The door to Alastor's bedroom swung shut behind them with a knock of Alastor's heel against the hollow wood and a click of the tumbler locking into place, the sound echoing within the high walls as Alastor dropped Clover from her bridal carry. She'd hardly caught her balance before he spun her around by the hips, turning her to face the freshly made sheets with him at her back. His claws made quick work of the single button nestled at the nape of her neck, peeling back the fabric from her damp skin to lay kisses along the length of her spine.
"Is it alright if we continue?" Alastor asked as his breath blew hot across the nape of her neck.
"Odd question to ask when you're already undressing me-" Clover buckled beneath the teeth that followed after the sleeves he shifted from her shoulders, and the feeling of his length pressing heavily against the curve of her rear through his trousers hitched her already shuddering breath. "Not that I'm complaining."
"This dress is hardly fit to wear darling, even if you were to decline I would insist on getting you in clean clothes."
"I want to but-" Twisting herself in his palms, Clover rose onto her toes to press a teasing kiss to the tip of his nose. Alastor leaned into her touch, nuzzling his forehead against hers with a warm smile while he waited for her to clear her throat of its needy pitch in favor of something more stern. "We should maybe try to be a little more careful this time if you want me to be able to do anything besides lay in bed for the rest of the week."
Warm hands ran down her sides to tug her closer, his arms wrapping around her until they interlocked around the small of her waist. Alastor hummed thoughtfully into the kiss he pressed against her cheek, his thumbs tracing the curving line of her brassiere beneath her dress so lightly she squirmed away from his ticklish touch. His eyes dropped to where the rumpled neck of her dress had dipped low enough to reveal the thin satin of the undergarment and the swell of her breast spilling over, his sharp inhale pressing them further against his chest. His eyes reluctantly returned from their wandering, and Alastor's forehead bumped against hers as he sighed.
"That is far more tempting than I think you realize."
Clover snorted, and then squealed as her toes left the ground as he straightened himself back to his true height. Feet kicked behind her as Alastor kept her lifted, his smile growing wider against her lips and his chest vibrating with barely concealed laughter. Teeth gnashed as they attempted to kiss through their giggles, nipping at swollen lips until they were both rendered breathless. Alastor returned her feet to the floor to free his hands, pressing messy kisses leading down her throat to the heaving slope of her breast while she panted against his temple and rushed to pull her arms from ruffled sleeves. Her dress quickly found its way to the floor, pooling around bare feet before it was kicked aside along with her brassiere, her other undergarments lost to the mess of Alastor's studio- He could keep them there, for all she cared, but she knew him better than that.
The two fell together again as Clover's hands slipped beneath the hem of his pullover, desperate for the heat of his skin against hers, and her tiny groan of frustration at the tucked-in undershirt that stood in her way pulled Alastor's smile upward at one edge. It was torn from his waistband seconds later and her hands found the flat of his stomach, pausing to feel how the muscles grew taut beneath her palms as Alastors sucked in a sudden breath at her touch. It was released with a groan as Clover's teeth tugged at his lip, painting their lips dark as she drew blood. Warm knit gathered around her wrists as she slid her hands up further to trace the thin curve of his waist, her thumbs running gently over his scars as Alastor's fingers laced into her hair and tilted her head back to deepen their kiss.
They parted panting, their breath mixing between them as they savored their embrace, before Clover stepped back with an impatient tug to his turtleneck and teasing tilt to her head.
"Why did we even bother getting dressed in the first place?"
"Because-" Alastor grinned, seeming rather pleased with himself. "I rather enjoy dressing you up, you look so fetching in our fashions."
Alastor's sweater joined her dress as he fluidly tore it over his head, and before Clover could contemplate how the hell he was able to so easily get it off without catching it on his still-enlarged antlers when her ears became a nuisance to her vision with every sharp turn of her head, she was immediately distracted by him unfastening his pants with a confidence she'd not seen the night before. His shoes thunked against the hardwood as he kicked them off, but the second hollow sound as he returned his feet to the floor drew her attention downward; Alastor caught her before she got more than a glimpse of the fur that dusted his calves, tugging her close with knuckles curled beneath her chin and thumb caressing the corner of her mouth as he loomed over her.
"And undressing you is incredibly rewarding! Like opening a present, wrapped in paper and ribbons," Alastor hummed, his hand falling to her throat to hold her back as she leaned up onto her toes to kiss him again. "A pretty little doll, perfectly porcelain."
Clover huffed, her sternum pressing against his palm as she attempted to chase after the teasing tilt to his smile, but Alastor held her fast. His chuckling burned deep in the pit of her stomach, the offer of a challenge making her blood run hot and her fingers itch to find the upper hand. The soft hitch in his breath as his length brushed against the swell of her hip sparked a possibly perfect solution, and Clover was quick to test her theory- And to act on an urge she'd denied before now that the opportunity was presenting itself, flushed and weeping for her attention. Alastor's touch sank into the valley of her breasts as she rose onto her toes, fingers splayed wide to press into their softness- It was an ample distraction from the creeping of Clover's claws as they tip-toed up to grasp his shoulders.
