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Since Sir Pentious’ sacrifice for the hotel, Charlie found herself spending more and more time with Alastor. He was good company; a patient listener when she needed to vent, a neutral sounding board when she needed to bounce off ideas, and when she needed a distraction from the chaos of the hotel, she delighted in hearing his stories of what it was like on the surface, with their music and restaurants and dances. At first, Alastor would sometimes accompany Charlie on her outings to put up flyers and meet with potential clientele, but eventually, Charlie found herself tagging along for some of Alastor’s errands—his morning walks, his visits to a surprisingly-pleasant café in Cannibal Town (though she stuck to getting drinks only), his stops to the tailor. Inevitably, they would, at times, run into violence—usually, Alastor would break up a fight or step in to rescue some small, weak demon being tormented by a larger one—and he always took it as an opportunity to teach Charlie something, whether it was conflict resolution, dealmaking, or, to her discomfort, a combat technique.
They were growing so close that Charlie found herself approaching Alastor with news, sometimes, even before she went to Vaggie.
“Al!” she exclaimed as she entered the hotel. “I had the best day! I met a whole group of demons outside of LuLu World, and they’re going to come by later this week!”
“That’s wonderful, sweetheart,” Alastor said, smiling at her. "So wonderful, I think that we should celebrate! It’s been a while since we did anything fun.”
Charlie clapped her hands.
“Sounds fun! What did you have in mind?”
“I’ll make dinner, and you take care of the drinks,” he said. “How does that sound?”
“Perfect!” Charlie said. “Where should we have it? The lobby?”
“I was thinking my room,” Alastor said.
“Okay! What time should I tell everyone to show up?” Charlie asked.
“A few hours from now,” Alastor said. “But let’s keep this just you and I. It’s been too long since we spent some quality time together.”
“We went for a walk together two days ago.”
“And I’ve missed hearing your charming little voice ever since,” Alastor said, grinning at her.
Charlie felt herself blushing. It still felt flattering, even after all this time, that someone as strong and storied as Alastor wanted to spend time with her.
“Sure,” she said after a moment. “I’ll come by in a few hours, then.”
Charlie didn’t know much about drinks. She thought about asking Husker for some recommendation, but he wasn’t at the bar—probably, she thought, off somewhere with Angel. She vaguely recalled that Angel had given her a bottle of wine a few weeks ago when she mentioned that her and Vaggie’s fourth anniversary was coming up.
“This’ll make things extra special,” he had said as he handed it to her.
But Charlie and Vaggie ended up not even cracking it open, since, Charlie recalled with a faint blush, she couldn’t keep her hands off her girlfriend as soon as the door was closed. But maybe that was for the best, because she and Alastor could drink it tonight. She located the bottle in her room and, a few hours later, went down to knock on Alastor’s door.
“Charlie! Glad you could make it, my dear,” he said, smiling at her.
“Well, of course,” she said, stepping inside.
Normally, Alastor’s choice of decor made her feel a little uneasy whenever she was in his space, but the atmosphere was different tonight. Slow jazz was playing from the radio on top of his shelf, and the room was filled with the scent of salt and butter and garlic.
“It smells amazing,” Charlie said as she walked over to the table in the center of the room and put the bottle down.
“Tastes amazing, too,” Alastor said. “It’s been a while since I prepared this kind of meat.”
Charlie gave him a smile.
“I think you’re going to love it,” he said in a singsong voice.
Alastor picked up the wine bottle, glanced at it, and then smiled at Charlie as he opened it.
“Excellent choice, my dear. A red will be perfect for this,” he said.
“Oh, good,” Charlie said. “I don’t know much about wine, but I got it from Angel.”
“Angel?” Alastor repeated, cocking an eyebrow.
“He gave it to me as an anniversary present, for me and Vaggie,” she said. “You know, Angel’s actually really nice. He’s not just some screw-up.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Alastor said.
Alastor served them their food—plated impeccably, in a way that Charlie had only seen in books—and they began eating and chatting. When they were about halfway through their meal, Charlie noticed Alastor beginning to eat more slowly. Then, he paused just as he pierced the meat with his fork.
Furrowing his brow, he leaned back in his chair.
“Are you okay, Al?”
The man nodded. Humming softly, he began unbuttoning his coat.
“Do you mind if I take my jacket off, dear?”
“Uh, sure,” Charlie said. "I mean, you don’t need to ask.”
Alastor laughed softly.
“When I was alive,” he started, “it was considered quite rude for a gentleman to remove his jacket in public—especially while dining.”
"Really?” Charlie said. “That’s…kinda weird. Why?”
