Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Alastor’s tongue was deep inside the nameless sinner, who writhed in ecstasy below him on the worn-out mattress of her apartment. Her pleasure was secondary to his goal: a delicacy, available once a month from approximately half the population of Hell. While all sinners were barren, it appears the creator had deemed the menstrual cycle painful and inconvenient enough to continue even after death for those who’d had it in life.

His hobby was a convenient enterprise for a cannibal. He received gourmet meals, and his clients would receive an abbreviated menstrual cycle for the month, often reduced to a single day if he was called upon in a timely manner.

Some sinners would get ideas , of course, given the method of extracting his meals from their bodies, but he took measures against this. Anyone who decided he was romanceable just because his tongue had been eight inches inside them would receive anywhere from a stern talking-to and refusal of service for three months to having their limbs forcibly evicted from their body. This depended, of course, on how pushy they were about it.

The demoness’s obnoxious moans began to transition to a more palatable (hah!) sound of pain as Alastor’s tongue worked her cervix open and some precise shadow tendrils gently scraped her uterine lining out for his eager consumption. It only took a couple minutes to finish the job once the sinner had had enough orgasms to properly loosen her, and Alastor savored every drop.

This all started by accident.

Alastor had arrived in Hell in 1933, a scant two years after dear Mimzy was shot by a mob member she’d insulted (and stolen $600 from, but who’s counting?). Alastor found himself keeping an eye out for his old chum as he settled into his afterlife, and he discovered her bar in Pentagram City a couple years into his tenure. Upon their reunion, he spent several lovely weeks dancing and reminiscing when he wasn’t out slaughtering overlords to maintain his good name in Hell.

Upon seeing his demon form for the first time, Mimzy had gleefully teased him about the deer ears, and they settled into their familiar dynamic as easily as trying on an old favorite shoe. She didn’t even bother chastising him for dying young. And rightfully so – there was a reason they’d always gotten along so well. Their friendship was shallow and entirely transactional, and Alastor wouldn’t have it any other way. She received protection from her own poor life choices, and he got a fun and competent dance partner who wouldn’t “catch feelings” for him. Mimzy would always be as self-serving as he was, and he could trust that. He would never have let her get so close to him in life otherwise.

At twenty-eight years old, Alastor had gotten it into his head that he ought to get his virginity “out of the way”. He had no interest in the act itself, but he refused to let there be an area of expertise in which he did not excel – especially one where so many lesser beings had managed to achieve proficiency. Unfortunately, his lack of interest meant he was, in fact, unable to “follow through”, so to speak. After a fumbling attempt or two at getting the job done, Mimzy had only cocked her head, and with wide eyes said, “Well, if the horizontal tango ain’t your thing, I can show ya how the bulldykes back in Harlem did it!” And thus, he learned the art of what he later learned was called “cunnilingus”, alongside a host of crasser terms.

This skill did not, in fact, become relevant to him in life, as was often the case for random crafts he honed. He hadn’t found much use for crocheting, but he took pride in knowing he could if it somehow became necessary.

That being said, Alastor was sitting with Mimzy in her small Pentagram City flat one day when she “didn't feel like cuttin’ a rug”, despite being in perfectly good spirits otherwise. He smelled something intriguing. The demon surreptitiously leaned closer to identify the scent, but had evidently forgotten just how many of his tells she’d learned in life, because she instantly picked up on his curiosity. “And what’s got you all up in my personal bubble this time, Tall, Dark, n’ Creepy?” she said, leaning closer with a half-grin. “Izzit ‘cause I’m cute?”

A side effect of their transactional friendship-of-sorts was a certain bluntness when it came to expressing what he wanted from her. She could talk around her true motivations all she liked – she couldn’t realistically finesse her way out of a paper bag – but Alastor’s usual layers of careful manipulation were frankly wasted on a woman like Mimzy. “No, it isn’t, though you are charming as usual. Rather, it’s your scent, something is different about you today and I find it compelling. What is it?”

Mimzy sat back, puzzled and looking like she was trying to figure out whether she was being insulted or not. “No new perfumes here, sweetie. What, am I sweaty or somethin’?”

Alastor abandoned subtlety entirely to give her a proper whiff, discovering that the intoxicating scent was in fact emanating from below her skirt. “...Ah. Is there a reason why your unmentionables smell different today?”

Mimzy’s face went uncharacteristically red. Alastor peered at her, curious – it was unlike her to be embarrassed by anything. She was perhaps the most shameless person he’d ever met. Even when speaking on sexual matters, she did not get flustered as so many of their compatriots did. So why now? “Ehm…it’s my time of the month.”

Alastor’s grin lit up, a “ding-ding-ding” sound effect and impromptu light show punctuating his sudden delight. “You mean to say that you are bleeding right now?” he inquired as he leaned in closer, eyes wide.

Mimzy cocked an eyebrow at his display as she flicked a spare piece of confetti off of her shoulder. “Wow. You’re, uh, real enthusiastic about this. Oh, right – you’re a cannibal now, ain’t ya?”

“Ha ha ha! I always was, my dear!” Alastor chortled good-naturedly, placing a hand around her shoulder. “But I must admit, the… craving …has certainly increased upon my change in locale. What say you we put that skill you’d taught me to practice, hm?” 

She raised her eyebrows. “You gonna mind those new teeth of yours?”

“But of course; this blood smells like it will be a true delicacy! Not to insult the rest of your blood, mind you, but I’d simply prefer to keep this flavor pristine. So rest assured I will not be taking any bites while I’m down there!” Any desire on his part not to harm Mimzy was incidental – she would trust this explanation far more, as she should.

“Well, then sure! Clean me up real nice, baby~” she cooed, and it was to her credit that Alastor ignored the continual pet names, knowing she meant none of them.

“Splendid!” And with that, he picked the demoness up, plopped her down on the kitchen table, and began his feast. His tongue, notably, was about 6 inches longer than the last time he'd done this, and there were those aforementioned teeth to consider, so he started slowly. He bared her lower half (with only one stern reminder on her part not to get blood on her dress), laving his tongue around the outside and humming appreciatively at the flavor of the coagulated blood at the crux of her thighs.

