#sick/fatigued Niffty | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hirschkuh-traumvoll · 3 months ago

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-- ★ - 𝙼𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 - ★ --

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚛

the plot is: the preparation for the ritual changes you in the way which terrifies the people around, but what would bring the ritual itself?

part one, part two, part three, part four

words ≈ 11.9. k

warnings: starvation, sleep deprivation, smut, cowgirl riding, blowjob, cum eating, don't know how to say it better but your fucking will be heard by a lot of people including your family (and it seems like a reader is a switch), hint for cannibalism, biting and blood drinking, kinda black magic

ミ˙˚☆˙. ⋆ ☼ ⋆ .˙☆˚˙彡

It was harder than you thought. The trial was becoming more excruciating with each passing hour, protracting your days into decades filled with pain. To your physical sufferings built on stomachache due to your starvation and headache mixed with constant dizziness due to the sleep deprivation was added spiritual weakness. You were torn away from any joy life could bring: food, dreams, care, love — so you could concentrate on your suffering only.

Some advised you to go out, but the irony was that the sunshine fatigued you. The constant sun, its heat and stuffiness made you feel worse with your already enfeebled organism and it darkened your inner life. Dog days filled with nothing but scorching sun burning out the landscape and with empty talks of the residents rolled from the outside right into your essence. Your inner darkness began to blend with blazing inner emptiness. It started in your stomach being hurt with poor portions of raw meat, and it spread higher to your heart. It was aching. And it made you malicious. You didn't have a task to move away from everyone, but that was what was happening naturally. Their talks were nonsense, their advice was nothing, their care was false, because you knew, trying to help you, they just tried to incline you away from Alastor and his influence on you. So everyone seemed irritating. And withdrawing from people you stepped deeper into this night within you, there you had only a company of yourself and some thoughts… But you were not even sure if these thoughts were yours. Could you think in such a dark way? Could these savage images belong to you, or in the end these thoughts belonged to somebody else? Were they cast on you by him or by some sinister power? Or had they been always dwelling in your mind, and now, in your darkest days, when you suffered from frustration, they had emerged? Drowning deeper into the pain you felt bloodlust growing in you, and these images began to lose their ugliness. Was it really bad to dream about gore when you were so sick? People's morals dictated you it was bad, but how could they know for sure? — these fancies soothed your hunger. And you were happy that you had at least one person by your side who understood you.

Now you realized why Alastor ordered Niffty to stay with you. She not only did your work as a landlady (for which you had become unfit on the third day of the trial, being physically weakened), but she was also a kind soul accepting and supporting you. This was better than a burst of the fresh air thrusting into your room when she called on you and besides aired your room. She wasn't a carrier of what you needed, not at all, but her care was soothing on these days, and you never got tired of thanking her after every visit.

Secretly Niffty was even proud of you. She had to keep her eye on you, and it meant she must watch you not to break the fast. But you had incredible willpower, or maybe you just loved Alastor too much. Anyway, she began to respect you for your self-control, for your devotion, for your purposefulness. And if she started her work by watching you with some kind of uncertainty, now, seeing how hard you were trying and nevertheless never giving up, she sympathized with you and tried to make your trial as less burdensome as it was possible.

Opposite to the others.

“Finally that savage has gone.” Father said the next morning after Alastor's leaving. He tried to suppress his smile in vain, and this irritated you most.

“Have you forgotten he told you he’d come back? For me?” You asked challengingly.

“Do you think I will let you go?” He frowned at you. His voice cold and sharp.

You broke into a smile, crooked and unintentional. Your eyes didn't smile, a bitterish curve grimaced only your pale lips.

“Do you think I'll let you order me?”

It was the first devilish smile of yours and by now it was even the smallest, but this grin left an indelible trace in his memory.

Father, seeing your growing weakness, tried to push you on the path of surrendering. He never hesitated to suggest a delicious meal to you and definitely insisted that you had to eat. You knew you had, but you couldn't. It is important to mention you never were sorry for missing another appetizing meal — your goal was greater than satisfaction of basic gluttony (though your purpose to be free and love and to be loved was no less basic). Moreover, as the days were passing by you found your hunger decreasing, or rather it was replaced with another type of hunger — a desire for something more particular, more than for some piece of meat or glass of rye, it was a want to gulp something familiar that you could even foretaste on your tongue and in your nostrils, but you wanted it in quantities. Barely you could say why, but it was so.

Nevertheless, Father persevered. You knew why, but… You preferred him to leave you alone, with your own decision, with the consequences you'd chosen to face yourself. And knowing that you still were seen as a dependent one was too hurtful for you. But any of your melancholic, black emotions turned into red. It was fury which was boiling in you, but, unfortunately, had to be suppressed. And it drove you to tears, hot angry tears, making you blind and so weak. Sometimes you couldn't understand why you even cried. Your nose began to itch, eyelids became heavy, and your whites turned pink — every time you felt it was upcoming you fought, nevertheless your vision blurred, and wet paths ran down your cheeks, making your skin burn and tickling your chin with clinging salt before they smashed against the floor or were wiped away with a sleeve. After such minutes of weakness you stared in the space trying to understand why did it happen, and never finding the answer. Of course you were angry at your father, missing Alastor, exhausted and unsatisfied, but looking into your heart you knew, nothing of this was the reason for your strong sentiments. Suddenly you forgot how to breathe and another wave of groundless sadness washed over you, making the tears run down your face again.

But the farther you were from your past life, the stronger you felt the otherworldly ownership over you. And the tears caused with emotions now were the tears of the ensued purgation. It wasn't a work on only your body which had to be cleansed in a way, but also on your inward life. It was the time for you to let go of old resentments and look for the future. These tears were essential and as you realised that you never tried to hold them back. But the hold of the otherworldly choked you stronger and stronger. It was an annoying whisper in your ear to ‘cry out’, though you couldn't hear anything in fact. Nevertheless, you followed that mute but perceptible instruction. You cried bitterly, cried your soul out, wrung it out with your scream, and with a fall of each tear you felt how much darker you were becoming because of the growing emptiness within, borning from the loss of your humanity consisting in every tear. And then there was the process of pollution. Your pain, the cause of any crying, changed into gloat. Whose affliction brought delight to your soul? Your own. You were transforming and everything that made you anxious in the past now seemed insignificant, because you were not her anymore. What worried her most was her weakness, her helplessness, her dependence, but nothing of this was applicable for you-present and, of course, for you-future. Through your tears you laughed at people who considered you as a weak, laughed at the way their spell of your vulnerability in which you had been believing too was now broken, you laughed them out for they slowly began to realize that you were turning into the puppet mistress. Your sobbing reversed into malicious laughter aching in your chest but being so necessary, and every time you collapsed on your bed exhausted. After every uncontrollable ‘flakery’, as Father called it, your sleep, though it wasn't long, was deep, and after a nap you could even say you were a tad refreshed. But still, the amount of hours spent asleep was terribly not enough to let your body behave as it used to, plus there was physical weakness due to the lack of food. And this all gave birth to some vivid visions you were not prepared to witness. The things you could see in your dreams, if only you would close your eyes, moved into the reality and dwelled behind the corners of the walls or in their shadows. They were not real, only a hallucination of your tired organism, but somehow you felt viscerally that it was better to stay away from them. And at some point you were not sure anymore if the visions were false.