The man sighed softly as he stood up.
“Ladies and gentlemen should always be presentable,” he said, and gently pulled his jacket off of his shoulders. "It’s disrespectful to other guests if you look a mess.”
He draped the jacket over his chair and sat back down.
“Or if you’re simply not dressed for the occasion,” he said, and gave her a wide smile. “And any occasion with friends is one to be celebrated.”
He took a sip from his glass.
“That’s something I’ve always admired about you, my dear,” he said. "You’re always impeccably dressed.”
“Aw, thank you, Al,” Charlie said.
“Though, back in my day,” he said, “pantsuits were reserved for the men.”
He took another sip from his glass and grinned widely at her.
“I guess we know who wears the pants in your relationship,” he said, and the pair laughed.
In these moments, thought Charlie, she could scarcely believe that the man in front of her was an Overlord. His soft smile, his smooth laugh, the relaxed slope of his shoulders…
It was strange, she thought, to see Alastor without his jacket. She had, she realized, never once seen him without it. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the subtle outline where his pink shirtsleeve hugged his slightly-defined biceps. The shirt was somewhat snug across his chest, and tapered at the waist.
“Are you feeling alright, my dear?” Alastor said with a grin.
He still had multiple layers of clothing on. Was she seriously getting distracted by the vague implication of a body shape?
“Uh—yeah. Yeah, sorry.”
He gingerly cut off a piece of meat and placed it in his mouth, and swallowed it down with a sip of wine.
“This turned out very well, if I do say so myself,” he said.
Charlie nodded.
“It’s really good,” she said.
With a quiet sigh, he unfastened the button on his left wrist and began rolling up his shirtsleeve, re-fastening it at his elbow. He did the same for the other side.
She had, she thought, never seen this much of his skin before. It felt almost risqué—as ridiculous as it was. Charlie chuckled, hoping that her face wasn’t red.
“I’m feeling a little warm,” Alastor said.
Charlie noticed that his cheeks were slightly flushed.
"Are you already getting drunk, Al?” Charlie said, grinning at him.
It would be amusing, she thought, if the nearly-all-powerful Radio Demon, the man who struck fear in nearly every passerby, was a lightweight.
“I don’t think so,” he said. “Though, I am feeling a little…strange.”
“Strange?” she repeated. “Not to be rude, but…maybe there’s something off about the meat?”
"Highly unlikely, my dear,” Alastor said. "My butcher is the finest this side of the Pentagram.”
Charlie felt her stomach sink. She hadn’t, she thought, actually asked him what they were eating.
“This isn’t, uh…You didn’t get this from Cannibal Town, did you, Al?”
Alastor laughed.
“No, sweetheart,” he said. “It’s venison.”
Did that, she thought, count as cannibalism, if he was partly a deer? Was he actually partly a deer, or did he just look like one? Maybe a little later, she could ask him.
He stared at his plate for a moment, grinning widely, his gaze slightly unfocused. Maybe he was lying about being drunk, she thought.
He leaned over across the table.
“Pardon my reach,” he said, and picked up the bottle beside her. He scanned the label and his eyes went wide.
"My dear,” he said after a moment. “I think, perhaps, I’m coming down with something.”
He placed the bottle beside him.
“Why don’t you head back to your room, and we can finish celebrating another time?”
"Coming down with something?” Charlie repeated. “Like, the flu? I read about that before. I didn’t realize Sinners could get sick here.”
“Yes, well, Hell is full of surprises,” Alastor said, shifting backwards in his seat. “Be a good girl and run along, now. I’ll see you again soon.”
Charlie stood up slowly. She had read that people with the flu could have chills, headache, nausea, and all sorts of other unpleasant things. Whether he was suddenly sick somehow, or had just had too much to drink, she couldn’t in good conscience leave him alone.
“Oh, Al, I don’t want to leave you by yourself if you’re not feeling well. Let me help you.”
He was, she thought, definitely the sort of person who would deny needing help.
“You’re a sweet girl, Charlie,” Alastor said. "But I’m fine, I assure you. I just need to lie down.”
Charlie walked over to his side of the table.
“Well, then, let me help you to bed,” she said.
“That’s quite alright,” Alastor said, crossing his legs.
When she looked at him, he gave her a small smile. His face was definitely flushed. Maybe he was sick?
Charlie placed the back of her hand against his cheek. His skin felt surprisingly soft. He bristled against her touch.
“Charlie, dear,” he said. “What—”
“You feel hot,” she said. “Maybe you’re running a fever. Do they even sell fever reducers down at the drug store? Or just, you know, drugs? I’ve never actually been there. I bet Angel would know. I’ll go ask him.”
