Into the Crimson Wood

by xNetherx

Soon after the voices first begin, Alastor takes his first life. He'd only meant to do it once for his mother's sake, but when the whispers begin once again, the urge to kill becomes an unstoppable itch he can't help but to scratch. That itch marks the start of a violent and bloody chapter in New Orleans' history. As well as the rise of it's most brutal and elusive serial killer.

25. Back into the Swing

The party is already in full-swing by the time they arrive, with loud music and giddy cries of delight spilling from the home's every orifice. This year it was even more crowded than the last time they'd attended, most likely due to the fact that this was the first party in years after they'd last been there; The result of the cases of severe sickness that several in attendance had contracted 2 years prior, according to James. Alastor had simply nodded, a bitter taste in his mouth dancing on his tongue at the reminder of the only victims of his who had gotten off lucky.

The room is an explosion of people when they get inside after trading in their invitation for access. From the people laughing and drinking in corners, to the ones dancing in the middle of the room around the center stage, there were bodies everywhere. People dressed in their best, dripping diamonds and opulence as they twist and turn to the fast paced music beneath the sparkling chandelier above, reflect multi-colored glimmers of light off of the jewels and sequins adorning their bodies. Alcohol flows freely, cups overflowing with banned drinks, while people using other illicit drugs sit tucked away in the farther corners of the room, smiling dreamily out at the crowd of swinging bodies. The room smells like a mix of expensive perfumes and colognes interwoven with the sweet, heavy scent of foreign cigars and alcohol.

Lucille was already buzzing with excitement at his side, unable to stand still as she took in the room around them. "So," she says, turning with a mischievous smirk. She had her hair pinned up in a messy bun today, delicate curls framing her face while diamond clips tucked into her hair shimmer under the light as she looks up at him. "Drinks first? Or are we goin' right out on the floor to show all these heelers how to really cut a rug?"

Alastor's eyes scan the room, going from the dancing bodies to the people at the house's bar, then back to Lucille's face. "How about a few drinks before we put them all to shame?" He replies, tapping her beneath the chin affectionately. "But only a few."

Lucille pouts, turning into him to lean against his chest, her hand reaching up to tug on his tie as she gives him those familiar doe eyes. "Aw c'mon, Al," she murmurs. "You know I've been off the bottle for over two years now. I know my limits."

Out of habit, his eyes go to immediately scan the people around them in search of angry or disgusted eyes at Lucille's actions, but he finds none. He'd forgotten in the moment that these parties were full of those who cared more about getting ossified and dancing than who was white, black, or otherwise; They were all most likely too inebriated at this point to even notice them in the first place. So, he relaxes his tensed posture and leans down to press a kiss to her forehead. "I'll give you that," He then nods towards the bar. "A Mary Pickford to start off with, then?"

Her pout gives way to a grin at those words, "Now you're talkin'!" She spins away and grabs his hand, pulling him through the crowd of people and towards the bar. After a moment of maneuvering, they find seats and Lucy flags down the man serving as bartender for the night. "A Mary Pickford and an Old Fashioned, please!"

The man nods and finishes the three drinks he was already working on before making and sliding them theirs, giving Lucille a little wink as the glasses land neatly in front of them without tipping or spilling on their trip over.

Lucille lifts the drink to him in a toast to his skill before turning to face Alastor. "To us," she says, tilting her glass towards his. "And to havin' a good time tonight."

He clinks his glass against hers before taking a sip of it, raising an amused eyebrow as he watches Lucille down hers in one go over the rim. "Limits, you mentioned?" He murmurs into the drink, hiding his smile beneath his whiskey.

She carefully places the empty glass back onto the wooden countertop and shrugs, "Laissez le bons temps rouler."

Alastor snorts a soft laugh and shakes his head before following suit, "Oui, cher. Now," He rises to his feet and offers her his hand. "Let's show them how it's done, mon amour."

She places her hand in his and hops up, her short gold-sequined dress swinging with the motion. "Let's." She agrees, laughing as he lifts his arm and twirls her beneath it before leading her through the crowd to the floor.

