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Staring into the mirror in front of you, you were acutely aware of your heart beating in your rib cage, and you rather thought you might become lightheaded if you moved too quickly. Instead, you leaned forward against your humble vanity and tried to steady your breathing. Your eyes quickly passed over your reflection, and you felt a mixture of nerves and exhilaration blossom in your chest. You had some light make up on, and with your hair curled neatly and pressed in the fashionable waves against your head, and a delicate, silver feather piece adorning the side, you decided you looked more like a small child playing dress up than you did a young dame about to head out on the town.
You sighed, fingers tugging nervously at the hem of the rather fetching flapper dress you wore. It was a brilliant emerald green and shimmied sinfully when you moved. It had arrived just this morning in a box delicately wrapped in butchers paper (of all things!), and while the packaging had not given much away, the neatly scrawled note attached to it certainly did. As with anything the man did, even Alastor's simple note of “See you at dusk, darling” had a certain elegant air to it. In fact, just the thought of it brought your pulse back up.
“Oh!” A soft voice exclaimed from behind you. “Oh, you look so beautiful!”
You turned to find your younger sister standing in the doorway of your room, her eyes practically shining with excitement. Dressed in her simple white nightgown, with her long flowing locks, bright eyes and rosy cheeks, Abigail looked every ounce the little angel that she was.
“You really think so?” You turned back to your mirror, fingers coming up to smooth your hair to the side as your anxiety came flooding back.
“Mhmm,” Abigail moved into your room, her head appearing in the mirror at your shoulder. She leaned against you with a dreamy sigh.
“Do you think he'll take you dancing?”
You scrunched your nose in thought; the idea of dancing publicly with Alastor had been at the back of your mind all day. You did enjoy his company and he was a swell dancer; however, the thought of other people seeing you, watching you, made your palms sweaty.
Entirely too unladylike given the gentleman escorting you tonight.
“I suppose...” Your gaze drifted back to your reflection, wondering briefly if your makeup was in fact bold enough, considering the rumours of the company Alastor tended to surround himself with. Why, he had told you just last week about one of his closest pals who ran her own speakeasy...imagine that! A dame running her own place, during a time like this no less. Self doubt began seeding itself in your mind once more.
Abigail seemed just as caught up in some daydream as you, a dreamy smile on her face as she gently toyed with one of your tassels.
A knock on the door startled you both enough that you bumped the vanity, causing the littering of jars and bottles there to wobble dangerously. Abigail squealed, your shoulders hunching in response to the high pitch. She skipped to your door, lingering long enough to look back at you with another little smile, but another series of knocks stopped her from saying the words that were clearly on her lips. She dashed away, her long hair flying behind her like a sail. Your daddy was working a double shift that night, and while it seemed impolite to have a child answer the door, you weren't certain that your legs would even carry you down the hall and to the front door.
You heard Abigail's tinkling laughter ring out, and so with one last deep breath, you smoothed your dress down and quickly made your way to the front sitting room. There, looking even more dapper than he usually did, stood Alastor. He was dressed in a well fitted dark suit, and although it was simple in design, the materials looked high-ticket. He had exchanged his work blazer for a longer overcoat and he wore two toned brogue shoes on his feet; you noticed that his socks peeked out from under the hem of his well pressed slacks. On his head, he wore a simple fedora, pushed back now so his facial features were lit by the soft light of the room. He was dashingly handsome, as always, and you felt a sudden need to rush forward and throw yourself into his arms (although you knew better-)
His rakish grin was present and his brown eyes glittered with good natured impishness, as he bent down to address your sister. She had a rather fetching blush upon her cheeks, and you noticed she had a small bouquet of flower clutched in her fist. You nervously cleared your throat before fully stepping into the room. Alastor's eyes flew to find you at the sound, and his grin seemed to grow as he took you in. You felt heat spread on your cheeks, and some new warmth bloom in your core.
