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alastorthirsty · 4 hours ago

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Alastor Hands You the Aux Cord - Alastor x f!reader

Anon asked for: Hello! Love ur work :) Alastor x f!reader fluff & heavy smut inspired by the song “soaked” by shy smith???

Honey, you got a lot more than you bargained for, and even then I¨m not quite sure that I did it correctly. Alas! I hope you enjoy it either way. So sorry this took so long, it was an undertaking.

Summary: I suck at these so just be patient and kind. Reader was a radio/sound engineer in life and begins to work with Alastor rather closely.

Dividers by @konatasoup

Warnings: Listen, we all know Alastor is a Bad Man(tm). In this story and many, many others, Fucked Up Alastor is going to say Fucked Up Things. Alastor is a sentient red flag. I would like to kindly remind you that you need to carefully decide whether or not that's too much for you before you begin to read. I'd hate it if you read and got triggered by some possessive or otherwise red flag dialogue/prose! If it’s not for you you can simply block me and avoid my other fanfiction. You're responsible for your own reading experience! If smut is not for you, this is not for you. Other warnings include briskets, sandwiches, p in v intercourse, I don't know, standard fare, Alastor is a deeply jealous and possessive man, colleagues to lovers, Alastor’s fluffy, fluffy ears are an erogenous zone I don’t care lalalalala

Words: 9521

Tell me if you want to be added to the tag list! Requests are open and the guidelines are in my pinned post! I

It would be VERY helpful for your reading experience if you listen to the provided music! If the response is good there will be a part two :)

SMUT

Masterlist

It was the sensible thing to do, and took surprisingly little effort to get him to agree. All you said was that radio lived on in your lifespan, nearly one hundred years after his death. You asked if, in life, he would have happily adjusted to innovations in radio technology, and you remember the way he looked down at his claws, all tightened into fists that slowly unfurled. He begrudgingly admitted that he would have.

“That type of microphone you’ve got there wasn’t invented until after you died,” you pointed out.

Radio had been your life’s passion in the living world just as it had been for Alastor. You began in university as a DJ, then changed your major to reflect your newfound love. You started off with communications engineering in undergraduate studies and moved on to wireless communications engineering. Twelve years of your life, you had dedicated to radio.

You were the perfect candidate, and best of all you could make yourself obsolete by teaching him what he needed to know, so it was a win all-around. Kinda. It remains to be seen what he would do with you once you became obsolete.

You did, however, strike up a friendship. Alastor would admit readily that you were a good sound engineer and constantly upgraded his equipment. He would also admit, not quite as readily, that speaking to you was pleasant. You never batted an eye while he ripped apart souls, which he found surprising at first, but when you pulled out a sandwich to eat whilst he did so it elevated to…cute. He typically hates things that are cute.

Okay, fine, you’re cute.

As time passed, you grew more comfortable with each other. Sometimes you even offer him pre-soul breaking sandwiches, and Alastor eats them simply because they were offered by you. He has no idea what a “PB&J” is, only that whoever created it must surely be living amongst you all in hell. He always eats them, though. Every last morsel.

Then something quite remarkable happened. Alastor sat you down after an unusually long broadcast, took the pistachios that you offered him, and gave you the best gift you had ever received.

“Only one,” he said, poking your chest several times. “One song of your choosing at the end of my broadcast. Do you understand?”

You remember nodding so hard it almost hurt.

You had tried not to seem too enthused, so as not to betray your true excitement to your finicky friend, but shouted joyfully into a pillow when you got to your hotel room. You rolled all over your bed, still screaming into the pillow, and spent the rest of the night curating various playlists for the post-show tunes.

The two of you became inseparable. When you weren’t on air, you were still working together on scripts, advertising campaigns, marketing strategies, even merchandising, a pencil stuck through your hair, sandwich wrappers discarded haphazardly.

‘I got my soul ripped apart by the Radio Demon and all I got was this fucking shirt’.

You’re more excited about this than him by far, but it was becoming harder and harder to deny you a thing. He’s always criticised Vox’s use of petty merchandise to belittle him, but this was different. Entirely.

It had been a rather destructive day in the radio tower the first time you played a song. There were three soul rendings today, so everything but you was covered in blood and viscera. Alastor, with a small smile, offered you his staff, and explained all you had to do was play a song on your phone while holding it.

It felt special. It almost made your cheeks warm, but that crisis was thankfully averted and you chose a tribute to radio itself as your first ever post-show track.

‘Radio, someone still loves you.’

Alastor didn’t look particularly happy with what he’d heard, but he did give you an amused little pat on the head before taking his staff and leaving the radio tower, still covered in blood.

You remember all of that fondly and take a bite of your sandwich. Alastor takes one bite of his and goes feral.

“Calm down over there,” you chastise. “It’s just pastrami.”

He swallows. “You know my feelings about brisket, darling.”

“Well, I’ll bring you more pastrami in the future, then. Maybe I’ll even make you a brisket someday.”

“Yes, you should,” he almost snaps. “And I’ll have no more ‘peanut butter’, by the way.”

“Do you like the almond butter better?” you ask, offering him another sandwich from the basket you brought with you

“…I prefer the pistachio and cashew one.”

“Okay, I’ll find more of that,” you say before passing him a napkin. You sigh and grab the clipboard set to the wayside. “No souls today.”

“Yes, I am aware,” he says.

“Isn’t that less fun for you?”

Alastor ponders over his answer for a moment. “It is more fun to murder. However, not having one or more to murder also means that no one has challenged or crossed me. That is better in the long run.”

“I can see that logic.” You nod, then go back to the clipboard. “Oh, I can’t be here on Saturday.”

His expression sours and his eyes narrow. “And why is that, darling?”

You smile at him, arms up. “I’m going to Lu Lu World!”

“What in the world is that, darling? Wait a moment.” His eyes narrow anymore. “It has nothing to do with that circus freak does it?”

You purse your lips and tilt your head, staring at him. “You’ve lost me.”

“The hell I have. I find it absolutely unacceptable that you would leave work behind in order to prance around in an amusement park.”

“I don’t plan on prancing, so we’re good,” you say. You wrinkle your nose and chuckle a little at his steadily souring expression. “Tell you what. I’ll make you that brisket.”

“Two briskets,” he’s quick to demand. “No, three. Three briskets, and I’m not sharing with the others like you made me do on Beignet Day.”

“That was never meant to be just for your enjoyment!”

“Well, it should have been!” he snaps.

You laugh again and fold your hands over the clipboard. “I will miss work on Saturday to be escorted around Lu Lu World by its namesake and you will receive three briskets at a time of your choosing. You’re in for a treat, I make the best brisket. My husband loved it.”

A pregnant silence fills the radio tower.

“I find it equally unacceptable for you to have a husband. No, no more of that,” he says finally.

“I’d like to think I’ll find love again someday!” you say, laughing.

He huffs. “Is it a date?”

“Is what a date?”

Alastor rolls his eyes. “Your petty little outing to the amusement park with the circus freak!”

“He’s the King of Hell, not a circus freak!” you exclaim.

“If he doesn’t want to be called a circus freak he should dress like an adult male,” he says.

At that, you sit up straight, arms folded, and stare at him. “Do you really want to go there? Making fun of how he dresses?”

“My manner of dress is unimpeachable! Everything is just so!” Alastor gestures at his suit, then narrows his eyes again. “You will not marry him.”

“Marriage isn’t on the table, I’m just visiting his park with him. It’s closed for the day, no one but us! Oh, but also you can’t tell me who I can and can’t marry,” you say.

“There will be no marriages at all! We have work to do, important work!” He closes his eyes, touches his forehead, and growls. “Do not sass me.”

You take another bite out of your sandwich. “So I won’t be here Saturday.”

“…Fine. I can go back to the Stone Age for one damn day.”

You groan. “I’m glad no one else knows of your flair for the dramatic.”

“And you’d do well to keep it that way,” he says. He holds up three fingers. “Three briskets. I want them all at once.”

“I don’t have the time to do them today, as you said, we have important-ish work to do,” you say.

He eyes you again. “Three. Briskets.”

You throw your hands up. “Fine! I hope you get a tummy ache!”

“I will not! I will enjoy the briskets and be fine!” Alastor adjusts his butterfly tie and stands up from his chair. “And you will make up for lost time from your Saturday outing.”

“No I won’t,” you say. “I’m under no such obligation to work every single day with no breaks. I just haven’t had anything better to do in a while.”

Alastor’s hand smacks against a panel. “No! You’re to work with me every day, that is the arrangement! Good god, woman, you are so insolent today. All of hell listens to these broadcasts. I do not know how to do what you do. You have made yourself necessary and now you want to cut and run so you can have intercourse with that circus freak in a hall of mirrors.”

You tilt your head back and laugh.

He looks unamused by this. “What? What is it? Why are you laughing?”

“I suppose I’d better fuck him in the hall of mirrors, then, if you think the opportunity presents itself.” You wipe your mouth with a napkin and put everything else in the garbage for Niffty to collect.

Alastor’s ears flatten. “I do not like you today.”

“Nah, you adore me.” You look closer at the agenda for today and begin warming up the necessary equipment. You pull on your headphones “Thirty seconds, Al.”

He nods and repeats it back to you. “Thirty seconds, Al.”

By the end of the show, you’ve already got your topical track selection queued up. Alastor stands up and stretches before giving the staff to you and rifling around for more sandwiches in the basket.

‘They come running just as fast as they can ‘cause every girl crazy bout a sharp-dressed man’

You lip sync along, not realising you’re being watched. Alastor smiles to himself and waits for his staff to be given back to him. When it is, he almost remarks about your Saturday outing. Almost.

In your bedroom, you stretch and yawn. It’s late and you need to be with Alastor relatively early, so you go about your nightly routine. Brushed teeth, silky pyjamas, all lotioned up, feeling amazing. That is, until you walk back to the area with the bed. You scream and jump, but your surprise is quickly replaced by anger. Alastor laughs from his comfy position against your pillows.

He points at you. “You are the chicken in this relationship.”

You get in beside him and try to shove him out of the bed, chuckling as he easily resisted. “What are you doing in here?”

He’s still laughing. “I came to collect you! Emergency broadcast.”

You groan loudly. “Absolutely fucking not!”

“Yes!” He wraps an arm around you and drags you up from the bed. “It won’t take too long.”

“Who the hell pissed you off this much that you have to do this right now, at two in the morning?” you asked.

The answer makes your stomach drop.

“Husker!” he says excitedly.

You flail. “No. No! No, Alastor, you can’t do that!”

“I assure you that I can,” he says, now picking you up and carrying you towards the radio tower. “Husker’s soul is mine to do what I want with it, and he knew that before he started making trouble tonight.”

“Alastor!” you shout. “Put me down!”

He looks confused, but carefully sets you down. There are tears on your face that confound him. “What is the matter, my dear?”

