More than Anything - Chapter 1

Chapter Text

Melancholia and the blood rain have been Rosie’s constant companions for as long as she could remember. She would look up at the reddening sky, big dark eyes wide with wonder as she watched the blood rain from her bedroom window. She had always been mystified by how much the rain seemed to understand her; how the crimson clouds would glitter with bloody rainbows on her happiest days and burst with a heavy downpour on her worst. Her mother had smiled at her, taken her little hand in her warm one and dressed her all in white, a matching bow in her soft ivory curls.

It was only once she was older that her mother explained it to her. That the rain she adored so much was more tied to her than she could have ever dreamed. On the day of her birth, the very moment she first drew breath did the skies above Pride open forth and let out a never before seen bloody red deluge, only easing when a newborn Rosie had settled in her exhausted mother’s arms.

A blessing her mother had tittered.

A curse her father jested as the rains were so much more than just blood dripping from the sky.

To the sinners the rain is disgusting and messy, whipping the hellborn cannibals into a savage and terrifying frenzy. To Rosie’s people the rain is practically a religious experience. Her people dress all in white to best display the rain’s painting across their flesh and clothes before venturing out into Pentagram City to indulge in their baser instincts.

It is a time for a cannibal to be themselves, to let go of the tightly held reigns of control - as if they had a choice. As any of her kind exposed to the red spray would inevitably fall to its siren song.

The weddings that followed always a happier occasion to celebrate, the rain made them honest and heightened already felt emotions so it hardly surprised Rosie that this time is when her people found true romantic love.

While the concept of soulmates is a silly superstition for the sinners, the cannibals have their beliefs and Rosie despairs as she feels that empty aching sadness in her chest only growing as she ages.

So she clings to her mother’s promise of how Hell would brighten up once she found that other part of her soul. Hoping and daydreaming about the day that the beautiful, red rain would lead her to true happiness. So for years with hopeless romance burning in her breast and the promise that she could feel whole for the first time in her life Rosie tried for years to find that other part of her. Naturally, in her desperation for love and connection, she looked in all the wrong places, in love with the idea of love, of what her parents had.

Her first husband was all sweet and chivalrous right up until he had the ring on her finger. The stupid brute thought their vows were akin to shackles around her throat for what is a marriage if not a contract. He made the mistake of thinking he could control the Overlord of Cannibal Town, and when she defied him he struck her hard enough for her head to split on the coffee table. Rosie struck back harder, ripping his head clean off his shoulders and grilled steaks out of his marbled flesh.

Her second husband was gentler, a romantic like her, she thought he was the one until they were married and his romantic eye began to wander. He broke her heart so she ripped his out of his chest and sautéed it in a red wine roux.

Her third husband is a practical man, his love for her a quiet thing - boring. At first she thought she could be happy with this, a quiet and simple life, the rose tinted glasses she wore blinding her to their incompatibility. The cold hard truth of it had that love die, George turning cruel and indifferent and seeking love elsewhere.

Humiliated Rosie turned a blind eye to his ways, resigning herself to a boring and loveless life, one failed marriage was bad enough but three would seal her reputation forever. She throws herself into her work finding it easier to stay with him and live their separate lives than admit the fact she had terrible taste in men.

And then she met him.

He appears one day in her quiet little town, quite literally stumbling around like a newborn fawn on newfound hooves. Rosie’s sharp smile softens with friendliness, offering the stranger a warm meal and a safe place to rest his head while he adapts to his newfound life. An offer that led to many screaming matches between her and her husband.

But Rosie didn’t care.

The stranger introduces himself to her with all the flair and chivalry of her first husband and the charm and sweetness of her second which has hope sparking in her romantic heart for the first time in years. He is a bright spark and flash of colour in her otherwise dull life. His name is Alastor and his lust for violence and flesh echoes her own sentiments. How rare it is to find someone outside of the colony who is not only unafraid of her tendencies but matches them and encourages her to sink deeper into that instinct. Rosie finds her vigour for life reinvigorated with this beautiful sinner by her side, easily wooed by him and becoming swept up in his orbit, naturally becoming fast friends.