The song that was already playing was nearing it's end, so he spends the time waiting it out by spinning and twirling Lucille around him until she squeals with laughter. He grins down at her as he takes both her hands and turns her, pulling her back against his chest, "I've missed dancing with you,"He murmurs into her hair, ducking his head so she can hear him over the music and laughter around them. "It's been too long."

"A day without dancing with me is too long for you," She teases, looking to the side and up at him through her thick lashes. Then, with a grin, she spins out of his hold, taking his arm over her head so she can free herself and face him, fingers still interlocked with his. "Now, let's see if you've turned into a corn-shredder since the last time we danced together."

Alastor's eyebrows hit his hairline, feigning offense as he holds his free hand over his heart in faux shock. "Never," he gasps, making Lucille giggle. "However, let's see if you can still keep up with me, mon amour." He tugs her in as the song ends it's final notes, pulling her chest flush against him in preparation for the next song. Trumpets and drumbeats then kick in then, the latter overtaking the beat of his own heart as they reverberate through his chest within a familiar rhythm. The band starts in an a song that's faster in pace that the one prior, eliciting whistles from the crowd around them as they jump into motion almost immediately. Alastor laughs in pleasant surprise, turning an amused look down to his wife.

Of all the places to hear it, he never expected a band here to play Bebop jazz.

Lucille turns in her heels, a smile breaking free on her face as she takes a step back. "Watch this." She counters. Releasing his hands, she spins, stepping into the beat of of the music as the trumpets continue to blare. The sequins on her dress shimmer almost hypnotically as she jumps towards him, taking his hands again as she starts in on a version of the Lindy Hop that's just as fast paced as the music is. Her feet hit the ground in time with the drums, kicking back and stepping forward as her hands tug him into motion.

Alastor wastes no time in joining her. He swings her out and pulls her back in, turning in a circle as their steps pick up the pace, their feet never lingering in the same place for more than a second as they dance. This dance was full of kicks, swings, and lifts, all of which he matches her step for step without error as the drumbeats hammer through the space around them.

The nearly unpredictable moves of their dance cause those around them to step back, the partygoers around them moving away to give them more room. Whistles and cheers of encouragement reach his ears as he lifts Lucille off of her feet, swinging her around his left side, then to his right, before he lightly tosses her up to grab her body so her can swing her around his back. When her feet hit the floor again, he turns to meet her, their hands rejoining as they seamlessly hop back into the dance.

Lucille's laughing, her eyes bright with excitement, when he looks down at her face as he kicks backward. It had been years since they'd danced like this, but it was clear they hadn't lost their harmony. Her moves were quicker than his, her feet leaving the ground for no more than an instant before coming back down in a different place than they'd been prior. His moves, however, still led hers, as she watched his feet at times to see where he would turn and spin her next so the she could prepare for it. She uses his momentum to pull herself into all the complicated swings and lifts that he throws her into for extra flair as the drummer starts in on a solo. When Lucille steps back and dives forward, only to be caught upside down in his arms, tossed over his back, and pulled back up from between his legs, the crowd around them goes wild.

These moves had taken them months to master, and it was pleasing to see the practice had paid off. Lucille had said she wanted to show these people how to really cut a rug, and he fully intended to make sure he fulfilled that request. It wasn't everyday that an occasion called for it, after all, and this was the perfect time to show them off.

By the time the song blares to an end his heartbeat is racing, his chest rapidly rising and falling as he tosses his head back and laughs over the applause. "Attagirl!" He grins, smoothing back the wild curls that had pulled free from the confines of her bun. "That's how it's done!"

Lucille's cheeks are red when she bends forward, hands on her knees, to inhale a deep lungful of air. "Just as much of an Oliver Twist as ever, I see." She compliments breathlessly even still, straightening back up to look at him with a pleased smile. "I think I've got a few more dances left in me."

As if on cue, the music starts up again as the band plunges into a new song, this one slower than the last to give the crowd a chance to recover from the previous song's high energy.

Alastor offers his hand, smiling when Lucille takes it, and steps closer. "Then a few more dances is what you'll get, mon cœur. When you need a break just give the word."

"Not if you need one first." She replies lightly, eyes sparkling at the subtle challenge. "Then I'll be happy to take a break for you."

