Full Moon
Rating: Explicit
Pairings: RadioHusk, in the context of human!Alastor x Demon!Husk, M/M.
Summary:
An unnamable force deep within Husk spills forth, completely alien to him in the hundred years of existence. He bites his tongue to keep the whimper from escaping, failing as he senses Alastor stepping closer. He can feel the heat rolling off the radio host in waves. The air around him turns hot and unbearable.
“You’ve lost the bet… “
Warnings: Dark Themes, mild Gore, womb tattoos, dubcon elements, alcohol use, body branding, alcohol abuse, domsub overtones, orgasms denial... sorry husk.
Accompanying Song: Full Moon - The Black Ghosts
“Not tonight either. You are to stay and rest.”
Again?
“For what?”
But the human only smiled before taking off into the yawning darkness of the night.
……………………………..
The feline creature peeked through the embroidered curtains.
He’s greeted by empty streets lined and lit by incandescent lamps. It’s 2:15 AM, the grandfather clock standing at the livingroom corner tells him.
He shouldn’t care.
Does not care for this human...
This human monster.
This devil.
Because there’s simply no other way to describe him.
The feline demon plops onto the armchair next to the window, grabs his moonshine jar - an offering from his master - gives it a long gulp, lets the liquid travel down his throat in its burning liquid path. He’s become dependent on inebriating indulgences, so much so that even this horrid contraband booze tastes far better than the poison from his native realm, freely facilitated to him by his accommodating host after commenting so one day.
His body relaxes after a few quiet moments, stares at nothing in particular in the room. A soothing evening breeze comes through the open window, glad the constricting humid heat of the day has finally been chased away, finding it unbearable under his fur.
The broadcast ended hours ago...
Golden eyes return to the half empty jar in the demon’s large clawed paw, then survey his surroundings for what feels like the hundredth time that night, looks on the house he's confined in—having quickly learned the limits of his freedom when the manacle, symbol of their agreement, was painfully pulled last Hallow’s Eve when he decided to took a stroll alone to partake in the festivities.
The fury in the human’s eyes had been indescribable.
There, on the wall above the fireplace hangs his mother’s portrait. A warm smile gives life to an elegant woman, her beauty unmarred by age at the time the picture was taken. She appears so different from her son, superficially charming as he was. A morbid curiosity innate to the demon wonders what she would think if she knew of the ghastly crimes her child enacts out in the wetlands at night. ‘Where had she gone wrong?!’ He pictures her wailing upon finding the truth. And if he were allowed to be there he would console her, rub her sobbing back, tell her that some souls are just born like that; cruelly wicked. Wrong.
Or perhaps his master' nature originated from a different realm altogether.
For you see, the blood sacrifice required to bring him forth was no small amount, thus the heathen creature fully expected to see a covenant of mortals prostrated before the Calling altar.
Yet what greeted him was a single young man.
With a single perfect smile.
Unperturbed by the eviscerated corpses around him.
-
A distant obnoxious cackle made his ear twitch to attention, looking outside once more only shows a young couple zig-zagging down the street, remarkably drunk to any onlooker. That could mean a whole lot of trouble in this territory and era. But they were safe with only him as witness.
How long had it been since the odious night of his Calling? He asks wordlessly at the taxidermized stag head staring from the other side of the room, the one fellow companion he's had since his arrival as a single night bled onto the other and then another, one week, two weeks, a month, two months… almost a year.
The macabre radio host’s sadism and terror only grew now with the powers of the supernatural aiding his hunts, much taken from the cat demon’s own reservoir.
It was bizarre.
Frightening, truly.
The way he killed, without hesitation nor remorse—delighted in the muted wet sound of flesh pierced by the blunt force of his hatchet. Laughter intermingled with his victim's screams as the feline looked on mesmerized hidden among the trees, entertaining the possibility that the universal order which ruled all might have made a grave mistake with this one; making him a man when he should have spawned into existence as a demonic lord...
And then there was the matter of his summoning.
“Why did you call for me?”