It is only once Alastor has risen up to the rank of Overlord the rain falls again since his arrival. He shocks Rosie by asking to join her in her ventures, interested in witnessing firsthand what the rain does to her kind and specifically her.

So she let him see her, really see her, all that she is; the passion, the violence, the grizzly way she killed with reckless abandon and painted herself in the bright red blood of the sinners she slaughtered. She had panted in the aftermath, vibrant red gore soaking her ivory dress from head to toe, shaken by her animalistic display until her smiling, red friend offered her his hand and pulled her to unsteady feet with ease. He held an open umbrella with his other hand, shielding her from the heavy rain and his lips pressed such a tender kiss to her knuckles that heat flooded to her face. He smiled at her once more, all sharp teeth and reverence in his tone and he murmured the words that have her ruined forever.

“My dear Rosie, how beautiful you are - drenched in red.”

Her heart lurched in her breast and freely gave itself to him at that moment - hopelessly in love with her best friend.

Rosie was only capable of pressing herself against his thin frame, head resting on his shoulder in a gesture he took for fatigue.

“Take me home?” She had asked him, voice soft and reverent.

Alastor nodded against her hair, a warm kiss pecked to her forehead before he offered her his arm while he escorted her safely home. The pair made their way back to Cannibal Town, safe under the protection of his umbrella. Ever the gracious hostess she had offered for him to stay the night, her dear friend accepted even while his sense of honour had him protesting coming into her room. She only smiled at him, reassuring him she only wants his company, a half truth that didn’t taste too much of a lie on her tongue.

They came to rest in the middle of her bed, her head pillowed on his chest as jazz quietly played from within him. A contentment unlike anything she had ever felt seeped into her bones and she wrapped an arm around his waist while nuzzling her cheek against his warmth. She sighed happily as she felt Alastor’s claws gently raking through her blood soaked hair, his cheek pillowing on the crown of her head and the most featherlight kiss pressed to her forehead.

She wished it was her lips.

Finally she was not alone but it was not to last.

Her world came crashing down around her the very next morning, her bed empty and Alastor nowhere to be found in her home or anywhere in Hell. The contentment is crushed in an instant and her breast aches with the agony of her loss. Still she foolishly had hoped he would come back even when the days had bled into weeks, into months and then it had been seven years.

The blood rains are worse than she can ever remember them being, nothing but torrential downpours and violent winds in his absence. Almost as if the rain was echoing the deep wound aching deep inside Rosie’s very psyche. Her agony only compounded when the Radio Demon just appeared one day at an Overlord meeting. He talks to her as if he was never gone, small talk and innocuous things until it's over and Rosie’s heart shatters in her chest when he doesn’t come to see her, only waiting until he needs something from her to seek her company again.

It was only for the lovely princess’ sake that she agreed to help.

Rosie resolves to never love again.

It is only once the battle against Heaven is done, the First Man lying dead outside of the hotel, that the blood rain unexpectedly falls earlier than predicted.

Rosie sighs wearily as she hangs her wide brimmed hat on a hook, the wind outside far too violent to bring it with her. She inspects herself in the full length mirror of her bedroom, brushing down the tulle skirts of her ivory dress. Briefly she wonders why she bothers to make herself beautiful for this. Tradition is one thing but it still hurts to know she will return home bitter and empty while the cannibals pair off around her. Still she is their Overlord and she must be ready to follow her people into the city and protect them from the retribution of sinners too stupid to hide indoors. To her complete surprise, someone is waiting for her outside of her house, a vibrant red umbrella open above his head and shielding her while she closes her door.

“Rosie.” Alastor smiles widely as he waits for her, “There you are, old girl, I was beginning to think you weren’t indulging this time.”

She schools the shock carefully and forces her face into a polite smile, shaking her head lightly dismissively. “Oh no, I was just getting ready.”

“Ah, and quite the lovely picture you make, my dear. Shall we?” He offers his arm to her, ever the gentleman and Rosie accepts, hating herself for just how right it feels to have his arm in hers once more.

