minnie 𝜗𝜚

GUILT WAS SOMETHING Alfie particularly struggled with. He never liked to dwell too deeply on anything in life too much, so when things did get serious, he brushed it under the rug and carried on with his life.

However, he’d been holding onto your personal journal for a little over two months now, and it was really starting to gnaw at his insides.

He’d read it over, even though he knows he shouldn’t have, and found out pretty much everything.

Your bond with your mother compared to that of the one with your father, the annoyance you held for having to move away from home, embarrassing moments you’d faced that dated back long before he knew you, and your struggling relationship with God (no matter how much you put up a front) that was only faltering further the more time you spent around Alfie.

That made him feel a little bad.

He didn’t want to be the reason you lost your faith, the one consistent thing throughout your life. You lived by the Bible, breathed every breath in thanks to God, and designated every achievement to Him.

Alfie wondered if you’d noticed your missing journal. Did you care? Were you upset? You hadn’t gone to ask him if he’d seen it anywhere. Were you panicking?

Yes, yes, and yes.

You hadn’t had a decent rest for the past couple of months because you felt sick to your stomach at the thought of anyone stumbling upon your journal and letting their curiosity win over their morality.

Of course you couldn’t just go up to Alfie and ask if he’d seen it anywhere, because that would open up a whirlwind of endless teasing and begging to know what you’d written about.

Numerous times you’d trekked out into the field and scoured the land, begging to find that little leatherback journal, but every time you’d returned empty handed.

You were praying that it would miraculously appear under your bed or on your bedside table, and you could just blame it all on poor eyesight, but so far, God’s ears had turned deaf on your pleas.

The night was cooler than the past few days, something that you felt very relieved by. While the heat was nice, it was beginning to cross the boundary into uncomfortable territory.

You were busying yourself in the kitchen, washing the dishes, drying them and putting them away in the cabinets they belonged to.

A knock on the door startled you, and you nearly dropped the ceramic plate you were holding.

It was late, the sun was nowhere to be seen, and you were still home alone.

It wouldn’t have been your parents, they had a key, not to mention they weren’t due to be back for another few days yet.

Cautiously, you approached the door, footsteps light and airy as to not announce to the stranger that you were approaching.

You peeled back the lace curtain in front of the window on your front door, taking a peek into the darkness that surrounded your house.

A sigh of relief came from you when you recognised Alfie’s build, your eyes trailing up it before they found his face.

He noticed you sneaking, a little chuckle escaping his mouth.

Your cheeks enflamed, but you stood to your full height and unlocked the door.

“Hi.” You breathed.

“Y’alright?”

“Yeah, you scared me a little.” You smiled softly.

“Sorry about that.” He smiled back.

It was then that you took the initiative to step to the side and let him in.

He removed his hat, hanging it up on the hook available and undid his shoes.

It wasn’t unusual for him to make himself at home so quickly. Your families had grown relatively close over the half a year you’d spent together.

“What you doin’ tonight?”

“Nothing, just some dishes, then maybe watch some TV. Did you want to join?” You offered politely.

“Yeah, uh, I just … I need to give you something.”

Your heart plummeted out of its spot behind your ribcage at the sight of your dark, leatherback journal being revealed in the waistband of his jeans.

He tugged it out, clearing his throat and passing it forward.

You looked at it like it had done something personally offensive to you, before taking it with shaky hands and a thick swallow that had you wondering if Alfie could hear it.

There was no other sound in the house other than the hammering pulse of your heart and your harsh breathing.

With a nod, you thanked him.

“I— um …”

He didn’t need to say anything else for you to be able to put the pieces together.

He’d read it.

Your stomach was churning violently, and you felt the dinner you’d just consumed threatening to return on your kitchen floor.

No amount of deep breaths could save you from this sickly feeling.

“Sorry, I’ll just go and put this upstairs and we can watch a movie.” You gave him the most genuine smile you could muster up.

Brushing past him, you scaled the stairs and found your bedroom, shutting the door behind you.

