CH 48: Aftercare

**Trigger Warning: Still mild discussion of BDSM in the beginning.**

~ Alastor's POV ~

She was simply bewitching the entire time. I had longed for her touch, for her bites, for her scratches, for far too long. There was no way I was ever going to let her go, despite her attempts to avoid me or throw me sass. All this time she had been focused on avoiding me or fighting me that seeing her like that was hypnotic. It was a movie I wanted to replay in a constant loop in my mind. She came so beautifully undone for me, that I just knew in my soul that she still harbored all those emotions she once had for me.

She lays in my arms, cuddled up like a small kitten all spent and weakened. Except, her skin was engulfed by the numerous marks I had left in my wake. I couldn't help myself, her blood had always been the sweetest delicacy I've ever had the pleasure of indulging in. She was my greatest sin and I loved to ravish her. 

She tasted like sweet strawberries mixed into a strong red wine. 

Truly delicious.

As I walk her to the bathroom in the back of this dressing room, I realize it's filthy and that just won't do. I shake my head in disgust. No, she deserved a lot better than that. I needed to make sure I tended to her with the upmost respect and consideration. With a wave of my hand, I transport us back to my hotel suite and place her on the bed.

"Wait here, I'll run you a bath." I see her scramble on the bed to sit up, trying her best to cover herself in her torn dress.

Shame, it was a nice one.

Oh well...

I turn and walk into the bathroom, beginning to draw a warm bath. I plug the drain and turn back into the room, peering outside the doorframe. "Are you able to walk, dear, or do you wish to be carried?"

She continues to look down at her dress, playing with the torn pieces, not responding. I take a few steps closer, carefully picking her chin up with my finger. She often got like this after we would fulfill our fantasies with one another, becoming quiet and almost within a trace. She wasn't this way on a typical basis, but every time she was left satisfied, she would usually become putty underneath me. She needed a while to regain herself.

It was something I had treasured the most about having the honor to be intimate with her, the moments afterward where she would need me tenderly instead of in a primal craze.

"Dear..." I whisper in a nurturing manner, "Are you ready for your bath?" She looks up at me with those huge green eyes, blinking slowly until she nods twice. She's still a tiny little thing compared to me, and is not a trouble at all to be carried. She's as light as a feather for me. I gently scoop her up, allowing her to rest her head on my chest while I carry her to the bathroom. She's still shaking from her high, but that will soon subside. 

I place her on the ledge of the bath, helping her remove her dress and garments. She's left completely bare in front of me, looking more like an artwork than a person. A beautiful painting of red, purple, and blue blotches. She was a canvas and for that moment I was suddenly Picasso.

Perhaps I went overboard? It has been several decades of me watching her with a starved desire burning within me.

She didn't seem to mind. In fact, she welcomed it.

I guide her into the tub and stroke her hair lovingly as I see her chest rise and fall slowly. She still hasn't said anything but keeps looking up at me now and then as I pour the warm water over her body.

"Did any of that hurt too much, my darling?" I ask with genuine concern for her.

"N-No..." She whimpers, but I know it's not from sadness or despair. That whimper meant 'take me a million times over' and she was still very much in the moment. "It felt nice." She mumbles.

"Ah, well I'm happy to have satisfied your cravings." I hum take a washcloth from the sink and dip it into the water. "Let's get you cleaned up..."

I trace over her skin carefully so as to not aggravate her skin any further. She was heavenly, and I was so incredibly blessed even in this afterlife that I was able to have her sitting before me. I wanted to keep her there, to tell her everything that she has missed, and pour my heart out to her to assure her that my devotion to her never passed away with us.

But I couldn't. If she knew the truth, she would quickly fall into danger and I couldn't risk that happening. Even if that wasn't the case, my pride refused to allow me to explain how I sold my soul to the biggest bitch Hell has ever known, now finding myself on a leash like a goddamn dog.

I knew that if she were to be made aware of my deal, she would do anything in her power to free me from my torment. Although that would be ideal (to be free), she would risk her life for mine and that wasn't going to be an outcome I would be willing to see. 

Underneath it all, the true reason I never came to her, was because I was too disgusted at myself to face her. I had been haunted by my memories for centuries, and I knew she would hate me. She would make the decision to turn away from me. It was easier for me to see her avoid me as someone she didn't truly know or care about, than to lose feelings for me when she used to cherish and love me so dearly. 

~ Esme's POV ~

Everything feels light and airy like I'm able to breathe peacefully for the first time. I feel my body warm and pleasurable, wanting to moan every time he touches my skin. He was very attentive at this moment, as he always was, he would clean me up after every 'session' and ensure me that he cared for me beyond words could say. We used to spend a lot of time snuggled up in our bed, with my head on his chest listening to his heartbeat as he praised me for being so good for him.

