Chapter Text
Rain pelted down the streets of New Orleans. While you were severely unprepared for the weather, you didn’t have a care in the world. Alcohol churned in your belly, and after hours of dancing in a packed speakeasy, you were warm enough to stave off the chill from the cool, humid air that greeted you as you stepped into the outside world.
Still, you weren’t allowed to move past the veranda of the building, a hand falling on your shoulder.
“Hold on a second, will you?” Alastor halted you in your tracks with a scolding tone. “Or are you in a rush to get home?”
You staggered back, a bit unbalanced, but Alastor held onto you until he was certain that you wouldn’t trip over your own feet.
“No, I’m not… but I’m dying to take these heels off,” You slurred, craning your neck as he pulled his hand away. “Hey, what’cha doing there, Al?”
You locked your fingers behind you, mindlessly twisting and turning your body, watching him shrug off his suit jacket.
“No wonder the barkeep cut you off,” Alastor merely snorted, an amused grin stretching across his face as you gasped out his name, scandalized.
You didn’t take his words to heart, however, an infectious bout of giggles tumbling from your lips.
And they continued as the two of you made your way down the empty streets of the French Quarter, your arm wound around Alastor’s waist, his jacket held over your heads in an attempt to offer you some refuge from the rain. But with every stride you took towards home, water splashing beneath your feet, the rain grew stronger, heavier.
It spurred you into a run, leaving your bare ankles and the bottom of his slacks drenched in rain water.
“What are you doing, woman?” Alastor huffed.
You didn’t care, though. You couldn’t, not even as you let go of his waist and darted forwards, raindrops kissing your skin.
“Taking advantage of my free will!” You hollored.
Nothing could spoil the night for you, not even the fact that another date had flaked on you.
Your sixth date, to be precise, but what did that matter? By the third one, you had started to lower your expectations in an attempt to avoid the frustration, the humiliation of yet another man standing you up; and though you weren’t immune to a bit of disappointment, at least your best friend decided to keep you company this time around.
Your hair, your clothes were soaked, skin glistening against the dim yellow streetlights paving your neighborhood.
“Come on, slowpoke! We’re so close, my house is right there, don’t you see it?”
Alastor was taller, faster, and had no heels to slow him down. He draped his jacket over his shoulder, quickly catching up to you.
Long, slender fingers curled around your wrist, gently tugging, forcing you to a halt. You were only a few houses away from yours, whirling around, staring up at him with a confused expression and a heaving chest. He released your hand, but as his eyes darted past you, to your house, your lips parted in understanding. Right. Your parents.
“I think it’s best I say my goodbyes here.”
Alastor was your best friend, and though your mom absolutely adored him, your dad was… another story. He was awfully narrow-minded. You pulled your arm back, only to clasp his hand, threading your fingers in the space between his. Rich brown pools stared down at you, something undecipherable swirling in them.
“Oh, did I not tell you? Nobody’s home,” You started, slowly making your way backwards. “My parents left this morning to visit my auntie, and they won’t be coming back till tomorrow, sooo…?”
You shot him your best puppy eyes, lower lip jutting out in a pout. He took a tentative step forward, but even then he didn’t seem all that convinced, at least not in your eyes.
“I don’t know, I should really get going. It’s late and my house is a ways away,” Alastor reminded you, however, the corners of his lips twitched upwards. “And the last thing I want is to worry my mother.”
You continued moving back, and he continued moving forward, albeit at a snail’s pace. Still, your house was getting closer and closer and closer, and he was awfully aware of that.
“Just stay, at least for a bit?” You told him, voice soft and sweet like honey. “Mimzy gave me a bottle of hooch. We can drink it while you get all nice and warm, see if the rain settles down, too?”
You had him, an excited squeal seeping past your lips as a sharp brow arched up at the mention of moonshine. Though, if you were more perceptive, you would have figured out that you had convinced him to stay over the moment he made no effort to pull away from your grip. Despite that, Alastor wouldn’t have it any other way.
Your inability to properly gauge his behavior assured him that his secrets would be kept safe.
