Chapter Text
"Ya know, one day I wanna have a place of my own."
Lucille looks away from the lipstick-smudged glass of the vanity mirror in front of her, focusing now on Mimzy where she lays across her bed splayed out similarly to a messily discarded scarf in her comfort. "A... Place?"
"A speakeasy," she clarifies, then her expression turns almost wistful as she sits up and motions around her bedroom vaguely. "Once all'a this prohibition hokum is over and done with! Just, ah-... Not as rundown as the one I currently work at."
The old hotel-turned-speakeasy that Mimzy had introduced her to two months ago was well past being only "rundown" if they were honest, with its moth eaten curtains, decades worth of dust covered furniture, rampant pest problem, worn-down carpeting, and broken fixtures. With the lights down in the middle of the night when it was at its busiest hardly anyone paid those details any nevermind however, so it took a sober mind to even notice half the problems it had in the first place. With gin in your system and dancing on your mind, it was easy to overlook or even completely ignore altogether, but there was still a fair chance that one wrong step might send you falling through the floor.
"I didn't know you had dreams of bein' a business owner."
Mimzy snorts a soft laugh under her breath, gently begining to trace the worn patterns in her comforter with a thoughtful finger as she gives the statement a small shrug. "I figure if endin' up a Hollywoodland star doesn't work out, I would be happy enough with dancin' the night away with a sheik on my arm for the rest of my days... Or, at least until my feet don't hop like they used to anymore. Whichever comes first."
Lucille hums in agreement, taking this moment now to look around Mimzy's second floor flat in curiosity. The living area and her bedroom were one and the same, the latter area divided from view of the door by a pretty wooden privacy screen beside her bed that was covered in sparkly dresses and tasseled scarves; some of which Lucille had seen on the blonde before. The little kitchenette in the corner was neat and tidy save for a few stacked dishes in the sink and a half-drunk cup of coffee that was still steaming on the countertop which had probably been abandoned when Lucille's knock on the door signaled her arrival. The space was fairly cozy overall, with the smell of Mimzy's signature perfume lingering in the air of the warmly lit room intermixing with the smell of fresh coffee.
This was actually the first time that Lucille had been inside of her friend's home; a first that was only occuring due to a phone call that had been made to her roughly half an hour ago. Mimzy, who was currently clad in a smock dress and burgundy kitten heels that had seen many a late night out on the dancefloor, had given her a ring while she was visiting her mother. It had been a "stroke of luck" kind of call, as she had given Mimzy her mother's number to call if she was looking for her since it would have been suspicious to give her the same number for both her and Alastor the day that she had asked for them. It was yet another small thing that their ongoing façade required as they kept their marriage a secret, and one that grew increasingly harder to hide each time any giggle water found it's way into their respective systems.
"...Speaking of a sheik," Mimzy mumbles then, looking up at Lucille now to catch her gaze from where it had begun to wander around the room. "I called you over because I need some advice." Then, at Lucille's quirked eyebrow, Mimzy simply sighs and twirls a half-hearted hand in the air. "I think I'm finally ready to give the whole datin' thing another try. I ain't had a man on my arm since before I scurried here from the Big Apple, and these Louisiana men are.... much different, from the eggs up there that I'm used to."
A soft laugh bubbles from Lucille's lips, turning the set of her mouth amused as she leans her elbow against the vanity's surface to rest her cheek against her hand for support, "Are they now?"
"Very."
"I figure you already have a certain sheik on your mind if you're askin' this." The statement is playful, but it's solidly confirmed true by the cherry red color that Mimzy's cheeks turn when she registers it. "I'm not gonna pry of course, but... If you want to talk about-"
A loud, frustrated sound between a grunt and a groan slips from the blonde's lips as she falls back down onto her bed, her lips twisting into a pout of displeasure once she settles. "I asked him to come over weeks ago and he still ain't given me an answer!" She huffs. "No call or nothin'! Just silence."
"Well... Has he ever given you signs that he was interested?"
A raspberry is the first response she gets before exasperated hand motions start up from the bed. "No...? Maybe...? I mean- I'm not the best at readin' men or really even talkin' to them, so I was already takin' a chance by inviting him over in the first place. He could've turned me down flat then, but I do mess up all'a my words around him so maybe he didn't understand-"
"Why don't you try writing him a letter then?"