The closer you were to the day of the ritual, the stronger you believed that the veil of the other world was slightly lifted aside for you. But nothing of what you saw, heard or felt frightened you. No, you were not so fearless — your motivation to get the desired swallowed the fear, your need to see Alastor again helped you to follow the instruction no matter what harm it could bring to your body or mind. You felt your soul trembling with the upcoming happiness of freedom, whilst your mind and body lapsed deeper into the sufferings.

“Stop beating a dead horse.” Your father would say.

“Stop ordering me and belittle his meaning to me.” You would answer with a dry voice.

ミ ☼ 彡

It was the night from Thursday to Friday. This was the night you could spend asleep, more precisely, since the moment the moon reaches its highest point and right until dawn. Before that you could rest only for a few hours and only during the daytime. And it was about fifty hours ago. But this night was merciful. And you fell asleep right away as your head touched the pillow.

Silence. Chill. You were softly wheezing in your heavy, desired dream. You were dreamless, too tired with your mind and body to see anything in your sleep. The moon was bright that night, and at its highest point it was glancing in your window, so you became moonlit in your bed. But the moonlight was too bright, you didn't even realize when you had raised your eyelids and had been staring at the opposite wall. You had never seen the moon being so blindingly bright.

Suddenly you heard footsteps in the hall. The creaking of wooden floorboards. Someone was going upstairs. The clinging of the spurs was impossible not to recognize, and the fashion of the steps — light but resolute — you also knew way too well.

But then there was silence.

Your eyelids became so impossibly heavy, you couldn't keep them open even if the moon was pouring its snow white light right onto your bed.

A squeak of the floorboards right behind your door.

But you didn't react, you fell asleep again — too tired, too missed to stay awake. You moved under your blanket when the door was quietly opened.

Quiet footsteps approaching you.

The mattress dipped next to you, and before you could open your eyes in fear, a hand touched your cheek to caress. The warmth of the familiar skin let you sighed in relief and cling to the dream again. You smelled the familiar bitter scent of whiskey and burnt leather blent with the subtle sweetness of blood. The hand was brushing your cheek and slid lower to your shoulder, and then to your side, and then to your hip as you mildly sank into your sleep.

You heard something. A whisper, low and gentle, saying something, and you slightly raised your eyelids. You knew who it was, but the blanket pressed too emphatically on your body to turn on your back and face him. But you didn't have to do this, because he leaned to you himself, tossing your hair from your face and whispering those words one more time for you to hear them. His scent became stronger, igniting the pain of missing inside your chest. You could feel his lips touching the edge of your ear shell as he pressed his torso to your body. You whispered his name and turned your head. He gave a kiss on your cheek, and your arms flung to embrace him, and…

You opened your eyes and found yourself alone. Your shadow on the wall, cast by the light of the moon, was the only silhouette but you yourself.

Right. It wasn't Saturday yet. Not even a night from Friday to Saturday. It was the early, early morning of Friday. You had to live through one or even two more days, and one more night.

ミ ☼ 彡

Someway your hunger was fading. There was still the emptiness within, but the walls of your stomach didn't try to devour itself anymore. And even your physical weakness slowly turned into strength. You felt like a runner getting a second wind, when the finish line was already visible on the road ahead. Or you could describe this feeling as when a person manages to grow themselves wings during a free fall in their dream. It was a came true hope.

But the hardest thing was ahead. You had to forget about sleep until Saturday, until his coming. And although you stopped wishing to eat alive anyone who interrupted you from your work (which was a patient waiting with breaks for short strolls around the inn and small chats with Niffty), and your limbs didn't tremble from starvation anymore, your eyes still wished to be closed and body to be covered with a blanket. You wanted to sleep so much, you caught yourself on a desire to die. How would Alastor react if you would really die, trying to keep through his fast? Would he blame himself or call you weak? Would he be sorry and try to do something to return you? Or would he do something to himself?

But you always cut off such thoughts, before that could corrupt your mind completely. You will not die. Not when you'd made such a long way, not after you had already tasted. Your greed would not let you die, neither from your own hands, nor from sleep deprivation. Tortured and abandoned you would always go further for more, and wouldn't stop until you choke on anything you swallow to make it yours.

Your emotions reflected on your face, actually in your smile. It was a crooked, sick smile dueted with fevering shining eyes. Some said you approximated your demon beloved, but you only laughed at their statements. Alastor smiled to hide his true intentions, you smiled because you couldn't take anymore but you went on. You wandered around the inn with a prideful smile, knowing you didn't upset Alastor, and soon you would forget about hunger forever, soon your dreams wouldn't be only dreams, they would come true.

Everyone in the inn could feel the change in you. It wasn't just your look, though your appearance had changed indeed, but they could even feel it. In the way you walked, in the way you cast your look, in the way you waved your hand or moved your lips while talking.

You had changed. And this metamorphosis aroused fear in the residents. Despite your haggard appearance, pale skin, and dark circles under your eyes, you held your head high, as if on the top of it you had a crown to show off. And the gleam in your hungry eyes often made guests choke on their food. And the smile breaking through your lips as a crack on dry ground made the men freeze by the advice of their primal instinct. You were no longer a woman capable only of reading romances and sweeping the floor, no. There was some kind of a supernatural grace in you, making men believe you were no less but the one blessed by an ancient goddess, or a goddess herself. Those who were more pious said you were becoming infernal, befitting your sinful lover. But no matter what they told, everybody shook with fear as you entered the room.

The one who didn't fear but hated was Mr. Vide. Placing the empty glass with a loud tap on the table, he said,

“What you're gonna do is a crime.”

“Then let it be a crime.” Though your voice was deadly calm, the words themselves hitted Father as a fist blow.

“Can't you see?! It's a crime not only against the law, it's a crime against the moral, against your soul!”

“What do you know about my soul?” Your voice clicked like glass, but despite your nerve you didn't want to share any of your feelings with him. What was the point? He would not understand, he never did, and he would only laugh you out. But he must accept the fact that you were no longer his. Could he understand at least this?

“Don't you dare to say what is better for me, you don't know what I need. Crime? Well, let it be a crime if it helps me to leave and be free.”

