ALAN - An Alan Rickman fanfic

Chapter 13 - Utopia

A few days earlier than expected, and a few hours later than I usually upload, but here is the new chapter! I have to say @sephine87 and I have LOVED reading all your comments so far. Your feedback means a LOT and we're so happy you're enjoying the story so far!!

Enjoy! Thank you for your votes! 

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The morning sun teases my eyes open to Alan's bedroom, bathed in the bright spring morning. A soft smile plays on my lips as I wriggle beneath the bed sheets, still purring in last night's blissful afterglow. I fell asleep last night with my naked body entwined with Alan's - arms, legs branched perfectly. My head rushed with things I daren't speak aloud as his thumb ran soothingly over my breast and I drifted away to the soothing tone of his voice

This morning however, I turn over to him, surprised when all I'm met with is crumpled sheets.

"Alan?"

No response from the ensuite bathroom, and so I reach by the bed for my little black knickers and pull my white tank top over my unruly morning curls. Last night after Alan and I had our session in the shower, followed by another in bed, I fell asleep with damp hair. I knew I'd regret it, but wasn't about to leave his bed for one moment to use a hairdryer. The only thing that was getting blown last night was him. My hair this morning springs and twists from every angle like a cartoon. I twist my unruliness into a clip blushing at how he came all over my face in the shower last night and somehow managed to make me feel beautiful for it. I'm positive it's something only he possesses - the ability to take me any which way and seduce me like pure poetry like it's the most beautiful thing in the world.

Where is he? Everything is gone - his watch, his...oh, what's this? A note. Beautiful calligraphic handwriting reads, "Back in 20 x"

Just enough time to pull myself together and make myself look presentable. I wash my face, patting it dry and realise I have absolutely nothing with me - no overnight bag - nothing. I open the bathroom cabinet thinking perhaps I can find something to slather on my face and soon wish I hadn't - bobby pins. It's indefinite - there must be someone else. The razor - though he claims it's his - the sweater in his dressing room that day on the couch - the feminine scented toiletries...

I know Alan isn't exclusively mine, it's not as if we have officially mentioned that we're dating. After all, I am his "little secret." Inside there is a determined feline that wants to snoop, to dig, to sniff out further clues. No, don't, whispers a voice, but no, I must, I want to. My gut instinct overpowers my self-control. I quietly open his wardrobe, not sure what I'm expecting to find but wanting more - at the same time wanting nothing at all. It's pristine - neatly lined suits, shirts on oak hangers - shoes, boots all nearly lining the bottom.

I close that one and open another. Crouching down in my undies and tank top next to his bedside dresser, I ignore the little voice that tells me to halt right there - this isn't like me at all, but then never have I been in this situation. I can't stop myself. One silent peek over my shoulder with no sign of him and I go for it. I slip open the draw, analysing it's contents without touching a thing. Nothing really stands out besides - what's that? I carefully pull out what looks like a small porn mag, only to see that when I flick through the pages it's actually a lingerie catalogue. Before my mind can wonder any further, I hear the apartment door close - no no no no. I shove back the magazine and speed walk into the bathroom.

"Darling..." Alan calls though in a rich timbre, "I thought I'd get us a spot of breakfast..."

His gaze lowers the second the bathroom door clicks open and he lays eyes on me in just a tank top, no bra and black lacey undies.