Chapter Text
When Velvette mounts him, there is a brief, glorious moment where Alastor believes that they are in this together. Young as she is, she has made her presence well and truly known across the pentagram. Velvette is not attracted to men and thus will not be attracted to him. They are dually incompatible.
Despite this, her legs are splayed across his chest, the plastic tipped points of her knees digging in. The rich canvas of her skin is searingly warm, but the pain and heat are grounding, soothing even. It drowns out the perverse squelch of Valentino's submission and the rough pants of Vox's overcompensation.
He looks up at her, tilting his head without baring his neck, trying to assess the situation. She's still half-dressed, but again, only half. The array of silk that she has chosen for the night bode well for his remaining innocence. He can play this angle, build a mutual understanding before she acts out this performance to her compatriots.
He licks his lips, "You don't, ah, men aren't exactly-." He moves to gesture, but all it does is send a wriggling motion, grinding where she has connected them. She follows him, lazily, almost calculating. The drag of her skin is smooth, not necessarily wet, but without the normal friction. She is bird-light and well balanced and every piece of her has been lovingly assembled by a woman's hands.
"Babe, you think I care?" Velvette's arm plops down lazily as she leans forward. Her back arches and it's impressive, truly, that their noses can almost touch. Her breath puffs against his lips as she whispers conspiratorialIy "I fuck these two losers weekly."
His brain and heart stutter in tandem. "... you what?"
He's trying to focus. Her fingers are drawing lines on his chest, scritching at the tender line where fur meets flesh. It is a nauseating kind of mercy. Behind them, he watches Vox choke on Valentino's winding tongue, bright blue errors flashing all across his face.
"Hey!" She snaps her fingers and it rings out like a shot in his sensitive ear which immediately pins back. Her fingers, needle sharp prick into him as she tugs it back up. "Listen."
He can't listen, not when Vox's gag is interrupted by the deep moan rumbling in his chest. Valentino has sunken his fingers deep between gills and the twisting motion leaves Alastor helplessly transfixed.
It is obscene and deranged and Vox is moaning like he is on camera. His whole body shivers with some combination of agony and pleasure as his feet press against the padded surface, scrambling. Val sinks them both down, body looming like some sort of nightmarish illusion and smoke hangs heavy in the air as he supports the weight of both their forms. Vox tugs, hard, against him as his cock slips nearly all the way out, whining in dismay. It turns into a sick gurgle as something beyond the edge of Alastor's vision presses wholesale against the inside of Vox's throat, bulging it obscenely. His fans whine, fighting desperately to push air out of the slits left around Valentino's fingers.
"Fu-hh-mm" he attempts before trailing off into a tearful convulsion that rolls Val's eyes back in ecstasy. His cock, left untouched between them, wheezes out a dribble of shining, radiant blue in time with his breaths.
There is a slick sound as Alastor's own body is overwhelmed by heat and wetness and he jerks wildly as clawed hands gently circle around his cheeks. It feels like he is burning and being caged in and like describing it will undo him. She is tight and eager and- oh god she's asking him a question.
●••●••──•V•──••●••●
For all his worldly time as the radio demon, it is becoming increasingly clear to Velvette that Alastor might be a virgin. Blech.
His wide doe eyes stare up in the abject shock of a man who is about to be killed and reborn in the sluttiest way possible. God, his fucking lashes. Velvette's going to steal that shape for her next product line- maybe she should make a whole line of unfairly blessed radio demon cosmetics.
She has half a mind to do up his makeup now, pin him back by the ears and make that expression match the aesthetic. Nobody should look this cute, but if he's going to then that could mean she's about to discover something incredibly fun.
"Are you gonna be good for me?" She punctuates the words with a sinuous motion and then sits back, waiting. His muscles are coiled tense and his teeth grind in an unpleasant clench. Unfortunately, the twitch of his cock is not nearly so controlled.
She walks her fingers down his chest and his eyes track in slow motion, stuttering like an old camera. "I-"
She sighs, heavily, then backhands him. It would be anticlimactic if the bleat he makes in response were any less adorable. “Do you want me to make you be good?”
His eyes are half lidded and a single tooth emerges to toy at his lower lip. He looks coy like this, as though he's been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Ah-” very softly, the radio flips through channels. “I don't know-”
Velvette rolls her hips and he chokes, hard. “Need me to think for you?”
His eyes slide shut in relief and it sends a cold spark of annoyance down her spine.
“Nuh uh!” She digs her clawed fingers, deep. “you're gonna answer me. I am NOT fucking a dead fish.”
He jolts, startled, and almost abashed if she's reading this shit right. His eyes laser in on the bright blood that now drips toward his collarbone, “mm-”
She claws in deeper, tilting her hips up in a way that leaves his cock glistening in the cool air, “If you say anything but yes ma'am, right now, I'm going to-”
“Yes.” He wiggles in abject misery “yes, yes, yes, -m Sorry”
From across the room, Valentino laughs, “If you're really sorry, call her mamí… She likes that.”
Alastor fixes her with the most bedraggled, desperate, pitiful look she has ever seen in her life. Lips bloody and ears flattened back softly, he draws in a shaky breath, “...I can be good.”
Valentino fixes him with a hard look, “You can be good, what?”