His cautious intent flew out the window, though, when he dipped that long tongue shallowly inside for the first time and the full flavor of her menses hit his senses. He plunged the muscle deep within her, lapping up every drop of blood in a frenzy. After a couple minutes, he absently noted she was making the sounds he’d learned to associate with an oncoming orgasm. He excitedly wondered how much more blood he could coax from within her. He removed his tongue from her sex, making sure to rub it against the spongy spot towards the front that in life he’d only been able to reach with his fingers, and lapped at her clitoris. Her moans filled the air as she came, and his reward took the form of a gush of blood that contained a large clot, driving him wild as the tip of his tongue sought the opening hidden deep within her.

There was more in there, he knew. Enough to bleed continuously for four days, five days, he needed it all. He would not leave until he was properly sated.

Mimzy began whimpering from overstimulation as Alastor continued, flicking the tip of his tongue eagerly against her cervix, which had opened up slightly from her orgasm. More blood rushed out towards him and a long groan escaped him, unbidden. He needed to go deeper. He caught the eye of his delighted shadow, which was serving as lookout and impromptu voyeur from the ceiling above them. Two thin, shadowy tendrils appeared and dove into the demoness’s folds on either side of Alastor’s tongue, reaching past the tip to push directly into her womb.

Mimzy started to clench around him at this intrusion, so Alastor paused his tendrils’ ministrations and flexed his tongue against the spongy tissue within her until he felt the signs of another orgasm taking shape. The sinner’s back arched and she wailed as the tendrils began to work their way around her insides, peeling her uterine lining away from the walls. The resulting wave of blood caused Alastor’s eyes to roll up in his head as he feasted.

As the Radio Demon lapped up the last of Mimzy’s period, she panted wildly and sought to get her wits about her. “Okay,” she wheezed, hand to her forehead, “first off, fuck you for springin’ that on me. But did you…take all of it?”

Alastor licked his lips smugly. “All gone, my dear.”

Forgetting her prior indignation in an instant, Mimzy asked excitedly, “Can ya do that every month?”

Alastor felt his grin extend nearly past the boundary of his cheeks as he brought her some water. It appeared he was in business.

Since that first time assisting Mimzy, he'd been back monthly to partake. Upon befriending Rosie several years later, he was assured she was “well taken care of” in that regard, but she was able to set him up with additional clients, such as this nameless demoness here.

Dabbing at his mouth delicately with a conjured napkin, Alastor took his leave from her apartment, the worn-out sinner snoozing on the bed behind him.

Checking his pocket watch, he saw that he was just in time to start breakfast at the hotel for all those unfortunate enough not to share his cannibalistic tastes. Oh, well, more for him. Alastor had to admit, it was hilarious to see the look on Charlie's face when she'd been offered those pinky fingers at the Emporium the other day. He was glad he'd been able to pass Charlie off to Rosie, as the princess’s incessant emotional rambling was getting on his nerves. Granted, the revelation of her paramour’s angelic nature was quite a surprise, but…

Angelic .

Alastor stopped dead in his tracks. He passed the gesture off as looking in a shop window, but his mind was suddenly reeling. There was an actual angel staying at the hotel. An angel whom he knew from the smell each month did indeed menstruate. The small taste of angelic blood he'd gotten at the overlord meeting was the most flavorful he'd ever had, and he could only imagine how Vaggie’s fresh uterine lining would taste. He salivated at the thought.

While not broadly known, his cunnilinguistic habits were not kept a closely guarded secret - he could easily kill anyone who questioned him or insinuated he would perform other sexually-adjacent acts, after all. However, his clients were always a suitable combination of grateful and intimidated enough that this hadn't been an issue. It didn't hurt that the Radio Demon was known for his voice, not his looks, and he wasn't particularly chatty with any of his clients besides Mimzy and Niffty. As a result, it was unlikely the other inhabitants of the hotel knew about this hobby of his. At the very least, Angel Dust certainly would have had something to say otherwise. But with the opportunity offered by Vaggie’s heavenly origins – this could be worth the awkwardness of blending business and pleasure.

If Alastor played his cards right, he could have access to a golden feast every month. But it would not do to playact some grand seduction. Not only because he had no interest in such a thing, but Vaggie was romantically spoken for, and he had no wish to interfere in that regard. If he were delicate about it, though, and found the right angle...

Approaching the former exorcist directly would never work – she was too suspicious to allow him between her legs right away. But if he took Charlie on as a client, assuring Vaggie she was well taken care of…that was a possibility. He knew Charlie suffered particularly painful cramps each month; the princess had the poker face of a silent film star, and her attempts at hiding the discomfort were laughable at best. He respected the way she smiled through it, but there really was no point, when he would be happy to rid her of the source of her woes. Both she and Vaggie might be eager for Charlie to receive his services, if they could only get over the hesitation brought on by the traditional connotations of having one’s tongue shoved deep within another’s sex. And Vaggie’s inherent suspicion of everything Alastor ever did. Rather inconvenient, but it simply couldn’t be helped.

He found his opportunity shortly after breakfast. Angel and Husk had skedaddled, leaving only Charlie and Vaggie gazing into each other’s eyes at the kitchen table like lovestruck puppies while Niffty started on the dishes. The petite cyclops had been a client of his for decades, and she’d become one of his favorites even before she started working for him. She appreciated his services without ever indicating romantic interest in him – plus, he never had to watch his claws while helping himself to her, as any incidental puncture wounds would only encourage her orgasms.

He sidled up to the little maid – it was showtime. Ensuring his voice was just loud enough to be overheard, he inquired, “Niffty dear, when did you say our next, hm, appointment together would be?”

“Ohh, right!” She pulled a calendar out of some pocket dimension or other, rifling through it until she came to a day covered in red scribbles. “Hmmmm, I should be bleeding in just a couple days, you can take it out then!” She looked gleeful at the prospect.

Ah, Niffty. He could always rely on her lack of tact in a pinch. “Splendid, my dear; I will be happy to provide my services!” He patted her head, then grabbed a dish. “In the meantime, let me take this task off your hands – I believe I saw a nest in the basement that could use your specialized attention!” Cackling, the small woman skittered away.

