Path of the Vampire forum

[ALEKSANDRA]
“The blonde one,” she repeated slowly, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she used her free hand to push a mess of damp curls from her face. With the rain no longer pouring down and threatening to drown them its fury, she could finally make out the shape of his car – and the surrounding buildings. The windows were still closed, the curtains drawn tight. It was as if no one dared to risk Mother Nature’s wrath – no one was that insane, that reckless – except for them. “You’re observant.” The amusement was still there, even as her phone gave one final chime before the battery gave out.

“Well, new narrows it down. I’ll just look for anyone that I don’t recognize,” she hummed thoughtfully, “with blonde hair. You did happen to notice the gender, right?” She was openly teasing him now, her laughter genuine and warm as she allowed their fingers to untangle. If she were being honest – at least to herself – she hadn’t remembered she was even holding his hand. The connection was as natural as breathing had used to be for her. Once her hand was free, she used it to tug on her shirt, making sure the wet, thin material covered what it could so she didn’t flash the city as she slid into her seat.

At first, she was concerned of the mess she was making of his seats – but if he had thought about it at all, he wouldn’t have suggested they get inside. Tipping her head back against the rest, she closed her eyes for a second, allowing herself to get lost in the sound of the rain pelting against the roof. Though it had slowed, it was still steady enough to calm her, the steady music easing whatever tension was left in her muscles. Turning her gaze to his as he slammed his door closed, she couldn’t stop the eye-roll as the irritation cut through the quiet like a knife. “You seriously can’t blame me for asking, babe.”

Her tone was still light, even as she curled her fingers against her bared thighs. For a moment – a brief moment – she had forgotten how difficult he could be. How difficult –this- would be. It didn’t deter her, though. He was worth it – they were worth it. She wasn’t going into this blind. “You aren’t exactly forthcoming, and it’s not like you’re uncomplicated.” Chuckling, now, she reached across the seats to rest her hand on his knee, though the touch was brief before she started to pull away. “Kissing someone doesn’t always mean that they’re in a relationship, that they’re committed. You should know that. I think we are, I’d like for us to be, but I’m not going to assume that’s what you want.”


[BLAIZE]
Blaize would beg to differ, in so many ways. They sat still in the car, unmoving, as he registered and deconstructed Aleksandra's argument. Complicated? He was far from complicated -- at least in his own mind. He was focused on one thing, and if people didn't know what that one thing was then they were blind, or they didn't know him at all. Beyond that one thing, everything else paled in comparison and his care waned. It was only when his selfishness became somewhat less prominent that a person might get the hint that he gave the slightest **** about them, or about something other than ballet.

"Of course I know that," he said. If kissing someone meant he was commited, he'd have been in huge trouble. "You know that conversation we just had where I repeatedly told you that you weren't like other women and that I didn't want to toss you aside?" he asked, brows arched and stare intense, inquisitive. Waiting for the ball to drop, for Aleksandra to figure it out on her own. But continued anyway. "Do you think I've changed my mind and I chased you down in the storm because I decided that no, I do actually just want to **** you then leave the next night and pretend like nothing ever happened...?" he asked, then shook his head, sighed. The keys jangled in his grip as he finally started the car. Despite its age, it came to life smoothly, no sputtering. He secured the seatbelt over his chest.

"I've never been in a relationship and I've never been committed," he said, eyes now on the road. This was not a conversation he wanted to have, nor did he think it was strictly required. Actions spoke louder than words, and all Aleksandra had to do was wait. But then, Blaize wasn't exactly up to date with how one should be in a relationship, so perhaps she was right to ask. Maybe it never would have been clear. "But once I make a decision, it's final. You're not like other women. I don't want to toss you aside," he said with a shrug and a glance sideways. "I won't sleep with other women and you won't sleep with other men and beyond that it's a learning curve," he said. For him, anyway. It might not be something Aleksandra needed to learn.

[BLAIZE]
If it were anyone else, Blaize knew that he'd have made her wait. He'd have gone for a shower; he'd have got all the dirt off him because he wouldn't have wanted to dirty the couch. Or the bed. Or wherever it was that they ended up. As it was, the mud that was left was drying and flaking off with every movement. And he couldn't seem to care. But then again, if it were anyone else, they wouldn't be in his apartment. If Aleksandra only knew that she was the only other person to have set eyes on this space...

