Alastor's creole love call continued the following evening, and every evening after. The sounds shifted abruptly between each other, the broadcast sometimes overcome with the screams of the Radio Demon's victims and the soft, lilting love songs that sang her to sleep.
On the third day, the radio burst to life in the middle of her morning shower with a scrambled mix of speech that might have been Alastor, but it was too hard to tell through the heavy alteration of the radio static. The longer this continued, the more curious Clover became. This was unlike him, the broadcasts unscheduled, with no introduction or real conversation from its host to fill the air-time taken by the Radio Demon. Maybe he really was sick, she thought, sick enough that it was interfering with his namesake and rendering him unable to speak. She'd learned by now how to read Alastor simply by the state of his radio frequency and what was spoken for him through his speakers, so this utter, unknowing chaos happening live on air set an uneasy feeling in her stomach.
Clover was at an utter loss for what to do, and it was driving her mad.
At least his carnage seemed to be disrupting the media circus Vox was attempting to construct around them. News of the parties crashing spread fast through the whispers of wayward souls, drawing a fresh round of faces peering into the Hotel's lobby during the day time hoping to catch a glimpse of her or the Radio Demon; All of them were either ushered out by Husker or were chased away by Charlie's optimism, the demons leaving disappointed that they hadn't gotten the chance to see the tiny nobody that had swung in and stolen the attentions of one of the most powerful men in Pentagram City. The daily news quickly became overrun by the string of ghastly murders dotting the edge of the Cannibal Colony, and the rumors of the Radio Demons' love life became nothing but padding to fill time slots and page limits in response.
That day brought no new information on Alastor's state of mind, but she'd received a response from the Vees to her tongue-in-cheek caption. The set of likes on her most recent posts would have gone unnoticed in the flood of fresh followers to her now public account if not for the comment that had been posted alongside it-
Liked by voxtagram_8k and 666 others
Redvelvettecakes: Nice party : )
The second page of the next morning's paper told tall tales of the separation of hell's hottest couple being at her request, citing its own front page coverage of Alastor's latest gruesome display as its sole source. Clover had tossed the gossip rag into the fireplace as soon as it landed on their doorstep, watching the grainy photograph of the blood-soaked crosswalk that bridged the gap between the city center and the dated downtown districts wither in the flames.
Only music filled the airwaves that night, her radio playing a medley of melancholic jazz and soft sighs between the broken begging of whatever poor soul that had found itself at the mercy of Alastor's blade.
The longer she listened, the more she was beginning to convince herself it was a rather macabre cry for help.
By the fifth night, Clover was a mess of unresolved emotions. Between worrying herself sick over Alastor and attempting to keep up with the chaos she'd created, it was all a little much for one bunny to handle. The most infuriating part of it all was the slowly building burn beneath her skin distracting her at all hours of the day. It was ridiculous that her fleeting sexuality had chosen a time like this to decide to show itself- For a moment she expected mother nature to take its course and leave her bedridden as her anatomy tortured her for refusing to comply with simple biology, for remaining barren in the height of her childbearing years- But if this was the first time she was dealing with it after death, then there were more questions than she wanted answers for. Lollie had laughed at the idea while Clover stood sheepishly hiding behind her bedroom door, the other demoness rolling off her bed to affectionately pinch at Clover's flushed cheeks and offer to go out and get her "a little something" to help, and Clover had sputtered expletives when Angel called from the adjoining room that she did, in fact, already own something that would help her in this hour of need.
So, without the bloody revenge of mother nature of blame for her current state, there was only one other thing to do- And Clover didn't like her options.
She'd shaken off the anxious thrumming of the interaction with a careful dance in the darkness of her bedroom while she awaited Alastor's broadcast. There was little schedule to when the radio might flicker on, but she'd found a rhythm to this newfound version of the man's madness. There was a desperate ritualization to it, the soothing effect the exertion of his executions seemed to have on him reminding her much of what an evening walk did to calm her nervous nature when at its worst; Or what she hoped her swaying in the breeze of the open window would do for that indecent heat that continued to consume her. Nestling her phone into the bookcase as she turned it up to full volume, Clover allowed the sound that echoed off the wooden shelving to carry her around her room.
"And I know no one will save me, I just need someone to kiss…
Give me one good honest kiss and I'll be alright… "
Her ankle twinges slightly as she turns, a reminder of her missteps that she ignores as she floats through her shadowed bedroom. Clover laughs into the night as she claps along to the otherwise somber song, the melancholy juxtaposition lifting her spirits in the oddest of ways as she softly sings along.
"I've been big and small, and big and small…
And big and small again…
And still, nobody wants me…
Still, nobody wants me… "
Lithe fingers glide through the humid air that sticks to her skin, reaching out for the darkness to dance with her. A breeze brushes across her skin, ice cold as it slips between her fingers and ghosts up the backs of her legs as her skirt swirls with a twist of her hips. It's almost romantic, the way the shadows caress her skin, and Clover keeps her eyes closed so as not to ruin the moment for herself. In her mind her hands are taken by dark claws that resist pinning her wrists to the floor, slipping beneath the thin silk of her shift to cool her heated thighs and pressing soft, upturned lips to her racing pulse. It's so vivid she can almost feel it, but when she finally opens her eyes she finds the shadows had stayed safely beneath her bed, content to watch as she crumbles to the floor.
There is no one there to interrupt her silly attempts at self-soothing tonight, no laughter to tease her as she blushes and sputters, no cheerful reminders to smile despite her aching heart. She is painfully and utterly alone, with only her twisted fantasies to keep her company, and Clover presses her cheek to the cool carpet to dry the tears that slip silently down her face.
