All Mine

25

A loud, muffled snore startled you awake the next morning. Your eyes felt crusty, but you didn't want to move and rub them, lest you wake Brahms. 

His arms were possessively wrapped around you and his legs were entwined with yours. You wondered how he slept with trousers on, and let out a quiet sigh. If only Brahms wasn't a psychopathic killer, you might have grown to love him.

Slowly, you frowned. What were you thinking? Falling in love with Brahms... 

Maybe in a perfect world.

Orange morning sunlight leaked through the overhead bed window in abnormal shapes, making the room glow with light. You could've laid there all day in Brahms' arms if your bladder wasn't so mean.

 The need to relive yourself took over the need to not wake Brahms up, but luckily for you, it seemed like he was a heavy sleeper. You thought he had insomnia as you easily slipped out of his embrace, but BOY were you WRONG.

As soon as you left the bed, Brahms' eyes shot open and stared you down. You were walking out of the bedroom when you felt a pair of eyes staring straight at your back. Ignoring the urge to turn around, you sped up your walking and slipped into the bathroom. After you were finished sprucing yourself up, you opened the bathroom door. Much to your surprise (not), Brahms was stood directly in front of the door, peering at you with curiosity. 

"B-Brahms, I-"

"What's wrong?"

You froze, not expecting Brahms' calm tone of voice. You had a feeling he wasn't mad but hoped you weren't wrong about that too.

"I had to go to the toilet, that's all," You spoke confidently, flashing a wide smile at him. Brahms didn't move for a while, but began to nod. He moved out of the doorway and let you go.

---

You stood in the kitchen with a cup of tea in hand and thought deeply about the encounter you had had with Brahms earlier. It confused you as to why Brahms hadn't lost his shit right there and then. The tea cooled down and you took a long sip.

As you were doing so, Brahms walked in. 

You choked on your tea as you saw him, topless and clean, leaning against the wooden doorway. Jesus, had he been working out? Your eyes roved over his body, up and down, up and down.

Little did you know, he was doing the same thing with you. 

Today, you had decided to put on a thin, grey tank top with short shorts. Your body was all on show for Brahms to see. 

The Heelshire house was cold today too, so you greatly regretted the decision to wear something so thin and skimpy. Luckily, Brahms had arrived. You glanced at the clock briefly and panicked. Somehow, you and Brahms had slept right through the day. The time was five o'clock, which meant Brahms was waiting for his dinner.

"Sorry," You mumbled, putting down your cup of tea on the kitchen side and getting ingredients out of the fridge. Today on the menu: cottage pie. Brahms had taken a seat at the kitchen table, still topless and still watching you.

To him, you floated around the room.

To him, your feet barely touched the floor. 

You were graceful, small and light, just how he liked. 

Your figure always seemed to move and dance for him in the right ways, the right ways being intriguing. Whatever you did, you seemed to draw him in.

Dinner was finished and you hurriedly served it onto a plate. Along with cutlery, you placed the meal in front of Brahms and did the same for yourself. Slowly, you eased yourself into a chair directly opposite Brahms. 

You didn't feel threatened by him much anymore but didn't want to ruin the moment by collapsing into a chair and making a lot of noise. 

Knives and forks scraped against your plates as you ate the pie and every so often, you caught Brahms staring at you. After you caught him the first time, you instantly felt your cheeks go beetroot red and you always looked back down.

Finally, dinnertime was over and as you finished, Brahms rose from his chair and took the both of your plates. The clatter they produced in the sink made you jump slightly.

You didn't quite know what to do, but Brahms made it clear soon enough.

"Front room."

---

Upon your arrival, you saw the living room for the first time. A fireplace was in front of a large, expensive-looking sofa and bookcases were everywhere. You didn't doubt for a second that Brahms hadn't read everything in here five million times over.

"Sit," Brahms commanded you.

You didn't waste any time. 

Softly, you sat down on the sofa. Brahms was... demanding of you right now, to say the least.

Aside from this obvious fact, you did as he said. You sat on the sofa, waiting for him. Finally, he walked over.

"I want you... in more ways than one," He said, in a much deeper tone of voice.

Brahms got closer and rested his hands on your knees.

You gulped.

Rain started to fall outside and the fire kept crackling in the background, further heating you up more than Brahms already had.

"So, have me."