Fire. All I could think about was fire. It was whisking through my veins and searing it's way through my mind. There was a reason my body craved his. There was a reason that he haunted my dreams and my reality. He was the first person to do it. I'd been shut down for years, just going through the motions. But now... now he made me feel alive.
Darien Grace
I'd forgotten what it was like to actually feel— to not just pretend that the shadows of emotions and sensations I was forced to endure were reality. That outside of myself there were fully functioning individuals that got to experience the full spectrum of human sensation... It was impossible to compute and it just made the numbness worse.
Ironically, sex was the only thing that helped maintain the fantasy that I was normal— that I wasn't as damaged and broken as my childhood had left me. Sex helped me to feel something and at this point I was willing to take anything I could get. I knew the image I'd earned for myself. I knew that half of the people I'd slept with didn't give a single shit about me and that they only saw me as a cheap fuck, but I didn't care. If promiscuity was the price I had to bare for basic humanity, then so be it.
Greg was hands down my longest relationship. I knew that he loved me; I could see it in his eyes whenever he looked at me, I could hear it in his voice, and sometimes, just sometimes I got the slightest notion that I could feel it in the way we touched. I knew that he still loved me, even after all the shit we went through. He was the closest I'd ever come to normal and I think that's why I had held on for as long as I did. I'd thought that, maybe one day, I'd be able to feel the same way about him. He was my first real model for romantic love.
Stephen was... he was post Greg and the string of one nighters that had followed. He was there to help me pick up the pieces of my shattered hopes. As far as the outside world knew, I'd been the one to brake up with Greg, but that wasn't the truth. He'd needed more from me— more than I would ever be able to give. When he finally realized how emotionally devoid I actually was, things began to fall apart. He wasn't around as much and I was drinking more and more. If I couldn't have emotions and sensation, I would take the numbing detachment a bottle gave. Why feel shadows when you knew that they only paled in comparison to the full spectrum? I embraced the emptiness. It was liberating.
Stephen had cleaned me up; he made me go see the campus shrinks and helped me through sobriety. It wasn't pretty, but he'd stayed with me.
When he'd found Petre, I was mad. Sure, I was fucking livid, but not at him. I was mad at myself for growing attached and not seeing the signs. I was dating, hell, I was fucking a gay guy. No wonder he took forever to come. He had no motivation. I could go out and buy the hottest fucking lingerie and he'd stay all limp and sad. I'd constantly been forced to spend the night with my neat little battery powered friend. It was ridiculous. I wanted to go back in time and slap the living shit out of myself.
But now... now it was hard to breathe. I hadn't expected the intensity, the bone shattering weight of it all. My entire body was a live wire and I was being assaulted by the most delectable sensations I could never imagine— I hadn't known that they existed. Fire took over everything; it filled my mind, body, and soul, completely searing away every last trace of the numbness inside of me and replacing it with Him. There was no way in hell that I was letting go of this—University be damned.
Everywhere we touched an inferno erupted, ripping all of the air from my lungs leaving me wanting, needing. I clung to him willing the contact between us to take me away, to give me at least a brief solace from the depravity waiting for me in my thoughts and memories. I'd never known that sex could be so explosive and enrapturing.
My lips molded perfectly to his, our tongues dancing in an aphrodisiacal pattern. I wound my fingers into his hair, pulling on the soft strands causing him to emit a low, vibrating moan into my mouth. I swallowed the sounds—my body already craving release. His lips left mine, trailing fire down my jaw and neckline. His hands roughly yanked me out of my leather jacket, exploring the now exposed skin along my arms and back.
"I wanted to peel this dress off of you the instant I walked into that kitchen," he growled out, his hot breath fanning out over my hyper sensitized skin. His hands traced the contours of my body over the thin gauzy fabric of my dress. Muscles clenched deep in my stomach as skin met skin and his hands began to travel north. Old callouses scraped the flesh of my upper thighs, his hands raising the fabric of my dress.
"Why didn't you?" I gasped, my usual seductive ease completely abandoning me.
"I opted for self-control." He flipped us suddenly pinning me against the altar.
"I've never been one to indulge the Fruits of the Spirit," I laughed, breaking away so that he could pull the wispy fabric of my dress over my head. His eyes darkened as he dropped the dress to the ground beside him, his eyes never leaving my exposed body.
I couldn't help but marvel at the irony that we were about to fuck in a Catholic marriage chapel. I knew for a fact that devout Catholics, actually Christians in general, were steadily against sex before marriage. I was sure that they'd want me to burn me at the stake to cleanse the world of my sinful influence. Now, that would be a sight.
I'd never understood the appeal of a religion with set sacraments. My personal beliefs were more deist than that. Sure, there was something out there, something bigger than all of us ,but it wasn't there to coddle us or to look after us. It had left us here to do with our lives what we saw fit.