Perhaps, eventually, she would find out. No words were allowed exit as soon as her hands raked through his hair. There needed no more invitation as his lips once more encompassed hers, blunt teeth nipping at her pout before re-engaging in the embrace they had ended too soon at the studio. Again, his arms were wrapped around her, lifting her up off the floor, bringing her up to his height. Rather than stand still this time, however, bare, dirty feet carried her across the open space until they were in the lounge room. The black couches were made of leather and would thus be cold upon first contact, but would soon heat up.

Or so he assumed.

He didn't want to be too presumptuous by carrying her through to the bedroom, and he'd have preferred the dirt to come off on the couch than in the sheets they'd have to sleep in. There, he was being presumptuous -- assuming not only that she would stay, but that they would stay in the same bed. He lowered Aleksandra over the arm of the couch and was quick to follow, body pressed against hers as his fingers raked her thigh, digging into the flesh she had so meanly taunted him with earlier. The game was up. Now there was no holding back.


[ALEKSANDRA]
The second their lips met, every doubt she had within the minutes before vanished in a cloud of dust. It was unlikely that he could kiss her as he did and truly want her. Unable to quiet the soft sound that escaped her throat, she dropped her hands to the back of his neck and held on as he lifted her, legs automatically winding around his waist. Snaking one hand back into his hair, she dug her nails delicately into the soft skin of his skull, tongue swiping across his after the jolting nip he tortured her with. It had only been a short hour since the last time she tasted him, but it felt as if it had been an eternity.

It wasn’t healthy for her, the way she found herself craving everything about him. She had never been that girl that needed to touch her man every second, to have their lips constantly fused together, but as he kissed her with fervor, she couldn’t imagine ever being without him. Would that make him run, if he knew the thoughts that were twisting in her mind every time they kissed? She wasn’t prepared to find out. Tangling her fingers tighter into his hair, she gasped against his kiss when the cool of the leather pressed to her skin, sending a shock through her heated system.

The distraction only lasted a second, and she was wrapping her arms around him, pulling him closer to her, though there wasn’t a single centimeter of space between their bodies. The sudden onslaught of his nails against her thigh had her back arching, a soft, unmistakable moan vibrating from her throat. Curling her fingers as she dropped them to his shoulders, she dug them into the tensed muscle there, her kiss becoming more certain, more aggressive.


[BLAIZE]
Vampires did not need to breathe, and Blaize knew it, too. They could kiss for hours and not have to come up for breath. All thirst was forgotten, completely. Bloodlust could never trump this fire that consumed his limbs, crawled through his insides and consumed him whole. Aleksandra's back arched and Blaize's fingers dragged down the line of her spine. The wetness of her clothes -- of his -- squelched against the leather of the couch. His finger hooked into one of the tears -- the ones purposefully designed that way -- and there was a rip as the tear widened. He hadn't meant to. It was his own shirt, however, and right now he could care less if it was ruined.

Smooth lips broke free from Aleksa's, not for breath but so that he could taste her flawless skin; he kissed a hot trail down the line of her jaw. He kissed her neck, pulled aside the shirt to nip at her shoulder. And then he kissed his way back again, a satisfied groan rumbling in his own throat as his tongue swiped at Aleksandra's lips, and proceeded to seek hers. Though, there was something about their position by which he was not getting when he needed; he couldn't touch her the way he wanted to. When he broke the kiss a second time, it was only so that he could haul Aleksandra up, manhandling her in the best kind of way. He had her by the waist, rearing backward until he was properly seated, encouraging Aleksandra onto his lap.

Now, that was better. He had the look of the cat who got all the cream, eyes on fire as he pushed his fingers through her hair -- effectively undoing the braid she'd knotted it into earlier -- fingers that soon hooked behind her neck to guide her lips back to his. And then there was no telling what his hands would do, where they would roam, though he tried his best to stay within the bounds of respect. "You're in the lead," he said, finally, growling against Aleksandra's lips, his fingers curling into a fist in her damp hair. "We won't do anything that you don't want to. We can go slow. If you want..." he said. It sounded stupid after he'd said it. It certainly didn't feel like either of them wanted to go slow.


[ALEKSANDRA]
It was hard to think clearly when his hands gripped her body so perfectly. As his lips devoured her own, his fingers seeking comfort in the dark tangles of her hair, she couldn’t fathom a single reason why they needed to slow down. As it was, her body was pressing against his, hands sliding down the smooth expanse of his chest, nails raking against the taut skin. Shifting her legs so that her knees pressed into the couch on either side of him, bare skin sliding against the dampened leather, she broke away.

