Metamorphosis || Karl Heisenberg

Chapter 18

(disclaimer: this whole chapter is basically smut with a touch of fluff. enjoy)

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There was only so much someone could write on a page that described the feelings bubbling up within her as Heisenberg devoured her mouth with his. His hands didn't hold themselves back either, he was raking them along her body like she was about to disappear right underneath him, never to be seen again.

The books she read could never fully describe the way her flesh tingled, the way she wanted him to touch her more, the way his husky breaths on her lips made her shiver. He had begun the slow rotation of his hips between her thighs again, causing a wetness to start forming under her clothes.

After what felt like ages in a tumble of sheets, Circe heard Heisenberg's breath hitch as he pulled himself away, halting everything all together.

Circe frowned while managing to catch her breath, giving him a confused look. Her hands reached up to touch his face, but he took them in his instead, and pulled them to his mouth, brushing his lips across her knuckles.

"Almost forgot somethin'," he said, his eyes never wavering from hers.

"F-forgot what?" Many things were going on in her head just then. "There isn't...someone else?" Her voice was small.

Heisenberg reared his head back, a laugh rumbling from his chest. "No, you silly little thing," he laughed again, letting her hands go to take hold of her face. "You are the only one for me, Circe," he said seriously. "Don't you ever forget that. You understand me?"

She didn't flinch when he firmly grasped the bottom of her chin in his fingers, in fact, she leaned into it. If she didn't know she had fallen in love with him before, she sure as hell knew it now. It shined in her eyes as she looked up at him.

She didn't reply fast enough. "You didn't forget how to talk again, now did ya, sweetheart," he rasped lowly, grinding his hips between her legs suddenly. "You heard me right?" Another slow grind.

Circe gasped, her hands curling up the back of his shoulders. "N-no. Ah! Y-yes," her kind wouldn't work well enough to be able to tell which question to answer, so she answered both.

"I wanna hear you say it," his movements had become rhythmic again, and he lowered himself closer to her body, trailing his teeth and tongue up her throat. "You are the only one for me, Circe. Do you understand?"

She inhaled sharply, still losing herself. "I-I understand," she could feel his hand tracing down her throat, down past the curve of her breast. "I'm the only one for you, Karl, please."

He had not stopped his hips since the last time they started, now working her slowly, his fingers grazing the skin underneath the elastic band of her pajama pants. "Now tell me, while you're writhing beneath me, what am I to you?"

The emotions that were brought upon hearing that question were almost too much for Circe to handle. It nearly felt impossible for her to even think of the words to tell him exactly what he meant to her.

This man found her alone, broken in the woods. Fed her, clothed her, gave her a home, and gave her memories she never wanted to forget. There was so much she wanted to say in what felt like so little time, but she didn't want this to stop, she didn't want him to stop.