The pair walk in relative silence to the city, Rosie sniffing deep the scent of blood in the air, the rain heightening her emotions even as she fights against the urge to give the show that Alastor wants. It’s petty but she is still so angry with him for daring to swan back into her life like nothing changed. Like he hasn’t abandoned her.

“Is everything alright?” He asks her, a concern he no longer has the right to feel bleeding from his scarlet eyes. “It's unlike you to not partake.”

He swallows harshly as Rosie’s fingers coil in his hair once more, meeting her lips in another deep kiss and he gathers his shadow, deciding to just teleport them both to her front door rather than walk.

The rain is relentless even in Cannibal Town, and Rosie has no such awning over her front door to shield them from being soaked to the bone. Yet despite his intentions for coming home with her being significantly less than gentlemanly, Alastor still waits for Rosie to open her own door and invite him inside. She uncharacteristically fumbles with the doorknob, desire and the cold making her fingers clumsy as Alastor drapes himself over her back. His face nuzzles into the junction of her neck and shoulder, tongue snaking out to lap over her neck. The acrid taste of her perfume mingles with the rain and the natural tang of Rosie’s skin and he bathes her exposed pulse point in his scent. Some primal part of him roars to life, seizing the moment as her jaw tilts to offer her throat to him. His teeth clamp down gently, biting into the muscle shallowly, nothing so simple as to just gain access to her blood but to mark and claim his mate.

Her blood hitting his taste buds has him growling softly with delighted contentment as Rosie mewls softly, her backside pressing tantalisingly against the tightness in his groin. The pair practically fall through the open doorway as Rosie finally gets it open, Alastor following behind as her hands pull him in by his lapels, his open mouth capturing her lips for a deep and unyielding kiss.

Neither of them care as the rain pours through the open door, Alastor only moving them as Rosie suddenly loses her footing. He pushes her against the closest wall, relishing her warmth pressing against his chest as she blindly reaches out to slam the door behind her. The deafening rain now a dull roar as the pair stand in her home in the darkness, panting softly and dripping onto the wooden floorboards and soft carpets as the pair stand inside her home.

Alastor leans in and cups her jaw tenderly once more, clawed thumb reverently tracing the plumpness of her blushing cheek. His dark heart skips a beat relishing how easily Rosie leans into his touch, how much she trusts him, her thick dark eyelashes fluttering closed in contentment. He leans into her space, gladdened for their similar heights as his nose brushes against hers in a careful nuzzle. Her soft, joy filled giggle lightens the tightness in his chest as he claims her lips once more. His tongue seeks hers out, stroking the muscle softly as the passion rises between them once more. Her soft groan of pleasure has him pressing his hips needily against hers, their breathing strained as Rosie’s fingers come to rest on his chest. She hovers at his tie, pausing and giving him the chance to stop her before he grabs her by the waist and hauls her into his arms. His heart aches with joy and love as she laughs so happily against his lips, kissing him firmly once more as she undoes his tie and lets the scrap of fabric fall to the floor at their feet.

“What the f*ck!” Comes the angered shout from the darkness.

Rosie jumps in fright while Alastor snarls at the interruption, curling his arm around Rosie’s waist protectively as his smile sharpens.

“George, what are you doing here?“ Rosie begins, dark eyes wide with shock, fingertips gently pressing against her swollen lips.

“I could ask you the very same thing, wife.” The other cannibal snarls furiously, swiftly closing the distance between them and getting in her face. His rage blinded him to the radio demon subtly stepping between the pair, keeping the other man from getting closer to Rosie.

“I knew there was something shifty going on! Sending me away during the rain so you can f*ck this sinner , in my house, you f*cking slu*t!” His meaty hand rises to strike, to beat and cow what he views as his to heel, regardless of his own disinterest in staying faithful to their marriage.

Rosie scarcely has the time to flinch before her husband is sent flying back from her.

“Just when I thought you couldn’t sink lower.” Alastor snarls, his scarlet irises now a pair of malevolent radio dials, his voice filled with static. “You would dare to raise your hand to her in front of me!” His pitch black antlers extend from his head, one clawed hand gently pressing a shell shocked Rosie behind him protectively.

