Chapter Text
"You had better slow down, Charlie," Alastor said, tone derisive, "I've known far too many dames who couldn't hold their liquor, and you've been nursing quite a few of these," he finished, picking up her glass.
"I've half a mind to cut you off before you do anything you'd regret."
Charlie gave him a glare, snatching her glass away and pounding it back. She slammed the glass back to the table, speaking the moment she had swallowed.
"Didn't you live during prohibition?" She asked, a thin mocking tone of her own.
He simply smirked wider, rocking back on his heels. He seemed to be in a playful mood. He'd had a couple drinks during the fiasco as well. Charlie kept her full attention on him, not exactly waiting for a response, but in her pitiful way to establish herself as a demon who Alastor would not back down. It was a game they played, the borderline dangerous banter and posturing. After a beat, he tucked his hands behind his back, and took a pointed look around the party hall. Charlie watched his gaze--she knew exactly what he was looking over.
"My dear, the party is long over, the entertainment donefor, and after quite the night of *fun* I'd say just about anyone is due for a good blink to repair themselves, wouldn't you say?" Again, he was mocking the botched sobriety celebration; the tables overturned, the wallpaper scuffed, the whiskey and wine stains across the tablecloths.
"At least we got the fires put out right away." Her voice was strong to start, but Charlie ended with a sigh.
"Yes, yes. A small victory," he waved his hand at the mess of the hall, which Nifty had yet to tidy up. "And you do have to count those, or else this entire charade would be a miserable affair." He laughed heartily when Charlie's browns knit in a deep scowl at him. Her blatent anger at his jibe was hilarious. Her face only became hotter with his mockery.
"I'm off to bed myself, see that you don't beat yourself up for tonight's foul-up. It was interesting to watch." He turned on his heel to leave. The sound of the falling chair was his only warning before he made to avoid her ireous grasp.
Except.
He didn't.
If he was surprised by Charlie halting his flit out of her way, it didn't show on his face. The front of Alastor's coat held in her fist, she dragged him down to her height. She glared at his grinning face, red eye to red eye, nose nearly against nose.
"Sometimes I really can't stand you, Al," she spat.
"But dear," he chuckled, "we're standing right now."
Again, one could rarely be sure of The Radio Demon's true emotions while he wore that steadfast grin, but one couldn't say he expected the next moment, either. Was he surprised at the press of black lips and white fangs against his own? A miniscule widening of his eyes may be a tell, however brief.
Moments ticked by and the odd pair were sat against a lounge couch. A gloved hand gripped the demoness's chin to tear her away from the mouth beneath hers. She was already breathing heavily.
"My my my. This again, Charlie? You're well aware that--"
"Yeah, yeah, you don't like to be touched. You do like this, though." With that, she bit down on her own lip, razor-edged fangs sliding through her skin and red welling up against her white teeth, her white skin. She watched the other demon's eyes. He couldn't hide his nature from her. He couldn't hide the way his pupils dilated and his eyes widened, practically begging for a taste. It wasn't the first time she'd kissed him, and it wasn't the first time he'd tasted blood.
"Isn't. That. Right?" She pressed her lips back to his, feeling his tongue come to collect the blood smeared across them. The taste of iron and salt between them was lapped away quickly, the blood of a disgraced angel within her swiftly sealing her wounds. He bit again, no doubt wanting more, more. She bit her own tongue, so that he would seek out that taste in her mouth, deepening the depraved kiss. Her horns butted against now extended antlers every so often.
Tongue and teeth and breath pressed against one another, and Charlie began to run her hands down his shoulders, down his chest. His chest...what sort of figure was he hiding behind his thick coat and dress shirt? Clavicle, pectoral, ribs...abdominals. She undid the first button of his coat.
"What are you doing?" He interrupted the bloody kiss and her exploration with a hand pushing her away by the jaw, thumb hooked in her mouth. His breathing came just quicker than normal. Static seemed to mix more with his voice than before. Charlie pulled away from his hand.
"What do you think?" She asked, voice breathless. "I'm trying to get you naked."
"Why?"
She blinked.
"Why?" She repeated his question. It hadn't been mocking, or knowing, or thoughtful. It was just there. A simple, curious question.
