hell_in_highheels | [oom] New Moon

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oom,
ryan

[oom] New Moon

She's standing at the window, looking out over the Scottish landscape, watching the night sky. The moon is new, and without the competing light, the stars are spectacular. River kneels up on the window seat and touches the controls that bring the opacity down to zero. Starlight isn't as bright as moonlight, but it's still enough that she can make out the horizon. The landscape is stunning.

She settles back, sitting on her heels, arms crossed over her chest, hands rubbing her upper arms, smiling up at the night sky.

He said yes.

He said yes.

She can't help but wonder... What comes next?

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That, too, is a valid point.

Though, "How deep of a bite do you think it has to be?"

He had thought a simple nip would do it, but he supposes it would be better to be through the first time and not have to repeat it later should it not take.

"I don't know. I was hoping your instinct would guide us." She nips at the side of neck, breathing in his scent.

The whole discussion is making her tremble with anticipation. Her hands move over his shoulders, feeling the strength and power of him. She wants him, and she just wants it done.

He lets out a sharp whine (hey!) at the nip, jerking his head away. "I've never bit anyone," he admits. "And I'm rather not keen to repeat any of the methods I've seen." Then again, these are completely different circumstances from that. He frowns, trying to think of what might trigger the instinct to add to pack.

Perhaps she's right. Perhaps it is in the throes of passion and he's just misconstruing it because 'bite' has always meant 'food' before.

"You may have a point there, though."

She pulls back to look into his eyes, tilting her head at him a bit. "Listen to you, sounding all scientific."

Her eyes are bright and she smiles at him, her hand reaching up to touch his cheek.

"Instinct, love."

He gives her a dry little look.

"That's what I'm getting at. The only time I want to bite you is when I'm little more than instinct." He pauses. "I'd still rather nip your shoulder or sommat, though. For scarring reasons at the very least."

The other reason being in case he's wrong.

Her smile softens and her eyes search his face.

"I'm not worried about scars. And I'm not worried about you mistaking me for a bite of dessert. I trust you, Richard. With my life. And I trust your instincts."

And that's the difference between them, isn't it? He doesn't trust his instincts. Not that much, and she can see that on his face in the worry and doubt there.

At the same time, she seems to have her heart set on him doing it a certain way, and neither does he want to disappoint her. She only gets this opportunity once.

"Why don't we try and see what happens," he suggests at last.

She nods, her eyes closing for a moment. "And if it's not the right time, I trust you to know that, too. All right?"

She leans into him again, winding her arms around his neck and pulling him down to whisper against his cheek.

"I love you, Richard." I love you.

Love you. It occurs to him this would be easier if he didn't. He wouldn't worry so much, then. Or at all.

He focuses on her scent again, gently nuzzling the line of her jaw.

Love and longing, concern and worry, passion and desire and joy. The same scents he smelled on her that second night, standing at his door at midnight.

She dances in his arms, kissing his cheek, breathing him in even as her heart races.

He spoke of claiming her. She wants that. She wants to claim him as well, in her own way.

He follows her jawline down, then abruptly cuts up before he can reach her chin. The kiss is long and slow, firm, but not particularly fierce.

That will come later.

Her eyes close as she meets his kiss. Her embrace tightens on him at first but gentles as it continues, her body melting against him.

Breathing him in, she lets him fill her senses.

He pulls her against him, fitting her from against his own. He breaks the kiss to plant small, gentle ones up her cheek and across the bone under her eye until he reaches her ear.

He whurfles into it, ducking his head a bit to get at the scent pocket behind, where the pulse was.

She grins broadly at the whurfle, laughing under her breath, her head curling towards him. One hand caresses the nape of his neck, fingertips tracing spirals.

The feel of his breath sends a cascade of goosebumps down her throat and across the tops of her shoulders. She takes a deep breath and sighs, a deeply contented sound.

That's not a bad sound. There are others she could be making, though.

"Bed?" he murmurs before gently scraping teeth against her neck in little nips.

The question sends a shiver through her frame, the sensation only heightened by the feel of his teeth. Her scent flares with the wild hunger she feels for him. She pulls away just enough to meet his eyes, hands fisting in his shirt. Her voice is thick with emotion.

"Yes, please."

"All right."

The only warning she gets is a little mischievous grin.

Then in one smooth, quick movement, he's swept her up into a fireman's carry and headed off towards the bedroom.

Dom perks his ears as they exit the study. The alphas are being silly again.

"Richard!"

She barely gets out a gasp before she's upside down over his shoulder, her heels kicking in free air. She's grinning, laughing breathlessly, her fists pounding playfully on his back.

He practises his innocent tone. "Yes?"

Dom gets a silent greeting and then they're past the couch and almost to the door.

He has cause to move quickly.

He can tell by her scent she has no complaint. She loves this side of him, direct and unequivocal.

"I know where the bedroom is! And I'm not a sack of potatoes!"

"I am most definitely aware of that," he practically purrs, turning his head to nip her hip.

He's careful when he slips through the doorway to not bump any part of her on the frame. It wouldn't do to knock her out when the bed's right there.

He pauses just inside. "It'd be a shame to muss the covers. We made the bed so neatly this morning."

There's a little squeak at the nip. "Richard! The covers will survive. Put me down!"

She is laughing so hard she can barely breathe, squirming just enough to make a good show of it.

Dramatic sigh.

"If you insist." He sidles to the bed, then leans toward the shoulder she's on. With one arm up to control her fall, she slides off his shoulder and onto the comforter.

"Better?" His fingers trail paths along her legs.

"Almost," she purrs, pushing up to her elbows and inching higher on the bed.

She reaches up with a toe to pluck at whatever fabric she can reach, biting her lip as she looks up at him.

He sits in the little open space there is between her and the edge of the bed.

Is he really going to do this?

He twists, leaning in towards her for another kiss.

He thinks he is.

This kiss is a little fiercer than the last, and he pushes against her. His waist can only twist so far, though, and soon he has one leg on the bed so he isn't quite so contorted.

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