His smile stretches and burns with a sad*stic delight, opening to let forth a deranged cackle, four shadowy tentacles manifesting from his back, one skewering the lesser man like a kebab. Practically salivating as the scent of blood permeates the air, Alastor draws closer to his prey, the static popping and crackling from his chest the only betrayal as to just how furious he is. His teeth sink cleanly and deeply into the meat of George’s neck, Alastor shaking his head like a great white, shredding the flesh and coaxing more and more black blood to spurt in beautiful arcs from the copious wounds. He laughs freely once more as he drops the pathetic man from his tentacle, making a show of crossing back to Rosie’s side. His chest puffs with pride as he observes the attractive blush colouring her cheeks. His clawed hand reaches out to carefully take her hand in his, thumb stroking over her knuckles before he lifts it to his lips and he presses a possessive kiss to her wrist.

Rosie sighs happily at the attention, the shock of what just happened in front of her slowly wearing off as she watches her now ex-husband bleed out in front of her. She smiles as Alastor wraps an arm tightly around her waist, dragging her lithe body easily against his lissom figure. Her breath hitches in her chest as his claws dig into the boning of her corset, further demonstrating his possession of her as he runs his blackened tongue up over her collarbone in a long and sensual lick.

Alastor grins, all teeth and dripping with victory. “Fret not, my dear fellow, I will ensure that darling Rosie is well taken care of in your absence. She is a rare jewel and I will ensure she is treated like the queen she is.” He smiles darkly, leaning in to press another kiss to her throat.

“Oh Alastor.” She sighs wistfully as she presses herself up against his side, her long thick eyelashes fluttering coquettishly as her big soulful eyes gaze up at him with adoration.

“Did I not promise to free you from that brute should he prove unworthy?”

Rosie cannot help but laugh as her lips split in a wide smile, displaying her own razor sharp teeth to match Alastor’s adoring grin. Not even caring to watch as her ex-husband bleeds out in front of her. Instead her focus is on the only man who truly matters to her. Her palm softly strokes over Alastor’s chest, nails gripping his lapel as she pouts up at him for another kiss.

The newfound pair of lovers ignoring the outraged death struggles of the man on the floor, as they trade kisses and soft bites. Rosie eagerly pushes Alastor’s coat from his shoulders, helping him shrug it off, surprised as he takes it from her only to drop it on the floor. His waistcoat is quick to follow, as Rosie can feel a different haze washing over her, the desire for blood being pushed to the back of her mind even as the lingering scent of petrichor begs her to step back outside and indulge in the siren song of the rain. Instead her attention is brought back to the man in front of her, his ears flicking with concern even as he strokes the high points of her cheeks while her claws dig deep furrows into his back, scoring beautiful bloody marks as she sucks in a desperate breath of air - fighting against the red haze.

“Take me to bed, please.” She begs weakly as Alastor returns his attention to her neck, biting down only hard enough to draw a small trickle of her black blood, all eagerly lapped up by his hungry tongue. He hauls her gently into his arms, claws gripping firmly to the flesh of her thighs, coaxing them to wrap tightly around hips so he doesn’t drop her. Rosie distracts him from his task of carrying her as she cups his jaw between her palms. Her thumbs stroking gently over the smooth tanned skin, spreading red in little circles and pressing another desperate kiss to his lips.

Alastor spares a cursory glance down at the now corpse of her ex-husband, the delight and power that grips his chest, fit to have him ready to burst with glee. He hums with consideration, what a meal they will make of him.

“Alastor, we can eat him later.” Rosie promises, trailing featherlight caresses over his cheek to coax him back to her. Her desire is building uncomfortably hot and aching between her legs, her hips bucking of their own accord, desperately seeking relief for her heated body against the firm lines of his body.

His ears flick briefly before he nods, ensuring his grip is secure before he turns from the carnage to take the stairs leading to her bedroom. Whether or not George still shared her bed is irrelevant as Alastor has every intention of forcing every indignity into the repugnant man’s legacy that he can. Making love to the man’s wife as the final dagger of betrayal a sweeter victory than he could ever imagine. Finally, his lady is free of the vile cretin, beholden to no one else. His only hope is that she will see this murder as a gift to her, better than any measly handpicked weeds he sees other sinners offering to each other.