“You can’t kill Husk.” You wipe your eyes and sniffle. “You can’t. I know you can in the literal sense of the word. I know that you can, but you can’t, please, I am begging you not to do this. Please, Alastor.”

“Do not mourn for him,” Alastor says. “No one mourned him in life.”

“I think that’s not true,” you say, but take his hands, squeezing them. “Just, just tell me what he did. I’ll fix it. I swear, I’ll fix it.”

Alastor looks down at your hands, so much smaller than his, trying to calm him down. “You really care, hm?”

“Alastor, please, please,” you whisper, squeezing his hands again. “Alastor, don’t do it. I have never asked you for a thing and I never will again if you just please don’t do this. Please don’t kill him, he’s my friend. He’s a soul in the bank for you, but he’s my friend.”

He’s quiet for a very long time, watching your breakdown. You know how it looks. He hates weakness, he hates vulnerability—

Alastor puts his hand on the side of your face and pushes hair away. “Okay, darling. If you want Husker to keep dusting bottles and consuming their entire contents, then that you shall have.”

You feel embarrassed all of a sudden and wipe your eyes. “How about I make you a brisket instead?”

“No brisket is required,” he says. “If you want it then you will have it. I am a man of my word. I will find other means to discipline Husker.”

“Don’t hurt Angel,” you say immediately. “Please. They’re all afraid of you already, you don’t have to do anything to keep them in line. I don’t know what Husk did, but I don’t believe it warrants his death and it definitely doesn’t mean you can do something bad to the only thing he loves more than booze or gambling.”

“Okay,” Alastor agrees.

You blink. “I know it’s not that simple. What do you want?”

“Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?” he asks.

“Me? Personally?” You think for a moment before shaking your head. “No. But—“

“I’ve never given you a reason to doubt me,” Alastor says. “I have worked with you closely for months now. I do what I say I will do. If you want that damned cat and his spider to live and be unharmed then I will give you that.”

“What do you want in exchange? Don’t say my soul, I’m not giving it.”

“No, not your soul,” he says. “A simple deal.”

You stand up straighter. “A deal? What?”

“I let Husker and the spider go unharmed and you will in exchange never have intercourse with the circus freak.”

Your arms cross. “Alastor, that’s fucked up.”

“I know!” he says warmly.

After a moment, you reach your hand out towards him. He takes it in his and squeezes it, gentle and warm. You’ve seen his power, the green flashes of light.

But there are no green lights. His tentacles remain hidden. The floor doesn’t shake.

It wasn’t a real deal, but you said nothing about that. This was all very strange, and you didn’t know what to make of it. Taking his hand, you give it a pull.

“Come on,” you say. “Let’s go on air anyway. Come.”

He tuts at you. “Rather bossy tonight, my dear.”

“I’ll make sandwiches,” you offer, and he nods.

“Yes, you will make sandwiches—pastrami.”

‘I am just living to be lying by your side but I'm just about a moonlight mile on down the road’

Once Alastor takes the staff from you, he notices that you’ve fallen asleep in your chair. He rides the dark with you in his arms, depositing you safely into your bed.

The next night, for some reason, Husk makes sure your dirty martinis come with two olives and no complaints.

“You will go away from the hotel.”

You look up from your phone, your feet up on one of the panels you’ve been working on. “Excuse me?”

Alastor is stern, serious. His eyes betray no laughter, not a single joke. “You will leave the hotel.”

“No,” you say immediately.

“The Extermination is exactly one week from now, and you will leave the hotel. You will go someplace safe.”

“No,” you say again. “No, hell no, I’m not leaving you all by yourselves.”

“You would be more of a hindrance than help,” Alastor says, and ooph, that one hurt.

“You don’t even know how to defend yourself,” he continues.

“I’ve been doing my best,” you say.

“And that is not good enough, darling.”

Your chest falls and rises. “So you think I have nothing to offer to protect my friends and this hotel?”

Alastor pauses for a moment. “No. I know for a fact that you do.”

“Then what?” you ask. “Why do you want me to leave?”

Again, a few moments pass in silence before Alastor sits beside you. “You would trade something very precious to save this hotel and all of the fools who reside in it.”

”What? What is it? What am I going to give up that’s so special?”

“Your life,” he says. “If you are here, you will sacrifice your life in a trice just as soon as you see someone else is in danger. And I cannot have that. You will leave, this is not a request.”

Your eyes widen and you shake your head. “No. This is my home. This is where I work. This is my family—“

“You will listen to me now and you will listen good,” he says gravely. “I can protect this hotel and kill Adam or I can protect you. Those are the choices. I trust you will not make the selfish one.”

You close your eyes and let out a deep breath. You feel a cry coming on, but head it off at the pass. “What about you?”

“What about me, darling?” Alastor asks. “There is no way for you to help me. You know that.”

“I’m going to look like a coward,” you say.

“I do not care,” he says. “And you shouldn’t either. My priorities are to kill Adam and to protect you. Therefore, you will leave to someplace safe and you will wait for me to come for you.”

You scoff. “Where’s safe? Where’s safe during an Extermination?”

“They are coming to the hotel first and we will not allow them to go any further. You will be safe where I send you and you will stay there.”

Then he does something he’s never done before. Alastor pulls you into his embrace. “You have no idea what I would do to save you. No idea, you stupid, silly girl. You must go. You must.”

“Okay, okay,” you say finally.

“I could give or take almost anyone else in this boring little hovel of a hotel, but I can’t give you. I won’t. It’s very likely this radio tower will need some manner of repair. Who else would do it but you?” He holds you a little tighter.

You close your eyes and lean against him. “I really don’t want to leave you.”

“Because you are an idiot.”

At that, you start hitting him anywhere you can, but the two of you dissolve into laughter.

Eventually, you sigh. “When am I leaving?”

Alastor hums. “Tonight.”

“What?” you look at him again. “Why tonight?”

“I will have time to prepare. I won’t spend days worrying about getting you to leave. It is better that I have this time to focus,” he says. “I will take care of everything. Think of it as more of a vacation than anything else.”

“I won’t, but thank you,” you say. “What will you tell everyone?”

Alastor tilts his head. “About what?”

“About forcing me to leave the hotel because I’m apparently too weak and stupid to fight for it,” you say.

He tsks and shakes his head. “I do not care. Neither should you. But I suppose I will just tell them approximately one-quarter of the truth.”

“Which is what?” you ask.

“That I put my foot down and wouldn’t allow you to die for any of them.” Alastor rubs his face against yours. A confusing gesture, but not altogether out of place, given the tenor of the rest of the interaction.

“I don’t want to die, but—“

“But nothing,” he says. He gives you his staff. “Play one last song.”

You wince. “Okay, grim. No. I’m not playing a ‘last song’.”

He huffs. “The last song until next week, when all of this is over.”

“When all of this is over…” You lean back in your seat, tapping the staff as you think. “Can you…can we hop on the broadcast? For a while? Make it my last proper show until all of this is over?”

You swallow, your throat feeling tight.

“No, darling,” he says. “Not this time. Pick a good song.”

‘Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me! Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me! Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me! Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me!’

Alastor stares at you strangely throughout the entire song. He never once tries to take the staff away from you, not even during the repeated profanity—something that was forbidden. He says nothing of it when the song is done and he takes his staff back into his possession.

“Come.” He holds his arm out for you and you take it. You let him lead you out of the radio tower and you become unsettled as you descend the steps.

“Alastor, I don’t like this,” you say nervously.

“And neither do I,” he says as he guides you to your hotel room.

“Where are you sending me?”

He suddenly stops you once you’re inside the room, his clawed hand coming down to grip your shoulder. Hard.

“Alastor,” you chastise.

His grip only tightens. “I made a bargain for this and you will not piss it away.”

The night crashes down on you in the quiet of your bedroom.

“But where? You made a deal?”

“No, not a deal. More of a…trade which does not benefit me at all, save for it keeping you safe.”

“Alastor, where?” you ask, softly yet firmly.

“In an underground bunker beneath Rosie’s Emporium,” Alastor says finally. “No one would ever think to look there, not with all of Cannibal Town at the hotel, stupidly giving their own lives. Those lives mean nothing to me, nothing at all, but yours is something precious.”

“I’m just your engineer, you know.”

Alastor huffs. “No, you’re not.”

You lift a brow. “I’m not?”

“No.” He pauses. “You also make sandwiches.”

With a little laugh, you nod. “Pastrami.”

“Indeed. Pastrami. Now, pack up, darling. I’ll escort you to Cannibal Town. No, no one will try to eat you. You’ll be with my dearest friend, Rosie. You will be safe with her. If I had any doubts I would send you elsewhere.”

“Okay,” you say softly. “It’s going to be boring without you.”

“I, on the other hand, will finally know peace after six months.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up.”

“Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me.”

You laugh far too hard for it to be so late at night, but Alastor is smiling genuinely.

For a tenth of a second something changes. The way you look at each other…

“So,” he says, sitting at the foot of your bed, one ankle over his knee. “Have you been abiding by our agreement?”

You pull a suitcase from underneath the bed. “Which one? There are new ‘agreements’ every day.”

“Intercourse with Lucifer,” he says flatly.

“Oh Alastor, come on. What if he and I were in love?”

He just glares at you, darkness in his eyes.

“I haven’t seen the man in weeks!”

“Aha!” He points at you. “You would do it if given the chance, wouldn’t you?”

You tilt your head. “Why do you care so much, Al?”

“Because I want to separate him from all possible joy,” he says. “There’s no chance of doing that with Charlie, but I will deny him you.”

“You’re so fucking weird.”

“Shut up and pack.”

“Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me.”

Alastor picks up one of your pillows and throws it at you.

The extended visit with Rosie would be nice if every moment didn’t bring you anxiety so crippling that it cramped your stomach. She was kind, a gracious hostess, and she didn’t ask any prying questions, so neither did you. You were curious about the ‘trade’ Alastor had made for you—for you…

You leave every day for food, because you just cannot trust the provenance of anything in Cannibal Town, no matter how kind Rosie is. You listen to Alastor’s sporadic broadcasts and feel vindicated in how shitty it is without you. Gives you a smile. It sustains you to know that this man still needs you.

On your third day of going out for burritos, you receive a text message that makes you grin, fills you with joy you haven’t felt since you were yeeted from the hotel.

‘New ducks, want to see?’

The second you text back yes, a glowing portal opens and a hand yanks you inside.

“Lucifer!” you cry out happily, hugging him close.

He returns the embrace readily, arms tight around you. “I’m so glad you agreed! Here, let me show you the duck workshop.”

You smile and let him guide you. You and Lucifer just..mesh. It’s always been easier to talk to him than virtually anyone else. For as much as you listen to him about ducks, he listens to you about radio, as long as you don’t mention Alastor. That’s always been an unspoken understanding.

Lucifer rambles happily all the way to the workshop and you happily listen. Once inside, he gives you a little tour. The place is quite literally filled with rubber ducks of all different kinds—there was even a set of KISS ducks.