"What do you mean, 'why'? You...you are the whole reason Vaggie and I broke it off. I thought--"
"Are you really that broken? You seem friendly enough to me."
"We...are still friends...but..." she shook her head. She pried apart the second button on his coat, but his hands stilled hers, gripping around them firmly.
"Al, come on. Don't play with me, not now."
"Mmn...no," he said, an amused note returning to his voice, "This isn't going to continue."
Charlie shot him a puzzled look.
"Wha..?"
"I have no interest in that sort of carnal desire. You have to know that by now, don't you?"
"What?"
"You're a faulty record, aren't you?"
Charlie sat back on his lap. She knit her brows.
"Maybe that's so. But you enjoy the thrill of carnage, gore, violence and--" she bit her lip again, "you *love* this." She watched his eyes track the line of red that trailed down her chin, sullying the white of her shirt as it met her collar. His Adam's apple--hah!--moving as he swallowed thickly. He probably wanted more than just her blood. She had read up on him. He'd tasted the flesh of his own, and he likely wanted to taste her meat as well--but he was smarter than that. It wouldn't do for Alastor to permanently damage her body. The wrath of her parents was more than enough to keep them in power for all these millennia. He should know there were those with more power than himself who had been erased by the formerly angelic power of her father.
He still wanted it though.
"Would you like to cut a deal?" His eyes flicked back up to hers. She was serious. He rolled his eyes. He released her hands and she immediately went to the last button of his coat, fanning it open.
"Hmmm...what do you think, dear?"
"I think that with a little--" she unbuttoned his pants "--physical stimulus, anything is possible."
"You sound so sure of yourself. I'll have you know, it never appealed to me in life, and it doesn't now."
Charlie yanked his shirt up to untuck it. She didn't care much for his prattle right now. She tugged her own bowtie loose and off, forwent all but the top button of her shirt, peeling it off over her head.
"Nothing to do with you, though. You're still a proper belle if I ever did see one."
She was startled by his hand on her face again. He touched her cheek before seeming to think on it. He brought his hand back to his mouth, licking a bit of blood from his glove. Her toes curled, watching him remove the glove with his teeth. Her breathing was getting heavy again, swaying slightly on his lap. There was just something about a person taking their gloves off in that manner that did something to her. Some stange level of eroticism was within that gesture.
And by the look in his gaze, he knew it. Alastor wasn't ignorant. He just wasn't interested in sex.
That hand was at her chin again, smearing the blood and drawing her closer. This time he was at her throat, licking a hot trail up, following the line of blood. She moaned softly into his hair.
"Oh?" Alastor said, a dark smirk evident in his tone, "is this a sensative place for you?" Charlie shut her eyes tight, cheeks burning. She busied her hands with his own bowtie, before moving on to the buttons of his shirt. Her own mouth moved to his shoulder, once she had the skin available to her.
"Don't play with me." She sunk her own teeth into the greyish tan skin. Two could certainly play at this.
Shivers ran up and down her spine at the sound of his own soft gasp. The sound was so pure and unplanned, she felt a little smug about it. She bit again, remembering that she, too, had the dark nature of a demon. She lapped at the blood--rich and metalic--as Alastor's hands began to roam her back. He was counting the vertebrae. He'd mentioned to her how he wondered how similar or dissimilar she was to a human. He still had that intrigue into human anatomy, muscle meat, organ meat...
Her hands pushed under his shirt and...She had to see for herself. His muscle felt toned and lean under her palms. Yet, her fingertips found strange...oh...
She saw now. He had died in a rather violent manner, some retained the scars from their deaths even as sinners in Hell. He definitely did. There were so many of them. Had he really been conscious for the entire thing? It didn't matter anymore. Just under his skin, his chest and stomach were...
Really nice.
"What did you expect, Charlie?" Al was knowingly smirking at her.
"Al, shut up." She tugged on his shirt.
"Interesting that the princess of Hell is so intent on--"
"For fuck's sake, please just shut up." She crushed her lips back against his. He hummed in amusement, resting his hands on her hips and allowing her to remove his shirt and press into his lips harshly.