He pushes open the curtain with one hand, carefully manoeuvring them inside before he is biting back a groan as Rosie’s sharp teeth make their home in his neck and her clever tongue lapping away the blood before it is lost to his shirt. He hears more than sees her heels clacking against the floorboards, her weight suddenly gone and deeply missed from his arms. Alastor bleats with surprise as he finds his back suddenly shoved against Rosie’s wardrobe, the scent of roses filling his nose as he finds his mouth filled with her tongue. He likes this side of her, contrasting beautifully with the gentile and soft way she usually interacted with him. Still her desire doesn’t make him uncomfortable like so many others have, Rosie only gives as much as she is willing to take, and he enjoys not having to hold back with her. She is no blushing virgin or sheltered prude, she is his equal in so many ways; unafraid of bloodshed, cannibalism and old-fashioned like himself. As if demonstrating his ideals, Rosie fumbles with his buttons, her claws slipping and slicing cleanly through the tiny threads and half of them fall unceremoniously to the carpet below their feet before she just rips it off him.

“I’ll repair it I promise.” She murmurs, almost sounding drunk with how desperate she is to bare more of him to her, his shirt only makes it to his elbows before her palms are gliding over his flesh. They are so soft and gentle as they run through where the fur is thickest below his collarbone. A soft noise of delight leaves her black painted lips as she explores him further.

“You’re so beautiful, darlin’.” She murmurs reverently, her accent thicker as her arousal builds, leaning into him to press a warm kiss above his heart.

Alastor, surprising even himself as the feelings coursing through his body from her touch are not the anticipated revulsion that usually occurs but instead he indulges in the impulse to keep touching her. To peel away each layer shielding her from him and satiate his lustful appetites on her flesh.

“As are you,” He assures her, reaching back out, following his greedy impulses as the urge builds in his groin. “If it must be anyone I am glad you are my exception.”

Rosie’s romantic heart lurches in her breast at his words, daring to hope that perhaps this would mean, for her at least, that it was in fact fourth times the charm.

“I’m honoured you think of me that way, Alastor. I never dreamed you might share these feelings.”

“It all feels so strange,” He confesses in the sliver of space between them. “I feel like I want to devour you, peel back your flesh, search under each muscle and bone to your very core, to know that intimate part of you. The part no one else has touched.”

Rosie’s breath hitches with adoration and desire, her belly cramping tightly and she presses her thighs together to help ease the ache. She gleefully accepts the kiss that is pressed to her lips, scarcely able to believe this is real and not some fantasy she imagined in her loneliness.

To Alastor this night is a natural conclusion to a puzzle he has long been trying to solve. That connecting piece that has held him back from understanding his feelings, the revelation only occurring when Rosie demanded he leave her. The thought of being separated from her once more too painful to even consider as a possibility. His greatest fear is that one day, far too soon, that his chain will be pulled and he will have no choice but to break the heart Rosie all but gave him on a silver platter.

He wants to make this night special, something to prove his devotion to her, a memory she can recall as proof of his feelings for her. Rosie always told him actions spoke the truth so tonight he would show her his truth.

After all, it is Rosie who truly knows him, underneath the painted on smile and honeyed words, only she had ever seen the dark heart of him and still wanted more. Not to possess or tame or use but to enjoy his life with him.

His scarlet eyes are alight with a new found desire as he looks over her sodden and trembling figure, taking a moment to drink her all in, to burn this moment into his memory forever. Her white, perfectly coiffed hair has been dyed a pinkish hue by the rain, dark clots clinging to the curling ends and dripping pink onto her bare collarbones. Her neck is the cleanest part of her, his throat runs dry as he recalls how eagerly he lapped the mingling iron droplets of rain and her blood off her soft, warm skin. Yet her pristine ivory dress is in ruins from both the rain and his own desperate clawing. The fine fabric has turned tight and dyed a diluted scarlet from the rain, the lines of her traditional underwear easily seen in the dim light of the room. She sucks in a shaky breath as he lifts his hands to brush against her shoulders, turning her around to unbutton the delicate row of pearls tracing along her spine.