And, right on time: “Uh, what was that about?” Vaggie, still sitting hand-in-hand with her beau, cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Why, we were discussing her menstrual cycle, of course!” Alastor replied cheerfully, reveling in their stunned speechlessness before he continued. “Menstruation is, I'm led to believe, quite taxing on those who suffer through it! And it lasts so very long, when it really doesn’t have to. So I have taken it upon myself to start a…series of mutually-beneficial arrangements, so to speak, in which sinners contact me when they start their cycle, and I take care of their problem,” Alastor finished delicately.

Charlie looked intrigued, despite herself. “And…how do you do that?”

Wordlessly, Alastor extended his tongue to its fullest length, flicking the tip upwards.

He was gratified to see matching appalled-yet-captivated blushes on the ladies in front of him – and what an odd situation to find himself in, that this indication of reluctant arousal would be a positive sign rather than an omen.

Alastor slowly retracted his tongue, meeting each of their eyes in turn, then let the implication hang in the thick silence that followed for several seconds before continuing blithely. “Of course, it’s all for the sake of a good meal on my part – I’ve never been a fan of the typical social implications of cunnilingus. But I do keep my clients coming back every month!” He grinned slyly at a still-blushing Charlie. “And just think of how much more you’d be able to get done around the hotel without going through all that pain for days on end, don’t think I haven’t noticed!” As a pièce de résistance, he allowed himself to catch Vaggie’s suspicious gaze for a brief second before breathing, “Think on it,” without his radio filter in place. She looked shaken by this indication of sincerity – good.

He swept out of the kitchen with a filtered, “Ta, ladies!”, leaving them to reach the decision he knew they would.

It was four days later (two days after Alastor feasted on Niffty’s cycle, his claws digging into her tiny thighs and his tongue unable to even fit all the way before she made it fit) when Vaggie and Charlie approached him, hand in hand, and asked to have a word. Alastor schooled his grin to only look as manic and disconcerting as it usually did – it wouldn’t do to appear overly excited.

As soon as they were alone, Vaggie started with the inevitable yet tiresome questions. Would it really get rid of Charlie's period for the month, yes. Was this some coverup for another deal, no. Did he have malicious intent, far from it; this was, in fact, one of the only cases in which anyone actually wanted to be on the receiving end of his cannibalistic instincts. Would he use this as blackmail – what did she take him for, Vox?

As the fallen exorcist ran out of steam, Charlie spoke up. “So, Alastor. I really appreciate that you have this…outlet, for your, ah, dietary habits! It’s kind of nice that there’s a consensual way to do the…um, cannibalism, thing. And it would be great to have a shorter period…I guess I just…have trouble viewing you, uh, in that way?”

Alastor blinked. “Good, keep having trouble; I have no desire to be viewed ‘in that way’, as you say. As I said before, I am in this for the sake of an excellent meal. Any pleasure on my client’s behalf is incidental, as orgasms help ease the process, but I’d frankly prefer to be left out of it otherwise.”

Another thread of tension eased from Vaggie’s shoulders as she put an arm around Charlie’s waist. “So if we insisted that I also be there…”

Alastor could not believe his luck, allowing his leer to grow infinitesimally wider. “Why, I wouldn’t have it any other way, my dear! Go ahead and keep your paramour occupied while I’m at work; it should only make my task easier!” And make Vaggie more likely to accept it for herself, but that part didn’t need to be said aloud. “Now, Charlie, when did you say your next cycle would start?”

~*~

Charlie sat on the edge of her and Vaggie’s bed, twiddling her thumbs while her partner ran elegant fingers through her blonde hair. Her period had started earlier that day, and with it came the cramps. But this time around, the pain was joined by a flutter of anticipation. She couldn’t tell if it was anxiety, excitement, arousal, or some messed-up combination of the three, but there sure was something twisting her into knots right now. “And you're sure you’re okay with me doing this, Vaggie?” she asked for the thousandth time.

Her ever-patient girlfriend gave her a small smile. “I told you, babe, it’s fine. And,” she sighed, “...okay, how weird is it that I actually trust he’s not gonna try anything other than what he’s here to do? Like, I still don’t trust anything else about him, but I know he’s gonna keep his hands to himself. Or…well, you know.”

“Yeah, I get what you mean!” Charlie laughed, nervousness starting to fade. “And you know I’d be fine if you decided to, uh, become a ‘client’ too, right?”

“Heh, we'll see about that; for now, I just want to make sure you're treated right.” Vaggie gathered Charlie up in her arms, and the two cuddled for a moment.

Their comfortable silence was broken by Alastor’s precise “shave and a haircut” knock. Charlie practically flew to  the door, then smoothed the front of the plain dress she’d chosen for this and let him in.

“Hello, my dears!” he sang in his filtered voice, twirling the red microphone with a flourish and closing the door behind him. He looked…exactly like he always did. Charlie wasn’t sure what she was expecting – the vaguely disturbing image of the Radio Demon in lingerie with a trench coat came briefly to mind – but she didn't expect him to whirl her around in an overhand turn, depositing her neatly to lie back on the edge of her bed (which suddenly had a towel on it, how about that). “Now then, shall we get started?” he smiled, standing between her parted knees.

A pause. Alastor raised his eyebrows expectantly, taking in their shocked expressions. “Do you need more time to properly feel your cramps before you say goodbye to them?”

Charlie and Vaggie exchanged a look. The princess eased herself to a sitting position (still looking very, VERY far up at the man who was usually only about six inches taller than her), and attempted to take control of the situation. “Um, alright! So I was thinking Vaggie could be up here by my head, and, um…do you need anything to cushion your knees, Al?”, she asked, grasping for normalcy with an attempt to be hospitable.

“Ah, no need, sweetheart!” the demon declined, infinitely composed even as he sank to his knees between her legs. And ooooookay, that was a picture she’d never thought to imagine before, what the fuck.

She laid her head in Vaggie's lap as her partner knelt above her on the bed, softly kissing her upside-down, as the sound of soft jazz filled the room. She felt her underthings slide down her legs, leaving her distractingly bare.

