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You breathe him in, the smell of cedar and spice filling your senses. His lips mold onto yours in a gentle kiss, holding promises that you both knew he wouldn’t keep. He tasted like false hope and sin, both intoxicating and the recipe for your ruination; but you don’t care. How could you? You’re surrounded by him, his smell, his lips, his touch. All of it, both too little and too much, a pleasant buzz forms under your skin as you can feel your need for him grow into something with teeth and claws. He doesn’t say much in these interactions, but he looks at you with those dark eyes, glistening in the city light that bleeds through the crack of the curtains. you could spend hours in them, counting every star his midnight eyes caught in the light.
His lips travel their familiar path from your lips to your throat, you feel his breath against your skin as his teeth nip and his lips kiss as an empty silent apology. You cling to him as your breathing hitches, his hands find purchase at your hips, kneading the flesh that’s there. You run your hands through his curls, the soft ringlets flow effortlessly through your fingers. you don’t even try to control the breathy moans that tumble out of your mouth as he finds the one spot on your neck that sends shivers running through you. His hands move from your hips, his fingers dancing along your skin leaving a trail of goosebumps and fire in their wake. You feel him moan as you fingers grip his hair tighter, your back arches into him as if he wasn’t close enough.
It was strange, this thing with Marc Spector. If he were anyone else you would’ve told him to drop dead the moment you saw him on the other side of your door, but instead you let him in again and again; like he’s a lesson you refuse to learn. He’d hand you the flowers he brought with him, the kind someone would get last minute before checking out at the grocery store; and a card that said all things that he wouldn’t. You would fall for it, like you always did, and welcome him in with open arms; but you know the day is coming, where he wouldn’t darken your doorway again or you will lock the door instead of turning the knob. Until then, though, you let him kiss you and hold you and let him take you over the edge again and again until he was satisfied.
You struggle for air as his fingers find that spot inside you that makes your toes curl and you throb. You hold onto him like he’s the only thing holding you to the ground, he repeats the motion as his lips find themselves at the tops of your breasts. He looked up at you, eyes dark and wet and full of hunger; something so ravenous and thirsty that it reminded you of yours. His gaze never left yours as his mouth latched onto the peak of your right breast, you choke at the feel of his canines merely grazing you as his thumb draws lazy circles on your clit. Your hands travel from his hair to venture further south, merely ghosting over his feverish skin. You watch with subtle fascination at the trail of goosebumps that follows your touch; and for a brief moment you believe that you have the same effect on him as he does you.
Your hands make it no further than his chest before he lets your breast go, a thin, clear strand still connecting you and him before it breaks. His ministrations below have slowed, letting the knot that has formed to ebb away. You groan lightly and furrow your brows, you had been on the verge of heaven only to have had it slip through your grasp. There was a moment of heated silence, a tease really, one full of fire and an unbreaking stare; and as he takes your hands off of his chest and holds them you had started to wonder if maybe you had crossed a line of some kind.
Until he started to lean back onto the cotton comforter below, his eyes not leaving yours. His hands move from your hands to your bare hips, caressing the soft flesh first before gripping it solidly.
“Up here.” is all he rasped. At first you were unsure, slightly afraid you would suffocate him, that was until in a brief flash you went from sitting above his bulge to his shoulders. You didn’t even register him lifting you. You hover for a moment until you see the look in his eyes, his gaze was feral and you feared that if you hesitated for a second longer he may go mad. So slowly you began to put weight onto him, until suddenly you were pulled in all at once. Your full weight comes crashing down onto him, his hands harshly kneading the flesh of your ass as he roughly pulls you further into him. You don't even have time to worry that you might be suffocating him as he works you into another lust filled frenzy.
This, this and your stubborn heart is what always makes you reopen that door and to forgive and forget every transgression he's ever made. He eats you out as though he hasn't had a decent meal in years, like Erysichthon when the gods cursed him with a hunger that could never be sated.
His war worn hands grip you as though you run the moment he lets go. You grip the headboard until your knuckles whiten and your fingers ache. You don't mind though, your mind is too clouded by the bliss he's giving you. His nose brushes against your clit as he inhales you. You feel the knot your abdomen start to form as your toes curl. Marc must sense it as his eyes impossibly grew darker. You could already feel the bruises start to form as his grip tightens and his efforts double fold. You let out a choked moan as tears prick the corners of your eyes, you swear to every god that you will kill him if he stops what he's doing. An empty oath that you know you'll never follow through on. You let out a string of curses as your eyes roll into the back of your head, you don't even register your hands leaving the headboard to curl themselves around his dark ringlets. The knot is impossibly tight now, it's almost painful how close you were. The feeling similar to looking over a steep cliff and knowing that one gust, one push and you'd fall, weightless as you crash.
You barely register one of his hands leaving their vice grip on your waist to one of your hands in his hair, gently coaxing your digits to let go. His fingers replace the soft hair previously in your grasp, his hand holds yours gently; contrasting the rough way his other grips your waist and the way he is devouring you, body and soul. it isn't until you see the look in his eyes, as though the world could be burning and he wouldn't look away from you for a moment that you feel the knot inside you burst like fireworks. Lightning courses through your body and electrifies your nerves. A scream you did not register leaving you escapes, it's choked and primal and filled with every feral thought and want in you. It leaves you throbbing and with wet cheeks. He doesn't stop as he rips another one from you again, faster than the last one but leaves you feeling boneless all the same. You practically have to rip yourself away from him, otherwise he would drain you until you were nothing left but a husk. You were prepared to take care of him only to find a large wet patch decorating his briefs instead. You could feel a ridiculous amount of pride swell in you as you brought this man to his release with just the taste of you alone.
Marc takes a moment to breathe and lay with his arms around you for a brief moment before getting up to rid himself of the soiled underwear and go to the bathroom to grab a soft, warm wet cloth to clean you up with. While he's gone you can't help but relive what brought you to this moment, you both fought. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence, and it happened more often than you cared to admit. You simply had asked a question, one that you didn't think was so hard to answer. You asked where he ran off to most days of the week, and why you had never in 3 years of dating been over at his. He could've said anything, that he lived with annoying flatmates or his parents and you would've believed him. Instead, though, he had fought you on it and told you it wasn't any of your business. You tried not to think of what came after that, of what he said to you and how he slammed the door behind him as he left.
You were a fool, you knew that, you knew you would continue being the fool for him. You will ignore every red flag about him, you will kiss every new scar and never ask where they came from. Because if that was the price you had to pay to have his midnight eyes on you longer, his kisses linger, or for that addicting touch of his to stay with you longer then you were willing to pay it.
You were ok with being an afterthought, so long as you were a thought at all.
So as you laid that night next to him, curled into his arms breathing in that spiced scent of his. You relished in his warmth and once again donned your rose tinted lenses, making all his red flags look like any other; and made peace with the fact that some people never learned their lesson.