He scoffs a laugh, egged on by her teasing words. "Oh dear, I could dance for hours."

"Oh really?" Lucille grins and playfully pushes his against his chest. "We'll see about that."

Alastor pulls her into the smooth steps of a waltz, taking her hands gently in his before he leans in close, pressing his forehead to hers, "Indeed we shall."

---

Two and half hours pass before they find themselves in the familiar comfort of the heavily cushioned couches in the corner of the house; The very same ones from their first visit. Lucille is alert and on her toes this time, having only had four drinks since they'd arrived. Alastor had matched her drink for drink to the point and was very much feeling the pleasantly warm buzz from the alcohol. Now, however, they sat together sipping on glasses of water that a server had brought by.

"I'll admit when I'm beat," Alastor laughs, turning sideways to lift his glass to her in surrender. "You've outdone me tonight. This break was much needed."

Lucille snorts into her sip of water, "Told'ja." Her unbuckled shoes sit on the floor next to her stocking-covered feet, shiny red polish reflecting in the dim light from beneath it as she wiggles her toes. "I've had too much sleep and rest these days to not have won your little challenge."

He smiles when she lays her head on his shoulder, allowing himself to rest his cheek against her soft curls as she leans into him. "You're magnificent, mon amour." He murmurs, grinning when she giggles into her drink. "The best dancer here."

She pulls the glass from her lips, lowering her voice further so that only he could hear. "It's the melanin." She jokes, eliciting a loud laugh from him. "The band has it too, so we picked up each other's waves and alla'that."

Alastor kisses the crown of her head, smiling into her hair. "Have I ever told you just how much I adore you?" He chuckles. "Funny and a beauty."

Lucille looks up at him, their noses almost touching with the shift, as she grins, "You're damn right you have."

A loud, appreciative whistle too close by makes them jump and turn, breaking the comfy little exchange they'd fallen into. They had a spectator.

James Guillaume stands not even three feet away, cheesing. "We'll ain't you two a sight for sore eyes?" He says, walking over to plop down next to Lucille before giving her a polite nod. "Lucy, looking as radiant as ever I see."

Lucille laughs then presses her lips together to hide the grin fighting it's way through. "It's nice to see you too, J." She returns. "I love your suit, you look swell in plum." A long time ago, Lucy had told Alastor that she thought James was good company, as he treated her with just as much kindness as he would a white woman and never faltered in that behavior. She'd also been surprised when James had asked to dance with her at the wedding, taking her hand when offered and sweeping her away to twirl her clumsily around the makeshift dancefloor. They'd ended up bumping gums about daily life and laughing loudly soon after, a friendship instantly solidifying in that moment.

"Hey Al," James extends, his smile only growing when he looks past Lucille to where his friend sits. "It's nice to be back, huh? I saw you two here sitting here after that doozy of a dance number and thought I'd come say hello once you caught your breath."

Alastor chuckles and reaches behind Lucille to firmly shake James' shoulder. "It's good to see you, mon amie. It's been too long." He says jovially. He hadn't seen Guillaume since the wedding, and he was pleasantly surprised to find that he wasactually glad to see him. While he had made "friends" among the richer society's exclusive circle, he was happy to say James was the only one that had truly earned the title of a true and trusted friend.

"How was the honeymoon?" James asks, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You kids have fun?"

"It was wonderful," Lucille sighs, her eyes turning dreamy at the reminder. "The islands were beautiful. The locals were very welcoming, too."

"Oh really? I've been wanting to go myself but I haven't found the time to just yet. Maybe I should clear some."

"You absolutely should! The sights are divine."

Alastor smiles to himself as he watches the two go back and forth. He enjoyed watching Lucille interact with people, ever the social butterfly, as it was a side of her he didn't get to see often. He knew James was trustworthy company, which made him the only other man he actually trusted around Lucille. The types whose attention she attracted otherwise were usually... negative, in their various natures.