A tongue grazed the apex of her thigh, and…oh jeez.

“Omigod waitwaitwaitwait I'm ticklish!!!” Charlie laughed. Alastor poked his head up from between her legs, grin intact and eyebrow raised, and his deadpan expression mixed with the absurdity of their present situation was just too much. Vaggie's upside-down look of fond resignation only made Charlie giggle harder, all her nervous energy bubbling out of her at once. “I just, this whole thing is so crazy! My - my vagina is literally right there , what the fuck is happening right now…”

Alastor let out his signature “hmm” of disapproval, which only sent Charlie into greater peals of laughter. He rolled his eyes. “May I continue?”, he asked, as mildly peeved as he would be if he’d simply been interrupted during a meal. Which, she realized with further amusement, he kind of was . Charlie nodded through her helpless giggles.

Suddenly, his pointed tongue filled her, and her mind went entirely blank. She moaned loudly, and her glazed eyes took in the gorgeous sight of Vaggie’s face above her as the angel lovingly cradled her jawline. The tongue swirled inside her, and she saw stars. Vaggie kissed her soundly, cutting off her moan, and reached into the scooped neckline of her dress to play with her sensitive nipples. She felt spoiled from all sides. The entire world right now consisted of her, Vaggie, and the tongue filling her pussy, pressing oh-so-deliciously against her G spot as a set of large hands pinned her thighs apart.

The first orgasm came with little warning, washing over her in a sudden flood as she whined into Vaggie's mouth. A soft, pleased grunt emanated from between her thighs, reminding her that that was Alastor down there. What the fuck was her life right now.

The tongue kept lapping deep inside through the aftershocks as she came down from her orgasm. As distracting as it was, Charlie took this brief moment of lucidity to prop herself up on her elbows and look down. Her hotelier’s fluffy ears poked up from between her legs, which was still the weirdest of images. She leaned back and whispered in Vaggie's ear, “You're still better, hot stuff!”

Vaggie looked amused, glancing from Charlie to Alastor's ears, which had twitched slightly. “I know that, babe,” she whispered back. “He said it himself, he's just in it for the meal; I'm surprised he even made you come.” This last bit was spoken softly, rather than whispered, and a spike of static sounded sharply through the air before returning to soft jazz.

Charlie looked up at Vaggie, who was… Oh . She was staring down Alastor with an expression Charlie had seen a thousand times before on her - she was throwing down a gauntlet. What that gauntlet was, she wasn’t sure, but damn if it wasn’t thrown. Sneaking a glance down at the demon between her legs, she saw his red eyes narrow in equal challenge at Vaggie. As Alastor snarled and sank in deeper, Charlie briefly thought, I could get used to this .

And that was the last coherent thought she had for a while.

~*~

Alastor was not used to being perceived while engaging in this particular activity. His eye twitched as he stared down the angel across from him, tongue still buried deep within her partner. Her insult to his skills was unconscionable. He may not want either of the ladies in this room to desire him, but they would respect his abilities. He dove deeper with a grunt.

Vaggie leaned down to lick into Charlie's desperately panting mouth, maintaining eye contact with him. He accepted the angel’s unspoken dare, snarling as he thickened his tongue at the base while swirling the pointed tip around Charlie’s cervix. Vaggie’s pupil dilated at the sounds this produced from her lover, and she bared down upon the blonde with desperate kisses, her attention returned to its proper place at last.

His tongue coaxed another orgasm out of the princess, who was as loud as he'd anticipated – though the crisp flavor of her half-seraphim blood more than made up for her wailing. Flicking the opening of her cervix with the tip of his tongue one more time, he prepared his shadow tendrils.  She was ready.

The tendrils dove into her womb with practiced ease, and Charlie’s legs started to tense from the pain. Alastor held them open, careful not to puncture the supple flesh and risk endangering the future of this arrangement. All was going as usual until he heard the rustling of fabric and the sudden muffling of Charlie’s moans, and looked up.

Vaggie was sitting on Charlie’s face, eye closed in bliss, underwear lying to her side.

Fuck .

He couldn’t look away as she rode Charlie’s tongue, grinding herself down with expert grace. What Alastor wouldn’t give for the former exorcist to bleed directly into his mouth like that – what a shame she wasn’t menstruating right now, but of course that blood would be wasted on Charlie’s unrefined palate. She wouldn't appreciate it like he would. Alastor could imagine himself lying in her place, holding Vaggie above him and allowing her clotted golden blood to drip directly into his open mouth, before he would let go and take her weight fully onto his waiting tongue. He had never given such a position of power to any of his clients, but – but perhaps for her blood, he could make an exception. He worked his tongue faster inside as the shadow tendrils worked the lining from Charlie’s womb. He could glimpse her tongue disappearing into Vaggie’s nethers when the angel's short skirt rode up. He felt more than heard his own breath hitch at the sight as Charlie’s blood filled his mouth. He would do anything for this creature before him to sit on his face, to feed him as he let his tongue snake out to meet her. He would worship her.

Vaggie opened her eye, which widened upon realizing how intently he was watching her. Alastor was jolted from his increasingly spiraling thoughts and looked up to meet her shocked gaze. Oh, this did not look good for him. Their mortified eye contact continued for about two seconds before –
“ Fuck – nghhh, oh, OHHH!” Did she just – oh dear.

This was not part of the plan.

As Vaggie came down from her orgasm, Alastor looked away and tidied up the remainder of Charlie's blood with his tongue. By the time he glanced back up, the angel had dismounted her partner and was stroking her hair, avoiding eye contact.

Vaggie cleared her throat. “She is…OUT-out,” she observed awkwardly, still blushing.

“Ah, yes, that happens sometimes,” Alastor said, hoping beyond hope that his face wasn’t similarly flushed. “Rest assured, she is uninjured and will regain consciousness shortly.” He stood and summoned a glass of Charlie’s favorite juice (orange juice with no pulp , bizarre girl) from the kitchen, setting it on the nightstand. She’d certainly need the hydration after all that.