He asked upon the first night, arms crossed allowing himself to be carried like a bride through marshes and overhanging branches. He was fully prepared to trick the human out of his soul right then and there depending on his answer, as permitted within the conditions of his contract, already thinking of the man as another addition to his repertoire of the damned.
“You must have want for something. Everybody does.”
But nothing could have prepared him for the answer provided.
“Why I seek company, of course!” A smile split his summoner’s face. “Somebody I can trust, somebody who revels in the perverse as much as I.”
The demon let out belting laughter in the murderer's arms still, head thrown back, causing the quaint top black hat previously belonging to a pile of flesh left behind falling to the mossy earth below.
“No mortal is more twisted than a hellborn, human.”
The human’s face froze in a close mouthed grin, standing under the moonlight, his eyes lit crimson lit by the remnants of the blasphemous conjuring from an hour prior.
“I can prove you wrong, mon chéri.” A scoff. “Do you fancy waging a bet?”
Isn’t that what he should be offering instead? “Of course. Isn’t that why you called? I’ll be considerate and give you a year to ‘prove me wrong.’” He answered confidently, examining the tips of his clawed paw. This was too easy. “Though I will require a tribute every other night if you wish to keep me until the day I take your soul.” He smirked, victorious, showing off two rows of sharp fanged teeth.
A pause. Hesitation perhaps? But the notion was snuffed out by mirthful laughter instead. “My, you’re quite self-assured, aren’t you, kitty cat? I can already tell, we’ll get along marvelously!”
And that had been the end of everything for the winged being, hadn’t even given a second thought to the first answer received…
……………………………..
It happened one night.
Clumsily bumping against trees, the radio host stumbled among the green shrubs in high spirit, the exhilaration of the night’s hunt still coursing through his veins under an overcast night sky. An empty bottle of gin hung loosely from his blood stained hand with the demon begrudging him for finishing the last sip as he finished burying another poor bastard in a makeshift grave. The second one that week.
His master responded by grabbing him.
A firm arm ensnared his waist, dropping the emptied bottle to the ground as he tangled his other hand with his, pulling the creature against his chest. The smell of alcohol intermingled with the man’s cologne alongside the coppery smell of blood.
Then he sang, drawled bits and pieces of the tune he played daily in his radio programme.
“Alastor, let go!” He was ignored. “You’re drunk!” He urged, as if he was faring any better.
“Drunk for you, drunk… on you~... You make a winner, a winner, my doll~!“ The radio host continued on, a warm cheek pressed against his fur. “My sweet, sweet Husker.”
“‘Told you to call me Husk. And my powers don’t make you invisible, dumbass, we need to hurr— !!” He tried shoving the other away, but the hold on him remained as one of their feet caught on a protruding root on the ground. The fall dragged both of them onto disturbed earth - a mess of limbs, feathers and fur - right above their latest victim’s final resting place. Laughter erupted from the human laying below him. The demon grumbled out a curse, moved to unmount his captor only to find a pair hands splayed at the base of his waist.
“Hey!“
The protest was cut short when he felt a warm hand slowly snake up his chest, parting the white fur there as Alastor beheld his inhuman form with uncanny intensity, eyes aglow behind round glasses. They spoke of hunger of an entirely different kind, immediately putting the demon on edge.
But there was also something else, something strange and not entirely unpleasant; lascivious and primal in essence.
That's when Husk realized that he’d felt that same stare from the man before, but always assumed it to be mere curiosity and nothing more—only then did it dawn on him what the deviant stare meant, the desire held within.
“Such a beautiful creature, let me have you tonight.” He stated in a hoarse whisper.
The firm warmth nestled between his legs suddenly obvious when the creature was dragged by the waist along the other's growing arousal. Gasping, his clawed paws came to rest against the human’s chest.
“Are you mad?! That’s not— !!“ Another deliberately slow motion. Another sharp intake of breath.
”Not what?” He mocked through a restrained grin. “You said anything I wanted... pleased as you were before with my offering today.”