Silence.
"A letter?"
"Yeah, somethin' handwritten and from the heart since you have a hard time talking to them."
Mimzy is silent for a few more beats before she sits up; contemplation heavy on her face as she mulls over the idea. "A letter, huh?... Hm, yeah... Yeah, I could do a letter." With this, she pops up to her feet and walks across the room to her living room table, pulling open a drawer from beneath it to rummage through its contents. After a few minutes pass, she manages to find a piece of paper and something to write with and begins to compose her letter. This process consists of several thoughtful pauses, questions on how to spell a few words, and long moments of a scrunched brow, but eventually she hums in satisfaction and folds it up so she can write something across it's outside. "There we go! A letter. Thanks, Lucy. You're a doll!"
"Of course, Mims. Anytime." With this, Lucille rises to her feet and walks over to give the small blonde a hug. "If that's all then I won't hold you. I have to head over to the Bechard's to help Genevieve with a-"
"Oh! You're goin' over to Alastor's?" And without even giving Lucille a moment to respond, Mimzy pushes her letter into her hands with as bashful of an expression as she could allow to show on her face. "Could ya do me one last fa'vah and give 'im this for me then? Just don't open it, I beg you. I hope you don't mind, but I understand if it's awkward since-"
A muffled roaring growing in Lucille's ears begins to drown out Mimzy's words as she nervously rambles on, the material of the paper like fire in her palms.
...Mimzy was sweet on Alastor.
Not some random Joe that Lucille has never met.
Not one of the faceless eggs that danced with Mimzy at the speakeasies when she allowed it.
Alastor.
Her Alastor.
How fucking blind was she-
"Lucy?"
Blinking away the black spots that had begun to cloud her vision as she stared unblinkingly down at Alastor's name on the front of the letter, an almost too-tight smile forces it's way onto Lucille's face as she gives stiff nod. "Of course. I... I'll hand it to him when I see him!"
"Are ya sure? You don't have-"
"No," Lucille replies, aiming for nonchalance, but missing by a few degrees and coming out sounding strained even to her own ears. Clearing her throat, she gently takes the note completely from Mimzy's hands and tucks it into her purse that hangs at her hip, forcing herself to soften her smile to something more acceptable. "It's berries. I don't mind, it's no trouble at all."
Mimzy's green eyes study her face for a moment before she gives a nervous laugh of relief, relaxing back as she hugs her arms around herself now. "Thanks. I would do it myself if I had tha' guts to. I really do appreciate it."
Lucille gives one last nod before making a beeline for the door, grasping and turning the knob to let herself out before the mask she had so hurried thrown on completely shatters. The note now sitting in her bag felt like a bomb; ticking down steadily until it ran out of time and destroyed everything and everyone around it.
"Oh! And Lucy?"
Clammy air hits Lucille's face as she pulls the door open, but she forces herself to suck in a breath of freedom before the rising panic drowns her completely. Gripping on to the crumbling pieces of her mask, she turns around and manages a shaky smile, "Yes?"
Mimzy sheepishly tucks a blonde ringlet behind her ear and shrugs a shoulder, "If he and I do end up gettin' togeth'a somehow, I hope it won't be awkward for you or anything since he was your friend first. I promise we won't make ya feel like a third wheel."
"Thanks."
She can't get to her car fast enough; flinging her purse into the passenger seat and slamming the door behind her to pull off like she was being chased again. She felt so stupid that she could scream.
Of course Mimzy was sweet on Alastor. Even with being as anti-men as she often was it shouldn't have been a surprise that that would change after spending some time with him. It happened to her years ago despite being the same way, so why would she assume that Mimzy was any different?
Stupid, stupid, stupid!
And for Mimzy to admit that she had already asked him out before?
She felt sick to her goddamn stomach.
Forcing down a wave of nausea at a stoplight once she gets several streets away, Lucille's eyes flick over to her purse where it rests on the seat beside her; partially open now from how it had hit the seat when she tossed it. The neat script on its front peeks up at her from the opening, revealing only the "Ala" in her husband's name, and it's enough to make her stomach lurch again as she puts her foot back on the gas.