"Perhaps a doll with cracks, and one broken eye that never stays open," Before he could clue into her sarcasm, Clover grasped him by the arms, spun them to switch places with a twist of her hips, and pushed him with as much might as she could manage. Alastor hit the bed with a comical "oof!" and a bounce that sprawled him flat on his back with legs akimbo- Clover gave him no time to recover as she scrambled after him to straddle his lap. "Dolls can break, Al- I think you can agree I'm far more resilient."
Alastor blinked up at her, eyes wide as she shifted her hips into a more comfortable position. The bed sunk in beneath her palms, her hair flipping into her peripherals as she leaned down to press a chaste kiss to his cheek and nuzzle her nose against his; The sharp contradiction of her sweetness to the sinful heat that sparked between them with every shift of her weight snapped him out of his stunned silence, and Clover squeaked as he sharply tugged her to lay against his chest.
"Why, that's the best part, my dear!" He said, gleefully. "Everything I give, you take with a smile and give back just as happily- And sometimes with an added twist! I couldn't have wished for a better match, then you came along and-"
The tiniest shift of her hips slid his length between her folds, and Alastor's ramblings were cut short as his breath caught in his chest.
"I fell right into your lap?" Clover bit the inside of her cheek to keep her smile at bay as she began to leisurely grind against him. "Is that what you were going to say?"
"That is a far more apt phrasing than what I had in mind."
The will to continue teasing him withered with every torturous drag of his cock against her still-sensitive nerves, but the choking groan that rumbled from deep in his chest bloomed a new sense of satisfaction that kept her clinging to the hold she had on him. Alastor's head fell back against the bed and his fingers bit into her waist, flexing as he fought against the urge to push her down onto him when the blunt, weeping head of him caught briefly on her cunt; He was stopped by the soft kisses she pressed against his chest and the breathy lilt to her voice as she whispered against his skin, hiding her smile in the hollow of his throat.
"And what was that?"
"I- Can't recall." Alastor huffed before lifting his head to peer down his nose at her. "I believe this counts as foul play, dear."
"Really?"
Planting her palms on his chest, Clover lifted herself enough to slip a hand behind her to grasp his length, stroking him shallowly just to watch his expression contort at the sudden, steady pressure of her grip before clumsily guiding him into her. Their claws carved crescent moons into the other's skin as Clover sank back slowly, her thighs shaking with every agonizing inch until he was seated fully inside of her and their skin was stained with the essence of the other. Alastor's blood smeared black beneath her fingertips as she slid them down his sternum to find her balance before reaching down to tangle their fingers together against her hip, squeezing a silent thanks when Alastor's control did not snap beneath the weight of her sitting back onto his thighs despite the visible tension pulling the muscles in his stomach taut. Through every tiny shift of her hips as she tested her tender joints he stayed still, though his expression was that of a man in torment; Heavy lids nearly fell shut over pin-point pupils, their gaze focused on where her thighs pillowed around his hips and his brow pulled together to press deep ridges into his forehead as his teeth grit against the wailing of his radio. With a steadying breath, Clover began to move with a slow roll of her hips, and it became clear quickly that neither of them would be able to draw this out as he had done in his studio- Even through the ache in her hips and the sting of sensitivity, every stroke of him as he sank back into her cunt sent sparks shooting across the webwork of nerves beneath her skin, and Clover had barely begun to find her rhythm before Alastor's hips began to meet hers halfway.
Soon enough the slick, desperate sounds of sex overtook the static bristling through the air as the two of them moved in tandem. Clover clung to control the best she could when every thrust of him up into her shook her form and every roll of her hips ground her clit against his pelvis, the oversensitive nerves guarded just enough by said softness to not push pleasure into pain; That could not be said for the way the curve of his cock drug against its other side, pressed tightly against that spongey section of flesh sitting shallowly inside of her as her thighs clenched around him. Alastor's palm laid against her stomach, his fingers dipping into its softness as he began to help guide her hips, and Clover whimpered as the added pressure pushed her pleasure to a new peak.
Below her, Alastor found himself a victim of her femininity, as he had so many times before.
This moment of rapture was truly another testament to her blossoming sense of self, from the way she'd so boldly tossed him to the mattress to the tiniest tensing of her jaw as she fought for her right to lead this dangerous dance of desire, she was a marvel to behold- But even the brightest of stars were hidden by storms, blackened by the rolling of oncoming rain and swallowed by the midday sun, only to return with the rising of a new moon. The poetic part of Alastor's mind, freshly formed by her flirtations, was unsure what part of this metaphor was meant to describe her, for she was all the wonders of the universe wrapped into one marvelous woman yet none of them seemed worthy of her; She was every constellation in the sky, the shining north star, the promise of oncoming rain, the brilliance of the setting sun, yet something so singularly, independently her that to compare her to anything seemed asinine.
The only truth that mattered in his mind at the moment was that she was his, and that was not something that could be called to question.
Now that he'd had a taste of what it was like to have her utterly at his mercy, Alastor craved it like no other- But her particular flavor was so much sweeter with a dash of desperation, when her tender flesh was flushed down to the delicate curve of her chest, when her pulse soared at the sound of his voice, when her eyes grew dreamy and her juices dripped down her thighs- Alastor would wait until the already forming cracks in her resolve caused her to crumble, and then would he break her; For now, he allowed her to use him to her pleasure, filling herself to her limit as she sank to engulf him in the molten heat at her core, so he could watch as her expression grew wanton and the swell of her breast bounced gently with every motion, hoping that soon enough she would be begging for him to take her as he pleased.
