Archive of Our Own ^beta

Alastor is not the kind of person anyone wants to be around when he’s stressed and overwhelmed. With all the new residents the hotel's gotten since its reopening, however, stressed and overwhelmed is the best he can say about how he's been feeling recently. He's usually so composed, unshakeable even. Yet lately, he's snapping at everyone, always on the knife's edge of adding some new guest stars to his next broadcast.

It's Charlie who finally cracks and tells him he's taking a break until he can act normal again, and she refuses to discuss anything regarding the hotel with him until he's gotten himself sorted. She's advised everyone else keep away from him as well, and while he's glad he's finally being left alone, it's even more irritating that he can't even get any work done now that he's got the peace to do so.

Really, even he's sick of himself right now. He feels like a wind-up toy that's achieved perpetual motion, unable to relax in the slightest. As much as he hates to admit it, the one thing he really needs right now is to just turn his brain off entirely, hard reset it like those pesky computers Charlie's always trying to teach him to use. And he knows the perfect person — the only person, really — he can trust with the job.

He doesn't bother making the walk out to Cannibal Town. Though it would normally be quite enjoyable for him to do so, dealing with any more people than absolutely necessary right now is bound to result in casualties. He merely dissipates into the shadows of his room, re-emerging just outside the door to Rosie's Emporium — he's at least got enough sense about him to knock before popping in unannounced.

Rosie seems quite happy to see him, pulling him into a warm hug he doesn't reciprocate, too tense and on edge for such pleasantries right about now. She can read him like a picture book, though, always has been able to, and she pulls back with a frown.

“What's botherin’ ya, doe?” she asks, stroking his cheek. If it were anyone else, he'd have bitten that hand clean off.

“Everything,” he says, his frustration evident in his tone.

She pulls him inside, locking the door behind them. Her hand rests low on his back, rubbing circles against him over his coat. “Why don’t you come let mama help you take your mind off things then?” she suggests.

Alastor doesn't reply, only looks around nervously. It's the middle of the day, when her shop is normally packed. Though he doesn't see anyone else at first glance, he's still worried someone else might hear her. He isn't used to making these kind of visits during business hours, and the thought of anyone but Rosie seeing what they were about to do is absolutely mortifying.

She gives him a soft smile. “Don't worry, we're all alone. It's been a slow day anyways; I can afford to close down early. Now, come with me.”

She leads him to the back of the store, where she normally does all her sewing projects. The rolls of fabric block any view from the windows, and with the door being locked, he can finally feel certain this visit will stay private. She takes a seat on the settee normally reserved for her clients, patting her lap expectantly.

“Come now, don't keep your mama waiting.”

He does as he's told, sitting on her lap with his back to her. Her arms wrap comfortably around his waist, pulling him flush against her chest. One of her hands slips under his coat, tugging his shirt free from where it's tucked into his pants, just so she can slip her hand beneath it. She runs her fingers through the fur on his stomach, the sensation actually quite pleasant.

She rests her chin on his shoulder, speaking to him in a soft, soothing tone. “There's my good boy. You want mama to make ya feel good? Turn that clever little mind of yours right off?”

Alastor nods, still as nervous as the first time they ever did anything like this. He's pretty sure he's never going to get used to this dynamic of theirs, but he supposes it's better not to put too much thought into it. As much as he hated feeling like he wasn't in control, there's no one else he trusts more than Rosie when he needs to give that control up for a bit.

“Use your words. I know how you love to talk, so don't think you can get shy on me now.”

His face flushes a bit. He's always a little embarrassed at the start, but he knows exactly how she expects him to respond. “Yes, please, mama,” he replies, voice coming out a lot smaller than he intends it to.

Rosie gives him a warm smile, hugging him against her a bit. “Good boy,” she says again. Her hands slip out from under his clothes, moving now to unbutton his coat.

“Why don't we get you out of all these layers, hm? I can't imagine all that heat feels too nice when you're already so overwhelmed.”

