**Chapter 14 – Alastor (Stiles) POV**
I carried her up the remaining stairs two at a time, tentacles supporting her weight while my claws dug into the soft flesh of her thigh. The scent of fresh arousal mixed with my drying cum on her skin only sharpened the static screaming inside my skull. Another performance was about to begin. Another round where she would moan prettily, clench around me like a vice, and cry those perfect tears that meant nothing except how much she wished I were someone else.
The second-floor suite door flew open before I touched it, green sigils burning bright as my unbound power flung it aside. No chains held me back anymore. The moment Stiles Stilinski had slammed into this body on the hotel doorstep, every leash Lilith or anyone else once held over the original Alastor had simply ceased to exist. The resulting surge made me thirty percent stronger at minimum, maybe more. Static burst from my fingertips without effort. My Spark let me mimic any sound with perfect, terrifying clarity. And right now it all wanted to pour into her until she stopped pretending.
I dropped her onto the bed face-down and ripped the dress off her completely this time. The fabric tore like paper under my claws. "No more hiding behind silk for the guests downstairs," I broadcast, voice layered in cheerful radio venom. "If you're going to tolerate this, you'll do it bare."
Charlie whimpered as I shoved her knees apart and mounted her from behind in a single brutal thrust. She was soaked, overflowing with everything I had already pumped into her tonight, yet her cunt still gripped me like it never wanted to let go. The wet squelch echoed obscenely as I bottomed out, hips slamming against her ass hard enough to jolt her forward on the mattress. I didn't give her time to adjust. Anger and love twisted together into raw force as I began pounding her with deep, punishing strokes.
Her walls fluttered instantly, rippling along my thicker length in rhythmic spasms that felt far too eager. A tentacle slid beneath her to attack her clit with vicious vibration while two more pinned her shoulders to the bed. She came within ten seconds—hard—back arching as a broken cry tore from her throat and fresh slick gushed around my cock. The orgasm milked me relentlessly, her body shaking so violently the headboard cracked against the wall.
"Still acting?" I snarled, static exploding outward in violet arcs that shorted the lamps and painted the room in flickering green light. "Even when you're creaming all over me like a desperate whore?" I fucked her through the climax without mercy, hips snapping faster, claws leaving glowing marks on her hips. The Spark triggered another flashback: dying on the cold ground after the Alpha Pack war, claws buried in my chest while I used my last strength to mimic one final barrier that saved Scott and the others. The memory fused with the present and my power flared wildly. Outside, the hotel's protective dome tripled in density, lattice patterns spreading like living circuitry across every wall.
I yanked her up by her hair until her back pressed against my chest, never stopping the savage rhythm. One hand wrapped her throat while the other mauled her breast, pinching the nipple until she screamed again. Another orgasm ripped through her immediately, stronger than the last. Her cunt spasmed so intensely I nearly lost control, her juices spraying out with every thrust and soaking the sheets beneath us. The sounds she made were pornographic, raw, beautiful. They sounded like ecstasy. They had to be lies.
"Tell Vaggie how much you hate this when you crawl back to her," I hissed directly into her ear, radio filter glitching into something younger and more vicious. "Tell her how you have to endure the Radio Demon's cock while your precious hotel stays safe." I changed angles, driving upward into the spot that made her legs give out completely. She came a third time with a sob that sounded heartbreakingly genuine, body convulsing, tears streaming down her face as her inner muscles tried to pull me deeper.
The misunderstanding burned hotter than any hellfire. I loved her. Loved her enough to die for her dream, to be reborn wearing this monstrous grin, to protect every worthless sinner who walked through those doors if it made her smile. Yet all she offered was reluctant tolerance wrapped in theatrical moans.
My own release built like a static bomb. I slammed into her one final time and held deep as I erupted, flooding her already full cunt until thick white seed forced its way out around my pulsing cock and ran in heavy rivulets down her thighs. The orgasm dragged on, amplified by the unleashed power, each spurt accompanied by crackling energy that left both of us faintly glowing.
I stayed buried inside her as the aftershocks faded, breathing ragged behind the eternal smile. Downstairs the lobby noise had grown louder—new guests being assigned rooms, Angel Dust telling crude stories, Vaggie's voice tight with barely contained pain. The hotel was thriving because of our deal. My protection was absolute. My chains were gone forever.
I finally pulled out, watching with dark satisfaction as my cum poured from her well-used hole in a steady stream. Charlie collapsed forward onto the ruined bed, trembling, flushed, and thoroughly marked. I straightened my coat and adjusted my monocle, static settling into a slow, melancholic jazz tune.
"Clean yourself up, darling. The broadcast never sleeps, and neither does our arrangement." My voice dropped, edged with the hurt I refused to name. "Try to look a little less relieved that it's over next time."
I left her there leaking and shaking, already calculating tomorrow's defensive schemes and political maneuvers while the memory of her violently genuine-sounding orgasms looped like a broken record in my head. The Radio Demon's bargain continued. And so did the anger.