Vaggie eyed his actions thoughtfully from the bed. “So…is this a usual service you provide for your, um, ‘clients’?”

“Only the ones with whom I have any desire to get along,” Alastor replied drily, prompting a reluctant snort from the angel.

“Fair enough, I suppose. Also, I, uh…actually wouldn't be so sure about her waking up soon. When she's this gone after sex, she usually goes right into a solid two-hour nap,” she said, grinning wryly down at her exhausted partner.

“...Ah.”

A silence crept over them as Alastor tried to wrap his head around the improper thoughts that had come over him during those last few moments. He was no stranger to losing his head to cannibalistic bloodlust – that wasn’t the issue. The issue, he thought as he sat and let the silence go on far longer than he should, was that his bloodlust had never caused him to crave…submission. This desire to place himself in a vulnerable position for the sake of sensory pleasure, this reverence, it reminded him too much of the weakness inherent in more traditional lust.

Charlie let out a sigh in her sleep, nuzzling her cheek to Vaggie’s palm and inadvertently reminding Alastor of just how long he had remained a silent, looming presence beside them. He chanced a glimpse at the angel. Her posture was bowed and she appeared entirely focused on her slumbering partner, but her hackles were raised in a way that indicated she was avoiding the subject of their recent joint misstep as much as he was.

He pondered his options. If he left right now, as he was sorely tempted, Vaggie would continue to labor under the mistaken impression that he desired her sexually. Alastor didn’t want to leave her with such a tawdry misconception of himself, especially if it would impact her willingness to accept his services in the future. So he needed to…explain his reaction, though the very thought of willingly “opening up” like that made him want to escape through the nearest window.

But how much explanation would be necessary to convince her to let him feed from her in the future, without getting the wrong idea?

I want you to sit on my face , his mind unhelpfully supplied. No, that would not do.

As he inhaled to reluctantly clarify, Vaggie spared him by speaking first. “I’m, uh, not into you,” she said, clearly wanting to express her genuine emotions about as much as he did. “That…that was because of another thing. Not you.” She shuffled in her seat.

“Well, that's quite a relief!” he replied, surprised at how easily this truth came to his lips. “And I can say the same.”

Vaggie looked unconvinced. “Then…what was that?”

Alastor was tempted to respond “what was what”, but he had already made his choice, so he instead primly stated, “Ah, that. In the interest of laying my proverbial cards on the table: I once had the opportunity to sample a taste of angelic blood, and it was the most exquisite delicacy I've ever encountered.”

Vaggie’s eye widened in realization as the implication set in. “...Oh.”

“Additionally,” Alastor continued, “menstrual blood puts all other blood to shame.” He leaned forward, eyes lidded. “Needless to say, since the recent revelation as to your lineage, I have been quite interested in…enticing you to join my clientele.”

Vaggie narrowed her eye. “So, what, you used Charlie to get to me?”

Finally, he was back in familiar territory: negotiations, rather than confessionals. “Far from it! I am always happy for more clients, and all the better when I know they will not come seeking me out for romantic nonsense. I would be happy to continue servicing Charlie as she needs it, whether you decide you'd like to join her or not.” Alastor spread his hands. “The only reason I’d kept this hobby of mine quiet beforehand was for convenience! And I know Angel Dust in particular would have far too much to say about it.”

Vaggie cringed, “Oof, yeah. So…okay, so this is still just a food thing for you?”

“But of course! Blood is blood is blood, after all, until an angel comes along,” Alastor smiled. “Now, I won’t expect you to make a decision immediately, without first being able to discuss it with your paramour – ”

“I start next week,” Vaggie blurted out, then explained, “Charlie and I, we already discussed it. She’ll be there with me, and you can…you can.”

Alastor's grin widened. “Then I am looking forward to it, my dear.”

The rest of the week passed without incident, with the exception of someone ripping Alastor's arm off during a scuffle. Not his best moment. Fortunately no one bore witness to this humiliation, Vox's drones included, and the perpetrator was slaughtered instantly. He’d reattached his arm quickly enough, but it remained sore as the sinew restored itself over the next few days.

But Alastor was almost grateful for the grueling healing process, as it kept him focused on something other than the revelation that had not stopped plaguing him since he had serviced Charlie.

Alastor had never willingly submitted to anybody, and he had no intention of changing this fact. That being said, he felt his undead heart thump in his chest at the memory of looking up at Vaggie and wanting, on some level, to worship her. These feelings were easy enough to ignore, most of the time. In day-to-day matters, the former Exorcist was just as abrasive a thorn in his side as usual, while Charlie remained her usual bubbly self. He was quite relieved – he had no idea what he would have done if this “servicing more people he knows” gamble had resulted in them growing sweet on him, of all things.

There were only two indications the entire week that anything had taken place between the three of them. The first was when Angel Dust made a comment at the breakfast table about the benefits of long tongues. Charlie went red and avoided Alastor’s smug gaze, while Vaggie choked quite amusingly on her coffee. The second was when Charlie approached him in private, and asked if it was okay with him for her to treat the upcoming appointment as a typical sexual encounter between herself and her partner. Though he wasn't sure what she meant by that, Alastor agreed readily, as it made no difference to him one way or another. Regardless, he eagerly looked forward to their next meeting.

Charlie answered the door wearing black, strappy lingerie, beaming excitedly. Alastor cocked an eyebrow, incredulous. She oh-so-maturely stuck her tongue out at him. “I want to have fun with this!” she said cheerfully, in answer to his unspoken question. “And besides, you said orgasms make things easier for you? I might as well help!” The way she spoke, Alastor half-expected her to whip out a slideshow presentation entitled “Let’s Make My Girlfriend Come”.

He elected not to argue, as amused as he was. “Fair enough!” He allowed himself to be ushered into the room. Vaggie was sitting on a large towel near the edge of the bed, wearing a low-cut nightie and an anticipatory gaze as she looked between the two of them. He stood at the edge of the bed, ready to treat this as he would any other client appointment, despite his own well-hidden excitement. “Now, shall we begin?”

“Actually,” Charlie said, biting her lip, “I was thinking I'd like to get Vaggie prepared for you today, if that's alright?”