“This is my latest work,” Lucifer says, showing you a row of little ducks. He picks up one. “This one has wings just like mine! Well, you can’t currently see my wings, but that’s what they look like. There’s six, they’re red, that’s…pretty much it…”

He sounds strangely nervous.

“And this one’s Charlie…”

Yes, nervous.

“Maggie,” he says.

“Actually, her name is Vaggie,” you correct him.

“Oh, golly!” He covers his eyes with his hands, his face turning red. “I’ve been calling her Maggie every time and Charlie never corrected me.”

You chuckle softly. “It’s fine, I’m sure it’s fine. Don’t worry about that.”

He peeks at you from between his fingers. “You really think it’s okay?”

“Charlie probably just felt too awkward to correct you. You know how she is.”

“I hope so,” Lucifer says. “This one is the porn star. He shoots webs!”

You laugh when he demonstrates. “That’s so cool!”

“And this one,” he picks up one of the ducks gingerly, “this one is you!”

You gasp at the attention to detail and laugh joyfully. “That’s so cute, a little me!”

“She has a little radio and everything. And—“ Lucifer presses a button on the underside of the duck and the radio starts to play from its mouth. He looks at you with a wide grin and elbows you gently a few times. “Ah? Ah?”

You laugh again and clap. “Bravo, you outdid yourself. I never thought you would outdo the back-flipping rubber ducky that spits fire.”

“I surprise myself all the time,” Lucifer says happily, placing your duck back down beside his. “Do you have time for a drink?”

You laugh. “Honey, I’ve got nothing but time.”

“Good!” He takes your hand and guides you out of the workshop and through the halls until you arrive at a lavish lounge. He gestures for you to take a seat. “What’ll you have?”

“Oh, whatever you’re having, please.”

Lucifer pours two whiskeys and sits in the chair across from yours beside a fire that emits a cool breeze.

“Thank you so much,” you say when he hands yours to you.

“It’s nothing,” he says. “Charlie told me…you left the hotel.”

You take a deep breath. “Yes, I did. I’ve been staying in Cannibal Town.”

“Why did you go?” he asks softly.

Now you sigh, hoping to keep all emotion from your voice. “Alastor thinks I’m more of a hindrance than a help and wants me to stay away.”

His diamond pupils constrict. “What an asshole.”

“He needs me to help repair the radio tower, when all is said and done.”

“You’re too good for this, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

Lucifer takes a drink. “I mean you’re too good to work on a show that’s just screams and crappy puns. That guy is a clown. You should host your own show.”

“Oh, I haven’t been on air in like…fourteen years. I don’t even know what I would talk about or play. I like being an engineer. It’s cathartic to me. Alastor might not have the most exciting show around, and he’s absolutely horrible, but it’s…hm, I’ve made it sound really bad, haven’t I?”

“Why do you give that guy your loyalty? Why do you feel so beholden to him?” he asks.

Your focus softens. “I…we have a good time together. I think. He likes the sandwiches that I make him.”

“I can almost guarantee that this loyalty means nothing to him,” Lucifer says. “I’m not saying that to hurt you.”

You sigh. “Yeah, I know Luci.”

“Why do you stay, then? Is he paying you?”

“Actually yeah, in a way he does.”

Lucifer cocks a brow and motions for you to continue.

“Oh, he just gives me things, not money. He doesn’t, uh, properly believe that hell should have a currency system. In his opinion it should all be bartering, like soul deals. Therefore, he barters with me. I give him sandwiches and briskets and engineering services, he gives me…just about anything. Last week he gave me a ruby necklace that must be worth a few thousand dollars.”

“You give him briskets?”

You nod. “Oh yeah, there’s always some brisket action going on. He doesn’t know it yet, but there’s a venison brisket in the works.”

“So you work together, you make him food, he gives you expensive jewellery?”

“Other things too, but yes.” You nod again. “That’s the gist. We have a good back-and-forth, but my favourite is getting to play music at the end of his broadcasts.”

Lucifer smiles softly at you. “Those are the only parts worth tuning in for.”

Your face lights up., a big grin and bright eyes. “You’ve heard?”

He nods. “Yeah. I try to catch it. The last one said fuck a lot.”

You laugh, head back against the chair. “Yeah, it did.”

“I’ll give you a radio station of your own. Be his competition,” he said.

Now you sigh. “I actually do like to work with him a lot. He’s…he’s not all bad. He’s always done right by me.”

Lucifer scoffs. “That won’t last. You can’t seriously rely on that to stay stable. Just as soon as he decides he doesn’t need you, he’ll get rid of you. Somehow or another. He’s just…one of the worst sorts of sinners, and he’s proud to be the way that he is. And you? You’re hardly like a sinner at all. I always seem to forget it.”

It’s hard to hear those things about Alastor, even harder because you know they’re probably in some way true.

You’re lost in thought until you hear him repeating your name. “Oh! So sorry, million miles away.”

“Let me get you another drink. Do you want something other than whiskey, maybe?” he asks, sounding somewhat insecure, a little tremor in his voice. “W-what do you normally take?”

You play with a rubber duck on the table and hope it doesn’t spit fire at you. “Dirty martini, two olives. Sounds weird, giving the king of hell a drink order.”

“Nonsense!” Lucifer comes over with a little drink tray, all cheerful. Sweet. He looks so happy that it warms you.

“I should see you more,” you say. “You’re fun to be around and I love ducks.”

He gives a nervous laugh and sits down, passes your drink to you. “You should definitely see me more! Gosh, that would be terrific. I can make you so many ducks!”

“What are you going to work on next?” you ask.

He winks. “I’ll keep you apprised.”

You wink back, smiling. “I’ll be waiting.”

God, there was nothing you wouldn’t give to be on air with Alastor right now. It hits you, causes a slight tremor in your body.

Lucifer gasps. “Are you okay? Is it the drink? I don’t actually know what a dirty martini is so I…May have poisoned you?”

“No! No!” You laugh and shake your head. “No, the drink is fine. To make a martini dirty you just put a bit of olive brine in.”

“Let me try again,” he says, but you stand and stop him.

“Luci, no, really, it’s okay,” you say. “Promise. See?” You drain the contents of the wine glass he had served the ‘martini’ in. Your lower eyelid gives you away, though.

“Oh God,” Lucifer says, hand covering his eyes.

You pull it away gently. “It’s okay, Luci.”

You stay that way, eyes on each other, for a moment that stretches indefinitely.

By the end of it, Lucifer kisses you. Hesitant, gentle. His hand reaches the back of your neck and by now you’re kissing back. Things are happening quickly. Somehow you wind up on one of the couches together, your back to the cushion, him on top of you…

Oh, no.

You break the kiss and sit up. “Sorry. Sorry, Luci. Sorry.”

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks in rushed voice, a slight shake to it.

“No.” You rub your eyes and smack your forehead.

All you could think of was Alastor. The little promise you made in exchange for Husk’s life. You doubted that he would actually kill Husk if he found out…but you couldn’t handle how…he would react.

“Lucifer, I…” But you couldn’t tell him that Alastor was the one keeping him from getting laid.

“I don’t understand,” Lucifer says. “I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you say softly, squeezing his hand. “I can’t help but notice you’re still wearing your ring.”

“Oh, is that why…? Oh, no, sweetheart, no, I just…Lilith isn’t going to come back to me. I can take it off, it’s just hard to when it’s been…such a long time, being married. I can take it off, sweetheart, don’t worry.”

You squeeze his hand again, gently. “It’s time for me to leave.”

“Oh…Okay,” he says softly. “Yes, of course. You don’t have to stay, just…I don’t want this to be the last time I see you.”

You smile at him, trying your best to instill confidence. “You’ll see me again. Show me to the door?”

“No, absolutely not,” he says. “It’s dangerous! I’ll take you back to Cannibal Town. That’s also…pretty dangerous, you know.”

“Not for me.” That you can say with confidence of your own.

“Come on.” Lucifer reaches for your hand. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to do it again. Just take my hand and I’ll bring you back. You don’t even know where you are right now.”

Well, he’s got you beat there. You squeeze his hand one more time. “Okay. Let’s go.”

You close your eyes for this part.

When you hear a whispered goodbye, you open your eyes and you’re standing before the Cannibal Town gates, alone.

“Do you think that you walk freely all throughout hell, not a care in the world, for no reason?”

Your whole body tightens at the sound of his voice. “Have you just been standing there waiting for me to show up?”

“Not quite,” Alastor says. “Answer my question.”

You sigh, eyes rolling hard. “I’m sure it’s because of you.”

“Correct! So you’re at least that smart.”

You trudge out a path set to finally get you the illusive burrito. “Alastor, I’m not in the mood. I’m hungry, I’m tired, and my absence is definitely noticed at the hotel.”

He appears in front of you. “And how do you know that? Who told you, hm?”

You sigh. “You know who I was with?”

Alastor’s claws grab your arm and then you’re in the radio tower. It nearly knocks the breath out of you and you collide with one of the panels.

“God!” You wince as your knee crashes against a sharp corner. “Hey asshole, I thought I wasn’t allowed to be here! I am so sick of being yanked around today! All I wanted—“

“I ask so little of you,” he interrupts.

Your jaw drops. “Are you serious? You? Ask me? For little?”

“The only commitment I have ever asked of you is not to have sex with that fucking man!”

“And I didn’t!” you shout before pulling out your phone. “Here, see? He just wanted to show me new rubber ducks that he made. And you know what? Mine was adorable, and she played radio when you pressed her button.”

“Am I supposed to understand this innuendo?” he asks, his voice rising.

“I didn’t sleep with him, Alastor! I don’t know what else you want me to say! I almost did, I would have, and it’s all your fucking fault that I didn’t. Someone expressed interest in me and I couldn’t act on it because I made some fake pact with you over it. I should have, God knows I need it.”

“Oh do you?” Alastor steps closer, but you don’t back down.

“Yes!” you yell. “Yes I do, but the only fucking thing I ever do is go on the goddamn radio with you!”

“Such a horrible fate!”

You cover your face with curling fingers. “Take me back to Rosie’s. Take me back to Rosie’s, Alastor. You don’t want me here, remember?”

“Of course I want you here, you fucking imbecile!”

Your anger ebbs slightly. “You do?”

“Yes! I want all of the things you do and I want them all the time! I tried to make my own sandwiches and everything! I was self-sufficient before you, you know. I never needed anyone for anything, then you walked into this hotel and insisted your way into my life, wrecking it up as you went!” Alastor takes a deep breath, trying to ground himself, trying to calm himself. “So now that I need you and go to great pains to keep you safe, you tell me that you want to sleep with that little blond gremlin?”

“How were the sandwiches?”

“Dry and uninteresting!” Alastor grabs you by your arms. “God damn you!”