Clover gave into temptation later that evening after Alastor had finished another lackluster slaughter, when the only sound she could hear among the static was the soft siren song it sang to her and the faintest of hums carrying on alongside it. For the first time in days, Alastor sounded soothed, a ghost of his normal, cheerful self whispering against the shell of her ear as she tried to ignore the tension tugging at the tender skin between her thighs and just go the fuck to sleep- It's too much for her to resist. She grumbles regrettably as she untangles her legs from the blankets and pulls the radio's plug from the wall, tucking it beneath the pile of clean laundry that had accumulated on her chair.
Some things were worse than death itself, so she wasn't taking any chances that he would hear her calling out to him again- Not now, at least.
Her phone, retrieved from where she'd left it on the bookcase, plays the patter of rain to hide any sounds that might slip from between her lips as she pulls her nightdress past bent knees and prays that this may take the edge off, if only for a little while. She lays there bared and unmoving as her heart races and her hands hover just beyond the edge of where she needs it, held back by the weight that sits in the air around her. Clover can't quite place why this moment feels so much more intense than the other instances of self-pleasure scattered across her time here. She'd had less restraint touching herself in the aftermath of her first date with Alastor, and this desire burned far brighter. The muffled humming still coming from the radio is what pulls her from her frozen state, Alastor's trembling tenor buzzing against her skin, and her stomach twists in anticipation as she presses forward.
Clover's skin is damp with sweat despite the chill in the air, giving it that same fevered feeling she'd felt when she'd touched Alastor- There's the thought she latches onto as her fingers slide through slick, ignoring the embarrassment threatening to knock down the tension that's already spreading from the base of her spine as she shudders at first contact. Those blackened fingers come to mind, long and thin beneath temperate leather; How different would they feel compared to her own? Less practiced perhaps, Clover almost laughs to herself, but the air catches in her chest as her muscle memory takes over and allows her mind to wander.
The sinful thoughts she'd collected so far flicker behind closed eyes, each image painted crimson as they squeeze tighter to seal her off from the outside world. Deft hands trace along the threads that draw them together in search of something to cling to, pressing into the ridges of the knots that form beneath her fingers as she picks another snapshot of sensuality to cling to. What other parts of him had been darkened in his demonic form? The thought carried her mind's eye down the lines of his throat, remembering how he'd swallowed when seeing her on the staircase or sitting atop the counter- Would he do the same at the sight of her now? She never knew what to expect from him, he swung wildly between being of absolute control to a flushing mess or a man that stuttered at the slightest flash of her skin. Whether he would simply throw himself into her with vigor or require gentle guidance through temptation was a dice roll, and either way, Clover would come out a winner.
That fleeting thought sent another shiver running down her spine, twisting it towards the phantom above her- Oh, how she longed that her body would meet the solid resistance of skin rather than empty air. Clover tried to imagine him as bare as she was now, his sharp shoulders, thin waist and long legs tangled with hers fell together into temptation, but it was difficult without proper inspiration. Alastor rarely showed his skin, always maintaining his proper appearance- How devilish would he look as a ruined man? Undone, with rumbled hair and bitten skin- Clover whimpered, catching her fingers between her teeth as she muffled the sound and continued to piece together the image of Alastor's naked form. His arms, a lacework of bright scars crossing over where the muted tone of his skin bled with black, had been bared to her many times before. She pictured them now braced around her, keeping him hovering just out of reach as she writhed into her sheets, those dark eyes blown black as they flicker across her form in that near frantic manner of his. How embarrassing it would be to have him witness the arch of her back, to hear the whimper of his name fall from her lips as she desperately chased ecstasy- It is a sweet, sinful shame that boils her blood as it rushes towards her core.
"Atta' girl."
Those words push her to blindly reach for the cold silicone that lives in its box beneath her bed, growled against the ear of the version of herself that lays sprawled beneath him in her fantasy. Its barest hint of creole drawl coats her skin like syrup as she sinks further into herself. Clover's patience with her body is far less than what she would offer him, her fingers pausing only when the stinging stretch becomes too much. Her mind rushes to distract itself from the awkward twisting of her wrist as she waits out her own body, stringing together bits and pieces of interaction into a coherent strip of carnal cinema for her to enjoy.
Alastor would be as meticulous with her as he was with all things, she imagined. He would take his time to learn what worked, claws picking at each thread of her until she unraveled- Or perhaps he'd be barely able to hold back, those deadly hands gripping into her hips as the last of his patience wore thin enough that it would shatter with a gnashing of teeth and desperate groan of her name. At this point, Clover hardly cared how Alastor would take her- All that mattered was that he wanted to- That he wanted her. It was stupid to continue to deny that there was something sensual between them, something that drew him to walk the line between indecently public displays of affection and the gentlemanly gestures he'd offered her since the infancy of their friendship. Too often did his body brush against hers, his lips hovering a breath away from her ear to speak into it and his fingers making a home in the divots of her skin; Whether they liked it or not, this infatuation sparked by casual conversation had been bred into something far more physical than either of them would have expected.
Why did you have to word it like that? Clover curses to herself as she fumbles for the buttons of the vibrator, wincing as it drags against the stickiness of her skin. It's too cold against her at first, almost steaming against the heat gathered between her legs as she finds the proper angle and takes a steadying breath.
"Pretty little doe."
The phantom praise nearly knocks the air from her as it guides her forward, her thumb readying itself over the device's power button as her fingers curl deeper, desperately seeking to fill the growing void inside of her. The chill subsides quickly, taking on the searing temperature of her skin- Much like how Alastor's skin had changed with time, growing warmer with every touch they shared. Imagine what the heat of his touch might feel like now, if only it were his hands attempting to bury themselves inside of her, or even better, his- Clover whines as the vibrator clicks to life, breaking the silence she fought to maintain as she is suddenly overwhelmed with sensation. Her flush is fire on her skin that burns a brilliant scarlet as her thoughts turn down the twisted path she'd only walked the edge of so far, the chains of her shame falling slack at her feet. It is too much, yet not enough all at once; Muscles clench helplessly around shaking fingers, thankful for the smallest of satisfaction that comes from uncoordinated strokes even as she sobs at the persisting ache of emptiness.
