*** MATURE CONTENT
*** I don't own the picture, Alan or any other places/things mentioned.
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Alan steps through the double glass doors with (Y/N) following at a respectable distance behind him. That's the rule. According to his assistant, Anthony, the paparazzi are only ever interested in Alan himself. Flashes of lights go off as they pass the shouting paps. Everyone wants the perfect shot.
Stand this way, look over there, move closer, Anthony discreetly whispers instructions from behind Alan.
They enter the large hall decked out in red carpet and hanging chandeliers. Music is blaring over speakers strategically situated throughout the room and conversation is buzzing among new and old celebrity acquaintances.
It's the Golden Globes after-party.
A waiter passes with a tray and offers the couple a glass of Moët each. They gladly accept. Once inside, they don't need to act anymore. Only a few event photographers are allowed inside and they don't need to pretend in front of them.
Alan reaches behind him and takes (Y/N)'s hand then squeezes it. Pulling her closer to him, he plants a soft kiss on her cheek. He looks over her form as she scans the room over his shoulder. He has to admit she looks ravishing tonight.
She's kitted out in a burgundy form-fitting gown that accentuates her curves. Small Swarovski crystals bejewel the cinched waist and gradually disappears into the flowy skirt. Her arms look tanned and toned in the three-quarter sleeves. A tasteful amount of cleavage is seen from the front, but from where Alan's looking down, he can see a much clearer view.
Oh, how he would love to rest his face in between her soft plump bosoms. Alan smirks. He'll see to that once they return home.
He looks across the room and spots his best friend as she enters through another set of doors.
"Darling, why don't you mingle with our friends? I'm going to go greet Ruby," he says as he nudges his head in Ruby's direction.
(Y/N) looks over to Ruby and is does a double-take at what she's wearing.
Knee-length brown suede boots and a red knee-length coat or dress, she's not really sure. To say she's showing cleavage is an understatement.
The neckline of the dress is cut so low and wide that her whole bra is showing from what (Y/N) can see. A black lace balconette bra. Alan's favourite.
To be honest (Y/N) is a little reluctant to let Alan near her. She clears her throat and nods her head, planting a strong kiss on his lips. Alan is taken aback by his wife's actions and has to blink a few times.
"Sure thing, darling," she lets go of his hand and walks over to Emma Thompson standing at the buffet table.
With a plate full of hors d'oeuvres in her hand, Emma opens her arms and hugs (Y/N) in greeting.
"My God you look beautiful!" she says over-excitedly in a thick British accent as she swallows a spicy shrimp appetizer.
"You're too sweet, thank you. I like the new hair colour," (Y/N) points at Emma's arctic blonde 'do.
"Stylist's idea. It's growing on me," Emma shrugs her shoulders.
(Y/N) grabs a small plate and proceeds to add a small amount of food onto it.
"I see Ruby has made her appearance," Emma says muffled into her champagne glass.
(Y/N) turns around just in time to see her husband, her Alan, look straight down into Ruby's decolletage with raised eyebrows and wide eyes as he pulls back from their hug.
"I don't like her," (Y/N) mumbles matter-of-factly under her breath.
"I don't blame you. It always seems as if she's making a pass at Alan," Emma points out.
(Y/N) nearly chokes on her drink and coughs to cover it up. "Do you think I should be worried?" she inquires cautiously.
"Hmm.. Alan's a sweetheart. I don't think he'd do anything... consciously, that is. It's Ruby you need to look out for."
Emma places the plate on a passing tray and makes her way over to another group of people, leaving (Y/N) to ponder what she just said. Emma turns back around and winks mischievously at (Y/N).
Later during the evening, Alan makes his way back to his wife where she's in conversation with Emma Thompson, Helen Mirren, and Helena Bonham Carter. Someone must have said something funny because the group erupts with laughter and an elegant laugh leaves (Y/N)'s throat as a graceful smile adorns her face. It is the most beautiful thing Alan has ever seen.