The same ones that kept you unsullied from all the undeserving men who only wished to desecrate your skin, even if that’s what you desired.
You had been his best friend for years. You told him most things, refusing to withhold details.
Sure, he was a man, but that didn’t stop you from sharing your wants, your desires with him — what sex was like, succinctly. You were brimming with unbridled curiosity, and as you hastily unlocked the door to your home with your hand still clasped in his, that little detail about you loomed over his head almost menacingly.
The consequences of eliminating potential love interests came with becoming one.
He neither expected nor anticipated to gain your affections, however, he realized three victims ago that he would have to satiate that urge.
“In the rare case that my parents decide to come back tonight,” You started, gesturing to the staircase. “Should we head up to my room?”
And though it wasn’t something Alastor was ready to do, not yet, he nodded his head and allowed you to guide him upstairs anyway.
The wood creaked beneath his shoes, and his heart pounded in his ears, growing flustered, anxious.
He wasn’t one to partake in carnal pleasures, desires of the flesh, whatever. In fact, he was a virgin, and so were you. But that didn’t comfort Alastor. No, not one bit. Because, unlike him, you weren’t inexperienced. You confessed to him once that you had ventured to touch yourself down there. You knew what to do. He didn’t.
Oh, well. Hopefully the moonshine would drown out the apprehension, the trepidation clawing at him.
“Sorry for the mess,” You said as you ushered him into your room, turning on the lights, shutting the door behind you. “I have a tendency of going through half my things when I get ready.”
You darted past him, picking up your clothes, carelessly shoving them into your wardrobe.
“Don’t worry, I can’t see all that well anyway,” Alastor lied with a hum, reaching up and removing his glasses, which was littered with water spots. “Do you have a handkerchief, per chance?”
You made your way towards your vanity, opening the drawers, searching for one.
“Uhhh… I do, but where is it?” You mumbled. “You know what? Give me a second! I’ll be right back with some towels. Both of us are sopping wet and we can’t stay like this for long.”
The door clicked shut behind you, leaving Alastor standing in the center of your room, alone.
He flicked his wrist, stray water droplets cascading to the ground, before putting his glasses on once more. You were back in less than a minute, but that minute had stretched on for an eternity. He was left to think about how he’d get dry. A towel could only do so much. He had to get out of his clothes, lest he risked catching a nasty bug.
“I don’t mean to be ungrateful, but a towel won’t be sufficient to get me dry,” Alastor pointed out, casting his eyes down as he unfolded the towel.
You, on the other hand, didn’t waste any time. His eyes widened, and his heart rate picked up, the sound of clothes rustling wafting into his ears.
“What are you doing?” Alastor stammered out, a faint, red tinge sprawling across his cheeks. “You’re just going to undress in front of me?”
He whirled around on his heel, but even that didn’t help, a flustered curse seeping past his lips as he caught sight of your body through the vanity mirror. Such sinuous curves you were blessed with, shame sprawling up his neck, and something else he had always refused to acknowledge shooting down his core, in between his legs.
Your hair was plastered to your head, and your makeup was nowhere near as presentable as it once was, but his slacks tightened anyhow.
You had every right to strip down to your panties and your brassiere, after all, it was your room he was in. But oh, did he believe he was just as undeserving as all the men he had put in the ground for you, casting his gaze to the side. It’s not like he was the sort to ogle, anyway. His mother had raised him to be respectful. A gentleman.
“Oh, come now, we used to skinny dip as kids all the time!” You reminded him. “Actually, you should undress, too. If you wind up catching a cold, your mother will never let me live it down.”
His head shot up, lithe fingers touching the back of his vest, making the fine hairs on his nape rise.
He couldn’t help what came out of his mouth next.
“There’s no need to be subtle. You invited me into your home and offered me hooch,” Alastor blurted out, feeling your fingers still against his back. “If you want to get into my pants, just say so.”
Regret immediately filled him, especially as the air around you grew thick with tension.
“I… I didn’t mean to… I misread the situation, I’m so sorry, Al, really,” You hastily apologized, embarrassed, his words sobering up. “Look, let me just put on a robe and I’ll escort you out —”
The towel, including his jacket, fell to the floor.