There is only one thing that could fulfill her, but it is the one thing she cannot have- That she is too afraid to ask for.
Clover is sure she's bloodied her lips by now, biting back every sound that attempts to escape her as she attempts to shove herself over the precipice. There is little intimacy to her own touch as her hands begin to ache from their work, her joints locking as her body resists its release and prolongs the painful pleasure that digs her heels into the mattress.
"Fuck-"
What was supposed to be a curse at her own inability comes out as a choking cry, caught in her throat as the sound of the radio clicking off meets her ears and she stumbles over the edge of ecstasy. Her thighs snap shut as she curls into herself, saving her battered bottom lip by biting into her pillow to muffle the name that falls from her lips as another specter speaks sweet nothings against her skin.
"Good girl."
"Anything but," Clover mumbles against her pillowcase, wincing at the damp her lips leave behind.
The cold air stings her skin as she comes down from her daze of desire, raising goosebumps on bare skin as the breeze from her window brushes across her. Her teeth ache as she peels her legs from each other and turns off the still pulsing device she'd trapped between them, and her stomach churns around the emptiness in her stomach at the feeling of damp silicone dragging against her oversensitive skin. What is the worst of all is that it did little to sate her; The throbbing between her thighs is lessened, but only barely, and the combination of it all bearing down on her overstimulated nerves sends her pillow crashing into her dresser in a fit of outrage that springs tears to her eyes.
Her legs shake as she tosses them over her bedside and shuffles back to the window to slam it shut, choosing the humid climate she'd created over the cold. The sheets are torn from the bed, too damp for her to stand from the combination of sweat and something else that Clover can't bring herself to name in the aftershock. Her cheeks burn as she shoves them into her hamper alongside her now-dusty pillowcase, vowing that she'd get to them before Niffty had the chance and ignoring the fleeting thought that their resident housewife had probably cleaned far worse than sticky sheets.
Clover's short detour into the bathroom was supposed to be simply that, a chance to wipe her heated skin with a cool cloth and splash equally frigid water onto her face; She'd never expected what would be waiting for her when she opened the door back into her darkened bedroom.
"Holy fu-"
Shimmering shadows cover her mouth before she can scream and stick to her skin like summer air. Her fingers grip the Shadow's form, scrambling to find purchase as her socks slip against the tiles; It doesn't flinch beneath her weight as it wraps an arm around her waist to hold her upright, waiting for her to come down from the panic it had set upon her. With a hissing "shhh" against its finger, the Shadow slips its hand from her mouth to allow her to breathe, and its fingers find a home curled against her collarbone as Clover coughs back her heart from where it had leaped into her throat.
"What are you doing here?" She whispers, her voice shaking against the darkness; It is nothing compared to what the darkness whispers back. Clover shivers at the desperation that cracks its voice, turning it into a mockery of Alastor's own nasal cadence instead of the echoed growl that usually invades her thoughts.
"We need you."
That was all she needed to hear.
Indecision dies at those words, and Clover's fingers tighten around the skeletal form of the beast beneath the black smoke as she stares up into those flickering twin flames of teal.
"Take me to him."
It releases her with something between a growl and a guttural laugh, the hot breath blowing her bangs from her face as she rushes past it. There is little thought put into gathering herself as she darts across her bedroom; She tosses the first thing she finds over top of her nightgown, roughly buttoning the cardigan with no regard for its unevenness, and tugs fresh underwear over her hips as the Shadow watches on, waiting for her. Her shoelaces whip at her ankles as she heads for the door in a blur of determination, and somewhere in the back of her mind she screams for her forgotten phone as she throws her last shreds of self preservation to the wind. The Shadow stalks ahead of her, winding its being around her silhouette as it stretches down the staircase before whisking past Husker with an alligator hiss.
"Aye', where are you goin' this late?" Husker's head lifts as she speeds by the bar, pausing his solitary card game to regard her disheveled appearance.
"Alastor's, don't wait up for me."
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, sweetheart! He usually doesn't like to- Fuck." The door slams shut behind her before Husker could finish his warning, leaving the bartender alone again. With a heavy sigh, Husker topped up and raised his glass to where she'd once stood. "Well, here's hopin' for the best. Good luck, kid…"
The world does not exist to her now as she stalks the city streets with Alastor's shadow at her side. Vaguely she wonders if this is what Alastor might feel like, for there's something powerful about watching a city obscured by darkness fly by; The main streets, the crosswalk into the Red Light District, the coffee shop, all of it is nothing but a matte painting to her grand journey.
Clover stepped down into the Cannibal Colony, greeted by fog that coats the gaslit street with the thick smell of blood. When her fingers brush against the mist, it reaches back, its limbs tangling with hers as it leads her deeper into places she knew better than brave alone in search of the man who had warned her of them. The cobblestone beneath her feet is slick with dew, her sneakers squeaking as she begins to run through the empty streets as the sounds of music reach her ears. Warm light flickers in the distance, spiking her hope that those backlit eyes would find her in the darkness, but instead it's the frosted windows of Mimzy's that greets her through the fog. Voices chatter over the swinging band as silhouettes swirl past frosted windows- A beautiful scene that does not earn time in the sequence of tonight, dropped aside to be saved for later; Perhaps it would be part of an ending montage to recount the events leading up to the climax she could feel coming up on the horizon.