Your knees hit the carpet in front of your bed, and you shoved your journal beneath it, piling up old shoe boxes and folders of memories, pleading that it would disappear beneath all the mindless rubble and never see the light of day again.

With a sharp breath, you leant forwards, resting your forehead against the edge of the bed and letting out a panicked sob.

Someone knew of your sins.

The devilish thoughts that you’d tried so hard to entrap in your mind and refuse to come into practise had been found.

This was bad.

This was really and truly bad.

The worst thing that could’ve possibly happened to you in the world that God had blessed you with, had occurred without your knowledge, and was now unfurling before your very eyes.

You shouldn’t have thought about Alfie that way, let alone write it down and let it be known to anyone that may open your journal.

You should’ve been more careful, or maybe you shouldn’t have let yourself be corrupted.

You cupped your hand to your mouth, forcing back the gag that was threatening to release itself.

You wondered if that was the Holy Spirit trying to flee your sin-infested body. The Holy Spirit that God had trusted you to withhold and protect.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered into the air, “I’m so sorry.”

“Reader …”

You were startled from your melt down by Alfie’s voice coming from your doorway.

Looking back over your shoulder, you saw him there, in all 6’1 glory of himself.

“Hi, sorry.” You croaked, standing and wiping at your cheeks, “Did you have a film in mind?”

His eyebrows were furrowed in the softest way, not portraying anger, but concern, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” You sniffled, “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Is it because of your journal?”

“I’m sorry.” You blurted out, “I shouldn’t have said anything— Well, written anything. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m really not bothered at all, I just needed to be sure that you were okay.”

“Yeah, I, um … feel guilty, I guess.”

“For me? Or God?”

“God.” You admitted, “Sorry.”

“That’s okay.” He smiled, “Do you wanna sit and talk?”

It was there, on your bed, on your floral bedsheets, that you sat side by side with Alfie, and shared the depths of your guilt, and the heavy rules that rested firm on your shoulders, ever-lasting and never releasing you from their strict shackles. It didn’t seem to matter how many times you read the Bible and checked God’s rightful laws for you, you always seemed to miss something, or slip up in some way.

Was it possible that you were the reincarnation of Eve herself? The one who released all this agony and evil. It was always you that found your way back to sin, whether that be disobedience through your parents, a bottle of sticky, syrupy alcohol, or the lips of the man sat across from you.

It was always you.

Never someone else.

“It sounds to me like, maybe … religion isn’t for you.” Alfie sighed, staring straight at you.

“You can’t say that.” You shook your head, “That’s not true. I just keep messing up, but as long as I keep repenting and trying to be a better person, I should get better.”

“Better?” He reeled back, “Reader, you’re not sick. You’re just … you. You’re a young woman with the freedom to do whatever she wants and you—“ He exhaled deeply, “I’m not here to slam you for your faith, but you put far too much pressure on yourself. You’re a good person. I believe that, I really do. And if God can’t see that, or your dad, maybe they’re just thick.”

“Alfie!” You exclaimed.

He shrugged, “Sorry, it’s just what I believe in.”

A small smirk took over your face as you glanced up at him through your lashes, “Are you seriously pulling the belief card?”

“It’s true, no? What you believe is okay to you and what I believe is okay to me.”

You let out an airy chuckle, shaking your head, “Sure.”

“Wanna know what I believe?”

“That God isn’t real and life is meaningless so we should all just drink and have sex?”

“I mean, that wasn’t what I was going with, but sure.” He laughed, sharp fangs catching the warming light of your bedside lamp. “I was gonna say, that I believe you’re beautiful.”

Your nose scrunched up and amusement gleamed in your iris’.

“What?” He chuckled.

“Nothing, just …” You shrugged before deflating, “No one’s ever told me that before.

“Wh— no one? C’mon, darlin’, I find that hard to believe.”

“Okay, erm … Does my mum count?”

“Are you being serious?” He gaped, “No one other than your mum?”

You shook your head, pursing your lips.

“Maybe I should say it more then. Make up for all the times you should’ve been told.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“No, but I want to.”

