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Alastor stepped out of the pitch-black woods into a clearing. The sky seemed dark as night beyond the treetops, but a warm blanket of sunshine broke through the haze above him, illuminating a distantly-familiar cabin.
He knew this was only a dream, but so many thousands of things felt real here. The cabin itself seemed to breathe and sigh in the humid air of the river valley. While he could count the number of dreams here on only one hand, he had enough experience to know who he would meet, and how it would end.
The first dream he came upon this cabin, he stood in the doorway as a young man oiled a shiny new hunter’s rifle in the hall. The frightened innocence on the lad’s face pulled a string in Alastor’s unbeating heart. He felt the need to warn the lad that, should he leave the cabin with that gun tonight, he would never return the same again. The young man had laughed nervously in response, but flashed Alastor a confident smile on the way out. Alastor then took a seat on a lovely cushioned reading chair by the fireplace and waited. When the young man returned covered in blood, Alastor gave his best sympathetic smile. The human, with such a terrible expression, dragged his rifle to Alastor’s head and shot him between the eyes.
The next time he found himself here, he did not confront the man in the cabin, but stalked him into the forest out of morbid curiosity. There must have been some sort of poetic irony at play when Alastor was mistook for a dear and shot dead (again) by the young hunter.
The third time, he did not go towards the cabin at all, but turned and ran for miles away. He moved swiftly and quietly through the forest for many hours as a terrible anxiety built up in his mind like static. Alastor held onto the hope that he would stumble into a vision of New Orleans or perhaps run far enough into the Mississippi delta to escape the dream. When Alastor’s instinctive fear eventually forced him to his knees, the dogs came upon him.
Now, though, Alastor waited for the young man outside his door-- even though he hated being shot like an animal, at least it was quicker than being mauled to death. He was surprised when the young man stepped out of the woods behind him instead, with his less-than-new rifle strapped to his chest.
“Why hello there, stranger,” the young man smiled at him.
The soft twang reverbing under his words hit Alastor a little off guard, he had forgotten that his radio voice was not his only voice at one time.
“Whatcha' doing these parts?” the young man tilted his head to the side, still smiling.
Well, Alastor supposed now was as good as time as any.
“I'm here because you’re on a brimstone-paved road to hell, my good fellow!”
Alastor saw a flash of surprise turn to a gleam of amusement in those pretty blue eyes.
“Are ya' here to save my soul, sir?” The young man asked.
“If it means ending this madness, sure, why not!”
“I’m afraid there’s no need for that, mister.” The young man laughed half-bashfully.
“I’m glad to hear it!” Alastor beamed his off-white razortooth smile.
The young man laughed again, “I’m sorry,” he shook his head, “dja’ come all this way to sell me somethin’?” He walked a worn path towards Alastor and the cabin.
“I have absolutely no clue why I’m here!” Alastor’s face lit up with the possibilities as he announciated his words with a sweeping hand gesture.
“Well then,” the young man reached past Alastor to unlock the door to the cabin. “I hope you can stay for dinner.” The smile meeting Alastor’s was bright... and deadly.
A certain, ineffable sense of dread overcame Alastor while the young man swung open the door. He hoped his deer-like instincts were just playing a trick on him. When the young hunter turned back to him, those blue eyes burned into Alastor’s, leaving afterimages when he blinked.
“It’s a long way back to the city, mister.” The young man spoke softly.
Alastor clenched his smile. If he ran now, he wouldn’t get far before hearing the gunshot. Besides, he thought it might amuse him to learn where this invitation might lead.
“I would be remiss to decline such a generous offer,” he smiled darkly with a bow.
The young man clasped his hands on Alastor’s shoulders, sending a chill down Alastor's spine.
“Wonderful,” the young man grinned. He half guided, half pushed Alastor down a short, narrow hallway.
