When Sabrina woke up, sunlight was just beginning to shine through the window. She felt exhausted. Her limbs ached, and her skin was sticky with sweat. She couldn't have wished for a more perfect day.
Everything was peaceful. Strong but gentle fingers ran through her hair. Memories of the previous evening flooded her mind, and a lazy smile appeared on her face.
"Good morning," she whispered.
"It certainly is that."
She hummed her agreement, "How long have you been awake?"
"Not long," he informed her. His voice was deeper than usual, still husky from sleep, and it confirmed his statement.
She blinked away the last remnants of sleep from her hazy eyes, "You could've woken me up."
"And deprive you of your well-deserved rest?" Caliban asked incredulously, "I think not."
She playfully smacked him on the shoulder, and he laughed in response. It sounded lower than usual, and she bit her lip. Somehow, his laugh sounded even sexier than normal. It was downright sinful, and she was looking forward to waking up with him more often.
Her hand was still on his shoulder, and she noticed something strange. Red lines stained his skin. She placed each one of her fingers on them. They lined up perfectly. She stroked them softly as if she was trying to make up for the pain she had caused.
"You have nothing to be sorry for."
Her eyes flickered up to meet his, "I didn't hurt you?"
He pressed a reassuring kiss to her cheek, "Hardly, Princess, but you're more than welcome to."
"Is that what you want?" she asked, daring to put the slightest bit of pressure on the marks, "For me to hurt you?"
It wasn't a surprise, not when she could recall every low, primal sound that left him when her hands tangled in his hair or the way his thrusts faltered when her nails grasped for a new place of purchase on his back.
She could do it; she could crawl into his lap, sink her teeth into the skin of his neck, and rake bright scratches down his chest while his fingers pressed bruises into her hips.
He gently ran his fingers along the outside of her thigh, and she realized that she had unconsciously pressed them together. "I would, but what about yourself? What does your heart desire, Sabrina?"
She responded without hesitation, "Everything."
That was what she had always wanted. She devoured everything she was given, like food to the starved. Licked the remnants from her fingers and reached for seconds. No matter how much she consumed; it was never enough. One day she asked Zelda why. Why the gaping maw inside of her was never full. Zelda told her that only fools were satisfied, and Spellmans were not fools.
Ambrose then preceded to lecture her on Utilitarianism. The difference between higher and lower pleasures, and how the greater the intellectual capacity, the deeper and more complex the craving was, therefore the harder it was to satisfy. A fool, for example, had a very small intellectual capacity, therefore no craving for things he called 'the pleasures of intellect.' Things like art, music, and education. Fools, he said, only indulged in pleasures of mere sensation; food, drink, sex, and so forth.
Those were all wonderful things, on that she and Ambrose could agree, but Sabrina wanted more, and she had it here. Caliban held her, listened to her, talked to her. In his desire to keep her safe, he brought her home, into his bed, and he seemed eager to indulge in whatever form of debauchery she could come up with.
"Where should we begin?" Caliban asked.
She grinned and thought back to her earlier fantasy, "I have a few ideas. What about you? Any suggestions?"
His face lit up in a smile that matched her own, and he licked his lips, "Plenty."
And so, they shared their thoughts. Shared ideas, fantasies, dreams. They traded caresses, memories, hopes for the future, and made love as the sun rose to take its rightful place in the sky.
Sabrina was certain that Caliban could make a map of all of the pleasure spots on her body. She felt as though he had touched every part of her, but his hands still roamed over every inch of skin like it was something new and exciting. He practically worshipped her. She didn't think anything had ever felt so heavenly.
She discovered as much about him as he did about her. He liked to be face-to-face. He liked to watch as all of her control slipped, leaving her in a completely pleasure-drunk state. Being face-to-face also meant he could steal her panting breaths in bruising kisses and whisper the sweetest things in her ear. If he couldn't have that, he would just hold her hand. The sweetness of it all tugged at her heartstrings, and she almost told him that she loved him right then.