“Al brought me flowers!” Abigail chirped, holding out the delicate bouquet of purple Louisiana phlox, tied with simple twine.
“I see,” You smiled. You moved forward to brush her hair off her temple; you caught the way Alastor watched you as you walked, the material of the dress catching the soft light. It gave you some heady rush of power.
“Still, it's nearly your bedtime. Let's get those in a vase and then you're off.”
Abigail groaned, throwing a dainty hand to her forehead in mock despair, “But it's not even that late; Daddy isn't even back yet!”
“I know,” You soothed. You felt a small pang of worry at the thought of leaving your sister, so young still, alone. There had been another string of disappearances, although this time there had been whispers of a body being recovered...
“Wash up and head to bed. I suppose it wouldn't hurt you to read until daddy gets home. And make sure the door stays locked, and-”
“I know, I know,” Abigail grumped, small hands on her waist. “I'm not baby anymore.”
“Of course not,” You pressed a kiss to her sweet-smelling hair and with a tight hug, sent her on her way. Abigail paused at the stairs, throwing Alastor a shy wave before bouncing off.
At his chuckle, you turned and couldn't help the blush that adorned your cheeks.
“Sorry about that,” You said rather lamely.
“Nonsense, my dear,” Alastor waved an airy hand. “She's quite the charmer!”
You hesitated then, taking a moment to look him over again. He caught your pause and with an all too alluring smirk, opened his arms wide. You rushed forward, an errant giggle escaping you as he caught you and spun you so you were flush with the door, your cheeks still holding a pretty blush. The kiss he pressed to your lips was chaste, but still made butterflies swoop in your belly.
Although you had known Alastor for almost a full year now, he had only begun courting you over the last few months. What had started off as a local radio host simply visiting his favourite waitress (his words, of course), blossomed into a friendship that revolved around your shared love of music and dancing. While Alastor made a wonderful dance partner, he had never shown any interest in anything so banal as dating any of the dames that threw themselves at him (of which there were plenty). It had come as quite the surprise one morning, when he leaned across the counter top to reach for your hand after you took his order (his usual of grillades and grits and a black coffee) to ask if you would accompany him into the city. You had blurted out a “yes!” perhaps a little too fast, but since that day you had become even more fond of the man.
“You look good, doll.” He purred against your mouth.
You smiled up at him as he pulled away, fluttering your lashes, “Oh, this old thing?”
He chuckled and with a flourish, spun you back around so that the dress flared enticingly around your curves.
“Why, you look delectable, darling!” He brought the hand he was still holding to his lips, looking as though he was going to place a kiss to the top. Instead, he gave you a wink and then nipped at your fingertips.
You pulled your hand away sharply, with a giggle that bordered on a squeal. You waved him away with admonishment, reaching for your coat. “Stop that now!”
Alastor sent you an all too charming smirk, eyes lidded with poorly concealed greed. You really were the most entertaining creature he had stumbled upon yet! He reached into his pockets, pulling out dark leather gloves. He tugged them on with a grace only Alastor could manage, and offered you a hand. You followed all to happy to obey, pausing briefly to lock up. He gave you a light, encouraging tug when you seemed to falter, wide eyes entirely all to innocent and doe-like in the rising moonlight. There was a soft late spring breeze, and it ruffled your hair in a way that made his hand itch to bury in your tangles. That all too familiar buzz settled under his skin, and his fingers twitched with a sudden pent up energy. He often felt like this when stalking his next victim; side-eyeing you as you walked along side him, pretty and young and submissive, he chided himself. As much as he longed to taste you properly-
to take part of you into him-
he wanted more. Knowing you offered far more entertainment to be had, he fought back his lesser desires (his momma had raised him to be a gentleman, after all) and continued to pull you along in the twilight.