A gentle hand grabbed your bicep, halting you in your steps for the third time that night.
You immediately stilled, tossing a look over your shoulder, eyes flitting up. Rich brown pools stared down at you, brows knitted together, lips pressed in a fine line. For someone who was so adept at maintaining a cool disposition, it was strange not seeing that smile he religiously wore gone from his features, exacerbating your embarrassment.
“Where in my statement did I say I wanted you to escort me out?” Alastor simply asked you.
Your mouth fell open, eyes palpitating, confused.
“I… what? I don’t think I understand.”
Your pulse quickened, he could feel it.
“You didn’t misread anything,” Alastor huffed, his hand traveling up your shoulder.
Your chest rose and your breath hitched in your throat, his palm encasing your cheek as he approached you. Now that you were the one that was flustered, he could steel himself, his facial features relaxing. Still, you weren’t that oblivious, softly calling out his name even as he splayed his fingers and dragged his thumb across your lips.
“What’s it like?”
He stepped forward, invading your personal space.
Realization dawned on you.
“You’ve… never had sex before? Why, I thought you have. The gals are always flocking to you…”
He rolled his eyes with a snort.
But he didn’t take offense to your statement.
“So? That doesn’t mean I’ve… cavorted about.”
The tension in the air had slightly dissipated by then, but you didn’t know what to say. Alastor was tall, good-looking, charismatic, he was everything a gal like you could only dream of having, despite that being a recent development. You hadn’t always seen him that way, not until you noticed he was the only man in your life who didn’t stand you up.
“Wow, I’m… shocked. I mean, goodness, are you not curious to know what it’s like?”
“I must admit, it’s not something I think about.”
“What? Say, I’m sorry for being so crude, but have you ever even pleasured yourself?”
“Perhaps I’m being an impudent ass, though I don’t think anybody would touch themselves if they didn’t constantly entertain the thought of doing so.”
“Hey, I don’t let it consume my brain, if that’s what you’re insinuating. I just… want to know what it’s like, that’s all. The curiosity is gnawing at me.”
“Oh, I can tell, seeing how you chose to seduce me after six failed dates.”
“I beg your finest pardon?”
“You’re pardoned. Now, serve me some hooch and I’ll gladly satiate your curiosity, mon ange.”
The bastard, but you readily complied, finding yourself splayed out on your bed alongside him in no time. Drunken giggles and snorts filled the room, and if the rain wasn’t pelting down the wooden shingles of your home, you probably would have woken up your neighbors. No thanks to the bottle of moonshine lying half-empty on your nightstand, of course.
Skin. There was so much skin, both of your eyes, your fingers, exploring uncharted territory.
You were still in your panties and a brassiere.
And Alastor, well, he was in his briefs, his glasses folded neatly next to the bottle of shine.
You were the one doing most of the exploring, however, your hand slowly descending the smooth plane of his chest. The corners of your lips curled upwards to form a grin, watching the muscles in his abdomen pull forward with a sharp breath, amused. Despite the liquid courage churning in his gut, he was still new to this, overwhelmed and sensitive.
That’s how Alastor eventually found himself on his back, your legs on either side of his waist, clothed cunt slack against his erection.
If it was up to him, he would be the one on top, the position making him feel vulnerable.
Submitting wasn’t something he quite liked. He killed for a reason, it made him feel powerful, but he supposed he had no other choice.
Even if you had little to no experience with a man, he wasn’t your only friend. Mimzy was quite a blabbermouth, telling you everything and anything, including her late-night rendezvous with randoms. She was so unnecessarily descriptive, painting vivid images in your head, so you had a general idea of what and what not to do.
Alastor quickly figured that out, your hips grinding against his slowly and deliciously, all while your hands slid up the sides of his neck.
Long, slender fingers tentatively clutched at the flesh of your waist, thrumming with uncertainty.
“Do you think there’s… somethin’ wrong with me, Al?” You slurred out a question as you leaned down, pressing your breasts to his chest. “I mean, six men… all of them stood me up… goodness.”