The memory is enough to bring tears to my eyes and I begin to softly cry. He takes quick notice of this and drops the rag into the pink water, turning my face to his, "Why do you cry, cher?"

I don't have the time to ration with my brain before the thought races out of my lips, "Why don't you want me anymore?"

"What do you mean?"

"You left me for so many years..." I whisper, turning to face him, "I was all alone, Alastor. I loved you endlessly..." The tears pour down my skin, "...did you not care for me?"

"That's the most ridiculous thing you've ever said." His eyes narrow and I can tell that despite his smile, he's very serious at this moment, "I had my reasons, you have to trust me."

I continue to sniffle as he wipes my marks with the rag, removing all the blood from my skin. I'm quite literally covered in them. This is going to be very hard to hide.

"Do you truly doubt my affection for you?" He asks, pausing before wiping another mark on my thigh.

"Sometimes..." I say honestly. I know this must hit hard for him because there's a long drawn-out silence that I eventually fill, "Sometimes I see glimpses of the man I once loved, but other times I struggle to see him."

He sucks his teeth, "I'm not the man I once was, you're going to have to live with that." That one hurt, especially since I could still see him in there. He was there, but he was fighting with himself for dominance over his mind, "But..." He holds my jaw firmly in place to look at him, "Know that everything I do has a clear intention, and if I decided to hide myself from you, believe it was for a damn good reason."

Our eyes lock and I can feel his sincerity. For a moment, I felt secure in his answer, but then my frustration got the best of me. I grabbed the rag out of his hand and threw it against the wall. His head snapped to follow it, holding his gaze on it while I spoke. "You can't keep it from me forever, Alastor..." I growled.

His head turned to face me at a painstakingly slow rate, his smiling widening and his eyes narrowing, "Can you respect that I rather not discuss this right now?" He hisses in a challenging tone.

No, don't do this to me. Just let me see you.

I grab the sides of his head with my hands, leaning over the water and to his face, "Alastor, please...please just listen to me and let me in.." I plead. Perhaps if I can enter his mind for a second, with his permission, he can let me into his world without even having to say anything? If he would just listen to me, we could talk about this and move forward, instead of living like two wrenched roommates.

I don't want to live as roommates. I'm your wife, why won't you tell me what's going on?

His eyes widen and he scans mine as if he's searching for something. His ears stand upright and his antlers grow slightly before he yanks his body back, causing me to splash back into the water. It splashes in my face, some even spilling out of the tub. I wipe my skin and look up at him through my damp eyelashes.

He looks at me cold and expressionless.

"It's for your wellbeing." He says before standing up. He walks to the door before pausing and looking over his shoulder, "Don't bother about washing the rest of them, you'll be fine." He walks out of the bathroom and I look down to see that most of my marks have disappeared, except for the one bite mark still on my collarbone. I assume he had used his power to make the rest of them invisible to the naked eye because when I traced my finger along the empty spots, I could still feel a twinge of pain.

They were all gone, all but that one clear symbol branded on my skin.

He wanted people to see it. He wanted everyone to know who I belonged to.

But I don't belong to you, not until you say it. Not until you tell me why and you're honest with me.

Throughout our lives together, he was always honest with me. I don't understand what is so different here. I didn't have the balls to enter his mind, I couldn't violate him like that. I still respected him too much.

What is holding you back from me? What has changed within you?

There's a deep chaos, I sense it.

I stand up from the water, wringing out my hair and covering myself in a towel before walking outside to see him standing in the trees of his bayou. It's silent in the room, the void being filled by the sounds of crickets and frogs in the swamp.

"Alastor..." He refuses to turn to me. Why won't he look at me? "Al..." He still stands with his back turned,

"Honey, I love you..." I sniffle, "I will love you for the rest of my days, but if you keep pushing me away like this..."

There's a pause before my voice cracks and I speak softly, "I can't guarantee I'll be willing to be here when you're ready."

And with that, I turn away and exit, retreating to my room. 

~ Author's Note ~ 

I hope you all enjoyed that chapter. I have decided that this book is probably going to end at chapter 60, just like spell did. That means we have 12 chapters left. 

I'm trying to figure out what I'm going to do during my hiatus while I wait for season 2 to be released. Then it dawned on me, what about an AU about Geneviève's life if she had never died and outlived both of her parents?

She most likely would have been sent to New York due to the system finding Esme's parents (since Alastor had no family). It could be a story about her discovering who her parents were, considering she would have no memory of them.

Just for shits and gigs....here she is all grown up. (Just a concept that I ran through Microsoft Ai).



Let me know if you would be interested in this! 

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~ Artemis 🦌💗