A mass of twisting metal atop a shocking art-deco skyscraper, the radio tower is as overpowering as Alastor himself as it appears on the horizon. The fog here swirls scarlet around her thighs, tinted by the light of their city's central star that catches in darkened windows, casting its glow across the streets below. Every step that draws her closer sends the beacon creeping into the sky, higher and higher until its mast joins hands with one of the many points of the pentagram spread out above them. The vertigo that comes over her as she attempts to watch the spectacle of it turns her eyes downward to the door, its intricate indents swirling before her eyes as she finds herself on Alastor's doorstep. The Shadow slips between her heels to sink beneath the doorway, one hand dragging behind to crook its claw at her before it disappears inside.
"Not happening," Clover's whisper is met with an echoed laugh from the other side. "I don't think he'd appreciate me just walking in. I'm desperate, not rude."
Clover's fingers traced the lines that decorate the door's surface, searching for a knocker, a doorbell, anything to signal her arrival; Even in her current state, she knew well enough to not enter the home of a possible unhinged killer unannounced. She found the buzzer hidden beneath the braided vines of wire and ivy that cling to carved concrete and rings, counting to five in her head before releasing. There was no sound from inside, in fact, the only sign that it had made a noise at all was the scattered murder of crows roosting in the building's many outcrops. So, she laid it on again, this time pressing in short, impatient bursts that were sure to grate on Alastor's nerves as they would her own before backing up from the door to give room for whatever amount of temper she'd earned from him. She counted once to twenty, and once again while pressing her ear to the door, but she heard nothing besides the pounding of her own heart. With a heavy sigh, Clover nudged the door's sill with the toes of untied sneakers and called out to the being that had snuck beneath it.
"Alright, let me in then."
With a creak that she wasn't entirely sure was solely due to rusting hinges, the door swung open for her and Clover stepped inside. She'd seen the interior of Alastor's radio tower before, if only briefly, but she'd been too distracted by her host to take in the true grandeur of his home then. It felt like she was stepping into an Escher carving, the airspace above her weaved with staircases weighed down with wire leading into hallways filled with a profound darkness the warmth of gas lighting could not penetrate. Had she not come down an elevator last time? Clover wonders as she looks around the decorative room. Shoes squeak against the tiled floors as she turns circles in search of any sign of it, but the longer she lingers here the more confused her mind becomes. Every sound echoes, her own breathing twisted into disembodied voices by the empty hallways as she searches for the antique doors of the elevator she remembered from before.
It had been so cold the last time she was here, but now it felt as if she'd stepped straight into a simmering pot despite the change in season. The air fills her lungs with condensation as that smell of musk and warm spices desperately clings to her skin- Alastor was here somewhere, she knew it, and any doubt she had died as new sound perks up her ears.
"Sometimes I wonder why I spend the lonely night dreaming of a song…
The melody haunts my reverie, and I am once again with you… "
The song sunk through the heady atmosphere to fall upon her waiting ears like honey through summer sweet tea, a duality of sweetness that soothes the cotton of her mouth as Alastor's gentle timber sings along. She answers back with a wistful sigh, it's yearning curling around the chords before she can catch it; The clap of her hands against her mouth as her face begins to burn draws a laugh from somewhere in the darkness, and Clover follows after it.
"And besides a garden wall, when the stars were bright, you were in my arms…
The nightingale told his fairy tale, a paradise where roses bloom…
Though I dream in vain, in my heart it always will remain…
My stardust melody, the memory of love's refrain… "
The Shadow's smile greets her from inside the darkened elevator as its doors slide open to reveal the dim interior. She swore it was not there moments before, remembering this spot on the wall to be nothing but wooden paneling, but has no time to investigate as the doors slide shut with a click, and the elevator begins its ascent. The single set of arrows gives her no indication of how many floors there are to climb, and the spiked metal of the dial above the door has no numbers nor notches- The only sign they'd moved at all is the twisting of Clover's stomach as she is swiftly pulled from the ground below. Her hands grip the bar behind her, sticky against polished wood as that overwhelming scent grows thicker with every floor they pass, and by the time the bell dings their arrival Clover can't tell where oxygen ends and Alastor begins; Every breath belongs to him, coating her tongue in a warmth she cannot swallow fast enough for her own liking. Here her skin boils, a heat that only hell could manage to set upon her clawing its way along her nervous system from its home in the pit of her stomach- She can feel every breath the Shadows sends dancing across her neck as it cools the damp that drips down her spine, but it's nothing against the fire that burns her from within.
Clover is out of the elevator as soon as it opens, squeezing herself sideways through the widening crack into the far more familiar floor of Alastor's living space. Even in her current state, the sound of static manages to soothe her, and Clover calls out without a second thought.
"Alastor!"
All is quiet as it echoes down the empty hallway; The static stops with a record scratch, leaving behind dead air to carry the desperate edge of her voice to the farthest corners of his den. The silence is deafening and every second that passes is an iron chain around her heart, dragging it down into her shoes as her confidence wavers. She doesn't dare to breathe, she doesn't know if she can under the crushing weight of uncertainty- And then she hears it, the sound of footsteps steadily drawing closer at a pace that matches the rapid rhythm of her heart.
"What are you doing here?"
Clover turns just in time to watch the warm light of his eyes flicker on in the shadows before he emerges, his voice stalling her heart with its soft, confused cadence. Her knees shake, her muscles begging to push her towards him and buckling beneath the relief that knocks the breath from her lungs.
"We had dinner plans," She answers, and she's surprised by the amount of cold humor she's able to manage as she blinks back the welling tears that blur her vision. "You invited me, remember?"
"Did you-" Alastor began with a sharp breath, unmoving from his place at the end of the hall. "Did you come here all by yourself?"
"No."
The laugh that echoes across decoratively papered walls finally seems to snap Alastor from his frozen state half hidden in darkness, and the irritated twist to his brow brings her attention to something more- Alastor is not smiling, not in the way she'd normally expect to see from him. The break in his expression is quickly fixed with a dragging of claws across his face as Alastor heaves an overburdened sigh, his smile sorrowful and strained as he returns his attention to her.