But she didn't. If he didn't reciprocate it would ruin the moment, but something told her that he did or, at the very least, he could. He had told her that he adored her several times over. He had breathed it out between kisses, and groaned it out as she sunk into his lap.
An endless stream of pretty words from a pretty mouth that seemed to bring her wave after wave of pleasure. He was really, really good with his tongue. It didn't hurt that he seemed to get off on going down on her as much as she enjoyed him doing it.
Despite being a bottomless pit of cravings and desires, she felt strangely satisfied. She could get used to feeling full, at least temporarily. Once her body regained its strength, and her mind pulled itself from its hazy, blissful state, she would crave something else. She would have some other desire or need or want, but all of those desires would revolve around him. Even now, she wanted nothing more than to lay in bed with him for as long as possible.
With Caliban, Sabrina understood the true meaning of afterglow. Her mind was hazy, and every nerve in her body was alight. They exchanged lazy smiles and even lazier kisses. When she curled up against his chest, she was practically purring like a kitten.
It took a lot of effort, due to her lack of energy, but she managed to tell him that she was happy when she was with him. It wasn't an 'I love you,' but it was pretty close, and it was all she could muster before sinking back into the welcoming arms of sleep.
It was quiet and peaceful in the land of her dreams, and she had no complaints about leaving them for the waking world because reality was better than anything she could dream up.
Caliban's face was peaceful when he slept. There were no signs of stress or any other form of discontentment. It made her wonder if he was dreaming. Oh, what she would give to know what was happening in his dream world. Perhaps she was there.
She discovered that she quite liked that idea. She pulled his sheets tighter to her body and moved closer to him. They had drifted apart slightly during their rest, but his arm remained loosely draped over her waist.
The sun was starting to set which meant the air was starting to cool. His skin was warm, and his lips were too great a temptation to resist. Slowly, she leaned down to press her lips to his. Strands of her white hair fell over her face and the very ends caressed his cheek.
It was meant to be chaste. A soft brush of her lips against his, but a hand came up to push her hair behind her ear before curving around her neck to hold her close.
Sabrina felt herself smile as Caliban's tongue slipped past her lips.
It remained even after the kiss was over, and she settled herself onto his chest.
"Hi."
"Hi," she whispered back.
"You're awake."
She nodded, "I'm hungry."
"Lunch does sound appealing," he agreed.
"Dinner," she corrected, "It's closer to dinner-time."
He cast a glance over her shoulder and took in the slowly setting sun, "What should we have for dinner then, Princess?"
"I'm thinking... breakfast."
"'Bacon? Eggs?"' he suggested.
She shook her head and shivered as he began tracing patterns on her bare shoulder. Absentmindedly, her fingers toyed with a strand of his tangled, golden hair. It was fair to assume that hers wasn't much better, but she couldn't bring herself to care.
"Blueberry pancakes."
"Blueberry?"
"They're the best," she insisted.
"I'll take your word for it."
Neither one of them moved to get up. Well, Sabrina reasoned, he couldn't get up even if he wanted to because she was still half-laying on top of him. It took an incredible amount of strength to push herself off of him, and if she wasn't hungry there was absolutely no way in Hell that she would've done it.
She watched as he rummaged through his dresser for clothes, and lamented the loss of the sight of his bare skin beneath jeans and a t-shirt.
"I forgot my bag in the other room."
He audibly sighed, "You're not coming with me, Princess. It's far too dangerous for you to be seen."
"I know," she said, even though she felt like he's leaving out the most important part. It was far too dangerous to be seen with him. It would be too great a risk. The idea of something happening to him was just unbearable. So, she would stay. "But, I need a shower, and no amount of conditioner is going to help if I don't at least try to brush my hair."
"Fucking hell, Princess, how do you expect me to leave with the image of you in my shower in my head?"
Despite her best efforts to suppress it, she blushed. After everything they had shared, he could still make her feel like it was all brand new, "Because showering with someone always seems like a better idea before you're actually doing it?"
"So, what your saying is there is no possible way I can convince you to wait on that shower until I return?"