“What? What?” you yell. “What do you want, Alastor? As far as I can tell, you got me out of the hotel, out of your way, right where you wanted me to be. I was going out for a fucking burrito because I can’t trust the food in Cannibal Town!”

“I advised Rosie very carefully about your dietary preferences,” he says.

“Well, hell, thanks,” you say in a much quieter tone. After a moment, you go sit in your usual spot. “Why did you bring me here, Alastor? My name must be mud around here.”

“No, it isn’t.” Alastor sits across from you. “They just blame me, and that is fine.”

“I really think you two should put all this behind you,” you say.

“The two of us? We won’t be putting anything behind us, darling.”

“Actually!” You point at him. “I was talking about you and him. The guy you call a circus freak, a blond gremlin.”

“Ha! No. Try again, dearest.”

You just roll your eyes and rub your temples. “I’m seriously so hungry and so tired. What do you want to hear?”

“I—.” Alastor cuts himself off. “You. And I…it’s your fault, all of this is your fault!”

“Okay! Fine! It’s my fault. Now what do you want to do?” you ask.

Alastor jerks you up from your seat and kisses you, hard. You feel his fingertips fan over the tops of your shoulders, drumming once before holding tight.

It’s so absolutely stunning that it takes a moment to respond at all, but that doesn’t seem to slow him down. Your heart beats so hard in your chest that you can almost hear it, and, oh, damn, this is what had been missing, fulfilling a craving that you had never known. This was what blood was for, what hands were for, why breath existed.

His hands move lower down your body as the quick seconds pass like butterflies all down your skin and to your bones.

You pull away just to catch a breath and his whole body tenses.

“What?” you ask, panting.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks.

You shake your head. “No, Al, not even a little bit. Just couldn’t breathe, blood’s all rushing.”

Alastor’s fingertips trail deliciously above your belly. “Do you know what I want?”

You swallow, lips pressing together. “Tell me.”

His thumb traces down your throat now. “I want to possess you so completely that you forget all but my name.”

His lips follow the path of his hands, surprisingly soft and warm against your neck. “Everything about you was made for me. Everything. I am never letting you go, do you understand me?” His tone was gravely serious, but with an undercurrent of…love. Yes, it was love, yearning and…maybe a bit of uncertainty. He could not hide that, not from you.

“Let’s go to my room,” you say quietly when he pulls away, and in an instant you’re there. Everything looks the same, thankfully. You go to the bed and sit at the foot of it, leaning back on your elbows.

Alastor comes and stands before you, just looking down, watching. When he finally moves, it’s to put both hands underneath your shirt and push it up, every bit of skin revealed covered in goosebumps. He slowly pushes the shirt up and up until your arms lift and it comes over your head.

“Why are you choosing to do this now?” you ask as he works on your bra.

“Because you said that you needed it and I take your needs very seriously,” he responds.

“Whoa.” You grab at my hands. “No, it’s not just me, you have to be into it too.”

Alastor laughs suddenly. “How about I show you how ‘into it’ I am? Kind of you to make certain, darling.”

“I don’t ever want to make you feel like you have to, because you’re…”

He plays with one of your exposed breasts thoughtfully. “You are kind for that, too. Perfect, really. Darling, I do whatever feels good, in all things that I do. This is good, I have simply never felt that way before you and your goddamn radio expertise and your fucking sandwiches and, oh, the briskets.”

Alastor sighs and moves on to the other one. “I have never wanted this before, and that is meaningful to me. It isn’t all I want, but I want you in all other ways so much that it makes me crave you. My hands on your body, your hands on mine. I’ve waited long enough to know that I am certain. Are you?”

“You are a discovery,” you say. “You unlocked things I didn’t realise were there. I want you badly.”

“It’s not just what the spider calls ‘general horniness’?”

You pull him down and kiss him several times before responding. “No, it isn’t. If it wasn’t specific to you, I could just as well bedded Luci. I had every opportunity earlier tonight. But I was always going to turn him down. I did so because I thought of how disappointed and angry you would have been.”

“You’re goddamn right I would have been,” he says as he climbs over you. “So perfect, just for me…”

You like the weight of him on top of you. He’s careful not to squish you, but it feels so warm and solid. There’s a shiver up your spine as he touches you, as this coat and shirt brush against your breasts. You go to card your fingers through his hair and accidentally brush against the base of one of his ears and you can see the physical reaction, the little tremors of pleasure, the moan of an ecstasy promised.

“Okay?” you ask gently, doing it again.

Alastor nods quickly. “Yes, don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”

You played with his ear while his tongue, lips, and teeth made their way across your throat and neck. The higher you went, the more aggressive he got, leaving little nips and bites everywhere.

You push him when you decide more clothes have to come off—his in particular. He looks confused for a half-second before you’re carefully removing his coat. You place it carefully on a chair near the bed, but almost rip the shirt off of him.

He gives a little huff of laughter. “Eager, are we darling?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” you say, hauling him in to kiss him again.

You love the feeling of your bare chests pressed together. Alastor’s breathing starts to come more quickly than before.

It’s you going after his neck, this time. You can hear something strangled in his throat, the vibrations of it against your lips. “You don’t have to hide anything from me.”

“Forgive me, darling. I am new to this.”

“Is it the very first time?”

He hums. “Technically no. Once, when I was a teenager, a very long time ago. I barely remember it at all, but I know it was nothing like this.”

You smile against his neck and nuzzle softly. “Doesn’t matter, you’ll know what to do.”

“I have every confidence in us both. We know each other on a professional and emotional level of intimacy, I doubt physical intimacy will be the thing that does us in.”

“It may be a bit early days, but I hope nothing ever does,” you say.

He cradles the back of your head to keep your lips close to his neck. He huffs. “Early days, my ass. If I was not sure about you I would not have started anything. If any part of you is unsure, I will make it sure. I promise that I won’t be a regret.”

You kiss your way down the side of his neck. “Lucifer would have been a regret. You will not be.”

He huffs. “As gratifying as that is to hear, please do not mention the circus freak during physical intimacy ever again. Or ever again in general, if possible.”

You laugh softly and hold him close. “I’ll never mention him in this context ever again, I promise.”

“I am much obliged, my love.” Alastor tugs at the jeans you’re wearing, but, having no experience with such garments, he doesn’t seem to realise they have to be unzipped first.

You reach between your bodies to help him out.

“Such complicated garments,” he says beneath his breath.

“No more complicated than yours! Your trousers unzip too, don’t they?” you ask.

“It is called a double standard, darling, and as per usual, unfortunately for you, it works out in my favour.” Alastor gets you down to your underwear and plays with the elastic waistband. “I would like to make something abundantly clear to you, darling. I will give you this one last chance.”

“For what?” you ask, kissing down his neck, the tip of his ear between your fingers. You feel it twitch.

“No, no, stop that for a moment, darling,” he says, so you do. When you’ve stopped and he’s got you looking at him again, he continues. “For just a moment, while you listen to this. I am telling you right now that you are reaching the point of no return. Once I have taken you, you will belong to me for eternity. That is not a hyperbole, it is reality. I will never allow you to leave me. Along with that promise, I promise to keep you safe, always, just as I am now, even if it means temporarily being away from me. I promise to love you. I promise you will want for nothing; everything that is in my power to give you, which is exhaustive and far-reaching, any little want or need you have, I will give it to you.”

You smile at him. “I don’t have as much to offer, but I’ll be the best damn radio engineer, the best damn brisket-maker, the best damn friend, and the best damn…”

“Mate,” he supplies.

“The best damn mate, I’ll be that,” you promise.

“You accept?” Alastor asks, and when you nod, he kisses you hard. “You are perfect. So good. And you understand? Completely? You have no doubts? Because there will be no other appropriate time to feel them. This is a permanent arrangement that you should not take lightly.”

“Trying to talk me out of it?”

“Trying not to be a regret,” he says, and it makes your expression warm.

“You aren’t and you won’t be,” you promise. “You were the answer to all the questions I didn’t know I was asking of myself from the moment I met you. I didn’t know, but it was always there, and now, like…I don’t know how to describe it. There’s not a lot of blood flowing to my brain, you know.”

He chuckles once and nods. “Then I will not ask you again. It is settled now, is it?”

“It is.”

“Good.” Alastor hooks his thumb into the elastic of your underwear indelicately and pulls them down and off your body.

You don’t even know how many naked people Alastor has seen. It’s possible he hasn’t seen another person naked since the first time with someone, so many years ago. He seems to know exactly what he’s doing, though.

“Well, now that the matter is settled.” Alastor lifts you up and places your head on a pillow. “There is something I have wanted to do since I met you. It was a strange craving, something that should have warned me of what was to come.”

“What’s the strange craving?” you ask, but rather than answer verbally he rolls his tongue between your leg, right against your clit, and you moan rather loudly with surprise.

Alastor laughs quietly to himself. “Enjoying yourself, darling?”

“Ohhhh God,” was all you could manage.

He licks your clit again before his tongue dips inside you, and when it does, Alastor elongates it—this shocks you, causes a gasp and a full-body shiver. You never thought such a thing was possible, and it’s certainly…a new experience. He rubs at your clit with his thumb while his tongue works inside you. He keeps your legs apart with his broad shoulders, tongue massaging against your walls until he reaches a spot that makes you scream. He laughs softly against your flesh and you’re panting now.

“Alastor…” Your legs tense up around him, muscles straining. He’s moaning against you as he works your body like he owns it, and maybe he does now. Your thighs tense around him and you…you’re getting louder.

“Is there something you can do about the noise?” you ask, even though you hate stopping him.

He keeps rubbing your clit while he speaks. “I can. But I will not. Louder.”

Alastor goes right back to it, his tongue working you hard, and he forces you to get louder just from the way his tongue moves against your walls.

“Oh, fuck…Oh, Al, don’t stop, please don’t stop…yeah…yeah, like that, like that…” Your breath comes in harder and harder, faster and faster, until you’re screaming, until your thighs are aching, until your pussy is so overstimulated that he pulls back with an enormous grin on his face.

He sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, but mercifully only briefly. “Tell me when I can take you.”

“Just a moment,” you pant. “Not a long wait, just a few minutes.”

“Very good,” Alastor says. “I’ll take other pleasure from other parts of your body in the meantime then, darling.”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “You do that, Al. Fucking hell.”

His tongue swirls along your nipple. “Yes darling?”

“You really took that one from the soul,” you say with a soft, shaky laugh. You nudge his shoulder. “Okay. I’m ready.”

“You’re sure?”

You nod a few times. “Yeah, yeah. Ready to go.”

You press your back down against the blankets, your head flat against the pillow. Alastor kneels between your knees and shoves them far apart, making plenty of room for himself. You’re silently grateful that he still seems to know exactly what to do—you’d gladly teach him if you had to, but it was so much better this way. He takes himself in hand and rubs the head of his cock from your clit and down, watches your muscles involuntarily jump slightly, a wide smirk on his face. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his shadow cast upon the wall, the elongated horns, that starving grin.