Your eyes fixed to his, and he could see as if your essence was turning stone. He hated how arrogant you'd become. As though you were the only human in the world, and he, just as other people around, a mere worm at your feet. But something snapped in his mind as you let these words out. Free. Maybe this could be a weapon to keep you here, but the next words of you aroused the previous anger in him,

“Alastor's the only one who sees me, who wants to-”

“Fool!” He raised up from his seat, but you didn't move. You said such disrespectful things so easily, but shouldn't a daughter be a little bit sorry for such words? At least for herself? But your look was as cold as your voice. Evidently, if you ever considered him as a loss, you'd put up with this long ago. Not like him. He never thought of losing you and he bit down his lower lip to hide its trembling. And even noticing this, your look remained hard. He knew he was losing you, and it drove him mad.

“Making a deal with him you only bound yourself forever! You'll become even more of a prisoner than now!”

“What did you just say?”

The look of guilt in his eyes made you certain that you didn't misheard. He indeed said that and regretted it. You could say it by the way he tried to hide his head in his shrugged shoulders in fidget.

‘I mean that- I mean that it's how you feel.” He stammered. He only meant your feelings, not the real situation. “Not how the matters really are-”

“So you understand how I feel, don't you?”

He didn't mean how the matters really are, did he?

“And… you don't mind?”

He didn't say anything. Suddenly loathing rose within you and you turned away. Even the view of that man was unbearable for you. Your own blood froze from the words you let out, but it was too late to hold back, even if you'd ever regretted them,

“Better pray I'll commit crime only against myself and not against people I know.”

The sound of your leaving steps echoed in Father's head even after you’d left the room. He remained in his armchair, staring at the fire. He didn't mean how the matters really are, did he? But the longer he kept his eyes fixed to the flame, the stronger he realised that, perhaps, your feelings were not groundless. But his heart didn't ache because of it.

All his pain came from one dot which was growing with the increase of your cold and was eating him from inside. He knew only one thing gnawing at his brain — if you go with Alastor, you will never come back. Nothing made Father more furious than this.

ミ ☼ 彡

You were sitting at the window, resting your head on your palm and peering your gaze into the horizon. The moon hid behind the thick ribbons of clouds coloured by the shadows of the night into the dark-grey, smoky hue, and the sky seemed the endlessly deep black ocean, and the desert was its dead sandy floor with crooked cactuses instead of the corals. Only now and then a star winked at you from the black clouds as the sun from under the water surface, and then you leaned closer to the glass, hoping to see the moon emerging, too, and shining over the ocean floor for you to see the long-awaited silhouettes. But the clouds covered the sky again, not giving a chance for the silver light to come out.

Although the window was closed, the cold of the desert night blew at you, but you didn't think of leaving your post and throwing a blanket over your shoulders, even though the hairs on your arms stood on end. You wanted to see them coming, and you knew they would come tonight. Bless a candle on a table next to you, which warmed the air around, though you didn't even care for this.

A sound was heard from downstairs — you were not the only one sitting up late tonight. One of the new guests, Anthony, had birthday and, being a famous character of different gift postcards, which everyone could buy at the kiosk at a railway station or at the counter in a store, just ask a salesperson secretly and with a little blush on your cheeks, he couldn't miss an opportunity to treat everyone in the house. Your father believed, that the young man wanted to attract attention to himself and bring new fans maybe (but he didn't oppose this, after all Anthony paid very well), but you considered, that behind his blue eyes with a barely visible golden gleamer of owning (you recognized it due to Husker and Niffty having the same oddity in their eyes) there was sadness, which could be drowned only with others’ joy the cause of which was him, and with liquor. At least it was the only way that he had found.

It seemed the sounds of music echoed, if only drunk strumming of a guitar could be called that. The noise changed into moving. The dancing downstairs shook the floor of your bedroom, which was right above the bar. The candle's flame, more susceptible to the mood of everything that was happening around, began to oscillate. It was the third candle by now and it burnt down for a half. Its small bright flame reflected in your eyes as a feverish spark.

The joyful, at times hysterical, screams and loud steps below barely grazed your hearing. All your senses were concentrated on the horizon, and you moved the candle aside so its illuminating power wouldn't disturb you from peering into the darkness. And suddenly your eyes widened. You didn't even understand what had happened, but your heart missed a beat and you gazed further. Only an odd slithering of the shadows on the black sand. But why then was your heart beating so painfully like everytime when Alastor cast his eye at you? Did your heart see more acutely than your eyes?

Indeed, after a second of observing the black ink expanse you discerned red.

You harshly breathed in as if suffocatingly, your heart seemed to stop and limbs became weak, it was like in the nightmares in which you were about to die, but what was making you like that now was happiness. You took to your heels downstairs.

You rushed past the celebratings as a storm, flung the doors open and jumped out in the night. Alastor had just taken off his hat, bringing it to his chest as if in disbelief of the apparition of you. You didn't hesitate, you rushed to him, and he jumped off from the saddle, catching you right away and swirling you in his arms.

The residents came out of the inn. Your mad haste aroused curiosity in both who knew you and who had just settled. Father came out first, and was watching the scene with crossed arms on his chest.

Alastor put you on the ground, and you brought him to you, smashing your dry lips on his. It was a different kiss from the one you'd shared before. You pressed yourself to him, as if your lips were chain links which should never be parted; his embrace was a firm lock around your body. You inhaled his scent, which had become stronger from the long journey, the same scent as the one in your dream, the same as he had always had — very masculine smell and slightly sweet as damp autumn leaves.

His lips left you but remained close. His eyes roamed over your face: you’d become drawn in the face, your skin was pale and you had dark eye bags, lips were dry and bitten to the blood. These all were visible traces of the closeness of the ritual.

“You are so beautiful, Cher.” Alastor said, looking loving at you.

You rose on your toes to give him another kiss, his arms closed around your waist, and as he parted from you he asked with a boyish smirk,

“Wanna see a trick?”

You arched your eyebrow at him, but before the gasp of the people behind was heard by you, Alastor's embrace had turned into a tight grip bringing you even closer, and right away everything blurred away and sank into deep blackness; you felt dizzy and only his hands propped you up. The sensation was close to the one you had when you avoided sleep but gave in to somnolence eventually — head dizzy and heavy, eyes now closed and then opened wide, the world swirled around you, and your whole body felt like a burden. It was a trip through the shadows, a trip Alastor used to, and with which he always shortened the distance to appear next to you so soon. And now, pressing you to his chest, he was carrying you through this blackness right into your bedroom.

