Sex with Alastor was... overwhelming, to say the least. It was like every time he tried to outdo himself, making sure that after he was done, you were nothing but a trembling mess.
So, there you were each time, lying on the bed, looking at the ceiling, trying so hard to catch your breath, the waves of pleasure slowly leaving your body.
At first, sex with Alastor seemed like it was just a chore—he had to fuck you and then get back to business. And, much to your dismay, aftercare was no better. It was minimal to nonexistent sometimes.
He would look at you with that usual smile as he placed a clean towel next to you and made his way to the door. At first, you tried to understand: that he was not used to showing his true feelings. You tried to get used to it, but each time, you couldn't shake the horrible feeling that would settle over you—embarrassment. Those horrible nights you spent alone made you feel small and insignificant. They made you feel like you were nothing to him but a piece of meat he could use.
One night in particular, after he finished, you watched him get dressed, humming as he was putting his vest on.
"You don't stay here tonight?" you asked as the eerie, familiar feeling of loneliness slowly engulfed you.
"Sorry, dear. I have responsibilities at the hotel," he said, his tone still smooth but lacking its usual warmth. The words seemed to carry an edge, a hint of the burden he bore.
"But... what is there to take care of? Everyone's sleeping. I don't think it'd hurt if you stayed here for a bit..." Alastor stopped in his tracks and looked at you with a hint of annoyance in his eyes.
"Darling, the hotel is a business venture. And businesses require my attention all the time," he explained, a slight hint of irritation in his voice. He finished buttoning his shirt, running his hands through his hair to fix it. He took a deep breath, his smile never leaving his face. "You've been quite clingy lately."
"Maybe if you didn't treat me like a piece of meat, I wouldn't feel this way!" you retorted, your voice sharper than intended. The frustration in your tone made it clear how deeply hurt you were. Alastor's smile faltered momentarily at your harsh words. He turned to face you, his demeanour shifting from casual to deliberate. His steps toward the bed were measured, the weight of your accusation palpable in the air.
"If you're dissatisfied with my busy schedule, perhaps you should seek someone who is more... attentive," he suggested, his voice taking on a frigid tone. The coldness in his words betrayed an effort to mask his own discomfort. You could feel tears in your eyes as you got up and quickly got dressed. You hoped he would stop you, but he didn't. Alastor watched silently as you left the room, his expression unreadable.
A wave of guilt washed over him, but he pushed it away quickly, refusing to acknowledge it. He was the Radio Demon; he shouldn't care about some girl whining about his behaviour. But still, a small part of him couldn't ignore the hurt look in your eyes as you walked away.
Alastor expected you to come knocking on his door again the next night, as usual. But to his surprise, days turned into weeks, and you didn't return. He tried to push away the twinge of worry he felt, telling himself that you were probably just sulking. He convinced himself that you would come running back to him eventually.
But deep inside, a small voice nagged at him, telling him that he had pushed you away too far this time. So, in a matter of seconds, you found yourself on his bed, a gasp escaping your mouth as the portal closed behind you. Before you had a chance to react, he was already looming over you, a frown on his face.
"And where do you think you've been, darling?" he asked, his voice low and stern.
"I thought you had more important things to do!" you said through your teeth. Alastor's expression darkened slightly at your tone. His eyes narrowed as he leaned closer to you, his face just inches away from yours.