You eyed the man walking next to you; he was just slightly ahead of you, as he always was, his zest for whatever he had up his sleeves evident. He had a slightly absent look on his face, his smile closed lipped and soft. Alastor often looked like this, you mused, when he was lost in whatever brilliant thoughts he dreamed up. It was endearingly him; your heart clenched in your chest and you had to tear your eyes away from him, afraid to give yourself away.
However, he seemed awfully pensive tonight, and you felt a touch of self-doubt bubble up again. Was he regretting your company already? Were you not engaging enough? True, your nerves had quieted you, but given that this was your first time out with Alastor, so openly, you felt that was appropriate. Perhaps he was occupied with something else...
The arrival of the trolley seemed to snap the man out of his reserve. He stood straight backed and helped you hop up before gracefully jumping up himself. He completed the motion with a cocksure grin, one hand moving to grasp you about the waist, while the other hand straightened his hat. You let slip an errant giggle, undeniably wrapped up in his spell.
The trolley grew full after a few stops, as more and more young couples and a group of young dandys came to grab a ride. You found yourself pushed closer to Alastor, so that you had to crane your neck to be able to look him in the face. He was now staring slightly past you, although this time his smile seemed strained. You chanced a peek over your shoulder and noticed a young man, fair and curly haired, looking back at you. The boy gave you a smile when he noticed you had caught him staring and one of the men standing with him gave him a playful shove. Their laughter was surprisingly brash; next to you, you felt Alastor stiffen. His arm curled around your waist even more, until your cheek was smashed into his chest. His heartbeat thumped in your ear, the sound instantly soothing.
“Al?” You questioned softly.
“Hmm?” He murmured down at you, his eyes still on the pair of younger men; they were now passing a cigarette back and forth.
“Al,” Your words came stronger this time, drawing his eyes down to yours. You raised an eyebrow in response, grinning. “You're gonna bruise me...” You light laughter trailed off, faltering slightly when something, some dark shadow, passed over his face at your words. There was a rather sinful curve to the smirk on his lips and he ducked his head-you thought wildly that he might mean to kiss you in front of everyone- but the trolley shuddering to a stop seemed to pull him back.
“Here we are, darling!” He chirped, his voice airy and bright as always. He helped you down with his usual airs; you noticed his eyes lingered on your hemline when your dress fluttered as you hopped down. It made your knees suddenly weak, and you were grateful that he offered you his arm as he once again set the pace forward.
The night was still fair, twilight having moved steadily into evening light. The lampposts had been lit, their glow casting soft shadows on the cobblestones. Your heels clipped softly on the stone and you were grateful you had chosen a more sensible pair, given the wear on your feet tonight. Alastor led you on with confidence; it was obvious he knew his way well. He told of the different shops and tucked away cafes as you passed, full of endless stories as always. His voice lulled you into comfortable ease, as it always did, and you found your nerves finally ebbing.
A few blocks later and Alastor brought you to a stop in front of a rather nondescript door, although there was the alluring faint hint of some jazzy notes lingering in the air beyond it. A knock later and the door was cracked, and a small fidgety man peered out. He seemed to recognize Alastor, and offered him a hand. The two did a quick, jaunty handshake and the other man pulled back. The door opened and without hesitation, Alastor swept you inside. Immediately, the music became crisper and in the low lighting, you saw Alastor's eager smile. The butterflies came back, swooping in your belly.
Alastor keep a steady hand on the small of your back, leading you deeper into the place. The lights were low, and there was a three piece jazz combo playing on a slightly raised stage off in the corner. The air was hazy with smoke and the smell of mixed drinks. You noticed a few girls, dressed in bold cut dresses and wearing bolder make up, sitting at the bar while a few men hung around. You eyed them as you past; you had heard of women sitting and drinking along side male companions but to see it made the butterflies burst in your stomach again. It seemed so risque to you still, with your humble beginnings, but the thought of imbibing and sitting so closely to the very man still touching your back made you warm.