After their engagement he'd began to attend her shows at the speakeasies, both to watch out for her in case any man decided to try their luck or worse, but mostly to see her thrive. Attending her shows gave him a peek into what she'd been like before they'd gotten together, since he'd admittedly only ever asked about her job, not visited while she was working. She'd claimed the only difference was that now her songs were sung to a happier tune, rather than a blue-filled act she'd put together when life had her down. She was in her element when she was performing, he quickly learned, which was even different from what he'd see when they played together at home by way of her energy alone. While she would usually sit tucked into him as he'd play songs for her on the piano at home, or sing softly alongside him, mixing her beautiful soprano with his deeper alto, when she was on stage she was a powerhouse that didn't stay still. He'd now earned the privilege to finally see all the sides of her that had been mysteries to him prior to the start of their relationship.

"Al?"

He tunes back in to the conversation, finding hi companions looking over at him with similar amused expressions, "Pardon?"

Lucille nudges him with her shoulder, "A dance or two more before we make like the wind and blow?"

Alastor pulls his pocket watch from his black vest, flipping open the cover to check the time. They'd gotten there at 9, and it was now nearing 1 a.m. They'd been resting for almost an hour, so he had some energy to spare. "Sounds like a darb idea, my dear." He agrees, rising to his feet and holding out a hand to help her up. Then he turns to James. "You should visit one of these days, we'd love to have you."

They exchange parting words once James agrees to come see them someday soon, then Lucille puts her shoes back on and the couple heads back out onto the floor to join in with the slow dancing couples who occupied it now.

"Do you have anything planned for tomorrow, too?" Lucille asks him, laying her head against his chest as they begin to sway. "Or are we spending the day at home?"

"Hmm..." He had considered going out, but a day at home with her sounded better. "Home, I'm thinking now. I want some time with you all to myself since today was mostly full of socializing."

"...What kind of time are you thinking?" Her light tone turns expectant, thinly veiled beneath the sentence's casual beginning. "The kind that might... call for us to go for some more 'shooting lessons'?"

Alastor steps slightly away to twirl her to the music, pulling her back against his chest once she turns the full spin. His fingers lace through hers, his opposite hand going to rest at the small of her back as he hums at the question. "Oh I see,"He murmurs, unable to keep the smug amusement out of his own tone. "That's what you're hoping for."

Lucille bites her lip and shrugs, looking up into his eyes. "I've been away for days to record," She says, her voice lowered now. "And while I was gone, all I could truly think about was that day with you."

He continues to sway with her, leaning his face down to hers until he's only a breath away, "What about it specifically? The way that I handled the guns, or the way that I handled you, ma bichette?"

Her cheeks turn pink at the question, and he watches as her pupils dilate in response to his sudden closeness. A small squeak slips from her lips when he suddenly pulls her body closer with the hand on her lower back. "Al." She scolds softly, her eyes flickering from person to person around them before going to his once more. "Now? Really?"

"Really." He hums. "I'm curious." That, and he couldn't miss out on an opportunity to fluster her in public. The flush in her cheeks could be mistaken for a bit of drunkenness, so it wouldn't be paid any more mind than their proximity. Teasing her had become one of his favorite pastimes, and he now refused to miss out on any chance to bring that pretty little blush to her face.

"Around all these people?"

"They can't hear us, mon amour. They're too busy in their own little worlds." He was right, of course. The only time the crowd around them had paid the pair any attention was when they'd been dancing in the bubble of space that had been made for them earlier. Over an hour had passed since then, and with the passage of time, the amount of attention they'd been receiving had dwindled to nothing.

Lucille's hand grips the sleeve of his shirt, the maroon fabric bunching in her hand as she subtly pulls him closer, turning her face away to hide from his gaze. "I hope you do realize that you're utterly terrible for this." She huffs.

"Oh how will I ever go on, being just oh-so terrible?" He murmurs back, gently pressing his fingers into the two hidden dimples in her lower back as they continue to sway. "I'm so horrendously awful for wanting to hear that my wife actually fantasizes about me."

Lucille's responding laugh is almost flat as she shakes her head. "...I've always fantasized about you, Al." She says, looking up then so that their gazes lock. "I've lost count of just how many times I'd laid in bed at night back in the earlier years, imagining what it would've been like had you ever decided to stay with me instead of leaving like you usually did for one night."

