Donatella:
I'm sat on the sofa in my room, reading, when I hear a knock on my door.
"Come in." I call and it opens to reveal, Darius?
"Hi." I close my book and watch as he shuts the door and walks over.
"Hey there, little ballerina."
"What are you doing here?" I ask as he takes a seat beside me and slides an arm around my waist, pressing his lips to my temple.
"I came to hang out with you." He smiles. "And I also have a question."
"A question? What question?"
He bites his bottom lip and I don't even think he registers doing it but he twirls a lock of my hair at my back. "What are you doing tonight?"
"Nothing. Why?"
"My parents want to meet you."
My eyes widen and my lips part. "They do?"
"Of course they do. They want to know the girl I've been raving about."
I feel my cheeks heat. "You talk about me?"
"Mhm." He hums, a small smile crossing his lips. "I can't help it." He knocks his nose with mine. "They should be sick of it by now but they really just want to meet you. Especially my mom."
Our heads are leaning on their sides, lying against the tops of the sofa cushions. His arm still encircles my waist and his other has seems to find its way on my thigh. I didn't even realise how close we are.
"I love these fucking lips." He murmurs, eyes trained in on my mouth.
My breath hitches. My heart skipping a beat. "You do?"
He hums again. Then, lowers his face to mine, ghosting my mouth with his.
"So fucking pretty."
My breathing is shaky as I feel the warmth of him.
And then, he kisses me.
I feel myself melt against him. And his arms tighten around me.
"So fucking perfect." He whispers before kissing me again.
I gasp when his tongue slides into my mouth. It strokes my own and a helpless whimper escapes me. His hands are hot on my body, so much so that I feel their heat through my clothes. My own clutch at the chest of his crewneck.
"So fucking mine."
The pace quickens, our movements becoming slightly hurried, though I'm not sure what for. Before I even know it, I'm on my back, him hovering above me. My hands smooth up into his hair, burying themselves in it. He lightly bites my bottom lip, sending a shiver down my spine and I suck in a breath in response.
His mouth trails down to my neck, kissing me there and I begin to register that familiar feeling I get deep in my core, right between my legs. The feeling I get when I dream of him. And not the innocent, fairytale kind.
I've never done anything with anyone. This is as far as I've gotten. He was my first kiss and that was hardly a month ago, for goodness sake. I don't know what I'm doing. But... i want to. I want to learn. I want him to teach me. I want him to...
His lips return to mine and one of his hands makes it's way under my shirt. His touch is like icy fire. It burns my skin in the best kind of way. He doesn't travel any further with it. Just keeps it around my stomach and side, scolding me.
But all of a sudden, despite the pleasure, something else creeps into the back of my head. Guilt. Uncertainty. That reminder that he forgot me once and I have yet to tell him about our past. It feels almost like a betrayal on my part. I know he cares about me now. I can feel it. See it. And I care about him, more than ever. Will he be angry with me when I tell him? Because I have to, right? I can't not.
I think he senses my nervousness because he slows the kiss. Turning it rhythmic and gentle before pulling his mouth away and pressing his forehead to mine.
"I'm- I'm sorry, I haven't- I've never-"
He chuckles and when I look up at his face, there is no irritation or disappointment in his eyes. He looks at me as he always does. Like I'm precious. Something to him.
"We'll never do anything that you're not ready for or uncomfortable with." He says, voice low and so very alluring. That voice... it lights a fire in me and could lull me to sleep at the same time. "I promise." He gives one last kiss to my nose and then rolls off of me, lying to my side. He raises his arm and gestures for me to lift. I do, going to him without a thought. Laying my head on his chest and smiling when he wraps me in his embrace. He reaches over to grab a blanket and covers us with it before fully lying down, too.
"What are we going to do now?" I ask.
"Whatever you want." He says. "We can watch something. We can sleep. We can talk."
"Talk about what?"
"Anything."
My heart grows for him a little more.
"You start."
We ended up talking for a while. About nothing. About everything. I love having this. His presence and words and attention. He's pretty. With an aura of intimidation and Ice. But he's also smart and funny and sweet and patient. It may be selfish, but I like how he only seems to show this side of himself when he's with me.
I draw in a breath as I open my eyes and glance up, seeing him fast asleep on my sofa, a soft, pink pillow her his head. The talking actually did end up in a nap.
I wonder if he'll be annoyed if I take a picture of him with that stuffed pegasus next to his shoulder.
"It's impolite to stare, little ballerina." He murmurs in that wonderful voice, eyes still closed.
My eyes widen and I lay my head back down, burying it into his chest and he laughs lowly, wrapping me tighter in his arms and hiding his face in my hair.
"Did you enjoy the view?"
I'm glad he can't see my blush. "You stare at me all the time." I mumble, the sound muffled by him.
"I do." He agrees. "I admire the sight very much indeed. I could watch you watching sunrise after sunset and still not get bored."
I blush harder.
"Are your cheeks that gorgeous shade of pink, yet? Or do I need to keep going? Perhaps something more filthy will do the trick. Like how-"
I spring up before he can finish and clap my hand over his mouth mid sentence. I don't need to see his mouth to know that he's grinning. The wicked gleam in his black eyes says it all.
He quirks a brow after a minute or so when I don't release him and I slowly ease my hand away.
"Look at that." He whispers, raising one of his own hands to my cheek, caressing my skin. "So beautiful."
"Heathen." I mutter under my breath.
He smirks. "You have no idea."