She was itching to read it. So much so that she almost pulls over several times to unfold it and devour the contents inside. However, she forces herself to get home first before she does so, managing to only pull into the covered car port before she pulls the keys from the ignition and practically rips the letter from the bag; unfolding it in a flurry of movement to lay her eyes upon the content inside.
"Dear Alastor,
I hope I didn't scare you off by inviting you back to my place over a few weeks ago. Maybe it was too sudden, or maybe I caught you off guard, but it was hard to really articulate my words that night because of the drinks I'd had and I apologize if I was too rash. The thing is, I have feelings for you. I like you more than I've liked anyone in a long time. I know you're probably still in mourning after losing your wife and all though, so I understand if that makes it hard to let someone else in again, but I would like it a lot if you would at least consider the idea of me if you ever do warm up to thought of being with someone else. I really enjoy spending time with you and I hope that you feel the same. This is the first time in a long time that I've felt like a man doesn't only want to be around me for all the wrong reasons, and I think I would like to see where things could go from here. Hopefully you would be interested in trying? My invitation is still on the table, and you know where to find me. Give me a ring maybe, or even come by? Don't be a stranger.
- Mimzy
Folding the letter back up as calmly as possible, Lucille tucks it into her coat pocket and takes a deep breathe in an attempt to steady herself. There was no way in either Hell or Heaven above that she was giving Alastor this letter; harmless or not. Maybe Mimzy would eventually move on if he never replied to it, and eventually find someone else who made her feel similarly or stronger. With the tour coming up there would be distance and time added to assist in making the sting pass more easily while they were away, and by the time she and Alastor arrived back home maybe Mimzy will have found that sheik of hers, making this whole thing a situation they can laugh off one day.
...She hoped.
The sound of gentle chatter flows into the living room from the kitchen as Lucille's mother and Genevieve begin storing away the leftovers of the dinner that they had made for the four of them. As always, Sunday nights were family nights, where they would get together and make a meal to enjoy; who's turn it was to cook changing from person to person each time that the week ended. It was nice; having family together around the dinner table to talk about their week and how things had been without any fear. From the way that Genevieve and Alastor had explained it in a rare moment of recounting their pasts, family dinners during his childhood had been tense, silent affairs that very easily could have flipped to violence if something displeased his father. An off taste, a side glance that appeared to be pointed, or the scraping of teeth against a fork had been reason enough for him back then, and Lucille found herself thanking the stars that he had been done away with when he had... Despite the way that it had happened remaining an unspoken secret that the three of them carried.
In all honestly however, Lucille wasn't even sure if Genevieve truly knew, or if it was that she just never spoke of it because she didn't want the finality of a confirmation.
In the more pleasant present however, she looks down to where Allora sleeps soundly in her lap, her tiny bi-colored body gently rumbling as she purrs in her sleep at the feeling of Lucille's fingertips gently scratching the top of her fuzzy head. Her small belly was round and full from the small pieces of meat that had been set aside for her to enjoy, something that was made amusing by the meerkat stance she would take whenever she saw one being offered to her. She had taken to being a house cat like a fish to water, now donning a brand new collar with a shiny name tag that reflected the flickering light of the fireplace beside them. After hiding for the first three days of being inside, Allora had eventually waddled up to Lucille in the kitchen to meow for a piece of the chicken that she had been cooking, having waited until the house was empty save for her to do so. From that point on she had been nearly always attached to Lucille, very quickly becoming a lap cat in the last week.
What was more surprising was the fact that she had even taken to Alastor as well; making it a habit to curl up against his feet when they laid down in bed for the night. At first he had seemed irritated by it, but she knew he secretly had come to somewhat enjoy it as time passed; even allowing her to curl up next to his feet or at his side on the bench whenever he sat at the piano to play. Currently, the gentle melody he plays flows from the piano in the corner to intermingle with the murmurs from the kitchen, flowing from song to song as they finally settle down for the night. It was a sweet ending to an otherwise distressing day, but even thinking about what had caused it to turn sour was enough to flare the anxiety smoldering inside of her.