Another harsh thrust sent her tumbling forward into his chest, her arms collapsing under her weight as her body was rendered useless by the new angle that drove him deeper into her slick, swollen cunt, and Alastor grasped opportunity by its trembling hand.
Clover's frustrated whine was cut short by the curling of claws into her hair as Alastor tugged her into a messy kiss, the razor's edge of his teeth nipping at her lips as they parted with a choked cry as he began to press into her in earnest. Lazy tongues tasted the blood that pooled from between them with breathless groans and muttered curses until their mouths fell slack as ecstasy overtook them. Their bodies knit themselves together at the seams, Alastor's arm wrapping tightly around her waist to push her willing body down onto him, his knot bumping against her folds with every upward thrust and her fingers clinging desperately to the sheets on either side of wide shoulders. The heat between them grew unbearable with every brush of skin, the jagged edges of his scars pressing into her breasts and dragging against their delicate peaks as he held her to him. Clover's legs felt numb beneath the unyielding tremors as his cock drug against the raw edges of her nerves, keeping her teetering on the thin edge of overstimulation with every movement- And even then every breath that leaves her lips begged for more as her next peak appears on the horizon, painted gold with the glimmer of his eyes as they narrow with a growl that rolls down her spine and clenches her walls around him.
As suddenly as she'd shoved him to the sheets, Alastor lifted her and tossed her to the bed beside him with far more strength than she assumed he intended; It sent her rolling onto her stomach, her ears flopping over her face as she squeaked in surprise and collapsed face down into the nearest pillow. She heard Alastor's concern in his radio frequency, his static flatlining into a hollow warning tone before it peeled off into a garbled mess of music as he rushed to her side. His body blankets across her back and careful claws lift her face from his bedsheets, pulling back her hair from where it stuck to her cheeks.
"Clover?"
Her moment of stunned silence is short-lived, with barely a beat to breathe before she collapses into wheezing laughter with Alastor not far behind. Clover's giggling pulls an exceptionally ugly snort from her that is thankfully buried in the plush of scarlet silk that surrounds her as she buries her face back into the pillows. As soon as the laughter died Alastor's head lifted from where it had fallen to rest against her shoulder and he's back to worrying over her, the shadow of his ears flicking on the mattress beside her bubbling more giggles into her throat.
"If you wanted to stop you could have just said so-" Clover's sarcasm thins as his breath blows across that sweat-soaked hair at the nape of her neck, sending a fresh wave of chills to raise goosebumps across her skin, and her voice wavers as her stomach flips at the feeling of his warmth brushing against her back. "Uh- Alastor?"
"Are you alright, darling?"
Too wary of her traitorous throat and the constriction of her lungs as a fresh swell of his scent fills her senses, Clover quickly nods before her silence draws suspicions; The action is useless when the slow kisses he presses against her shoulder pulls a whine from deep within, and Alastor's lips curl into a smile against her skin.
"Good. And is this-" The blankets shift beneath his knees as they nudge her thighs apart for him to slip between, his hand curling around her hip to pull her up against him before those cursed claws slip between her legs to circle her clit and his arm braces beside her. "Alright as well?"
"Yes." Clover whines, turning her head just enough to catch him in the corner of her eye. "Just- Stay close to me, please."
More kisses trail down her spine as Alastor purrs at her plea before he sinks into her again with a guttural groan, his fingers pressing a lattice of bruises across the already marred skin of her hip as he grips onto the last shreds of sanity it takes to keep him from pressing her down into the mattress and breeding her the way she deserves- But he would not sour the sweetness in her voice as she whimpers his name with his depravity, not when she had so politely asked him to take her tenderly; Not until she asked otherwise, of course. She'd been smart before to restrict his strength by taking him from above, but now her hips pressed back against him with every languid thrust while her cunt clenched to draw him deeper, a quiet plea for more that he would not abide.
Actions may speak louder than words, but it was far more fun this way, in Alastor's opinion.
Deft fingers release their vice on her waist to slip back between her legs to toy with her fraying nerves, stroking over the swollen bud to draw the tension in her tighter; Clover squirms beneath him, unsure of whether to pull back from the stimulation or to press forward into the warmth of his palm as he switches from broad strokes to tracing her in tight circles as she hovers on the edge of oblivion. Warmth spreads like clinging ivy to curl around her limbs as he stalls his thrusts to grind against her, and her helpless cries climb in pitch as her peak draws near-
Fuck being sore, she decides, there's nothing wrong with being bedridden as long as it's his bed she's chained to.