You found yourself at your bedside, the single candle was still the only source of light, illuminating the room warmly and mysteriously. Alastor's arms were tight around you as right away his lips came down at your neck in an almost painful love bite, or perhaps, a real bite. You moaned out, but instead of trying to escape from his jaws you shifted on your toes and bent your neck, giving him more room for passionate devouring. Where his teeth grazed your skin appeared his lips to give a tender kiss on your ruined flesh. You buried your palms in his hair, throwing his hat somewhere aside, whilst his hands roamed all over your curves, gripping on your butt and pressing your thighs close to him, making you feel with your abdomen his hardness. He let go of the bruised hickey, peppering near your ear, kissing down your chin, and moving higher to your cheeks, but the moment he wanted to catch your lips, you began to descend. Your arms tenderly glided down his shoulders, chest, hips until you appeared knelt in front of him. With widened eyes Alastor wanted to take a step back, but you firmly held onto his belt, making him stay where you wanted him to. As if putting an end to his hesitations you pressed your chin to his bulge, giving him a fogged with lust look from under your eyelashes,

“Didn't I tell you how hungry I was?” You slightly tilted your head down, caressing the strained clothed place with your cheek, and looked up again to see him biting his lower lip. He clenched his fists as well. “And do you know how starved I am now?”

Your fingers found the highest button of his jeans and you slowly undid it, attentively watching his face. Oh, how handsome he was from this angle. But what made him most attractive was this little glimpse of guilt in his eyes, as if he was sorry for either making you starve, or enjoying your kneeling before him.

He indeed was uneasy. To take you was one thing, to let you dominate was something different, but to let you grovel… It was disturbing, even embarrassing, because he always believed that the woman must be treated first, her desire was a priority, but he would be a liar to say his heart didn’t beat faster at the sight of you kneeling at his feet. But was it even groveling? There was the same dark sparkle in your ogle as at the first night you'd come to him, and he felt his knees going weak at that display. His cock ached so badly, Alastor could already imagine these pretty lips of you around his heavy shaft, and, oh dear, how hard it was making him.

Your fingers moved to the deer imaged buckle of his black chaps, you teased him by tapping against the metal and unfastened it when Alastor pronounced your name so desperately. Then you undid the other buttons, pulled down his clothes and still didn't take your eyes from his face even when his hard cock slapped against your cheek. His scent, rich and musky, just as you imagined it, enveloped you, made you swallow and lick your lips. You brought your look to his length and couldn't suppress a sigh of excitement and surprise — after all, it was the first time you saw him, even if it was semi-darkness now. He had a beautiful, slightly curved up cock and it was heavy, a thick vein ran along his organ, a tip was pinkish with a little pearl of precum on it, and you slowly, even lazily, pressed your lips to the tip in a tender but firm kiss. You kept your lips on it for a while and eyes locked to his, and then rolled out your tongue, drawing a circle around him and catching the tip between your lips again. Incredible, how leisurely you could be with the hunger, both for flesh and… flesh, was burning in you. But a meal would be tastier if you heat it up gradually, wouldn't it?

Your tongue drew leisure circles around the head, slightly sucking in his tender flesh and every droplet ejected. Gradually you began to move forward, taking him in bit by bit; as you reached the middle you propped your palms against his hips to move back, keeping your lips tightly around his shaft and to dip onto him again, letting his shaft slide deeply against your tongue. From lust your pupils dilated and eyelids felt heavy, so you closed your eyes, leisurely taking him in again.

Alastor's breath was uneven as he watched you, his cock twitched between your tongue and palate, and he could barely ignore the desire to push forward and make you choke on him. You hollowed your cheeks, sucking him in, and how well you did it — firmly and steady, always working with your tongue, and you never forgot to let Alastor know how you were enjoying it too by letting out quiet moans and rubbing your thighs.

He was big. The tip of his cock touched the back of your throat and it could slide further, because the rest of him was still not even inside your mouth. Your jaws started to ache for you never let go of him but you never stopped, you knew what you wanted to do to him. You began to accelerate your rhythm, swallowing more of him with each inclination of your head, he, as well, began to scarcely thrust forward, attuning to your pace. With a moan he called your name, bending down a little bit, putting his fingertips on your cheeks, but as you were moving, bouncing your head on his cock, the feather-like touch of his fingers turned into the dangerous caress of his sharp claws, and it sent you shivers. You moaned with his dick gliding deeper into your throat, now rocking your whole body, gorging on him, driven with the greed and lust aroused from your hungry nights. Saliva pushed out by his cock dripped down your chin and on the floor between your legs, but you went on taking him deeply, though the tears began to form in your eyes, but no matter how violently you worked with him, you craved more. Alastor never broke eye contact, greedily devouring your display with his ogle, and finally your eyes were lit up with the real glimmer, not just a barely visible shining from behind your scleras, but a deep crimson light pouring out from your irises. So hellishly beautiful.

Alastor abruptly took his hands away, afraid to hurt you with his claws, as he felt the tension in his abdomen and the growing desire to just pin your face to his body when he would come, because he knew he was close. But as if you read his thoughts you slowed down, taking a three more deep sucks whilst bowing your head up and down his shaft, and as the first rope of his semen sprinkled your tongue, you pressed yourself closely to him, letting everything he had to fill your mouth. Your tongue caressed the underside of his cock back and forward, pressing it to your palate, while his member with pulsation kept on splashing the seed flowing down your throat.

You retracted, a long white thread of cum connected your lips with his tip, even more was in your mouth, spilling over your parted lips and dripping down your chin. Suddenly Alastor grabbed you by your jaw, harshly tilting your head back, and crushed his lips on yours, smearing his cum over your chins and lips and eating it right from your mouth. You brought him closer to you, embracing him by his neck, making him bent lower to you. His knees pressed to your shoulders, palms firmly held your head in a painful for you and comfortable for him angel, which let him devour you as long as he wanted to. The salty fluid wrapped every wall in your orals as your tongues entwined in his mouth filled with cum he collected from you. It sent you to the cloud nine to hear his satisfied growl, to feel his member being hard again as it brushed against your neck, spreading his scent over you.

“See? Why I am so hungry for you. You're so fucking palatable.” You murmured among the kisses, running your tongue along his lower lip and then biting into it.

Alastor smirked darkly and lovingly as you let go of him, and the view, with his own cum all over his mouth, which glistened as a dull pearl in the dim candlelight, this view made you realize how soaked you were by now.

“You were so good for me, so fabulous, Dear.” He exhaled.

He leisurely brushed your cheek with his fingertips whilst peppering your neck stained with his fluid, and you began to slowly rise on your feet, leaning to him due to your trembling knees bruised with the hard floor. Alastor gently propped you up by your wrist and then hips, but when your legs gave away he immediately took you bride-like and headed for your bed.

“Mmm. I don't think it suits us, my dear” He said stopping in front of the bed. A snap of his fingers, and your single bed turned into a large king-size bed occupying a good few of your room.

Alastor lay you down, placing his palms on either side of your head and already wanted to set his leg near your hip, when suddenly you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him to you and harshly turning over.