Alastor was no stranger to delayed gratification, and he had always appreciated an exquisitely plated dish. Especially those involving premium ingredients. His smile softened. “Very well; go ahead, my dear.”

Charlie grinned, then took a deep breath. A pair of horns sprouted from her hairline, her eyes inverted to red, and Alastor caught the swish of a tail from the corner of his vision. Her eyes took on a mischievous glint as she knelt on the bed over Vaggie, tilting her chin up with the crook of her finger. “Now, pet – are you going to be good for me?” she crooned.

Alastor raised his eyebrows. Well, that certainly answered some questions he'd never had about their dynamic behind closed doors. Where was this confidence when the princess had to do public speaking? Perhaps she needed to be wearing lingerie for this side of her to come through. Regardless, he felt…oddly at ease. Thank goodness Charlie was the one in a position of power here; the thought of Vaggie being consciously dominant while having this…this hold over him, in the form of her blood, it would be unconscionable.

But Charlie having this control was okay. It was right for her to embrace her power, even if it was only over the partner who would do anything she asked regardless. Either way, it was a treat to witness.

With one flickering glance at Alastor, Vaggie looked up at Charlie and answered, “Yes, Mistress.”

“Good girl. And what will you say if you want either of us to stop?”

“Paperclip.” Alastor blinked, but supposed that was as good a word as any.

“ Very good girl.” Charlie snaked her dainty tongue out and licked up the side of her partner’s neck while caressing her breast through the nightie. Vaggie hissed in a breath, biting her lip slightly. Alastor eyed the spot where her teeth indented her lip – if only she would bite down just a little more. But no, that was not the blood he should be focused on tonight.

Charlie reached for a set of silk ties from atop the nightstand and swiftly secured Vaggie’s wrists in front of her, elbows bent in a facsimile of prayer. She shifted her position to kneel on the bed behind the bound angel, whose eyes were already  becoming unfocused in lust. “You’re being such a good girl, pet; will you open those gorgeous legs so Alastor can see your pretty pussy?” She caught the Overlord’s eye with a smirk, reaching for Vaggie's thighs to open her up for his appreciation.

Alastor gulped, eyes riveted to the golden feast before him. He sank to his knees and leaned forward, opening his mouth.

“Not yet,” Charlie chastised him gently. He felt his ears twitch slightly against his will, feeling like he should be more frustrated at having his meal postponed further, but Charlie’s confidence was somehow an engaging enough sight to make up for it. He stayed still, inches from his goal, and looked warily up at the princess. Now what?

Her face split into a wide grin, her red eyes crinkling in delight. “Very good!” Alastor felt his tail attempt to wag within the confines of his pants for some reason, the treacherous thing.

Charlie's tail snaked around Vaggie's right leg, leaving her hand free to reach down into the delectable mess between the angel's legs. Vaggie squirmed in her restraints, letting out a whine as Charlie began to circle her fingers around her clitoris. “Oh, you like that, pet?” the princess crooned in her lover's ear. “You like being admired? Look at the way he's looking at your pretty pussy, he just can't wait to shove that nice long tongue inside you, can he?”

The teasing may have been directed towards Vaggie, who was now panting and writhing in earnest, but Alastor found that with every word his own anticipation grew, his breathing coming out more and more ragged with every swirl of Charlie’s delicate fingers over her beau’s sensitive bud.

After what felt like an eternity to Alastor, Charlie let two of her fingers dip into the ichor between Vaggie's legs. “Have a taste, Al,” she offered with a smile, holding out her fingers. Like father, like daughter; Alastor had never felt more like Eve.

His mouth opened automatically to accept Vaggie's blood like some wretched Communion. The moan that escaped him was muffled only by his lips closing around those two dainty fingers, tongue wrapping around and between them. He felt his eyelids flutter closed as his eyes rolled back. Never had he tasted something this – hah – divine.

Charlie removed her fingers from his mouth, and his lips chased them slightly as a whine escaped him unbidden. His eyes opened to look plaintively at the princess – he felt strangely unmoored with his mouth empty after only a brief taste, and when had he started drooling on the sheets?

Charlie appeared slightly startled by his reaction, whatever it looked like from her perspective. She cocked her head, a considering look on her face. “Do… you want to be a good boy for me, Alastor?”

His ears pinned back at the implication that he could ever be good . Redemption was a pipe dream, after all, his own even moreso. But that wasn't what she was asking, was it? She was asking for…control. Limited control, and not the type that would leave this room. The idea didn't rankle as he'd expected. If she made the decisions in this encounter, then Alastor could explore those unfamiliar cravings from the previous week without submitting directly to Vaggie, who had not earned any position of power over him. In fact, right now Charlie was acting far more like the Princess of Hell should, wasn't she? This was behavior to be encouraged. Just for tonight…he wanted to see what she would do if given this power.

He nodded.

Charlie's smile grew mischievous as she beckoned him closer, her voice going low and intense as her fingers moved up to pull Vaggie's nightie out of the way of one of her breasts, pinching her nipple and eliciting a squeak from the angel. “Wonderful! I know you’ll be a very good boy for me. Now come over here and show me what that tongue can do, love, I want to see just how powerful it is when you push it inside.”

Could it even be considered obeying, when he was already desperate to perform the action commanded of him? Alastor dove forward breathlessly, resting his weight on his elbows and ignoring the pain in his still-recovering shoulder. His eyes closed in bliss as he pressed his lips to Vaggie's dripping cunt, as passionately as any lover. The flavor burst on his tongue, and he lapped eagerly at her folds before driving fully inside, heedless of the groans of pleasure that escaped him.

“You're licking her so well, honey!” he heard from somewhere above him as he lapped up the golden ambrosia. Mm…he was, wasn't he? His ego swelled at the recognition of his skills, especially when he heard the telltale signs of an impending orgasm from the angel under his tongue.

“Look at her when you make her come, dear,” Charlie said above him. He opened the eyes he hadn't recalled shutting to look at Vaggie's flushed face. His sensitive hearing picked up Charlie's whispers in her ear, “You like being on display like this while he’s filling you up, pet? You like being watched while you come undone? Come for me, pet. Come right on that nice thick tongue.”

