by H. A. Wills
Chewing on my lip, I fidget with the leather strips of my skirt. “I, uh, didn’t know what to get you, so… um, I made you something. You don’t have to wear it or anything.”
He holds up the bracelet, chuckling softly as he investigates the bat beads, and proclaims, “Of course, I’m going to wear it.”
Dropping the gift bag on the floor, he starts working at the knotted clasp to loosen it enough for him to put on. I walk over to him so I can help tighten it, awkwardly aware of my fingers grazing the underside of his wrist.
When I’m done, he grabs my hands, holding them by my fingers and rubbing his thumb across my knuckles. “You don’t have to do this,” he murmurs. “I can find someone else.”
“I want to help,” I insist, with a stomp of my heel. “I can do this.”
“I’m sure you can. But should you?” he replies, his straight brows furrowing over his worry filled eyes. “Callie love, you’re so nervous, you’re practically tripping over your own tongue. Is this how it’s going to be every time we’re alone? You so skittish that just being near me has you trembling?”
“What?” I reply, then hang my head and groan, “I’m embarrassed, not nervous. What I said downstairs and how it sounded-- I didn’t mean for it...”
He looks confused as I trail off.
“The threat,” I grumble, ready for the floor to swallow me.
“Oh…” Nolan exclaims his gaze focusing on my mouth. He releases a breathy laugh and shakes my hands playfully. “How about this? I’ll let you call my bluff tonight, and we’ll make a pact. I won’t kiss you, and you won’t kiss me. Seriously, though, please stop apologizing. It’s making me feel bad.”
I nod, inhaling and exhaling a calming breath. “Deal.”
His gaze falls from my eyes to my bare legs, then he shifts awkwardly, clearing his throat. “I’m thinking sitting on my lap again may not be the best approach… What I, um, mean is, you know… I don’t want to get any blood on your costume or anything… with the wig and all.”
“What do you suggest then?” I ask, subtly transferring my weight back and forth from to foot to foot. There’s already a hot pain developing in the pads of my feet from standing too long in these dumb boots. “Please say it’s something that gets me off my feet.”
His eyes get caught on the sway of my hips, and he blinks a few times before they make their way back to my face. “I could get some towels, and um, we could try lying down… upstairs, not on the couch. More room.”
Giggling softly, I tease, “Now who’s nervous.”
He groans, dropping his head against my stomach. “I just… I know what my bite does, and I want to make you as comfortable as possible.”
Ignoring the butterflies that are going nuts inside me from the nearness factor of his face and… other things, I sigh, “Look, just do what you have to do. I’ll be fine. If you think lying down is the best option, then let’s do that. My feet are killing me.”
He tilts his head back, his chin still braced on my stomach. “At least the bite should help with that. I’ve been told on top of other things, the venom helps with pain.”
Yeah, that’s because the person is too distracted feeling all the other stuff.
Everything decided, Nolan picks me up bridal style to once again carry me up the stairs, playfully dropping me on his giant bed when we reach the top. I plaster on a friendly smile, determined to make this time not weird, while he heads to the bathroom to get towels.
I grab some pillows and lie down perpendicular to normal, keeping my shoes off the bed, and carefully move the tresses of my wig to one side. My heart begins to pound in my ears, memories of the time before washing through me. I’ll be fine. This will be fine. What’s a little blood between friends? Yeah, because that’s what I’m worried about.
Walking back out of the bathroom with a couple of beige towels, Nolan laughs when he sees me. “You could just take off your shoes, you know.”
I rock my head back and forth. “Nope, if I take them off, I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to put them back on. How do girls wear these?”
“Practice and willfully ignoring pain?” he answers, smirking.
Lifting up on my elbows so he can put one of the towels over the pillow, I inform, “Did you know high heels were originally for men only? Besides the added height, it was believed it made men’s calves more attractive.”
“I didn’t know that,” he humors me while helping with the wig as I lie back down. “I’ll remember that if I feel my calves are having a fat day.”