He did indeed say as much, inebriated as he had been on the gin… still is.
“Only the wicked wish to lay with our kind.” He tried as a last resort, as if appealing to the man’s already eroded sense of decency would deter him when heaps of bodies lay buried throughout the forest.
Alastor did not grace him with a verbal response, sat up with the unnerving grace only he seemed to possess and sealed their lips together in an open mouth kiss.
...
Many nights passed like that thereafter.
The grip on his torso, hips, legs, and wings became familiar, expected - desired even - at almost every sundown. Sometimes right after a kill in the woods. Red smearing over his soft fur, heady pleasure coursing through him, coming undone in a way no one had quite made him do before.
“Have you been with other humans?”
And that very thought perturbed him whenever sense returned to him, stalkingly aware that control was slowly slipping away from the night creature as his own craving of not only the meals offered but of the man himself also grew in tandem. However, all caution was thrown to wind the moment his knees folded against his ears, at odd hours of the night and every room of the house - even the shed among dismembered remains. He reasoned to himself that it must have been the chase, it must have been the savagery, or the unscrupulous nature the other displayed during the hunts that got to him. Exhilarating but something the demon could easily do without once the human’s soul was his, or so he believed. It shouldn't be too long from now…
The question came one night, in between unrestful sleep in his master’s bed, had not noticed the other wide awake as he laid unmoving.
“I’m no damn incubus. So no.” Was his grumbled answer, and then with a yawn, “But I might now that I got a taste for it, maybe on my next Calling.”
He wasn’t permitted on the next hunt after that, nor the one the week after, nor the week after that. Nor the months after.
Silence followed, as sleep overtook him.
Alastor had taken to shutting himself up in his study for most of the day and some nights too, foregoing even attending the speakeasies he so dearly loved, bringing new tomes to pour over on the regular. Alongside liquor for him too.
How and from where he got either of them, Husk never knew nor cared to ask.
……………………………..
He’s in his master’s study now looking through the books and notes splayed over his desk; All are concerning the dark arts… all obsessively studied as revealed by the moon’s light from outside.
But to what end now? Hadn’t he already succeeded in a summon?
Then again, he’d never directly met a human quite like the radio host in the hundreds of years the winged demon had come into existence. One so devoted to the arcane out of sheer boredom, causing chaos for mere entertainment with little gain other than unabated fear from the masses at the whisperings of his crimes. There was no drive for riches when he already had enough to live a comfortable life, nor need for social capital when the entirety of the community already knew him, adored him even. And perhaps that’s what makes him so unnerving, not knowing what motivation drove the wickedness in the man. There's a bottomless abyss where his heart should be, he thought, chilling to think what could such a man accomplish with such dark power, having no qualms of using the occult to fill the void of his obscure agenda.
Almost a pity he can’t get too far with an already compromised soul.
Husk smirks to himself, until his eyes land on a new addition to the collection of tomes on the table:
Sigils of Domination: Everlasting Binding Rites.
…
What—
The front door slams open.
Husk hurries, emerging from the study to see Alastor’s silhouette entering.
“Husker!” A radiant manic smile shoots his way after tossing a small sack of something onto the living room floor. Husk pays it no mind as annoyance quickly takes over the demon by all the racket being made. “You waited up for me! Aww, you shouldn’t have!” He divests off a thick trench coat, opening his long slender arms walking towards him. Crimson splatters cover his vest and leather clad hands, quiet evidence of the reason for his delay.
Husk permits the hug, has learned it is much easier to let him indulge.
“Oh please, you would have woken me up anyway, surprised it hasn't anyone else yet.”
The human tilts his head to the side pulling away from him, softly pinching one of his feline ears. “Whatever you say, dear.”
The demon swats the hand away, promptly goes to put logs in the chimney, starting a kindling fire. Figures they’ll need it to rid the sack’s contents, and does not register the pair of eyes following his every move.