A soft sigh escaped your lips the moment his hand came up and grazed your cheek, tucking your hair back behind your ear and bearing more of your face to his intent gaze.

“Seriously.” He whispered, “You’re one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever seen.”

You were slightly conscious that your cheeks were beginning to heat up, and he may feel the temperature change against his palm, but there wasn’t much you could do to stop it.

Maybe try and think of all the embarrassing things that’ve happened in your life.

Vomiting mid-Mass when you were thirteen?

Starting your period in the middle of maths class?

Nearly face planting the floor in front of Alfie the first day you met him?

“Reader.”

His name coming from your mouth felt angelic.

“Yeah?” You muttered, unable to find it within yourself to look up from your lap, scared that you might find his face too close to stop yourself from surging forwards.

The feeling of his breath fanning on your cheek was already there.

“Can you look at me?”

“I’m scared.” You admitted.

“Why?”

“Because I might kiss you and I don’t know if that’s good for either of us.”

Alfie chuckled.

You felt and heard it.

“Is that what you want? For us to kiss?”

Again you pursed your lips, but turned your head, glancing up at the wooden cross dangling from your wall opposite your bed.

“I don’t think He wants me to.”

He clicked his tongue, “I think he wants you to do what you feel is right, darlin’. Remember, you’re not sick. You’re just navigating life. You’re allowed to feel.”

At his words, you allowed your line of sight to fall upon his face again.

You took in his features.

Glistening green eyes and eyelashes long enough for you to be envious of. Little freckles dotted along his skin, and you wondered if the numerous girls he slept with had ever taken the time to count them.

You would’ve.

“Are you going to kiss me?” You whispered.

“If you’d let me.” He nodded, leaning just that inch closer.

“I think I’d like it.”

A slight grin appeared on his face as he slid his lips against yours, fitting them together like two missing pieces of a puzzle.

You stayed frozen like that for a moment until he moved back against you, starting a slow rhythm that you got fairly comfortable with quickly enough.

You’d be lying if you said you knew what you were doing, but Alfie didn’t seem phased by your fumbling and unsureness. In fact, it only seemed to urge him to take further control.

Both of his hands came to your face, framing them with a tender touch that had you melting against him.

When you detached, you were panting against each other's mouths before he connected your lips again, this time with more force behind it.

You didn’t mind.

It was comforting to know all of this passion was being shared with him of all people.

Ever so carefully, he hauled you closer until you were in a new position. One you’d never experienced before.

Your thighs were bracketing his hips, crotch hovering rather than resting, too afraid of the reaction you might evoke if you let it drop onto his.

He paused, large paws still delicate against your cheeks, “Is this okay?”

With an audible swallow, you nodded, “I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

A little smirk appeared on his face, partnered with a breathy chuckle, “I figured. Don’t worry. Just … tell me if it’s too much, okay?”

With an unsure smile, you nodded again, letting him piece your lips together again.

It felt like he was holding back to you. He probably wanted to rush through it and get down to the good stuff, but you were the reason why he wasn’t.

Slowly, he dragged one of his hands down from your cheek, letting it trace the side of your frame before resting on the meat of your hip.

With a firm grip, he used it as leverage to conscientiously flip you over and lower your back to the mattress.

Now that he was hovering over you in such close proximity, he felt bigger than ever. And it’s not like you weren’t aware of his general size, it was a pretty hard factor to ignore, but the compromising position you found yourself in only heightened your awareness of it.

The hand that was on your hip shifted again.

You couldn’t tell if his movements were meant to be precise and meaningful, or if he was just as overwhelmed as you and struggling to find the right place to land.

Once it fell to your chest, you understood that it was all deliberate.

Your breath hitched in your throat, and your body wasn’t sure as to whether it should arch towards his touch, or curl away from it, so instead, it froze.

He noticed it before you did, pulling back with a small frown.

“Too much?”

“What?” You panted.

“My hand on your tit. Too much? You froze.”

You nearly choked on your saliva because of the ease in which he said ‘tit’ but you recovered quickly.

“Um, I dunno. I didn’t realise I’d frozen, to be honest.”