"Alastor, please m-"
Clover had barely been able to begin begging before Alastor's hips snapped against hers so suddenly it knocked her from her forearms, denying her of the little leverage she had against him and rendering her prone. Her knees slip against silk sheets as she strains to not crush his hand beneath her weight, but the added pressure as his fingers work her relentlessly brings her to the brink of bliss as her orgasm begins. Teeth bite into the nearest surface as she screams, her body wracked with tremors as pleasure overcomes her with every thrust of his cock into her aching cunt. It does not come with the snap of a rubber band, it drags like claws against her skin and blooms red behind her eyes, and Alastor does not offer any reprieve from the rapture he'd set upon her. Both hands now grip the junctions of her thighs, pulling her back on him as he pushes deeper, his hips meeting her behind harder and faster as caution flies on the wind and his static whines alongside him. Sensation bleeds together in the blank expanse of her mind, the wet slap of sex indistinguishable from the steady thumping of the bed frame as it knocks against the wall behind it and the constant cries her rips from her throat.
"Sweet little doe, just a little longer, can you take a little more?" Alastor's voice cracks on every consonant, warped by a strange mix of radio interference and creole. His chuckle at her whimpering agreement sends a shudder through her, but then that growling, rough quality finds its way back into his voice as he traces the curve of her spine, and twists the overworn threads of her desire around his claws with a simple phrase. "Atta' girl."
The bed divots beneath their weight as Clover's knees give out beneath her, and Alastor follows after. His body cages around her, chest pressed against his back as his movements grow more desperate, and every motion grinds the curve of his cock so heavily against that oversensitive spot inside her that it knocks her breath from her lungs. Despite the ruthless onslaught of ecstasy that rips the raw edges of her sanity into shreds, Clover feels safe beneath him, protected by the sharp planes of his form as he braces himself around her and wrapped in the veil of his devotion. The feeling of his chest at her back brings forth memories of them that led up to this moment, and with it comes that familiar, fluttering warmth that forms forbidden words on her lips- Luckily her face is still pressed into his pillows to muffle her cries, otherwise she might have finally managed to say the final truth she'd not shared with him.
Every sweet kiss he presses to her shoulder stalls her heart, Alastor whispering his equal adoration against her skin as his end draws near and his movements grow more desperate. A mindless prayer of her name spills from his lips as he ruts against her so harshly the jutting points of his hips dig bruises into her behind, and Clover struggles to find room to breathe around the feeling of him filling her so completely, using the last of her energy to shift her knee upward across the sheets to allow the throbbing swell of his knot to press into her. Alastor growls against the shell of her ear at the small sign of submission, shifting his weight to wrap a hand around her throat and tilt her head back to him as he begins to find his end in her body. His knot slips easily into the slick mess he'd made of her cunt, her walls weakly clinging to his cock as she shudders against him, and Alastor's teeth sink into the soft skin of her shoulder as he spills inside her with a wounded groan.
Static and shallow breath cut through the thickness that clouds the room as the two come down from the high of unhinged intimacy; Alastor comes to his senses first, carefully cradling her head as he lays it back against the pillows and rolling them over onto their sides to wait out the aftermath of their mating more comfortably. The tiniest of whines leaves her lips as he leans away from her to conjure clean covers, and the shaking of his laughter jostles where they remain connected in a way that has them both hissing through their teeth. Clover's lucidity is wavering, her waking thoughts too focused on the warmth of his arms wrapping around her and the feeling of his lips leaving open, breathless kisses on the back of her neck to care about the stiffness in her joints or the sticky feeling between her thighs. His questions receive murmurs of affirmations, her head turning so she can press reassuring kisses to his shoulder and huff when no amount of tugging can draw his arms tighter around her, his forearm already pressed flat against her chest and his fingers entangled with hers.
It's an unspoken understanding that neither of them would be getting out of bed for the rest of the day, and neither of them seemed to mind.
The next morning, there was a proper espresso machine waiting for her in the kitchen.
Alastor had woken her in the early hours of the morning with a soft stroke of her hair, a glass of water pressing impatiently to her lips and his voice mumbling against her ear that he needed to run an errand in the Colony- Her scoffing at the early hour of his rising was short-lived once she'd recalled that fact that they'd returned to bed somewhere between lunch and the mid hours of the afternoon. Clover hadn't really listened to anything beyond that, if she were being honest, and had only offered a tiny shrug and shake of her head when he'd asked if she'd like anything before rolling back over to snuggle into the warmth he'd left behind.
The red sun had climbed well into the sky by the time she'd roused herself, and a cool breeze blew in from the open window as she shuffled her way into Alastor's bathroom. Her heart fluttered at the addition of an extra toothbrush beside his sink and the addition of a sheer, red dressing gown hanging from the back of the bathroom door. After a few painful moments of figuring out Alastor's shower- and a short struggle to get her stiff muscles to cooperate enough with her to get into it now that she didn't have her dashing heart's desire to help her- Clover quickly refreshed with a near scalding shower; The tension in her hips melted beneath the warm water, its pressure just steady enough to gently work the knots that had looped themselves around her spine, and by the time she'd finished splashing cool water from the faucet onto her face, her body was pleasantly placid and ready for the day's first cup of coffee.
The dressing gown barely brushed the tops of her knees as she made her way to the kitchen, Clover following the guiding lights as they flicked on in front of her one by one down the long hallway. Her fingers traced the top of the wall's dark wainscoting as she hummed along to the nonsense in her head, her heels lifting from the hall carpet to twirl to the made-up melody before they made contact with the cold tile.
The damp pads of her feet screech as she stops dead and stares at the shiny chrome taking up space on Alastor's counter.