It wasn’t a second before her lips were on him again, trailing kisses – just as he did earlier – along his jaw. Dropping them over his chin, collar bone – and finally, his throat – she returned the nip from earlier with a sharp bite of her own. The pressure was just enough so she didn’t break the skin, and in the back of her mind, she knew whatever bruise she might have formed there would heal in a matter of seconds. Pulling her teeth from the mark she had made, she brushed her tongue along the sensitive skin before beginning that heated trail back to his lips, where she chuckled deviously when she kissed him again.

“We should stop,” she said suddenly, though her hands worked on their own accord, dipping lower between their bodies. Her fingers sought out the edge of his tights, the tips dipping between his skin and the band before she suddenly pulled away. Swiping her tongue across his, she nodded half-heartedly, as if agreeing with her earlier statement. They should stop. She should crawl off of him, he should run to the shower, and they should rest. They shouldn’t give in to the need coursing them through. She wasn’t every other girl, and he definitely wasn’t every other guy. This should be different between them – the slow build would burn until they finally gave in, and then they would be consumed.

If only she could pull away from him now.


[BLAIZE]
Blaize wasn't expecting the sharp, strong bite -- he could have sworn she broke skin, his fingers digging into her flesh as a short shout crawled from his ravaged throat. All he wanted to do was rip the shirt from Aleksandra's back but it stayed put, the tear he'd already created leaving her back open to the air. He might have torn the shirt a little more, enough so that his roaming fingers could caress bare flesh. Fingers that itched either to unhitch her bra, or at least the buckle of the belt that held the shirt so securely to her body. She laughed against his lips and suggested they stop, and he had to breathe, to rememebr that they had all the time in the world. And wasn't it true that the longer one had to wait for satisfaction, the better it was when they finally got it?

But then her hands were sliding over his torso, dipping beneath the hem of his tights. They needed to come off anyway, eventually -- washed, if they could be cleaned. Her actions were in contradiction to her words; but they were words that she had spoken, words that she must have felt to be true. He had told her she was in the lead. So he took another a deep breath and held it, before releasing it slowly. Schooling himself, and his patience. And he had patience -- reams of it.

His hands slowly withdrew from her skin; fingers pushed through her hair, curling behind her neck as he leaned in for another kiss. This time it was slow. He kissed like he meant it -- because he did mean it. When was the last time he had kissed a woman like this? A kiss, just for a kiss. It was not bereft of her heat or passion, but he'd banished all urgency. It was fuelled by care, by respect, rather than by uncontrollable lust. The kind of kiss that made him feel something that was not basic, or instinctive. It was foreign to him, and sent a shiver -- a pleasant one -- down his spine. When he broke free it was with a smile -- an almost shy smile, sheepish.

"I'll go shower," he said. "The bedroom is down the hall -- you can raid my closet. There's an ensuite in there, too, if you want another shower..." he said, his fingers trailing down her thigh, over her calf to tickle at her feet. She may not have been covered in mud, but she had been walking in it.


[ALEKSANDRA]
Unable to have her actions follow her words, her fingers remained against his skin, taunting him – even as he began to heed her thought. She could feel the sudden shift in his demeanor, the way his muscles began to relax beneath her touch, his chest expanding with oxygen he didn’t need. That was how she knew he was reeling himself in. His hands that had been banded against her flesh slipped from the torn shirt and crawled up the back of her neck, the touch no longer urgent. It had a certain tenderness to it, causing her own fingers to finally stall in their lustful search for connection.

He was exactly what she needed – someone to pull her back from the edge, to keep her sane. Where she was passionate and emotional, he was passionate and controlled. He had discipline, and it was that discipline she saw now as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her with sweetness. Though it still sent a shock through her system, it was more of steady current then the bolt of power that had consumed her prior. Allowing herself a moment to control herself, she rested her forehead against his when the kiss finally broke, darkened blue eyes scanning the sheepish curve of his lips.

Someone else would have remarked on it, would have asked him what that soft smile meant, but she knew. She didn’t need to hear his words to know what he felt. It had been foolish of her to ask earlier. Brushing her fingers through his blonde hair, she watched the strands slide across pale skin with a quiet hum. “I do think I’d like the brown,” she remarked quietly, before shifting on his lap as his fingers found the arch of her feet. “Stop that!” Her laughter was genuine, and as she smacked at his chest, she began to crawl from him, shaking her head. “Let’s go shower so we can get to bed before the sun rises.”