Alastor surprisingly looked at you above him as your hips pressed to his pelvis with a slight roll forward, and your hands caught his wrists to pin them to the mattress. Watching your movements, his chest rose highly with each deep uneven breath he took. He swallowed and barred his black gums in a crooked grin as you leaned down to him, pressing harder on his erection. You rubbed your clothed cunt against him, feeling him becoming harder under you, and you whispered against his neck,

“You had a lot of fun riding me last time, didn't you? Huh, that’s my turn now, Sugar.”

Oh, you even used the pet name he had given you, what a naughty girl you were.

Alastor tried to move, but you pressed down on him almost painfully. Despite the fact your movements were hard, the plea in your look was pitifully soft.

“Please, Alastor, let me. I want this so much.”

“Anything for you, Cher.” He answered right away in a husky voice.

The way your eyes lit up with joy worthed indeed anything.

With a smile you slightly rose up to take off your soaked underwear and threw it aside, Alastor watched the process attentively and even followed his eyes the clothes falling on the floor. When he looked at you again, you were already holding his member in one palm and the edge of your long skirt in another one and was trying to rise up higher to make him glide into you.

“Let me help you a lil’ bit, Sugar.” Alastor said, placing his hands on your barred hips to steady you.

“Oh,” You couldn't stand anyway and propped yourself with your hand against his chest. His cock was still pulsing in your fingers in the other palm when you stared into each other's eyes. You both hypnotized one another for a while with lust and love entwined in your gazes. Alastor could feel your heat above him and already smelt your arousal, so saccharine and addictive; he pushed your hips down and exhaled as your pussy touched him, and his cock settled between your folds; your fingertips were still on him, slightly caressing the vein up and down, just enough to send electric shivers up to the crown of his head. Your fingers slipped lower to his base as you were slowly sitting down on him, and one by one they released his organ as it was completely buried in you.

“Mmm…” You moaned, throwing your head back and slightly adjusting your position with a little gyrate of your hips, which caused a quiet groan from Alastor and digging of his claws into you. And then you even leaned back, so his cock glided deeper, and you let out a loud moan. How good it was to feel him in you again, when he was occupying every inch inside your belly, warming you up, making you whole.

Your hands found his palms on your hips and you took them off, drawing them up to your breast. Alastor licked his lips as his palms were planted by yours to the soft flesh hiding under the thin fabric. You slowly, very slowly, began to move your pelvis back and forward in the same motion as when you were on a ride, while his palms were squeezing your breasts. His fingertips teased your hard nipples through your nightgown, his cock gently touched the sweet spot within you.

“Ah, Alastor…” You moaned his name when he gave a little pinch on your nipples, and then with a single harsh movement Alastor ripped your dress apart, and your breasts dangled out for him to feast his eyes on. God, how beautiful you were, as if made of velvet both to the touch and to the sight, and when the dim warm light gave a supernatural sheen to your skin.

His hands squeezed your breasts by turn or both together, he brought them up, watching how pliable was your skin, or cupped them, revealing in your softness, or he brought your breasts close to each other, so your erected nipples looked right at him, and his thumbs leisurely encircled them, making you moan his name again. You were so tender and gentle and with that you moved more and more bravely. You rocked your hips side to side and every turn of your pelvis made his cock hit the right spot in you. You slowly lift yourself up till the half of his shaft left in you, and then you easily let the rest slide back into you. Then you repeated. You didn't hide any of your moans every time sticking yourself on him, the creak of the mattress joined to the rhythm of your motion, making the salacious melody even more scandalous. Alastor’s hands squeezed your waist tighter as if signaling you to stop, but you shook your head with a pleading look, biting your lower lip as you felt the upcoming release.

You rose higher, so only his tip was still in you and froze in this pose with your back beautifully curved, and with one hand resting on his chest to prop yourself up and your other hand on his cock beneath you, squeezing him carefully.

“Cher…” Alastor whispered but couldn’t suppress his moan as you wrapped your fingers around him in a higher grip. “Ahh! Ch-cher, you'd better be quieter.”

“It's not me who's whimpering now.” You answered and lowered your hand to catch his balls, and Alastor emitted another short moan as you seized him, and he felt how you clenched around him at his sound.

You liked the way he was now: angry with his own pleasure, but helplessly giving in to you for more. He frowned and bit his lower lip to silent himself, his hands tensed, they almost trembled, as he held you by your rib cage, though he was still playing with your nipples, but not with his fingers — with his claws. He obviously gave you a warning not to forget yourself in playing. But was that playing?

You let go of his balls and ran your finger up to your clitoris. You slightly pushed yourself down, letting him shove in you a tad as you drew slack circles on your sensitive organ. You felt the fire starting to burn on your toes and the heat spreading up to your thighs, becoming stronger with each careful motion of your middle finger. Alastor watched you and grew impatient, he tried to sink you down onto him, but you rose again, controlling the extent of his penetration, and start massaging your clit up and down,

“No, no, Alastor. Like that, like tha-aht.” You were becoming more and more wet, and there appeared this lewd squelching sound. Your deep sight made Alastor's cock twitch, and he just slightly moved his hips, trying to rub at least the tip between your tight swollen walls. But you gyrated your hips, causing him to moan.

“You're so good, Alastor, look what you're doing to me.” You said, sliding your middle finger down his length and up again to your clit, making another circle with a moan, and spreading your juice down him again with a praise.

Alastor was at edge, he threw his head back not taking his eyes off you. Your cunt, with a part of him sticking into you, glistened with your fluid which slowly ran down his shaft and was spread with your tiny finger, teasingly running up and down, up and down his cock. Your cheeks were bright red, eyebrows knit in a plea, though you were the one in control and you were the one keeping you both from high. And you were so magnificent.

“Oh, fuck!” You quickly licked your moistened finger, “I fuckin’ want you so much.”

You harshly pushed yourself down and landed on him with a loud smack. The sudden movement made you both moan out so loudly from pleasure and pain that it might had been heard downstairs. Before Alastor could chide you, you began to hop on him, and this time to the sound of your loud moaning and mattress creak joined the slapping sound of skin against skin and the sound of bed headboard hitting the wall. Oh, you were absolutely well heard from any part of the house.

You’d chosen the right position: with every bound down his cock easily outstretched you and hit deeply in, making you scream, and your own lecherous sounds aroused you more. It didn't take you long to reach your high and you came on his cock, settling yourself on his cock. Your body spasmodically quivered and waved in aftershock, you rolled your eyes back and kept gyrating your hips with his cock in you being blanketed with your cum. But your own orgasm didn't want to pass. You moaned softly, keeping bouncing on Alastor's hips, while he was holding you firmly by your waist,

“C'mon, Sugar, give me all of this, all of you, like that, yes.” He encouraged, though he himself desperately needed to come, and your every spasm around him, your every sick moan made it harder for him to restrain himself. But he wanted to give you a little lesson of misbehaving with him .