He reached up, tucking your hair behind your ears.
“They’re all fools,” Alastor told you, hips canting forward, especially as your slick seeped through his briefs. “And, besides, I’m sure there are more… agreeable options out there.”
You giggled before leaning down, lips carefully capturing his, eliciting a grunt from him.
His cock throbbed against your cunt, but the way your hips suddenly ground down on him as the sky rumbled with thunder was what had his tip oozing.
You reached down with one hand, fingers skittering below the waistband of his briefs, his mouth vibrating with a pathetic noise. The feeling of you grazing the head of his cock made him hot, heavy, and incredibly dizzy. And with the bootleg liquor flowing through his veins, it only made everything worse, his hands falling down to clutch your waist again.
Except this time around, his grip was firm, etching crescent moons in your skin.
“Goodness, Al,” You murmured. “You’re big.”
You didn’t mind, though. You couldn’t.
“Christ, woman, there’s no need to be crude.”
Something about having such a calm and composed man writhing underneath you was riveting.
You gave him one last peck before nudging his head to the side with your nose, lips gliding across the sharp curve of his jaw, all while your fingers curled around his length. He wished you wouldn’t have ended the kiss so abruptly, nor dealt such a delicious onslaught of pleasure, his hips canting up with another pathetic noise.
You collected the precum generously oozing from his cockhead, smearing the thick, sticky substance down his length, using it as lubricant.
“Sorry, I’m just thinking out loud.”
You slightly squeezed and ran your palm up and down his length in a slow, corkscrew motion.
“About what, exactly?”
The mattress softly creaked as you shimmied down his hips, forcing him to relinquish you.
“Well, if I can fit that in my mouth.”
He scrambled to a sit with the help of his elbows, the back of his head knocking against your bed frame.
“Hold on a second, what?”
You pulled his cock out of his briefs, leaning in, a mischievous grin tugging at your lips.
Alastor’s eyes were wide, chest heaving, his caramel skin flushed with a tinge of red. He looked utterly scandalized, a hint of perturbation hanging on his brow, but there were subtle minute traces of curiosity in his expression. You couldn’t blame him. It was the late 1920s, and oral sex was still widely considered taboo. Debauched behavior.
“Don’t worry, I’ve heard it feels… nice,” You giggled, tongue darting past your lips, flicking the tip.
His fingers curled into the sheets, jaw tightening.
“C'est... dégoûtant, mais de la manière la plus délicieuse,” Alastor hissed, teeth gritted. “Ça n'a au…cun… sens. Merde.”
You clenched your thighs at his words, delighted.
“I didn’t understand a lick of what you said,” You crooned. “But I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.”
To be graced with the sweet sound of his mother tongue, it was rare, so it definitely spurred you on. You wrapped your lips around his cockhead, hollowing your cheeks and sucking, making a mental note to thank Mimzy when you saw her next. You watched his face twist and contort in the most delicious of ways through your lashes.
Because of her, you had such a tall, poised, and charismatic man coming undone like an inexperienced teenager in no time.
Even if you couldn’t take each inch of him, the pressure of your tongue joining in drove him mad.
“Je suis proche,” Alastor huffed. “I’m close.”
His hand shot out, fingers weaving into your hair, yanking your head off his cock with a ‘Pop!’
“Wait, I don’t want to finish just yet — fuck.”
Your hand remained fisted around the base of his cock, however, pumping him.
That and Alastor had warned you a tad bit too late, staring up at him through your lashes in amusement, the coil in his belly snapping.
His length stiffened in your palm before pulsating and throbbing, thick, hot ropes of his spend spurting from his cockhead. The muscles in his abdomen flexed, a soft, shaky exhale tumbling from his lips, his eyes watching in horror and a hint of morbid curiosity as you caught the evidence of his pleasure on your tongue, willingly and eagerly.
He lapped the blood of his victims off his knife, but somehow this was more filthy, at least to him.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Alastor stated dryly.
You crawled up his body, tossing your legs over either side of his waist, straddling his lap once more.
