Chapter 3 – Charlie POV
My knees sank deeper into the mattress, elbows trembling as Alastor's weight pressed me down from behind. The new angle was devastating. Every savage thrust dragged against that sensitive spot inside me until my vision sparkled with golden flecks. I was still riding the aftershocks of the last orgasm when another began building, low and insistent, fueled by the relentless drag of his thickened cock stretching me open. The glowing green handprint on my ass burned pleasantly, a mark of possession that sent fresh heat spiraling through my core.
*He thinks I'm faking it,* the thought looped miserably even as my body clenched greedily around him again. I could hear it in the distorted snarl of his radio voice, feel it in the way his shadow tentacles tightened like restraints rather than caresses. If only I could speak clearly, tell him that every moan ripping from my chest was real, that the way I was soaking his length wasn't performance but raw need. But guilt kept the words lodged behind my teeth. Vaggie was downstairs right now, probably pacing the lobby, believing I was negotiating terms or reviewing paperwork. Instead I was here, face buried in Alastor's pillows that smelled of ozone and antique woodsmoke, coming apart for the sixth time while my heart twisted itself into knots.
Another static burst crackled outward from his skin. It danced along my spine like living electricity, making my nipples tighten against the ruined sheets. The power rolling off him was heavier than I remembered from the day he first arrived—stronger, wilder, as if something fundamental had snapped free inside him. The chains I used to sense whenever our deal activated were simply absent. No cold pull, no invisible collar. Just pure, humming strength that made the air itself feel charged. It terrified me as much as it thrilled me.
"Alastor, wait—please—" The words finally broke free on a gasp, but he took them as protest. His clawed hand fisted tighter in my hair, yanking my head back so the mirror reflected my flushed, tear-streaked face back at me. My eyes were wide, pupils blown with pleasure, lips swollen and parted on constant desperate sounds. I looked like someone lost in ecstasy, because I was. Another tentacle found my clit, this one pulsing with that strange new static that vibrated at a frequency perfectly tuned to drive me insane.
The orgasm slammed into me without mercy. My scream echoed off the walls as my walls spasmed hard around his invading length, fresh slick gushing out with every brutal snap of his hips. The pleasure was so intense my legs gave out completely; only his grip and the shadows kept me upright while wave after wave crashed through me. Through the haze I heard something odd beneath the radio static—a fleeting, distorted snippet of a young man's voice shouting "Scott!" followed by the distant howl of wolves. It vanished as quickly as it came, leaving me blinking in confusion even as my body continued to milk him rhythmically.
He growled louder, the sound warping into dissonant brass instruments. "Still acting, are we? Even now?" The anger in his tone cut deeper than the pleasurable sting of his claws. He sounded genuinely wounded beneath the broadcast veneer, and that only made my conflicted heart ache worse. I tried to shake my head, to tell him no, that I was enjoying this far more than I should, that my body had never responded like this to anyone, but he chose that moment to grind deep and stay there, rotating his hips in a slow circle that nudged every oversensitive nerve.
It triggered yet another peak. I sobbed into the pillow as my seventh climax tore through me, shorter but sharper, leaving me shaking and gasping. My thighs were a slick mess, muscles twitching uncontrollably. The guilt about Vaggie burned hotter than the pleasure now, yet it somehow twisted together until I couldn't separate them. I loved her. I loved what the hotel stood for. But this deal with Alastor had awakened something hungry inside me that refused to stay quiet.
Without warning he pulled out, only to flip me onto my back again. I caught a glimpse of his face—smile too wide, eyes flickering between crimson and that strange amber hue I'd noticed earlier. His antlers had grown massive, filling the canopy with jagged shadows. The power increase was unmistakable; the room itself seemed to pulse with it. He slid back inside me in one smooth motion, deeper than before thanks to whatever boost he carried, and resumed a punishing rhythm that had the bedframe splintering.
"Look at me," he commanded, voice layered with static and something almost pleading underneath. I did. Our eyes locked and for a heartbeat I saw past the Radio Demon—saw frantic intelligence, saw loyalty sharp enough to die for, saw a soul that felt brand new inside this old body. My hands reached up of their own accord, fingers tangling in his red hair just below the antlers. The touch seemed to startle him. His pace faltered, hips stuttering as his own release finally built.
I came one last time at the sight of his control cracking, inner muscles fluttering wildly around him. The moan that left me was soft, genuine, filled with affection I hadn't meant to reveal. "It's real," I whispered brokenly, hoping he would finally hear it. "This… you… it's real."
His eyes widened. The radio filter glitched hard, broadcasting a single clear note of surprise in an unfamiliar young male timbre before snapping back. Then he was spilling inside me with a snarled static burst that shorted every light in the room. Heat flooded my core as he throbbed and pulsed, hips jerking erratically while his shadows writhed around us both. The sheer volume of it pushed me into a gentle, rolling aftershock that left me limp and glowing.
For several long seconds the only sound was our ragged breathing and the low hum of residual static. His weight settled over me, careful despite the anger still radiating from him. I could feel his heart—strange that the Radio Demon had one—pounding against my chest. The broken chains inside him left an absence that felt like freedom, like possibility. Like danger.
He pulled back just enough to study my face, smile fixed in place but eyes stormy. I wanted to say more, to explain the guilt and the pleasure and how they braided together, but his expression told me he still didn't believe me. The misunderstanding sat between us like a live wire.
Downstairs, faint voices drifted up—new sinners arriving at the hotel doors, Angel Dust's laughter, the distant clink of bottles. The real work of our deal was about to begin. But here, tangled in his sheets with his release slowly leaking down my thighs, I wondered how long I could keep balancing on this knife's edge before everything cut too deep.
Alastor's claws traced my jaw almost tenderly, at odds with the fury still crackling in his aura. "The night's performance is concluded, my dear," he said lightly, though the radio tone couldn't hide the edge. "For now."
I closed my eyes, body humming with satisfaction and heart heavy with everything unsaid, already dreading how much more complicated this deal was going to become.