Alastor led you to a cozy corner in the far back with comfortable looking seating around a small rounded table. There were already a few people there, all of them calling out greetings to Alastor as you approached. Immediately, your eyes were drawn to a pretty dame, dressed in a stylishly cut and bedazzled box dress. She looked past you instead to Alastor, fluttering her long dark lashes, her bold coloured lips pulling back to show off a dazzling smile.
“Oh there you are, sugar!” The girl squealed, her voice somehow both high pitch but breathy. “I was beginning to worry you'd been run over by a trolley!”
Alastor dropped his hand from your back and reached for the new girl instead. He caught her hand up and with his customary flair, bowed and pressed a kiss to the top of her hand. You watched with slightly narrowed eyes as the girl blushed rather prettily, all doe-eyed and fluttering lashes still.
“I wouldn't miss one of your soirees for anything, my dearest Mimzy!” His smile was even more pronounced than usual as his eyes took her in.
You felt the first waves of jealousy give in your chest. Across from you, Mimzy hmm'd thoughtfully and then turned her attention to you. She looked you up and down and a rather callous giggle escaped her. You felt your nerves bristle.
“Oh Al, don't tell me you've dragged some poor bluenose along with you!” Her simper was sugary sweet but laced with an edge.
“Oh no, no, no, my dear!” Alastor cried. He slithered an arm around your waist and pulled you flush to his side. You saw Mimzy's eyes narrow slightly. “This little darling is an absolute bearcat!”
“Well then,” Mimzy cleared her throat; you felt some odd sense of pride at her apparent discomfort. “I'll get the boys to send you some drinks.” And with a flouncy wave, she moved off through the crowd.
Once Mimzy was out of sight, you turned to throw Alastor a questioning look. He gave you one of his more dazzling smiles and shook his head.
“Don't you mind her now, sweetheart. Mimz and I go way back, she's protective is all.”
He pulled you forward more, taking your coat and offering you a seat. Once you were settled, he shrugged off his own coat (rather dashingly), and sat next to you to introduce you to the others sitting in the space. A short yet handsome man with green eyes and blond hair slicked back was introduced as James and the pretty redheaded dame next to him as Helen. Helen eyed you with sharp brown eyes, her freckles visible on her cheeks despite the make up she wore.
“Oooh, so you're Al's new moll, huh?” She grinned, leaning forward as though to look at you closer. “She's so pretty Al, even for you!”
You felt your cheeks heat at the implication in Helen's voice. Your dress was beginning to feel uncomfortable and the product in your hair was itchy. You felt like some small child caught playing dress up. It was Alastor's strong arm coming to rest around your shoulders that brought you out of your reserve. You had missed what he said, although judging by the laughter around the small set, it had been one of his usual charming quips. You were grateful when drinks were set down before you all, Alastor passing you a glass of deep, dark liquor. You took a larger gulp than you needed to, your nerves getting the best of you. Your eyes watered and you felt fire burning the back of your throat. Thankfully, no one seemed to have noticed, except...
“Alright, darling?” Alastor pressed his lips to the shell of your ear, the burn in your throat immediately overshadowed by the thrill that ran down your spine at his action. Even in the dim lighting, he was almost painfully perfect, sitting back with his legs crossed and looking completely at ease.
“Everything's just Jake!” You smiled up at him, feeling the effects of the drink rather quickly. You hadn't had much experience with booze before, the odd sip of communion wine or celebratory champagne with your father's coworkers over the holidays being the extent of it.
“How about we take a spin then?” He had you up and on your feet before you could argue.
Dancing with Alastor was always breathtaking. He seemed to delight in having your body twist and contort to follow his lead, through giddily sharp twirls, spins, and dips. His feet were light and he moved so effortlessly, you felt as though you simply were pulled along in his wake, like some great undertow. During one particularly slow number, he pressed close to you (closer than he had ever before) and whether it was his near proximity or the alcohol in your system, you felt as though your skin was on fire. His large hand, still in his leather gloves, cradled the small of your back, bodies flushed together as he swayed you back and forth. As the song ended, he dipped you low and, towering over you, trailed his nose along your pulse point. It was boldly forward, even given the environment, and your heart stammered in your chest so violently you were sure he could hear it.
