Chapter Text
A month passes- then two, then three, and then it's been nearly a year since the incident. Nearly five since they’ve met. Vera is well on her way to becoming a goddess in entertainment, and she still has no fucking clue what she’s supposed to do with Alastor.
“You’re thinking too loud, dear,” he says, making an halfhearted attempt to sit up on the bed. “It’s awfully annoying.”
“You’ll live.” she doesn’t look up from the book she’s been trudging through; some esoteric literary bullshit written by some tragic intellectual whose name she can’t pronounce. Vera pulled it off the shelf partly to look smart, and partly because it’s the closest thing she has for entertainment in Alastor’s flat.
The man doesn’t have a television- of fucking course he doesn’t- and playing the radio would just give him ideas about returning to work. He’s had a stick up his ass ever since they returned from his surgery overseas, and making sure he didn’t hurt himself in recovery was already difficult enough.
“Will I?” Alastor whines. “If the lack of sunlight doesn’t get to me, starvation certainly will.”
“I made you lunch an hour ago.”
“Yes, and I’m still attempting to keep it down.” he says, waving her over. “Unless you’d like to keep pretending you can understand that?”
Vera ought to be ashamed at how quickly she sets the book aside and finds space for herself on Alastor’s rickety twin bed. She most likely will, when night falls and she’s kicking herself for all the opportunities to do something she wasted.
For now, she’s too preoccupied with the way Alastor’s eyes zero in on her to think about much of anything. It’s almost unfair, to have him so close to her in just surgical dressings and loose pants; it makes her feel like a horny schoolboy again.
“You had a job the other day,” he begins.
“Some investor that wouldn’t take the hint,” Vera finishes. “He’s always boozed out of his mind at work, wasn’t hard to slip something into his drink after hours.”
That catches Alastor’s attention, sitting upright. “Poison?”
“Just some drain cleaner. Why?”
“It’s rather unlike you, that’s all.”
“You’re the one always saying I’m too obvious,” she scoffs.
“That’s no excuse to be boring,” he says. “Where’s the skill? The panache?”
Said the man that could never be bothered to do anything more creative than a stabbing. “How would you do it, then?”
“Depends.” Alastor racks his brain. “Is he tall?”
“Not any more than me-” and Vera is unable to finish that sentence because Alastor starts climbing her like a fucking tree, settling between her legs and dangerously close to her face.
“Good, good. In that case, I’d aim for the neck,” a finger runs from her nape to collarbone as he speaks, tone light. His other hand steadies itself on her shoulder, and she has to wonder if he had gotten his hands on painkillers when she wasn’t looking.
“And if he wasn’t?” she asks, staving off the tightness in her throat.
“The heart, then.” Alastor’s hand goes lower- not low enough- and taps at her sternum. “Right about here.”
“But that’s just a suggestion,” he declares, suddenly pulling away. “Would you like me to write all that down?”
“Can I fuck you?” It comes out so quickly that Vera almost thinks someone else had entered the room.
Alastor doesn’t flinch at the words, only cocking his head at her. Somehow, that’s worse. “You’re a businesswoman, Ms. Whittman. Surely you have a stronger sales pitch than that.”
“You’re bored, and we don’t have anything else to do, and it’s not like anyone will ever find out,” She rambles, unsure if he's actually being serious but sure as fuck not risking anything. “And- and I’m the only broad that’ll ever have a half a clue what she’s doing with you, so I’m really doing you a favor.”
“Is that so?” Alastor raises an eyebrow. “Then I guess I’d be a fool to refuse.”
“Is- is that a yes?”
“Do something before I change my mind, Vera.”
So she does, pinning him down hard enough to damage his dressings. Whatever. Alastor is a rough kisser, something she chalks up to either inexperience or being able to read her far too well. Either way, she’s not complaining.
Alastor bites down on her lip, lapping up the blood that spills out and muttering something in French under ragged breaths. She’d let him devour her whole; they both know that and they’ve always known.
And in regards to devouring-
She can feel Alastor’s eyes roll beneath her as she does away with his pants and pulls down his underwear with her teeth. Thick, wiry curls do little to hide his reddened cock peeking out from the hood; his cunt is already soaked, the man shivering slightly at being exposed bare, and Vera has to all but will herself to not salivate.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” She mutters breathlessly. “God was in a good mood when he made you.”
And as much as she wants to savor it, Alastor makes it clear he’s just as impatient as her. “I thought you were an atheist.”
“There are exceptions,” Vera says before swallowing down on his cock. It’s nothing like the giant pricks she’s had to choke on for promotions, and it’s so much fucking better- those assholes don’t deserve to be thought about in the same sequence as him, for that matter.
Alastor nearly laughs as he groans, the same sort of heady, manic sound he gives after a kill. Vera adds in two fingers with little warning and he keens into it, fist tangling into her hair. When they’re done, when she’s not whining helplessly around him, she’ll complain about the mess he’s made.
"You like that, don't you, pup?” Alastor purrs, and her cock jumps at that- fuck, she shouldn’t be this hard when he hasn’t even touched her. “Such a filthy dog.”
Yes, yes, she is- whatever he says, whatever makes him happy. She adds more pressure to his dick just to watch him try to still himself and thrusts her fingers even deeper into his cunt, yet he refuses to raise his voice. Next time- there has to be a next time- Vera’s making him fucking scream.
She gets the next best thing when he chokes down her name as he climaxes. Everything goes white, and she’s not long after.
She’s not sure how much time passes from then. Just that her mind is pleasantly numb as she watches Alastor pull himself together, like she’s planning to build a shrine to him. She might. She will.
He hands her a towel as he looks her over. “I see you’ve already taken care of yourself. What a shame; I was hoping to repay the favor.”
“I mean- you can always- we’ve got time,” she sputters, very quickly landing back into the present.
“I’d rather take a bath,” he says. “Would you like to join?”
Words aren’t necessary for her answer, and Alastor doesn’t need to look back to know Vera’s already trailing behind him like a lost pet.
Then she remembers something. “Fuck, I’ll have to change your dressings now.”
“Don’t ruin this, dear.”