Soon though, they shift to the jar of moonshine set next to him over the rug. Alastor takes it, leans back just as Husk’s paw attempts to swipe it back, sniffs it, makes a face and proceeds to dump the jar’s contents over the fire, causing the flames to roar anew.
“The fuck you doin’!”
Husk struggles to form the words to cuss out the man when a hard object is shoved against his chest. It takes him a moment to examine the object.
It’s a bottle of whiskey.
“Canadian, and it cost me a premium too!”
Oh... well.
He doesn’t know what to say, settles for grumbling a rare ‘thanks’ instead, standing up. He'd like to question the motive for the extravagant gift but the alluring liquid calls his name, so he uncaps the bottle to give it a sip. Strong woody, earthy tones wash over his tongue like sweet elixir. He licks his lips, giving it a second try, “ ...‘s good.”
“Good to hear, my dear Husker. Do enjoy, this should be your last!”
And that truly gives the demon a reason for pause.
“What, you’re finally giving?" A nasty grin draws over his feline face, ignoring the strange unexpected emptiness forming inside his chest, deciding the moonshine ingested is to blame. “Done wasting my time?" Yet, can't help the words spilling forth. “Done treating me like your pet? Like I’m a big fucking joke you summoned one night on a whim because you were lonely and bored?!” And it must surely been the alcohol because the next part comes out of his mouth without a second thought. “What, that broad Helen finally got to pounce on you? The poor bitch… ” He laughs, voice laced with vitriol and disgust.
The bottle is then abruptly taken from his paw, moved up and away from him. “What’s eating you, dear?!” Alastor asks with no small amount of delight in his voice. “I had no idea my acquaintance with Helen had bothered as much!”
“Bother me?!” His wings bat one, two, three times, at this point more for show than anything. “Naw, I’m happy for you. Good fucking riddance!” He’s salutes when an encircleshis waist, his tormentor takes a long gulp of whiskey before leaning down to kiss him.
Husk’s mouth opens to protest, but hot liquor floods inside, poured from the other’s own mouth.
Then does something that never fails to make the demon’s senses go haywire; purposely nicks his tongue against his sharp canines, hints of human blood mix with alcohol and saliva. A moan rises from the back of Husks’s thoat, as he drinks from the other readily, easily, letting the excess drip and dampen his fur. Warmth pools in his chest then down to his slowly building arousal. He tries to put some space in between but is stopped by the man’s gloved hand at the back of his head.
The demon’s pupils are now blown wide, eyes glazed over. “More… give me more.“ He begs, lips still touching.
“And there he is, my sweet Husker.” The gaze on his master’s handsome face softens, touches their forehead together. “I’ve neglected you haven’t I? And worry not, Helen will no longer be a concern to you.”
Uncaring of whatever the could have meant, Husk lets his demonic instincts take over, pushing Alastor over the recliner sofa behind him in an unceremonious thud. Follows his master’s descent on his knees. Soft purring rises up his chest as he nuzzles the man’s clothed member with his face.
A dark chuckle reverberates above the demon before a pair of still gloved hands move to unfasten his trousers after he sets the whiskey aside, Husks takes care of the rest, freeing the endowed length underneath, his chest moves up and down - flushed all over. He’s no incubus, he declared and been ceaselessly teased numerous times for his ‘rousing’ enthusiasm. But he cares not, hungrily kisses the member in appreciation, enjoying the way Alastor’s breath hitches before he swipes a soft plush tongue from the base to the tip, placing open mouthed kisses sideways of the shaft. A set of hands takes hold of the feline’s head, he knows what’s being asked of him. The warm cavern of his mouth engulfs his master’s length, lets the girth of it rest in his mouth - carefully covers his fangs with the skin of his muzzle, reveling in the man’s flesh. His head then begins to move up and down, slow at first… the taste of precum dazing his senses.