When I was little, I was a firm creationist— those beliefs were the result of a then stable home-life, but after everything that happened, Christianity just had no appeal to me. If their merciful and loving God truly existed to care for us, then shouldn't he have done something to fix the shit-show I was living in? Shouldn't he have been there to rescue me? Shouldn't he have been there to stop him? It all was just too ridiculous for me to even consider, anymore. Would their just God let a child lose their mother? Would he just sit back while alcoholism stole the only family she had left? I couldn't accept that.
When Caleb and John took me in, I accepted their religion as a mercy to them. I wasn't going to burden them with my disbelief and my doubts. When they asked me if I believed in God my reply was one that I'd come to be quite familiar with.
"Yes, I believe that there is a God."
They hadn't caught the double meaning and I hadn't felt the need to elaborate. I had a solid home with two caring, but eccentric, father figures. Life was better, so I didn't care. They let me fuck around as long as I came to church with them every once in a while. I felt bad pretending, but, hell, it was a small price to pay for family.
"I feel like he's watching me," he laughed, his dark eyes flicking up to the crucifix hanging on the wall behind us. The pained and knowing gaze of the Christian Savior seemed to capture everything within the chapel— our little sacrilegious act taking place right under his nose.
"They all are," I teased, glancing around at the various saints and religious beings depicted in the stained glass filling each and every wall, "But this is no time for performance anxiety, got it?" My grin must have been infectious because his lips quirked up in a smile. His eyes took on their own wicked gleam as they raked over my bare chest, skimpy lace panties and everything in between.
"Enjoying the view?" I smirked, purposefully biting my lip, my fingers deftly popping the buttons of his shirt and making their way to his belt.
"It is ravishing."
Stella was instantly soaked, the tone of his voice had her begging for him.
"Well then, ravish away, Professor," I purred, guiding his long, skilled fingers to where I needed him most. Instantly, he dropped to his knees, the entire motion full of graceful fluidity.
"You smell amazing, Darien." I swore. I nearly came then and there; I wanted to scream, this man was delicious. The image of him kneeling between my legs, tawny eyes looking up at me through impossibly long lashes, and those words... I'd never known the darling professor to be a fan of dirty talk. He was full of surprises.
Never in my life had I been a fan of debasement, but at this very second the image of him pounding into me from behind, his calloused hand leaving pink marks all over my ass and his voice hurling dirty little things at me through fractured breaths filled my mind and left me gasping for air. I was suddenly very keen on the idea of having him curse at me as he came undone, crying out things like "slut" and "whore". The entire scenario was erotic and aphrodisiacal; I'd never wanted anything more. This man had a dark side that I was far too eager to entertain.
Shockwaves rocketed through Stella as he ran the tip of his nose up and down along her length over the sheer fabric of my underwear, his long fingers tracing red paths in the flesh of my thighs with his nails. Pleasurable pain, who would have thought.
"You're soaking," he marveled, sending a thrill throughout my entire body as he inserted two fingers into me. He swirled them around before retracting them.
Stella was howling, screaming at him, There's legitimate a reason! Now, GET IT IN!
"Please tell me you have one." I was practically panting.
"I do, but we're not going to use it." What the actual fuck. "We're going to try something else." Where did his sudden desire for control come from? What the hell made him think that he got a choice in what happened and how it happened?
"You do realize that if you leave me hanging I will kill you." My voice was like hammered steal, it was a tone that sent most everyone running for the hills— law enforcement included.
"Oh, I know."
"You will never even have a chance at reproduction. I will turn you into a eunuch."
"I am well aware, Miss Grace."
"You're seriously willing to put those cards on the table? You're that confident with your hand?"
"In both senses of the word, yes. I am very confident." I almost wanted to applaud him for his double entendre.
"Then quit with the fucking foreplay," I challenged, instead. I was dripping and ready to rip all of his hair from his head. Cocky bastard.
He just grinned at me, "Patience is a virtue."
"Do I really look like the type of girl that gives a fuck about virtue? I lost mine when I was fourteen."
"You're going to need to be quiet now. Class is in session." Holy. Fuck. That was hot. I swore my jaw was on the ground somewhere on the other side of the planet. He just smirked at me before hooking his fingers under the band of my panties and sliding them down my legs. Watching me the entire time, he brought them up to his nose and inhaled deeply. His eyes fluttered closed, carnality coloring his expression. I almost came on the spot. Holy mother fuck me. I watched him with open amazement as his eyes opened; his pupils had dilated magnificently, the gold in his eyes completely eclipsed by desire. He shot me a wicked smirk before folding my thong up and shoving it into his pocket. "This will go so nicely with the little collection I've started."
"I didn't say that you could keep those," I breathed, completely enraptured by the man in front of me.
"And I told you to be quiet. You wouldn't want a low mark, now would you?" I gaped at him. His little power trip was sexy as fuck, but all of his pointless suspense was driving me toward the brink of insanity.