And then you collapsed on his chest, exhausted and laughing with pure joy. Your breast was soft and flush against his chest. Alastor wrapped his arms around you, pressing you closer, depriving you an opportunity to escape. How good it was that he was still throbbing in you.

“Mmm… I missed you so much…” You murmured and gave a kiss to his collarbone. Then you felt how he lowered his one hand from your back to your buttocks and gave you a squeeze. “Ah! Alastor, what ya doing?”

“Just entertaining myself, my love.” He whispered into your ear and slapped you. A gasp escaped you and grew in a loud moan as he immediately began to fuck up into you. His both hands firmly gripped your bottom, rising and sinking you on his cock in a mad rhythm he chose. His hips loudly slapped against your skin, making a perfect duet with your scream. You began to tremble in the upcoming orgasm, and your eyes completely rolled back as your jaw fell open in an uneven, long moan as his cock bruised your overstimulated cunt, whilst his firm hand continued to cascade slaps on your ass, and every time yelp louder.

“Who's whimpering now, Love?” He laughed and felt you squeezing him again, and he harshly turned around still holding you in his embrace but now appearing on top of you. You looked at him with half fear, half excitement, but not a word escaped you as he grabbed your leg, placed it on his shoulder and lunged into you, pressing his thumb on your clit. You immediately came with a loud scream, and he fucked your through your orgasm. Your legs trembled around his body, hands slapped his back, whilst he measuredly continued thrusting into you. He felt you becoming weak under him, your hands fell limply around his neck as he slowly thrusted in, your deep exhale tickled his neck and he heard a quiet plea to stop.

“Not now, cher…” He whispered, giving you a kiss on forehead, and hiding his face in the crook of your neck as he came. “We cannot stop now, can we?”

“N-no…” You moaned and tried to move, but he himself continued thrusting, and you felt his cock pulsing surrounded by your tightening walls.

ミ ☼ 彡

“She's a bad girl.” Said Niffty narrowing her only eye at the ceiling.

For several minutes the shamelessly loud moans were being heard from your bedroom, accompanied with the bed creak of such force that it seemed your… activity was aimed to collapse the ceiling down. At times the man’s groans followed your screams, and then some residents understood they had had enough and left the inn to cool themself on the fresh night air (but barely could they escape too much, for your window, as it turned out, wasn't closed), or just brought they hands to their ears, but the rhythmical rocking of the chandelier above gave away not only the great pleasure of your act but also the power of it, and no wonder the majority of customers preferred not to leave their seats at the tables, too ashamed with the reaction you two aroused in them. Firstly the musicians tried to outvoice you with the sound of their guitars and their own voices, but soon they realised it was fruitless. You and Alastor became only more ravenous with every passing minute, neither disturbed with the residents’ celebration nor with emotions you awoke in them. The guitar and songs accompanying your sinful song only reminded of the madness of Sodom and Gomorrah, so the musicians dropped their instruments. Moreover it seemed that Anthony, the hero of the occasion, was enjoying the situation.

“Heh, they know how to celebrate a party!” Exclaimed he, the only one but Niffty who wasn't embarrassed with what was making the candle wax from the chandelier splash all over the bar floor.

Suddenly for a moment everything fell silent, but only for a new salacious moan to echo loudly through the house.

“Such a bad girl.” Giggled Niffty.

“What a shame…” Sighed Husker, lowering his hat to cover his eyes.

He wanted to close his eyes every time he saw that smiling asshole kissing you, wanted from the moment he saw you two in one saddle. Then he for some reason believed that Alastor was only fooling you and slightly relaxed, but the recent journey to the end of the desert (which was longer than it seemed for you) showed him that Alastor's feelings were… sincere. Impossible to believe, but it was true. Although it didn't negate the fact that Husker was still uncomfortable with any demonstration of solicitude from his boss. It simply seemed unnatural to him and so it was detestable. And now Husker wished he could leave. He would reach the edge of this damned desert again, anything not to hear this terrible outrage. But he couldn't. Husker couldn't leave the owner of his soul unless he asked him. And Alastor never utter a word of Husker leaving the inn while he was inside, moreover, on the way back to the inn Alastor ordered him that Husker would not let anyone get close to you until the ritual performed, and with present situation it also meant that Husker was some kind of a guard now for your outrageous act.

Husk placed another emptied glass on the table and pulled his stetson even lower as the noise in the upstairs was becoming louder. How could he even end up in such a situation? It was not enough that he used to justify Alastor every time that prick had got caught, and not enough he was serving him now, tonight he had cover his back so nobody would disturb him from fucking a gal. If only he tried to do it secretly! Husk had no doubt you two had already had something, but why tonight it had to be so shamelessly on show?

Suddenly the doors of the house swung open and two young women entered and froze immediately. They perplexedly looked around until slowly the cause of noise was realized with them, and as the knowledge became clearer and clearer the wider opened their eyes.

Husker was too concentrated on ignoring the noise to pay attention to the upcoming footsteps and following a low female voice, but feeling a gaze peering into him he lifted his head.

He saw a young, tanned woman in front of him with thick black hair pulled back in a high ponytail adorned with a purple ribbon. She had a thin eagle nose, thin dry lips and prominent chin telling about her steadiness and strong character. No less strength shone in her single dark brown eye — the other one was covered with a black embroidered patch. She was standing in front of Husker with her gloved fists put on her round hips, then she moved one leg forward and put her hand on a gun in the holster. She stood as if the inn belonged to her, not as if she'd just asked what place it was.

A tall lady standing next to her looked like her exact antithesis with her long blonde hair cascading on her straight shoulders in beautiful waves, with her red lips curved in a shy smile, with her elegant though slightly nervous movements of slim hands as she was looking around, and with her rosy cheeks from birth becoming even brighter with every salacious sound sounding from the upstairs.

“Is it a hotel or a brothel?” The one-eyed woman repeated sarcastically.

“A hole.” Husker grumbled in the same unfriendly way as the guest.

“It's a very swanky place, Miss, how can we help you?” Said Niffty with benevolence dripping with poison, just as a little mistress of the inn who never was glad to meet new visitors who could only spread dirt all round but who had to receive them for money.

The sound of bed creaking became louder. Anthony looked up and then at the new wanderers. He arched his eyebrow, saying with a dirty smirk,

“Wanna stay, huh?”

“Absolutely not.” Said the tanned girl, grabbing her friend by the hand. They made a couple of steps back to the door, but then your voice screamed out Alastor's name, and the tall girl shrugged and made a face as though something pinched her.

“Ooh… Did I just hear the name?” She asked cautiously and looked at Husk.

“I have no idea what you mean.” He answered, lowering his head again.

