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A dark silhouette lingered in the door frame as you peered up from your book, nearly sending your heart racing when you realized who the keeper of the shadow actually was. Thrilled and a bit more relaxed, you dogear the corner of your page as you set the paperback aside. Eric Draven hovers for only a moment, waiting for his beckoning call as you open your arms wide for him. He isn’t one to hesitate, taking long strides to meet your touch as the bed dips under his weight. Your senses are instantly filled with the smell of rain and cigarettes, a staple scent for your lover. He’s quick to tell you how cigarettes can kill you, but you assume he doesn’t really have to worry about that, now does he?
A low groan escapes his throat as he hurriedly buried his face in your neck, tired and frayed from whatever he had gotten himself into that evening. Devil’s Night was quickly approaching, and every year it seemed to wear at him more and more. You worried, of course, but you didn’t want to stop him from doing what he was brought back to do. Not like you could stop him either.
Eric’s nose pressed flush against your skin, trailing the surface of your neck until his lips made contact. His touch is feather-light, peppering lingering kisses along your pulse as you try desperately to ask about his night. You’d been worried when the clock passed midnight but knew better than to voice your worries. You didn’t want to distract him while he was out handling the town.
“Did you handle anyone tonight?” Your voice came out soft and timid, the word “handle” was a bit of a cover-up for what he was really doing. Even if the man was undead, that didn’t stop you from worrying about him.
“Mmm…a few..” his response was just as quiet, “Would’ve gotten a few more if I hadn’t been so distracted…” His teeth grazed along your jawline as he cut himself short.
Breath hitches as you desperately try to focus on the conversation at hand, letting your eyes flutter shut in an attempt to keep yourself level. “Distracted? The great vigilante Eric Draven allowed himself to get distracted?” Feigning awe as your fingers traced one of the many cuts in his black top.
Note to self, buy him new shirts.
“Very often, actually.” His tone was short and lifeless as he sat back to look down at you. He propped himself up on his elbow, dark eyes scanning every crease and mark on your face as you shifted nervously. “I never stop thinking of you when I’m out there…”
His admission caught you off guard, but by the stern look on his face, you knew for a fact that he wasn’t joking around.
“What do you mean?” You almost regret asking but pursue the question anyway.
He pursed his lips, trying to decide how he wanted to approach the question without sounding overbearing. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, Eric was always taking you into consideration when it came to his actions. Obviously, death wasn’t too much of a concern for him, but it was still on the table. He couldn’t leave you again, not after what you went through the last time. “I think about…what it must be like for you, being with someone like me, and how you’re always waiting endless hours for me to come home. Which I know you do.”
Your face flared red, rolling your eyes at his correct assumptions. You hated how well he knew you. You opened your mouth to interject, but he wasn’t finished.
“I think about…” His hands had shifted, one pressed into your shoulder to lay you back on the cold mattress, the other trailing up the hem of your nightshirt. The frigid touch of his fingertips against your skin was enough to raise goosebumps along your spine, your heart rate picking up ever so slightly. You laid back willingly and watched, his eyes flickering over you before he continued.
“I think about how your eyes light up when I enter the room like you haven’t seen another person in years..” Eric ever so gently runs the pad of his thumb under your eyes, curving his way down the bridge of your nose. He lingers over your lips, his own pulling back to flash a timid smile.
“I think about your voice…your lips curled around me with no hesitation, no judgment..” The heavy gravel in his tone brings heat to your chest, focused on his hands as he tugged the thin fabric of your top above your head and discarded it by the bed.
You barely had time to brush the hair free from your eyes when the weight shifted in the mattress, depressions on either side of your hips where he straddled your waist. The rough, worn fingers of the guitarist trace along the valley of your breast, featherlight strokes over a soft pink peak.
“Is that it?” Though the shake in your voice betrayed you, it told him he was making all of the right moves.
Eric’s fingers danced along the purpling bruises on and below your collarbone, appreciating the way his canvas held his work so beautifully. “Not even close,” his voice barely above a whisper, “I never stop thinking about you. The way you sway to songs when you’re cooking dinner, how you sing when you’re getting ready for work, the curve of your spine right when you’re about to c-“ Your hand snapped up, covering his lips before he could finish his thought.
“Eric.” Your fingertips pressed to his grinning lips, “I get it.” Your laughter echoed as he bent down to kiss just above your navel.
“I’m just saying…I don’t think you understand how much you really mean to me…” His words seemed to fade into the background when his fingers tugged against the ribbon of your pajama pants, slipping his thumbs into the elastic waistband to shimmy them lower. You don’t hesitate to raise your hips to help, watching intently as he slid the pants off your feet and tossed them aside. You wanted to reply, to tell him that you did know how much you meant to him, but the words escaped you.
There you lay, almost fully exposed as his eyes scan you like a wolf eyeing an injured doe. The temptation to pull him against you is overwhelming, but you keep your hands wrapped in the sheets.
Strong hands find their way to your thighs, rubbing and grabbing at your skin before he riddles them with tender kisses. The heat of his breath over your flesh fills you with anguish, hands tangled through his mess of dark, curly hair. Eric’s hums vibrate while his hands wrap around your waist, lips dragging and teeth grazing the surface just above your underwear.
You knew he was paying extra attention to the areas you complained about the most; your hips, your thighs, and your stomach. You’d lost yourself so deep in thought you hadn’t even realized how easily he’d slipped your underwear down, that is until you felt the drag of his tongue. Your head snaps up from the mess of pillows, catching the wicked glint in his eye as he does it again. A slow, agonizing roll of his tongue against your clit sends you shivering. A gasp catches in your throat when you make eye contact, the deepening desire emanating from his blown-out pupils.
Strong arms snake their way over your hips to keep you still, his dark locks tickle as his tongue draws back and forth through your dripping heat. Eric’s fingers dig into the meat of your thigh as a chorus of moans echoes through the dimly lit bedroom, his own included. A million words spin through your mind, but none manage to form as the coil winds tighter and tighter in your core.
The love of your life lay between your legs, pleasuring you like it was his dying wish and you couldn’t form a single praise or thanks to save your life. The harder you tried to pull away, the harder his hands pressed into your legs, keeping you right where he wanted you. There was no way to get out of his vise, not that you even wanted to, but the overwhelming pleasure was almost too much to handle at this point.
He could tell this too, driving his tongue into your slick walls just enough to have you bending into his touch. Eyes rolling back as you ground your hips in time with his motions, you were right there. It was embarrassing how quick he could move you to this point, the vibration of his delicious hums adding only another stimulation.
Everything he did was elegant. Like playing a song from memory, he knew exactly how and where to touch you to get the reaction he wanted, no…the reaction he needed. He needed to make you feel good, needed to hear that response of pleasure you so willfully sang for him. His hips dug roughly into the mattress below, desperate for any relief while he focused on you.
You’d come crashing down sooner than anticipated, unable to hold back the symphony of groans and whimpers that came along with your orgasm. Chest heavy and hands gripping the sheets tightly, you watched as the hungry predator turned soft, slowly pressing kisses to the inside of your thighs, moving up to smother them along your hips as well. Your eyes met once again, his chin resting on your hips as he collected your juices on his tongue. He hummed, tilting his head to the side pleasantly before he spoke, “Like a fine wine…”
A mixture of a scoff and laugh left you, your hand running down your face to collect any sweat that began during your escapade. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re delicious…” His tone low as he shifted onto his knees, eyes fixated on yours as they widened with excitement, “Now, let’s see if I can really make you sing..” Yanking the belt free from his pants with that oh-so devious smile you loved so much.