The hallway opened into a nicely-sized albeit cluttered room. A small kitchen was tucked into the far left corner in front of them. A couple chairs and a low coffee table surrounded a large stone fireplace at the center. Alastor noted a large dining-room table pushed to the furthest wall without any chairs underneath it. All of the furniture looked ornate, carved from strong wood with smooth, sweeping curves. There were various vegetables and cooking utensils strewn about the kitchen, which consisted mostly of a chest-like refrigerator, some counter space, and an old potbelly stove. Light filtered in from narrow windows near the ceiling. Hunter’s trophies hung on every wall, and Alastor felt somewhat self conscious that his own antlers would soon be joining them.
“Sorry about the mess, stranger, say, why don’t I take your coat for you? And your staff? I can put it on the umbrella stand if you’d like?”
He already knew his powers did not work in this young man’s territory, so Alastor let the boy take his coat off his shoulders while he studied the various drawers and chests in the room. The young man threw Alastor’s coat over a forearm and bounce his staff off the floor before turning to put them up. Alastor peered at the weakly smoldering fire, and threw another log on while he waited for his host to rejoin him. The young man reappeared after a while without his own coat or hunting rifle.
“Hey mister, I’ve hung your coat in the closet next to the restroom, second door down the hall--”
The young man must have caught Alastor shiver from the cold.
“My apologies, sir, I shouldn’ta left that for you to do.”
He struck some kindling into the growing flame and took it to the stove.
“Here, this will help warm the room faster,” he said, turning the oven on.
Alastor began taking off his gloves, “I must say, it’s been such a long time since I joined civilized company for dinner.” He placed them over the arm of a nearby chair and sat down.
The young man began chopping away at vegetables on the counter space.
“Say, stranger, you must not be from ‘round here.”
“Oh, I am, “ Alastor though he might tell the truth, “I’ve been away somewhere warm and exotic tending to my radio station, but I’ve been a bit preoccupied lately helping to run a hotel.” He wanted to impress to the boy for whatever reason.
The chopping noises stopped momentarily,
“You own your own station? The entire station? The only one?”
“I own the station, the radio tower, and the souls of half my show-runners” he gave chuckle.
“I actually do a bit of radio broadcasting myself.” the chopping resumed.
“Ah, and do you enjoy it?
“Yes, I love it, but, well,” a particularly loud chop sounded, “lately I’ve been needing something… more.” The man put down the knife and rummaged briefly though a sack. A starchy musk permeated the room.
“Everyone needs hobbies outside of work,” Alastor said thoughtfully. He listened to the scraping of a blade against wet potato flesh. “You seem to be an avid hunter,” he said.
“Yes, of course” The young man began to dice the few potatoes. The strikes of steel against hardwood resounded in Alastor’s bones. “I do love the chase,” the man smiled towards him.
Alastor ignored the cold drip of fear down his spine and watched the back of the young man as he collected his cuttings and threw them into a cast-iron pot.
The hunter took a flask of piping-hot water out of the stove, and poured it in with the vegetables. He brought the pot over towards Alastor and hooked the stew above the fire.
Alastor expected his host to sit in a chair across from him, but the man returned from the fireplace to stand between Alastors parted knees. They smiled at each other.
The young man rested his hands on the chair besides Alastor’s head, and then slid his arms off the end of the chair until he was leaning down close enough to practically kiss the demon “Seeing as you ah my guest, wouldn’t you mind helping me... “ He dragged his eyes unsubtly down Alaster’s body, “set the table?”
Alastor knew those lidded eyes and that coy smile, and he knew better... but he couldn’t look away. This young man was some distant part of his subconscious, resonating back and forth with him on the same frequency, driving their desires deeper than either had ever felt them before.
“You ought to know you’re threatening a very powerful demon.” Alastor grinned and lowered his voice, ”Are you sure you want to play this game?”
The man slid to the floor in front of Alastor, looking pleasingly nonthreatening between his legs.
“I’m not threatening you, I’m asking you politely…” The man drank in the look of Alastor’s deer-like ears and little antlers from below. “You ough'ta know I just adore the taste of venison.”
Alastor was grinning like a maniac, “Let no one ever accuse me of being a bad house guest.”
