Eat my heart out if you're able
Rating: Explicit, Alastor/OC, 15k words, oneshot
Alastor thought Vox had limits. He thought Vox would never take things too far, like using a love potion on him to get him into his bed.
Now, drugged and tied in his chair, waiting for Vox to come back and find him, Alastor is desperate in a way he's never been.
Daphne is a maid at Voxtek—a thrall whose soul ended up in Vox's hands, but is utterly beneath his notice. A friend of Angel Dust's, she seeks his help when she finds Alastor in a compromised state.
But Alastor doesn't want Angel's help.
"Here," she said, stroking his hair, and she lifted a heavy breast in her hand, pushing her nipple between his parted lips.
Soft flesh filled his mouth—softer than anything he had ever touched, and he wanted to bite, wanted to rend her open with his teeth and taste her. But when a tooth scraped her nipple, she let out a gasp and her fingers tightened in his hair, giving him a warning tug. His ears drooped and he nuzzled closer in silent apology, and her fingers relaxed and began to stroke him again. Even though soft skin of her breast covered his mouth, he was not frightened. As he sucked and worried at her, her nipple grew stiffer and easier to keep it where he wanted it—pinned to the roof of his mouth by his tongue's repetitive movement. The desire to bite faded as he fell into a rhythm and the world narrowed, growing smaller and smaller until there was nothing but this.
A little hand slipped down between them and gave him a tentative stroke, but he slipped out of her fingers—he was too wet, and with her other hand steadying her breast for him, she couldn't lean down any further. Alastor let out a whimper and tried to thrust, moaning when his cock rubbed on her stockings between her thighs. She lifted her skirt and he glanced down, static buzzing in distress when he saw how disgusting and needy his swollen, dripping cock looked against her clean, modest underclothes. She gently stroked him, then guided him between her thighs, slipping him beneath her garter. Alastor groaned around his mouthful of her breast, and a fresh stream of clear fluid issued from him, staining her pristine garments. She let her skirt drop again and he thrust helplessly, grunting in pleasure.
"Does that feel good?" she asked, burying her other hand in his hair, and he moaned an affirmative, refusing to let her breast out of his mouth. He kept thrusting, rubbing himself against her, cock held against her soft thigh by her garter. He was close, he was close, and God, her breasts were so soft, and every time he tugged on her nipple just so, her entire body jerked like he'd shocked her.
"Good," she gasped, "good boy."