The moment she had gotten into the house, she'd thrown her coat on the door rack and made a beeline to her bedroom to shove her purse into the back of her closet, concealing it with the multicolored hems of her dresses that hung from above. A wave of guilt had momentarily consumed her as she'd done so, but she hadn't even been given time to sit with it and truly think through what she was doing before Alastor had arrived home from a meeting with Lenny down at the station. The sound of the bedroom door opening had sent her springing up from the floor like a guilty jack-in-the-box, forcing her to play off her presence in the closet as her simply changing out of her day clothes and into something more comfortable when he'd peeked in to see what she was up to.
Stars, she hated feeling like this.
The anxiety that she harbored from having to make up little consistent lies to cover her tracks was never something that she enjoyed, and this damned letter was just one more lie that she didn't need.
"I'm going to get ready to settle down for the evening."
Alastor glances up at her, his fingers never faltering on the keys as he gives her a look of surprise, "So early?"
With a shrug, Lucille carefully scoops Allora up into her arms and climbs to her feet, giving Alastor an easy smile once she's righted. "Today was a long day, and I think it would be berries if I made the rest of the night a self-care kind of night before we have to be up bright and early to get to the station tomorrow," she explains. With the newest murder at the Item's building, Alastor's vim had returned tenfold as he discussed every single of the murder covered in every paper he could get his hands on. The little phone in their booth had begun to ring off the hook the afternoon following Drusiano's murder, leaving Lucille to take call after call in order to repeat back to Alastor that many knew it was just a matter of time before the killer became active again, proving the Alastor's state of upset over that "damning" article hadn't truly fully backed by reality.
It was almost as if she'd told him that.
Walking over to press a kiss to the top of his head, Lucille nods in the direction of the hallway beyond the living room. "You know, if you ever want to join me in the shower, there's always space for two..."
"Oh? Is there now?"
"Mmhm, a lot of space actually. Company to fill it would be welcome."
Alastor chuckles, halting the music as he reaches out to snag Lucille by her hips and pull her closer. "I could be persuaded," he hums. "Did your long day make you unbearably tired? Or is there a... reserve of energy perhaps, that you're keeping tucked away for some particular reason?"
Leaning down to press her next kiss to the tip of his nose, the target misses as Alastor tilts his face upward to snag her lips with his. She hums in surprise before breaking the contact with a laugh, "Hopeful, aren't we?"
"Always."
Turning on her heels, Lucille crosses the room to place Allora in one of her small beds before peeking her head into the kitchen to tell their mothers goodnight, but when she turns back to Alastor, she finds that he's actually patiently awaiting an answer. Snorting softly, she crooks a finger at him to draw him up from the piano bench and over to where she stands, rolling her eyes playfully as the small summons lights up his entire face. She leans back against the wall as he reaches her, stretching her hand out to catch his tie and tug him closer so that they disappear from view of the kitchen. She presses a quick kiss to his lips that he chases after when she draws back, but a raised finger to his lips halts him so that she can speak. "I think," she murmurs, peering up at him through her lashes as his hands quickly find a firm grip on her waist. "That I might still have some energy leftover from today... If you have an idea of how to put it to good use?"
The sound that rumbles in Alastor's throat hinders on a growl as he pulls her flush against him, sending shivers up her spine as he ducks his head down to brush his lips against her ear as he speaks. "I have been waiting to get my hands on you all day, so believe me when I tell you that I have no shortage of ideas on how to put that energy to 'good use'," he replies, restraint turning his voice husky enough to knock directly into her stomach. "So many, in fact, that I made sure to save room for dessert just in case we found the time to fully satiate that hunger."
Bless.
Lucille wraps his tie around her fist and pulls, once again capturing his lips with hers as he comes down to meet them. This kiss is by no means quick or chaste as the last kiss had been; heated just as hot by his nearly growled words as the responding warmth pooling in her core was; as hot as the ache flaring to life between her thighs that forces lips to give way to tongues and knocked teeth. It's only a burst of laughter from the kitchen beyond that manages to jerk them apart; a rather jarring reminder that they were still, in fact, out in the open and easily discoverable if anyone were to peek out.
"...A shower it is, then," Alastor rasps, taking a quick glance to the side before reaching down between them to adjust himself; much to his visible embarrassment and Lucille's amusement. "And quickly."
