Empty Veins | Quil Ateara [4]

cinq

Her fingers traced along his chest, following the natural plains and dips with the barest hint of pressure -- a whisper with each brush of skin or graze of a nail.

Andy couldn't fight the smile that threatened to burst free as he returned the gesture, his touch dancing along her spine with such loving gentleness that was continued in the strength of his hands. The way he held her so carefully, so protectively, continued to make her heart race in embarrassing patterns no matter which way he held her, which way he touched her.

Pillows piled high, scattered around the bed, Andy knew that she would trap him here if she could, prevent him from ever leaving, but as much as she knew he loved her, there was always a certain type of joy that came from him in waves when he returned from time spent with the rest of the pack. They were his family as much as she might find issues with many of them. 

She has been trying, in her defence, to bridge the gap between them that had been forged in a period of high emotions running high and views conflicting. She couldn't let herself be so closed minded around them -- if she even was. It was hard to tell what stemmed from her own judgement and what she wanted to believe about the pack. 

"Stop thinking so much," Quil groans, dropping a pillow over her face, and Andy giggles, shoving it away with a faux pout. "Pay attention to me, babe. Am I not pretty enough?" 

"Needy, needy," she teases, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "How do you know I'm not thinking of you?" 

"I can just tell," he grins. He pushes up on his elbow, leaning down so his face hovers over her own. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no, everything is perfectly fine."

He searches her face, peering down at her. "You sure." 

"Positive," she whispers, reaching up to draw his mouth down to meet her own in a slow kiss, falling into him. 

He turns her, rolling so that she was lying half on top of him, her leg coming to rest between both of his, hands sliding up along her back, cradling the small of her back as the other presses against her ribs. Quil is always so sure when he holds her like this, but it never stops his hands from trembling with each movement. She could feel the love with each brush of his fingers, each restrained grip at her hips, at her thighs. 

Andy always wonders if he could feel hers in turn, if her actions speak for her more than her words can. If there is any one moment, any one look that lets him feel her love. 

Because with Quil its everything, from every smile to every held hand. Each kiss to her forehead, each time he carefully moves her hair from her face. She can feel it in every moment, every second spent together -- and she knows she doesn't deserve it, will never deserve it, but she tries, tries to be the best she can for him. 

With Bella on her honeymoon, it was so much easier to let herself focus on him. Her nights and evenings were mainly spent at his side, or at least on the reservation as she followed Charlie for dinner with the Clearwater's. It wasn't so difficult to divide her time anymore, more so when he was in school and she was free to see the Cullen's. 

And she didn't mind wasting away the rest of her life at his side doing nothing so long as he stayed this happy. 

"Stop thinking so much," he mumbled against her lips, making his way along her jaw, working slowly down the column of her throat. 

He pauses, as he always does, and a shiver runs through her at the sensitivity of her scar, skin pimpling and hair raising at his attention. 

"I'm thinking about your homework," she teases, carding her fingers through his hair. "You still have so much that they're making you catch up on from last year."