“No,” Alastor said sharply. “No. There’s no need, my dear, just…"
He took a deep breath and exhaled shakily. Wordlessly, he placed his gloved hand on top of hers and pressed it firmly against his cheek. It felt like leather. He slowly dragged her hand down his face, until his lips brushed over her fingertips.
“You smell divine,” he breathed.
Charlie felt her stomach flip.
“Um…thank you?” she said.
Charlie froze as Alastor pressed gentle kisses onto each of her fingernails, then his mouth parted slightly and she felt her hand being pushed gently inside, his tongue and teeth grazing her knuckles.
“Alastor!” she cried, yanking her hand backwards. “What the fuck are you doing?!”
He grunted softly, his eyes widening, and he slid his chair backwards, creating a foot of distance between them.
"Sorry, my dear,” he said softly with a small chuckle. "I’m not…feeling like myself.”
Maybe, she thought, she should leave. The man was not in his right mind. But how could she leave someone who needed her? Especially Alastor, who had given her so much help over the past year.
“Charlie,” the man said, his voice growing stern, his smile small. “You should go.”
“I can’t just leave you like this,” she said.
He seemed to be avoiding her gaze.
Her eyes drifted to the bottle on the table and she picked it up. She had never, she thought, actually read the label. It wasn’t as though she knew anything about wine. It had seemed a little strange that Angel, who preferred strong cocktails, would have it, but she thought nothing of it—her dad, and by extension, her, seemed to end up with piles of things they’d never use. And the label was cute—covered with black and pink and red hearts—so it seemed like something Angel would like.
She turned the bottle around in her hands and scanned the description.
“Notes of cherry…sweet…pairing of ingredients…enhanced with aphrodisiacs created in collaboration with Verosika Mayday…”
What?!
Charlie glanced back at Alastor, who shifted his legs in his seat.
Aphrodisiacs, she thought. Alastor, who was constantly turning down Angel’s advances and shutting down his innuendoes, who seemed, at his most charitable, to be indifferent to anything remotely sexual in nature…Surely, if anyone were to be immune to this sort of thing, it would be him.
Come to think of it, why wasn’t she feeling anything? She had had a glass as well. She didn’t find Alastor to be unattractive, certainly—but she could say the same about Angel or even Nifty. She definitely wasn’t feeling uncomfortable, the way Alastor seemed to be. Though he was still smiling, his brows were furrowed and she could hear him taking loud, deep breaths.
“Alastor,” she exclaimed, and walked over to him.
The man un-crossed and re-crossed his legs. It almost, she thought, looked like…
“Alastor,” she said. “Do you have a boner right now?”
“Charlotte!”Alastor said, his ears pressed flat against his head. "That kind of language is not appropriate between friends.”
"Uh, I dunno,” she said. “Angel and Husk and Vaggie and I say it all the time.”
Alastor let out a loud sigh.
“Listen,” Charlie said, “I think maybe I accidentally poisoned you? It says on the bottle—”
“I read it,” he said quietly.
“I’m so, so sorry!”
“Don’t apologize, my dear,” he said. “I should’ve known something was strange the moment I heard that you got it from Angel.”
This was, Charlie thought, all her fault. She could leave right now—in fact, that seemed to be what Alastor wanted—but she would feel so guilty, getting him into this mess without helping him out of it. And she would be lying to herself if she said that the thought of the all-powerful Radio Demon, breathless and vulnerable, didn’t make her extremely curious.
Vaggie would understand, right? She’d probably think it was a little funny, to see the great Alastor, humbled, turned into a quivering mess underneath her…
The curiosity, Charlie thought, was winning out. Though she didn’t know why, intimacy always brought out this more aggressive side of herself.
“I’m going to help you take care of this, Al,” she said.
“No,” he said with a chuckle. “I assure you, I can take care of myself. Just leave.”
Charlie stepped towards him and he leaned back into his chair, creating a small amount of distance between them.
He couldn’t possibly be afraid of her. Even if he was physically weakened—which, she thought, seemed like a strange thing to have a drug that was supposed to be for pleasure do—he was still, surely, one of the strongest entities in Hell, let alone in the room. Was he, she thought, afraid of being unable to control himself? He seemed to be doing a good-enough job so far, and if he did get out of control somehow, Charlie knew that she wasn’t weak.
She was doing this all wrong. Thinking about it too much, and moving too fast. She took a deep breath.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Fine,” he said, sounding out-of-breath, still refusing to meet her eyes.