I giggle and he smiles down at me, his fake fangs still on display.
“You going to do something about those?” I question, tapping on my own incisors. “Why are you wearing fake ones anyway when you have real fangs?”
Nolan pops off the fangs in question, placing them on his nightstand, along with the wig on his head. While running a hand over his short blonde hair, he answers, “One, mine don’t look anything like movie vampire teeth, and two, the real ones are very sharp.”
He runs his tongue along his teeth, looking at my exposed neck with clear hunger, and I wonder if there’s a third reason he’s not sharing. It’s like he has to actively force his gaze away before he stands, turning his back to me. With careful movements, he takes off his dress coat and hangs it over the banister. He releases a careful breath and turns toward me, his normal always slightly amused Nolan face back on.
“Just gonna stand there or are we going to get this over with before people start search parties looking for you?” I huff in an attempt to shake this tension that keeps rising between us. Tucking my hands under my butt, I assure, “Look, my hands are underneath me so there won’t be any rogue lady-handling.”
He snorts and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, not what I was worried about. Also, lady-handling?”
“What? I’m a girl, so man-handling isn’t the right word,” I decree.
Nolan climbs on the bed next to me, and while draping the second towel over my chest, comments, “I’m pretty sure that’s not a word.”
“Is now,” I reply snootily, shifting my gaze to the ceiling and not on his bare chest. “Shakespeare made up words all the time.”
“Uh huh,” he hums in a distracted way.
After a long moment of him not doing anything, I peek at his face. He’s doing that angling his head different directions thing like he’s trying to figure what’s the best approach to biting me.
“Nolan,” I groan because the anticipation is getting ridiculous. “Do it already.”
He kind of laugh chokes, gasping, “Can’t say anyone’s said that to me… at least in that tone.”
“You see this,” I say pointing at my face. “This is me rolling my eyes so hard I can practically see grey matter.”
“Alight. Alright,” he chuckles, lying down beside me. “You appear to get quite testy when your feet hurt.”
“Yeah, it’s my feet that’s the problem,” I mutter.
With gentle fingers on my chin, he encourages me to look at him and searches my face. I narrow my eyes, then flick my tongue out at him lizard style.
He barks out another laugh, dipping his head next to mine, and mumbles, “I take it that means you’re ready.”
I don’t dignify that with a response, instead angling my chin up in what I think makes my neck look appetizing.
Nolan leans over me, bracing himself up on one elbow while his other hand rests on the other side of me, his chest brushing against mine. As his tongue slowly runs up my neck, my heart tries to leap out of my chest in response. I squeeze my eyes shut, attempting to think about anything boring. Math. Math is boring, right?
There’s no warning or hesitation when his teeth sink into my flesh, and the air whooshes out of my chest with an embarrassing half sigh/ half moan. The familiar sensation of warm pleasure slips along my veins, and instantly my body relaxes into the bed. My fingers tingle with the desire to touch him, and I grip the maroon blanket below me to keep from acting on
the impulse. I feel safe in his arms. It’s his turn to know he’s safe in mine… metaphorically.
He releases a throaty groan against my skin, which really isn’t helpful, as he feeds from me. With his teeth embedded in my neck, his mouth creates a gentle suction, lapping up most of the blood that drips from my flesh. The sensation and noises seem a lot like he’s kissing my neck, which is also not helping.
Despite our deal, the darker truth is I still want him to kiss me again. Over the past two weeks, the ache dulled to the back of my mind, buried under other things… and other interactions. But now, lying on his bed with his body hovering over me, the want is stronger than ever. I lick my lips, my breathing turning into little gasps. Trying not to think about the way his tongue undulates against my neck… and what it felt like inside my mouth, I go back to math.
What was that problem on the board Mr. Harris was seething over? I can only recall Donovan being all smirky about it once he finished another long-winded explanation. Unfortunately, this line of thought quickly works its way to that time in the gym and Donovan’s ‘hug’. His big hands running down my arms, holding my hips, slipping up and down my spine…
And that’s enough about math.