Lucille slips from beneath him and heads off towards the foyer, turning only to give him a slow onceover when she snags her coat from by the door to toss to him. "Cover up," she giggles. "And come on then."
He captured the coat from the air and hangs it over his arm, pausing only to wish their mothers a goodnight as well before turning his attention back to her. The heat burning heavy in his gaze is enough to send her spinning towards the hallway, spurred on further by the sound of his footsteps coming to follow her as she leaves the foyer.
And then as they get closer, they... Abruptly stop?
"...Lucille...? What is this?"
Turning back with a laugh on her lips, expecting some kind of cheeky joke, she looks up at the curious expression on her husband's face before dropping her gaze to his hands when she realizes that he's looking down instead of at her, "What is wha-..."
And that's when she sees the letter that he holds.
That letter, with Alastor's name written across the front in a painful familiar script.
....She had forgotten that she'd shoved it into her coat pocket in her rush to get inside, and not in the purse that she had so hurriedly buried in the depths of her closet to keep out of sight.
She'd slipped up.
Darting forward before he can unfold it, she quickly plucks the paper from his hands and takes a large step back as she shoves it into her dress pocket. "Nothing," she covers quickly. "It's nothing."
Alastor's eyes drop down to her pocket, lingering there for a beat before lifting back up to her face, "'Nothing' you say, and yet it was my name that was scrawled across its front."
"No it isn't."
"...Dearest, it's needless to say that 28 years is long enough to have had this name that I would be able to recognize it when I see it."
With a nervous laugh, she waves a dismissive hand and takes another step back, watching as his eyes drop to follow the small movement before locking back onto her face. "It's nothing important, I meant to say," she laughs. "As in it's nothing to worry about."
"....You are a terrible liar, mon ange."
A step of his feet forward is matched by an equal step back of her own, and at this his eyebrows raise ever so slightly in surprise; a small change that shifts his expression from playful to suspicious in an instant. "...Lucille."
"Alastor."
He barks a short laugh of disbelief, "Are you truly not going to give that back to me?"
Another beat of silence pauses and Lucille's skin begins to prickle as she watches it quickly dawn on him that she was truly not going to do that, and that in fact, she was determined not to.
Now, she had two options. Either she could give Alastor the letter and admit that she had been attempting to hide it from him,
Or....
The thought hardly has the time to truly form within her mind before Lucille spins on her heels and shoots off around the corner towards the kitchen, flight kicking in over reason as she leaves Alastor behind in shocked silence. She knew it was childish, and she knew that he would eventually catch her, but maybe she would be able to get rid of the letter before he could-
The sound of a single, heavy footstep hardly a foot behind hers makes every hair on the back of her neck stand up, and an involuntary squeak pulls itself from her lips as the sensation of reaching fingers grazes the back of her dress. Practically diving into the kitchen, Lucille rounds the table and spins around just as Alastor reaches the opposite side of it, a grin on his face that very nearly matches the one he housed whenever he spoke of his kills. The similarity is enough to send a chill up her spine. She had made the damning mistake of starting a chase.
When their eyes lock, another laugh of disbelief bubbles out from between his parted lips, "...You just ran from me, cher."
"....I did."
"...But why?"
Why?
In truth, even she wasn't sure.
Maybe she wasn't ready to accept that their group friendship was likely ruined due to this revelation, and if Alastor saw the letter, it would change more than she wanted to accept before she was ready to accept it.
...or maybe, the feeling that reading that letter gave her was something that hit far too close to home for her liking.
Rolling her lips together, Lucille hums in distress, casting a quick glance over towards their mothers where they stand at the counter watching the interaction with eyes reflecting a mix of confusion and amusement. They had both just told them goodnight, and now here the two of them were, running around the house like a cat after a mouse. It was silly. She knew it was silly. But as Lucille casts this place over to their mothers, that brief fraction of a second when her eyes leave his is when Alastor rounds the table in a flash of movement, surprising a scream out of Lucille as she narrowly dodges his grasp yet again. She plants herself evenly across from him when she escapes, violently derailing her train of thought as she grips the tablecloth in her hands for dear life as if that would help her situation any.
"What on earth are you two doing?"