Alastor's hips follow the rhythm set for now, watches his precious pet lick and suck his cock, cute head bobbing up and down in wet slurping motions, eyes closed completely absorbed in him. He was so good, so eager to please when it came to this. He pushes himself to the back of the cat demon’s throat - causing his golden eyes to roll back up his skull. A soft curse is uttered through grit teeth at the sight—and that does it. He pulls Husk off. A slender hand grasps the demon’s jaw keeping it open as Alastor’s legs spread further encasing the kneeling creature below. The vision is intoxicating, having this much power over such a wonderfully dark being.
“Come closer.” The radio host commands and the feline obliges.
He strokes his member sleek with saliva and precum a few more times, spits inside the demon’s mouth just before he reaches climax. Warm bursts of white land largely inside the pink open mouth, the rest stains the perfectly white fur of his face. Alastor watches in rapt attention as the creature hungrily swallows everything given to him, then obediently opens its mouth again to show it emptied. Hot puffs of breath almost visible in the darkness of the room.
It makes the man burn anew.
Husk feels himself being lifted, straddles slender thighs letting his arousal rub against the other. Lets himself be kissed with fierce candor. The aftertaste of cum intermingles with saliva, the scent permeating his furred body. He searches for his own release palming at his erection when Alastor’s hand stops him.
“No, not yet.” He says.
“Are you— “
“On all fours, now.” His words are soft but the orders clear, his gaze intense with the flickering flames behind reflecting off his glasses.
Husk’s own body reacts, moves to accommodate the command, ignoring the heated flush that rushes through his body, unused to the revealing position but eager when his throbbing member has been promised release. There’s a moment of silence where Husk’s wonders what appealing aspect his master sees in him until feels the leather of his gloved hands move up the back of his thighs.
“You have no idea what you do to a man, Husk… This sinful body of yours.”
The words send a wave of exhilarating arousal through him, but he’d rather bite off his tongue before he admits that to the human. “Then get on with it, I need to… “ The words die in his throat when his ass is spread and a hot wet mouth touches his innermost being. “Fuuu-ck!” His hands give away from under him, his upper body comes to rest over bent elbows, back arched in submission. Alastor’s devilish tongue swipes over his entrance while his thumbs spread him further, his hips push back chasing more the sensation as the ring of muscles relaxes, allowing the other entrance. Obscene wet sounds rise above the warm room, as he bites his lips to keep his barely contained moans and expletives quiet.
Alastor spits at his entrance, another hoarse intake of breath from Husk’s end… How can this man be so…? A blunt tip of his finger breaches him, interrupting his cursed train of thought.
“Relax for me.” The man demands, his voice sounds just as worked as Husk feels. His ears lay back as if to keep the voice and embarrassment away.
But he does so, giving room for a second digit to join the first. In and out in unhurried tortuous unison they go, their length perfectly reaches his pleasure’s core. “I need to… “ Is all he mutters, a second time seeking his release, one of his hands goes to touch his neglected throbbing cock. Until he’s made to move once again. It doesn't escape Husk how similar he is to serial murderer's victims; limp limbs, hips and torso - all easily manipulated, rearranged - to his liking.
Suddenly he’s face up, his ankles held by two strong slender hands, the fur between his legs wet with precum and saliva from the stimulation. His wings spread out below him as if to take flight. The barely there golden rings of his eyes focus on the man above, the white of the fur over chest slowly rises with every shaky intake of breath.
“Look at you… Only I could have gotten so lucky to have you, strange alluring creature... ” He comments, breathless with a smile from ear to ear - so wide his gums show above the perfect row of teeth, hungry eyes burning through the demon below.
“Shut up and hurry up already.” Husk mutters, covering his face with a forearm, a small refuge from the sadistic monster whose grasp he can’t seem to free himself from just yet.
“Eager aren’t we?” He laughs, only this time it comes more subdued. His hands shift to the back of Husks’s knees. Husk lifts his arm, observes in strange fascination as human aligns his already erect member to his entrance - and pushes past his slick.
A moan escapes his throat, his head tilts back against the cushioned surface below, feeling the other’s length invading his insides, reaching that place only he can seem to reach. “Yes, yes— Mmmng!” Alastor nuzzles his cheek until he’s fully sheathed inside.