"Clover-"
Alastor stalls, his voice cracking in a manner she would dare call desperate as he moves closer. The lines between his brow grow deeper with every step, and as he draws nearer she can see that he is no better off than he was the last she saw him. His skin is flushed, far more than it had ever been before, and catches the light with a sheen that glimmers gold. The blackened points of his claws are on full display as they tap against his thigh, and Clover cannot help but become distracted by them, watching as long fingers shift the tendons beneath the dark skin revealed by the rolled sleeves of his shirt. The knocking that comes as he tilts his head draws her attention to his antlers, finding their sprawling points standing far higher than before above ruffled hair- He's wearing suspenders, she notes, and the dated detail of his wardrobe shifts her scowl into a soft smile. An unbuttoned collar, missing monocle, and wrinkled shirtfront complete the picture; Alastor is a mess, and Clover can't help but be captivated by the vulnerability of him. His ears lay flat as watches her take him in, and a sharp clearing of his throat draws her eyes back to his.
"This is not a good time."
"Why not?"
Clover attempts to close the space between them, pulled in by the blown pupils that drink in her every move with predatory precision, but Alastor raises a hand to stop her. His smile nearly falls again, hanging on by the slightest uptick of each corner as it attempts to maintain itself against the gritting of his teeth and the pained wavering of his voice.
"You cannot stay."
"I will not leave."
The door to the elevator slid closed behind her with a ding that resonates with finality, and another laugh echoes up from floors below.
Alastor's fingers halt their incessant tapping against his trousers to grip at the bridge of his nose as he sighs again- He is tense despite the casual state of his attire, she sees it in the stubborn clenching of his jaw and straightening of his shoulders as he draws himself away from her. The purposeful distance he keeps between them as he stalks towards the elevator shaft and recalls it sparks that irritated grating of her nerves that his deflection so often inspired in her, and her over exhausted nerves twitch at the added tension.
The agitation in her expression is mirrored in his as he turns to her, and whatever sharp remark he'd been planning on making catches in his throat. His eyes soften, his pupils shrinking down to show a sliver of scarlet as he takes his time to find a better approach to this situation.
"Cher'," He begins, and the wavering warmth in his voice as it drops into its comfortable creole sends shivers down her spine. His footsteps are slow and deliberate as he steps closer, testing the limits of his composure within their proximity; They end an arm's length from her when his breathing stutters, and his claws curl into clammy palms before opening out to her apologetically. "I am sorry, I truly am, but I am not fit for further conversation. We will speak of this when I am well, you have my word, as little weight as it might hold for you now."
"I said no,"
Alastor seethes through his teeth, seeming to finally find the frayed end of his rope.
"This is not the time for your stubborn sensibilities! Every second you stay here puts you in danger- Please, for both of our sakes, leave before we find ourselves in a place we cannot come back from."
Clover snaps forward before he can get too far, catching his wrist between her fingers and dragging him around to face her. She is sure she must look frightful like this, forcing a glare through the stinging of her eyes as she bounds in front of him to cut him off from his escape- But she doesn't care. The answers to everything are so close she can taste it through the addicting acidity that fills the air around him and the thought of walking away from this moment aches her soul in a way that rivals all others; She'd take a thousand cuts and a lifetime of unfulfilled gnawing over this any day.
"Just tell me what's wrong! Alastor, I can not let you do this again, I- I don't think I can stand it another time. Either you tell me what is wrong or throw me out yourself, but I am not leaving."
His skin sears against hers as she reaches out to him, fingers gripping too tightly to the scarred skin of his forearm as she pulls him closer to her. The fervor of her touch is matched by the way he catches her wrist, stopping her from pressing her palm against his fevered skin as he grapples to keep her at arm's length. Clover's composure shatters, her voice shaking as she all but falls to her knees in front of him; They crash together, his arms winding around her and the feeling of his body against hers earns a sigh of relief that shakes them both.
She knew Heaven had to exist, but if it was anything other than the place within Alastor's arms, it wasn't worth the trouble; But he most certainly was, and now that she had him in her grasp, there wasn't any denizen of hell that could convince her to let him go.
"Let me help you! I've been worrying myself sick about you-" Clover is nearly sobbing now, stretching up onto her toes to further close the distance between them. "I'll spare you the details but I am not well either, so whatever this is must have spread to me and if that's all this is then why can't we suffer together?"
Alastor's expression can only be described as that of a man torn as he cradles her to his chest, holding her weight to him as her breathing slows and her fingers twist into his sleeves. The familiar panic that flickers his eyes across her face and warped his smile is even more confusing when viewed through the watering of her eyes, but his static tells all. It had spiked with an ear-splitting peal when they'd touched and had since settled back into that same strange mix of static and song that he'd been broadcasting for days. Its frequency is unsteady but holds itself at a stable volume, which is promising enough for her. Her ears twitch as his breathing bleeds into it, attentive to the purposeful rise and fall- He's trying so hard to maintain some sense of control, but she can feel him slipping with every twitch of his fingers against the silk of her shift and see it in the flush that is steadily spreading down his neck.
Soon, her breathing falls into rhythm with his, and Clover blinks herself clear of her hysteria; All that hard work that went into steadying her breathing is ruined as their eyes meet. His gaze is heavy behind the haze of sickness, dragging down the exposed length of her neck before skipping across where her nightdress has been pulled dangerously low on her chest by their position to glance at where their fingers tangle them together before darting back to hers. Those dark eyes flash with recognition as he draws another deep breath, and Clover has to bite back the whimper that bubbles in her chest at the growl that vibrates across her skin.
Then, Alastor laughs.
