He's A Monster

Soft Gasps

Danielle's Perspective POV

The pounding in my head matches the rapid beat of my heart as I stare at Marshal, his long arm brushing against my cheek. His thumb hovers just inches from my parted lips, and I feel a shiver run down my spine.

"Mars--" I begin, my voice trembling.

"You'll be fine, Danielle," he murmurs, low and soothing.

I want to believe him. I'll be fine. Fine. But my mind reels. Is this really happening? Am I really about to...? I shake my head slightly, forcing my focus back to him.

"I'm scared..." I admit softly.

"Shh... you'll be okay, love."

His presence closes in around me. Warmth, strength, and something dangerous hum in the space between us. His lips brush mine, soft and deliberate. My back presses against the wall, unsure, trembling, wanting to let go but afraid of the unknown.

He moves slowly, leaving my lips to trail down my jaw to my neck. My thoughts scatter: him, the danger he carries, the way he could snap in an instant, but beneath it all is trust. He wouldn't hurt me... would he?

"Relax, love," he whispers, and his voice sends goosebumps along my arms. His teeth graze my neck in a gentle, teasing motion, and I close my eyes, letting myself feel without thinking.

Suddenly, my feet lift from the cold floor. I open my eyes to see his arms supporting me, one under my legs, the other around my shoulders. My chest tightens at the closeness.

"We'll be quiet," he says softly, and I nod, exhaling slow, shaky breaths. My hands rise instinctively above my head as his fingers trace down my chest, the warmth of his touch making my skin tingle.

Mother, please don't come in. This has to be perfect...

I can feel him against me, heat radiating from his body, his presence overwhelming in the best way. I try to steady myself, to breathe evenly, but his touch keeps catching me off guard. My cheeks burn as his hand brushes against my nightgown, reminding me of that night in the woods, the memory igniting a rush of emotion that leaves me dizzy.

"Easy there, love," he murmurs, voice low and smooth, grounding me as I let my head fall back onto the pillow. His fingers wander, teasing and insistent, and I bite my lip, fighting the moan threatening to escape.

The weight of him over me, the soft press of lips against my skin, the way his body moves in tune with mine: every sensation blurs the line between anticipation and need. My hands fumble with the sheets as his lips graze my ear, a whisper of heat and intent that leaves me shivering.

"I... love?" I whisper, voice trembling.

"Yes?"

"You drive me crazy," he replies, voice husky, eyes dark with intensity.

I feel the warmth, his erection pressing against my inner thigh, and a flush spreads across my body. His hand moves carefully, deliberately, over the fabric of my nightgown, and I can't help but freeze, aware of the desire coiling tight inside me.

Before I can speak, his lips find mine again, soft at first, then insistent. My body reacts instinctively, arching toward him, leaning into him as if I could disappear into his warmth. Everything else fades, just him and me and the quiet rhythm of our breathing.

His hand rests against my lower back, guiding me closer. My legs find their place against him, my hands settling on his shoulders. My chest rises and falls in sync with his. My mind races, trying to grasp the swirling emotions: anticipation, desire, wonder.

I try to steady myself, to be calm, to be graceful. Be sexy, Danielle... just feel it.

A soft sigh escapes me as his lips travel along my neck, his hands tracing the curves of my body just enough to ignite a heat that makes my knees weak. My head tilts back, eyes closed, letting the sensation wash over me.

His presence is grounding, yet exhilarating. Every brush of his hand, every press of his lips, every soft murmur in my ear sends me spiraling. 

"You're not rushing me," I whisper, surprised at my voice, filled with want and need.

His gaze locks with mine, sincerity and patience in his eyes, and my breath catches. I lean in, pressing my lips to his softly, and he responds, stronger this time, gripping the side of my leg.

The world narrows to him: the warmth, the weight, the tension that hums between us. I gasp softly, and his presence presses into me, grounding, thrilling, and utterly consuming. All that matters is him. All that matters is this moment, suspended in time, a quiet promise and an unspoken understanding of what's to come.

Author's note:

So, that happened, guys. Wasn't sure if you wanted all the details for a sex scene, but if you did, message me, and Marshal and Danielle may have another night alone. This chapter is more suggestive than anything, which I find appropriate for teenagers (17-19), even if they are consenting, it feels weird to make explicit content about teenagers. I will never write an explicit sex scene about teenagers, even if they are consenting, unless it is a flashback to a certain trauma.