Born to die (The Fosters Brallie AU)

Chapter 9: Mine

Brandon is still sleeping next to me peacefully, and I wish I was still asleep. But a headache makes sleep seem impossible, despite the fact sleeping usually helps me get over headaches. I grab his hand even though I know he won't give me a small comforting squeeze.

"Babe? You okay?" He asks drowsily, rubbing his eyes. My eyes land on the alarm clock next to his bed. 1:30. When I don't answer, he grows worried. "Cals?"

"Wha- oh. I'm fine. I just couldn't sleep." I tell him, which is true. He relaxes, wrapping his arm around my waist.

"I'll stay up with you until you fall asleep," He whispers, and I don't argue. As much as I feel bad for being the reason why he looses sleep, it's nice to know that if I need to say something, he'll hear it. "I love you." He murmurs against my neck.

Brandon always surprises me whenever he says that. A part of me is waiting for him to change his mind, even when I know it won't happen. Brandon would never say something he doesn't mean. It's just harder for me to believe him, especially with our situation. Eventually I murmur, "I love you too, B."

I know he smiles, and presses a kiss to my forehead. "C'mon, Cals. Time for bed. Do you need me to tuck you in?"

I roll his eyes at his question, and pull the blankets tighter around us, burying my face in his chest. "Yeah, it's cold in here." I complain, and I know he frowns slightly.

"Do you want me to close the window?" He asks, concern laced in his voice. Brandon already knows that my response will be a no because according to him, the moment he tries to leave the room, I start acting like a lost puppy. I don't care if it's true- I don't want him to leave my sights- just like he doesn't me want me to leave his. But it's okay if he runs up to his room and leaves me in the living room, even if it's just for a few seconds.

"No," I say sternly. "You're gonna stay in bed with me and we're gonna go to bed. Simple as that." I tell him, pushing my hands underneath his shirt in a lame attempt to warm my hands.

"Damn, your hands are freezing!" He complains, but he doesn't move to close the window.

"Well, maybe if you closed the window before we went to bed, they wouldn't be so cold!" I respond, letting my hands slide around to his muscular back, pulling him closer to me.

"Did you plan this or something?" Brandon asks, and I shrug, and he licks his lips, smirking at me as he supports his weight on his elbows, burying his face in my neck.

"No," I manage to say, surprised by how steady my voice is. "You're just my personal space heater. You're always warm."

"Fair enough." He murmurs, catching my lips with his in a hard kiss and I wrap my arms around his neck. His body fitted against mine like it always did and his fingers began to tug at my shirt. His message is clear. Off.

I arched my back into him, pressing my breasts into his chest to take my shirt off and heard him hiss. "Go easy on me, Callie."

I laugh breathlessly, "No promises," I whisper when I dispose of my shirt.

I know that my fingers on his bare skin, and his fingers on mine ignite his senses like his touch always did to me. I come alive under his fingertips, under his lips. My body yearning for more, my mind screaming for him to never stop. And I can feel that same response in him; in the way he touches me, but I can only imagine how amplified it is for him. He groans quietly.

His lips pull away from mine, and my protest is cut of short when I feel his lips move lower. Over my jaw and down my throat in slow, torturous kisses that make me fist my hands in the sheets and arch my back off the bed. And always, always, I thought, He can feel this. He's feeling this. It was never too far away from my mind.