7. White Flames "Get on your knees. Beg me to stop. I promise I'll love you if you do it for me."
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"WHAT IF I TOLD YOU THAT... I WANTED TO BE MORE THAN FRIENDS WHEN I COME BACK?" Arvin's head buzzed, breath hitching as his heart jumped up into the back of his throat to catch it. For a moment, he stayed quiet. Contemplating what he should say as you waited patiently for an answer. It would go either way and you accepted both in your heart. Being bitter because he felt something else would be petty. Besides, it was easy to step into Arvin's shoes after learning about him and his past self. How he grew into the person he was now.
"Well, I guess I would say I would be completely fine with that. Thrilled even since I've been in love with you since you laughed when my fist connected with Gene Dinwoodie's nose."
This time surprise took over your blood.
You lift your head off of his stiff shoulder slowly, your gaze flickering with the dancing flames before you. It was probably your mind playing tricks on you, but it seemed like they grew with the tension in the air. It wasn't a red tension, tense and full of raging hatred.
It was azure blue... sexual.
For when you turned your head finally and look up into his eyes, they were glowing in lust. Lust so rich and dense it swallows your gaze and held it.
"What else did you feel when I laughed at the bastards pain?" You breathed.
His pupils flared, the darkness of that lust trailing its shadows all over your body and your toes curl at the uneven breathes that ranked his chest. As if it was taking Arvin every fiber of his being to not jump you right then and there. Not that you weren't in the same predicament when his tongue flickers out and licks his lips. A tongue you couldn't help but imagine licking other parts of your body, tasting and sucking certain parts.
Arvin's gaze settles on your lips and you try your damn hardest not to slip your bottom lip under your teeth to see what he'll do. "I thought about how fucking good your hips looked swaying in those damn jeans. Hip dips and all. All I could think about... was my fingers digging into those hips and making my dents as you rode me."
For the first time in your life, a small squeak of surprise leaves your throat when Arvin's arms circle around your waist. Fingers digging as he said, one small tug and you were perched on his lap. Just the scent of him left you arching into him. That smell full of the sweet and salty winter wind which drifted from the north. The deep smoke clinging to his skin like a second layer. And as he drags one hand slowly up your side, raising your shirt with it to feel the goosebumps which bloom from the feathery touch, your breath hitches a bit. Knuckles rub the smooth and sensitive skin right underneath your left breast, leaving you to shudder and earn a approving glint in Arvin's fluttering gaze.