The pace of the music changed, the band effortlessly moving into a faster two step, but Alastor remained in place, holding you tilted back in his arms. In the low, hazy light, he appeared caught up in the moment, his thin chest heaving slightly even through the layers he wore. His nose remained buried in the crook of your neck, his warm lips lingering over the rapid pulse beating there. You panted-whether from being held in a prolonged dip or from his actions you weren't too sure- and felt your skin flush. When he pulled you sharply back up, it was quick enough that your head swam slightly. You remained quiet and still in his hold, watching him as he seemed to come back from whatever thought process he had been lost in. His lips parted in an amused grin, but his next words were cut off by the sound of someone clearing their throat just behind you.
You had a feeling you knew who it was, even before the breathy tone reached your ears.
“Oh sugar, what about little ol' me?” Mimzy was back, fluttering lashes and syrupy sweet smile. You rolled your eyes before you could stop yourself, and caught Alastor's smirk widening from the corner of your eye.
“Well, perhaps if this darling dame can spare me?” He quirked an eyebrow at you, eyes dark and even more alluring in the dim lighting. You nodded, not trusting your tongue.
The earlier waves of jealousy came crashing back to whorl in your chest as Alastor turned to whisk Mimzy off to the dance floor. You stood where the pair had left you, watching as the two quick-stepped and spun with ease. It was easy to see they were comfortable with each other, their shared past showing in the way Mimzy seemed to know, even before Alastor led the change, that she was to meet his turn or spin. They looked heartbreakingly beautifultogether, and it was at one particularly complicated twirl and Mimzy's ringing peals of laughter that made hot tears spring to your eyes.
You were suddenly aware that you were standing rather lamely just to the edge of the dance floor, looking every ounce the sullen wallflower you felt. Ducking your head so no one would hopefully notice the tears now rolling down your cheeks, you pushed yourself through the crowd, not even pausing to retrieve your coat. You found yourself out on the dark street without much thought as to how you moved. You focused instead on keeping your pace even, eyesight blurred from your soft weeping.
You felt both somehow simultaneously angry and devastated, your blood boiling at odds with the empty yet utterly crushing weight that settled behind your breast. It had been foolish of you to think that Alastor thought of you as any thing more than his companion. After all, you knew him to be well liked and popular among the crowd that frequented the French Quarter. You were a simple country mouse, plain and none too spectacular. It was no real wonder why he got caught up with Mimzy, dear friends or not. The other woman was petite yet curvy, hair and makeup glamorous beyond your simple skill set. She was a real dish and his delight in having her company was clear to see.
Feeling utterly foolish, you paused in your walking. You didn't recognize the area you found yourself in and felt a spike of fear cut through your muddled emotions, clearing your head enough for you to stop crying. Sniffling, you turned to take in your surroundings, praying for a sign to point you in the right direction-
“'Cuse me, Miss? Miss!” A masculine voice called. You looked to find the young man from the trolley standing a little ways away. He took in your blotched face; you were sure your eye makeup had run, surely only adding to the wretchedness of your looks. “Want a gasper?”
The question caught you off guard, “Oh, um...no, no thank you. I don't, um, I don't smoke.” You gave a small shrug.
He stepped closer, slipping a cigarette between his lips before tucking the pack into the front pocket of his jacket. He produced a match and smoothly lit the end, the soft light catching his blue eyes. He took a deep drag and smoothed his hair back, before moving forward with one palm turned up to you.
“When I saw you earlier, I was hoping to steal a dance from you. You were the prettiest doll in that joint tonight!”
You wavered slightly; you hadn't realized the group of men from the trolley had ended up in the same joint as you had. It did nothing to ease your nerves.
