Fawn's POV

The moment we got home, I sat him on the couch and went to get him some ice.

He protested, saying he was fine but I refused.

"You might feel fine right now, but your knuckles are going to be so sore," I called to him from the kitchen as I wet a rag with warm water and collected some ice into a towel.

I made my way back into the living room, and rounded the couch. One I was seated, I set the ice to the side and grabbed his right hand.

It was covered in blood, nearly dried now, and I tsk'd under my breath as I started gently wiping him off. My eyes were focused on his hand and my brows furrowed as I thought about the events that recently transpired.

"You didn't have to do that..." I mumbled, wiping away the blood little by little, being careful around his reddened and slightly swollen knuckles.

"Yes, I did," he answered quickly, making me lift my eyes to meet his. His tone was serious, and the moment we made eye contact my stomach did a little flip.

He not only had blood on his hand, but splattered on his face, and on his nice clothing.

Of course, he was completely unfazed.

"I wasn't just going to let him talk to you like that, let alone me!" He scoffed, "I've killed men for a fraction of what he did back there, he was lucky to leave with his life," he said sourly, yet a tight smile remained on his face.

I sighed, "I get that, but did you have to do it in front of his brother?" I questioned him, and his eyes once again shifted to mine.

He actually did have a bit of guilt behind them, and he looked away before absentmindedly bringing his thumb to his lips and sucking some of the blood off.

That action made my breath hitch, and for some reason heat crawled up the back of my neck. Suddenly I was hyper aware of how his muscles moved, and the bit of blood that was on his lips.

"I hope it taught him a lesson," he said quietly, making me blink out of my trance. I quickly looked away from him and back to what I was doing.

His hand was less bloodied, and I could clearly see his raw knuckles. Leaning forward, I started blowing a bit of cold air on them.

He flinched, nearly pulling his hand away before looking over at me curiously. Looking up at him, I kept my lips puffed out and gave him another gentle blow.

The way he watched me he almost looked embarrassed, a bit of color dusting his face. I chuckled and reached over, grabbing the ice off the table and handing it to him.

He held it on his knuckles, keeping his gaze turned towards me. His eyes had grown a lot softer now, and he turned towards me slightly.

"Are you alright? Today was a bit much..." he said softly, and I quickly nodded, looking at my hands in my lap.

I had a bit of blood on me as well now, and I looked over my hands, "yea, I'm ok...first time I've ever been hit, but other than that it was nothing I haven't dealt with before," I said casually.

He froze.

"What do you mean?" He asked, and I tilted an eyebrow at him.

"Catcalling is not a new thing for me," I chuckled, "nothing they said to me was something I haven't heard before in some form or another."

After I said that, he looked ready to kill again, so I touched his leg and gave him a gentle smile.

"It's alright..." I said quietly, watching his features slowly relax after I said that. My eyes shifted to the small bit of blood on his cheek, and I grabbed the rag, lifting it to his face.

"You got blood on your face," I mumbled, cupping his cheek to keep him still as my other hand used the rag to wipe the blood away.

Once the blood was gone, he just kept his eyes on me, lips parted slightly. His stare made me feel small, and my face slowly heated up the longer he looked at me.

Quickly, to hide my blush I looked down, and brought my hands away from his face.

"G-give me your shirt, and I'll wash it for you while you get cleaned up," I offered, and he hummed.

"You sure? Blood's a tough stain to get out," he said, and I scoffed.

"You doubt my stain removing skills?" I mocked a hurt expression, putting a hand to my chest as I raised my eyes to meet his again.

He chuckled at that, and put the makeshift ice pack to the side before beginning to unbutton his vest. I watched him, observing the way his fingers moved along the buttons.

After shrugging that off, he started on his dress shirt. I couldn't help but stare as his chest and torso were slowly revealed to me. His muscles moved when he did, and they flexed differently each time he shifted.

The soft, but obvious, definition in his chest and stomach made my throat feel dry as he handed me his shirt.

I took it, quickly breaking my stare before I stood up and excused myself to go wash his clothes.

Alastor's POV

I watched her scurry off swiftly, clutching my shirt and vest in her hands.

In all reality, I could've walked in this house and washed my hands before calling it a day.

She just looked so excited to help...I wanted to let her fix me up, simply because I knew it's what she wanted.

Standing up off the couch, I sighed and began walking upstairs. I can't wait for a shower and to just lay down in my bed.

As I was walking, her eyes passed through my head. Wide and bright, full of life...the way her cheeks gain a bit of color sometimes when she looks at me.

Then the image of her wearing that stunning dress...the way the sequins shook as she moved.

I made it to my room, beginning to feel hot from the images in my mind. The door shut behind me, and I pressed my back against it.