“We're going.” The tanned girl said, putting her arm on the blonde’s shoulder.

“Vaggie, waaaait! What does it matter what other residents do?!” The young lady protested and slipped away from her attendant's hand. “I mean it does matter, but… It is not the murdering scene like in the previous hotel, just an act of… Love. Mad one, but love.”

“Oh, shut up.” Grumbled Husk rolling his eyes.

“Uh, c’mon, Whiskers,” Anthony feigningly pouted, “Red Freak’s absolutely crazy ‘bout her. I can hear that.”

Anthony’s half-joke half-statement was followed with Alastor calling your name and moaning of you both. Proud of himself Anthony waved his eyebrows at Husker and the new visitors.

“Do you really wanna stay in this slaughterhouse?” The short girl asked in a tensed voice.

“I can't go anymore, Vaggie, I'm tired to death!” Said the blonde.

“Not like you can escape death here.” Husk mentioned, but was unheard.

“Just one night, Honey! Please!” The blonde slightly bent in her knees and made a pleading look — just a cute puppy, she only lacked a tail.

Hesitatingly the girl named Vaggie agreed.

“But only one night! I have no desire to stay longer in thi-!”

“Fine-fine-fine! Thank you!” The blonde turned to Husker on her tiptoes, “Sooo… Can we stay? Will you give us the keys? Should we write down our names somewhere? I'm Charlotte, by the way, and this is Vagatha, my… Guardian.”

“I'm not the fucking owner.” Growled Husker casting such an angry look at the girl that she stepped aside as if being burnt.

“Oh, sorry, I thought… Well, anyways, who's then..?”

Gulping his whiskey, Husk pointed at the ceiling, and as if confirming his gesture there was a loud “yes!” from the second floor.

“Well, ha-ha…” Charlotte laughed forcefully, “A very unique way of running a business, right?”

“It must be.” Grinned Anthony.

“And we're gonna stay here…” Groaned Vaggie hiding her face in her palms.

Watching them Husker thought, why did he even care? It wasn't him who was shaming himself and his beloved, in fact it was his boss… whom he despised in a way… So, wouldn't it be better for Husker to just enjoy the show? Entertain himself as his boss liked to speak. Now everyone was embarrassed, nobody could hide their shame or, that was worse to Husker’s thought, their arousal, and of course those who noticed couldn't hide a judging look in their eyes, but they had to turn away quickly until their own foggy eyes would give away their real thoughts. One way or another, everybody hated how and what you and Alastor made them feel, and in the morning no one in the house would leave you two alone until at least a little revenge would be done. So now Husk could entertain himself with others’ shame and vain attempts to hide the shame, and tomorrow he would be enjoying you both disgrace.

He smirked to himself and looked at those who sat at the table with him: Niffty darling and this young fellow Anthony. Their trio seemed to be the only one left unbothered by the salacious sound from upstairs, they all were sitting grinning as if waiting for something, and were the only ones who were not afraid to meet others’ gazes.

But the found fun was coming to an end — the sound began to fade and nobody heard anything anymore. It didn't mean though that you two had finished, and Anthony knew it, but at least it was silent again. There the front door was opened and Mr. Vide came in. Husk straightened his back, nodded to the man as he met his eyes. Father chose the right moment, it was a great luck he had missed the so called show. It just so happened that the alcohol came to an end during the celebration, and the next moment you rushed down the stairs to meet Alastor, right at the second when your father said he was going to bring more. And as the outlaw vanished in the darkness with you in his arms, arousing in Mr. Vide those feeling and desires that would terrify any god of cruelty with their indifferent bloodlust, he only turned away, mumbling something about coming back soon and headed for the shed where he kept some extra boxes with liquor. In fact the way to the shed and back took him much longer than was necessary, but Husker was glad it turned out so.

Mr. Vide stepped inside with a frown although not so black as the moment you jumped into Alastor's embrace. Something had soothed his pain and fury, perhaps something that had also made his flush on the cheeks brighter and his gait sloppier. He even smiled when Anthony noticed him and started cheering, which was immediately picked up by the others. After all, he had a big box of alcohol in his grip. He met eyes with the new customers and made them bow still with the clinging glass contents in the box in his hands. One of the residents took the banjo again and already wanted to take an accord when suddenly the fragile idyll was ruined.

You screamed.

Father threw the box at his feet and rushed to the stairs, but Husker stopped him. Father froze as Husker's hand appeared on his shoulder, and as everyone fell silent in the inn he could perfectly understand the real nature of your scream. The scream you emitted was loud and prolonging, actually a whimper, and those who hadn't heard you before might think you were raping now or even worse, but the moment your father stopped, and liquor from broken bottles spread to his boots, the frightening cry of pain turned into a sequence of moans, which cause was nothing but wild, pure pleasure.

Husk squeezed his grip on Vide's shoulder as the man tried to move forward. He met his gaze — two black voids in the place of the irises and pupils. There was no light in Father's eyes anymore. He pursed his lips like every time he forced himself to hold back, broke loose from Husk’s grasp and quickly left the inn. To the echo of his boots accompanied the duet of your and your beloved's groans and moans.

Husk took his seat again, took off his hat and placed it on the table.

Anthony's gaze was fixed to the broken box and growing bronze puddle under it.

“Tut!” He cursed, “That's how old men _throw_ a party.” He rolled his eyes, propping his chin against his palm.

Quite soon the footsteps were heard from your room, and there you were coming downstairs, pulling Alastor by his hand after you. You merrily jumped off the last step and didn't even greet anyone, rushing forward like a hurricane. But the big blue eyes of a stranger girl caught your attention. You slowed down, and Alastor slightly bumped against your back. Asking what was wrong he followed the direction of your gaze, and he froze in place next to you.

Charlotte watched you two with wide eyes, but you couldn't understand why she even fixed your gaze to her, you just felt that she was powerful. Maybe as powerful as Alastor, or maybe even more… And you were fascinated not only with her fairy-tale beauty but also with that strange tingling in your heart that she had provoked. It was the knowledge, the perception of others magic powers, unknown to mortals and sensible for people like you. You didn't know it yet, only foretasted that the ability to recognize such people in the stream of humankind would increase after the ritual. But maybe you could feel even this — the present lack of sense and upcoming power in the performance — so you turned away from the she-stranger and pulled Alastor after you again.

ミ ☼ 彡

Alastor led you into the circle, traced on the sand, and turned you around so you faced him. His eyes emitted soft rose red light laying on you as a veil in the midnight darkness. His hands left you to be hidden behind his back, and you immediately felt a cool wind blowing around, playing with your hair and the folds of your dress. You were still in your nightgown, magically fixed with Alastor’s magic after his passionate act that ruined it. The snap of his fingers even cleaned you both, though you still could feel some clamminess on your thighs.