The angel obeyed, and Alastor absently heard his moans join hers as a gush of clotted golden blood filled his mouth. This could not be more perfect.

As he adjusted his position, his shoulder twinged again, albeit less painfully than before. Alastor was forcibly reminded that this was still, in fact, Hell, and cannibalistic serial killers just weren’t allowed nice things apparently. He huffed slightly into Vaggie’s soft pubic hair, feeling more peeved with his present lot in death than he would have were he not so close to sensory paradise.

Charlie had evidently chosen this moment to be uncomfortably perceptive (or was it another side effect of her lingerie?), and she smiled gently down at him from where she was carding her fingers through a still-shuddering Vaggie’s hair. “You did so well, sweetheart. Do you want anything?”

Want. Alastor wanted, and his frayed composure was the last push he needed to make his true request. He retracted his tongue as Vaggie whimpered, and he tried to remember how to speak. “Charlie…” and oh, his voice was far more ragged than he ever allowed it to be, but no matter.

“Not Charlie right now, love,” she corrected gently. He looked up at her kind red eyes, horns on display and partner tied in submission in front of her, and it took surprisingly little effort to revise, “...Mistress.”

“Good boy,” she beamed, the corners of her demonic eyes crinkling in delight. “Now, what do you need, dear?”

“I…I want…” Alastor faltered. He had thought of nothing but this for the past week, but actually saying the words, giving his desires a tangible form in the world where anything could happen to them, was daunting.

A hand rested gently on the side of his head, where his ear would be if he was still human. He leaned into the surprisingly grounding pressure, and let the words tumble out. “I want her to sit on my face.”

Charlie beamed and scratched the hair at the base of his ear – oh, that felt good . “Very good boy, telling me what you want! Vaggie, pet, would you like to sit on Alastor's face?”

“Please! Yes, Mistress,” Vaggie gasped as Charlie let go of her trembling thighs so she could kneel.

Charlie shifted her attention back to Alastor, whose hands were on his knees as he knelt by the bed, eyes wide in anticipation. “Come,” she said simply, patting the bed beside her. He scrambled to his feet, feeling awkwardly tall for a moment before getting into the bed to join the two ladies. He laid down on the towel, Charlie kneeling above his head. His heart thudded, and if his tail weren’t thoroughly secured under his belt, it would be flicking side to side in anticipation.

Charlie helped her beau kneel over him. As she shifted positions, a drop of blood fell from her nethers onto his cheek, dripping slowly down the side.

The demon felt his face flush, grateful that the angel's body hid his face from view (and even more grateful that it was there to begin with) as he let his tongue snake out to meet her. With gentle pressure to her inner folds, a rivulet of gold flowed down the length of his tongue. He groaned loudly as he reached up to pull her weight onto him, noting absently that his shoulder somehow didn’t twinge from the action.

Alastor didn't know how much time passed after Vaggie dropped fully onto his tongue, her inner walls pulsing around the thick muscle as he coaxed more and more blood from within her with another orgasm. He felt weightless, and he couldn’t control the sounds he was making, from snarls to unrestrained moans as he feasted.

He heard Charlie giggle above him. “Someone's a messy eater, isn't he? Oh, Vaggie, look at him, he’s taking care of you so well!” Vaggie looked just as wrecked as he felt, he noted dreamily as his tongue pumped steadily inside her, coaxing out one more shuddering orgasm in preparation for the main event.

His shoulder no longer in pain, Alastor easily lifted the angel, cupping her muscular buttocks to hold her above his head and basking in the droplets of blood that fell onto his face. His shadowy tendrils dove in, and he briefly felt her thighs on either side of his head twitch before his senses were suddenly overwhelmed by the shower of blood that followed.

Gluttony had always been a sin of his, but this was beyond any bliss he’d ever experienced. He would ordinarily be concerned for the waste, as more and more blood ran down the sides of his face and soaked into the collar of his shirt. Or perhaps for the frankly obscene sounds he was making, between his moans that rivaled Vaggie's in ardor and the wet noises of his tongue lapping up every drop of blood it could find. But right now, he could not bring himself to care. Heaven could frankly get fucked; this was true paradise.

~*~

When the moans beneath her girlfriend eventually faded to ragged panting, Charlie helped Vaggie off of her hotelier, whose disheveled appearance made him look like he'd just been through a hurricane. His face was more gold than gray with her girlfriend’s period, and the dazed expression was one she'd never seen on him before. She grinned down at them both as Vaggie collapsed onto the bed beside him, neither seeming to even notice the other's proximity. “Soooooooooo, how was that?” she asked cheekily.

Vaggie barely had time to send her a shaky thumbs-up before an old-timey announcer voice exclaimed from Alastor's microphone, “HOT DIGGITY DOG!!”

A moment of silence followed this proclamation, then Vaggie snorted. All three looked between each other, then went into peals of laughter, Alastor covering his face with one hand as he cackled.

As their laughter subsided, Charlie crawled onto the bed to join her…two?...subs, shifting to set her partner’s head down on her lap. Vaggie curled up, smiling and nuzzling her thigh as Charlie stroked her side, delighted to feel how relaxed her muscles were. Her girlfriend always carried so much stress (most of it coming ironically from trying to ease Charlie’s own stresses), and it felt so good to take that pressure off of her, even just for a little while.

The princess looked over at the other figure, who was still lying blissed-out exactly where he had been, lanky legs dangling off the side of the bed. Alastor’s eyes were lidded almost shut, and his grin was intact. But even the amount of angelic blood covering him wasn’t enough to conceal his flushed cheeks, and his suit was more rumpled than she’d ever seen it. With the exception of his pants remaining thoroughly buttoned, Alastor had the look of one who’d just received the fucking of a lifetime.

Charlie bit her lip. What should she do for him now? Even if Alastor hadn’t…um, gotten off, from any of this, he DEFINITELY needed some sort of aftercare, and she guessed that asking too many questions or drawing attention to it would just make him leave too soon. And with his temper, who even knew what would happen if the Radio Demon experienced subdrop. Shit.