The admission catches him by surprise, "...Truly?" He'd known Lucille had developed feelings for him earlier on, but she didn't make a habit of discussing how it had affected her in it's earlier stages. In fact, he had noticed how rarely she spoke of that time at all.

She nods, "I was no better than these dreamy-eyed dames that write in to the station trying to get you to agree to going on outings with them, or the ones we'd pass on the streets during our strolls that couldn't keep their eyes off of you. I was just... A bit possessive."

"Possessive?" He had seen glimpses of Lucille's jealousy before, but to know that she'd felt possessiveness when it came to him before they were together was...

New.

Lucille's eyes drift away from his, deepening as she thinks back to all those years ago. "I didn't like how they looked at you." She confesses, the sudden bitterness in her words surprising him. "It was like they were already fallin' in love with you without even gettin' to know you first... But I already knew you, though. I knew you, and I still didn't get to have you." Then, she scoffs. "But fuckin' Ruby Dupont of all people did, and I had to stand there and watch. Every single day. I had to convince myself that my feelings didn't matter, because I knew you didn't see me that way whenever I'd start to feel... envious. You'd already told me before that you didn't see any woman that way, least of all Ruby. Despite everythin', though," Her voice softens, the bitterness disappearing into a familiar gentleness. "...I still wanted you more than I'd ever wanted anythin' else in my entire life."

He momentarily forgets himself as he reaches down to tilt Lucille's face up, redirecting her eyes to his. "You did?" He asks, hushed. Years of being with her somehow still didn't lessen the shock of her words, of this raw admission she hadn't confessed to him until now.

Her eyes are endless when they meet his, dark and wanting. "I did," She confirms without hesitation. "And still do... Especially right now."

A chill races up his spine, leaving his body in the form of a shaky exhale. There was something about seeing Lucille's softness melt away into more sinful emotions that never failed to leave him breathless. With the mood now so suddenly changed, he makes a decision that would change the course of the night to favor it. "Rather than dancing any further," He begins. "We should take our leave now, if that's the case. I would hate to leave you in this... wanting." He then barely even gives her time to nod before taking her by the hand, stepping away to start leading her towards the front door through the crowd. They'd danced enough for one night, and the turn of their conversation had reminded him firmly that he'd gone long enough without having properly shown her just how much he'd missed her in her absence.

James' eyes lock with Alastor's from across the room for a few beats on their way out, from where he sits in the midst of several men and women. He takes one look at the expression on Alastor's face before looking at Lucille, then back again, but this time when their eyes meet he wears a sly grin. Though this meant that their intent was visible, Alastor couldn't find it in him to care. All that he was concerned about in this moment was getting out of this overcrowded home and getting Lucille alone. He could already feel the hot burn of desire turning the soft sensation of Lucille's gentle hold around his hand to fire, and when he looks back at her to make sure she's getting down the steps just fine, he finds the same impatience pouring out of her in waves. Once they reach the car he opens the door for her to let her in before rounding the front to climb in himself, but he hardly even gets the chance to settle in before Lucille's hands are on him.

Her fingers grip the front of his vest, her lips moving up to press feverish kisses to his as she all but climbs into his lap to get closer. Her hands move to the buttons, swiftly undoing them as she moves down to nip at the sensitive skin of his neck. Kisses as hot and greedy as a wildfire spread to uncovered skin when her fingers begin to work on the buttons of his undershirt, covering his neck and shoulders in the occasional love bite that feeds the warmth pooling down below.

At this rate, they weren't going to make it home.

Alastor starts the car, pulling away from the curb and doing all that he can to not floor it once they hit the empty street. There was a secluded area of trees he'd scouted out years ago up from where they were, and it would be the farthest he'd be able to get with the progress Lucille was making on doing away with his clothes. His breath hitches as her hand slips beneath the fabric of his boxers, and he lets out a hiss as her soft hands begin to grip and caress his hardened flesh. "Lucille," The desire in her name turns what was meant to be a warning into a sigh of pleasure. It was becoming increasingly more difficult to focus on the road ahead, with his head swimming and his hands itching to grab hold of her.