Rosie shivers as his lips return to her neck, biting a deep, claiming mark into her pale flesh, stoking the arousal bubbling pleasantly in the pit of her stomach. The cool air of her bedroom suddenly meets her bare skin, gooseflesh breaking out over her body as her dress plummets unceremoniously coming to rest in a sodden pile that she leaves her shoes in as she steps out of them too.

Alastor reaches around her back to fumble with the ties of her corset, made all the more difficult by Rosie turning in his arms to watch his face, fingers reaching out to curl in his fine hair while he disrobes her. She studies his face carefully, brow furrowing slightly as she hopes he will not be disappointed, that his ardour will not die once he sees all that she is.

“You are the most striking woman in hell, my dear.” He whispers fervently, a knowing glint in his eye. Her shoulders relax at his words, his gentle affirmations relieving the knot of anxiety in her belly.

Rosie watches as Alastor’s smile grows strained with frustration, having never unlaced a corset before, only to gasp in delight when he unceremoniously lets go of the strings. His claws hook under the laces and slit the knotted stays holding the demon bone tight around her ribs. He doesn’t stop there, claws slashing the thin straps of her chemise, dark red eyes greedily drinking in her half naked form as her body is bared for him.

“I should have known you’d be charming here too.” Rosie smiles, uncaring of her ruined underwear as she flings it and away from her, letting him take his time to look at her.

She giggles as he scoops her up once more, carrying her to her bed and setting her down reverently on top of the covers and easily settles himself between her parted thighs. Rosie draws him into another kiss, soothing his nerves as she strokes her palm down his spine, arching him into her, relishing the solid weight of him between her legs. She carefully begins work on his belt, kissing his nose as she hears his shoes hit the floorboards, pleased at his enthusiasm.

“I don’t know what to do.” He grits out as her hand slips down his pants and lightly curls around his hardened co*ck, shuddering bodily at the white hot bolt of arousal that burns and swirls in his groin.

“Shh,” She soothes as she licks up a bead of sweat trailing down his temple. “I’ll teach you.”

“I want to know everything.” He moans sharply and bucks into her hand, so very responsive and honest. His hands glide along her stocking clad legs, plucking carefully at the elastic of her garter belt, a frustrated noise escaping him when he cannot find an easy way to remove it and he just rips it off her. “I want to know you.”

Rosie’s breath hitches as the slickness between her legs builds, rutting her core against the firm lines of his body, grinding her blood engorged flesh against him until Alastor’s claws settle on her hips. He easily slits the sides of her underwear, gripping the ruined fabric and throwing it over his shoulder into the darkened bedroom. Rosie squeals with delighted surprise as Alastor drags her under his wiry frame, leaning over her fully and pressing so perfectly against her. Her thighs automatically part and drape her long legs over his hips, opening herself up fully to him.

“I want to ruin you.” He growls against the shell of her ear, biting the lobe teasingly, lapping up the bead of black blood he coaxes to the surface.

Rosie gasps at the sudden declaration, ebony eyes wide with adoration, an attractive blush colouring her cheeks as she clutches to Alastor. Her claws rake down the perfect curvature of his spine, relishing his bodily shudder and the way he presses needily against her. She lunges up to kiss him only to have her kiss land on the top of his head as Alastor takes initiative and begins leaving a weeping trail of bloody bites down her throat.

“Please do.” She sighs, moaning deeply, her fingers coiling in his hair to reposition him at her breasts. To her surprise Alastor doesn’t need further instruction or hints, his lips and tongue working in tandem to tease and coax her glistening nipples to hardness. Rosie shudders bodily, moaning and sighing as Alastor gluts himself on her flesh and blood. Her hips buck involuntarily and she rubs her needy c*nt against his clothed co*ck, allowing herself to indulge in the moment while Alastor grunts and growls with desire.