“Thank you,” You gave a weak smile, acutely aware the two of you were alone on the side street. You pressed your back a little more firmly to the nearby wall, maintaining space.
He seemed to notice your hesitation, for he stopped short of you and with a light shrug, placed a hand in his slacks pocket and took another drag. On his exhale, his grin was easy and soft on his boyish face.
“Aw, I didn't mean to spook you, miss.” He drawled easily. The light breeze ruffled his curls. “Just thought, well, it ain't my place, but you looked sad with that Joe you were with...”
“I'm alright, really.”
The boy gave you a close look, “Uh-huh, like I said it ain't my place, miss. Unless you want that dance now?” He gave you a wink.
You huffed, daintily attempting to wipe away the tears and makeup from your face; his tenacity charming you. You made to step out of the shadow of the wall, debating on perhaps taking him up on his offer for a smoke when the cool, smooth texture of leather lit upon the nape of your neck. You stalled, and in front of you, the young man's smile immediately vanished from his face.
“Quite unnecessary,” A familiar voice came from behind you. You felt your stomach drop in shock.
“Right then, sure,” The boy gave the new figure a side look. He gave you a small nod, hurriedly moving along, the smoke from his cigarette trailing wisplike in his wake.
You tried to swallow past the lump that had risen in your throat, unsure of why you were suddenly emotional once more. You felt Alastor press into you, your head barely coming to rest at his sternum. His hand had moved from the back of your neck to circle around your front, his large palm coming to rest on your stomach. He tucked his head to the crook of your neck and murmured your name, and despite his arrival giving you a fright, you were rather ashamed at the giddy nerves that fluttered in your belly. Your pride kept you quiet, although some part of you greatly wanted to snipe at him, still quite bitter over his display at the speakeasy. However, it was overshadowed by the fact that he had apparently come looking for you.
You were so lost in your warring thoughts that you missed the warning telltale signs; twitching fingertips on your belly, Alastor's face still pressed closely to your pulse point, although his lips had parted so his teeth showed in some predatory snarl. His anger -
which had ebbed slightly once he stepped out into the cobble-stoned streets to look for you, and had been filled instead with the sense of purpose that followed him on all his hunts-
was beginning to rise again. It had been one thing to find you had left without so much as a word, but to find you in some out of the way alley with another man (the one who had stared) was another. His skin thrummed with some wild emotion he had not felt in some time (not since the night he had killed the small blonde girl-the night he had swept you around the small cafe). You were docile in his grasp, the feeling of your soft, breakable body against his caused his breathing to quicken. He wasn't used to such feelings; he reigned easily over his emotional responses, his games and tricks relying deeply on the other's trust in him, leading him to mask his true intentions. And he did so exceptionally well, except when faced with you. It was absurdly infuriating.
Alastor had been quiet for some time, and you were beginning to feel trickles of fear creep back in. This was a man who always had something to say for any occasion; he appeared in some trance like state, the only movement his rapid breathing and the clenching of his fingers against your waist. One particularly tight squeeze made you flinch; in some wild response the man tensed briefly before pressing his mouth to the side of your neck and biting into you. You gasped, the bite more pressure than pain, but still surprising.
The sound seemed to spur Alastor on, one hand coming to tangle in your locks, fingers sharply pulling loose the carefully styled curls so as to better to grasp your roots. With a sharp tug, he had your neck bent and bared to him. His blunt teeth dragged from where he had bitten down to where your shoulder met your neck. He nipped there too, drawing another gasp from you. His other hand was pressing into your stomach in such a way that you wildly wondered if you might bruise. It was only when he nipped you for a third time, this one hard enough to hurt, did you react. The jolt was enough to make your hands fly to the arm at your waist- not caring to wait for his consent to touch- and you struggled briefly in an attempt to free yourself.