It's the prettiest home model she'd ever seen, compact with its red cover and silver fixtures, the attached hopper already filled with oily, dark beans ready to be ground; And far more modern than anything she'd expect to find in Alastor's kitchen. Her heart flutters at the nature of the gift, Clover blinking back the sentimentalism welling in her eyes as she flips the machine's switch and the heaven-sent sound of grinding espresso fills the room. The ice bucket tucked inside Alastor's tiny freezer for cocktails was emptied into one of the many tall glasses he kept in his cabinet, and Clover almost snorted at how ridiculous his fancy fixings looked beside her humble iced coffee. With far less effort than the day before, Clover was rewarded with an aesthetically pleasing layer of dark espresso mixed with brown sugar floating on chilled cream to sip while she waited for Alastor to return.
Part of her wanted to wander the halls again, to try and trace their steps from the day before; The longer she thought about it, the less she remembered of anything other than the way Alastor's shoulders had looked in that sweater, or the pleasant timber of his voice as it projected through his radio to bounce off the expansive hallways- Or of what had happened afterward, when the knit of that sweater had been imprinted into the backs of her knees and his mouth had too busy entertaining her in other ways to continue his storytelling. Clover flushed at the memory, feeling the lingering effects of Alastor's rut already beginning to take over, and she took a long sip of her coffee in an attempt to smother the still-smoldering fire sitting just below the surface- She'd have to ask him exactly how long he expected this to continue, as she'd like to have full function of her mind before the extermination rolled around.
Clover blew bubbles into her coffee as she sighed, kicking herself that she'd been reminded of the extra-unfortunate circumstances Sinners were faced with every year. Quickly her mind began to race with too many questions to keep up with as worry set in, and the sudden spike of anxious adrenaline sent her vision swimming, her heart pounding so fiercely against the inside of her ribcage she feared it might escape.
How many people that her friends had known over the years had died to angelic wrath? Where would they all go? How did they survive this long already, and would she lose them eventually? Maybe Angel and Lollie were only safe under Valentino's protections, and her interference would mean they'd both find themselves in the line of fire? What could she do to keep herself safe? Is being under the same roof as the Princess of Hell enough- Or would Alastor insist on protecting her, on distracting himself from his well-being or that of their friends, and would that be what dooms them all?
Clover quickly set down her coffee, choosing to avoid caffeine until her panic had faded back into the fringes of her subconscious where it belonged so that her heart would hopefully vacate her throat and return to its rightful place- Though that wasn't going to do anything for her swiftly plummeting energy, so it was back in her hands as soon as her breathing began to slow so she could sip while she searched for something to fill the void.
A row of books tucked safely against the backsplash caught her attention, their staggered heights and weathered look standing out from the crisp clean countertops. Leaning her chin against the counter to squint at the lettering engraved into their spines and needlessly adjusting her glasses when she found the words too tiny to read, Clover wiped her hands free of her coffee's condensation and pulled one out. Her hand was drawn to the oldest looking of them all, a red leather-bound book with jutting papers stuck in among the binding. It fell open to one of the added sections, its writing smeared and stained with dark spots that stalled her investigation for fear of finding something unsavory- And then the smell of fragrant Cajun spices wafted up from the book, and her curiosity drew her to flip through it. The cookbook was old, perhaps as old as Alastor was, and filled with what she assumed were recipes collected over the years; Stews, souffles, and other savory southern classics took up much of the content, with a fair amount of more sweet confections sprinkled in.
As she flipped, she found the book continuously falling open to that page it had opened to at first, the spine bent open so severely to that position its limp leather bound cover barely moved when she let go to trace the cursive.
? ﾝﾓﾸ? ﾝﾓﾱ? ﾝﾓﾻ'? ? ﾝﾓﾪ? ﾝﾓﾫ? ﾝﾓﾵ? ﾝﾔﾂ?
1 ? ﾝﾓﾱ? ﾝﾓﾵ? ? ﾝﾓﾱ? ﾝﾓﾬ? ﾝﾓﾮ?- ? ﾝﾓﾮ? ﾝﾓﾮ? ﾝﾓ ? ? ﾝﾓﾪ? ﾝﾓﾬ? ﾝﾓﾼ? ? ﾝﾓﾸ? ? ﾝﾓﾽ? ﾝﾓﾬ?
2 ? ﾝﾓﾫ? ﾝﾓﾹ ? ﾝﾓﾾ? ﾝﾓﾽ? ﾝﾓﾻ
1 ? ﾝﾓﾫ. ? ﾝﾓﾷ? ﾝﾓﾸ? ﾝﾓﾲ? ﾝﾓﾵ? ? ﾝﾓﾪ? ﾝﾓﾼ? ﾝﾓﾰ?
1 ? ﾝﾓﾮ? ﾝﾓﾲ? ﾝﾓﾶ ? ﾝﾓﾮ? ﾝﾓﾵ? ﾝﾔﾀ ? ﾝﾓﾷ? ﾝﾓﾸ?