"Tempting," and it was. The mental image of water droplets flowing down his toned chest was almost too much to bear, but there came a time when a girl just had to wash her hair in peace. Although, her hair wasn't much longer than his, and he would probably wash it for her if she asked, "But with our height difference? That is a workout I do not have the energy for since I'm actually starving."
He chuckled, "Fair enough, but do I at least get a goodbye kiss?"
She smiled, "Of course."
Her hands reached up, greedy, and grasped at the collar of his shirt to pull his lips to hers. His mouth was warm and so were his hands. They clung to the bare skin of her back, and the contrast of him being fully clothed while she's bare underneath his cotton sheets struck her in a way that she hadn't been prepared for. She broke the kiss to place kisses along his jaw.
In between sharp breaths, he informed her that there were towels under the sink, that he'd leave his number by the phone, and to keep the curtains drawn. She hummed her acknowledgment every once in a while.
"I was right," he said, "That night on the porch."
She pulled back, slightly confused, "Right about what?"
"Parting with you is just..."
He didn't finish his sentence, but he didn't need to. She understood, and she remembered what he said. He'd said it outside of the diner, too. Parting is such sweet sorrow, Shakespeare had hit the nail on the head with that one, "It feels the same, watching you walk away from me."
He kissed her gently once more, "I'll be back soon, my love."
"I'll be waiting."
She stared after him as he left. She didn't move again until she heard the door shut behind him and the roar of his motorcycle's engine come to life.
When she did move it was to flop back onto the warmth of his mattress. The sheets smelled like him- them, and she giggled. She couldn't help it. Everything was just so wonderful. She was in Louisiana, just shy of her twentieth birthday, and she was in love. The moment he called her 'my love' every fiber in her body turned to mush. She loved him, and he loved her back.
It didn't even matter that this whole journey started with her running for her life, or that her biological father was a narcissist. None of that mattered here. She was in love, and she felt just fucking peachy.
It was a while before her laughter died down, but her smile never wavered.
It took a herculean effort to remove herself from the bed and head to the spare to retrieve her things. There was no point in leaving any of it there, so she brought it with her and dropped it at the foot of his bed. If she had her way, she would never sleep without him, ever again.
She showered in cool water, unsure that her body could take any more blistering heat. It was also better for her bleach-treated hair, just like that fancy purple shampoo stuff she had invested in. She ended up using his soap, simply because she could. It evoked a similar feeling to wearing your paramour's jacket or oversized shirt.
Clothes were another matter entirely. They just seemed redundant. It was late, she wasn't going anywhere, and she was probably going to end up without them on at the end of the night, if the way he spoke to her before his departure was anything to go by.
Although, the idea of her putting on clothes just so he could undress her later did have a certain appeal. So, she just decided to do it. She picked out a top with lots of buttons. She felt positively smug as she did them up. Love bites were hidden away under silky fabric like they were her most precious of treasures.
Even slipping on ankle boots over the cuffs of her back jeans sent a thrill through her. There was no ignoring the pep in her step as she made her way to the kitchen for a glass of water.
Drinking cool water on an empty stomach was like filling a hollow well. It was like rain in the desert, and it only served to remind her of just how hungry she really was.
The phone ringing from the living room caught her attention, and she went to answer it.
"Cali-"
"I'm afraid my brother won't be back any time soon."
She didn't recognize the male voice on the other end of the line, "You've got the wrong number."
"I disagree, Ms. Morningstar."
She clutched the glass of water even tighter, "Who is this?"
The strange man chuckled, "Caliban didn't tell you about me? His own flesh and blood? That just breaks my little =heart."
She racked her brain for who this could be. He had that he was his brother, but Caliban had three brothers. Two were in prison. They could've gotten out, but Caliban had made it seem like that was unlikely. That only left one option.
"Asmodeus."
"Right on the money, Ms. Morningstar," he confirmed, "Your father sent me to retrieve you."
Just like that, her perfect little bubble burst. All because her father had decided it was time for her to claim her birthright.