“I see you’ve noticed him,” Alastor says, entering you all at once. “Keep your eyes on me, dear. Pay him no mind.”

“You consider him separate from you?” you ask, your body adjusting to the size of him easily.

Alastor, however, does not seem to be having such an easy go of things. There is a look of concentration on his face, his lip between his teeth. It takes a moment for him to reply. “I consider him an echo of me. I’ll warn you now, I do not know how conversational I will be from this point on.”

“All the same,” you wink at him. “It’s not your conversation I’m after at the moment.”

It takes almost no time at all to get loud for him again, but this time it wasn’t just you being pleasured. This was a new world for Alastor and he was lost in it, captive to it. His hands grip at your hips as he fucks you harder and harder, the mattress shaking beneath you. Soon the headboard smacks against the wall and you thank God there’s no one on the other side.

“Al!” You hook one knee around his waist. “Al, please, deeper.”

He grabs your other knee and pulls it around him so he can get a better angle. He moves to whisper in your ear. “You feel so soft inside, like velvet. So warm, so hot…like that little pop of heat when you stand with your back to a fireplace…”

You moan loudly, feeling yourself get wetter and wetter around him, the sound slick and obscene. You can hear him curse, how his hips snap faster and faster until he finally spills his seed in you, fucking you through it.

Alastor’s damp forehead connects with your shoulder and you can feel his breath coming harsh against it. His hands soften their hard grip on your thighs and fall away, moving up to your waist, your ribs, one thumb against your nipple.

You play with his hair, with one of his ears, but it doesn’t seem to rile him up again, which was good, because you didn’t want to be told to stop. You turn your head against his and kiss his hair.

“Okay?” you ask after a while.

Upon hearing your voice, he lifts his head and then himself off of you. He crashes on his back beside you, his arm coming up around you, pulling you to him.

“I am so…so grateful that it was you,” he says. “I am grateful to have you. Forever. You and I will create a home next week, here at the hotel. It is well within my power to do. It can be any way you like. You should jot down ideas while you’re at Rosie’s.”

You groan. “I have to go back to Rosie’s, don’t I?”

“Yes, my lovely,” he says. “You will still reside at Rosie’s for the duration of this week until the Extermination is through and we are free to do as we please. We do not have to go straight back into radio. Maybe…we take some time to ourselves. It will be well-earned.”

“You’re going to need a break in general,” you say, pushing sweat-slicked hair out of his eyes. “You’re doing so much for all of us. I can’t believe you’re going to kill Adam.”

“Believe it, my love,” he says softly. “Believe me. This is our future.”

“I do believe you. I trust you,” you say. “And I’m sorry for being so bratty about being sent away. I am effectively useless in any type of fight scenario. I would hold everyone back.”

“You would sacrifice yourself too easily. I never said those things to hurt you, I said them because I feared what would happen to you.”

“I know,” you whisper. “I know.”

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wardenparker · 3 days ago

Text

In the Still of the Night, ch 3

Zach Wellison x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Grown up and looking to the future, Zach Wellison and bunkmate Shane Morrissey are working for a new cruise line that offers its guests a vintage Vegas experience on the Mediterranean. The romantic atmosphere is rubbing off on many of the crew members, and Zach finds himself to be no exception when he meets the beautiful lead singer of Shane's band.

But being wrapped in the seductive arms of an atmospheric cruise is a far cry from real life. How will their relationship fare on dry land? They can't know unless they try.

Rating: E for Explicit 18+ Word Count: 8.8k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this story include: Cursing, alcohol, food, cooking, eating, discussion of clothing/costumes. Mentions of prison time served, mentions of past homelessness.* Flirting, still a little awkwardness, blindfold, sensory deprivation, foreplay, oral sex (female receiving). Summary: Your day out with Zach gets more intense at every turn. Notes: Hopefully you're all enjoying the prolonged date as much as we -- and they -- are! (As always, chapter gifs are for the vibes, not to physically describe the characters.)

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2

It isn't hard for anyone who sees you during the rest of the day to spot the dreamy couple out on a date. The older woman who shows you to your table at the restaurant Zach picked out for dinner gives you a wink in agreement that he's an absolute cutie pie and comes back a few minutes later with two glasses of wine and a candle for your table despite none of the others having one set out.

He had chosen a restaurant that was more local than tourist and had been thrilled when there was no formal dress code. Eager to sit down with you after so much walking and talk about more of anything and everything that has been the topics of the day. “So how did you start out singing?” He asks curiously.

“My elementary school had a chorus.” It might be the first time in hours you haven’t been holding hands, but you’re still smiling as you sit side by side with your wine watching the sun set. “I stuck with it because I was a kid and it was fun, then the dance lessons got added, and then as I got older I realized that I also liked theater. It became a combination.”

“So you were a theatre kid.” He nods in understanding. He hadn’t been, but he had been friends with some and understood the passion of performing even if he didn’t have it.

“That’s how I ended up in New York.” You tell him, expression twisting into something like regret. “Just another small town kid convinced they could be the next Broadway star. Obviously that didn’t happen.”

“But you tried.” He reminds you, leaning against your shoulder and wishing he could take away the sadness. “Some people never try.”

“I go between thinking that maybe I should have tried harder, and wondering why I ever bothered at all.” With that offer of support there, you lean against his shoulder in turn and shrug gently. “It is what it is, I guess. But…how did you start cooking?”

Zach sighs softly, knowing that it would eventually come up. “Actually, I just started cooking a few years ago.” He admits.

“You did?” That surprises you enough to turn your head and look at him more fully. “So it’s just at natural talent, then?”

“I guess?” He shrugs slightly. “I got a job working in a kitchen. Saved my life.” He tells you. “Threw myself into it and experimented as much as I could and read everything I could get my hands on.”

“So you stumbled into your calling.” There is something else there, something he doesn’t want to tell you, so you don’t push. “That’s wonderful, though. Some people never find what they’re meant to do in their whole lives.”

“It helps with my anxiety.” He admits with a self deprecating grin. “So I decided that it was the best thing for me. One day I’d like to have a restaurant. One that I can plan every detail, down to free meals for the homeless.”

“I love that.” Without hesitation, the idea is not only a kind one but one you can tell means a great deal to him. “Some places have a system where you can pay for meals for others in advance, too. System like that can be used to pay for extra supplies so no one ever has to be turned away.”

“That would be amazing.” He’s had benefited from that kind of system before, but not often. And he knows how uplifting a good, hot meal can be when you are down.

"You can make it happen." Something in your gut tells you that he can and he will, and even though you have no stake in it, you can't help but feel proud of him for that.

“I’m hoping.” He flashes you a grateful grin. Even your confidence in him sounds so sure when he’s always wondered if he can succeed. “The club on the ship has given me so many ideas.”

"I've been eating your ideas," you remind him with a grin. "And they're fantastic. You're really good, Zach. Any place would be lucky to have you and any team would be lucky to have you lead them."

“What about you?” He asks. “This has to be a stepping stone for you. I’ve already heard from the crew that you might have some head hunters after you.” One of the passengers was apparently connected in the music industry and had been in to the club several nights.

"If I do, that's news to me." Whatever murmurings Zach has heard, you haven't. But you would be lying if you claimed not to be curious. "I don't know, honestly. I think I would rather be a headliner in a little club than wave a rose in a Broadway chorus for the rest of my life. But the chances of either are relatively slim." You take a sip of your wine and offer him a smile, shrugging one shoulder. "In my dreams I'm getting top billing in the biggest musicals and you're running the most popular restaurant in the country. Ultimate New York City power couple."

“That sounds amazing.” Zach chuckles. “Actually, running this style club, I think it would work in New York.” He tells you. “A dinner club.”

"I know it's something that you see in retirement communities in Florida, but I have always loved dinner theater." His laugh is sweet and deep and rolls through you like a wave of joy. "This club is such a great gig for people like us."

“Yes it is, but imagine….” He sighs softly. “Creating a headliner show like you would see in Vegas, right in New York and pairing it with a daily changing menu like we do here.”

"New York would love a show like that." It sounds so doable when he says it. Like a dream you could reach for and pluck out of the sky.

“It would be sold out.” He agrees, flashing a hopeful smile. “One day, maybe if I had the right singer to run the show side of things.”

"I guess you're going to have to get to know some singers then, aren't you?" His bright smile is reflected right back at him, teasing as always but it's because part of you can't dare to dream this big for yourself. Only for him.

“I will.” He nods and shrugs. “Maybe hold auditions or something. Singing for your supper?”

"That's what most of us do." You agree, not wanting your smile to flicker at all even if the memories sting. "Sometimes literally."

Zach catches the change, the dimming of the light in your eyes and he knows that he’s touched on a sensitive topic for you. “I get it.” He promises quietly. “I think I gravitated towards cooking because I knew if I was making food for others, I would not have that gnawing ache of hunger ever again.” He licks his lips. “Food insecurity, the therapist called it.”

Your heart sinks, chest tightening, and you nod as you slip your hand back into his. "I wish I was more surprised to find out that more than a few of us have been there. But a job like ours...with guaranteed housing and meals and a way to save money for months at a time? It makes sense that it would attract people who have had it hard."

Of course you would be understanding. His eyes close as he nods, feeling a little choked up by the compassion in your voice and the understanding in your touch. “Absolutely. And I hate that you’ve had a moments bad luck.” He murmurs. “You deserve so much.”

"So do you." You squeeze his hand gently. "Bad luck doesn't make us bad people."

“Not at all.” His hand slips from yours and his arm wraps around your shoulders protectively. “Now - before we start choking up, what do you want to try?” He wants this date to be nothing but a lovely moment for you and he tries to steer the conversation to more positive thoughts.

Without saying another word about it, you turn your head to kiss his cheek and refocus on the menu in his hands. They have enough tourists in town that the menu from this restaurant has one-sentence item descriptions in English that simply tell non-Greek speakers the main ingredients of each dish. A quick glance around you shows you that everything here seems to be served family style, and you settle in Zach's side again happily.

"How does this sound?" You ask, pointing out the special. Gamopilafo. The menu says, with Arnáki Stamnagathi. "Greek risotto with lamb and vegetables?"

“That sounds amazing.” Zach groans happily and nods. “Do you want to get that and something else?” He doesn’t want you to share with him if you are just trying to make the bill cheaper, he can afford paying for dinner.

"It looks like it's family style? Maybe we can get another side dish to go with it so we can try more?" You shrug slightly, knowing that food was just a topic of some stress for both of you. "Sharing sounds nice. But not if you don't want to."

“I’m not opposed to sharing at all.” He promises, leaning in and nudging his nose to yours. “I’ll share anything with you.”

"Promises, promises." It's too tempting to have him close and not indulge in another kiss, but you keep it short and chaste in case Zach isn't too into public displays of affection. The half dozen or so kisses that you have shared today have been relatively private so you want to respect that for him.