1 ? ﾝﾓﾻ? ﾝﾓﾮ? ? ﾝﾓﾮ? ﾝﾓﾹ? ﾝﾓﾻ
2 ? ﾝﾓﾮ? ﾝﾓﾮ? ﾝﾔﾂ ? ﾝﾓﾽ? ﾝﾓﾵ? ﾝﾓﾼ
1 ? ﾝﾓﾾ? ﾝﾓﾬ? ? ﾝﾓﾻ? ﾝﾓﾮ? ? ﾝﾓﾷ? ﾝﾓﾸ? ﾝﾓﾼ
3 ? ﾝﾓﾵ? ﾝﾓ ? ﾝﾓﾼ ? ﾝﾓﾪ? ﾝﾓﾵ? ﾝﾓﾬ, ? ﾝﾓﾲ? ﾝﾓﾬ? ﾝﾓﾭ
2 ? ﾝﾓﾾ? ﾝﾓﾼ ? ﾝﾓﾻ? ﾝﾓﾼ? ﾝﾓﾮ? ? ﾝﾓﾸ? ﾝﾓﾪ? ﾝﾓﾸ? ﾝﾓﾼ
2 ? ﾝﾓﾱ? ﾝﾓﾵ? ? ﾝﾓﾪ? ? ﾝﾓﾮ? ﾝﾓ ? ﾝﾓﾼ
1 ? ﾝﾓﾼ? ? ﾝﾓﾪ? ﾝﾓﾽ
4 ? ﾝﾓﾫ? ﾝﾓﾹ ? ﾝﾓﾮ? ﾝﾓﾼ? ﾝﾓﾷ? ﾝﾓﾷ?
4 ? ﾝﾓﾾ? ﾝﾓﾼ ? ﾝﾓﾱ? ﾝﾓﾬ? ﾝﾓﾮ? ? ﾝﾓﾽ? ﾝﾓﾬ?-
2 ? ﾝﾓﾾ? ﾝﾓﾼ ? ﾝﾓﾸ? ﾝﾓﾰ-? ﾝﾓﾻ? ﾝﾓﾲ? ? ﾝﾓﾲ? ﾝﾓﾮ
? ﾝﾓﾪ? ﾝﾓﾱ ? ﾝﾓﾻ? ﾝﾓﾼ? ﾝﾓﾪ?, ? ﾝﾓﾻ ? ﾝﾓﾹ? ﾝﾓﾻ? ﾝﾓﾹ? ﾝﾓﾪ? ﾝﾓﾮ ? ﾝﾓﾵ? ﾝﾓﾮ? ﾝﾓﾷ? ﾝﾓﾽ? ﾝﾓ ?
The recipe continued on the back of the page, written in the same curling ink cursive that had been scrawled across the front; It also had been edited in the same fashion, with broad strokes scratching out sections so their corrections could be written alongside the previous text and tiny additions added into the margins. From what Clover could tell from the mix-matched hues and weights of the writing, she assumed the recipe had been added to over a substantial span of time and her heart warmed with utter fondness as she pondered how it had been written; Had he recalled it slowly after death, perhaps? Or maybe he remembered it incorrectly and sought to remedy his forgetfulness by cooking the dish over and over until he got it right. Either way, it was a thought so sweet it set an ache in her teeth, which was incredibly impressive when taking her taste in coffee into consideration.
Over the crushing sentimentalism that blurred her vision, Clover vowed to follow Alastor's lead and find a way to honor the memories of her loved ones the best she could with her meager amount of happy memories.
"Clover?"
A call of her name had her frantically wiping her eyes before anyone could see, and Clover cleared her throat the best she could before she responded.
"I'm in here!"
A rustle from the doorway turned her head, and a bouquet of flowers walked through a moment later.
"Hells bells, it is chilly out there! I don't believe I've seen an autumn turn this quickly in centuries!" Alastor's broad smile appeared from behind the pink petals as he turned to set them down on the kitchen island alongside the other various parcels bundled in his arms. The coat of his Radio Demon attire was tossed across a chair at the table as Alastor turned to her, opening his arm for her to curl into as she settled in beside him. "How are you feeling?"
Clover's eyes had never left the bouquet, not even as he'd pressed a tender kiss to the top of her head. It was a beautiful display, with bunches of pink roses broken up with a wide petaled flower in varied shades of yellow, orange, and ivory, and dustings of tiny white flowers she assumed were the standard filler for most floral arrangements. All attempts to bite back her tenderhearted tendencies failed at the casual display of devotion, Clover's voice thinning as utter fondness flooded her eyes and clenched around the softness of her soul.
"Fine, I- Did you buy me flowers?"
A vase appeared with a wave of his hand, the flowers falling outward from their tight bindings to settle against intricate glasswork that decorated its mouth. The warm color of their petals contrasted sharply against the bright green glass, but before Clover could sift through the useless amount of information stored in her mind for the singular thought that had been sparked by the vase's nearly nuclear color, her breath caught in her throat. It was not anything about the arrangements itself that caught her attention, it was the slightest brush of the petals against the back of Alastor's knuckles as he twisted it round to admire his handiwork. Her breath held back as she waited for the leaves to turn, for rot to ripple across the roses and twist their bright buds from their stems- But they simply swung as Alastor turned it back to the most pleasing position.
"Ah! Yes, I saw them at the florist on the way home- They reminded me of you, and I thought you might enjoy them."
