(Yeah, I know one of these characters is Asexual and Aromantic, but hunny if you think that's gonna stop me from cooking up some AU or another you got another thing comin sweet cheeks. That being said, Enjoy my first ever smutty story lovelies! 3. And for all those wondering what Happened to "why me count?" well to put it simply I've lost interest in it so until I feel like I have something I'm afraid I'm going to have to drop it, sorry gals and guys. As a side note ill be posting this on Ao3 as well under the name Raider_Jack29).
(Warnings: minor degrading language (some of it old timey), bloodplay, and bondage).
Soft strained breaths puffed against the bedding, as fair white furred hands gripped the sheets beneath him. Angles mismatched eyes looked out the nearby glass French doors which went out on to his personal veranda here at the hotel. Sweat dripping profusely from every pore on his body, and on to the bedding as he writhed and tugged against the black tendrils holding all of his limbs in place. He whimpered softly, as the tip of an already crimson clawed hand slid slowly over his delicate skin and fur. So gentle was the touch, very odd coming from the man now above him what with his constant sadist smile, that he barely noticed it when the hand managed a small cut in his cheek. The movements were deliberate and calculated. Even in this, Alastor planned and calculated every move to his dragged his now blood-stained finger first over Angle's cheek, then slowly down his neck. Brushing lightly over his chest fur, which he played with for only a millisecond as he admired the plushness of it all. The many times he had himself laid a claim to the faux bosom in the recent months were uncountable. "Such a perfect little harlot, couldn't stay away. Always so persistent in your pursuits. In some respects, quite the hunter…however- "That clawed hand reset just below Angle's naval, pressing there to it began to bleed. The deep rich colored red a great contrast against the pale fur.
"Now…don' that look good cher"? That softly spoken Louisiana lilt was almost enough to make Angle cream his skirt then and there. Then that tongue, the same sinful tongue that had reprimanded him so many times, began to lap at his blood-stained cheek. Descending slowly along his cheek bones, and lingering maddeningly on his neck. Where that long, deliciously wet, appendage soaked his fur and caused a deeply pleasant fire to grow and blaze in his very being. Again he moved, in such a predatory way, down his body. Keeping eye contact with Angel as he moved, he placed a soft hand on Angel's stained cheek. The other crept slowly down his body…slowly…painfully so, until eventually Angel could feel Alastor's Palm running over the soft fabric covering his aching length hidden beneath that pair of inky black panties. An animalistic feeling of excitement shot up Angel's spine, which left him moaning and arching into the palm of his captor.
""A-Al…please I-I-"Angel wanted to ask…no…BEG Alastor to take him in that moment. Bang him, fuck him till his eyes crossed, make him his best guy, or whatever the flying fuck old timey shit he had to say to make Alastor fuck him till he couldn't feel his ass anymore. Well, he would've, if Alastor hadn't picked that exact moment to clap a hand over his mouth. "Now now cher-" Alastor paused, nipping once more at Angel's neck. "ya gotta be patient, or ahm gonna have ta' stop right here. An' I'm sure y'all don' wan' that. Y'blood taste good cher, real good, makin me have all sorts of thoughts of what I could do with ya-" Angel doesn't remember much after that, aside from the cascading amounts of pleasure that built up, and released, and built up again in constant cycles of hands, working up and down his shaft with a soft grip that was teasing at best, and maddening at worst. gasping breath and clutching hands as he raked his own nails over Alastor's back. Panting like a dog as he was made to beg and was degraded more and more with every sinfully slow thrust of Alastor's hips. For a momen't he could've sworn that he had seen heaven in his own orgasmic form of paradise. even as he lost himself in sin./span/p
Angel shot up from the bed, breathless and panting. The Afternoon light peaking between the curtains near blinding him as he adjusted to his surroundings. The room was empty, no radio demon in sight, not even a used condom in the trashcan by the vanity. "Well fuck me, it's another god damn dream"! he felt and looked simultaneously disappointed and angry. It took awhile for Angel to get ready, as he Begrudgingly crawled out of bed and began his daily dust bath. Slipping on his pink robe and bunny slippers, Angel went over and began to fill Fat Nugget's food bowl. When he looked up however, he spotted his reflection in the vanity mirror. There, just small enough to be hidden if one wasn't looking for it, was a small still healing cut on his cheek. Angel smirked, crossing his top set of arms over his chest as he ran a single hand over the cut. It was then, only when he was fully awake and more aware, that he realized something…he couldn't feel his ass.
"Al, ya sadistic son of a bitch…god I love ya". He said, flopping back on his bed and Definitely not squealing into his pillow like a school girl.