For Reireika-chan's lemon contest!
From Alfred's POV
Falling. That was the only thing he could sense as his speed soon increased. Fire engulfed his being, and if it weren't for his own powers, he would have died right there. His clothing soon burned away, but he didn't have time to be embarrassed at the moment. That wasn't the worst of it though.
No, the worst of the fall was the final moment right before he hit the ground, when he knew that he would be dead as soon as he hit it. Bringing up his arms to protect his face, he blacked out, unconscious to the world.
You had woken up to a bone-rattling thundering, shaking your entire house and knocking pictures in their frames off the walls. Pushing yourself up from your bed, you yawned, thinking you might have imagined it, before you rubbed the crust out of your eyes and saw the shattered pieces of glass on the floor. You didn't get earthquakes here. Running to the front porch, you looked outside, to see what might have caused such a thing.
Towards the west was a large stream of black smoke, trailing all the way down to the ground, somewhere in the forest near your house. Heading back inside, you pulled on your clothes, not about to let this one go. The government has been detonating lots of explosives in the forest, causing not only an annoyance to you, but some of your things to become broken. And now they'd finally done it. This was the last straw
Pushing your arms through your jacket's you started walking in the direction the smoke was heading, making sure of your direction so you wouldn't get lost on your way back. When you found shattered remains of tree, yet no government officials, you became confused. No human or animal could have done this; it must have been some sort of projectile. And if you were in a nuclear fallout, then surely you would have been apprehended.
You were broken out of your thoughts by sounds of pain coming from a tangle of bushes and shrubbery about a yard in front of you. Walking forwards, you knelt down by it, catching the briefest glimpse of blonde hair, fractured glasses, and blood. Lots of it.
Gasping, you reeled back, before pushing away the branches to find a man. Except this one wasn't ordinary. That much was true. Either from his lack of clothes or from the wings protruding from his back, something told you he wasn't human.
He seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness, his eyes opening and beginning to focus on you for a second before he reverted back to his state of unmoving. Cursing to yourself, you gripped him beneath his arms, trying to pull him out of the small ditch. He wasn't light, nor was he helping you any pull him out when he was awake.
Still, you made due, and in a few hours he was lying on your couch, still bleeding from various cuts on his body. Rushing around your house, you collected all the Band-Aids and rubbing alcohol you had, hoping he wouldn't die on your couch, naked as he was. It occurred to you to call 911, but decided it would be a bad idea, taking into account his wings. Laying a towel over his midsection so you wouldn't lose yourself to embarrassment, you began treating his wounds, leaving once or twice to find something you had forgotten.
Some of his bones were broken, you found out later, just as you were wrapping the last large wound with gauze. Realizing that you'd have to set them before you do anything else, you took his right arm, the one you had been wrapping when you realized it was broken. Making a makeshift sling out of an old scarf you never used, blue with tassels, you prayed you weren't making his injuries worse by doing this.
Realizing you would have to place your hands on him to find his other broken bones, your face became red, and you hesitated for a moment before you finally felt along his chest and ribcage. He had a nice body, you thought to yourself, looking at all the contours of it. Moving your hands to his legs, you examined them both, trying to find anything that was broken or fractured.
His wings were another problem altogether
You had treated the injuries on his body simply from your health class in high school; you weren't trained to heal animals, let alone birds. Looking down at them, they seemed to be a more grey-ish shade than when you had first dragged him from the ditch he was in.
Once it looked like he wasn't bleeding from anything major anymore, you went into the kitchen, cleaning off the blood from your arms and hands. Afterwards, you went into your bedroom to change into different, less bloodstained, clothes, not wanting to startle him when he woke up. If he woke up, you cynically reminded yourself.
Heading back down the stairs, you started when you saw sky blue eyes staring up at you from the couch, confusion apparent in his eyes. Saying something in a language you couldn't understand, you shook your head, to indicate that you didn't understand as you made your way down the remainder of the stairs.
He had awoken to a thundering banging sound, his head pounding, and his whole body feeling like it had been to hell and back. Which, for most intents, it had been. Opening his eyes, he tried to sit up, but it brought upon a wave of nausea.
What happened? He tried to remember the events of the day, but it seemed as if someone had taken his memory from him. Then, in a flash, it all came back to him.
He was an angel. Well, had been, but that's beside the point. He'd done something
that was the part of his mind that remained foggy, what had actually happened to cause this. Then the fall came back to him.
Quickly glancing around, he determined that he was alone, at least for the moment, but entirely naked, save for the cloth placed around his waist. Who had taken care of him, he wondered, trying to sit up once more and failing.