“Thank you, mister.” The young man rose and took a very special bottle of Bordeaux out of one of the many dressers and drawers cluttering the space. “Would you care for a glass of wine?”
“You know I know this is poison,” Alastor noted, before taking a glass from his host, anyway.
“Yessir, I’d just love if you’d relax yourself in my home is all,” the young man smiled warmly
Oh, he was enjoying this far too much.
“Dja’ mind?” the man asked as he took a seat besides Alastor on the chair intended for one, turning his head to watch Alastor’s uncomfortable grimace of a smile.
Far, far too much… Alastor decided.
Alastor moved his arm to the small of the young man’s back, and the other brought the poison to his lips. To anyone else they might look as lovers, but this was a war-- a war Alastor was destined to lose.
They sat quietly in the tension, the young man’s breathing had shallowed in anticipation.
Alastor found it amusing that humans displayed such careless emotion-- he would have laughed but he didn’t find the strength in his throat for much more than breathing.
The young man had attentively refilled Alastor’s glass twice by now. When the glass slipped out of Alastor’s grasp and shattered onto the wooden planks of the cabin floor, he slipped to the dining room and threw a clean linen sheet over the table. Alastor swayed to his feet, he watched the familiar scene play out before him like a memory, but the alcohol surrendered his inhibitions.
“It’s time to set the table now, dear, or else dinner will never be ready.”
Alastor walked with some difficulties to the dining room table. Even with the drugs taking hold of his body, he kept his smile wide and neat-- he had some inclination to prove to this human (and himself) he was in control.
Alastor climbed slowly onto the table, led down, and let the young man examine him.
“Raise your arm as high as you can.” The smile on the man’s face had a focused look of intensity.
Alastor raised his arm, but he couldn’t get it very high. Alastor felt the fast but steady beating of the young man’s heart in his own chest.
“You’re not quite ready yet,” The boy smiled. “Could you turn over for me?”
Alastor was hesitant, but used as much strength as he could to accomplish the request.
Alastor had to admit, it felt nice to let go of control just this once. The young man’s heart picked up in his chest, and Alastor distantly wondered what had made him so excited. When he felt a hand run over the soft white underside of his tail, alarm flashed up his spine flinched into his shoulders.
“Oh? This must be sensitive. Gosh, it’s so soft init.”
The teasing fingers running through his most sensitive fur forced Alastor’s breathing to deepen.
“Dja’ like this?”
“No,” he breathed.
“Good.” Alastor could hear the shit-eating grin, and suddenly wondered if he had made a grave miscalculation.
The young man continued his gentle assault until Alastor’s shoulders began to tremble slightly. The movement brought his attention to Alastor’s neck.
“Is your job very stressful, sir?” The young man brought his calloused hands up to the demon gentleman’s shoulders and began to massage the tight knots of muscle though his shirt.
Alastor couldn’t respond with much more than a few gasps as the boy worked his muscles loose. God, now he finally understood why his victims all but melted when he did this for them.
Alastor couldn’t decide if it was the drugs or the massage, but the hardwood table suddenly felt extraordinary comfortable under his relaxed limbs. He focused on maintaining his smile, which felt painfully clenched in comparison to the rest of his body.
When he’d finished, the young man retrieved a hunting knife from the living room, climbed onto the table, and straddled Alastor’s hips. He bent over his prey and sliced down the back of Alastor’s dress shirt with one clean motion. With the flawless, ashen skin exposed, the man sank over Alastor’s body to taste and nip the flesh where his neck met his shoulder. The love-bites felt absolutely divine to Alastor. When the man reached under Alastor’s waist to unbutton his trousers, Alastor instinctively raised his hips as much as he was able. Alastor flushed at how suggestively he pressed into the younger man on top of him. The hunter sank his teeth hard into the demon and relished holding the deer as he trembled flush to his body. He began to stroke Alastor’s flaccid heat through his loose trousers. Alastor’s head was swimming, with the soft touches and the sharp pain-- his instinctive fear fucked him over with the masochistic bliss of it all. He gave a pitiful moan of surrender. When did he turn from a sadist to a masochist? He blamed the disposition of being a prey animal trapped helplessly under an apex predator.