It isn't really a question, more of a “this is what I’m going to do now” that he never bothers to question. She knows what she's doing, and he trusts he's always in good hands with her. His coat is quickly slipped from his shoulders, laid over the arm of the settee next to them. She moves to his bowtie, easily pulling the knot undone, letting it drape loosely around his neck. She begins unbuttoning his shirt with one hand, allowing the other to card gently through the fur on his chest.

He relaxes into the touches, trying to only focus his mind on Rosie and not the myriad of problems he's been having lately. It isn't exactly working yet, but her tender touch is still much appreciated. She gives a soft hum, clearly keen to the fact he was struggling to let go.

She reaches one hand up, stroking gently around his ears. She lets her nails dig in a bit, scratching pleasantly against his scalp. His tail begins thumping against her, one of those little involuntary reactions he'd normally hate, but can't be bothered to care about right now. Not when she's scratching in that spot he loves, the one that the deer part of his brain just can't get enough of. He lets out a rather pleased hum, closing his eyes as he relaxes back against her, leaning his head into her touch.

“Feels good, doe?”

“Yes, mama.” He doesn't feel as embarrassed this time, his mind already starting to drift off into that happy little haze where all he can think of is how nice her touch feels.

“Still got some gears turnin’ up there, though, huh?”

“Sorry, mama,” he replies quietly, ears dropping low. And he is sorry. He feels as if he's disappointed her somehow by not having fully slipped under yet.

She presses a gentle kiss to his neck. “Don’t apologize. Here, I know just what to do. Turn for me?”

He nods, turning to sit sideways in her lap. He rests his head against her chest as she unbuttons her blouse — Edwardian style really does suit her well. She lifts his head off her for a moment, just long enough to pull one breast free from her bra. He doesn't need to be guided for this part, more than happy to take her nipple into his mouth, closing his eyes as he suckles on her.

Her arms come to wrap around him again, cradling him against her. She continues gently scratching behind his ears, and something about this combination turns his brain right off. He reaches a hand under her bra, taking her other breast into his hand, stroking and squeezing it absently.

Rosie kisses his forehead gently. “Such a sweet boy, trying to take care of your mama, too.”

His tail wags a bit at the praise, something he feels he doesn’t get enough of anywhere else. But Rosie is never shy with it. He's always mama's favorite boy, and she'll let him know in a heartbeat. Perhaps that’s part of the draw for him, feeling like he can do no wrong to her, like he's always cared for, even when he's being difficult.

He cracks an eye open as he feels one of her hands press against the crotch of his trousers. She massages him there, her technique just perfect to quickly get his already half-hard cock to full mast. He lets out a soft whine as she continues rubbing it over the fabric, not really in the place to say anything, but knowing she'll understand what he wants.

“Shhh, you just keep nursing and let mama worry about makin’ you feel good, all right?” Her tone is firm, yet gentle, and he nods, closing his eyes and continuing to suckle on her.

“Good boy,” she says as she unbuckles his belt. She makes quick work of his pants and underwear, and he's a bit surprised how easy it is for her to get them off him in their current position.

“There's mama's big boy. So pretty like this, aren't ya?” she coos as she takes his cock in her hand. His tail wags fiercely at the compliments.

Her hand on his cock feels absolutely incredible, and Alastor quickly becomes lost in the sensation. She has a firm grip, pumping him slowly from base to tip as he lets out quiet moans against her skin. Her hand speeds up, and she does a little twist at the tip that rubs her thumb across it, and his hips buck forward involuntarily, chasing the feeling.

Her hand stills, and she clicks her tongue at him in admonishment. “Gettin’ ahead of ourselves, aren't we? You just relax and let me take care of everything.”

He whines, but does his best to be still as she resumes her ministrations. It's difficult, and he really has to focus on not moving too much. It's its own kind of torment, but the reward will be well worth it. This goes on for a few more minutes, though it feels like hours when he isn't allowed to do anything to move things along.

He whines when she pulls her hand away, and she chuckles at his neediness. “Don't be like that. You're doing so good for me, I thought ya might like a reward.”

