Chapter 5 #2
He made eye contact again.
“Give me another sensation,” he ordered gently, and the quivering that ran through my stomach was unbearable.
“Longing,” I whispered with dry lips.
His fingers slid over the back of my hand, so slowly, as if he had studied Batteries of Ink.
The stimulation lay in the speed control Atrinus had tried on Velina.
“Longing for what?”
There was something demanding in his gaze.
His fingers slowed, wandering toward my wrist.
“To be able to experience all these things and write them down from my point of view.”
His fingers slid from my wrist to my thigh.
The tension that contracted in my overstimulated stomach made me part my lips slightly and gasp for air with a feeling of dizziness.
“I'd like to read them from your point of view,” he said, just as quietly as I had, his eyes fixed on my lips.
The tingling between my thighs turned to wetness.
His hand pushed the fabric of my dress up far too slowly. Further, ever further. Slowly...
My body begged him to continue, begged for the fabric of my dress to finally come to an end.
“And I from yours.”
His warm fingers touched my bare thighs and he paused.
Was that his heartbeat I could feel through his bare fingers? Or was it mine?
My chest rose and fell... way too fast.
He controlled the speed at which I existed... with his.
“I'm not writing anymore, Quill.”
My heart contracted, but to my surprise, his hand continued to move.
I automatically spread my thighs.
“It's never too late to start again.”
My voice was just a whisper.
And only now did I realize how close he was leaning toward me, how much I was reaching toward him.
His eyes were midnight lakes in the darkness, and I wanted to dive into them.
Automatically, my hand moved up to his cheek, resting on his stubble.
This time, he swallowed.
“You know what you're asking of me? What it does to us when we don't write for a long time and then suddenly start again?”
The desperation in his voice made my dusty heart race, cracking more and more with every passing second.
I placed my thumb on his lips, which automatically opened slightly, allowing his short, warm breath to brush against the tip of my thumb.
“Chaos.”
The mere word from his hoarse throat sent electric impulses through my skin.
His fingers dug longingly into my bare thigh.
“Let it out, Davian. Let it take possession of your life.” He closed his eyes as if he were fighting my request, but his fingers dug deeper into my thighs until I too exhaled demandingly. “You were born to write. This chaos you fear. It is your way of breathing.”
A tear escaped his eye.
“Breathe...” I begged him, letting my own tears fall, wanting to say something else, but he opened his glassy eyes and pushed himself toward me until there was nothing between our lips but salvation.
That was the moment when our threads met, wrapped themselves around each other, intertwined in complex patterns, clinging to each other as if afraid that something would tear them apart again.
Davian's lips were soft, gentle, but his kiss was the storm brewing inside him, waiting to finally break free.
We both opened our mouths and his body sank further against mine as his fingers continued to slide up the inside of my thighs. Slowly, but shakily, as if he were trying with all his might to control his speed, but was on the verge of losing control.
There were no instructions for this. Losing against our desire was the only option.
And so, I pushed myself toward his fingers, pressing my lips against his just as desperately as he did, welcoming his warm tongue.
He began to suck on my chapped lower lip, allowing my hand to wander along his jawline and further into his soft hair.
A whimper escaped my lips, straight into his mouth.
Suddenly, I felt his second hand on my waist, as if he needed something to hold on to.
He pulled away from my lips without letting his mouth leave my skin, kissed his way down my throat, and I tilted my head back, gasping for air. Air that I immediately lacked again when one of his fingers slid past my drenched panties.
He paused, kissed my collarbone devastatingly slowly while he ran his finger over my dripping pussy at the same agonizing slow speed.
I shuddered, whimpering into his hair.
“Davian...” I begged, my voice barely above a desperate whisper.
“You wanted chaos,” he growled in a hoarse, masculine voice against my neck until he reached my ear.
My stomach trembled.
His finger withdrew through my wetness, brushing my swollen clit.
I sighed, wanting nothing more than for him to continue.
His finger slid back and paused in front of my opening, the second one next to it. His warm, rapid breath brushed my earlobe.
“But something tells me that you're the only chaos in this room, that my mind won't survive.”
Somehow, my second hand finally managed to let go of the book and landed on his firm thigh, moving upward until my fingers ran over the hardness in his pants.
He moaned softly right next to my ear. His body, trembling under my fingers. Mine, under his.
Without warning, he pushed both fingers mercilessly slowly into me.
I moaned and his other hand landed on my mouth, muffling the sound.
His scent clouded my mind as his fingers paused inside me and I had to hold on to his shirt to keep from collapsing against the shelf.
Loud footsteps in the hallway made him pull his fingers out of me much too quickly, pull back, and jump up.
He stared at me as if worlds were colliding inside him.
Panic overwhelmed me.
The door handle pressed down and our heads spun around.
Immediately, I jumped up too, acting on instinct, and darted behind one of the shelves.
Dead men tell no tales.
Are you aware that you can see ghosts?
Anyway, you're the first one who sees me.
– Leaking Batteries Diary