The Boy Movie Brahms Heelshire x reader FanFic

Chapter 71 - Nothing Changes

Brahms is a tall, slim silhouette, framed by a harvest moon shining like a huge golden lantern.  The late summer night is fragrant with crushed grasses and the slightly metallic scent of the lake.  Somewhere in the darkness a predator takes a small creature, and its dying cries echo across the water.

The breeze lifts your hair, so warm it feels like his fingers.  He stands ankle deep in the lake, jeans soaked to the  knee.   You watch as he pulls off a skinny sweatshirt, his flesh dappled pale and shadow.   His curls are longer than ever, bouncing slightly, shining in the moonlight.   You walk across the gravelly beach, barefoot, slipping from the thin silk robe he loves, to stand naked beside him.   

The water feels icy as you walk into the lake.  Stones turn to softer sand, and the breeze sighs through the reeds lining the banks.   You feel him watching you, desiring you, wanting you...and you smile in the darkness.    His hands when they reach you are startlingly hot against your water cooled flesh.  You stare up at the moon, and it grins back you.  It will still be hanging there when you're both turned to dust.   Thoughts of his death and yours sear your heart.  How many years? Only fate knows.  But you're both young yet, and vital with life and loving, and your blood will live on in your sons.  

Brahms stands behind you, both arms circling your chest.  You lean against him, absorbing his heat.   Slowly, he leans down to kiss the hollow of your neck.  You turn to face him, watch as he slides to his knees, going deep south, then down.

The tangle of his hair through your fingers feels like soft weed, you wind it round your fist gasping at what he's doing to you, marvelling at how long he can stay beneath the water.  You cry out like just another slaughtered animal.   He's always been the predator.

 He comes up slowly, a never ending tower, water gilding his body, golden skin, dark hair, eyes pale as moonstones.  You know the game.  You need it as badly as him.

You back away until the lake reaches your breasts.   He follows.  Dangerous, unpredictable Brahms.   There's that exhilarating moment when you don't quite know which way he'll swing and in the half light you're transported back to when he caught you in the moonlit corridor that first awful night.  The way his eyes pinioned you, glittering and pale and dreadful, and fear had warred with desire even then, and left you so ashamed.  

Now, you don't care.  You don't care that he's killed, or you've done the same.  What had to be done was done, and perhaps you and he were the karma of others more terrible than yourselves.  

You stare across at him as he approaches.  Without the mask he's no less threatening.  His eyes seem disembodied as though they're floating in the dark towards you.  

Another step back and you're almost up to your shoulders.   The way he's staring at you is almost too intense to bear, and you wonder with sick fascination what it would be like to die at his hands, and how you've dreaded that for so long it's almost become a self fulfilling wish.

He'll never hurt me,  you tell yourself.  Never...

In spite of that conviction, your heart starts to thump.  

"Brahms?"  His name is barely a whisper but he ignores you.  You stare up at him, toes scrabbling for purchase on the lake bed.  Inadvertently, you've taken yourself too deep and now you're  treading water.  It would be so easy for him to drown you!

You've gotten yourself in such a morbid state of mind, you almost cringe as he reaches for you.  You hang onto his shoulders, instinctively wrapping your legs around his waist.   This close you can see drops of water on his black lashes, watch as his eyes drop to your mouth.  Then, he's taking your face in his hands, pressing his lips to yours, and you feel him hot and hard beneath the water.  You shift your body, he spears you.

Both of you are silent.   Words would destroy the magic, the trepidation, the sensuality.  You cling to him, loving how his body  feels against yours; strong and firm as bedrock, your soul, your light, your life.  

You could almost weep at times like this.   You know he feels it too. You know he understands.  He does this for both of you.  

Have I lost my senses?  You want to ask him.   Who does this madness?   Have we lost ourselves to any hope of reality, living a fantasy neither of us can escape?   Did you trap me?  Have I enabled you?  Are we insane?

And does that even matter? 

No!  Because I could spend a lifetime searching for what doesn't exist outside what I have now.   His world is the most secure I've ever found, and he's mine.   

At that moment you see the hardness in those pale eyes soften.  You smile at him.  He smiles back.  All is right in your world.