friend, that’s all you and him had ever been; and you were 19 years old, just barely deemed old enough to go out and about in the streets of New Orleans by your parents.

Neither of you went out without each other.

So, to have you pinned underneath him, wrists held hostage, crotches stuck together, it was entirely overwhelming.

The worst part was that you refused to utter a single syllable.

Alastor watched you stare up at him, wide-eyed and skin all hot and flustered, looking like the embodiment of innocence.

Guilt began to bubble up in his throat.

And so did an apology, his lips shakily parting, sweat trickling down his forehead.

But then the grip your thighs had on his waist tightened even more, and your hips moved and tentatively rolled upwards, a feeble moan slipping from his lips instead of an ‘I’m sorry.’

“Pl-Please?” You mustered sweetly, wrists anxiously flexing in his grip.

Alastor could only lean down, forehead meeting yours, eyes screwing shut, his hold on your wrists slackening.

He didn’t know what to do.

Hell, he didn’t even know that he was capable of feeling such things.

Alastor thought he was immune to desires of the flesh after a friend of his, one he no longer spoke to, showed him a stag film.

He had also gifted him French postcards from his personal collection — erotic photographs of women, nude as the day they were born.

Alastor had grimaced at the film and tossed the photos to the trash, which he had shredded into tiny, jagged pieces.

So, for a little rough-and-tumble to elicit such a volatile response from his body, it was astonishing and nothing short of unexpected. Alastor was ill-prepared to grant you your request, even though he desired you similarly.

He had a general idea about what to do, but what he knew, it wouldn’t be enough to satisfy you. He would most likely leave you disappointed.

Still, he found himself nodding his head anyway, his cock throbbing longingly in his trousers.

“Okay,” Alastor merely said.

His hands relinquished your wrists, nervously sliding down your body, fixing to remove your panties, but you were quick to tell him no.

“No, k-keep them there,” You breathed out, looking a bit embarrassed. “Keep holding me like that.”

His eyes fluttered open, brows knitting together, confusion swirling in his gut.

“You don’t want me to take them off?” Alastor tentatively asked as he lifted his head up to look at you. “What am I to do, then?”

Your tongue swept across your lips, wetting them.

He stared down at you, waiting, anticipating your response.

“I don’t know. I don’t know how to explain it,” You swallowed. “Just… pretend as if our clothes were off, all right?”

Alastor was no idiot.

You wanted him to rut into you like some animal, but the way you refused to be specific was what had him complying with a newfound confidence.

His hands returned to your wrists, gripping.

And his hips pressed down against yours with an experimental roll, massaging his erection on your clothed cunt, bumping your bundle of nerves.

“Like that?” Alastor breathed out.

You didn’t say anything, nor did you nod.

However, you did part your legs and toss your head back against the grass, eyes shut, chest heaving, telling him everything he needed to know.

And so he proceeded to rut into you like a wild animal, rubbing your crotches together, cockhead continuously making contact with your clit.

Your clothes softly rustled with each and every roll of Alastor’s slender hips, soft mewls and whimpers poured haphazardly from your lips, and his trousers grew damp as your wetness penetrated the thin cotton fabric of your panties.

Neither of you were paying attention to your surroundings.

You were too busy drowning in the new sensation, and though Alastor had his eyes open, they were trained on you and only you.

Something about keeping you hostage underneath him, entirely at his will and power, was riveting.

Alastor felt a hot pressure steadily building up in his gut, a tight coil that was ready to snap, his cock stiffening in his trousers and his thrusts growing sloppy and uncoordinated.

You were close, too, your back arching up into him in a sinuous curve, shaky, high-pitched breaths tumbling in quick succession.

The two of you were so busy chasing your peaks that you forgot you were outside, in broad daylight.

His mother could stumble into the two of you rutting against each other like the inexperienced virgins you were, but at that moment, it was just you and Alastor.

The only thing that mattered was how your clothed cunt pulsated and throbbed against his cock.

How you writhed and twitched and squirmed.

How you let out the filthiest cry known to mankind with every wave of pleasure that rippled through your body as you came undone.

Because that’s what coaxed him over the edge.

“Oh, fuck,” Alastor’s forehead met yours once more, eyes screwing shut, his trousers growing damp and sticky with his pleasure.

It was delicious.

He wanted to feel it again, but as you wriggled your wrists out of his hands to caress his face, nimble fingers touching his sweaty cheekbone, a familiar voice called out to the two of you.

It was Alastor’s mother.

“Lunch is ready if you want to come n’ eat!”

He instantly rolled off of you, back colliding with the grass, legs clamping shut to conceal the dark patch on the crotch area of his trousers.

Of course, you pulled your skirt down and scrambled to sit up using your elbows, eyes wide open, heart hammering in your chest.

“C-Coming, maman!” Alastor hollered out.

Thankfully, his mother didn’t bother coming out to retrieve the two of you.

But unlike you, Alastor couldn’t easily conceal his dignity. He had to head inside with his trousers drenched and soiled in sin.

You looked at him, an apologetic look befalling your features. Before you could utter a syllable, however, Alastor stood up.

He was facing you, slightly hunched, unsteady.

“I’m going to sneak into my room,” You blinked up at him, confused. “I can’t walk in like this! She’ll… she’ll — well, I don’t know what she’ll do, admittedly, but I have no intention of finding out!”

He shot a quick glance over his shoulder, towards his house, panicked and flustered.

“Are you asking me to distract her?” You asked.

He vigorously nodded his head, strewn curls bouncing all over the place, glasses sliding down the bridge of his sharp, upturned nose.

“Yes. Please. You owe it to me. It was your idea.”

As soon as you huffed out a ‘Fine,’ Alastor darted off with trembling knees and both hands in front of his trousers, tucked in between his legs, making a beeline for his window.

His back was turned to you, of course, but he knew you were fighting the urge to giggle.

Alastor decided he would avenge himself — in due time, of course.

It wasn’t fair.