It's a breathless sound, coming from somewhere deep beneath her palms as they press into his chest to get a better look at him. Clover doesn't quite know whether to be concerned or terrified at the utter shift in his character, and the wheezing death of any humor it contained as he attempts to speak through his chuckling only confused her more.
"Peaches," Alastor whispers as he draws another shaking breath. "How funny- I always wondered why that particular note to your scent was so inconsistent"
Her brow furrows, and Clover is truly worried that she'd sent him into a state of shock with her outburst. His eyes still hold that misty, blown-out quality as he watches her mouth attempt to form words- Which is a far more difficult task when the dark flash of his tongue darting out to wet his lips distracts her.
"What-Alastor, what are you talking about?"
"Come now, you're a smart girl. Surely a woman of your particular upbringing knows what hunting season entails- Haven't you ever wondered why the beasts are more lively during particular parts of the year?"
It takes her far longer to decipher his meaning when the rough growl to his voice is back again, praising her so close to her ear as his head drops away to hide the blush that warms his skin; What the hell did any of this have to do with hunting season? As much as she enjoyed the games they played, sometimes it really was simpler to just come out and say what he meant- It reminded her of how he spoke of more intimate matters, often dodging the point and rushing away from any deeper conversation concerning such things. What was she missing? Her mind frantically fought through her flushing fatigue for answers; This would be much easier if she could just think without that throbbing tension between her thighs holding half of her hostage, tying the ropes around her rational thinking tighter with every breath of heady musk she took in-
"...Oh."
Clover would have slapped herself if her hands had been free; She'd said it herself, and yet it had taken so long for her to make the connection.
"You smell kind of like this, warm spices, mixed with that musk that you get the fake version of in men's cologne-"
Her eyes shift to the antlers that branch out above them, to the ears that anxiously flutter with her every breath- It was so easy to forget what they were at times, but it was right in front of her. Alastor was not just a hunter, but game, and so was she. In life Clover had never thought twice about the changing of seasons, the coming of cool air was just a time to indulge in festivities and pull out her warmer wardrobe, but for the larger of animals- And demons sharing their likeness, apparently- it was something else entirely;
It was mating season.
"Oh."
"I am…" A nervous laugh brushes her hair from where it sticks to her skin as Alastor clears the dryness that had collected in his throat. "I am sorry you've been burdened with this indecency, as I have. It's an incredibly cruel fate for people like us."
Alastor's voice is strained, his fingers fidgeting against her- It's embarrassing for him, of course. While her understanding had lifted a weight from her shoulders, it had doubled what Alastor was forced to bear, bowing his back as he fought to keep her from feeling the very real representation of his rut. He'd dealt with this alone for decades, forced to live through a season of something that was a harsh diversion of his core being, while Clover had just begun to fully understand her demonic self. Her heart aches for him, unable to even begin to comprehend how hard the sudden onset of sexuality must have been for someone such as Alastor.
"No- It's not your fault. This… makes sense for me," She moves much more slowly now as she turns to look at him, tilting her head to seek out the eyes he'd hidden behind his hair; They're blown wide as they look down at her, seemingly surprised that she'd not shown utter disgust for his current state. She wants nothing more than to reach out to him, to take his face between her palms and kiss away that uncertainty, hoping her lips would be able to communicate the question that balances on the tip of her tongue, but she knows that is not enough. Her embarrassment mattered far less to her than his unease at this moment, so Clover clears her throat and tries her best to stop the nervous shake to her voice, for his sake. "...Would- Would us being- Uh, being together, help?"
"Quite the opposite, every second I am near you drives me absolutely mad with-" With a sharp shake of his head, Alastor claws back some of his more rational thought- Or at least attempts to, for it is becoming increasingly difficult to think of anything other than the bare skin of her knee that had slipped between his in their embrace. It's with heavy hands that he moves her away from him, settling her against the far wall with its entryway bench before returning to an appropriate distance. His voice trembles, breaking the heavy static that had filled the hallway as he tries to find the most appropriate way to approach this tender topic. "With the most carnal of desires. I believe extended exposure would result in… Well, things I do not dare to speak the name of."
Clover can't help the adoration that blooms in her chest for him as she watches him stumble and struggle to explain himself to her without expletives. The thing she thinks to ask next flutters her heart and threatens to choke her with clawing fingers of insecurity, but with risk might come reward, so she presses forward.
"Have you thought for a second that I might want to...carry out these carnal desires with you?"
Angels could sing no sweeter songs than the soft whine her words pulled from him.
"Clover- I cannot ask that of you. It's not fair to confuse our relationship further with such sinful matters."
His words come more quickly now, sharp and clear as he bites through the stuttering of his breath and swallows hard. It's infuriating, that he continues to refuse reason when it is obvious that every fiber of his being is barely restrained from reaching out to her; Hands flutter at his sides, and every shift of her weight draws his eye- Clover sees it all for what it is, there is nothing he can hide from her now that she knows the truth. She watches as his throat bobs, following the long lines of his neck until they disappear beneath his open collar and linger on the white flash of scars scattered across his skin. This is all a risk, one misplaced word or a push too far in the wrong direction could ruin them for all eternity- But there would be no sweeter reward than what she knows waits for her on the other side of the line that begs to be crossed with shallow breath and wide eyes.
Clover decides that brutal honesty is the best way to beat down this wall between them, and barrels forward before doubt has a chance.
"Then I will clarify- You've asked me twice about what I said that night of your broadcast, a door and key, right?"
"Yes, but that's not important now darling- This is a much more pressing issue than metaphors."
"You asked me, and now I am answering." The tension of his jaw melts into her palms as she crowds back into his space, Clover crossing his hallway too quickly for him to stop her in this state. "The key is you, you idiot. Get out of your own head for two seconds and listen to what I am saying to you. I would not be offering this to you if I did not trust you, if I did not want it from you. You beautiful, ridiculous, stupid man- How have you missed that I am absolutely and affectionately yours?"