Zach smiles, beams really. “What else do you want, baby?” The term of endearment slips out, but he doesn’t try to take it back or apologize. Feeling like it’s just the natural next step of this amazing day.

While the honest answer is him, that isn't what he's asking so you pull yourself out of the dirty thoughts you've been having on and off all damn day and look back down at the menu. In the top section there is something that lists cheese, fruit, bread, and flavored local olive oil, so you point that out. "Cretan charcuterie plate to start?"

“I think that’s a good idea.” Zach agrees and smiles at you. “We can see if we can come up with our own ideas for a board.”

"We'll have enough menu ideas for three new restaurants if we let our imaginations wander." Which is not a bad thing at all, but it does have both of you grinning when the waitress comes over to take your order.

Zach orders for the both of you, checking in with his eyes to make sure that it’s everything you want and hands the menu over with a pleasant smile for the waitress. Enjoying the knowing glances she shoots between the two of you. “I think that she thinks we are newlyweds or something.” He confesses quietly when she walks away. “What do you think?”

“Maybe.” Don’t be so you, you remind yourself for the hundredth time in your head. “I don’t know how many people come around here being cuddly on a fantastic day-long first date.”

“It has been fantastic, hasn’t it?” He muses, reminding himself that neither one of you has walked away or even been upset today. Not really.

“I think so.” There are clearly more things to talk about in your future, but today has left you optimistic that that future could exist. “I’m glad you do, too.”

“So, what’s your favorite type of wine?” He asks. “With charcuterie? Are you a white wine or sangria girl?”

“I’m a whatever wine you serve me kind of girl,” you tell him with an amused laugh. “But I do love sangria. There are very few things that aren’t made better with a glass of sangria or a margarita.”

“A margarita; huh?” He smirks. “Salt on the rim or sugar?”

“Depends on the flavor.” After all, your palate isn’t nonexistent, it’s just uneducated. “But usually salt.”

“A watermelon margarita is my favorite.” He admits. “Salt and sugar on the rim.”

“Salt and sugar?” That has you raising an eyebrow. “Color me intrigued.”

“It’s delicious.” He chuckles. “Goes with a hamburger or ribs. Drinks just like water.”

“That sounds incredible.” It sounds absolutely mouthwatering, actually, and you crack a grin. “Maybe I’m just really hungry.”

“Next crew party why don’t we do sliders and margaritas?” He offers. “I think you’d love it.”

“It sounds amazing.” You can agree to that without hesitation. “But I would also eat an old sneaker if it came out of your kitchen, so just know I’m always here for your food.”

“So boil shoe leather.” He pretends to make a note and laughs when you shove him playfully.

“You boil shoe leather and I’ll sing scales off key. Our worst work night ever.”

Zach throws his head back and laughs. The deep, belly laugh of a man who is completely convinced that it possible could happen and finds it up-roaringly funny. “You’re perfect.”

“You’re perfect.” He doesn’t need to know that a musical lyric sprung to mind instantly. He doesn’t need to know that you’ve been thinking it for an hour or more now. But you do hope he knows that the absolute affection shining in your eyes is honest and real.

He hums, not exactly able to take a compliment as well as he can give one. Instead he clinks his wine glass against yours. “To being perfect together.” He offers with a smile.

Neither of you take compliments well, you note with a smile, but drink deeply from your glass and enjoy a private smile that he unknowingly completed the thought of the song lyric in your head. “I know you’re supposed to wait until the end of the date to say it,” you set down your glass, thank the waitress when she brings over the first course, and restart your thought after a few seconds. “But I really think we should do this again.”

Zach’s heart leaps at your comment, happy that you have said that. “Well, of course we should.” He agrees, winking at you as he starts to dip a crusty piece of bread into the seasoned olive oil. “But I was thinking maybe we spend a little more time together on the ship when we can?”

"We could always skip the crew parties now and then to have time to ourselves." Following suit, you dive into the cheese board along with him. The cured olives and soft cheese are calling your name. "I wouldn't mind that at all."

“I mainly go to the crew parties to see you.” Zach confesses with a shy smile, offering you the dipped bread after he’s spread a bit of goat’s cheese on top of it.

"I–" Your eyes drop, your whole face heats, and you clear your throat before offering him an olive that you have stuffed with a pinch of soft sheep's milk cheese. "I go to the crew parties to see you."

Zach snorts and shakes his head. “We are pathetic.” He teases. “Mooning over each other and not even aware of it until Shane makes you take me a drink.”

"He tried to tell me," you admit after trying the bite that Zach made for you. Like everything else he's ever fed you, it's perfect. "I just...didn't really think I had a shot."

“He would always talk about you.” He huffs. “Making that crush I was suffering under nearly unbearable.” He smirks. “I guess he was hoping to push me into making a move.”

“And when you didn’t, he pushed me instead.” Which is a very Shane thing to do, really. He’s always been a little bit too cocky for his own good. “He’s like my big brother. So it makes perfect sense that he would meddle endlessly.”

“He basically adopted me once we became roommates.” Zach agrees. “He’s a good guy with a surprisingly big heart.”

“It took him a while to get there,” you acknowledge, not quite knowing how much of Shane’s story he had shared with Zach. “But now that he has? He’ll be damned if he doesn’t help everyone that he can.”

“Yeah.” Zach nods. “From what he’s told me, he’s completely different than when he was first sent away.”

“He showed me a picture once. Oh how he dresses and everything back then.” Just keeping the topic about appearance is lighthearted. That way you don’t dip too far into past seriousness. “Even if that was the only thing that changed, he really is a completely different guy now.”

“Jet black hair.” Zach snorts, shaking his head. “Dude has amazing hair now. I’m a little jealous of it.” Shane still has earrings, but he’s no longer sporting the goth edge he had back in his younger years.

“Do you ever think about growing yours out?” Zach still has short-trimmed hair that is probably a cinch to take care of, but he might look great with it longer.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve worn it long.” He admits, rubbing his hand up the back of his head. “Since high school.” He snorts. “But I’ve not given it a lot of thought, honestly. Why? You think it would look good longer?” He asks, curious about your preferences. Everyone has them, it’s like preferring clean shaven over a beard.

“I caught myself wondering once if your hair was curly when it grows out,” you admit, clearing your throat a little from being flustered. Admitting that you’ve wondered and daydreamed about him is a big step to your mind.

“Yeah?” A slow, pleased grin starts to stretch across his face as he turns back towards you again. “Daydreaming about running your fingers through my hair?”

“Maybe.” The huff in your voice is pure embarrassment, though you’re glad that he seems to like the idea rather than being weirded out by it.

“Then I have to confess something…” he drops his voice down to a whisper like it’s a secret. “I really love when the hairdresser runs her fingers through my hair when cutting it.”

It feels like a far more visceral tease than you’ve been giving him, and you can practically feel how soft his shirt hair is when your eyes flick up to it. “Noted,” you manage to huff out a second later, banishing the mental image of Zach beneath you as you card your fingers through growing curls.

He smirks and winks at you when you manage to look at him again, finding it incredibly empowering to know that you are on the same level as he is. Both of you wanting so much, but being too shy to reach for it. Someone will have to make a move, but right now, he’s enjoying the flirting and bantering.

Neither of you seem to care much that it takes longer to make bites out of your appetizer if you hold hands, enjoying the small show of intimacy more than anything else. You're loathe to give up that connection now that you have it.

Zach enjoys sharing with you. Often making bites for you to try, and he smiles every time you groan in pleasure.

“Just because I have no idea how to cook anything doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy it,” you insist, and you’re laughing together when your waitress brings out your shared entree. The large and shallow bowl is obviously meant to be shared but is beautifully arranged — vegetables bringing color with the creamy risotto-like grains and tantalizingly seared and roasted lamb.

“Many blessings.” She is smiling at both of you as she puts the food down between you. “Happy marriage to young love.”

“Thank you.” Zach doesn’t correct her, beaming instead and bringing up your hand and kissing the back of it. If they believe that you are newlyweds, who are you to disclaim it?

Seeing him go with the assumption instead of correcting the woman makes your heart swell. There is something deeply soft and intimate about the gesture and you’re sure you must look so deeply entranced by your date that protesting wouldn’t do any good anyway.

“Soulmates?” The older woman asks, looking at the two of you with the pride of a grandmother.

Zach bites his lip, unsure of how to answer that, so he just wings it. “What do you think?” He asks, reaching out and caressing your cheek. “She’s perfect, isn’t she?”

"Very." The woman agrees, and with another proud smile she clasps both of your shoulders and heads off again to the kitchen with the purpose and speed of someone off to share vital gossip.

Zach smiles at you. “Well, I guess that makes us official.” He hums. “What do you think?” He asks, lifting a brow. “Want to be my girlfriend? Or should we jump straight to soulmate and wife?” He asks. “We’ve already gotten approval here.”

"It might be a little dramatic to show back up to the ship married." And yet you're grinning. You're absolutely beaming at him in a way that can't possibly be contained and for the first time today you don't want it to be. "But I love the sound of girlfriend."

“I’m sure we wouldn’t have been the first couple to have done that.” He doesn’t take offense to you ignoring the remark about soulmates. He’s seen you without sleeves enough to know that you don’t have his tattoo. You can’t be his soulmate, but he is drawn to you like he’s never been to another woman. “But girlfriend sounds perfect to me too.”

"I'm not one of those people that swears soulmates are the only possible relationship," you explain, as the two of you rearrange your little table to share your entree comfortably. The waitress had also brought you fresh drinks so the little table is loaded down with tantalizing options. "My parents aren't soulmates and they've been happily married for almost forty years. It's a great thing, but I always thought choosing your person yourself was more important than anything else."

“Interesting.” Zach is impressed and he nods. “I know that soulmates aren’t everything, but my parents were.” He tells you, smiling a little sadly. “They were probably the best relationship I’ve ever seen.”

"We both had good role models for healthy relationships. That's far more rare than it should be, I think." You note the past tense in his words but don't push, instead watching as he carefully serves the meal onto the two smaller plates you were given.

The lamb smells amazing and Zach is already drooling, imagining what he could make. “Are you ready to give me ideas?” He teases as he looks up from finishing plating.

"Dinner ideas?" You raise an eyebrow at him and pick up your fork, feeling bold with the help of the waitress who broke the ice and managed to make you Zach's girlfriend with a touch of cute teasing. "Or dirty ideas?"

“I accept all ideas.” Zach promises, his voice dipping down slightly, turning sensual.

"Fuck." Even just a quiet groan of frustration from you is enough to let him know exactly where you're at. Every single time he kisses you, you're convinced that you're going to soak through your shorts, and you no longer care if he knows it or not.

“I’ve been thinking about something.” Zach starts, forking up a bite of the risotto and trying it with a groan of approval.

"Tell me." There have been a few more serious topics touched on today without delving too deep, but you have faith that whatever it is that's on his mind won't be bad.