Letting my eyes close, it was just her behind my eyelids. Her smile, her voice, her face, her body...

It was beginning to feel really hot now as the image of her in her dress gave me a sweet smile and slowly started stripping down.

First the straps fell from her shoulders and then the top fell away, revealing what I think her breasts may look like.

My pants were beginning to feel tight, and I opened my eyes and looked down, watching in confusion as my pants grew tighter and tighter.

Why do I feel this way? Why am I thinking about her like this? This feeling is damn near unbearable...

I watched in my imagination as she laid back and spread her legs wide open for me. The thoughts I was having, I could hardly believe. Never have I ever fantasized about sex...

Currently, I couldn't focus on that. All I could focus on was unbuckling my belt and releasing this pressure on my crotch.

My pants fell around my ankles, but it still wasn't enough. Normally when I feel like this, it just goes away, but I'm nearly throbbing. The images won't leave my mind.

What's happening to me?

I know what I need to do to alleviate the growing sensation, but I hardly wanted to do that to images of her...it felt wrong...

But my body was disagreeing with me, and finally I removed my underwear, letting that fall to my ankles as well.

Turning around, I faced the door and used one arm to support myself. Leaning my head against that same arm, I wrapped my hand around my throbbing erection.

Almost immediately I let out a groan, thrusting my hand quickly. I just want to get this over with and hopefully rid my body of this feeling.

Clear fluid gathered at the head of my cock, and I I felt my muscles tighten as I panted. My thoughts clouded with images of her...her...her...

She was laying beneath me in my bed as I pumped in and out of her, and I tightened my grip on myself.

I imagined her nails against my back and her lips against my skin, sweat beginning to coat the back of my neck while I huffed deeply.

I imagined the noises she'd make as I buried myself inside her, the whimpers and moans. I could hear her begging me to fuck her harder, and I obliged by quickening my already fast pace against myself.

A deep pressure balled at the center of my stomach, and my pelvic muscles tightened as the pressure went lower, only growing stronger.

My fist clenched as I scrunched my face in an attempt to hold back the noises that wanted to escape me. A few grunts slipped through my teeth as the liquid pooling at the head of my cock began to lubricate my hand, causing me to glide even faster than before.

Tightening my grip even more, I imagined her legs wrapped around my waist as she came undone beneath me, gasping and moaning my name.

That was what did it, because in that moment the pressure I was feeling snapped, causing me to gasp and shudder.

My hips bucked into my hand and the muscles in my legs tensed up, my cock throbbing as I finished all over my bedroom door—imagining that I was buried deep inside her. There was so much of the viscous substance that some of it got on my hand, dripping off my tip slowly.

I had to catch my breath for a second, my back heaving as I swallowed to wet my dry throat. Slowly I came back to my senses, looking at my hand that was covered in the semitransparent fluid.

Then to the door where it was slowly dripping.

Disgust washed over me, and I quickly grabbed a handkerchief from my bathroom. After yanking my pants back up, I wiped my hand off thoroughly, and then cleaned the door.

The relief was nothing compared to the shame I was now feeling, the utter embarrassment of what I was just reduced to.

My hand raked back through my hair and I paced my room. Why do I feel this way? Even now I can't get her to leave my mind, even after that pathetic display.

Except, now the thoughts are calm...gentle memories of the past few days. The concentrated look on her face when she would work with my radio...

Or the way her eyes lit up when she saw that dress.

Could this go deeper than physical attraction...? Have I fallen victim to the trivial emotions that I once found so useless?

Is this what it feels like to care about someone? The only other people I have to compare this feeling to is what I felt for my mother, and for mama Edith...

But even those are different than this.

I want to protect her and hold her...I want her to look at me like I'm the only person on the planet. I want her affection, and I want more of that warm feeling that spreads through my body whenever I see her smile.

She's like a spider, and I've wondered helplessly into her web. Now I'm stuck here...

Suddenly there was a knock to my door, making me jolt slightly.

"Alastor..." her muffled voice from the other side made the emotions that were swirling in my chest get ten times worse, but I kept myself calm and put on a smile.

Opening the door, completely forgetting I'm still shirtless, I looked down at her.

She looked up at me through her lashes, still clutching my bloody clothes.

"I don't know how to use your washing machine..." she mumbled, and I ignored the immediate tug against my heart from the adorable look on her face.

It made me want to grab her and kiss her.

Instead I gave her a soft smile and pushed my emotions to the side.

She doesn't deserve to be subjected to that...she wants to get home, and she's trusting me to help her do that...even though the thought of her leaving now is bittersweet.

So, I stepped out of my room and shut the door, leaving those thoughts and feelings behind for later when I'm alone.

**

A/N: Please look up a 1920's washing machine and you'll understand Fawn's plight😂