“That’s okay. We can just keep kissing for now.”

“Sounds good.” You smiled.

The hand that was previously at your chest, shifted round to the side of your ribcage, holding just below your armpit so that his thumb could still come out and stroke along the underside of your boob. His other reached down to your thigh, taking it into his palm and hitching it up around his waist, dropping his crotch to yours.

You were shocked by the whimper you let out, having never made a sound like that in your life.

“Jesus.” He groaned, nipping at your lower lip.

The sharp edges of his fangs dug into the fat of it, making you wince a little. You expected it to hurt a lot more, but it was surprisingly slightly pleasurable.

“Alfie …” You whispered.

He hummed, a low warble that came from the back of his throat, “Yeah?”

“I— I dunno, it just felt right to say your name.” You admitted awkwardly, “Sorry.”

He grinned, “That’s okay. You can say my name as much as you want.”

The moment he licked into your mouth had you startled, because you didn’t expect it to feel so much different to regular kissing.

It was a good difference, though.

It felt like he was consuming you in all the little ways that had you trembling in excitement and anticipation.

A swipe of his thumb over your nipple had you moaning breathily.

“Holy fucking shit.” He gasped out, feeling himself hardening further.

He was concerned that you might’ve been able to feel the tent in his jeans against your inner thigh, but when he tore his mouth away from yours to watch your expression while caressing your nipple again, he realised that you were unaware of anything happening waist down.

All your attention was in his hands and tongue.

“Can you do that again?” You croaked.

“What, this?”

Of course he knew what you meant, but seeing that glistening look in your eyes and the nod of approval had his ego swelling and blood rushing to his cock.

“What about this?” He muttered, placing his other hand on your other breast and starting dual movements.

Circling both of your nipples with his thumbs at the same time had your chest shuddering beneath his touch with each shaky breath you took.

“Oh …” You breathed out, eyes fluttering shut.

“Hey, eyes on me, angel.”

With a struggle, you pried your lids open again and managed to meet his green eyes.

“There you go, atta girl.” He grinned, “That feel good?”

“So good.” You whimpered.

“Mmm, I know.”

There was a sticky warmth between your thighs that you’d never experienced before, and it had your stomach dipping into a cavern that’d never been explored in your life.

All this stuff you were finding out about yourself was due to Alfie.

Your mind was so fuzzed from pleasure that you couldn’t even piece together any words of gratification to deliver to him. Instead, all that was flowing from your lips were whimpers and moans, and the occasional hoarse whisper of his name.

“You’re so perfect.” He murmured.

Whilst continuing with the motions of his thumbs on your chest, Alfie glanced down to the situation between your legs.

The white linen nightie that you’d been adorning the entire time had ridden up your thighs, and was now a bunched mess at your hips and abdomen. It gave him a clear view of your knickers, and the damp spot showing right over where your hole was leaking for him.

He could only imagine what that looked like.

“Fuck, you’re soakin’, angel.” He managed to spew out in a singular breath, “Wish I could see it.”

“Not yet.” You shook your head, hair rustling against your patterned pillow case.

“I know, I know.” He nodded, lowering his face to your neck and busying himself at the sensitive skin there.

He knew not to do too much damage and leave some potential dark marks, because if you weren’t freaked out by this in the morning, you most certainly would be if there was evidence of your endeavours.

He couldn’t help himself as he reared his hips back before dragging them forwards against your clothed sex.

The moan that left your mouth was undeniably sexy.

It was raw, not light and airy, but heavy, and it lingered in his ears for a while after, only urging him to repeat his actions.

The stimulation at your chest and between your legs had you quite literally trembling and fumbling for him.

Your hands had found his back, and were clawing at the fabric of his shirt, scrunching it between your fingers while your sounds of pleasure flew right into his ears.

It was due to the constant grinding of his bulge against your core that the heat between your legs only licked higher and higher, burning right in your abdomen in a way that had your face screwing up and your toes curling.

“Oh— Wait, Alfie—“

“I know, I know.” He nodded, kissing up your neck and to your lips, pecking them twice before muttering against them, “Just feel it, angel.” and licking into your mouth again.