[BLAIZE]
Blaize peered up at Aleksandra. There was something so soothing about her fingers in his hair, like he wanted to hum, to purr at the same time. His blink was slow, soft -- he had been teasing, but now he truly considered it. Brown. Even the word sounded boring. Could he really? Was he really so vain that it mattered? Yes. Yes he was. And then she was shifting, moving away, truly horrified that he should touch her feet the way that he had. And he grinned, because he now knew her weakness. One of her weaknesses. She was ticklish. He wondered if she were ticklish anywhere else -- and looked forward to finding out. He allowed her to crawl from his lap, once against exhibiting control.

He dared not look down as he stood; dared not check to see how strong his tights were, or what they could hide. He disallowed Aleksandra much time to witness what he would not verify for himself; as soon as he was free from the couch he headed for the bathroom. Aleksandra's statement left a lot open to interpretation. Let's, she said. We. The grin remained steadfast. She made it sound like they would be doing both together. Whatever the case, he left it up to her. "Mm, best to fall asleep in a comfortable bed rather than on the cold floor. I agree," he said, throwing the words over his shoulder as he disappeared from sight.

The main bathroom was down the hall, and it was the one that Blaize opted to use. He slipped inside and closed the door, though he didn't close it fully. Nothing could be seen through the miniscule crack, but still -- it was not entirely closed. Blaize turned on the water before he undressed, to allow it to heat up. The steam started to build at the tiles even as he peeled the dirty tights from his legs -- allowing freedom and better blood flow. It was, honestly, a relief to be out of them, as accustomed as he was to wearing them. The hot water, too, was a relief as he stepped into, washing the cold -- and the mud -- from his limbs.


[ALEKSANDRA]
She wouldn’t deny that the thought of showering together hadn’t crossed her mind; however, as much as she wanted to step through the door and join him beneath the spray, she knew she shouldn’t. Or, was it couldn’t? She could easily join him, fingers slipping along his wet skin, but they weren’t ready. If she were to go there, take that last step, they’d have no control. Instead, she brushed her fingers along the door as she passed; the spark of what could be vibrating through her as she continued down the hall. Once her feet touched the entry to his room, she gripped the edge of her shirt and pulled it free, fingers carefully inspection the various tears as she headed for the bathroom. While he /had/ torn it, it was still wearable – at least around the house or for a quick dash to the market, so instead of tossing it, she folded it.

“He’s not getting it back,” she chuckled, her voice echoing off the bare tile as she stepped into the shower. She didn’t bother to stay too long beneath the spray – after all, she’d already had one shower for the day – and instead, once the mud was washed from her skin and her hair was rinsed with whatever product he had on the shelves, she stepped out, one hand blindly reaching for a towel while the other wiped the water from her eyes. Feeling the soft material against her fingertips, she yanked it from the hanger.

Normally, she would have dried her skin and tossed on her clothes – but as she brought the towel from her hair, she realized she hadn’t stopped by the closet. Standing in uncertainty for a minute, she finally sighed and wound the towel around her body, carefully holding it closed as she stepped from the bathroom. The chill of the bedroom brushed over her skin as she quickly made her way to the closet, silently hoping there was something comfortable that offered enough coverage – that was within reach.


[BLAIZE]
Blaize listened for her footsteps -- as they approached, then passed. He didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed. The heat dissolved the filth from his body, soap scrubbing at the particularly stubborn bits of mud, though he had to guess and presume that he'd got all the dirt from his back. It was a good thing that he was flexible, and the sponge could reach every inch of it. The last twenty seconds were spent standing in scaldingly cold water, his breath catching in his throat before it was released in a gasp. He'd have preferred to step out into his cold, empty apartment still tingling from the heat of the shower's spray, but the cold was a requirement. If he was to be presentable.

Eventually stepping out of the spray, Blaize reached for the towel -- big, white, fluffy -- and soaked all the water from his skin. He tugged it back and forth across the expanse of his back, just to be triple sure that all mud was dislodged. Only then did he realise he would have to meander back to his bedroom to get his bedclothes. How many times that night had they talked about walking around in towels -- or avoiding it? And now here he was, wrapping the towel around his waist and tightly securing it. When he opened the door steam billowed out behind him. The tiles were cold under his feet as he wandered through to the bedroom and, lo and behold, ran into Aleksandra doing the same thing he was. Looking for clothes.

"Fancy meeting you here," he said with a devious grin. He reached over her shoulder, body momentarily pressed to hers -- because he couldn't resist the urge -- to pull a black, long-sleeved bed shirt from the hanger. He draped it over Aleksandra's shoulder. "For you, m'am," he said, before he pulled out another similar shirt, this one grey, for himself. Hanging beside the grey shirt was a pair of long trousers, accentuated with darker grey stripes. Most people would keep these sorts of things in drawers, but Blaize liked to know where everything was -- and he detested folding. His underwear was in a drawer, of course. But he didn't generally wear bedclothes with underwear. He'd been wearing tights all night. He required some freedom.