“Are you hot?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Why don’t you take some more layers off?” Charlie said softly.
“I will, after you leave,” he said.
Charlie crossed her arms.
“I’ll leave after you do,” she said.
Alastor chuckled.
“Is that a deal, my dear?”
"Yes,” she said. "If you want, I’ll leave the room after you take your shirt off.”
Alastor hadn’t yet taught her much about dealmaking, but she had picked up from him that, for the person constructing the terms, the more vagueness one could get away with, the better.
This one had a lot of wiggle room. She could leave his room and then come right back in, and the rule could only be enforced in the first place if he really wanted her to…
"Very well,” Alastor said simply, gazing at her. “No need to shake on it.”
He, she thought, must not have been thinking clearly. She felt a pang of guilt.
With a small sigh, Alastor placed one hand on the front of his bowtie and the other at the back and pulled, and it fell to the floor. Then, he moved to unbutton his shirt. She noticed his hands trembling.
"I’ll do it,” she said.
Stepping in front of him, she began unfastening the buttons. She could feel his hot breath on her face. She felt Alastor slowly running his quivering fingers through her hair, humming softly. After the first few buttons, she saw glimpses of his skin past the fabric.
Suddenly, Charlie felt herself being pressed against Alastor’s nearly-bare chest as he wrapped his arms around her waist, his nails digging into her sides, his head buried in her neck. She felt his erection pressing against her. Charlie yelped as his teeth punctured her skin. Gripping both his shoulders, she pushed him backwards.
“Al!” she exclaimed, and glared at him. His eyes were wide. She felt his grip on her loosening and stepped back until she was out of his reach.
Was he losing control? The thought of taming a wild beast made her stomach stir a little.
His breathing was ragged, his smile crooked, his gaze unfocused. He groaned softly, squirming in his chair.
“Charlie, dear,” he said, his voice low. “Either leave, or come over here. I can’t stand the teasing.”
So much for their deal, she thought.
“So, you do want my help after all?” Charlie said, giving him a small smile.
The man seemed to be avoiding eye-contact.
“Okay,” she said, stepping towards him. “But don’t bite me again, Al. That hurt.”
He hummed in assent, and she moved closer to him. In the next moment, he pounced on top of her, pinning her wrists on either side of her body. He lowered his weight onto her and began to move, his erection grinding against her clit.
Normally, she preferred to be on top—and, indeed, that was how she had pictured this happening—but she wasn’t against letting him take the lead if he knew what he was doing. Somehow, he seemed to know exactly what he was doing, and she found herself climaxing almost instantly.
“Al,” she said softly, pressing her hips up against his.
She could feel his breaths quickening. He pressed harder against her, and his mouth made its way down, and he nipped, lightly, at her neck.
He was teasing her, she thought. Testing her. Pushing her boundaries.
She tried to lift herself up, to free herself from his grasp, but he didn’t yield for a moment, continuing to slowly grind against her as he bit, harder, at her throat.
Charlie felt her stomach tightening. She was, she thought, going to have to show him who was in charge.
Using most of her strength, she sprang up, freeing herself from his grip, and flipping him over onto his back, pinning both of his wrists over his head, and straddling him.
He let out a confused grunt, his eyes wide. Charlie could feel him straining against her hold. She was always gentle with Vaggie, but she didn't have to be gentle now.
“I’m stronger than you,” she said quietly, giving him a small smile.
Alastor had told her several times that she had the potential to be more powerful than he was, although she doubted that he had ever imagined it being used for something like this.
Alastor’s ears flattened against his head. Charlie’s eyes traveled down past his exposed neck, his chest, his stomach, to his erection, that had grown even larger and was straining against his pants.
“You like that, though, don’t you?” she said softly.
She could see sweat dripping down his flushed face. His smile was shaky, and he, again, seemed to be avoiding her eyes.
He began bucking his hips up towards her, but her body was just out of reach. It was so strange, she thought, to see even a hint of desperation from him, and it stirred something inside her.
"You’ve been feeling like this for a while now,” she said. “You’re probably feeling pretty pent-up.”
Alastor grunted, still refusing to meet her gaze.
This was a particularly entertaining moment, thought Charlie, because Alastor could easily stretch and contort his body to meet hers if he had been thinking clearly. But his distress, his need, was plainly on his face, even if he was barely managing to keep his usual grin on it, and it obviously was affecting his reasoning.
Just how desperate, she thought, was he?
“What do you want, Al?” Charlie said sweetly.
Straining, he wrapped his legs around her waist and pulled her body towards his, but she easily pushed back against his attempt, and kept herself just out of reach from his increasingly frenzied movements.