“I can be your good boy, mamí.” His accent doesn't sound quite the same, slipping on the edge of french rather than spanish, but the warmth that it sends down her spine is unfair and frankly fucking unbelievable. Despite the moisture that has quickly begun its slide down her thigh, Velvette steadies her gaze, analyzing because Alastor looks nothing like she thought he would. His spine is languid, turning liquid by the second. A heady blush burns right up to where his cheeks meet that teddy-bear soft fur. He looks, fuck, he looks like he trusts her to take care of him.
She laughs, fisting his hair in one hand and resteadying herself with the other, “Yeah, you fucking bet youre gonna be.”
●••●••──•V•──••●••●
To be totally honest, Valentino should've clocked this. Affiliation with Rosie, notwithstanding, Alastor has always been a self-proclaimed respecter of women. Valentino knows the type, was the type once, and maybe still is for the only girl he actually cares to listen to.
This is, of course, Velvette, his delightful little firecracker who is currently in the process of soft launching the concept of an oral fixation to Alastor.
Her eyes are hard with focus as she slips her fingers into his mouth, but Val knows that gooey softness anywhere, has been subject to it.
She's about to dismantle him so thoroughly that he'll be lucky to remember his own name.
●••●••──•V•──••●••●
It starts with the slick squelch of Velvette's body engulfing him again, of her chest bearing down to press softly against his own as she shakes. For a few awkward moments, she just sits there, face pressed close, sharing breath. Then she reaches out and pulls forward to kiss him, hips rolling.
She tastes like cinnamon coffee and clove cigarettes. Her mouth is soft against his own, soothing even. He thought she might be cold, despite the warmth at her core, but her mouth burns just as bright. He laps, curiously, obediently, uncertain and he can feel her smile as she guides him.
The angle they're at now is almost relieving, really. The motion of her body is less aggressive like this and she rocks more than bounces, evidently finding an angle that must hit just right (if the way she stutters and moans has any say in it). He does his best to help, circling his hips with hers and unclenching taut fingers to help support her torso.
She pulls back, a lewd strand of spit dangling between them. Her lips twist in a grin as her head cocks, “Are you helping me right now, Bambi?”
Words evade him, so he just nods, doing his best to keep pace as her body clenches around him.
Velvette's eyes gleam like marbles, “You're soooooo cute! …keep going.”
His head bobs again and he tries to relax into the motion, to be more deliberate and intentional. She rewards him with what is probably an exaggerated moan, “What a good boy, baby! Do you want to help mommy a little more?”
His face is beet colored as he dips in acquiescence.
“Thank god!” Velvette rolls her eyes and flips them and suddenly everything is far more intimidating.
In the dim light, he can see the little pinpricks of blood that have spattered lightly across his chest. She winds her body encouragingly, tugging his head down closer, “C'monnn, you got it.”
He moves, testing the waters. It's easier to position himself now, the cool air encouraging their union. It's disconcerting to loom above her like this; it's the sort of position he would never put himself in.
She rolls her eyes in exasperation at his nervousness, “Hey, look.” She reaches up and cups his face, cradling him as he melts into it. Her eyes are deep and gentle, but authoritative as she searches his face. “Fuck mommy hard, okay?”
The next moments are a blur, interjected only by Valentino's giddy laugh and the sound of Vox's speaker system combusting.
●••●••──•V•──••●••●
Velvette's legs twist behind him, interlocking in a neat tangle over his head, pulling her up off the mattress by just the slightest amount before she loosens them enough to let him get the traction he needs. She grinds her head back hard as he drives forward by pure instinct.
"G- Holy fuck- Good boy. Good boy." She chants it like a prayer and he whines, pressing his face beside where her head has made its indent. Her hands go up to pull at his ears and then higher to root themselves in his antlers. She wails as the pleasure that shoots up his body sends him even deeper, crashing against her walls.
Her nose buries itself just above his ear and he can feel wetness soaking into his hair as she gasps desperately.
"So good for mommy, fuck, you're doing so good" her hands pin his head in place as he blindly thrusts. The ripples around his cock clench tighter and pride roots itself in his gut. His thoughts intersect with her words as sweat pools against tears.
The pressure in his lower belly is scalding, agonizing, but the thought of letting her down, of disappointing her after she's so graciously handed over the reigns is unspeakable.
Alastor's teeth dig into the junction of her shoulder, gentle enough not to tear more than skin and she hisses, but the clench of her body around him feels welcoming.
Velvette tastes sweet and warm, like coming home, like waiting by the stove or the counter in cannibal town. She tastes musky like the sweat after a long days hunt and sweet like the brown sugar clumps that he would sneak off the counter as a child. His face is wet with blood and sweat, but he has never felt safer and something within him just breaks.
He licks apologies into her skin, whining and pressing his nose against her pulse. Her hand cards through his hair, gently pressing through the strands as though they are warm butter.
His body is high-strung, tail flapping out in some combination of fear and arousal. Her fists clench tight around him as she rides out her orgasm, collapsing like jelly beneath him. Her eyes are half lidded as he slides lower, pausing just below her bellybutton to look up cautiously.
When she doesn't move to stop him, he sinks lower to press his face at the crook of her thigh.