“We don’t have to be back on the ship until tomorrow morning.” The club is closed for the night while in port since the majority of the passengers are on shore. “What do you think about not going back tonight?”

"Like...find a little hotel?" Your fork is halfway to your mouth when you meet his eyes, seeing that there is the same spark of desire there as in your own. "That would certainly be more comfortable than using one of our bunks after we kick our roommate out," you agree, letting a grin crawl across your face.

“We don’t have to.” He stresses, not wanting you to feel like he expects to spend the night with you.

"I know." But you shrug with just a touch of guilt. "And if you want to wait that's totally fine. But...I definitely want to."

“I want to.” He is quick to reassure you of that. “I really want to. I just—” he bandied about for the right words. “Didn’t want to come off as pushy.”

"Pushy is normally my problem." you promise him. "The other part of Shane's whole 'be less you' advice was not rolling up to our first date and telling you we would make beautiful children." It's still of a hell of a way to come on strong so you laugh it off, but it's true all the same. "You've been anything but pushy, baby."

“You would have beautiful babies with Shrek.” He snorts, shaking his head. “My genes would have nothing to do with it.”

"Don't count yourself out." The grin on your face slides sideways and the two of you dig into your dinner in earnest. "Those curls of yours on a little baby? Cuties."

He blushes slightly, imagining how a baby with you would look. It’s a fantasy that he never even imagined being able to consider just a few years ago. “Only because of you. And most babies are cuties anyway.”

“They are.” That’s just a fact as far as you’re concerned. The two of you continue to eat for another minute or so before your mind catches up with all the possible consequences of that topic coming up and you almost stutter as you reach for your wine glass. “I’m—I’m on birth control, though,” you point out. Like he might think you’re trying to baby trap him on the first date just because you think babies are cute. “That’s…like I want kids eventually but I’m not crazy about it.”

This is happening. Zach swallows a bite of the deliciously fragrant and juicy lamb so he doesn’t choke. “Good. I mean, I would still want to wear a- birth control shouldn’t just be on you.” He tells you. “I’m clean, but I- it’s always good to- you know, uh, be safe.”

“I’m clean too, and if you feel more comfortable with a condom that’s totally fine, I just—” Who knows if more wine is actually a good idea at this point but you take about gulp out of nerves. “I didn’t want you to think I had any motivation for…you know…tonight, other than really liking you.”

He has to laugh at that, reaching for your hand and winking at you. “You’re focusing on your career. I don’t think that your grand plan is to be knocked up by the chef of the club you headline your first contract out.” He promises.

“Well when you say it like that it sounds silly.” And yet? A part of you is certain, beyond any doubt whatsoever, that if it happened you could be such a happy little family.

He smirks slightly and reaches over to brush off a tiny bit of sauce on the edge of your mouth. “So we both know where we stand.” He hums. “Let’s just relax and enjoy where our night takes us.”

******

With the sun set and your meal finished, an intimacy has settled over you and Zach as you sip your coffee together and listen to the busy streets of Knossos bustle with tourists and nightlife. Normally you would be part of that. You would be out with friends or searching out a feeling to get lost in — but today has been so thorough in proving that you can simply get lost in Zach that you don’t want to stray. Everything you could possibly want for your night is right here next to you. And it’s a type of calming feeling that you don’t know you’ve ever felt with another person before.

“That was probably the best meal I’ve ever eaten.” Zach rubs his stomach appreciatively and looks over at you. “Lamb on the menu for the club?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” You’ll eat anything he cooks anyway. But having it be a special memory between the two of you? That’s worth bragging about. “With those whipped carrots you made yesterday? Oh my god.”

“You liked those?” He grins, loving feedback as much as the next person and if it comes from you it makes it even sweeter. “I’ve been thinking about making it a soufflé and putting a topping on it. Similar to a sweet potato soufflé? What do you think? Too much?”

“I don’t know,” you admit with a grin spreading across your face. “I’ve never had a soufflé before.”

“You’ve never had a sweet potato casserole?” His eyes widen. “You’re shitting me?”

You shrug weakly, yet can’t help but laugh at how strong his reaction is. “My dad hates sweet potatoes,” you explain between giggles. “We basically ate like toddlers in my house forever, because he only liked four or five foods.”

“Wow.” He chuckles. “So I know what I’m making you tomorrow.” He grins. “Roasted chicken with sweet potato soufflé, creamed spinach and a fresh cranberry compote.”

“We just ate.” Sure, your tone is complaining, but the teasing is clear and sparkling in your eyes. “Why do you have to make me hungry all over again?”

Laughing, he leans over slightly to pull his wallet out to pay. Having cash is something of a safety net to him, although he’s proud of the shiny credit card with a low limit as he builds his credit back up. Offers have started coming for pre-approval of credit limits, but he’s resisted getting one so far. He pays this card off every month like clockwork. “I’ll let you sleep it off first.” He promises.

A different woman comes out with your check and a small folded bag. She smiles when she sees Zach ready to pay, and hands you the bag. “Congratulations,” she explains in a thick but clear accent. “From my grandparents. They’re very flattered you chose their restaurant for your honeymoon.”

Zach immediately feels guilty. “No— nothing is necessary.” He promises, shaking his head. “We are happy to be here. The food was amazing.”

"It's just a few cookies," she promises, apparently charmed by the display of manners. "And we're always glad to have kind guests."

“Everyone here has been wonderful.” Zach smiles as he hands over his card. “Now we just need to find a hotel with people as wonderful.”

"You don't have a place to stay already?" The bill is easily and silently settled with the exchange of a few bills between them and the woman points down the beach to a three-story white building on the edge of the beach. "Dite is a beautiful hotel. Small. But very nice. And you will see the perfect sunrise in your room."

“What do you think, sweetheart?” He asks, turning towards you. “I think it sounds just about perfect, if they have a room available.”

“Small sounds perfect.” In fact, after the bustle of the ship, it sounds like a small relief. “Thank you for the suggestion.”

“I will call for you.” She offers. “Family.”

“That would be wonderful.” You look to Zach for confirmation. “The hotel is my treat. I promise.”

He huffs, frowning slightly at the notion of you paying and there is a grin on the woman’s face as she nods in approval. “I will go call right now and let them know you are coming.” She beams before scampering off.

“It’s okay.” Sensing a bit of hurt pride that you dismiss as typically male, you lean over and kiss Zach’s cheek. “You can buy our breakfast.”

He can’t tell you that it’s because he somehow still looks at someone paying for something – even if it benefits them – as a handout. That is way too deep for this date and probably means he needs to schedule a visit with the VA therapist next time he’s in New York. “Sounds good, sweetheart.” He hums.

It only takes a few minutes for the younger waitress to return, and when she does she is smiling broadly. To Zach she hands a slip with the name and address of the hotel. “They’re getting your room ready now,” she tells you both gladly.

“Thank you.” He smiles. “For everything.”

“Our pleasure.” She assures him, and trots off again after saying good night.

He turns towards you and gives you a searching look. “Are you ready?”

"Absolutely." Considering you can see the hotel from here, you don't mind walking. A stroll through the streets of the ancient city, hand in hand with your newly minted boyfriend? It sounds perfect to you.

Zach scoots out of the seat and holds out his hand to you. “Then let’s walk off this amazing dinner.”

The roads and the beach stretch on longer than you anticipate but the walk is welcome. You're most quiet, enjoying each other's company without the need to fill the air with idle conversation. You take in the city around you and the overwhelming number of tourists. The hustle and the bustle is beautiful, but something about the fact that you can be comfortable in the quiet with Zach brings and unexpected extra layer of intimacy to the night.

Walking hand in hand is intimate, serene. He doesn’t feel the need to make excuses or fill the silence, he just enjoys the way the smiles seem to be just for you as a couple, coming from others who pass you on the streets.

The hotel is clean and bright, and the extended family of the folks who owned the restaurant are as sweet as can be when you check in. They’ve put you in a top floor room facing the ocean and promise you it’s their best, and you and Zach take the stairs up after thanking them once more.

“I feel bad.” Zach muses. “They think we are on our honeymoon.”

“First dates can be just as special as honeymoons, right?” You offer as you make your way down the hall to your room. “I checked their rates online and it was the same as what we paid. So they’re not giving us big discounts or anything. If they had, I would have said something.”

“Good.” He feels better about that and his stomach twists in nervous anticipation. You both had stopped in a little shop where he had purchased a small box of condoms. They feel heavy in his pocket.

“Hey.” The leaden heaviness sits between you as you unlock the door to your room and push it open. Before you even make a move to step inside, you settle your hand on Zach’s arm and offer him a soft, reassuring smile. “Just because we want to doesn’t mean we have to tonight, okay? We can decide to just hang out and cuddle and sleep beside each other and it will still be perfect.”

“Are you having second thoughts?” He asks seriously, trying not to look disappointed, because he doesn’t want that to pressure you.

“Not at all.” You’re quick to assure him of that, pushing open the door and stepping inside. “You just seem…nervous? I don’t know, maybe I’m wrong.”

“Afraid of disappointing you.” He admits with a small huff of amusement at himself as he flashes you a grin. “It’s been a while for me.”

"Then I'm flattered you would choose me to be the one to break that dry spell with." It really is a vote of confidence from him, and you won't take that for granted. Despite the fact that you don't understand how in the hell anyone has ever let him go, you're glad to be the person that is here and ready to see all of the potential he has as a partner.

“I would be fucking crazy not to.” Zach snorts, shaking his head. “Baby you are gorgeous and kind, and everything I don’t deserve.”

"Hey now." You shake your head as you shut the door behind the two of you, flipping the lock and feeling the shiver of anticipation roll through you. But still, hearing him put himself down is the last thing you're comfortable with and when you turn back to Zach you slide your hands up his arms gently. "I wouldn't let somebody else talk about you like that, what makes you think you get to?"

“Habit.” He admits, biting his lip and reaching for your waist to draw you closer. “I’m working on it.”

"I'm here to remind you how incredible you are anytime you need." A strong support system means everything, you learned that the hard way. And you're more than happy to be that for Zach.

“Thanks.” There’s a bit gratefulness and quite a bit of amazement in his eyes as he looks at you. “You are absolutely amazing, you know that?” He asks. “You take my breath away.”

Your hands creep up his arms, sliding around his neck so your fingers can sink into his short, soft hair. "I'd be happy to do that for you literally, if you'd like."

“How would you do that?” He has a pretty good idea, but he wants to hear what you have in mind.

The hum that leaves your lips as you press your body against his is full of promise. "I'd start at the top and work my way down, of course," you tell him, bringing Zach down to meet your lips for a searing kiss.

He can’t help but groan, a grown man melting against you, but he’s already weak in the knees from the passion in just this one kiss. The sense of complete rightness that washes over him as his own arms band around you tighter and he starts to give back to you.