She presses a soft kiss to the side of his neck. "Mhm?" She hums, smug, as her hand jerks up to free his member from the confines of his clothing. Her gentle stroking begins, making his hips involuntarily jump from the waves of pleasure that were rapidly taking over.

He swears under his breath, taking a quick glance around to make sure no one was around to see, before he pulls off of the road, driving under the cover of a thicket of trees. The car bumps over a few fallen branches before emerging into a small clearing on the other side, a ways off from the water. He stops the car, parks it, and grips Lucille by the back of her neck, pulling her away so that he can breathe. "You're driving me insane," He growls, raw longing taking away the sharp edge to the words. "I've never met a woman so damn near insatiable."

Lucille bites her lip, a sliver of moonlight illuminating her face enough for him to see the flaming heat in her eyes. "Then do something about it," She whispers. "Satiate me."

Oh, would he ever.

"Get in back." He'd figure out how this would work once she was back there. Before, they always managed to make it home before going at it, but now it couldn't wait. Not this time.

She follows the order without hesitation, pushing her seat down to climb over it and into the backseat. Plopping down onto the red upholstery, she looks back up at him with a smirk, lifting her hand to beckon to him with a single finger. "Don't keep me waiting, handsome." She murmurs, left hand gently tugging up the bottom of her dress to reveal the lacey tops of her thigh highs underneath.

Alastor moves around to push his seat down, climbing into the back with her in record time. He drops down in front of her so he can grip her knees and spread them apart, lifting her dress up further above her hips. "I wouldn't dream of it." He replies huskily, eyes watching her face as he leans forward to hike her legs up over his shoulders. His hands slide up her thighs to grip the thin fabric of her panties at her hips before ripping them, grinning when her mouth drops open in shock as he tosses them aside.

Lucille's rising sound of protest melts into a moan of pleasure as he leans forward and licks into her, her fingers slipping into his hair as takes her in one stroke of his tongue. Her head falls back against the seat with a muted thump, a soft whimper slipping from between her lips as his tongue flicks against the sensitive bundle of nerves between her thighs. She tightens her grip on his hair as she rocks her hips against the eager movements, soaking his lips and chin in the process.

How he'd missed her taste. A few days away from her was all it had taken to eliminate every iota of his already lacking self-control. He considered himself a gentleman, all things considered, and preferred to take his time with her; To make love to her, instead of rushing through it for the self-gratification of the act. In times like these, however, it couldn't be helped. In the absence of her touch, a ravenous hunger had grown in it's place, making him now throw all usual decorum to the wind.

Lucille's breaths begin to hitch, her body slipping down lower in the seat to press further against his tongue as she comes closer and closer to the edge. Her soft moans begin to grow louder with each lick, accompanied with the shiver-inducing promise of her whispered: "I'm so close..." Her hips buck up, her grip on his hair tightening as she hits the verge of unraveling...

Which is exactly when he stops, running the tip of his tongue one last time up her dripping slit before pulling back.

Her immediate whimper of protest brings a smirk to his face when he looks up, his fingers dimpling the supple flesh of her inner thighs as he holds her locked in. "Al," She whines softly, the delicious desperation in her voice causing the hardness between his own thighs to throb in response. "Please? Don't do this..."

He lays his head against her thigh, moving one hand underneath her to slip his fingers deep inside of her throbbing heat. He spreads them, watching as she bites down on her lip in an attempt to suppress the little grunt of pleasure that still fights it's way free. "I'm just admiring the view," He coos. "You're even more beautiful when you're desperate for it, amour. When I have you writhing and pleading for me to continue... Alas, it's hard to see it all with my face buried in you."

Lucille gasps as his fingers begin to explore, stroking the little raised sweet spot inside of her as he presses the pad of his thumb against her clit. She tries to sit up straighter to escape it, but he holds her tight and pulls her back down. Her toes curl at the pressure as he begins to pump his fingers in and out, leaving his fingers slick and shiny. Arching her back, she starts to squirm in place, "A-Ah! Fuck!"

He tsks. "Such language, Lucy." He murmurs, leaning in to suck her swollen clit into his mouth while he continues his fingers' movements.

