‘It was so unlike her. It had frightened him.’

May 11, 2007 01:21


IT’S YOU AND ME
Adrian Ravensky & Charlotte Pederson

Her hands as they had rested at his waist had been oddly gentle, almost pleading in their tenderness, from the way her fingers had lightly hooked over the line of his jeans to the way her skin had brushed against his waist, warm and yet trembling. The way her head had touched to his chest, her ear poised to hear his heart, had been so uncharacteristic, and yet, at the same time, he had known this was simply a side of her he was not often permitted to see; it was a side of her the world was not permitted to see. It made her fragile. It made her vulnerable.

Charlotte Pederson did not do vulnerable.

But as she had stroked her hands up under his shirt, to lift it from his muscular torso, helping him to ease it over his head, he had seen the need in her eyes, the chocolate depths flushed through with icy flickers of blue, begging and hopeful. It was so unlike her. It had frightened him.

He hovered over her now, his manner affectionate; loving and gracious, his gentle attentions seeming so out of place with his large frame, and normally rough attitude; abrasive and even downright obnoxious. Her fingers raked through his feral brown hair, dragging through the spikes as he breathed deep, drinking in her powerful scent, laced with desire and passion, and as he bowed to kiss her neck, grazing her shoulder with his teeth, he heard her low, steady gasp, her back arching so her body pressed to his.

With one hand grazing her smooth hip beneath the sheets, his lips found hers, and her fingers smoothed down from his shaggy mane to his cheek, and over his jaw; over the scratchy beard that she often teased him about, before her attentions were back in his hair, clutching. Claiming. Her fingers pressed into the back of his neck, holding him down to her, wanting, and as his hands pressed down to the mattress, she moaned softly against him. Their lips parted and her head dropped slowly back to the pillows, her dark curls splaying around her, and he bowed again, to kiss her collarbone, and to nip and graze at her neck and jaw, hearing the sounds of her breathing, becoming swift, her hips curving up to meet his.

She kept her hold on him, one hand at the back of his neck, as if she feared he would pull up and away; the other pressed down between his strong shoulder blades, keeping him close to her.

Adrian Ravensky would never pull away from her. Even if she released him from her hold, he would never leave. He couldn’t leave her. Many times, the male lycanthrope had thought himself physically incapable of leaving her.

Whatever she needed, he would give it to her; whatever she wanted, he would find it for her. No hesitations. No questions asked.

He was hers, and she was his; they had come to belong to each other, bound by more than friendship and loyalty. They stood, side by side, through thick and thin; darkness and light; fight or flight. They would never part. Not now.

They were wolves. They were mates.

And wolves, devoted to the end, mated for life.

game: halfway house, character: adrian ravensky, pairing: adrian/charlotte, character: charlotte pederson

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