"But they're still ali-" Clover paused, wondering whether or not to draw attention to the change when Alastor was smiling so knowingly down at her, and cleared her throat as his brow rose in interest. "They're beautiful, Alastor. I love them."
"And how does the new-fangled coffee machine fare? Is it also to your liking?"
"I'm afraid I'm making a modern man out of you."
At that, Alastor barked a laugh and unwound himself from her now that he'd leeched her warmth, and began his task of unloading the small amount of groceries he'd brought with him into the fridge. Clover leaned against the counter to watch, burying her nose into the roses between draining the last of her coffee from her cup; She made a mental note to save some of the flowers whenever they began to wilt so she could make rose water, and then perhaps a simple syrup to play with once she was back at work. When the last of the ice from her cup was crushed between her teeth, Clover pushed off from the counter and ducked beneath Alastor's reaching arms as he rustled in his refrigerator to refill her glass from the freezer and sneak the cream out from under him.
"How about I make you a coffee, so you can see for yourself if it's any good?" Clover walked backward toward the coffee maker with a teasing rattle of the ice in her cup, stopping when the shining chrome caught the corner of her eye and turning it on again with a flick of her finger. "I'll make it just how you like it."
"What an idea!"
Alastor leaned around her to reach into the cabinet above and set down a crimson ceramic mug beside her glass with a satisfying "clunk". Clover snorted at his enthusiasm and sent him on a mission to collect the spices she usually snuck into his coffee while she emptied the portafilter and waited for fresh espresso to grind.
"You're in a good mood." She giggled as he slid her half-broken bar of dark chocolate as he swept past.
"And why wouldn't I be? I am of a clearer mind than I have been in days, the air outside is crisp with the changing of seasons, and I walk in to find a lovely girl enjoying her coffee in my kitchen- While dressed in quite the titillating little number, I might add!"
"You're ridiculous," Clover mumbled as she tugged her robe down her thighs, feeling her cheeks begin to flush. "And the lingerie was your doing, so-!"
Her playful scolding was cut off as Alastor took her by the waist and danced her in circles while his coffee poured, ignoring Clover's squeals of protest as a song swelled from his radio. Once she'd succeeded in batting him away so she could finish up their coffee now that she had the desired ingredients, and banished him to lean against the counter a foot away so he could not further antagonize the barista, Alastor's radio tuned to a more appropriate tune for their domestic bliss than the waltz he'd chosen to play before. He watched while she stirred ground cinnamon, clove, and cardamom into the still steaming coffee and spooned milk foam to float atop it, Clover carefully dusting the top with a sprinkling of more cinnamon and finishing it with a grate of fresh nutmeg before she pushed it to him for tasting.
The grinding of espresso overtook the buzz of warm static that filled his frequency as he sipped, barely grimacing at the still surely scalding coffee as he watched her craft her next coffee concoction. She'd noticed his eye began to wander as she worked, Alastor's head turning to take in the serenity that had settled over the room while he nursed the mug he adorably cupped between his palms, but Clover was distracted again by attempting to fit both a double dose of espresso and dark chocolate into her tiny metal pitcher so it could melt together before she floated it atop her cup of cold cream. So, when Alastor suddenly spoke through his radio with that crystal-clear quality, it took her a moment for her mind to catch up with the conversation.
"I see you found my cookbooks."
"Wha-? Oh," Clover blinked as he slid the book in question towards them, his fingers carefully cradling the worn pages, and then turned her gaze bashfully back to her stirring as shame settled in. "Sorry, I didn't mean to pry."
"It's alright, cher. Things like this are not meant to be hidden away, you're welcome to look as you wish. I trust that you will be careful with them."
"They seem well-loved, I'm guessing they're very old?"
Alastor nodded, seeming far-off in thought as he traced the divots his pen had made in the page. A sharp intake of breath cleared his voice of its radio interference to make room for his more natural, creole cadence as he continued.
"They are. Once I had gathered myself after falling, I sought to write down as much of my mother's cookbook as I could remember. It took some time for all of them to return to me- Buckshot does awful things to your retrospection, you see- and I made many mistakes in trying to perfect them, but I'm quite happy to say that they are now as they should be; A testament to her talents, and a meal worthy to remember her by."
Clover didn't think she would have ever been able to forgive herself if she'd looked up a moment later, for any longer would have meant she'd miss the utter softness that came over his features as he spoke of his mother's memory. Even if the reflection of the overhead lights across her lenses had not revealed the maternal influence in the warm tint to his skin or the broad shape of his nose, Clover would have seen how she shone through him. It lived in every crease of his smile, in the volume of his laughter, in every open palm and polite greeting; There was no doubt that part of her lived on in his soul, even if it was now damned, and that was entirely due to his decision to honor her memory in the ways he knew best.
Setting everything else aside, Clover's hand reached out for him- And he took it, turning his palm upward so she could lace her fingers with his.
"She would be so incredibly proud of you."
The statement pulled a humorless snort from Alastor. She wasn't sure why she said it, blaming it mostly on the lax leash she had on her mouth, but Clover couldn't find herself to regret it.
"I don't know about that, even a mother's love couldn't wash these hands of blood."
"She would, I know she would."