He perks up at that, nodding excitedly. He should be embarrassed at how desperate he's acting, but it's not like she'd ever judge him for it. She guides him to sit back on the settee, moving to sit at his feet. She runs her hands up his thighs, rubbing circles into his skin as she spreads them apart.

“You know the rules, doe. Hands to yourself, let mama do all the work. Can you do that for me?”

He isn't really sure he should be making any promises there, but being honest won't get him what he wants, so he'll just have to do his absolute best. “Yes, mama. I'll be good, I promise.”

She gives him a warm smile, rubbing his thigh affectionately. “That's my good little fawn.”

Rosie doesn’t waste any more time, leaning forward and running her tongue up the underside of Alastor's cock. The feeling of her tongue on him, warm and wet, is incredible, and he lets out an embarrassingly loud moan from that alone, reflexively covering his mouth with his hand in an attempt to stifle the noise.

She's watching him like a hawk right now, though, and she immediately grabs his arm, pulling his hand back down to the settee. “Now why are you trying to keep quiet? You know how mama loves to hear that pretty voice of yours.”

“Sorry, mama.”

Rather than chastise him further for apologizing again, she merely sets back to work, seemingly satisfied he won't mess up again. He really doesn’t mean to misbehave so much today; he just can't help it. It's hard to be the good boy she tells him he is, but he craves the pleasure of being praised like that just as much as the physical pleasure she brings him.

She gives a few more of those long, teasing licks to his cock before finally engulfing the head in her mouth. She sucks hard and good Lord, he's going to go insane if she doesn't take more of him right now.

Her head bobs as, bit by bit, she takes more of his cock into her mouth. The tight, wet heat of her mouth is absolutely divine. His claws dig into the settee as the head of his cock hits the back of her throat, and he can feel the fabric give way as she hollows her cheeks, the suction driving him absolutely wild.

He's being loud, he knows it. He's certain anyone walking by the shop must be able to hear him right now, and he's just hoping the sound is somewhat dampened by all the static emanating from him at this point. She keeps sucking, bobbing her head quickly, even occasionally grazing her wonderfully sharp teeth against his skin. Every movement is dancing on that knife's edge between pure bliss and absolute torture as he tries to keep still, desperate for her to keep going.

His whole body feels almost electrified, hot and tingling as his pleasure mounts and mounts, coiling low in his gut. He can feel his climax approaching, and he tenses, doing everything he can to hold himself back. He wants nothing more than to shove Rosie's head down and fuck her mouth like an animal in heat, but if he makes any sudden moves, she'll stop altogether. He isn't sure how much more of this he can take.

“Please, mama, I can't— I need— Please,” he begs. Normally so well-spoken, he now can't seem to form a coherent thought, much less a proper sentence. Still, Rosie understands exactly what he needs, pulling off with an affectionate smile. She works his cock with her hand as she speaks, not giving him a moment's reprieve.

“You’ve done so well today, doe. Be a good boy and come for mama.”

It's a combination of things that make his undoing, really. The way she speaks to him; the way she squeezes his cock as she works her hand up and down in those rapid, steady strokes; the way she watches him, clearly intent on bearing witness to the moment his orgasm hits. And when it hits, it hits him hard, that tight coil of pleasure snapping like a rubber band stretched too taut. Pure bliss floods through him, waves of heat and pleasure crashing down with each rope of cum spurting from his cock. The radio static he's been unintentionally emitting builds to an almost deafening crescendo, stifling any noise he could possibly make for anyone but himself and Rosie.

If Alastor had any problems when he came in today, he damn sure can't remember them now. His thoughts filter languidly through the hazy afterglow of his orgasm, and all of them are centered either on Rosie herself or just how relaxed he finally feels as he comes down from that high. He doesn't remember closing his eyes, but as he opens them again, he finds Rosie smiling fondly at him, head resting against his thigh. Her chest and blouse are streaked with his cum, though she doesn't seem to mind that much.

“Feelin’ any better, doe?”

He gives a weak nod, still panting for breath. “Thank you, mama.”

Rosie presses a gentle kiss to his thigh. “Anything for my favorite little fawn.”