He reaches the group and rests a hand lovingly on her bottom as he steps closer to her.
He leans down and whispers, "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. You're beautiful when you smile."
His breath tickles her ear and (Y/N) pulls her shoulder up in reflex. She blushes and a small smile crosses her features. She bites her lip. The group of dames looks on at the loving couple in awe.
"Ladies," he clears his throat and greets louder for the group to hear.
"I was wondering if I could steal my beautiful wife from your company for a moment?"
Just then Ruby makes her presence known.
"Alaaaan!" she calls out in a shrill voice causing the group and multiple other guests to turn around.
"Come over here, I need you to meet someone."
Emma looks over at (Y/N) and raises her brows. Alan lets go of her waist and strides across the room without an utter of apology. (Y/N) shuts her eyes briefly and sighs in defeat.
It seems as though every time Alan and (Y/N) want to converse alone, Ruby finds herself in the vicinity. (Y/N) has given up on trying to enjoy the evening in Alan's company, instead, she travels from group to group talking about politics, academics, other celebrities, and upcoming events. She's enjoying the evening nevertheless, catching up with old friends and meeting new ones.
But every so often (Y/N) would look across the room and catch Alan glimpsing down at Ruby's decolletage during their conversation. By glimpse number 4 she became more and more furious with her husband. Just then Kate Winslet in her cobalt blue low halter dress approached Alan.
The Lord is testing me, she shakes her head in disbelief as she throws back yet another glass of champagne. Alan wraps an arm around Kate's waist and her hand immediately found his on her hip curve. They hug in greeting.
Again, as they pull back Alan casts his eyes downward. Two photographers surround the celeb trio and flashes immediately go off.
They talk and laugh and (Y/N) wonders what the two women are saying that has Alan hanging from their lips. Jealousy slowly seeps through her body and (Y/N) is not really sure how to handle the situation. She's never been jealous nor possessive, but tonight is different.
Tonight there are two women wrapped around his sides listening intently to every word he utters. She rolls her eyes.
He could read them the phonebook and they would still cling to him, she thought.
She just wishes it was her he was wrapping his arms around. He dislikes public displays of affection, she knows this. She's accepted it. But why on earth would he not mind when it comes to other women?
Is he embarrassed about me? Am I not attracted enough? Does he not love me enough?
Kate stands on her tiptoes and places a kiss on his cheek as the photographers pass them once more. Anger and embarrassment boil inside (Y/N) and with a loud clatter her champagne glass breaks in her hand. She didn't even realise she was squeezing it that hard.
The noise attracted the stares of a few surrounding guests and a waiter quickly makes his way over with a tea towel as another one scurries to pick up the pieces from the carpet. Shocked and even more embarrassed at the staring faces, she looks down at her bleeding hand. The waiter hands her the tea towel and she wraps it gingerly around her hand. She looks up just in time to see Alan looking her way with a questioning frown settled between his brows. Anger consumes her once more and she turns around and hurriedly makes her way towards the exit.
She waits impatiently inside the rented Jaguar as the driver keeps the car idled.
"Mr. Alan..." the driver starts before (Y/N) cuts him off.
"Will make his way over shortly," she replies with a bite in her tone.
She knows the poor driver doesn't deserve the treatment, but he's just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Alan. Alan is the one who will soon experience her wrath as soon as they set foot in their home. She knows she can't say anything now. Too many eyes and ears. The last thing she wants is another tabloid printing nonsense about their private life.
Alan opens the door and buckles up as he slides in next to (Y/N). The driver takes off without asking where to. He knows when to be seen and not heard.
Alan places a loving hand on (Y/N)'s thigh as he inquires, "are you alright, love? What's the story with the champagne glass? Ruby said you cut your hand."
She immediately jerks her leg out of his grasp causing his hand to slip from her thigh.