Okay, so. What did Alastor like? He liked music. Some soft jazz had started up after the “hot diggity dog” incident, so…check. He liked, um, blood? …Check. Very check. He…hm. He usually didn’t like physical affection, but he really seemed to enjoy having the base of his ears scratched earlier.

She hesitantly held her hand out and rested it on the side of his head, about where she’d had it beforehand. He let out a soft, staticky sigh and shifted his cheek to lightly nuzzle her hand, and Charlie had to bite her lip to keep from squealing in delight. Seriously, what gave such a creepy powerful guy the right to look this adorable? Especially while still covered in blood.

She sighed contentedly, scratching gently at the base of Alastor's ears while she continued petting Vaggie along her side. As surprised as she was by Alastor's ready submission, her heart felt full to bursting all the same as she listened to him humming absently along with the music.

Charlie has always loved easily, freely - and she's never shied away from telling her friends just how much they mean to her. But Alastor’s always been prickly enough that she knew too many displays of affection would only scare him off. It never felt right, though, not being able to love him as unapologetically as she did everyone else. But here…”dear” she called him. “Love”, “honey”, “sweetheart”, and he had practically purred every time. She's finally found a way to love him in a way he would receive, and she hoped to Earth and back that he would want to keep this dynamic going with the two of them.

The next time she looked from Vaggie's now-sleeping face to Alastor's, the demon was blinking slowly up at her, still coming back to himself. She gave him a soft smile. “How're you feeling, Al?”

“Mmmnnhhh…” he responded eloquently, stretching his arms up and arching his back. “Tail hurts.”

Charlie was barely able to bite back an excited YOU HAVE A TAIL!? , and was grateful he hadn't seen the way her eyes bugged out. Instead, she opted for a mild, “Oh, why does your tail hurt?”

“Blasted thing kept trying to move, pants wouldn't let it,” he grumbled, headbutting her hand to shift her massage to his other ear.

She grinned, allowing just a hint of teasing to come through in her voice as she replied, “Well, then you know what you need to do next time, right?”

“Hm?” Oh, he was putty right now, wasn't he? Adorable.

She leaned over to whisper in his ear. “Next time, you'll just have to leave your tail out of your pants so it can wag whenever you're being a good boy for me.”

In an instant, Alastor’s eyes opened wide, and he looked mortified as he suddenly seemed to realize what he'd been doing. Color dusted his cheeks, and he seemed on the cusp of panicking and disappearing into shadows when Charlie said, “Wait.”

He paused, wary. Charlie suddenly became very conscious of her fingers that remained tangled up in his mussed hair, and she wasn't sure whether it would be more or less distressing for him if she removed her hand now. She settled for stilling her motions as she gathered her thoughts. “I’m sorry for bringing out the Domme voice outside of the scene, I won't ask about your tail again if that's an issue.” He glanced to the side, and she pressed forward, intent on saying everything that needed saying before he left. “I know this probably felt really weird for you, but I want you to know that nothing has to change for us outside of this room. This was just…you finding a new way to enjoy the things you already knew you'd enjoy. And we both liked it, too! So, if you need to take some time alone to figure things out, that's fine, but I know we'd both love to keep this going if you want to.”

Alastor sat up, and she let her hand slip from his head to start carding her fingers through Vaggie's silver hair. “I…had best get cleaned up,” he said, giving no indication that he'd heard her, before he disappeared into shadows.

Vaggie, who had always been a light sleeper, turned her face up to look up at her, a lock of hair clinging sweatily to her forehead as she yawned. “Well, that went…differently, but better than I'd thought. Hope he doesn't decide to throw a whole damn hissy fit about it, that wall's seen enough damage.” Charlie nodded wryly, planting a kiss on her girlfriend's forehead with a smile.

~*~

Angel was dumbfounded. “Alastor’s been doin’ WHAT!?”

On the other side of the bar, Husk thunked his head onto the cool wooden surface, groaning.

Niffty casually sipped her Shirley Temple through a curly straw. Angel had no fucking clue where she’d found a curly straw. “Licking everyone’s pussies!” she repeated. “But only when they’re bleeding. He used to be kinda quiet about it, but since he’s doing it for Charlie and Vaggie, it’s not really much of a secret anymore. He might be up there right now.” Her lips returned to that fucking curly straw, as if they hadn’t just shared the juiciest piece of gossip Angel had heard in decades.

He whirled around and pointed an accusatory finger at Husk. “Did YOU know he was goin’ muff diving on the reg!?”

Husk slowly lifted his head and looked pained as he answered, “Knowing is different from wanting to know. I knew, I’d just been able to ignore it until right now. So, fuck you for that,” he finished resignedly as he reached for a glass to clean.

Angel collapsed onto the bar stool in a haphazard pile of limbs. “So…shit, I’m like the only one in this fuckin’ place he hasn’t had his tongue inside, aren’t I!?” he complained. “Well, dependin’ on what you’ve got goin’ on down there, Huskie,” he corrected, trying to flirt and only succeeding in making a vague circling motion on the bar top.

Husk scoffed. “I’d never allow him anywhere near there even if I had the equipment.”

Angel sighed. “He has officially had more sex with the people in this hotel than I have. Which, like, I don't even necessarily wanna fuck you bozos,” most of them, anyway, “...but I'm the professional here! An’ I can't even try him on for size ‘cause I ain't got the right plumbing for the one sex thing he does!” He put his head in two of his hands, fully aware of how pathetic he sounded.

Niffty stood on her bar stool to pat his head. “I can tell you all about it in detail, if you like!”

“You’d do that? Aw, thanks, Niff,” he replied, genuinely touched.

Husk quickly changed the subject after banning the conversation topic at the bar, but Angel felt better all the same.

~*~

A week after Alastor had left their room in a tizzy, during which he’d made himself relatively scarce around the hotel (his tasks being completed efficiently regardless, and the wall remaining unscathed), Charlie found a note in his jagged handwriting under her pillow.

M.-

I am interested.

-G.B.

She smirked. Oh, this would be fun .