“Use your words,” she said.
He groaned softly, and his face grew even more red.
“You’re not shy, are you?” Charlie said with a small laugh. “We both know how much you love to talk.”
“You know what I want,” he muttered after a few moments, looking at her.
“You want me to touch you?” Charlie said.
He nodded.
With her free hand, Charlie caressed his cheek.
He furrowed his brow, though he seemed to nuzzle against her hand.
“Charlie,” he grunted.
“Oh? That wasn’t what you wanted?” she asked, unable to stop herself.
She had, she thought, always wondered about his ears. She didn’t ever dare touch them, for fear of annoying him, but now she could do whatever she wanted.
She gently ran her finger along his left ear, and he let out a soft moan.
Charlie hadn’t, she thought, ever heard a sound like that come out of his mouth before.
His face was even more flushed, and he, again, seemed to be avoiding eye contact with her, still straining against her.
With a bit more pressure, she took his left ear between her thumb and index finger and stroked it gently.
Alastor groaned, his voice wavering.
If he had ears, Charlie thought, did that mean that he had a tail? It would’ve always been hidden under his jacket, but now…
Charlie slid her hand underneath his back and moved it down, until, sure enough, she felt something fluffy and gave it a light flick.
Alastor’s body jolted upwards, and he let out a loud groan.
“Oh! It’s that sensitive?” Charlie said, grinning at him. “Is that why you keep it covered up?”
Alastor was visibly shaking, panting, and he looked at Charlie with pleading eyes.
What happened, she thought, to the powerful Radio Demon? The man who was ignoring her wishes not three minutes ago?
“Charlie,” he breathed.
“It’s so weird seeing you like this, Al,” she said. “But I think I like it.”
“It’s…” he started, and whimpered as Charlie gently stroked the underside of his tail.
“It’s the poison, I know,” she said.
Her eyes drifted downward. There were wet spots on his crotch.
“Okay, I think I’ve teased you long enough,” she said. “I just couldn’t help it. You probably feel the same way when we’re out fighting things, right?”
He grunted softly as she withdrew her hand from his tail.
"Just promise you won’t be mad at me when we’re done, okay?” she said.
He nodded.
"I don’t know what happens to me when I get like this,” Charlie said quietly. “But, I mean, you did ask me to stay.”
She slowly unzipped the zipper on Alastor’s pants, and his cock sprang out.
Smiling, she looked back at him.
“This is what you wanted, right?” she said.
“Mm-hmm,” he muttered, his voice shaky.
She gripped his shaft tightly, and started moving her hand up and down.
“Fuck,” Alastor moaned softly.
"You like how that feels, Al?” she asked, increasing her speed.
Alastor replied in a garbled moan.
Charlie tightened her grip again, leaned over, and took the tip of his cock into her mouth, encircling it with her tongue.
“Fuck!” Alastor groaned loudly, his pitch rising.
Charlie began slowly bobbing her head up and down, matching her mouth’s movements with her hand’s.
She looked up at him and saw that he was no longer smiling, his mouth hung open as he moaned continuously, his eyes closed, his face flushed.
Charlie increased her speed.
“Charlie,” he started. “I'm…I…”
Removing her mouth, she started pumping his cock even faster, and after a few moments, he let out a series of shuddering gasps as he came.
Charlie smiled up at him.
“Fuck,” he breathed. He looked as though the color had been drained from his face.
Charlie released her grip on his wrists, and scooted up beside his head.
“Are you feeling better, now, Al?” she asked.
After several long breaths, he replied, “Yes, my dear.”
Charlie felt her stomach starting to sink.
Though this, she thought, had felt amazing, she hoped she hadn’t gone overboard. After all, Al was the one who had helped her from the beginning, who would keep helping her for, she hoped, many years. And she had a tendency to get carried away when these things happened.
"I hope I didn’t…I mean I hope I wasn’t too, uh…”
"Don’t worry, my dear,” he said.
“I’m so sorry I poisoned you,” she said.
“If it had to happen, I’m glad it was you instead of someone else,” he said.
“Really?!” Charlie said, beaming.
Alastor chuckled softly, sat up slowly, and zipped up his pants. Then, he began buttoning up his shirt.
"Well, I’ve learned a lot about you today,” Alastor said. “You really take after your mother, don’t you, sweetheart?”
“Wait! You know my mom?”
“I know stories,” he said after a small pause.
“Really? Tell me!”
“I’ll tell you over a meal,” he said. “We never did finish our dinner, and I’m starved.”