"Then maybe you should ask Ruby what the story with the champagne glass is," she bites and crosses her arms over her chest, looking out the window at the passing night scene. It should be around 1 am by now.
"Something I did?" Alan asks innocently.
Fury builds inside (Y/N) and she feels she's about to explode.
How stupid can he be? Moreover, how stupid does he think I am? She gives him an incredulous deathly stare.
"We'll discuss this at home."
(Y/N) doesn't even wait for the driver or Alan to open her side of the car door. She harshly pulls on the handle, exits, then storms off into the direction of the house.
Once inside she makes her way over to the kitchen sink and runs her hand under lukewarm water. She dries her hand on the Golden Globes' tea towel and inspects it thoroughly. She can't see any need for stitches or bandages and figures the glass must've just knicked her.
As she's about to turn she hears Alan shutting the front door. He walks intently over to her in the kitchen and crosses his arms.
"Well. We're home," he demands with arms crossed.
"You still don't know, do you?" she asks incredulously and throws her arms in the air in frustration.
"Darling, I'm afraid I have no idea what you're on about."
"Don't you darling me, Alan Sydney Patrick Rickman! What's going on between you and Ruby Wax?"
"Excuse me?! I don't like what you're suggesting," he bites back not liking the insinuation his wife is making.
"You heard me damn clear! You two seem to enjoy each other's company. So much so, in fact, that there wasn't even a time where we could catch up," she gestures between the two of them.
"You might as well just have taken her as your plus one."
"She's just a friend. My best friend and you know that, (Y/N)," he defends.
"Well, you have a very funny way of showing it," (Y/N) starts raising her voice.
"How do you mean?" he inquires demanding as he pulls his eyebrows together in a questioning manner.
"Oh please! Don't think I didn't see you stealing a look at her or Kate's breasts. Multiple times, I might add. Do yourself a favour and Google search Alan and wife."
He knows what comes up and sighs in frustrating defeat.
"Yeah, that's right. I'm always in your shadow, staying exactly 6 feet away at all times. And before you start," she holds up a finger in front of her face before she continues.
"It's not about the fame. It's about you showing the world where your loyalties lie. There's not one fucking photo of us kissing, or holding hands or even just touching each other. Not one. ALAN!" Tears start to escape her eyes and roll down her cheeks.
"Yet, you appear in over God knows how many photos alongside fellow actresses, friends, and fans with your arms wrapped around their waists. Or holding hands. Or kissing them. Why is that? Why them and not me, hm?" (Y/N) is close to shouting at this point and Alan knows he has to tread lightly.
In an act of confidence, he raises his voice and asks, "do I do this with fellow actresses?!"
He rushes forward and roughly crashes his lips against hers. She pulls back and looks exasperated.
"I distinctly remember you kissing Norman Reedus more passionately than that!" With that, she storms upstairs to their bedroom.
She has already pulled down the gown's side zipper on her way up the stairs. As she enters their bedroom, she tugs and pulls at her gown and frustratingly pulls it over her head. Burgundy waves pools around her ankles and as much as she wants to kick it to the side and leave it on the floor for the night, she knows just how expensive it was, bends down and picks it up. She jerks a hanger from her walk-in closet and proceeds to hang and put the dress away in the far back.
Alan rushes into the bedroom with his tie loosened and jacket discarded.
"(Y/N). (Y/N)!" he shouts when he doesn't see his wife in the room.
She emerges from the walk-in closet and Alan's breath hitches in his throat. She's sporting a black lace thong with a matching black lace balconette bra which accentuates her plump breasts. His favourite.
She's also still in her black Manolo Blahnik heels that show off the curves of her hips and calves.
Now is not the time, he thought as he can feel his member twitch.
She walks over to the dresser and steadies herself against it as she takes off the killer heels.
"Don't walk away from me when I am talking to you!" he scolds.
"Or what, Alan?" she scoffs.
