SILVERCHAIR imagines [requests OPEN]

stranded (part six)

Regardless of how Daniel was feeling about me, I know in my bones I could never hate him. He possessed the kind of allure that could erode your heart, leaving it bloody, raw, cavernous.

Was I really that hungry or was I another sort of empty? The sort of empty that would set off another chain of events. I never intended to have a tempest at my heels. I was out of my own control. I was a deep, savage ocean. A mystery to myself. I craved my gentle, brooding detective, tucked away in his cave. I wanted him to shine a light on me. Inspect me with his magnifying glass, really look at me, like no one else could.

The moment my eyes finally caught sight of Daniel's westward region of the island, the clouds crowded together and hung there all grey and fumbling above my head. Perhaps they were apprehensive, too. Perhaps they wouldn't burst forth until they knew it was okay to breathe. I spied a flash of Daniel's arm, dressed in a black, tattered long sleeve, a pale hand with slender fingers brushing the gnarled rock at his cave's entrance before he disappeared within it.

His hands. I wanted them on me.

What was coming over me? I must have been delirious with hunger. Whatever happened in that cave wouldn't be my fault. Ben and Chris, being the man-boys that they were, leaving me unfed and unsupervised. I swallowed away any hesitation I still harbored and was ready to set sail. Unfolding, billowing about, lost to what I desired most.

I heard the rushed scratch of a match ignite as I entered. The soft glow of a flame danced before me in the dark before it was placed on three tapered candles of varying heights. In this glow, Daniel's enticing face, searing my heart with his eyes, greeted me. I don't know where the candles and matches came from. He's just the sort to have those things on a deserted island and keep them all to himself. I didn't know where men like him even came from, but thank heavens no one had kept Daniel from me.

No more denying this any longer. My heart yearned to be his. Seeing his face, his nose, bruised and bloodied, made my yearning unbearable. I wasn't a stranger to having my body being played with time and again. But this was different. My heart wanted to be dangled before him. I shuddered with the thought. Please. Just a touch, a scratch, a bite.

"Are you all right?" he asked. His was searching my face and chest. "You seem out of breath."

I'm out of you, you captivating fool.

"No."

"Here," he motioned toward a bed of fresh palms and torn blankets behind him, "come and rest."

He took hold of my hand because my brain didn't know the definition of obey. I could feel my breathing, hot and alarmingly frantic. He was concerned about me. Any other time this would warm me, as if I were a baby being swaddled and kissed by a doting parent--but not now. It took all my might to fetch my emotional and moral self since I was flailing, barely staying afloat in those disarming, erudite eyes of his.

"All of this is my fault," I bowed my head, crestfallen.

His features took on a sage expression. "These matters have to work themselves out. They always do. I reckon it will all blow over soon enough. No trace left. No more worries. All forgiveness and affection."

Nothing he said made any freaking sense to me. I was sitting, squirming, and he was kneeling beside me. I reached my hand out. I didn't place it over his heart. I placed it further down.

The candle light flickered about the cave's dampened walls. He brought his finger to his nose and feigned a sniffle. I kept my hand right where it was. Though he seemed nervous and shy, what was happening beneath my hand was a whole other story. Turn the page, Daniel.

And then, as if a beast was awakened, he grabbed my arm and lifted me up towards him so that I was kneeling, too. Our foreheads touched as if we were in prayer. His hands trailed up and down my back while mine were busy on their own sort of adventure. Our lips touched and then our tongues fought to have the upper hand. It was all very maddening and thrilling. Just as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin of my neck, lightening flashed and a wild crack of thunder roared. The clouds couldn't hold it in any longer. He bit me, as the rain came flooding down, and he sucked as if I were a piece of fruit.

He broke the invasion for only a moment, trying to breathe as if he were in pain, and he whispered in my ear, "How is it that you always know what I want?"

If magic were real, he would know how to wield it. It wasn't that I knew what he wanted--it was more like I felt compelled to do it, as if under a spell, all fragrant and enchanting, swirling around me, incandescent and erratic, yet somehow contained and focused.

Oh, his magic was real. It was in his eyes, his hands, his mouth...and now it was all in me.

🌊🌊🌊

🙈
Thank you for your patience. L.O.L.

I must say, I had fun with the LANGUAGE here. It's been a minute/century. I've been wanting to get back to this story, well, just writing in general, for some time now and in the wee hours of this morning, it wouldn't let me sleep, so here ya go. 😂 I couldn't possibly let my fangurlies down.

Maybe some fanfic is just what I need to get my GROOVE back.
Any requests?

XO

💙,
Leanne