That banging sound came back, and he looked to where it was originating from. It was a woman
She jumped as soon as she noticed him, so he told her, "I am not dangerous," in Latin, but it seemed that she didn't hear or understand him, coming down the stairs and next to the couch he was sitting on.
She was pretty, now that she was closer, beautiful, even, if you looked for longer. It was then that his final memory, why he'd been forced to fall, came back to him. Anastasia
Just as he was losing himself in his thoughts of his past love, he was pulled back by a sharp pain in his arm. Yelping, he looked at the woman.
At his shout, you stopped what you were doing, which was examining his broken arm. Letting it go, you slowly nodded, trying to understand what he was going through. He tried to get up again, forcing you to place your hands upon his bare chest and push him back down, telling him, "Don't. You'll hurt yourself."
The tone of your voice seemed to reach him, and he simply nodded before lying back down. "Stay here," you told him next, going into the kitchen again. You were bursting with questions, but you had no idea if he even understood you, and there was no chance in hell you understood him.
Preparing a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a glass of water, you brought it back to him. It appeared that he didn't know what to do with either. Giving him an exasperated look, you spoke, "Come now, you eat this," you took a small bite of the sandwich before handing it back to him, "and you drink this," you drank a bit of the water for emphasis.
When it seemed he had gotten the hang of it, and was hungrily eating the food, you made a move to stand up, but he quickly grabbed your arm, his eyes pleading with you not to leave. Sitting back down, you asked him, "What's your name?" slowly, trying to see if he would start to understand.
He gave you a confused look, still eating the food thoughtfully. Once he had finished though, he grabbed ahold of your temples, bringing your forehead to his. His blue eyes closed, and something amazing yet terrifying at the same time happened.
He had gotten fed up with the language barrier, and searched his memory for a solution to it. Then, he remembered it, and had preformed it. Shapes formed into letters, letters formed into words, words formed into sentences, and sentences turned into paragraphs and thoughts. It was when her memories began flooding his mind that he pulled away. Never, never, enter another's memories, even if they say it's okay. While he'd only gotten a small glimpse of her early childhood, it still felt wrong to invade on such personal things.
You felt shaken after he let you go, and promptly asked, "What did you do to me?"
He responded slowly, but responded nonetheless, with, "I
language." To him, the words felt clunky on his tongue, and he struggled to get them out of his mouth, more used to the fluidity and eloquence of Latin.
"You canyou can speak English now?" you asked, incredulous now. It was all so impossible
but of course, a man with wings is sitting on your couch, who hadn't been able to speak a word of English only a few seconds ago.
He nodded slowly, trying to sit up once again. His wounds would heal, in time, faster than a human would, but significantly slower than an angel, which he had been until only recently, when he was expelled from Heaven and turned into a fallen. It was a depressing thought, once he stopped to think about it, but he shook it from his mind, instead focusing on what you were saying.
"What's your name?" you started with again, gazing into his eyes.
He paused for a second, his mind struggling to translate the name. Finally, he said, "Alfred. Alfred F. Jones."
You nodded, never breaking your eye contact, and continued, "So, you're aan angel?" gesturing to his wings.
"Yeah," he told you, already becoming accustomed to the way you talked. "Or, at least, used to be."
Your eyebrows furrowing together in confusion, you stood up once again, telling him, "I can't leave you like that. I'll go upstairs and get some old clothes of my dad's that might fit you." Heading up the stairs, you glanced behind you for a moment, to find him following you, the towel you had draped across him gone.
"Alfred!" you shouted, trying hard to keep your gaze upon his face, though you found your eyes steadily traveling down his chest. "Make yourself decent before you walk around my house!" Running the rest of the way up, and leaving him confused in the stairwell, you quickly gathered some clothes that looked like they might fit him, and handed them to him.
"Now, go into the bathroom." you pointed, "and put those on. If you need help, tell me, and I will." He bobbed his head up in a nod, and left, heading into the room you had indicated. A while passed, then he called out to you.
"I need, uh, help
Pushing open the door to the bathroom, you saw him standing there, his pants not on yet, and the shirt you had given him buttoned at the top, but neither were his arms through the holes or the rest of the buttons done.
Making a tsking sound with your tongue, you went to him, keeping your eyes on him. Unbuttoning the top one, you helped him get his arms through the holes, and rebutton the shirt, correctly this time.
The pants were another thing altogether. Not sure enough of yourself to be able to pull the underwear you had given him up, you contemplated this for a few minutes before sighing, and kneeling at his feet. Helping you into the boxers, and subsequently the pants, you stood back up, quickly leaving the room, a furiously red blush upon your cheeks.