"Where's your ring, by the way?" she folds her arms across her chest and it further pushes her breasts on display.
"You know damn well I can't wear it while filming," he retorts angrily raising his voice.
"And besides, I have it on my person at all times."
"Oh really? So you just happen to have an identical wedding band which I found lying on the bookshelf?!" She yells at his audacity to lie to her in her face.
He falters. She's got him there. He had taken it off one night and completely forgot where he had put it.
"That's beside the point. The point is -" he starts.
She cuts him off, "the point is that you are clearly uncomfortable to show the world you're wedded and clearly too embarrassed to have me at your side."
Her voice is raised and her arms are flailing in the air as she speaks. Fresh tears start to form in (Y/N)'s eyes and she can barely finish the last part of the sentence. She looks down at the floor and shifts her weight from one foot to the next.
Something clicks in his mind and he continues, "so that's what this is all about? You are insecure about your looks."
He meant to sound sincere and empathetic, but it came out wrong. She lifts her hand and slaps his cheek hard in one swift movement.
"How dare you?!" Anger contorts her features and tears stream down her face.
"How dare you make me feel like I'm the one in the wrong? Clearly, you're the one too disgusted by my overweight lump of a body to be seen together in public with," she hits his chest with her palm as she cries.
She hits and hits and hits him again. Alan knows he's touched a nerve and that this is not his wife. She's usually confident and self-assured. She walks with an aura of importance and she demands respect wherever she goes, regardless of her weight. It's one of the things that attracted him to her in the first place. That and her smile. Her smile can melt away his problems as soon as she looks at him. Along with her straight pearl white teeth and two dimples on either side of her full heart-shaped lips.
Her body itself is something Alan's always found extremely enticing. Stretch marks adorn her abdomen, hips, and buttocks. But he's never minded. He prefers a plumper body to a thin plank. He's mapped every beauty spot, scar and stretch mark on her body. He wouldn't have if he wasn't completely in love with her as a whole.
Surely she must know that.
A stronger hit against his chest pulls him from his thoughts as (Y/N) is still going at him physically. She's trying to release her frustration, he knows. He pulls her closer and wraps his arms around her body, but she tries to protest, grunting, and still getting in a hit or two. He squeezes her tighter until she reluctantly relaxes against him and only her heavy breathing and soft cries can be heard.
After a while, Alan can feel (Y/N) burying her face deeper into his chest and wrapping her arms tighter around his body as if she's clinging on for dear life.
He feels her body tense as she muffles, "why are you still with me?"
Alan is taken aback by her question and blinks a few times as he tries to understand what his wife is trying to say. He pulls back from their embrace, gently encasing her face with his two large tubby hands. He looks at her intently. She doesn't even look like she has been crying - apart from her slightly puffy eyes, her make up is still perfectly in place and Alan wonders if it's the waterproof mascara she uses or the setting spray. Probably both.
He stares deeply into her chocolate brown eyes as if trying to reach into her soul to make her understand his love for her.
"I'll show you," he leans down and gently kisses her fleshy lips.
He pulls back only millimeters resting their foreheads together and (Y/N) can feel Alan's breath on her mouth as he speaks.
"Darling, five years ago I chose you and no one else. Today I still choose you and no one else. I wish you could see what I see when I look at you. I don't see you for your physical appearance, although I do have to hide a boner every time I think about you."
They both lightly chuckle and she playfully hits him on his chest before slinging her arms around his neck and tightening their embrace. Alan clasps his hands behind her back and lightly rests them on the curve of her bottom.
"I see you for who you really are. A kind loving woman, who works her arse off, who always puts everyone else's needs before her own. Your love is so pure that I don't think something similar exists on this earth. I should be the one asking why in heaven's name you decided to pick me?"
"Oh, Alan," she closes the small gap and kisses him gently and Alan can feel the love emitting from her touch.