Her hips buck, her hold on his hair pulling tightly enough to send a shock of pain and pleasure coursing down his spine. "Al-" She moans, the sound cutting off her attempt at composure as it gives way to the desperation he so loved to see. "-Please!"

He slips his fingers out, running his tongue between the soaked digits, before plunging them back in. "You know that's not what I want to hear," He croons, kissing the inside of her thigh. "Though I do appreciate the 'please'."

The rocking of her hips turns sloppy, each movement coming closer and closer to brushing against his face, but he stays just out of reach. Until, she says the only explicit words he had been waiting for. "Just fuck me," She begs. "I can't t-take it anymore."

Alastor sighs happily, "That's all you had to say." He pulls his fingers from her, tugging his pants and boxers down the rest of the way from where her previously roaming hands had left them. He reaches up to grab her face with his left hand, making sure she's looking before he speaks, "Now, I want you on top of me so I can see every single expression that lights up that beautiful face."

She bites her lip before nodding, moving off of the seat so that he can sit across it with his back pressed to the siding. She climbs easily into his lap, her hands pressing to his chest so she can lift herself and put one leg over his. Then, she reaches down to wrap her fingers around his erection and, almost carefully, begins to lower herself down onto it. Her eyelids flutter, a moan of pleasure tumbling out as she takes him in deep, leaning in to kiss a trail along his jaw, as she settles around him.

He grips her hips, bouncing her up and down against the upward thrusts of his hips the moment she stills. "I want to hear you," He whispers, watching an array of emotions play across her face when she rocks back. "Why don't you stop holding back for me, ma déesse? Pretend as if all those dreamy-eyed dames you despise so intensely can hear us. Show them that I belong to you."

Lucille's eyes widen, her nails sinking into his chest with a delicious burst of pain as she allows her body to fully take over. She could tear him to shreds if she wanted to, he'd have no complaints; He'd let her leave more scars from her pleasure behind if that was what she so desired. When she lost control was when she was at her most glorious, leaving behind more proof across his skin that he was hers. She was the passionate artist, and he, her willing canvas.

"Oh, what they'd think if they could see you now," he continues, gasping softly as she drags her nails down his chest. "What envy they'd feel knowing that you're the only woman I'd ever come undone for."

Lucille's dress has slipped from her shoulders now, revealing the smooth curve of the tops of her breasts. Her hand slides up his chest to wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him in to slip her hot tongue into his mouth. It was passionate, it was possessive; The kiss set every nerve in his body alight then reduced them to ash.

His fingers rise to the back of her dress, undoing the fastenings as the kiss deepens. They part momentarily for him to lift it over her head, throwing the sparkly fabric to the front of the car somewhere, before their lips crash messily back together again. "I worship you," he whispers into the kiss, biting down on her bottom lip. His lips drop to her neck, kissing to her shoulder where he bites down, eliciting an adorable little mewl from her as her body rocks atop his. He slips his fingers into her hair, looking up as he pulls her into another deep kiss, "You've no idea what you've done to me, mon ange."

"I love you," she says against his lips, the words escaping on a shuddering breath. Her hips rock shamelessly against his as she rides him, and even in the dim light, made even lesser by the fogged over windows, the enraptured expression on her face when she sits back is beautiful. She bites her lip, placing her hands on his chest to steady herself as his hands glide down to grip her waist.

He watches, enraptured, as her head tilts back, the rise and fall of her chest quickening as the bouncing of her hips turns erratic. Her face is euphoric in the moonlight: Eyes half-lidded, face and chest dewy with sweat, as the sound of their heavy breathing fills the car, shaking it under the desperate movements of their bodies. He wanted more. He hungered for it. He wanted to see her in all her lustful glory, wanton and free for his taking.

"I feel faint," She gasps then, words airy and breathless. "Could we... go outside, perhaps?"

He wasn't fooled; He could hear the undertone of mischief in her voice. "Lucille," He murmurs, amusement wrapping around his words. "You mean out in the open?" ...Under the full moonlight where he could see it all.

She nods, tightening around him in response to his hands lightly tracing down her spine. "Please?" She whispers.

