ALEX TURNER IMAGINES

Quiet, love

Warnings: dad/husband!al, softdom!al, fingering and oral (f rec), unprotected sex, praising

*

You and Alex are nestled in bed, propped up against soft white pillows, each with a book in hand. The bedroom is wrapped in silence, broken only by the gentle rustle of sheets or the soft flick of a turning page. The kids have long been tucked in, likely dreaming of dinosaurs, sparkly bracelets—or both.

It's peaceful. Quiet.

You're reading one of your newer books—a rather steamy romantasy—and it's doing anything but helping you unwind after the long day you've had. If anything, the scene you've landed on is stirring your imagination in all the wrong (or right) directions. Sleep feels far off. You shift beneath the duvet, legs brushing, hips adjusting, trying to get comfortable. But the heat building in your belly makes it hard to stay still. These pages have you fidgety, restless... and very aware of Alex lying beside you.

He glances over the top of his book as you shift beside him for the third time in as many minutes. You have your knees drawn up slightly, facing him, your hand flipping a page with slightly more force than necessary.

He raises aneyebrow. "You alright over there?"

You don't look upright away. He doesn't have to know everything. "Mhm," you reply, too quickly, voice high and innocent.

That only makes him lower his book completely. "Sure?"

You give a small smile, the kind that doesn't quite reach your eyes, and turn another page. But your bare toes find his leg under the duvet, brushing gently along his calf, and you're biting your lip in that way that always gives you away.

He watches you for abeat longer, then asks, "What're you reading?"

You finally look up."Just a book."

He smirks. "That kind of book?"

In return, you huff a little, tucking the novel face-down on the nightstand. "It's not just that kind of book."

Alex sets his book aside too, amused. "Right. But you've gone all fidgety and red-cheeked, sweetheart."

You shoot him a mock glare but edge closer, your head resting on his shoulder. The feeling stirred by the scent of his musky cologne isn't unwelcome."It's not my fault the male lead is a fantasy warlord with fangs and no shirt."

Alex gives a low chuckle, sliding his arm around your waist. "So that's what gets you, is it?"

"I didn't say that." You kiss his jaw, then his cheek, "though the no shirt bit helps."

He turns his head slightly, your noses almost brushing. "You'd rather cuddle your fanged warlord tonight then?"

"Tempting," you murmur, your lips ghosting over his. "But I've got someone better."

"Oh yeah?" he murmurs, returning your kiss with slow, deliberate intent, then pulls back to take in the look on your face.

You kiss him again—deeper this time—your hand sliding under his sleep shirt, your legs tangling with his under the covers. He feels you melt against him as he rolls onto his side, shifting so your bodies align, one large hand cupping your hip.

"Looks like your book's going to have to wait," he murmurs against your mouth, lips brushing softly.

You grin, breathwarm against his skin. "I was hoping you'd say that."

Alex lets out a low sound of approval as your smile curves against his lips—soft and warm and teasing. You're already giggling when he kisses you again, his hand trailing down the side of your body beneath the duvet.