The Boy Movie Brahms Heelshire x reader FanFic

What is Forged - Part 59

Brahms carries you upstairs.    At first you resist when he tries to pick you up.   You're  ashamed and embarrassed that fear has made  you wet yourself, but he brushes aside your protests and sweeps you up to the bathroom.   In the dark, he undresses you, slowly, tenderly; wiping at your tears that don't seem to want to stop.   The bath he runs is warm and scented, thick with bubbles.   He lights a candle on the windowsill.  The flickering light is soft and kind.    The old bathtub is deep, and the water comes up to your breasts.    Brahms sits on the floor, his elbows resting on the edge of the tub, staring at you intently.   "It's gone," he says.   

You nod.  "Did you see it?"

"I wish I hadn't."

"Nobody would believe us if we tried to tell."

"Nobody will know."

 "If not for you I might have had to fight that horror alone.  I wouldn't have been able to.  What the hell was it."

"It's gone."

Your face screws up with emotion.  "What would I do without you?"

He continues to look at you, his eyes flickering this way and that.   You wonder what he's really thinking.    Tears course down your cheeks and drip off your chin. They glisten in the candlelight like silver streams.

Brahms gets to his feet.  You watch him straighten up that long body, following him with your eyes as he steps, fully clothed, into the water with you.   You almost smile.   He never fails to surprise you!   That old fashioned tub is deep and wide, and he wraps his legs around you, pulling you close.  Water sloshes over the edge and onto the floor, but neither of you care.  You pull your own legs up and over his, the pair of you slotting together like a well loved jigsaw.    Brahms presses his forehead to yours...a gesture that seems to connect his soul to yours.   His hair smells freshly washed, the warmth of him redolent with his own unique male scent.   You lift  your face, pressing your  cheek against his.   He inclines his head until his lips are inches from yours.  "I love you."

With a sob you rest your head against his chest.   He understands and lets you cry.   Just being held by this man feels like the only place you ever want to be.   Outside, it's beginning to get light and the dawn chorus begins.    

Brahms puts his mouth to your crown, kissing you gently.   Gradually, the tears cease and you gaze up at him.   The kiss that comes next is long and deep, and you don't ever want it to end.   When you finally break, there so much longing in his eyes you let yourself relax, draping backwards into the water.   You watch him gaze down at your naked body, then up again to your face.   With those mismatched eyes anchored to yours, Brahms rears up, water cascading from him.   He pulls off his soaking sweater.   You watch mesmerised as clots of lather slide down his torso, every muscle taut and shining, his chest heaving as he breathes.   Your gaze drops to the dark line of hair that meanders from his navel down into his jeans.   Then Brahms is unfastening  them.   You know there's nothing beneath and the thought makes you moan inside.   Now, he's pressing down, pinning you to the cold enamel of the bathtub.   You hiss as his mouth goes to your breasts.   In the candlelight that dark hair glistens.   You grip his head on either side, clutching those curls with your fists.   When he raises his head, the look of lust on his face makes you gasp.    But you have a passion to match his.    In this moment, you belong to him, utterly.   It's an emotion as old as humanity; Yin and Yang,  the ultimate sharing of mind, body, spirit.  You are equals because  his need to take is balanced by your desire to give.   Slowly, wantonly, you spread for him.   Brahms hesitates for only a moment...then thrusts so deeply you cry out.   

You clutch the sides of the tub until your knuckles turn white.   The water is a maelstrom of foam  so slick and sensual it's like nothing you've ever experienced.  The muscles in Brahms' biceps bunch and flex as he grips you.   His breath labours.   You raise your knees to wrap your legs around his waist.   Can he go any deeper?   Oh, but he does...

Even at the height of what comes next, you marvel at the strength of your emotions for him and how this all came about.   This strange, remarkable man with his dangerous facets and depths so dark you suspect you'll never really get to plumb them all.   But what he shares with you, for now, is enough.    You have bonds that most never forge in a lifetime.   

When at last it's over, you both relax into the bubbles.   Most of the water is all over the bathroom floor.  You peer over the brim of the tub and say with mock gravity, "This is all your fault!" 

Brahms gives you one of his rare, precious smiles, then  kisses the end of your nose.  

Well, devoted readers.   Our Brahms and you have had many adventures, faced many challenges, and weathered conflicts within and without.   Where can you go now?  What's left to do?