Alastor felt cold and disappointed when the young man suddenly hopped off the table. He brandished the hunting knife and expertly discarded the rest of Alastor’s clothes.
“You’re mighty tenderized now, dja' think?” he said when returning to stand near Alastor’s shoulders. He bent down to lick at drops of blood forming in deep bite marks before preparing his tools. Alastor couldn’t respond, simply listened to the sharpening of blades behind his head. He would have shivered if his muscles weren’t already trembling.
The young man tapped Alastor’s naked ass with the flat side of a knife, then sliced cleanly and diagonally through the visceral fat of his cheek into the gluteus maximus beneath, exiting where Alastor’s ass use to meet his upper thigh. Alastor did not feel the pain right away, the cold of the knife distracted his mind as his flesh was removed from his body. It took several long seconds of cloudy, building tension before his brain decided that yes, he was indeed in pain. He trembled violently when the torture racketed over his body and mind, but could not find enough purchase in his relaxed vocal chords to scream. The young man soothingly stoked Alastor’s soft tail-fur again as the flinches lessened. When he was certain the worst of it had subsided, he removed the cut of meat to a silver dish, and began slicing it thinly.
Alastor ignored the pain to focus on breathing as tears pooled into his mouth
The young man delighted to listen to Alastor’s struggled breaths while he finished preparing the meat. The ashened skin looked delectable against the deep purple hues of the demon’s flesh. Dark blood seeped out of the severed meat very slowly, almost seductively. He took a piece in his mouth and sucked, savoring the soft texture as he broke down the morsel. He thought it tasted something like venison, but much sweeter.
When Alastor’s breathing became worryingly harsher, the young man tossed the portion of meat into the stew and set down the platter. It would be easier for the demon to swallow laying face-up, afterall, so he turned Alastor’s torso as far as he could with some effort and lifted Alastor’s hips, controlling the deer’s fall onto his back as gently as possible before roughly pulling him back to the center of the table.
Bastard, Alastor’s mind hissed what he could not say. The open wound scraping against the coarse tablesheet stung like a bitch. Alastor didn’t feel bad staining it with his blood.
“Comfy, sir?” The young man purred. Alastor never felt so gleefully murderous.
The young man stood at Alastor's side and leaned over his naked prey. He couldn’t help but to bend down and kiss up the exposed skin from Alastor’s bellybutton to a soft nipple. As he sucked the sensitive flesh and contemplated biting it off, Alastor jutted a claw into the man’s side.
The young man half-jumped, half-fell over Alastor to get away from the painfully sharp nails digging into his side. He braced his hands on Alastor’s stomach and looked up to the demon’s face grinning madly with amusement. The young hunter couldn't let that little stunt go unpunished. With his own mad smile, he climbed up Alastor’s body, tucked a knee under Alastor’s cock, and dropped hard onto his elbows either side of Alastor’s head. He leaned in to kiss the demon’s smile, and reveled in the micro-shiver of disgust that flashed over that annoying grin. Satisfied his dinner had learned his lesson, he sat back onto Alastor’s hips and traced lines with his finger where he would love to cut through the flesh. The expression on Alastor’s face was changing, the young man flushed when he shifted and felt a hardness poke into his thigh. His victims didn't usually find his games... arousing.
“Well, I suppose I did wantcha' inside me,” he joked, blushing madly and his voice reverbing with the flustered tempo of his heart.
It was these shy little displays of insecurity that drove his victims into his grasp. Alastor never thought he’d be on the receiving end of his own devilish southern-boy charm, he was utterly helpless to resist.
The young man’s hands fumbled with his belt, but Alastor found the strength to raise his claws and shred the soft fabric, leaving angry scratches down the man’s legs. The exertion caused pain to ripple through his arms, but he couldn't deny how beautiful that young man’s soft moan felt to his ears.