"Well, I am quite certain of one thing," His head lifted as he squeezed her hand in his, turning to look down at her with all the warmth in the world as he whispered- "She would have adored you."
A thousand thoughts filled her mind, fighting against the odds for their moment in the forefront; Her heart raced as her body joined the fray, and she found herself rocking on her heels while she decided what she should do; Half of her wanted to bounce up onto her toes and cover him in kisses, half wanted to finally allow the welling tears to fall for them both, and in her hearts unevenness there was another part that believed it better to remain silent so that they could linger on their thoughts. All of these possibilities formed into one singular sincerity that slipped past the lump in her throat, hoping that maybe this time would be the right one to tell him how she truly felt.
"Alastor, I lov-"
"There's something I wanted to-"
Their words ran into each other, crashing like two locomotives on the same track as his momentum sent her train of thought spiraling over top of his and tumbling off the rails. Both of them were startled at the interruption, and Clover watched with wide eyes as the moment crashed and burned before them. Alastor's radio fizzled, static screeching the soft mourning march that had been playing near inaudibly over their silence to a halt before a canned laugh track took over the frequency and Clover's mouth shut with a snap of teeth.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt," Alastor said, sheepishly. "You should go first."
His uneasy laughter barely lightened the weight that pressed down into her chest. Clover's head had already begun to shake before he'd even finished apologizing, her eyes dropping to idly stir her forgotten coffee before she took a long sip to wash back the withered remains of her admission to drown alongside the dread sitting in her stomach. Alastor's radio anxiously tuned while he waited, and Clover moved to busy herself with cleaning up their coffee mess while she motioned them away from this awkward moment with a dismissive wave of her hand.
"It was nothing- What were you saying?"
"Right, well-" A rough cough cleared Alastor's throat, his claws tapping on the countertop as his weight shifted from one foot to the other with no real rhythm as he gathered his thoughts. "Clover, I had some time to think while on my walk earlier, and while I understand we have quite a bit to talk about, there's something I would like to discuss that might- Lift a weight from our future, so to speak."
The sick pit in her stomach shifted into a familiar flutter at the promising turn in conversation, her ears lifting to better hear whatever he might say next even though her eyes refused to move from her mindless tinkering. Finally, Alastor had enough of her avoidance and laid a heavy hand over hers, prying her fingers from the machine's lever as she pulled it down to dispel excess steam and turned them both so her distraction was out of her grasp. The sharp granite of the counter's edge dug into her back as she leaned against it, Clover's eyes trained on the tender way he took both of her hands in his and held them lifted between them as he continued.
"I- I wanted to ask if you would like to stay with me during the extermination. One of my properties is quite out of the way, so there should be no chance that Heaven could harm you- And, if I am to be honest, I'd quite like you to see it."
Clover wasn't sure what she expected Alastor to ask her, but that was so far out of left field it almost felt right.
Her head shot up so quickly it sent her ears flopping against the cupboards behind her before they twitched upward in interest. Wide eyes reflected back at her from his monocle, their rose-red reflection glistening with the residual glassiness of the morning's emotional spiral as they blinked up into cheerful crimson. Alastor's expression was hopeful, and his radio said the same; It had clicked back on with the rolling of a drum that sent a slight twitch to his eye, but his annoyance was cut short as a furrow formed between Clover's brow.
"...What about everyone else? Husker, Niffty, Angel- I don't want them to get hurt."
He laughed, seeming amused at her instant concern for her friends before jumping right back into that Radio Demon splendor that swept her off her feet.
"Why, Husker and Niffty are welcome to stay here, as they have for decades! As for Angel, I'm afraid there's not much I can do for him whilst he's still under the thumb of that wretched roach he and Miss Pops call an employer." Alastor pressed a soothing kiss to her palm before he took both her hands in one of his, freeing himself to sweep her bangs back from her face so he could look at her fully. "I will speak to Miss Morningstar about what we might be able to do for them, but I assure you darling, our comrades have done well to protect themselves so far, and there is nothing to say that trend will not continue."
Clover was sure there were a million more questions she should have asked, but the only thought in her mind as she looked between the adorable way his ears twitched with anticipation and the bouquet sitting on the counter behind him, was how anyone could ever say no to this.
"I would love to stay with you," Clover giggled as his ears shot up and his smile grew wider; She was almost tempted to lean around him and check if that tiny tail of his was wagging beneath his clothes, but decided to spare him from that particular branch of her curiosity. Clover hopped up to peck his cheek before she slipped her arms around his neck, dropping her weight onto him as her questions began. "Do I get to know what this mystery hide-out is? I wasn't aware you had more than one place."
"All I will say is that I hope you are as charmed by its rustic quality as I was initially."
Alastor gently unwound her from him so he could return to his coffee, and Clover resigned herself to the unknown for the time being. She'd just finished cleaning off the last of the melted chocolate from the metal pitcher and switched off the espresso machine when Alastor decided to amend his earlier statement.
"And that you're not terrified of the locals."
Her sip stopped halfway up her straw as she stared at him, sputtering through what little she'd managed to get into her mouth as she turned to him incredulously.
"Locals?"
"Enough chit-chat!" Alastor exclaimed as he snapped up the cookbook from the counter and tucked it against his hip. "You must be starving! How about some jambalaya?"