"Reverting back to children and cutting a fool in my kitchen is what it looks like."
Lucille's body instinctively jerks to the side as Alastor shifts his weight towards her when the question momentarily snags her attention again, and in response his head tilts to the side curiously, causing an amused tilt to quirk up his grin and fuel the look in his eyes.
"You can't outrun me."
This was true. However, she could probably outmaneuver him if she caught him off guard. This house wasn't big enough to evade him for long, but there were plenty of hiding spots if she could put some space between them.
Biting her lip, she glances towards the living room, planning a potential escape route and a place that she could toss the letter before he rounded the corner and saw her doing so. She could feign left, and then run back the way they came, to throw him off, but that also ran the risk of getting caught in the foyer. Maybe instead she could-
A deep chuckle interrupts her thoughts, raising her attention back to the borderline smug look that's now taken it's place on Alastor's face. "There is no route that you could possibly take through this house where I won't catch you," he hums, reading her plans right from her face as easily as if she had said them aloud. "You're playing a game you can't win, so make it easier on yourself and just hand it over."
Lucille hesitates for a moment as indecision locks her knees, but then she feigns left as she planned before darts off towards the living room, her socked feet nearly slipping on the hardwood floor to send her falling over the back of the couch as she uses the door frame to sling herself forward. She hears a laugh echo from the kitchen before the sound of footsteps follow right behind her, but ignoring that feeling that Alastor was once again right behind her, she loops through the next doorway and runs down the hallway towards their bedroom, intent on getting inside and slamming the door behind her to keep him out.
And she almost makes it.
Alastor manages to wedge himself between the door before she can shut it at the last second, resulting in another scream of near fear as she runs around the side of the bed to put space between them...
And effectively traps herself in the corner.
...Like an absolute idiot.
Alastor shuts the door behind him as he enters the room, cutting them off from the rest of the house in that one quick movement and immediately burning down her chances of escape. When he turns to face her again his eyes are still alight with a mixture of excitement and disbelief, but now a darker, underlying heaviness that makes her nerves quiver low in her belly is evident beneath the two. "You have two options," he nearly sing-songs. "Either you hand it over, or you go out of the window behind you in your next attempt to escape me seeing as how I stand between you and your only other possible exit. The choice is yours."
Lucille bites her lip and hums in frustration as she glances around the room. These did seem to be her only options, and neither of them appealed to her. She didn't want him to see the letter, but going out the window was a touch too dramatic even for her. There was little to no chance that their mothers would come to her rescue, and this is dropped to a definite 0% chance when she hears the side door open and close in the distance, and with it and accompanying silence that translated that she was on her own.
Suddenly, Alastor rounds the side of the bed in a flash of movement so quick that she hardly registers it. Due to this, her next attempt to climb over the bed and jump off of it to get to the door fails as he locks his arm around her waist, tanking her backwards and down onto the bed in one swift movement as if he had anticipated the desperate escape.
Reverting now to mindless flailing, Lucille does all she can to free herself; squirming, pushing, and damn near kicking like a trapped animal to get free to the point that she accidentally bows Alastor in the gut in the process and knocks his glasses from his face. Her next attempts at freedom are promptly halted as he pins her arms to the bed up beside her head, wedging his knee firmly between her thighs to avoid crushing her when he leans his weight down to keep her pinned in.
And this effectively stops her flailing; shutting her mind off like a turned radio dial.
Despite Lucille's breathless and near exhausted state from her panicked running -and subsequently from the placement of his knee-, the only sign that Alastor had been after her was the slightly quickened rise and fall of his chest as he looms over her; his hands tight around her wrists as he pushes them down into the plush blanket beneath her body. He hardly has even a hair out of place, unruffled in his entirety as he watches the fight finally drain out of her.
He made the perfect predator; Allowing her to tire herself out before he sprung in for the kill.
Once he sees that she's finally given up, he gives a soft hmph, "Are you done now?"
She manages a tiny nod.
Blowing out a breath through his nose, he transfers possession of her left wrist to the grasp of his hand that holds her right, securing them both firmly above her head as he reaches down to pull the now crumpled letter from her pocket. Flipping it open with deft fingers, he holds it up to read it in what little late afternoon light still filters in through their curtains, ignoring the small whine of protest that this summons from her.