“ ...Alastor, please!!” He begs, arms wrapping him in an embrace. "Fuck me!"
And it’s like he summons something dark and beastly inside the human as he sets on a brutal pace. Husk holds onto him, is all he can do - his insides rearranging for the thick girth inside. “Fuck… !” He curses again, brows scrunched up in pleasure, warm breath is shared between the two with their proximity as the couch creaks in protest with Alastor’s trusts.
The human’s dark nature unfolds with every animalistic motion. Husk can feel every ripple of slender taut muscle through his clothes, uselessly claws at them wishing them off, gasps under the other’s merciless onslaught. His mind going momentarily hazy with the need for release with every thrust before the accursed thing somehow manages to play a nasty trick on him; apprehension creeps inside him.
A bout of sudden clarity provides him with the realization of how little in control he is of anything at any given moment of his current situation with the man, having surrendered so much of himself already and without noticing. Uneasiness and an unwelcome sense of shame settles over him, and in that brief instant he feels himself truly hating Alastor with all his being…
As if sensing his innermost thoughts, Alastor pauses all movement to meet his gaze. “Oh Husker… I’m not keen on how those eyes regard me.”
His master relinquishes the hold on him only for the shine of a ceremonial dagger to appear. Sudden panic overwhelms the demon, caught in trangression - disloyalty.
Shit.
Though the suspense soon turns into bewilderment when Alastor also procures the contents of the sack laid forgotten until now against the couch, and initiates a series of incantations in an arcane language unknown even to him.
Husks eyes widen when a human heart is revealed.
A sudden pang of visceral appetite overwhelms him, salivating at the prospect of a meal. The need to consume becomes tenfold when Alastor stabs the engorged muscle with the blade, then guides the sharp edge to the inward plane of his own forearm. Blood flows from both sources, they intermixe together in a decadent feast. Both are offered to the demon who wastes no time in taking the offered heart from Alastor’s hand.
The heart is gone in one, two, three bites before Husks sets his sights on the man’s arm.
He lets him feed from the wound, serrated fangs push against olive skin to let more blood onto the heathen creature’s mouth.
All the while the chants never stop, they resonate in dim warm light of the room.
His voice seems to come from all corners of the house, from every shadow, filtering through the radio. The words wrap around him, invading his ears and inner being. Husk listens as he drinks, drinks, and drinks—taking his fill of his Master’s essence, quenching a long forgotten thirst born from hellfire and sin.
It’s all Husk hears until deafening silence falls over him again.
“My sweet Husker… “ Alastor says at last. “You should not deny yourself… the pleasures of earth when all can be yours.”
A strong grip scruffs him from the back of his neck as the source of blood moves away.
“All that you could ever want I can give to you!” A malicious hiss rises above crackling flames. “if you agree to be mine and mine alone.”
The taste of leather and copper seeps into Husk’s when a pair of long gingers invades his mouth. Another hand hooks over one of his wings pulling him downward over Alastor’s throbbing length, he’s unable to form a single thought beyond this, greedily takes whatever this dark mortal soul has to give him. His hips rut against the other seeking to prolong more of this maddeni pleasure.
“Answer… ” His baritone lowers, none of the usual showmanship present, removing his fingers from Husk’s mouth. The demon’s eyes crack open.
He stops the canting of his hips once more. This time Husk keens in desperation, he can feel himself nearing limit, climax just over the edge. So he ascents - nods, anything for his own release.
“Yes… yes, yes!” He repeats like a mantra. “Only you… !”
A triumphant smile adorns Alastor’s face before unhinged laughter bursts through the magus. His eyes turn sharp in a way Husk has never seen on a human, they loom over him before they descend for a kiss, slotting their bodies back together a sinewy movement, repositioning himself inside Husk who can do little more than sob out a moan.