“No, I didn’t, but I wanted to,” You cooed.
You proceeded to peck him on the lips, making his nose crinkle. He didn’t pull away, though.
Surprisingly, Alastor tentatively returned the gesture, lips gliding against yours. It was soft, ghost-like, uncertain, everything that was opposed to his persona, but what mattered to you was that he was the one who initiated the kiss. You reached behind you, unclasping your brassiere, removing it and haphazardly tossing it aside.
You wound your arms around his shoulders, melting into his mouth, your bare breasts pressing up against the smooth plane of his chest.
Thank God for the rain and the thunder, even if he eventually had to walk back home in such awful weather. They drowned out the pathetic noises you effortlessly pulled from him, including the full-throated, resonant groan Alastor let out at the sudden feeling of your bare cunt grazing his soft cock, stirring him back to life.
You pushed against him, sending him tumbling back on your bed, his lips parting from yours.
“This time, make sure to warn me before you finish,” You told Alastor, sitting up on his lap and reaching behind you. “Not when you’re about to finish, alright? I’m not ready to become a momma.”
He rolled his eyes with an unamused huff, though you were quick to steal that look off his face.
You grabbed a hold of the base of Alastor’s length, guiding his cockhead through your folds, lathering him in your slick. It almost felt as if you were tormenting him, taunting him, but in truth, penetration was more daunting to you than oral sex. You didn’t dive down like you had with your tongue, guiding him to your entrance, sinking down slowly.
Long, slender fingers scrambled to clutch at your thighs, nails threatening to puncture the flesh, but if Alastor was overwhelmed, then what were you?
“F-Fuck me,” You stuttered, hands falling over Alastor’s, a wince on your face. “Either you’re too big or they lied to me about it being a little sting.”
Or perhaps it was both, your walls pulsating around his length, squeezing him oh-so tight.
“Christ,” Alastor heaved, pupils dilating as he cast his gaze down, spotting a streak of crimson. “Did they also tell you that you’d bleed?”
Yes, of course you were told that, your eyes fluttering shut with a slow nod as you continued to sink down, planting your palms on his chest.
Alastor knew about that, too, he just didn’t expect to like it as much as he did as you finally seated yourself on his cock. In fact, he liked it so much that he slowly moved a hand down to the inside of your thigh, fingers subtly sprawling apart, catching the small droplets of blood on the very tips as you struggled to adjust to the intrusion.
He didn’t care that it was supposed to be a testament of your virginity.
The sight was just… sickeningly gratifying.
He made sure to get a taste of you before you decided you were ready.
Your eyes cracked open, lifting yourself up and rolling your hips down, tentative, experimental. For Alastor, the effect was instantaneous, the hands on your thighs squeezing with a long, shaky exhale, your gummy walls greedily taking what your mouth couldn’t reach. Though his hair was still damp, stray curls clung to his forehead, sweaty.
On the other hand, you had to find the right pace, a better rhythm, moving your hips in all sorts of ways till you had the two of you gasping in synchrony.
“Fuck, Al, this is… oh, fuck,” You struggled to string a coherent sentence, moans and cries haphazardly tumbling from your lips.
You tossed your head back, his cock sliding in and out of your cunt.
“But I need more… I need more, please,” You whimpered, grabbing one of his hands, guiding him to the apex of your thigh. “R-Rub me.”
Each slick drag of his length against your walls drove you closer and closer to the edge, his cockhead nudging a sensitive spot inside of you.
You wanted more, though, guiding his thumb over his own length as you continued to ride him, lubricating him, only to press the pad against that sensitive little button. It was swollen, neglected, and it showed, your walls clamping down around his cock as you showed him how you liked to be rubbed, a familiar pressure coiling in your belly.
Alastor could also feel it, a curse seeping past his lips as he rolled your clit around with his thumb, more or less matching the pace of your hips.
“Yes, yes, like that! P-Please, oh, please.”
If he hadn’t come undone once already, he was sure that he would have done so long ago.
“Tu es juste insatiable, mon dieu.”