Rosie startles, lost in pleasure, when Alastor’s naked erection glides against her soft, wet c*nt. The pleasureable glide of flesh on flesh has Rosie clutching to his neck, dragging him down for another blood filled kiss. He doesn’t shy away from her passion, his gaze determined as he grips himself in one hand, the other stilling her hips as he lines himself up and the head of his co*ck brushing tantalisingly against her opening.

“Slowly.” She gasps, draping her arms loosely over his shoulders, using every ounce of her self control to not move too much and make it harder for him.

Rosie cannot help but arch her back as she is so perfectly filled, soft cries leaving her throat as the burn and stretch proves painful after all these years of fidelity to her feelings for him.

“I’m hurting you.” He frets, making moves to separate them, worry clear in his red eyes. She doesn’t let him, legs lifting and wrapping around his hips, forcing the last few inches inside her. Rosie shrieking and shuddering as her body adjusts to the intrusion.

“No, no, darlin’, it's just… It's been a long time. I’m okay.” She promises, kissing his lips sweetly until he relaxes in her arms and starts rocking gently. “You’re doing so well.”

“Just - need a minute.” He grits out, burying his face in the junction of her neck and shoulder, shuddering and doing everything in his power to not spill in her then and there like some pathetic teenaged boy.

Satisfied with his answer, Rosie drops her legs back to their previous position, waiting for Alastor to be ready before doing anything more adventurous than gently tracing her nails up and down the curvature of his spine. Her pitch black eyes flutter closed as he pulls her into an unhurried kiss, one hand leaving his back to gently cup his cheek. Her heart is ready to burst out of her chest with pure happiness as the pair trade gentle kisses, revelling in the moment.

Rosie gasps into his mouth as Alastor’s claws skitter down her flank, tickling her ribs. She giggles sweetly, feeling the slickness of his teeth suddenly against her blackened lips as he smiles. Warmth blossoms between them as Rosie automatically spreads her thighs wider around his hips, greedy for more of him even as she waits patiently for him to be ready.

She mewls when Alastor rolls his hips experimentally, grinding against the soft wetness at the apex of her thighs, his claws suddenly catching her hips as he finally begins to move.

He’s a f*cking natural.

She manages to think around the sensations he coaxes throughout her entire body; her soft c*nt stuffed to the brim with his hot erection, her nerve ending dancing at the solid, pleasurable burn of his co*ck dragging so perfectly against her insides. She can feel every inch of him thrumming inside her, the pleasure pain of her c*nt being used so well by him pooling in her belly. Rosie moans deeply with each push of his co*ck deep inside her and sighs with every slow, dragging pull before she is filled again.

While his rhythm lacks the finesse of someone practised in the carnal arts Rosie cannot find it within herself to care. Easily surrendering herself over to the romance of the moment and the liquid heat swirling in her gut as Alastor attempts to find a pace that works well for both of them.

“Feels so good, dear.” She promises him, pitch black eyes boring into his scarlet, grinning toothily with encouragement as Alastor gains confidence in this new dance of theirs and finds his rhythm.

He leans over her on his elbows, thrusting harder and deeper, the head of his co*ck smacking against her cervix occasionally and the pain fuels the animalistic desire driving them. Rosie, never more glad for her years of chastity so she could be on par with her virginal lover and finally consummate a relationship endorsed as true love by the blood rain. She sighs and moans prettily in his ear, rolling her hips to meet his thrusts within her body, as the pleasure coils and winds tight, coming close to org*sm faster than she has in her entire life.

Her claws bite into his bicep and his shoulder as she clutches to him, her abdomen clenching tight with pleasure at the determination and affection reflecting in his beautiful eyes.

Rosie is a mess beneath him, gasping and crying out as she is so perfectly ravaged. She squirms on her back as the head of his co*ck so lusciously drags against her soaked inner walls, Alastor seeking out her sweet spot and hitting it out of pure instinct. Her nails score the flesh of his thin shoulders and upper back, the crimson lines weeping and dripping onto her sweat slickened chest.

The truth of the bond welling between them is undeniable.