His response seemed to happen in the blink of an eye. The hand in your hair pulled sharply, shooting pain down through your roots. The hand on your belly moved to spin you and you were slammed backwards into the wall with such force that your head bounced from the impact. Stars bloomed in front of your eyes, tears welling up and blurring your vision. His fingers left your hair and suddenly you felt the cool leather of his gloved hand at your throat, your eyes widening. Opening your mouth to try and speak to him, hoping maybe to calm him down, he took the motion as invitation to give you a searing kiss. His movements were rushed and clumsy; he was no longer the chaste gentleman you knew him to be. His lips were bruising, teeth nipping at your bottom lip before he would soothe the sting with his tongue. The hand resting against your windpipe applied just enough pressure to keep you still in his arms, unspoken warning in the way his fingers twitched.
The ordeal had you caught in some whirlwind of emotion. You were too stunned to move, the low throbbing at the back of your skull and the pressure at your neck immobilizing you. He was relentless, and some deep dark part of you thrilled in the knowledge that it had been you to spark such passion from him. Your lips were swollen and you couldn't quite catch your breath; Alastor was drawing in ragged breaths through his nose, not wanting to break contact with your mouth. Your skin was overly sensitive, and you were aware of the scratch of his overcoat, the feel of his one hand grabbing, pulling, pinching your sides and waist, the other still stationed at your neck. Your head was swimming, and although you felt nausea threatening to build in your belly, you are startlingly aware of the heat pooling between your thighs, one which sent of sparks of electricity everywhere he touched. Just as you thought you might cry out from it all, somewhere close by the sound of a heavy door opening and slamming shut, a dense metal clang, rang out.
It was as though you both had been doused with ice water. Alastor whipped his head back so quickly you were surprised it remained on his shoulders. He took his eyes off you to scan the alley way; in doing so, he seemed to suddenly come back to his senses. You watched as some horrible tremble seemed to settle over him, his body shaking violently against yours. It made him press closer to you, in turn pressing you further into the wall. When he turned back, you let slip a slight gasp. His pupils were blown wide, the moonlight glinting off the polished rims of his glasses, that in some trick of the light made them look red at times. His breathing was uneven, chest heaving. His teeth gleamed white in the evening light, making the grin blooming on his lips look dangerous. He was terribly imposing, even with the odd twitch of his muscles.
Your heart hammered in your chest, your breast heaving to match his. You could feel your bruised bottom lip quivering, a sea of emotion welling up in your chest. Half of your body seemed stuck in the instinctual flight or fight mode, your muscles quivering with adrenaline that had flooded as soon as he had grabbed you; yet, your feet felt turned to stone, and you suddenly realized you were clutching his shirt with both hands as though he was the only thing that could ground you.
“A-Alastor,” You stuttered his name, your voice hoarse. You found yourself wanting nothing more than to escape home. He had dropped eye contact by now, instead looking past the tip of your nose; with a shudder, you realized he was staring at the pale column of your neck. You had a frantic thought of whether his bites would leave marks on your skin.
“Alastor...” You sounded meeker than you wished too, but your frazzled nerves couldn't be helped. You felt terribly confused, feelings of hurt and something much more carnal, warring inside.
Alastor let out a deep sigh, before he angled his head to rub his nose along the length of yours. It was jarringly affectionate and made your breath stutter and your heart leap. However, when his mouth brushed against your overly tender lips, you couldn't contain the small sob that bubbled up. He stilled, his breath mingling with yours as his lips remained softly against your mouth.
“Perhaps I should have been more clear...” He rasped, voice guttural and lower than you had ever heard it. It sent a shock to your core and your breath hitched.
His fingers were circling a pattern into the spot between your shoulder blades, deceptively gentle.
“You are mine.”
He brought a knee up to brace between your thighs, lifting you in his arms so he could grasp you by the back of both knees. With your balance suddenly thrown, without thought your arms flew around his neck, trying to find purchase. Your fingers dug into the material of his jacket, and when he dipped his head to kiss you again, you were vaguely aware of the taste of salt on his tongue as it swiped your bottom lip, making you taste your own tears. This kiss was tantalizingly, achingly soft against your tormented lips and the dull ache from your abused body evaporated as it stole your attention.