It was a delicious sensation, one that Alastor hadn’t realized he was missing out on, slick sounds resonating throughout your bedroom.
But it was also a sensation that he was certain he wouldn’t overindulge in, or do with a random, even though he understood why others did it now. The entire affair was far too vulnerable for his liking, especially in a submissive position. And, if you told him that this was a one and done kind of thing, he would never have sex again.
Though Alastor wouldn’t let you go that easily.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” You vulgarly chanted.
You had seen parts of him he never intended to be seen outside of his own eyes.
“Such a dirty mouth you have.”
No, Alastor couldn’t let you go that easily.
And while he still didn’t think he was deserving of you, he was certain that he could treat you the way you deserved to be treated. He would do anything for you, his best friend and perhaps his future wife, his hips canting upwards and his thumb vigorously rubbing your clit. The coil in your belly finally snapped, your walls pulsing, your hips stuttering.
It felt terribly good, feeling you coat his length in your pleasure, but he couldn’t relish it for long.
“Oh… that’s,” Alastor groaned. “Eugh.”
Thankfully, he was quick enough this time around, seizing your waist and lifting you off him. He tossed you aside, his cock smacking against his stomach, hot, thick ropes of his spend coating his skin.
“It’s your own cum,” You mused with a huff.
Alastor still begged to differ, but he relaxed into the mattress and tossed an arm over his eyes, spent.
You were also spent, the mind-numbing orgasm making you feel boneless. However, if you didn’t tidy up now, you could risk the chance of waking up to your parents going ballistic over the scandalous sight. Your mother because she was a staunch believer of no sex before marriage, and your father, well, he was just plain awful.
If you knew that Alastor had no intention of letting you lay with another man, you would jump at the opportunity to leave right then and there.
Anyway, you shimmied off the bed, making a beeline for your drawers. Of course, the man laying next to you noticed, tossing his arm to the side and lifting his head up, curious. His face flared up as he watched you put on a fresh pair of panties and your nightgown, even though he had just seen you top him, completely bare.
“Are you tidying up right now?” Alastor inquired, fixing to turn his head away.
But then a piece of fabric hit his face with a ‘Thwack!’, draping over his sharp nose.
“What is this —” Alastor scoffed, snatching it. “Oh, it’s a handkerchief.”
You offered him a grin, staggering around, sore from the sex and drunk from the moonshine.
“Cleanin’ up before I forget,” You said. “So should you. I need you up and running by dawn, mister.”
Alastor rolled his eyes, but he quickly got the memo, cleaning up the mess on his skin before picking up his own clothes. They were wet, and his briefs… well, they were only doing slightly better than his clothes, his nose wrinkling at the crotch area in distaste. He put his briefs on anyway, while the rest he draped at the foot of your bed to dry.
“How delightful, I get to return home at an inconspicuous hour, clothes all wet, the stench of sin clinging to my skin,” Alastor sighed. “And you? Oh, you get to feign the perfect, God-fearing daughter, because I let you seduce me in your home.”
You let out a laugh, everything either neatly put away or lazily shoved out of sight. The handkerchief was one of those things, casting it under your bed.
“Life isn’t fair, mon ange,” You mimicked Alastor as you approached him, making his eyes roll with a snort. “It is cruel, as am I. This is revenge for accusing me of seducing you after six failed dates. I mean, that was low, even for your standards.”
You had no idea what ‘cruel’ looked like. Cruel was the fate each man who had asked you out on a date suffered at his hands. Cruel was the way he butchered each man who had asked you out on a date into pieces, before ultimately being fed to some hungry gators. However, because he had no intention of telling you that, he nodded.
“Oh, tu es vraiment cruel, mon amour.”
“I still don’t understand a lick of what you’re saying, but I must say, I quite prefer being called that instead of ‘mon ange,’ or however you pronounce it.”
“My love, that’s what it means, you insufferable brat.”
“Alastor Hartfelt! Scratch that, I’m not cruel, I’m evil! Let me remind you that you were the one that was moaning underneath me like a bitch in heat —”
“Where is the rest of the shine Mimzy gave you!?”