None of the kisses you had shared yet today had been allowed to be this deep. You were in public. You were sharing space with other people. And this is so intensely intimate. It would have felt wrong just to let other people see your naked heart out there on your sleeve. But when it is just the two of you locked safely away in the privacy of a hotel room? You would be a puddle at his feet if it weren’t for the uncanny strength of him holding you tight against his chest.

It’s not hard for his body to respond instantly. He’s already lived most of the day in a state of arousal just being around you. But with the length of your body pressed against his and your tongue coaxing his further into your mouth? He is rock hard and aching. Groaning slightly as he turns both of you towards where the bed should be based on the split second examination of the room earlier.

And just like that you feel ignited. The press of his body against yours as he steers you blindly through around the room is an errant spark that seems to catch on every inch of you. With one hand your fingers card and tug in his hair, nails grazing over his scalp. With the other you pull his shoulders to keep him impossibly close — feeling like you’ll forget to breathe if you stop sharing gasps with him between kisses.

You taste like sweet wine and cream. A perfect combination when mixed with something that is just…you. He can’t describe it, but it’s warm and earthy.

The backs of your legs bump against the bed frame, almost toppling you over and making you hang onto Zach all the more tightly, giggling into the kiss. “Oops,” You can’t help but laugh at how deeply uncoordinated it was, even as out of breath as you are. “Weak knees aren’t very stable, apparently.”

“Then we should lay down.” Zach suggests, grinning against your lips and starting to crouch down.

It doesn’t exactly take convincing. Not when every single time he’s kissed you today has turned you a soaking wet, needy mess. The fact that you finally get to do something about it is exhilarating and relieving all at once. “Hell yes,” you agree, nearly hauling him into the bed with you when you try to kiss him and move at the same time.

He laughs when you both nearly topple over, flopping down on your sides in a move that is not nearly as graceful as he had planned in his mind. “Eager?” He asks. Sliding his hand down your side to your ass.

“Oh, absolutely.” You smirk, but shift your leg ever so slightly so your thigh presses against the front of his shorts. “Just as much as you are.”

“Baby, have you looked in the mirror?” Zach groans, twitching under the pressure. “You’re a complete knockout and fucking sweet as pie.”

“As long as you like what you see, the mirror doesn’t matter.” What you see and what he sees looking at you will never be quite the same, so as long as he likes the version of you that he sees, you’re fine with it.

Zach doesn’t say anything else, he just slowly leans in and presses his lips to yours softly.

It’s such a sweet, gentle gesture that you melt deeper into the mattress. For that one moment there are no thoughts at all left in your head. It’s just Zach and the possibilities.

He follows you, body half covering yours as he lets the kiss deepen slightly. Not too much, but he squeezes your ass gently as he grinds into you.

The roll of his hips earns him a moan, and he swallows it up eagerly so you give him another and hitch one leg up to let him get closer.

He presses deeper into you, slotting his hips between yours as you open up and he gasps into your mouth when his hard cock presses against the heat of your core.

The heat in your belly flares hotter, wicking all the way Down your limbs, and you whimper again because you have no prayer of a coherent sentence or even word in that moment. There’s horny and eager then there’s whatever the hell you are as you grind your hips against his to beg for more.

It’s juvenile, but grinding against you over clothes while he kisses you is the height of eroticism right now. He groans into your mouth before breaking away, wanting to taste every inch of your skin.

He trails kisses along your jaw and throat, making your back arch and stealing your breath all over again. While he begins to travel south you tug at his shirt, trying to tear the damn thing off while your whole body aches for him.

Zach smiles against your skin, cutting his eyes up at you playfully. “You’re too impatient” he teases, pulling away. “Think I’ll blindfold you.”

You pout instantly, but the idea is intriguing enough that you raise an eyebrow at him. “Do I get to see you eventually?”

“Eventually.” He smirks, loving that you are going along with his little idea. “That way you can accurately judge how good I am.”

“I can’t judge your skills with my eyes open?” Delighted to have found him not so very vanilla after all, you let the hand you still have in his hair tug in his curls and grin when he moans.

“You might be overwhelmed by my good looks.” He chuckles and shakes his head. One of the things that made him suggest this is his tattoo. He didn’t want to have a ton of questions about it right now. This wasn’t the time for remembering the past, but enjoying the present.

“Is this a ‘hands off’ situation, too? Or can I at least still touch you?” There are plenty of things you’re willing to try out that you already know you enjoy that people might consider out of the ordinary, but the first time with a new partner you want to feel them in every way.

“You can touch me.” He promises. “I’m just feeling a little shy right now.” He jokes playfully, winking at you. “Don’t want you to get too scared.”

“You have nothing you need to be shy about, but I fully respect having a few hang ups. I’ve got plenty, too.” Reluctantly as you are to take your hands off of him, you reach for your belt instead — or rather, the long sash of fabric that you tied through your belt loops today because you thought it looked a little cuter than a standard belt. “Use this.”

“Are you sure?” He takes the fabric from your hands and holds it up to his eyes playfully.

“I trust you.” You trust him somehow inherently. As though it were as simple as trusting yourself. In a way that sticks in your chest and warms through you like hot cocoa in winter.

He watches you for a moment after pulling the scarf down from his face, “Okay.” He agrees. “I just want this to be something we never forget.”

“I can already guarantee I will never forget any part of today,” you promise him, shivering slightly with anticipation as he settles your former belt gently over your eyes.

He ties it firmly, but not too tight. If you need it off, all you need to do is slip it up your forehead or pull it down. The point of this is to be fun, to explore without judgement and he can’t do that if you are uncomfortable. “Hopefully that’s a good thing and it doesn’t go into your ‘worst dates’ catalog.” He jokes before he slides his hands down to the edge of your shirt to push it up your stomach and drop a kiss right above your belly button.

With every small touch now heightened, your skin tingles with the scrap of his calloused fingers and press of the feather-light kiss. “I don’t fuck on the first date unless it’s a really fucking good date.”

“Me either.” Zach smirks against your skin before he decides to nip your side slightly, laughing quietly when you jump and gasp at the grazing of his teeth. Instead of working down, he decides to work up and nuzzles just under the band of your bra.

One hand blindly makes its way to his shoulder again, grasping the thick cords of muscle there and reminding you just how powerful this broad man is that is being so tender and playful with you. At this point it’s Zach’s game — to explore and to pleasure and to discover — and every point of contact between you is a spark catching fire.

It takes just a second to discover that your bra hooks in the front, to Zach's utter delight, making it easy to unbind your breasts and capture a nipple in his mouth before your shirt is even off or your straps slid down your arms.

The heat and pressure of Zach’s mouth feels boiling even on this warm night, sending you gasping and cursing as you grip his shoulder tighter. If you get any wetter your shorts might outright dissolve, but he would probably consider that a bragging right.

Zach groans against your nipple, loving the little arch to your back, pushing your breast to his mouth more. Offering yourself up.

There is no steady rhythm to any of it as Zach works to take you apart piece by piece. He has a method in his madness, surely, but you are breathless and moaning as he reduces you to a human puddle on the bedsheets. While you can’t see him like this you can definitely feel him, and your hands tug at his shirt again to get that luscious skin-on-skin sensation as he starts to travel down your body.

He takes his time, learning the sensitive spots on your body and enjoying every soft sound he pulls out of your mouth. Until he is dragging your shorts down your legs.

It’s about fucking time says the impatient voice in your head as you squirm in the bed and lift your hips to help him move things along. He’s consented to take his shirt off, at least, so that warmth that rolls off of him in waves can seep directly into your bones. You whimper as the cool breeze of exposure hits your overheated cunt, dripping with need and aching for attention.

“Fuck, you look so pretty right now.” Zach groans at the sight of your wet lips, hair trimmed and manicured. You either were hoping that the night would end this way, or you were very meticulous about your grooming. He’s kind of hoping for the former even though he wouldn’t care if you had done anything. “Baby, you look good enough to eat.”

“Tease.” You whine, trying to sound huffy but only succeeding in strangling another moan when his breath ghosts over your swollen pussy. Even with his hands caressing your thighs, you’re squirming.

It’s been a long goddamn time since Zach has had a pussy in his face, but he loves the musky scent of your wet sex. Making him twitch and groan as he slowly spreads your lips wide for him to drag his tongue up your folds for that first, tantalizing lick.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” With your back arching and your fingers tight in his hair, it’s so easy to lose yourself to one little taste.

He makes a sound of pleasure as he flicks his tongue over your clit and comes back for another pass. This time starting lower and letting his tongue tease your entrance before sliding higher.

If you weren’t blindfolded already you might have cum just from the sight of him. His lips and tongue explore while his hands keep you steady, holding you in place so the buck of your hips doesn’t unseat him before he can really get going.

He absorbs your sound, your taste. The very essence of your being, feasted on as he slowly and thoroughly licks through you like a meal he is savoring.

It’s a stunning combination of thorough exploration and eager enthusiasm that has you writing and moaning his name so quickly. You could have had a date yesterday and everything about tonight would already be better. Zach seems somehow to know exactly what you like without asking, reading your signals perfectly air pushing you higher and higher until his name is the only word on your lips.

Zach is completely entranced by the way you respond to his touch, never having a lover he feels so in-sync with. It’s like he’s touched you a million times before rather than just these last few minutes.

The whole world has stopped existing around you. It's just you and Zach and this bed and every new height of pleasure that he keeps building you to. The press of his hands on your hips, the deep push of his tongue, the sharp half-scrape of his teeth near your clit that he's discovered makes you gasp and moan.

“Cum for me baby.” He pulls away to gasp his plea, the need to see you fall apart about to rupture in his veins and make him go mad. His grip tightening on your hips and he dives back into your cunt with the desperation of a man starved that’s reached his oasis.

You don't have to tell me twice, you would say if you could swim through the thick mire of bliss to tease him. Instead, and much more true to the moment, you let out a sobbing moan and beg for just a little bit more to send you over the edge.

He hears the unspoken plea in your whimpers and opens his mouth wider to just devour you. Burying himself into your pussy where his nose is blocked by your mound as he pushes you over the edge and if he died in this moment, he would die blissfully happy.

Your back arches fiercely one more time, lifting your shoulders off the bed as you hit that sharp crest that explodes into your climax. All of your muscles tense and curses spill freely, interspersed with his name and moans entirely without words – until that crest becomes altogether too much, the thread mercifully snaps, and you fall back on the mattress an utterly satisfied puddle.

Zach is slow to pull his mouth away. Savoring the little tremors that race through your thighs and makes your pussy clench against his chin as he laps at your juices one last time before he lifts his head with a groan of satisfaction. “And just think, we’ve only started.” He hums playfully, knowing that the night has just begun.

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

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#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Zach Wellison #Zach Wellison x female reader #Zach Wellison x you #Zach Wellison x f!reader #Brothers & Sisters #Shane Dio Morrissey #Shane Dio Morrissey x female OC #NYPD Blue #soulmate au #Soulmate Sunday #cruise ship au #first date

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