* Trigger Warning: this chapter contains sexual content. Please take care when reading. If that's not your thing, feel free to move on to the next chapter.*
Alastor lifted Isobel's hands over her head and held her wrists together. A black tendril of shadow wound its way around them and held her in place against the wall. He then took a step back and eyed her up and down. It had not escaped his notice that she had braided her hair again that morning, and also, that she happened to be wearing a skirt.
He snatched up her hair and tore the tie from its end. Throwing it behind him, the tie bounced off the wall and onto the floor as he clawed at the braid until it unraveled. Her long hair fell about her shoulders and down her chest. He took a lock and wound it around his fingers as he brought it to his nose. Closing his eyes, he inhaled her scent.
He then stepped close, his body pressing in on her. He stood slightly stooped and legs planted wide, but she still felt like he towered over her. His one hand reached for her, sliding up her neck toward the back of her head where his fingers tangled themselves in her dark tresses.
He leaned in and Isobel lifted her chin in greedy anticipation of his lips on hers, but he stopped millimeters away, hovering just out of reach. So this was how it was going to be? Fine, she thought sullenly. She didn't need him to kiss her for her to enjoy herself.
With his other hand, he reached to the hem of her skirt just above her knee. As he pulled it up, he traced his fore and middle fingers the length of her thigh. Isobel inhaled deeply as goosebumps arose all over her body.
His fingers continued to slide up until they reached her hip and the edge of her black, lace panties. After only a few tugs, they fell down her legs to pool at her feet.
He then wrapped his hand around the back of her thigh, fingers and claws digging into flesh, and lifted her off her feet. His strength was such that she felt as if she weighed nothing to him and in response she wrapped her legs around his hips. She could feel that he was already hard and she squeezed ever tighter.
With one hand he held her weight while the other released his button and zipper. Isobel gasped as she felt the pressure and plunge inside.
Starting slowly at first, Alastor marched out a rhythm. It got faster and stronger as he pushed her against the wall over and over. Her excitement climbed to almost a breaking point. She closed her eyes, and pressed into him as her legs trembled.
Then he stopped.
Her eyes shot open, wondering what was wrong. But the expression that met her was that of a man fully in control.
"What do you want?" he said in a low steady tone.
"What?" she said, confused and annoyed.
"Tell me what you want."
Isobel scowled and looked away. More stupid, fucking games. Alastor grabbed her firmly by the chin and pulled her back. His eyes bored into hers.
"I can give you what you want, but you have to say it."
Son of a bitch, Isobel thought. She tugged at her restraints, but they didn't budge.
"Say it." He leaned close to her again, their breaths mingling together. She sighed, defeated.
"I want," she whispered almost inaudibly.
"Yes?" He said louder.
With a steely focus, her green eyes blazing, she said clear and firm, "I want you."
Alastor released her wrists and she immediately wrapped her hands around his ears pulling him in until her hungry mouth met his, muffling her moan as he pushed hard into her. He resumed his rhythm with more force.
Isobel released his ears and instead grasped his antlers as he buried his face and teeth into her neck. She closed her eyes and forgot where she was or to control her volume.
Alastor reached up, placing a hand over her mouth, on which Isobel bit down. She clamped down on his middle and ring finger drawing blood. He hissed and gnashed his teeth but did not stop until her body quivered and contracted. Her climax was soon followed by his own. And they both stayed pressed against the wall waiting for their breathing to regulate and thundering pulses to quiet.
In time, Alastor pulled away and gently lowered Isobel to the floor. They set to tidying themself, him zipping his fly while she smoothed her tangle hair. He placed a finger under her chin and lifted her attention to his face.
He grinned down at her before saying, "you may leave."
She smiled sardonically back, and sauntered out of the alcove. This time just before turning out of sight she stopped and looked back at him, then she was gone.
He adjusted his tie and was about to follow suit when something on the floor caught his eye. A small pile of lace and cloth. Isobel's panties lay on the floor. He picked them up, folded them neatly and placed them into an inner pocket of his coat.
Throughout the day his mind would return to them. Every time he would see Isobel he would be reminded of her lack of undergarments and his thumb would absentmindedly play over the teeth marks she left on his fingers. If they passed close enough, his heightened senses would smell his own scent on her like she had been marked, claimed.
Isobel would randomly catch the smell of Alastor on herself as well, and though she would never admit it, she liked it as much as he did.