The young man instantly regretted making such a noise when Alastor’s ears twitched with smugness, he thought his face would break with how wildly this stranger was causing him to smile. He still wore a light colored dresshirt, but Alastor found that more erotic than if he were naked. The hunter coated two fingers in Alastor’s blood from the pool that had formed under his wound, too thick to be absorbed by the thin sheet. His breathing lowered as he pushed more and more of the still-warm blood into his hole, working himself loose with it. They both knew it wouldn’t be nearly enough, but what was pleasure without pain, anyway.
The young man lowered himself onto the buck, silently promising to get him back for this later. The beating of their one heart thrummed in Alastor’s mind; shock and pain turned Alastor’s vision to static.
“I promise I’m not usually this easy,” the young man breathed out between harsh pants as they adjusted to the sensation of the other.
Trust me, I know. Alastor wanted to say.
Knowing the pain wouldn’t be subsiding, the young man slowly rocked his hips back and forth. Every movement caused nerves to spark hellfire though their bodies. The only pleasure to be taken was from the agony delivered to the other. They maintained eye-contact, their smiles parted for their shallow breaths. A battle for dominance commenced. Alastor was distantly aware of the thin wash of blood coating his cock and thighs, and he delighted knowing not all of it was his own. When tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, he felt he was about to lose again, but his host suddenly stilled with a tremer. Alastor instantly understood, and bucked his hips sharply to catch it again. His host fell over him with a soft gasp, Alastor's cock slipped out of the warm, wet hole to be rebuffed by cold air. The young man did not look at him as he trembled against his body-- and Alastor was thankful for a moment to blink the tears out of his eyes.
He couldn’t hardly feel the young man’s own gentle tears falling onto his chest, but he saw them glisten in the firelight. Alastor breathed a laugh, not in mockery but almost… love. He loved this. The sun had started to die outside, a deep and impenetrable void wrapped around the cabin. Alastor found more strength returning.
“You’re a mess, my dear.” Alastor cooed. The young man looked up at him with dark but beautifully reddened eyes and open smile.
They were both hard and unsatisfied. Hungry.
Alastor wanted that young man to sink back onto his bloodied cock and ride him hard till dawn, but now it was his turn.
He bid the young man to hold himself up momentarily as he turned himself back to face the table. The young man hugged into Alastor’s back quite embarrassingly as he recovered his own strength. Alastor’s blood was coating more of their lower bodies now, with each new movement reopening his wound. Below, Alastor twitched his soft tail to tease the young man’s cock.The young man gave a low hum and moved his hips, caressing the soft underside of the tail with the head of his penis. Alastor suppressed a moan, but arched his spine and raised his hips. Everything about this young man drove him insane.
The young man kissed and nipped at Alastor’s flesh as he positioned himself. He couldn’t help but chuckle at how easily he slid into the demon. Alastor flushed, he wasn’t a whore but he was relaxed and not totally inexperienced, damn it. He forced himself to breathe as the young man fucked into him, each thrust striking the man’s hips into his open wound, sending insurmountable jolts of pain through his body, setting him alight on the inside. The young man balanced his chest on Alastor’s back as he moved his hands down, one to hold Alastor’s sensitive tail against his cock as he thrust into the gentleman, and the other to stroke up and down the demon’s own, with ample blood to lubricate the process. Alastor’s mind couldn’t separate the sensations, and the antlers on his head grew larger and more defined in response to his overwhelming stimulation. He gave a pathetic cry and suddenly his mind went completely blank. Before he could process what had happened, the young man slammed Alastor’s head into the table, hard, and grabbed onto a handful of messy red locks. The hunter fucked into the demon deer with abandon as Alastor’s oversensitive body screamed bloody murder.
Alastor hadn’t realized how hard he’d been crying until it was over, when the young man hummed deeply and fell against Alastor’s back. Pain still pulsed through him in rhythm with the young man’s heartbeat, but his tears slowed and his breathing eventually returned to normal.
“Who’s tha mess now,” the young man smiled into Alastor’s skin.