I bite my lip hard to keep from moaning, and though I’ve fisted the comforter in both hands, I can’t stop from arching my back to get closer to him. There’s a masculine purr in answer, and he presses back down into me, dropping from his hands to both elbows and hooking one leg over mine.
A sigh that sounds a lot like, “yes,” escapes from my mouth, and my bare thighs tighten around him, sliding back and forth against his black leather pants. The feel of his weight on top of me helps with the growing need to touch him, but it also turns out more than just my hands can get me in trouble. All it takes a subtle shift of my hips, and I’m pressing into his growing erection, encouraging something that is the exact opposite of what I want… or will want… later. Right now, I want him to touch me like before and more.
I will not jump him... again. I will not jump him again.
His hands slide underneath me, one braced under my neck and the other between my shoulders, his fingers searing my flesh. The towel starts to itch against my skin and my costume suddenly feels too tight. The want for more of his bare skin pressed against mine is tingling along every nerve.
Pressing my mouth tightly closed to keep from saying-- or possibly begging, what my body is currently desperate for, I feel like there are two people battling inside me: logic and instinct. I thought last time was bad, but that was nothing compared to this. Now, I know what it’s like to be lost in him. To drown in the feeling of us. To explore him without reservation. And I can’t do any of those things.
Instead, I’m using all my self-control to sit as still as possible. This is what he must have meant about not fighting the feeling because, holy crap, my body is not a fan of the no touching rule. With each panting breath, his chest expands against mine and I want to rip the towel away that separates us. A whimper I can’t stop rides up my throat, smashing into the back of my gritted teeth. His fingers flex at the sound, digging into my flesh.
Too soon or not soon enough, depending on which side of me that’s asked, Nolan finishes, humming with pleasure as he licks me clean. Saliva pools in my mouth wanting to run my tongue along his skin the way his runs along mine.
My fingers literally ache and tingle with how hard I gripped the comforter-- and probably because they were tucked underneath my butt. Slowly, I relax my hands and slide them out from under me. The need for him is so strong that, in what I hope is a happy compromise, I hug him, my hands spread wide between his shoulder blades.
“Are you okay?” he murmurs, a shiver running through me from the sensation of his warm breath against my ear.
Not even a little bit.
I clear my throat and pretending my voice isn’t strangely high, answer, “Yep. Fine. See, nothing to worry about.”
Still lying on top of me, he shifts so he can look into my eyes, and I swear he’s trying to murder me because he has that ‘I can make all your fantasies come true’ expression. I don’t think he’s doing it on purpose, but Christ on a cracker that look is dangerous.
“It’s okay if you’re not,” he whispers, his voice filled with a familiar purr that has lured many a girl to stalk him around town. “And it’s okay to touch me. I won’t hold it against you.”
Now you tell me.
“I’m going to uh,” I pant, the words embarrassingly breathy. I swallow heavily. “Need like a diagram of where I can and can’t touch you. I don’t want to… um, cross any lines... again.”
Nolan’s gaze drops to my parted lips, and my fingers dig into his back to keep from reaching up to pull his face to mine. His mouth opens and closes a few times, discarding whatever came to mind, before getting up to his knees.
He takes my hands that have slipped from his body and presses them to his stomach, my fingers automatically tracing along the lines of the hard muscles beneath. “Everything above the belt should be fine.”
“Should be,” I laugh throatily, and he gives me a suggestive smirk. Jerk!
He leans forward, bracing his weight on one hand near my hip, and slowly leads one of my hands up his chest, my free hand following along. His bedroom eyes keep flicking between mouth and eyes while he licks his lips. I lick mine in answer.
Danger! Danger! Danger!
I take in a shuddering breath as he moves closer, but he simply releases my hand and focuses on the towels, making sure there’s no blood on my costume. I’m sure later I’ll be grateful.