You didn’t have the brain capacity to focus on moving your lips in sync with Alfie’s and pay attention to the overwhelming dip in your stomach that had you bucking up to meet his grinding.

“Fuck, Reader.” He moaned at the physical display of your desperation.

The corners of your vision blurred, and as your body locked up and convulsed around his, clinging to him tightly, you saw light.

Experiencing this type of satisfaction from anything other than your faith felt downright sinful, and you were sure it likely was. It made sense that it would be. That type of glee was easy to acquire had you the right resources, and to get roped into it would be a dangerous stray away from God’s plan.

Had you done the wrong thing?

Had you fallen for yet another Godless temptation?

It was the wet kisses of Alfie’s lips to your cheek that had you blinking away from the heavenly light you’d witnessed at his hands.

Literally.

They pulled away from your chest, his crotch removed from yours, and Alfie rolled to the side, giving you space to collect yourself whilst also keeping an arm over your midsection.

Surely the Devil wouldn’t treat you with such care and compassion.

He wouldn’t kiss your face and tell you you were beautiful.

He’d spit on you and mock you for being so dumb. So naive.

“Hey,” Alfie whispered, pecking your jawline, “You comin’ back to me?”

With a sharp inhale, you managed to turn your head to the side and take a glance at him.

His eyes were slightly glossed over, curls sticking to his forehead due to the sweat at his hairline. But he looked heavenly.

“Hi.” You croaked.

He chuckled, eyes crinkling from amusement, “Hey.”

“Thank you.”

He seemed a little confused by your remark, but accepted it anyway, “You’re welcome. Uh, thank you, too.”

“What are you thanking me for?” You frowned.

“Letting me be the one to experience that with you. It was intense and … I dunno, it feels right to thank you for it.”

“Well,” You hummed, “I don’t really know what else to say.”

“That’s okay,” He laughed heartily, “There isn’t much to say except … You were great.”

“I was?”

There it was. The self doubt that always creeped forwards due to inexperience and living such a sheltered life despite being an adult with free autonomy to do and go wherever you pleased.

To an extent, of course.

Alfie nodded, “You were perfect. I’m really glad you just … let go.”

His praise had your lower lip wobbling and tears pricking at your eyes, “I’m not going to get into trouble, am I?”

“Your dad might have a few things to say about it, but my mouth’s shut as long as yours is.”

“Oh, gosh.” You whimpered, bringing your hands up to cover your face.

“Hey, hey,” Alfie cooed, tugging you closer and enveloping you in his arms, pressing firm kisses to the back of your head, “Talk to me, angel.”

“He’s going to be so mad at me.”

“Who? Your dad? Or God?”

“Both.” You sniffled.

“Your dad will only be mad because he’s protective of you, but he won’t find out, okay? I won’t tell anyone. What happened in this room is between you, me, and God.” Alfie reassured you, petting your hair, “And speaking of the big guy upstairs—“

His wording managed to pull a giggle from you.

“He wouldn’t have let you experience this pleasure if he didn’t believe you deserved it, or needed it.”

You peered up at him from behind your hands, “Do you really think that? Or are you just saying it to stop me from crying?”

Again, he smirked cockily, “It’s my belief.”

You scoffed, pushing away from him all while chuckling.

“Hey,” He tilted your chin up, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger, “Seriously, you were good. You are good.”

You wiped at your cheeks with the backs of your hands and huffed.

You ended up shuffling closer again, curling up into his side as both arms came back around you, holding you tight while he breathed in the scent of your shampoo.

His touch remained delicate despite the act being over and done with.

He didn’t toss you to the side or start making his way back home like you assumed he did with the other girls.

The reasoning behind his tenderness was something you couldn’t quite comprehend, but you weren’t about to start questioning it, because it felt nice to feel cared for from someone besides your parents.

It felt nice to have someone completely unrelated to you, show this much attention to the things you surrounded yourself with.

Perhaps Alfie was the new, good thing that God brought in your life for change.