Alastor’s thrusts pick up again, hips snapping against Husk’s with renewed purpose - entering in and out of him with merciless vigor, enjoying the perfect way Husk’s warm plush walls welcome him again and again, relishes in the way the demonic creature bounces up and down below him; his beautiful feathers made a mess, ruined - yet he still holds onto him for dear life. The wildly vision reaffirms his belief that this one being was destined to be solely his while Husk can do little more than call his name.
A pair of arms wrap around his torso, lifting the winged demon off the couch. He yelps as gravity brings his body down and over Alastor’s lap, his demonic physiognomy readily welcomes more the harden memeber, both groan in the new position. However, Husk doesn’t expect the other’s hands to wrap around the base of his wings to lift him up to then bring him severely down over his jutting cock. Husk's vision goes white for a blinding moment, a half-moan half-cry tears through him, nearly comes but then the savage motion is repeated again and again.
Until he finally bites his master’s shoulder as a retaliation. Alastor allows it, feels him snigger through a hiss of pain. ‘Good,’ Husk thinks through the fog of pleasure as his hips move to heet him half way, greedily taking from the human again… 'Greedy', he was always so greedy, hears Alastor say as much. Up and down he goes, realizing that he's finally free to touch his own swollen cock as his hole is stretched full— his poor bundle of nerves taking the abuse over and over again. He lets of go of the bleeding shoulder, finally fisting his own erection bouncing on Alastor's cock in wanton tandem.
“Mngh— yeah, right there, so good, so good, rightthere!” A dull ache quickly builds at the base of Husk’s core, until he can bear no more. "OHhh-hh, ha Ah-Ahh!!"
A harrowing orgasm shakes his entire being, bursts of cum stain his fur and Alastor’s clothes as Alastor holds him place, and a hoarse groan drags out his chest as he grinds into Husk’s heat.
"Fuuu-ck!!"
Spurts of hot cum overfill Husk’s guts, unseeing golden eyes face the ceiling above, his lower body ruts against the other’s grip to ride out the rest of his climax. His baser nature roars in extacy - satisfied at last, accepting the human’s seed pumping into him.
The moment seems to last a lifetime, as both come down exhausted from the afterglow.
The crackling fire is the only sound heard for some time.
Alastor kisses him once more, tasting his blood in the feline’s tongue, lazily traces Husk’s entrance where they're joined together. He lets himself enjoy the moment, Alastor’s hand goes up and down at his side as their tongues push against one another.
Husk is the first to move, dislodging himself from Alastor’s lap, does not miss the way the crimson-brown eyes watch cum drip from his swollen hole. An embarrassing sound escapes past his lips as his entrance struggles to readjust from the loss.
Alastor exhales a light chuckle, self-satisfaction evident on his face.
Husk is about to hurl an insult at him but is made to lay sideways over the lounge sofa instead with Alastor facing him, head resting against the palm of his hand.
Alastor, whose burning stare does not leave him. Husk’s determined frown folds under the pressure, spent as he was, settles over the radio host’s chest, over the bowtie and vest which somehow managed to remain on throughout the entire ordeal. The white linen shirt now rendered useless with his owner’s blood and tears made by his own unforgiving teeth and claws.
“Since the first night that I saw you, I knew I wanted you forever.” Alastor is the first to speak.
“Oh please, don’t ruin the moment… ” Husk grumbles, shifts to face away from the man, unwilling to learn whatever else lays beyond his gaze. The same apprehension from before returning.
He’s stopped, though, a hand at his hip.
That's when Husk finally notices the leather gloves gone, bearing darkened sooty skin. Moving upward, Alastor’s fingers fade to crimson red, lastly crowned by a set of sharp claws much like his own.
Whatever other smartass retort he had dies in his throat.
The wrongness of it all comes crashing down in him like the weight of an entire planet, horrid understanding settling over him. Husk fights to sit up.
The room suddenly spins as the same mask of pleasant indifference is back on Alastor’s face. Husk recognizes that expression, it’s the very same one he wears when his victims have been lured far into the woods, too far to ever return.
“What the fuck did you do, you unhinged maniac?” The sentence falls from Husk’s mouth, fear surging forth at all possible answers.