"Alastor-"
"Hush."
His expression is nearly unreadable as he absorbs the contents of the letter, with the only visible change being the smallest of twitches at the corner of his left eye about halfway through it. His eyes drop lower and lower on the page, growing the anxiety in her gut as he does so, but once he finally finishes it, he simply lays it beside her on the bed and trains his eyes back on her face once again.
"Lucy."
"....Yes?..."
Alastor shifts his weight as he leans back down, pressing his knee further up between her thighs in the process to elicit the tiniest of grunts from her throat. "You ran from me because Mimzy wrote me a letter expressing her affections?" He asks lightly. "Almost as if it would be any different from the hundreds of similar letters that I have received during the radio show's tenure?"
Silently rolling her lips together in lieu of giving a response, Lucille cheeks begin to burn with embarrassment.
Stupid.
"As if," Alastor continues. "Me reading this would actually change something."
This, too, is met with ashamed silence.
Barking a soft laugh, Alastor shakes his head. "Though I will admit that I enjoyed chasing you down, if you're going to go and run from me again you should make sure that it's for a good reason and that you're equally prepared to face the consequences that will result from it."
"...What-?... What consequ-"
Without even the smallest of warnings, Alastor's free hand drops to hike her dress up and free her thighs completely from its cover, baring them to the light chill of their bedroom's air. "Not only did you run from me, ma bichette, but you attempted to hide something from me in the process, too," he murmurs, taking advantage of the falter in her speech. "Both resulting from the discovery that someone close to us had developed feelings for me."
Squirming now, but unable to budge from the hold that Alastor had on her wrists, she can only whimper as he begins to gently tug the thin cotton of her panties down off of her hips, baring her fully now as he lifts his knee momentarily to pull them down past hers. "I was just-"
"Just what?" He murmurs, rubbing his hand up the bared skin of her thigh to leave a trail of goosebumps in its wake. "I assure you there was a much better way of bringing up your concerns to me had you simply given me the letter upon my return home, but instead for some unfathomable reason, you did not. Which leaves me inclined to believe that you felt as if there was a threat of some sort... And we can't have that, now can we?"
Lucille's words dry up on her tongue as two slow fingers push into her, causing her hips to buck instinctively against the dizzying intrusion. "I-I didn't-!", but her words are once again snatched away; this time by the pressure of his thumb pushing against her already swollen clit, causing a jolt of pleasure that tightens her around the two digits that have already settled comfortably within her.
"You didn't?" Feigned surprise colors his features, but it's hardly able to scribble out the true heat beneath it. "So you mean to tell me that you hid this letter away simply for the fun of it? That you ran from me just to do so, and without a single fear in your mind?"
"I-... I don't-"
"If you needed reassurance of my loyalty to you, all you needed to do was ask," he continues without real pause, withdrawing his fingers from inside of her to examine the shiny digits under the dim light before turning his gaze back down to her. "As there is not, and never shall there ever be, a single force that exists within this entire universe that could take me away from you."
These words cause a flood of heat to pool between her thighs, aided ever more by the sight of his hand lifting to his lips to allow his tongue to slip between his fingers and suck every trace of her shine from their surface. Rendered effectively speechless, she can only squirm as he cleans his fingers before redirecting his attention to his belt to unbuckle it with a slowness that's nearly painful.
Alastor tsks before sighing in disappointment, leaving his belt to hang undone as his fingers move to the straining fabric beneath it; tracing the heavy outline of his arousal as it fights against the zipper for relief from it's constraints. "And after all this time I thought you would have known better," he muses, popping his trouser button free to allow him to tug them down off of his hips, hissing with relief as his erection finally springs free when the action takes his boxers down with them. When his gaze meets hers again the longing in it from before has only grown in intensity despite the attempt at feigned indifference that he wears upon his face. "Or perhaps it's simply been too long since I last proved that to you? And if so, then allow me to-" His free hand grips her thigh to tug her downward and hike it up over his hip, pulling her ass to dangle slightly off the side of the bed as he leans in closer to push the head of his erection against the slickness between her thighs. "-thoroughly remind you."