He pulled back just enough to lock eyes with you; you felt the dam of nerves burst in your chest. Even after that encounter, some deep part of you marvelled at how achingly beautiful he looked; hair mussed, glasses slightly askew on his nose, lips tantalizingly swollen from his own harsh administrations. Between your thighs, his own was strong but lean muscled. You became aware that the hem of your dress had been rucked up to the curve of your hips, leaving your simple cotton-clothed core pressed against his slacks. You could feel the flush blooming across your cheeks.
Alastor gave you a rather queer look before he smirked at you, moving so that his hand could prop you up, his fingers curling to rest just a few inches up from the back of your knee. Some sick twist of heat bloomed in your belly, and you bit your lip to stifle the gasp that threatened to spill from you. It tickled and yet some part of you eagerly wished he would trail his fingers just a little bit higher...
He brought his lips to rest against your ear, “Say it.”
You swallowed harshly, resolving to remain quiet. He clicked his tongue and nipped at your bottom lip, making you gasp.
“Say it, darling.” His breathing was slowing, and it seemed with it came his renewed ability to talk.
You could think of several words to tell him, some sure to make your dear momma roll in her grave, but you squared your jaw instead. Your pride had been bruised over and over in one single night and you were loath to admit more defeat. As was typical for you, you buried your confused emotions under the comfortable guise of anger, resolving to simply give him the silent treatment. A particular pet peeve of his...
He shifted his leg, ever so slightly, but given your current position, it created a delicious spark of friction that made you inhale sharply. The smug grin on his face told you he knew exactly what he was doing, flexing his fingers against your skin in such a way that your cheeks heated with a pretty blush. Alastor shifted again, this time pressing his leg forward while his large hands pulled you in towards his hip; the action made your eyes flutter shut and your lips part as you huffed.
He chuckled, puffs of warm breath spanning across your face, “You deliciously stubborn creature, you.” He rubbed his nose against the end of your own. Whether from the alcohol or his kisses, you felt a sudden rush of affection burst in your breast. It made heat coil in your belly, and you shifted on his thigh, and although you'd never admit it, delighted in feeling the rush of sparks from the connection.
“I'm yours,” You breathed.
Your words caught him off guard; a rare sight, but you noticed his eyes widen slightly and his tongue darted out to wet his lip. He had peculiar quirks you had only picked up on after spending so much time with him over the last several months.
“I'm yours, Alastor. And you're mine.”
He stared at you through half-lidded eyes, eyebrow quirked at the hint of challenge in your tone. The breeze lifted, shaking the budding leaves on the trees in a way that sounded like whispers. You skin erupted in goosebumps, and you couldn't help the small chill that run down your spine. Perhaps feeling your trembles, you watched as his lips curved upwards and he shook his head, as though charmingly amused by your words.
He took a moment to eye you closely, taking in your rather ragged appearance. You made quite the sight, lips red and swollen, apples of your cheeks bright, hair mussed and having come down from your curls to frame your face enticingly. His ego swelled, some dark pride bursting in his chest, knowing it had been him that had done this to you. He hadn't had a play-thing like you before and you were endlessly amusing. Pretty to be sure, naive and obedient by nature, but with a little fire. You were a rather fitting match...
“Alright, sweetheart,” He said, his tone patronizingly sweet, but there was a cruel edge to the curve of his grin. “So it's a deal then?”
With more bravado than you felt at the moment, you gave him a grin to match his own, “It's a deal.”
When Alastor pressed his lips to yours once more, your let your eyes flutter close and simply give in to the feeling of being in his arms so intimately. Behind your closed eyes, you thought you caught the flare of some green light, but when you opened them, you saw only brown eyes and teeth.