Alastor could never say no to a request like that. Once he has her outside, stripped down to her thigh highs alone, he bends her over the front of the car and roughly enters her from behind with a deep groan of pleasure. He pins one of her arms behind her back, allowing her to keep the other braced against the car as cushion, before he starts to thrust into her. The wet smack of their skin coming together echoes through the space around them, almost covered entirely by Lucille's breathless pleading and moans. He could feel her body shaking beneath his as she stuck her ass out to meet his every thrust, sloppily, as her body begged for his. "My beautiful girl," he croons breathlessly. "Look at you, so greedy for me to fill you."

Lucille's responding whimper betrays the depths of her desperation before her words do. "Alastor," she moans, his name ragged as it slips from her lips. Her back arches as he releases her arm to grip her hips, wordless vocalizations forced from her mouth with every deep stroke. When she does speak, the words tumble, almost slurred, from her lips, "I-I want you to come inside me. I want you t-to-"

"Shh," he shushes softly, leaning forward to place his lips at the back of her ear. "I will, mon ange. Being inside of you is just such Heaven that I hesitate to end it so quickly after being without you for so long is all." He was struggling against the urge to let go as it was, slowing his pace down when he felt it rise to prevent ending it all so soon. He slips his hand around front of her, rubbing his fingers between her legs to feel her body tremble under his. He strokes her clit with his fingertips, kissing softly up her spine as she quivers beneath him. "Which is a show of my strength, as I'd truly love nothing more than to ruin you." he growls.

Her hips begin to rock into his palm, pressing hard against the pads of his fingers each time she comes forward. "Do it." She pleads. "I'm begging you."

While Alastor loved to hear her beg, he had never prided himself on his self-restraint for several reasons; This was one of them. He chuckles and leans in to press a kiss to the skin between her shoulder blades, "While I do love having you at my mercy, I love hearing you in bliss even more." He reaches up to grip a fistful of her hair, pulling her head back roughly before leaning in to kiss the side of her neck. "So don't hold back."

Lucille cries out, the sound ending in a sharp grunt as he pins her to the hood, his thrusts breaking their careful pace in favor of slamming into her with hardly a sliver of restraint. She spreads her thighs, pushing back against him in his roughness. The choked sounds that spill from her lips are broken, cut off by each careless jerk of his hips into hers. A gasp tears itself from her lips when his hand makes sharp contact with her ass, her body quivering as the stinging causes a fresh gush of juices to spill down her thighs. She swears under her breath, her body momentarily stilling, before his next thrust sends her over the edge, tumbling into an orgasm that pulls the air from her lungs in a loud exhale.

He doesn't stop, only slowing his pace to deep, careful strokes as she falls to pieces around him. "There we go," He murmurs. "That's it. That's my girl."

Her exclamations of pleasure fade into overstimulated whimpers by the time he reaches his end, bending forward to nuzzle his face into her hair as he fills her with a breathy moan. She tightens around him, her knees shaking as they threaten to give out, as he floods her body with his warmth. Lucille gasps softly when he slowly begins to pull out, her unsteady legs buckling almost without warning right before he bends to catch her.

"Let me help you." He murmurs, scooping her up into his arms and pulling the car door open with his right hand so he can sit her in the driver's seat atop his long discarded coat. He fixes his remaining clothing before he kneels down in front of her, carefully spreading her thighs so he can gently dry them with his coat sleeve. "How's a shower sound when we get home? I'll lather you up, cover you in kisses, and take you to bed."

Her responding laugh is exhausted as she pushes escaped curls off of her forehead, "You spoil me, I'd love that."

Once they arrive home they quickly hurry up the stairs to the bathroom, both still in different states of undress, laughing softly and shushing each other as they go. Dropping their clothing to the floor, Alastor turns on the shower and waits for it to heat up before tugging Lucille underneath the warm streams of water. He presses kisses to her face as he takes down her hair, running his fingers through the dark curls as he holds her close with a happy sigh. He had missed her more than he had ever thought possible, and having her back was quickly soothing the ache that had started the moment he'd watched her train pull away from the station a week ago. How he had gone from happily independent to this state of... overly soft co-dependence was startling to him... but looking down at her face as she enjoyed the flow of water running down her skin, he couldn't find a problem with it.

He was just happy she was home.