A whole month had passed since our delightful shopping expedition, marking the fourth Month in my burgeoning friendship with Al. Lately, his company has become a more frequent and cherished presence in my life. Alastor's preference for staying indoors during his visits had become evident, though understandable; the toll of maintaining his human form likely demanded respite.
As the clock struck noon, Al and I found ourselves nestled on the couch, the gentle hum of companionship filling the room. While I absently scrolled through my phone, Alastor lay with his head resting upon my chest, his presence a comforting weight against my heartbeat. As drowsiness crept over me, a fleeting thought crossed my mind: *Is he always this affectionate with everyone?*
Before I could think any further, the tendrils of sleep enveloped me, cradling me in their embrace. It wasn't until the clock hands had danced their way to 1:20 pm that I stirred awake, disoriented by the passage of time. To my surprise, Alastor had maneuvered himself beneath me, creating a cocoon of warmth and closeness on the couch. With me nestled between his legs and my back leaning against his sturdy frame, a sense of intimacy washed over me.
"Al," I began, but he silenced me with a soft shush, his voice a soothing melody that quelled my need for words. "No need for pointless chatter, my dear," he murmured, his attention fixed upon the pages of a new book he held. For several moments, we remained ensconced in this tender tableau, the quietude of the room punctuated only by the rustle of pages.
Yet, as the minutes ticked by, a prickling sense of self-consciousness began to gnaw at me, fueled by the intimacy of our proximity. With a hesitant shuffle, I reluctantly extricated myself from our cozy embrace, seeking solace in the distraction of other pursuits.
I had decided to look into one of Lumine's old cook books and decided I was going to make some potato soup. I went ahead and started grabbing all the ingredients to get them ready. For thirty minutes, I danced between counter-top and stove, orchestrating a culinary ballet of chopping, slicing, and simmering. The kitchen pulsed with energy, the aroma of herbs and spices swirling in the air like a fragrant incantation.
Yet, as I stood poised on the precipice of culinary greatness, a sudden whim seized me—a desire for the subtle bite of minced onion to elevate my creation to new heights. With determination fueling my steps, I ventured towards the heart of our culinary sanctuary: the expansive walk-in pantry.
Unbeknownst to me, Alastor had stealthily trailed behind as I ventured into the pantry, the shadows of the dimly lit space concealing his presence until it was too late. Abruptly, the room plunged into darkness, leaving me disoriented and vulnerable, my senses heightened by the sudden shift in surroundings.
Before I could react, a force pressed against me, pinning my body against the solid barrier of the closed door. A startled gasp escaped my lips, cut short by the sound of Alastor's voice, a soft murmur in the oppressive silence. "Shh, my dear," he whispered, his words a velvet caress against the canvas of fear that threatened to engulf me.
In the darkness, I felt the weight of Alastor's presence, his left hand securing both of mine above my head with a firmness that bordered on possessive, while his right hand encircled my waist, holding me in a grip that left no room for escape. Panic surged within me, mingling with a simmering anger as I struggled against his hold, the air thick with tension and unspoken words.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Alastor?" I demanded, my voice trembling with a mixture of fear and indignation. "You know I hate when you sneak up on me."
A palpable silence hung between us, broken only by the steady rhythm of our breathing. Then, without warning, Alastor spoke, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine. "This," he declared, his words laden with intent.
Before I could comprehend his meaning, his lips descended upon mine, a sudden onslaught of warmth and desire that sent shock waves reverberating through my body. The weight of his embrace pressed me further against the door, a silent declaration of his dominance that left me reeling in its wake.
As abruptly as it began, the kiss ended, leaving me breathless and bewildered in its aftermath. With a whispered promise lingering in the air, Alastor withdrew, his form melting into the darkness as he retreated back into the living room, a haunting melody trailing in his wake.
Left alone in the pantry, my thoughts spun in a tumultuous whirlwind of confusion and disbelief. In that fleeting moment of passion, the boundaries between us had blurred, leaving me grappling with emotions too complex to unravel in the solitude of the darkened room.
(810 words Yay! Probably the most spice you'll ever get from Alastor unless he's comfortable in the future.)
YOU ARE READING
The Deer and the Wolf (Alastor X Male Reader)
FanfictionY/N is a 18 year old Boy who was raised by his adoptive father, Lumine, of which is rather abusive...Among other things. Y/N, who enjoys a bit of antiquing and that of the modern-day style one day, ends up finding himself buying that of an old radi...