Alastor's smile falls slack in response, and if Clover had not been so fed up with his mulish behavior she might have laughed at how much he'd come to look like a saying common for an animal of his kind. Under her knowing stare his eyes shift from red, to chocolate, to the spinning of a radio dial with every blink, moving rapidly across her face as she ignores his stumbling attempts to answer her with a press of her thumb to his lips.
"Actually, don't answer that, because I know for a fact that you've known- You 've always known, because you insist on pushing every button of mine you can find, on being the most frustrating-" Clovers breaths a laugh as her nose bumps against his with a fond shake of her head, cursing how her eyes have once again begun to water in her sincerity. "Fantastic, terrifying person who could have walked into my life, and I will not stand here and listen to you continue to delude yourself that anything you could do to me is any worse than the torture that is being without you."
The echo of her voice comes back to her from the depths of his hallways as all goes quiet, and they are left to simmer in the position Clover had put them in. Her hands cradle his jaw, tugging him down to her until his shoulders stoop, surrounding her with him, and his hands had come to cover her own as she'd all but shoved him back against the wall. Alastor's breath is hot against the pad of her thumb, and she can't help but press into the softness of his lips before her fingers fall away. The sharp intake of breath as her hands curl against his chest keeps her focus on the stark contrast of crimson cotton against her pale skin as she whispers apologies into the space between them.
"I'm sorry, I- I don't know how to be more clear."
Alastor's fingers are warm as they stroke her skin; She remembers a time when they'd once been so cold, so unyielding to the unfamiliar feeling of her touch. His breath blows across the bare slope of her shoulder, her cardigan having slipped down in the heat of the moment, and Clover shudders at the gentle brush of lips against her as Alastor speaks against her skin.
"...This is not how I wanted this conversation to go."
"Me either, but I can't leave now that I'm here."
"You deserve better than this."
"It's not up to you to decide what I deserve- I want you. Is that not enough?"
She can feel his defenses crumbling with every word, his nose brushing against her temple as he turns to her with a quiet, frustrated groan. He takes her hands from where they'd wandered to trace the curve of his ribcage through his shirt, prying them away from where they attempt to curl around the straps of his suspenders with unexpected gentleness.
"You deserve to have this conversation with a version of me that is not- So distracted." He slips between her fingers too easily, backing towards the way from which he'd come. "Please don't let my current affliction worry you. I will be fine. This should clear up as it always does in a week- Maybe two at the latest, and then we can probably speak about this. "
"And what about me?"
Alastor calls the elevator again, his movements heavy with reluctance as he steps back to watch the dial tick up as her departure draws near.
"I can only hope you will be the same. I'd suggest you stay in the hotel until then, as other demons will be more tempted by you in this state- Husker and Angel will understand what has happened. I'm sure my Shadow will be happy to walk you home in my absence."
There he was again, attempting to shove her back over the threshold, convincing himself that it was for the better- That either of them could simply wait out the torturous tension sitting heavily between their legs and then go back to how things had been before. Clover's fingers curl against the wallpaper as her teeth begin to grind, letting the lingering warmth of him battle back the chill that his cold shoulder leaves behind. The radio is so quiet, whispering the change of stations as if they're secret- She watches as he rocks on his heels, the fading backlight of his eyes casting long shadows across his face as he waits for his resolution to rattle it's way up. His ears stand as straight as his spine as they twist towards her as she speaks, twitching with every stern syllable.
"Look me in the eye and tell me you want me to leave, and I will."
The radio garbles something that she thinks sounds like "Let's misbehave" before it's consumed by the heavy distortion of doubt all over again, the fleeting notes suffocating in the static that stalls for time. Clover is not ready for the longing in his eyes as he tilts his head toward her.
"That is precisely the problem, my dear." Alastor sighs, fondly. "I want you to stay."
"Then we are at an impasse. There seems like no better time to work out the obvious feelings between us, and if we are going to stand here arguing all night it might as well be about something worth our time."
She twists herself towards him with a stubborn stomp of her foot, fully fed up with him. Clover is being ridiculous, she can see it in how his brow shoots up as she all but tosses herself onto the entryway bench and toes off her sneakers before kicking them beneath carved wooden legs, but so is he- At least she was aware of it. The elevator arrives, standing open for what feels like forever before its polished doors slide shut again. Alastor's neck snaps between her and the door as he sputters at her stubbornness, and Clover is all too happy to admire how the clenching of his jaw tugs the muscles of his neck and how well fitted his pants look in profile while she waits for him to collect himself.
"Clover, I- I do not do this. This is not in my nature."
"Our biology begs to differ."
"You know that is not what I am talking about."
"Do I? You've done a great job of being painfully vague about it all, so how can you be so sure?" Clover's sardonic tone slips into sincerity as his ears lay flat, feeling just slightly guilty that she was being so difficult when he was already under so much stress- But if it was the only way to get through to him, then she had no other options. Her fingers stretch towards him as she unfurls from her defensive, cross armed stance, begging him to come closer with their wiggling. "Explain it to me then, in the best way you know how."
She can feel his eyes as they travel up her arm, lingering on where she'd neglected to pull her cardigan back into its proper place and swallowing hard at the soft slope of her shoulders shifting forward to reach out to him before risking looking her in the eye. The tension dissipates as he catches her hand in his and thoughtfully thumbs her knuckles, Alastor unable to resist her begging any longer.
"These feelings, its- It's rather thrilling, really. Something akin to that of chasing one's prey, of-" Alastor chuckles, his fingers pausing their playing with her own to gauge her reaction before he continues, seeming happy enough with the way her palm melts into his and the dreamy glaze to her eyes as his smile goes crooked. "Well, the urges my more peculiar hobbies sought to feed."
"You can say it plainly, you won't scare me."
