Crimson Ivory [[[ANDER]]]

Chapter Sixteen: "The Devil in the Mirror"

Grunting, I let Andy carry me inside his house. I'm not sure why he couldn't take me to my hotel room, but whatever. His couch is comfier than mine anyway. As he swings around the corner, being careful not to hit my head against the wall, I realize that we're heading to an area of his house to which I have never visited. Curious, I look at the walls and take in my surroundings. The walls are a cute cream color and there are various pieces of obvious fanart hanging in gold tinted frames. Amongst them, I spy two printed out copies of my own doodles.

Andy notices my gaze and chuckles, his lips against the outer shell of my ear.

"I look forward to hanging up a picture of me," he whispers.

Blushing, I bury my face in his chest and whine.

"I've drawn you before, though... I just haven't colored them yet!"

"It's alright Ambrosía... Maybe I can inspire you to draw me again?"

The rasp in his deep voice has me blushing far worse than I've ever blushed before, though he can't see it due to the fact my face is still against his pecs. On a whim, I open my eyes and attempt to stare at his tattoo to help calm me down a bit. Confused, I stare at where the dragonfly and heart should be. Instead, there's a large amount of plastic wrap. Disgruntled, even my eyes cannot see through the thick barrier.

"You had it removed?"

"I've had a few removed," he chuckles.

I pull away from his skin and glance up at his glistening diamond eyes.

"Why?"

"That chapter of my life is over, Amber."

Not waiting for me to comment, he plugs his lips over mine. We've stilled in our travel through the halls, standing at the bottom of a spiral staircase. As his mouth becomes ever more insistent, I throw rationality to the wind and return his blazing fire. My arms, already his toned neck, tighten their grasp and I breathe out a moan. Andy's arms loosen around me, dropping my legs before he forces me against the wall. As much as I've been through, Andy dominating me right now isn't bothering me. Rather... I find that I quite like it. However, I'm a bossy little bigot who's become addicted to being in control.

Trying to debate about who gets the power as his hands coil around my waist, his thumbs outlining my V, I decide to use my traits as a Scorpio: deceitful, manipulative, and sexuality. Truth be told, I've already become a master of the first two with the help of my unseen veil. I will give Andy the illusion he is the dominating force of the hectic mating of our famished mouths. His hands slide up a little, coming around my body and hugging me to his front as he forces my mouth open to his explorative teeth. They nip at my lips and tongue, his own tongue swirling around inside my cheeks.

"Andy," I moan breathlessly.

"Hmmmm," is his reply, jarring his hips against mine.

I'm reminded of the day he nearly took me against the mirror, the way his touches had burned me so badly with need. Instinctively, one of my hands frees his neck as I cup his covered hardness. Part of me is scared, recalling how my father had hurt and maimed me. Yet, a larger part of me wants to see what every inch of Andy looks like as he kisses and licks every inch of me. My thighs clamp together as I feel his calloused fingers massaging my spine. I squeal out, startling myself. All he's doing is touching my back- how can that be stimulating?

Because you're horny and so is he, Ambrosía...

I bring my hands up to his pecs, loving the feel of his muscles. However, my palms are not quite satisfied with the fabric obstruction between them and what is mine- what is Andy's unassailably flawless body. The sound of buttons raining against the floor arrests my attention, nor having remembered moving an ich as I peer at my hands to see that I've literally ripped open his fancy shirt.