Because it’s too hard not to, I let my hands drift up his chest to his shoulders, one sliding down the arm that has his tattoo. “Is it okay for me to ask about this now?”
Nolan doesn’t bother looking, answering too casually, “It’s for Felix.”
“Can I look at it?” I request, my fingers already tracing along the unfamiliar rise and fall of the inked skin.
“Yeah, okay,” he sighs, twisting so that I can have a better look.
Unable to stop touching him, I examine the tattoo as much with my fingers as I do my eyes, gliding along the art that starts at his right shoulder and ends a few inches above his elbow. In the dim light of the room, the monochromatic tones of the ink take on a haunting quality. At the center lies an old-fashioned clock with the face cracked and gears exposed. Two dates in Roman numerals are carved into one of the gears. At the top of the gear is VI-XII-MMI and at the bottom is VII-XVIII-MMXVII. Surrounding the clock are angel wings, one white and one black, a wolf, and a bat chained to the clock as if together they can keep the fractured clock from falling apart.
The venom seems to heighten all of my emotions, and my vision becomes blurry with unshed tears when my fingers trace the dates that mark the span of Felix’s life. I sniff, and Nolan gathers me into his arms. Gratefully, I breathe him in, my face pressed against his neck.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper, my hands pressed flat against his chest. My insides churn in tumultuous waves, my physical need doing battle with the heavy weight in my gut over what must be done to help Felix.
“Connor does good work,” he replies quietly, his fingers skating up and down my back along the exposed portions of my costume.
“I’m going to miss Felix when it’s his time to go,” I confess, my hands slipping from Nolan’s chest to around his waist.
“Me too,” he breathes, then pulls back enough so he can see my face. “But he’s not gone yet, so let’s hold off mourning him until then, okay?”
“Is that what you’ve been doing? Holding off?” I ask, the words escaping before I can catch them.
“Trying to,” he replies with a tight smile, then presses a soft kiss to my forehead, which the hormone ridden side of me is thrilled about.
So that’s going to be a thing now. Awesome.
Nodding, I blink back any tears that are thinking of escaping. “So, um, we should probably get back to the party.”
&nbs
p; His eyes dance along my features, focusing a little too long on my lips again, before saying, “Yeah, uh, about that...”
That snaps me out of any of my remaining melancholy, and I reply, “Not a whole lot of good things tend to follow that phrase.”
“I know you said you’re fine, but you’re probably going to want to stick close to me anyway,” he opens, giving me a look that implies he doesn’t believe I’m really fine. Which is true. Then his expression grows sheepish when he confesses, “So you should probably know about the new rumor going around. I mean you should know anyway, but, uh…”
“Nolan,” I warn, though some of the impact is probably lost since I can’t seem to remove my hands from his skin-- and all the nerves of my body are aware of every place we touch.
He sighs, “The new rumor is that you’re sleeping with all of us, and by sleeping with, I mean…”
“Yeah, I get it. I’m a virgin, not an idiot,” I laugh. “Is that it? I’m not holding you all to gunpoint while we do it or anything?”
“Uh, no,” he answers slowly, clearly confused by my reaction. “You don’t care?”
“I would if you were the ones spreading it, but as far as rumors go, five... er, four attractive guys who all want to have sex with me is not that bad,” I comment with a shrug, then muse, “Weird rumor for Gina to make-up considering how she feels about you, though.”
“Actually, that’s the silver lining,” he declares with a waggle of his brows. “Gina didn’t make it up, and no matter what she does, she can’t seem to make it go away. The fact that it appears I’d rather share a girl with my three best friends over being with her has her literally ripping her hair out.”
“That is amazing” I hoot.
He stands up and while helping me to my feet, he asks with an amused smirk, “Want to go piss off Gina more?”
“Wait, she’s here?” I exclaim, adjusting my wig so hopefully, everything is in place. I will give the sexy venom one thing, I may want to climb Nolan like a tree but my feet don’t hurt anymore.