What a strange, new feeling... Alastor's chest felt tight, like it was twisting... not from anxiety (though he felt a bit of that too), not from anger or adrenaline or the thrill of the hunt.

No, it was... softer than that. It felt...

...Like an embrace.

Alastor's ears drooped uncertainly, but he mimicked the gesture with his own lips, feeling the soft way they interlocked. The special way they matched. Ah... was this what people were so drawn to? It was special. Of course the king of Hell would be skilled at something like this - Charlie hadn't been born out of the ether, after all.

It was just a little strange to think that he was getting this softness from someone else. Who would kiss someone like him, still tasting of blood, with centuries of blood on his hands? Yet here they were, doing something inexplicable to him.