Alastor had no idea how he got into this situation, he felt somewhat lightheaded.
The hunter let his cock fall out of the demon, relishing the soft tremors of pain he felt though the demon’s skin as he did, and slipped off the table.
Blood dripped thickly down the inside of his naked thighs, but he lazily adjusted his shirt collar as though he did not notice. Alastor hated to see him leave but loved to watch him go. The young man threw more kindling onto the fire and snapped on a small gas lamp. The mess in the light was… appropriate: blood smeared and dripping across their privates, bloodied handprints wherever the young man had touched, and plenty of blood spatter from force-fucking eachother to death.
The young man tasted the stew, it was certainly cooked but missing some important flavor he couldn't place. He hadn’t intended to get so carried away by the stranger, in fact he would be dead by now if things had gone to plan. Something about him, though, drove him a little crazier than usual.
Alastor was somewhat forlorn now that the fun was over. He pushed himself off of the table and joined his host by the fire.
“I’m afraid I’m no longer dressed for dinner,” he breathed into the young man’s shoulder.
“I have plenty of garments that should fit you just nicely, if you do me one favor,” the young man smiled at nothing in particular.
“And what favor might that be?”
“Stay, just for the night.”
“Stay? Will you be having me for breakfast as well?” He smiled but truthfully he didn’t know if he could survive another round of this.
The young hunter turned and wrapped his arms around the deer, smiling at Alastor’s brief discomfort. They stood there for a long while, bleeding onto the rug together.
“Oh, of course!” The young man shook off the embrace and found the half-empty bottle of wine he’d discarded earlier. “This is exactly what it needs,” he said, as he poured the rest of the cool wine into the stew. Alastor raised an eyebrow but otherwise didn’t mention it.
“Let’s clean up while the stew reheats, darling.”
The hunter led Alastor into the restroom, it was cramped and dark but Alastor could see the ornate porcelain tub next to the glow of a coal burner.
“I’d prepared this when we came in earlier, I suppose you’ll have ta’ join me if you want a hot one.” The coy smile on his face as he removed his shirt told Alastor he really, really wanted him to join.
They sank into the water together, not hot but not unpleasant. Alastor lay over the hunter to keep the walls of the tub from aggravating his wound. The intensity of their closeness in the narrow tub was almost exciting enough to want to fuck again, but the smell of dinner broiling away in the next room kept them from wasting too much time. They settled for french kissing as they each tried to make the other as uncomfortable as possible running soap-lathered hands all around each other. They rubbed and scratched the dried blood off each other's skin and gently toyed with each other’s holes to let the water wash them clean. It took them both an unusual amount of effort not to add even more cuts and bites to clean. Alastor was easily winning the kissing game, however, with his long demon tongue tasting his own blood down the hunter’s throat. When Alastor finally let the young man breathe, they agreed staying in the bloodied water would make them even less clean than when they entered, so Alastor begrudgingly pulled the hunter to his feet as they stepped out of the water. They had to share a towel, but neither complained. When they were ready, Alastor waited in the living room while the young man returned from his bedroom with two sets of clothes.
Freshly dressed in the smell of his human companion, Alastor helped the hunter drag two chairs over to the blood stained table. With a glass of wine and a southern helping of cornbread, the host served the “venison à la mode.” The rest of the evening was spent in polite conversation, as though they weren’t feasting on the slow-boiled flesh of Alastor’s body. Soft looks and gentle laughs seemed out of place over the bloodied evidence of the afternoon’s activities. Eventually however, the gas lamp burned out and the fire burned low.
“You don’t haf’ ta' to go, sir.” The young man’s voice was a little more pleading than he would have liked with a few glasses of wine in his stomach. Alastor found himself agreeing.
The hunter led Alastor to a small bedroom and collapsed into bed, pulling Alastor down on top of him, too tired to remove their clothes as they held each-other under the spell of wine and drugs. Alastor wanted to hold his hunter lover forever. He held on desperately, but eventually sleep overcame him.
Alastor awoke in his hotel room alone.