[ Alan himself believes he's hardly impressive. He's just a writer, just another man, and while he has his share of fans and had a relationship with his wife, he's never really thought of himself as anything particularly special. He doesn't make a habit of putting himself down, but he just thinks of himself as your average, every day person who happens to be a writer.
And right now, the writer is completely fine with being just Alan Wake.
He wants to feel her, to feel alive and human and normal, as opposed to someone who's been swept up in a story that's wild and out of his control in a lot of ways. He wants her to feel normal too: like someone who's loved and wanted and cared for.
He can tell she's responding to his attention, and when she presses into him, wrapping one arm around him while the other hand goes to brush his hair, he feels himself respond even more. Her breath is warm against his face but he doesn't mind. He feels her hips meeting with his, aligning with his, and he rotates his hips slightly against hers even as he moves up and then down again, still pressing himself into her. ]
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And right now, the writer is completely fine with being just Alan Wake.
He wants to feel her, to feel alive and human and normal, as opposed to someone who's been swept up in a story that's wild and out of his control in a lot of ways. He wants her to feel normal too: like someone who's loved and wanted and cared for.
He can tell she's responding to his attention, and when she presses into him, wrapping one arm around him while the other hand goes to brush his hair, he feels himself respond even more. Her breath is warm against his face but he doesn't mind. He feels her hips meeting with his, aligning with his, and he rotates his hips slightly against hers even as he moves up and then down again, still pressing himself into her. ]