"I know, and that in itself is part of the problem, dear. You should fear me because I've found myself unfathomably furious at the possibility that someone else might beat me to the chance to take your life."
He'd done just as she asked, and still, she was not ready for her body's response. Her thighs twitched at his words, her nerves set alight with new instinct at his words- But fear was not the word for her reaction, even if the heightened beating of her heart might have said otherwise.
"You'd kill me, Alastor?" Clover's voice felt so soft behind the blood that roared in ears, her fingers slipping into the spaces between his as she tugged him closer.
"No, it's not that- It's more so that the thought of that honor belonging to anyone else sickens me. I want the pleasure of taking you apart to belong to me alone."
No, this was something far more enthusiastic than fear. It threw diesel on the fire within her, goading the flames that licked at her core to burn brighter. Every shift of him against her is intoxicating, and Clover would happily drown in the simple touch of his fingers as she cups his palm against her cheek and speaks sweetness into his skin.
"It's yours." Trembling claws thread into her hair as she presses a kiss to the tender inside of his wrist. "And I feel the same."
The space between them feels more like an enemy the longer he maintains it, still too far away for her taste. Just one more step, a tug of his arm and he'd tower over her, trapping her on this tiny bench in his entryway and she'd be helpless- But Alastor leans back, tilting his head as he levels his gaze to hers.
"Clover, you are a remarkably astute woman but unless you've been very good at keeping that particular secret-Which if so, I must commend you- you do not strike me as someone capable of murder."
She can't help but laugh at the stern look that he's giving her, as if she's the one being ridiculous and misunderstanding him. They might be on the same page now, but they're reading wildly different paragraphs, and Clover can't wait any longer for him to catch up; She'll just have to give him the summary instead.
"I'm not, but that's not really what we're talking about, now is it?"
The space he gives her to stand is gone with a tug of his arm, the two of them falling together as her fingers unwind from his; Alastor barely breathes as they ghost across his skin and up his shoulders to curl around the back of his neck and tuck beneath his jaw, enraptured by the passion that sets the rose petal pink of her eyes alight. She is so soft as she speaks, so sincere despite her determination, and it stills his newly beating heart.
"Alastor- I've been captivated with you since the moment we met, and the obsession has only grown from just curiosity to something more- Physical, as I've gotten to know you." Clover can feel the desperation that drifts alongside her words, and for once, she hopes he hears it too. "I could burrow myself beneath your skin and still yearn to be closer to you. I am aching every moment we spend apart- I need you, not just now but always."
"I- don't know what to say."
How badly she wants to kiss him now, his baffled blinking almost too adorable to stand as he whispers between them- Instead, she laughs, letting herself crumble into his shoulder as she gives in to the giggles that manage to bubble through the tightness in her chest. Alastor doesn't seem to know what to do with himself as she does, but his hands grip her waist as her chest brushes his and her breath ghosts across his neck, and their weight reminds her of the issue at hand. They are both barely holding on now and the air between them grows thicker with every touch- It's only a matter of time before one of them snaps.
They had to come to an agreement, and soon.
"Don't worry too much about it until this is all over, when you're able to think more clearly." Clover smiles, sinking her fingers into the short hair at the nape of his neck; She practically swoons when he leans into her touch. "Just tell me what you want, the first thing you think of- Whatever it is, I will give it to you, as long as you're being honest with yourself."
The look they share holds a weight neither of them knows how to explain; Alastor's eyes are unmoving from hers, searching the depths of her very soul for confirmation that she is absolutely certain in her decision, and hers see him for who he is, as she always has. Not a breath passes between them at this moment, the only sound the background static that surrounds them and the hollow click that follows its sudden stop. His eyes fall closed as he leans over her, pressing together their fevered skin as noses brush with a gentleness that draws a sigh from between her lips.
When he looks at her again the sincerity that sweetens the soft brown of his eyes is almost enough to ruin her, but then, Alastor breathes the most beautiful thing she's ever heard against her lips.
"I want nothing more than I want you."
It takes the last shred of her self-control not to simply drag him down onto the bench behind her and see where the decision would take them, but as entertaining as that might have been, Clover had a better idea.
"...I have a proposition for you." The small gasp she'd given as the idea struck seemed to concern him, Alastor's brow rising in interest as Clover reluctantly pulled away to look at him in full. "It's obvious that neither of us will be satisfied if we part here, and I don't want to imagine what waiting this out alone after all we've said here would be like. Do you agree?'
Alastor nodded, slowly, unwinding himself from around her when she tugged at his arms and allowing her to nudge him away from her so they could stand toe to toe with one another. It felt oddly poetic for her to proposition him at a time like this, and she wasn't about to take the chance to flip this particular script for granted.
"Then my solution is this- Take what has been offered to you, for both of our sakes. There is only one condition; I ask that we take this as slowly as we possibly can. This is not something either of us take lightly, and- It's something I hope we both might like to remember fondly." Clover speaks clearly, fighting back every thud of her heart and trembling of her voice as she lays the groundwork for what is to come. Her hands press into the bagging cuffs of her sleeves, hoping to rid herself of their sweating as their moment to shine draws near. "And- We talk once we're of a clearer mind. Deal?"
The offer is sealed with a smile and then comes the moment in which she waits. It couldn't have been more than seconds, but there is no amount of time small enough to restrain the nagging of her mind. She had no idea if she even could do this, or if he'd have to restate the parameters all over again due to his title- Clover's worrying screeches to a halt at the amused twitch that widens Alastor's smile, and for the first time tonight, he looks wholly himself again.
"Another deal then? Are you absolutely certain?"
Hidden in the tender tone of his voice is something sharper, something daring that shoves aside all anxiety and allows her to truly rise to the occasion-
Clover raises a pinky between them with a wide smile, before unfurling her fingers to offer him her open palm.
"Are you?"