Scars Of The Wicked (Alastor X Reader)

Chapter 19: The Clincher

(Warning: hot and heavy scenes. Proceed with caution.)

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(A/n: *heavy sigh* get ready y'all, because this is the ✨longest✨ chapter I've ever written. No, really, you might wanna grab a snack and get comfortable 'cause you're gonna be reading for a while. Enjoy.)
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~~Part 1: The Masks We Hide Behind~~
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The air around you felt heavy and thick, blanketing you as you rolled onto your side. Letting out a quiet whimper of fatigue as you barely acknowledged your environment, not even opening your eyes. Your head still lost in a fog, still floating somewhere between the waking world and dreamland.

Somewhere beneath the sheets you could've sworn you felt the bed shift behind you under moving weight. You half acknowledged this and went to turn around to look at the source but you felt so tired you could hardly move. Almost as though your bones were replaced with concrete.

Up your hip and along your side you felt what seemed like fingertips gently tracing up your side. Under any normal circumstances you'd have been flipping the fuck out, cussing out anyone who would have snuck into your bed and dared to touch you. And yet, you felt calm. As though this presence beside you was a familiar soul that bared no disturbance to your own peace.

"You're so warm," you heard a familiar voice whisper. "So soft and delicate, I almost can't help myself..."

Alastor?

You felt goosebumps all over your body as you barely, just barely, felt a pair of lips on the back of your neck. So sweet and so careful it was as though one wrong touch would have shattered you like glass. Without needing to say a word more his intention was clear to you.

"I'm too sleepy..." you murmured into your pillow. Hugging it close and burying your face into the cushion it provided. You could have sworn you felt his hand snake further along your side and down the front of your body. The muscles in your abdomen flexing slightly out of reflex as his fingertips grazed against it.

"That's alright, you don't have to do anything." He whispered. His warm breath on your neck sending a shudder down your spine; feeling warmth pooling within your abdomen. A sense of longing that desperately called for attention, one you haven't felt in a very long time. One that, in the moment, you didn't mind feeling.

"Tell me I'm yours..." you heard him say.

Any words you were about to utter had hitched within in your throat as his hand eased it's way just barely under the waistband of your sweatpants.

"I need this..." he whispered again. "Please, tell me that I'm yours..."

"You're mine~." You sighed.

As the words left your lips you felt his presence begin to drift away... Slowly being replaced by fully immersed consciousness. Dream or not, you could have sworn you felt his hands still on you for just a few seconds more.

The kicker was that you could only feel him. No memories, no emotions, just... him. Now I know I'm dreaming...

The more you tuned into your waking reality the little details seemed to fizzle away; the static from his touch, the lingering smell of clove, sandalwood and earthy musk you associated with him had already started fading away. No breath on your neck, no teasing caresses. Your solitude was confirmed when your heavy lidded eyes finally opened and found not a single trace of a soul anywhere.