“I have a surprise for you, my dear,” Alastor said, anticipation lacing every word. “Please, follow me.” He reached towards her, offering his hand.

Amelia hesitated, but took it, allowing him to lift her from the plush chair she'd been comfortably reading in until Alastor arrived.

He silently guided her down the hallway, right to his bedroom door, which pushed open without a sound. Alastor motioned her into the room, watching her expectantly. Curious, Amelia obeyed, immediately finding the source of his mood.

“Silas,” she whispered.

“Amelia?” Silas called out, muffled by the loose gag in his mouth. His eyes were blindfolded, his wrists and ankles tied to the chair he was sitting in.

Terror and confusion battled for dominance as she stared at him, rooted to the spot. She felt more than saw Alastor approach as he laid his hands on her shoulders, whispering into her ear.

“I caught this… nuisance attempting to follow you home from the studio earlier. This is the same man who laid his hands on you, yes?”

“Yes,” she breathed. “He… how did you know about him? I've never told you,” Amelia asked with a tremble in her voice.

“Oh, I've known you for far longer than you've, known me, darling. But that's a story for another time. This moment is for you, for us.”

“What do you mean?”

Alastor stepped around her and removed Silas's blindfold. His eyes found her immediately, but they were different. They were… afraid. Pleading with her to help him. Two things she would have thought Silas incapable of — until now.

Alastor turned to face her. His eyes were dark, hungry in a way that made her stomach flip. “I believe it's time that we show Silas that you are mine, once and for all. That he will never have the pleasure of laying eyes on you again, after today.”

He stalked towards her, a predator sizing up his prey, and resumed his position behind her. She felt his body press into hers as he reached around her and began unbuttoning her shirt. Button by button he went, slowly revealing more of her black, lacy brassiere.

Amelia put her hand over his, halting his progress. “You want me to… in front of him? This can't be happening. This is a dream. It has to be.”

Alastor chuckled darkly. “This is no dream, darling—this is happening. Now, be a good girl and do as I say.” He continued unbuttoning her shirt, brushing her hands aside with ease. She shrugged it off, letting it slide down her arms and pool at her feet. His hands moved lower, unzipping her skirt and letting it fall to the floor, joining the discarded shirt.

"Alastor..." she murmured, doubt creeping into her voice as she fought the instinct to cover herself. All that remained was her lingerie—her lacy brassiere, panties, and the garter belt that held up her thigh-high stockings.

With deliberate care, he unclasped her stockings, rolling them down her legs, one by one. He helped her out of them, casually tossing them aside. Alastor stepped in front of her and took her hand, leading her to Silas, whose eyes burned with anger and jealousy as he watched her.

As they reached him, Alastor turned her around and lowered her until she was in Silas’s lap. Silas attempted to spew what seemed to be a stream of insults, but it was difficult to interpret with the gag. “I don’t like this,” she said, her eyes pleading Alastor to let her go.

“Let me help you relax,” Alastor said softly, stepping in front of her before sinking to his knees, his hands gliding around her thighs and pinning her in place. He shifted her position until she was situated diagonally in Silas’s lap, her head resting on his right shoulder, one of her legs hooked over the left arm of the chair. Then, with his eyes locked on hers, Alastor pushed her panties aside and slid his tongue inside her.

Amelia’s head fell back onto Silas’s shoulder instinctively, letting the sensation consume her. His tongue traced a slow path to her clit, swirling around it and drawing a moan from deep in her chest. His movements were greedy, intense — like he couldn’t get enough of her.