The Girl // Alastor x OC

Just a Taste

Alastor had been watching the girl all night. He'd been sitting at the bar for hours — happily alone, thanks to his gruesome reputation as the Radio Demon — and nursing his whiskey. He'd come to the club to hear the live band, playing some of his absolute favorite jazz numbers from his time amongst the living.

The girl had long black hair that was swept up into a low up-do at the nape of her neck. A few strands had fallen out to frame her face. She wore a deep blue dress and her eyes were as dark as the night sky. In the hours he had been here, she had not once left the dance floor. She danced with reckless abandon, sometimes with a partner and other times alone, letting the music guide her body's movements.

Alastor wasn't sure why he watched her — something about her just drew his attention. Every time she slipped away into the crowd, he would scan it impatiently until he found her again. Eventually, he tired of sitting. It had been so long since he'd been able to enjoy a dance. A downside of being one of the most feared demons in hell? It didn't excite others to be his partner. Mimzy was always happy to dance with him, but he hadn't heard from her in months. He was sure she'd pop up sometime, but for now, he was on his own.

Alastor stood, leaving some bills on the bar to cover his drink, and began weaving through the crowd. Most of the wretched souls there made sure to give him a wide berth, but continued their dancing. Finally, he found her. She was alone for this song, eyes closed, letting her body move with the music. Alastor approached her, waiting for her to notice him.

After a moment, her eyes opened, widening at the sight of him standing in front of her, a wicked smile on his face. A small bubble of space had formed around them. "Hello!" Alastor exclaimed. "I am Alastor. It is a pleasure to be meeting you, quite a pleasure!" He said with a small bow. "And what lovely lady am I addressing?"

Her eyes darted around quickly, realizing she had no easy way out of the situation. "V-Violet," she stammered. She took a steadying breath. "My name is Violet," she tried again, sounding more sure of herself.

"Well, Violet, it would be an absolute honor if I could have this next dance," he replied, offering his hand to her.

Surprise crossed her face, but she recovered quickly. She silently took his hand just as the next song started to play, and Alastor immediately swung her into an elaborate partner's dance. As their skin touched, however, he felt a shock course through him. Heat flooded him, flushing his cheeks, and it wasn't from the exertion. Every time he felt her body move beneath his hands, his own reacted, longing for more.

The feeling immensely unsettled him, and for the first time he could remember he missed a step in his dance, tripping them both up. He reflexively caught the girl to prevent her from falling, but then dropped her hands like they had burned him.

"What's wrong?" the girl asked him, concern in her eyes.

Alastor straightened himself, noting the eyes of the crowd on him. "Oh, it's nothing my dear, just a bit of water on the floor! Now, I do so apologize for the abrupt departure, but I must be off!" He immediately dissipated into his shadows, coalescing in an alley outside the bar, alone. He breathed as he waited for his body to calm itself, but he couldn't get the memory of the girl out of his mind.

Alastor gazed down at the girl...Violet...as she slept in his bed. She was naked, the sheets pulled down enough to expose her breasts and his seed still dried on them from the night before. He had found his pleasure on her exquisite body every day since their visit to Rosie. It gave him immense satisfaction to walk around Hell with her by his side, thoroughly marked in a way no other soul would see but himself.