They pull back again and both sigh in content. He unclasps his hands to tenderly tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
He leans closer to her ear and whispers lovingly, "allow me to show you tonight just how much I really love you."
He lifts her chin up with his finger and proceeds to kiss her slowly. Tonight he doesn't want rough or passionate. Tonight he wants to make love to his wife until she realises that there can only be one woman for him.
He walks her backward toward the bed and gently lies her down on top of it. He crawls over her and rests his one leg between her parted legs as he continues to claim her lips.
He is still fully dressed, apart from his jacket. (Y/N) slowly and delicately undoes the buttons of his crisp white dress shirt and removes it by tugging it from his broad shoulders. Her hands rake softly over his exposed back, shoulders and rest against his chest. Alan is not built, but pudgy except for hi pecks which are firm and defined. The muscles in his strong arms still show evidence of his earlier days spent working out in the gym.
He rakes his fingers up and down her sides, sending vibrating tingles through her body. She moans into his mouth and he smirks knowing what his touch does to her. He plants a kiss next to her mouth and proceeds to kiss down her square-shaped jaw, down her neck and reaches her soft spot near her collar bone.
He lingers before he continues his journey of kisses down each arm, gently pulling her bra straps down as he goes along. He kisses down her collarbone and travels down to her chest area. He kisses the top parts of her fleshy breast spillage exposed by the bra and deftly unhooks the little mechanism nestled between her bosoms. As the bra comes undone and falls to the sides, Alan can only pull back and stare at her beauty.
Light pink areolas adorn her sagging lumps of breasts. His touch from earlier paired with the cold air that tickles her skin, makes her tight buds stand erect. She covers her breasts with her arms shyly.
"No, don't. You're beautiful," Alan whispers as he reaches to unhook her arms.
He leans down and sucks gently on the exquisite buds. After spending equal attention to each breast he travels further down her stomach, kissing her naval. He hooks two fingers under the sides of her thong and pulls it slowly down her legs, discarding it on the bedroom floor.
She sits up and reaches for his belt and zipper, undoes his pants and slides it off his form along with his underwear. (Y/N) has no doubt in her mind Alan finds her attractive, judging by his massive erection. He places his two hands on her shoulders and firmly presses her down onto the bed. He lays on top of her completely covering her body. He nibbles on her ear as he situates himself between her legs.
He looks lovingly into her eyes and slowly inserts himself. A breathy gasp leaves her mouth at the contact. Their hands continue to explore each other's bodies as they fall into a slow rhythm with each thrust. Their bodies are extremely responsive to each other and soon they both start to feel the heat building between them.
Alan pulls back and stares earnestly into his wife's eyes as he utters with raggedy breaths, "You're the one that I want." Thrust. "You're the one that I chose." Thrust. "You're the one I come home to." Thrust. "You're the one I make love to." Thrust. "You're the one I love." Thrust.
The love and adoration in his words are tangible and (Y/N) can feel that Alan means everything he says. The smoldering way he looks at her as if trying to show her what is going on in his mind, trying to show her just how much he loves her is enough to make her ovaries explode.
"I love you, (Y/N) Rickman."
And with one last gentle thrust fireworks explode between the couple as they both reach climax at the same time. (Y/N) and Alan grunt each other's names and cling onto each other as they ride out their orgasms. After both lay spent, (Y/N) snuggles up to her husband's side and looks up to his smiling face.
"I love you, Alan Rickman."
He throws an arm around her form, leans down, and kisses her one last time before pulling the comforter over their bodies. They both close their eyes in content as sleep overcomes them.
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A/N:
You guys! You're reading and voting and commenting. Thank you, thank you! I want to dedicate this one-shot to Ruthexotic who was the first to read and vote. She also left me my first comment the other day that genuinely made my day. Thank you, dear, for your kind words of encouragement.
I hope you guys enjoy the stories so far. On a side note, I just want to say that none of the stories follow on each other. That's why the ages or timeline don't align.
H💁🏻♀️