Her throat constricts, Rosie swallowing around the lump that forms as her eyes itch, completely overwhelmed and scarcely able to believe this is real. That this is no fantasy, this is her Alastor, her dearest friend and other half; his sweat-dampened skin flush against hers, his breath hot on her face as they trade frantic kisses and his co*ck buried deep inside her, threatening to ruin her forever as they make love.

Her vision blurs with tears as Alastor gazes down at her with such naked adoration she cannot help but lung up to kiss him desperately. Their lips and tongues dance together, sharing the blood in their mouths as a binding promise between the two to be together forever. How she wishes she could bottle this moment hung between them; full of lust and love. The culmination of their feelings for each other is so tender and beautiful it almost hurts to be held in such high esteem by him.

It is over all too quickly, Rosie crying out as her org*sm crashes over her, thighs clamping tight around his hips as wave after wave of mind numbing pleasure leaves her shaking in Alastor’s arms. The tight squeeze of her c*nt around his co*ck has her lover bucking suddenly with a strangled cry, fighting to push himself as deep as he can within her contracting walls. Rosie groans happily as she feels the sudden burst of warmth within her signalling Alastor’s climax, the force of it leaving his body trembling, arms giving out and she eagerly catches her lover as he goes boneless in her arms.

Her cheeks feel hot with a hue of her namesake, breathing harshly as her lungs burn with the exertion as Rosie cradles Alastor so gently against her breast. Her lips purse and press a flurry of kisses to the crown of his dishevelled head, between his pitch black antlers. She giggles as his expressive ears twitch and wriggle from the stimulation of sex and her tender affections. Her heart is bursting with happiness as Alastor settles in his newfound home with his face buried between her breasts. She moans quietly as a rush of wetness splatters between their thighs as his softening co*ck slips free of her, further defiling her hopelessly blood stained stockings.

The afterglow is a perfection Rosie doesn’t want to end; Alastor not immediately rolling off her to his own side of the bed. Her friend who usually cannot stand being touched by so many clinging to her still and seeking comfort in her embrace. A soft smile curls the ends of her lips as Rosie sighs with contentment alongside the quiet rumbling static emanating from Alastor’s chest. Equally unwilling to separate from him even as the fur on his chest begins to stick to her own overheated, damp skin. Instead she strokes the pads of her fingers over the velvety softness at the back of his ear and hums a nonsensical turn under her breath. She co*cks her head towards her large window, watching as the blood rain calms to a temperate drizzle, synchronised with her own calming heartbeat.

She presses a warm kiss to his head as Alastor turns his to rest more comfortably on her chest, the static in his chest growing fainter as he begins to drift off to sleep. The bone deep weariness seeping into the pair after the tense emotions of the day and Rosie cannot find it within herself to move him off of her. Instead she grasps the now rumpled throw blanket at the foot of her bed, uncaring if it becomes as ruined as her other bedding from the fluids covering them both. She carefully drapes it gently over her love, chuckling as he mumbles softly, scarlet eyes snapping open in an attempt to stay awake.

“Shh, don’t fight it.” She murmurs soothingly, scratching gently at that spot on his ear that has him melting into her once more. Alastor only grumbles once halfheartedly as his arms wrap tighter around her thin waist before he drifts off to sleep.

Thank you.

Rosie prays to whatever higher power who had granted her this moment, burning the image of Alastor sleeping on her bare chest in post-coital exhaustion into her mind before she settles back against her pillows.

Here he lies; her best friend, her rain chosen lover and the other half of her soul finally returned to her. Rosie presses another possessive kiss to his forehead, tenderly sweeping his fringe out of his face as she resolves to never let him go again.

She stays awake a bit longer, continuing to stroke over Alastor’s ears, her other hand resting protectively around his shoulders. Her dark eyes droop sleepily and she yawns quietly, while she contentedly watches the rain splatter against her bedroom windows. Her heart aches with the intensity of her love for the infamous demon dozing peacefully in her arms, a few crystalline tears slipping free of her eyes and her smile widens.

This is the beginning of their eternity together. Forever ordained by beautiful, red blood.

More than Anything - Chapter 1 - wraith17 (2024)

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