Instead of yelling at him like I would have liked to, I settled for rolling my eyes, "I'll take a low mark if it means that you'll be the one to punish me."
"How low do you plan on scoring?"
"I'll do what I need to in order to get what I want, but I think we have strayed off topic, Sir. Care to refocus?" I quipped, taking hold of his already sex-styled hair and angling his head back down where it was desperately needed.
"Miss Grace, you'll find that I am quite proficient in multitasking."
"What happened to the 'show' in 'show and tell'?"
"Anticipation," he murmured, grinning wildly, hazel eyes sparking with an unexpected emotion. Before I could even think of another snarky response, pleasure shot through my entire body. He'd finally relinquished his hand, his cards now spread out openly on the table. His sinful, sinful mouth was doing sacrilegious things to my body making me run full tilt towards the edge. Running, sprinting, careening...
"—And this is the Lady Chapel, we hold all of our marriage ceremonies here and weekday mass. It's open now if you'd like to go and take a look around." A voice drifted in from the hall through the closed doors.
"Fuck!" He cursed, immediately jumping to his feet. My dress was thrown into my flushed face and I was brought crashing back to earth in the absolute worst way. I had been a fraction of a second away from the orgasm that would have made my day and he had fucking stopped.
"Why the fuck did you stop?" I growled, the tone of my voice rising as my frustration reared back and slammed into me with the force of a 747. He didn't say anything, panic filling his eyes. There was a creak from the door as someone struggled to open it.
"I'm sorry, the doors stick sometimes," the voice apologized and I paled. We were almost just caught fucking in a church— in the fucking wedding chapel for Christ's sake.
"I knew this was a bad idea!" His eyes were wide, his breathing shallow. His hands tangled in that glorious sex mussed mop of hair. It was obvious that he was five seconds away from having a full on panic attack.
"Calm the fuck down!" I hissed, yanking my dress back over my head and shaking out my hair, the loosened violet curls falling slightly in the process. I knew how I looked— flushed and needy, my mouth set in an angry line at the thought of my interrupted orgasm. He still hadn't moved, though. Rolling my eyes I stalked up to him and began refastening the buttons on his shirt as fast as I could, adjusting his tie once I finished. We only had a few seconds left and there were smudges on his knees and the altar was in disarray. I could either choose one or the other.
"How the fuck is this thing supposed to look?" I was all fingers and thumbs, fumbling over the 'sacred' artifacts. Something seemed to snap in him and he was at my side, reorganizing everything to the point of perfection. We had just jumped off of the raised platform when the doors swung open. An older woman was standing there with a young couple. The young woman was glowing, a massive rock glinting from her ring finger; I swore you could have fit all of Whoville on that thing.
Instinctively, I latched onto Harry, pulling my rough ametrine ring off of my middle finger and replacing it on my ring finger, "Look at the stained glass, Babe, this would be perfect, don't you think?" I gazed up at him, willing him to understand his role and to play it with perfect ease. Over the years, I'd learned which roles to play and how to get out of complicated situations. I knew that my sex-caused flush could pass off as pure undiluted pre-marriage joy if it was paired with the right actions and expressions; he just had to have the common sense play along. He would be the one to make or break my little charade.
"Oh! I do appologize, but the Lady Chapel is closed unless you are on the waiting list or are being given a tour, Miss...?" The woman trailed off, waiting for me to fill in the blank left by my last name.
"Smith, Rose Smith," I shot her my best full-megawatt smile, "My fiancé, goodness I just love saying that word," I giggled and she sent me a polite smile, "My fiancé, Harrison, and I saw the windows from the street and I said that I just had to come see them! You see, I've always loved the thought of getting married in a church, but I have no congregational home of my own. We just moved back here from London after getting engaged, and now we're just searching for the perfect fit!"
"Oh, my goodness! Well, that truly is a charming story! We'd be very happy to add you to our waiting list and arrange a time for you to come back and tour the church," she glowed at me; the couple she'd come in with were eyeing us warily a few feet away. The young woman looked nervously to her fiancé, whispered something to him before she glared at us. I had to resist the sincere urge to flip her off. It's not like we were actually going to steal her date. Jesus Christ. Engagement turned women into such prima-donnas. The woman stood in front of me blinking angrily, obviously waiting for me to take her unspoken cue to leave. Unfortunately for her, though, I was currently the only thing standing between her and the Darling Professor's oh-so-noticeable boner.
"I'll be happy to add your name to the list in a bit, but I am actually with another couple now. We will be finished in around fifteen minutes, if you would like to wait in the main lobby?"
"I think we'll just come back at another time, what do you think?" I gave Harry another 'get your shit together, Styles' look before smiling back at the woman.
"Uh, yeah, that's fine," he mumbled, still not quite sure of his role. Fucking amateur.
"Grab my coat, Babe?" It was more of an order than a question. I pecked him quickly on the lips before leaving him high and dry in the middle of the Lady Chapel, his dick straining against his pants.