“Hm, can’t a man pursue a hobby, my sweet Husker?”
“Your hobby is dismembering people, what other ungodly thing could you ever— “
Husk’s knees threaten to fail him, his bicolored wings flutter for balance sending feathers everywhere.
Sigils of Domination…
The heart, the blade, his blood, the incantations still echoing in his ears.
Everlasting Binding Rites.
“You… !” He accuses, slack-jawed. “What did you do… ?!”
Alastor follows after him, already put together. “What needed to be done… ” He states plainly, slowly standing at full height.
“You have truly lost it.” Husk’s fur stands on end, searching for a quick exit.
“ …To tie you to me.”
An unnamable force deep within Husk answers, completely alien to him in his hundred years of existence. He bites his tongue to keep the whimper from escaping, failing as he senses Alastor stepping closer. Can feel the heat rolling off the radio host in waves. The air around him turns hot and unbearable.
“You’ve lost the bet, my dear Husker.“
A pair of long red tipped crimson talons takes hold of Husk’s lower abdomen, guiding him toward the hearth’s scorching conspiratory light.
He witnesses a curious phantom glow appear just above his sex, where a woman’s womb would be.
From it, melting arousal is born anew - a pool of warmth bubbles up from the pit of his core, the ripples of its effect thrum through every reach of his body. Husk watches in rapt attention as intricate lines curve and intertwine with one another forming a symmetrical pattern which in turn form a figure, a rune, and finally:
A sigil.
“And now you’re mine.” The radio magus finalizes with possessive joy.
Husk’s chest moves up and down at the blasphemous sight, eyes glazed over not quite believing what has been done onto him. Tears well at the corner of his eyes, his pride and dignity as a heathen being stripped from him, leaving him vulnerable to the will of this sadistic conniving monster born from the void…
“What’s wrong, dear!” His new owner coos, a theatrical concern as he cups the demon’s face, bewitched at the sight of his misery. “Are you not content?’
He pushes off him, wipes the tears with his forearm before speaking again, “Like fuck I am! Undo this right fucking now or I swear to Lucifer, I will— “
A rough yank of a suddenly physical manacle appears around his neck as his entire body is pulled against the no longer smiling man.
“You’ll what?” Alastor hisses through grit teeth. “There is not a single thing you can do. I won the bet fair and square. You would have done the same had your mind not always been so alcohol addled.” And then mocking laughter, “You have no one to blame but yourself!”
“You're damn right I would have - I’m a fucking demon! But not… not like this!” He shouts, voice breaking, pushing against the solid chest before him, but the grip remains unyielding.
He hates himself for feeling hurt..
Betrayed.
“Oh-hoho! I didn’t know you possessed principles, Husker, how adorable! But truly, does it not make more sense you stay by my side when I’m the one who taught you all about the pleasures of human carnal desire? Why letting a miserable waste of space have you just wouldn’t do!!” The manacle is finally released.
His body gives in - only to be hoisted up to be carried the same way he was back on the night of his Summoning, Alastor goes so far as to spin in a playful dance with a cheerful hum. Every part he touches runs Husk’s skin ablaze. The thrill from it is far worse than liquor. Twice as addictive.
"I’ll rip your throat out as soon as I get the chance.”
Alastor merely laughs, laughs and laughs.
His perfect set of teeth turn sharp and angled with every step toward the darkness of his room, where dark secrets are forever kept. His form, a contrast of shadows and sharp angles silhouetted by the dim light of the moon entering from outside.
“You're welcome to try!” Comes an unsettling radio static voice.
The winged demon shudders in his captor's arms, beholding the black sun of his persona.
.
General Notes: Concocted because of one very cute request over on twitter when I posted fanart of this very concept. I was going for an eldritch vibe but unsure how successful that is when the horror element comes from the human instead of the heathen being. Also thank you for suspending your disbelief as Husk's ability to give sloppy top without hurting Al lmao
Also sorry for any types I am my own beta reader. And comments are very appreciated ❤️