“Well, Cher,” He started, making a step back. The narrow pupils roamed over your face without stopping, “There won't be asked much from you. All I ask you to do is to follow my instructions without demur. Understood?”

You nodded. When had you ever demurred when he needed something from you? On the very first day you let him in your house to follow him afterwards even without him asking.

“Good.” He smiled and approached you again, slightly rocking on his toes. Seemed like he was… nervous? He was still smiling, masterly hiding his true emotions, but his body gave him away eventually. That was strange.

“Now, Dear, close your eyes for me.”

You held your gaze on him for two seconds and his beautiful smiling face disappeared in the blackness of your closed eyelids. You heard approaching footsteps crunching on the sand and stopping in front of you. The thrill was growing in you, making the butterflies flit in your belly to the pleasurable aching. You heard the rustling of clothes and metal grinding, it exited you even more. Alastor could see your emotion by the flutter of your eyelashes and chewing on your lower lip. He was glad you wanted this to happen so vastly, but his own hands slightly trembled as he drew the knife out.

“Open your mouth, Cher.”

You opened, but nothing followed. Time went and went and seemed passing too slowly when you didn't do anything and just stood with your eyes closed. Every little sound reaching your ears seemed an important hint of what could happen, but nothing followed. Suddenly you heard a suppressed sound as though it was a sigh or a hiss, and you listened closely. But nothing again. Saliva was produced in your open mouth and you swallowed. You shifted from one foot to the other. There was only silence, darkness and the incontestable presence of Alastor. Your thrill changed into tension.

“Now.”

You gave a start, hearing Alastor's voice again. It pierced through the extending time and flashing blackness of your inner sight, bringing you back to reality.

The sand crunched under his boot as he made a step to you and leaned in,

“Now, Cher, open up wider and…No-no-no! Not your eyes, ah ah!” He brought his palm in front of your eyes, and you slightly trembled, feeling his warmth. “Mouth. Open your mouth wider.” His commanding tone fondled through your ears to your very core, and your jaw fell open and eyes shut close. “Good girl!” He praised, bringing flush to your skin.

And then something was placed on your tongue. Salty, bitter, escalating your appetite. Alastor's fingers pressed on your tongue, pushing a strange piece of food (if it was food) ahead, deeply into your mouth, until you closed your lips around his digits and swallowed.

“Ohh, easy, Sugar! Or you'll swallow me whole haha!“ He chuckled darkly, taking his fingers from your warm capture.

You chewed. It was thick and slippery, it squashed between your teeth, oozing the metallic juice on your tongue and gums; it was hard to chew and the longer you did it the more disgusting the taste became; the piece had lost its bitterish salty taste that you liked at first, but you didn’t stop. What was odd, the taste was familiar but the hard structure seemed to make it strange for you. The mass enveloped your oral, the metallic taste mixed with your saliva. You squeezed your eyes overcoming the retch as you swallowed this taste and stopped chewing for a moment. Then you let this mass, warm, still tough and tasteless, slide down your throat.

You gave a little start as you felt warm fingers on your chin — Alastor touched you.

“Good job, Sweetness. Now, a little more?” Although he said it as if asking, you knew it was rather a command and you opened your mouth for him again. “Don't try to bite my fingers off this time.” He joked with a chuckle and placed another piece of something into your mouth. You let him retract and only then closed your mouth and began to chew.

But it was something new. Absolutely different: neither taste, nor structure were familiar. But it was tasty, so damn tasty. You had to slow down the work of your jaws to let yourself revel in the rare flavour. You could barely understand what it was: soft and pleasurably chewy, sticky as honey and bitter-sweet the same, aromatic even being in your mouth and smelling like roast berries, sour, sweet, eccentric. You slowly moved your jaws, the flavour made you salivate. And there the piece glided down into your stomach just as the previous offering. And this time you even sighed in sadness.

“Now, Dear,” Alastor gently laid his hand on your cheek and pushed slightly to the side, making you tilt your head. You felt him being close, you also felt something was wrong with you. Something in your mouth. “I'll make it fast and most gently, so no need to worry, cher. You can even open your eyes and watch the stars. Ready?”

You had an idea what you had to be ready for even without him being specific, but actually you were.

You slowly opened your eyes. The stars were still visible on the grey pre-dawn sky, though they were living out their last minutes of the night. They were leaving now to return to the same places and in the same order at night. The moon continued to shine, though the horizon glowed by the rising sun, the sun that wanted to chase away its pale sister and take her place in the firmament. But the moon still shone white, like a pearl on grey-pink satin, a trace of the night in the morning sky. She knew that the sun would never win, and even in the daytime she would make herself known as a white ghostly disk on a blue dome. But the sun could not do that. The sun died at sunset and was born at dawn. The moon was eternal. And you fixed your gaze on it, on the eternal companion of your suffering and melancholy, while Alastor was sinking his teeth deeply into your flesh.

He kept you head tilted and neck exposed to his jaws. He wrapped his arms around you, so you wouldn't move away or fall if you faint — he prevented any possible disturbance, while his fangs were splitting your skin apart, and your blood rushed into his mouth. You heavily sighed, relaxing in his strong embrace, and he deepened the bite. You felt your blood streaming down your chest in a cold leisure trickle, it might ruin your white nightgown again. Alastor's mouth was hot on your throat. He was sucking your blood with groans and almost lewd smacks — you definitely were tasty for him. Somehow there was no pain, perhaps, his bite was quick; now he only sucked in and licked clean, some kind of a kiss imitation, a predatory kiss. You felt dizzy and weak, your stomach hurt again, a weird sensation in your mouth became stronger, and you became weak in your knees, but strong arms of his helped you to remain standing. The pinkish sky gradienting with golden sun rays faded before your eyes now and then as you lowered your eyelids in an emotion between panic and bliss, whilst his bite was turning into a kiss. He passionately pressed his lips to the fresh wound and gently covered it with kisses. He pressed your body closely to him, and you felt his heartbeat, just as he could feel yours even if it was becoming weaker and weaker. His lips travelled over your neck, up to the back of your ear and down to your shoulders. He lolled out his tongue to teasingly brush your collarbone with it, as he kept it caught between his fangs. You leaned closer to him with each hot kiss he gave to you, and his arms clenched stronger around your body. He heard you whispering his name, and then you became feeble and limply lay in his embrace.

Alastor slowly opened his crimson eyes, not taking his mouth from your neck. He witnessed the sun rising up from the black silhouette of the hills, giving the sky itself a clean, soft colour, illuminating the land around and the little spot of the inn ahead. And he knew the sun let two long black shadows to be born on the yellow-brown sand. One shadow adorned with antlers was holding another one in its long arms as it was approaching the shadow of the building.

ミ˙˚☆˙. ⋆ ☼ ⋆ .˙☆˚˙彡

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