Lucille bites down on her lip in a failed attempt to suppress a moan as Alastor pushes his hips forward, holding her thighs firmly apart as he slowly fills her inch by inch, stretching her open until he's sitting fully within her. The deep responding groan of pleasure that tumbles from his lips knocks into her stomach, punctuated by an involuntary thrust that pushes the weeping head of his cock against her cervix. The sudden intense pressure makes her squirm, but Alastor's grip on her thigh tightens to keep her from moving back, drawing her blurring gaze back up to his face.
-And oh, what a sight.
Nearly all signs of Alastor's earlier composure are gone, erased almost completely by the wet heat that he had buried himself within between her thighs. Dark curls fall loose across his forehead and temples, framing eyes with pupils blown so wide with lust and pure need that it nearly sucks her breath away. Stars above, he was beautiful. His grip on her wrists tightens fractionally for a moment as he visibly fights to regain his composure, but when Lucille shifts her hips down, a shared gasp of ecstacy easily shatters his faltering restraint.
Lucille's wrists are released in an instant as his hand quickly relinquishes its hold, giving her a reprieve for only a single breath before he places them beneath her thighs to push them up; gripping right above the backs of her knees to pin her legs apart beneath him, splaying her open for his hungry gaze to immediately descend upon and devour. Scrambling for a hold on the blanket above her head, Lucille fails again to stifle a cry of pleasure as he withdraws almost completely, only for his hips to roughly thrust back into her in one fluid motion hardly a second later to bury himself within her once again. "W-We have to be qui-", but another rough thrust tears the concern from her mouth before she can finish, turning their coherency into nothing more than a choked scramble as he reclaims her.
Leaning in so close that they're practically nose to nose now, Alastor's voice drops to a purr as he meets her eyes, "Then hold a pillow over your mouth if you must to quiet yourself and Take. It-" His words end in a hiss at the responding clench of her throbbing cunt around his cock, drawing him in deeper as she slaps a hand over her mouth to suppress her next whimper. "Good girl."
Lucille arches her back as Alastor's thrusts begin to pick up, the delicious friction as he drags himself in and out of her drawing swears and breathless renditions of his name from her lips in spite of the hand attempting to muffle them. Her eyes nearly roll back as he mindlessly ruts into her, met in equal fervor by the rocking of her hips downward in her desperation, but she forces herself to keep her eyes on him- Only ever on him.
"You're so beautiful," he croons. "My angel. My muse. La perfection pleure de jalousie en vous voyant. I adore you."
Reaching up, she draws his face into her hands to pull it down to meet hers; crashing their lips together in a kiss more bruising than it was gentle. The next moan that fights to leave her lips is immediately swallowed up as he parts them with his own, the lingering taste of the wine they'd shared at dinner sweet on his tongue as it meets hers. The mixture was dizzying; as intoxicating as drinking straight from the source. She was unraveling faster than she could vocalize it, managing to only let out a small whine of need into the kiss before her fingers slip from his face and into his hair, tangling in his dark curls as her end wracks through her body.
"That's it," he coos breathlessly, nipping at her bottom lip as she falls apart around him. "That's my girl. Come for me-"
Her next cry of release intermingles with his as he finds his own end inside of her, the messy thrusting of his hips stuttering as they lose any semblance of pace. His name spills from her lips like worship; a whispered desperation meant only for his ears as wave after wave of mind-numbing warmth crashes through her body.
She loved him.
Oh, how she loved him. Beyond all semblance of reason, beyond all measure.
Hot kisses placed against her throat as they come down together relax her back into their bed, her thighs slick with their shared arousal that makes her shiver as he pulls out of her. Her fingers grip at the back of his shirt to bury themselves within the fabric, clinging onto him to keep him close as her lips find his once again, and this kiss puts into action what she couldn't put into words. An apology and a confession; her love and her surrender. She had indeed forgot in a moment of fear how easily he could soothe it with reassurances both verbal and physical. The reaction had been almost visceral; a violent reminder of the last time that she'd had to contend with someone else for Alastor's attention. It had brought out the worst in her; an absolutely monstrous side that she would sooner destroy herself than see resurface again. They had been through far too much together for her to repeat her past mistakes.
This time, she would do things the right way.