The Boy Movie Brahms Heelshire x reader FanFic

Part 55 - Dark Desires

The room is in darkness.  Your sitting on the end of the bed, staring into the glassy void of the full length mirror screwed to the wall.   This isn't your bedroom.   This is one of many guest rooms on the first floor of the mansion that you've never been in before.   Brahms led you here with mysterious breadcrumbs - little notes he's planted around the house.   You followed them...those little birds that are words; clues to where he wants to guide you.   You suspect he's trying to get your mind off the horrors surrounding you both.   You know it's one of his games, and the anticipation and uncertainty mingle inside you like some well shaken cocktail.

The house lies silent around you, as though you've been swallowed in the belly of some immense dead thing.   The bedroom door is closed as instructed.   The last note is clutched in your fist, Brahms's spidery writing ordering you to stare into the mirror and count until he comes to you.

"...89....90...91...92..."

You count in whispers, eyes flicking the length of the mirror.   It glints slightly as it reflects the minuscule light emanating from beneath the door from the hallway.   Your own self, a dark block of shadow, looks terribly small and vulnerable.

"...93...94...95...96..."

You sense he's near, and your heart kicks into a faster beat.    What will he do to you this time?  It seems an age since you both indulged in the twisted foreplay that always revolved around prey and predator.   It's how Brahms likes it, and is your enduring glory.    His sexual dominance of you should be repulsive but there's something so exquisitely juxtaposed between his sensual adoration and brutal power that not only can't you resist him, you yearn for more.

"...97...98...99...100."

You hold your breath, listening.   There!   In the corner of the room.   You can just make out the tall slender shape of him detaching from his hiding place near the window.    You smile in the dark.    Brahms has the uncanny ability to move like a cat - silent, fluid and graceful.   All you can hear is the soft pad of his bare feet as he moves across the carpet.   When the bed moves beneath you, you close your eyes and let your head roll back.   He's climbing up behind you now, and you feel his  body heat and a surge of desire so strong it feels like a punch to your stomach.

None of the men in your life ever produced this physical reaction...only him.   The chemistry between you is a tangible force, something that ties you both body and soul.    It's all you can do to calm your breathing.  The rise and fall of your breasts causes the silken fabric of your underslip to whisper  against your nipples.   Soon, his mouth will be there.  

You feel Brahms come up close, leaning down to kiss the back of your neck.   You open your eyes and there he is...reflected in the mirror, looming above you in silhouette.   Neither of you speak.  You rarely do in these moments.  What good are words when what you share has no description?   His  warm lips trace a line from your neck to the edge of your  right shoulder, grazing down your upper arm.   You feel the tumble of his curls against your cheek so incline your head into them to inhale his scent.   The memory of your first encounter reminds you of how he used to be...how dirty he was, unwashed,  filthy and gorgeous.  Even through the damage you saw him for who he really was, and he, you.   God, how you love this man!

Brahms runs the edge of his teeth up to your throat.  Your eyes are still glued to his image in the mirror.   Strong fingers explore the edge of your jawline, stroking tenderly until they find your mouth.  You part your lips and let him in, running your tongue over his nails.   He tastes clean and familiar, and you'd die for his mouth on yours.

Reaching up with both arms, you clutch at his head, dragging him closer.  He nuzzles the sensitive area between your neck and shoulder.   Your fingers run through the tangle of his hair, to the side of his face where his beard grows.  Then Brahms has you by the shoulders, and is dragging you up the bed where you lie submissive and so wanton you blush in the dark.    He's kneeling over you and you see the pale wink of his mask.   For a split second you wonder how he's managed to put it on so quickly after kissing you but then the cold porcelain presses against the smooth tender flesh of your belly as he pulls the slip from your body.  Down, down, he goes, and you determine to pull that mask off it he leaves it too long.  You want him...not that inanimate creation he hid behind for decades.   A low moan escapes you as his hands part your thighs.   It's as though every finger tip has ten more of its own!  Nerve endings tingle and the hot fizz between your legs is almost unbearable.

Now, he's stroking the erogenous  zone inside your knees and your moans turn to gasps.  You reach out and grasp his hair pulling him upwards, knowing you can't wait if he carries on.  The wanting of him is so acute, you're nearly in tears.   You murmur his name and he responds by lifting his head.  In the near dark you see the glint of his eyes behind the mask; paler than they've ever been.

"Brahms..."  

Then he's crawling up your body, spreading your knees wider with his.   The soft scratch of his chest hair tickles your breasts, his gentleness belies the passion you know is about to be unleashed.   Uncaring of how he takes you, you reach up to remove that mask but he pushes your hands away.   OK.  If this is how it is, fine.  You don't care.  You push up against him to feel how hard he is, then grab his back, pulling him close.    What's he waiting for?  

"Goddam you, Brahms!"  you whisper breathlessly, and you swear you can feel him grinning behind the mask.

His right arm finally encircles your waist to lift you to him.  The penetration is sharp and breathtakingly sweet..and so anticipated you almost come there and then.   He begins a  hard methodical, almost automated thrusting he's never used before.  It's completely at odds with his earlier lovemaking, but you have a physical need that's so urgent it doesn't matter how you do this.    And so you take from him what you need, and the release when it comes is the most powerful you've ever known.   Before your body has even finished, he rolls off you, the air  suddenly cold from the withdrawal of his flesh.   You lie in contented exhaustion, longing for a kiss.    You know it will come.   This is all part of the game - of his inventive sex play.  You reach out, find his hand in the dark and squeeze.   He squeezes back entwining his fingers around yours.

It's then that the door opens, flooding the room with light.    For a moment your brain doesn't compute what you're seeing.    Brahms is standing there, staring at your nakedness.   You whip up  your left hand, but there's no one holding it.    

The scream that comes out of you goes on and on and on....