Covens and Proxies

56

What kind of love story would this be if there wasn't some heat? Anyways, this chapter isn't super crucial so if this makes ya'll uncomfortable it's safe to skip. You won't be missing anything plot-wise. It's mostly just bonding, exploring the mind-scape and stuff like that.

His warmth presses into you, his body laying comfortably over yours. With hands in his hair, you hold him to you. His mind is so full of conflicting emotions and thoughts, you have to work to keep the connection--to soothe him and let his wants drive him if only for a few hours.

He pulls his gloves off, tossing them to a far corner so his touch sends shivers through you. Every brush of his worn hands burns into your skin, skimming up your waist and taking your shirt with them. He pulls from the kiss, letting you sit up. He looks at you with dark, storming eyes swirling with desire and passion. The look he's giving you, the way he's smiling, makes your stomach churn with excitement.

Your breath is already taken, but a kiss fluttering across your jaw draws it back. His lips dance down your neck, your hands clenching in his hair to stay quiet. He keeps his hands on your waist, running over your navel on occasion. Keeping his mouth to your collar bone, he sits back and pulls you to his lap.

His breath fans across your skin, hitching your own heartbeat in anticipation. Slowly, you pull his mouth back to yours. Slow kissing and lazy touching follow until all Toby's left in are his boxers, you naked on top of him.

His lips dance along your collar bone as he lays you back onto your back, slowly grinding into you while his hands entwine with yours. You couldn't explain it if you tried, but his thoughts still ring in your mind as yours does in his. His heartbeat rings in your ears, relaxed and steady, as though it were the perfect melody designed just for you.

You wrap a leg around his waste, working his boxers off with your heels until he kicks it to the edge of the bed. His dick sticks out, a groan coming from his lips when your draw a finger up it's length. He takes the chance to pull his own hand down to your core, his thumb pressing your clit until you whimper.

He pulls up, looking at you with heavy-lidded eyes. His smile is lopsided and clouded, drawing your own smile with another whine. He kisses you, deep and whole, while he curls his fingers deep in your core. You press your thumb to his slit, tracing to his base with precum. He bites your lip gently, grinding into your hand.

"Do-do that again." He murmurs into your lips, pressing your clit and curling his fingers again. You repeat the action, picking the pace up a bit more until he's twitching.

You're clenching around emptiness while he lines himself up. His eyes are burning when he looks to you, practically begging for you to give him the ok. You smile, kissing him slow and passionate while he slides in.

The sensation following is immeasurable. The feeling of being full, of being complete is overwhelming. His body fitting perfectly to yours brings a new heat to your heart, a new fire to your very being, and a new fervor to your kiss.

He feels it too, digging deeper into you. His movements are fluid and measured, fast and fulfilling—leaving you panting and mumbling his name, your legs shaking as the knot tightens in your core until it's nearly painful.

He smiles, pressing his mouth to your neck. "Just a bit longer. I'm almost there." His voice is soft and breathy, barely more then a whisper in your ear.

He picks up his speed, pushing you wider, diving deeper until you have to bite into his shoulder to keep yourself together. He twitches, drawing a whimper from your lips that resonates through his body.

In your ear, his voice rings soft and coaxing, "Cum for me, baby."

The only thing on your tongue is his name, yours dripping from his voice as he fills you with his seed.

His breath flutters over your skin as you let yourself slide back to your body, the consciousness slowly separating until your staring at him and he's got the biggest, purest, goofiest smile on his lips.

His grin is infectious, because you immediately feel your own creeping wider and wider until your laughing.

With his tossled and teased hair, his abyssal eyes, scars dancing over his pale skin. He used to be terrifying and intimidating; some wary, unattainable beast in human form. Now, he looks so perfect and human and loving. You wonder what changed in the time you've known this murderer that could cause such a drastic shift in your view of him.

"I think I'm in love with you, (Y/n) (L/N)." He mutters, as if he'd read your mind.

You grin, tracing his shimmering scar. "I think I'm in love with you too, Tobias Rogers."