Several weeks had passed since his arrival to your house, and the two of you had grown increasingly close, even so much as to share casual flirting, but nothing more. However, you had caught him staring sometimes, and once or twice, when you'd be coming out of the shower, you would find your clothes missing, and would have to walk through the house to get them from Alfred, who would claim that he had 'found' them outside the bathroom.
Today, you had left him at home alone while you went to the store to get food for the week, and he was moving about the house, trying to get a feel for you based on your belongings. He had gone through every room in the house except for your bedroom, even though he knew in his heart that what he sought was in there.
Finally getting the nerve to look in, he began searching the closet, going through boxes and piles of things, searching for anything that might give him a hint as to who you were. He found nothing, it was as if you had simply 'appeared' the very day you had dragged him to your house
Thinking it odd, he left it, knowing he had probably violated your privacy by doing this.
Sighing, he knew he couldn't deal with simply watching you anymore, he wanted you, as sinful as it may be. No, he needed you. And he would have you whether you wanted it or not
Coming back home, you had just enough time to set down the few bags of groceries you had gotten before Alfred was behind you, turning you around in his arms to look at you. Within a second, his lips were placed upon yours, his now almost black wings wrapping around you so you couldn't escape.
Too startled to do anything for a moment, when you could move, you resisted instinctively before finally accepting the gesture, and returned it. You parted your lips slightly to allow him entrance into your mouth, and felt his tongue move its way into it, toying with yours for a second before making its way all around your mouth.
Your eyes fell close after a second, and you were unprepared for it when he lifted you up into his strong arms. "Alfred," you shouted, looking up at him, "you're still recovering! You can't be doing heavy lifting!"
He shook his head, a slightly arrogant smile upon his face as he spoke, "I was fully recovered days ago, but I pretended not to be so I could stay with you."
A blush creeped upon your cheeks, but you shook your head ruefully, watching as he carried you up the stairs to your bedroom. He had wanted to do this for so long, weeks now, wanted to pound into you until morning or God smites him for the thoughts he was having, and the actions he dreamt of performing.
Setting you down on the bed, he feathered kisses down your neck, you tangling your hands in his hair, and tightening your hold on them as he reached the spot that made shivers run down your back. He noticed this, and took advantage of it, soon biting the area softly, at first, before becoming more lustful and fierce.
At an entirely sharp bite, your fingers tugged gently at the cowlick on his head, causing his motions to become more wanting as he ground his hips into yours, his breath feverish against your skin, one of his hands reaching up your shirt while the other one pulled you close to him.
As his fingers gently reached under your bra, you let out a soft moan, as they rolled your nipples between two of them. Painstakingly slowly, he began taking off your clothes, until you were in nothing but your underwear.
Seeing the bulge in his pants, a sly smile came to your face, and you reached out to him, rubbing his shaft through the cloth. He let out pained moans, laced with pleasure, placing his lips upon yours to silence them.
After you had thought he had suffered enough, you began to unbutton his pants, as slowly as he had with you. Next, you moved to his shirt, pulling it over his head, before you tugged at the waistband of his boxers.
A while ago you had gone out and bought him clothes that would suit him better, and he had seemed to appreciate them more than her father's old things.
A smile came to his face, and he slid his boxers down his legs, revealing his generous length to you. Leaning over you, he reached behind your back, unclasping your bra and letting the fabric fall to the sheets. Placing soft kisses on your now-bare skin, you shivered softly as you felt his hands pull down your own underwear.
Giving you his most tender kiss yet, he told you, "It will hurt at first, but I'll try to be as gentle as possible."
You nodded your thanks before taking his hand in yours, squeezing it to tell him you were ready. Properly positioning himself, he gave you a reassuring smile right before he pushed himself into you. The pain was terrible at first, but it soon passed and was replaced by pleasure when he filled you.
"Alfred!" you gasped, about to say more, but it was cut off by your own moan as he slowly moved against you, his half-lidded eyes filled with lust. Gradually, he picked up the pace, and both were shouting each other's name, your cries of ecstasy elevating when he hit your g-spot, feeling yourself nearing your peak.
Alfred was in pure bliss at the moment, every dream, thought, and wish he'd had about you was finally coming true, and it was willing! Hooking your legs around his neck so he could go in deeper, he smiled at every small noise of pleasure you made, he too feeling himself nearing his end.
With a near-simultaneous cry, the two of you were finished, and you felt your walls clamp on his shaft, while he released into you, riding out your orgasm until he collapsed on top of you, out of breath and gasping.
"_____," he breathed, his breath against your sweaty skin, his wings once again wrapping themselves around you, "I
I love you."
"I love you, too, Alfred," you responded, giving him a soft kiss before pulling away, content on just looking into his blue eyes.