Deviousness written all over his features, Blaize turned his back on Aleksandra; the shirt was over his shoulder, and as he stepped into his trousers and pulled them up, the towel fell away. If she was paying attention she might have caught the barest glimpse of a sharply defined backside. Wasn't that why male ballet dancers were coveted? Their backsides? No sooner had the towel thrumped to the floor and the shirt was pulled over his torso. Fully dressed, for the first time in hours.


[ALEKSANDRA]
The way a man handled his clothes said a lot about him. Some were particular in how they hung up their shirts, and which side of the closet their ties went – those were the business men. Others would toss their clothes across the floor, or leave them bundled in the corner for easy grabbing – the college boys. Then, there was Blaize. As her gaze traveled the sleep clothes that swayed in the dark of his closet, she couldn’t seem to fit him into any one category. While she hadn’t been with many men – the ones she had never tended to hang up their pajamas. In fact, they usually left them folded in a dresser next to the bathroom.

Who cared about wrinkles when you were going to bed?

Shaking her head with amusement, she began to lift her arm, fingers reaching for a random shirt – when she felt his chest press to her back. The chill of his skin sent a shiver racing through her, one that electrified her when his voice brushed across her ear. “You should be illegal,” she heard herself whisper, voice, though quiet, cutting through the silence like a knife as she leaned into him. It wasn’t a lie. No man should be as graceful as he was, with a voice like rich velvet and a body she just couldn’t keep her hands off. And by some grace of god, this gorgeous specimen wanted her. He had /chosen/ her.

It was enough to make her melt, even while she was filled with anxiety. Pushing the latter aside, however, she lifted her free hand to brush through his hair, even as she felt the cloth touch her shoulder. “I feel like you’re stalking me,” she teased, her eyes glinting with that familiar mischief as she allowed him to pull away. As he turned his back to her, she traced her eyes down his spine, to the brief swell of his backside. Normally, she wasn’t into that part on a man – her attention was usually caught by the muscle, the eyes, and the smile – all of which he had. However, his body was toned in a way that drew her eye, and that *** of his was just an added perk that just added to the list of reasons why she couldn’t believe he was hers.

With his back turned to her, she didn’t see the reason why she needed to step into the bathroom. Instead, he began to unfold the shirt that was carefully selected for her. Using one hand to hold it up for inspection, she nodded in approval to herself. While it wasn’t what she’d normally wear – her clothes were at the apartment. Not that she was even considering complaining. The second she lifted the shirt, she caught the faintest scent of him, and it was better than the silk material they’d helped her buy. Following his lead, she slowly began to unwind the towel, allowing the thick material to fall to the floor. Taking her time slipping her arms through the shirt, she pulled it above her head and allowed it to fall slowly down her torso. Though it wasn’t the camisole’s she normally wore – it was, at least, comfortable.


[BLAIZE]
If there was one thing Blaize enjoyed about being a vampire, it was the feel of clean linen against his skin. Like every other sense, the sense of touch was also heightened. There was comfort in clean clothing, clothing that was made specifically to be comfortable. Clothing to sleep in. As soon as it settled over his skin he wanted to crawl beneath the heavy doona and close his eyes; it reminded him of the days he was too exhausted to even eat, the days sleep would claim him as soon as his head hit the pillow because he'd pushed himself to his absolute limit. These days, that limit was hard to reach, and only the sun could steal all his energy. It didn't register with Blaize, either, when his clothes were a little looser than they should be, or when fatigue hit him faster than usual due to a thirst he steadily denied. He didn't yet look malnourished, but give it another few nights and he'd be well on his way.

He expected that Aleksandra would have done the same as him; that she'd have pulled the shirt over her head before she allowed the towel to drop. When he heard it land, he began to turn. Out of the corner of his eye he was witness to the long line of her body, the arch of her neck with her arms lifted over her head, the sumptuous curve of her breast, the healthy swell of her hip, and legs for days. Even if she was short, her legs were killer. All he wanted to do was watch and yet, he quickly lowered his eyes until the black had descended. His hair had fallen over his eyes again, and his head was still bowed when he looked up. His lips were only slightly parted, and if he was breathing it was a breath that he now held.

"Good. Okay," he said, finally, coughing to clear his throat. The black night shirt might cover the naked curves he had so briefly been witness to, but he could still see them. Like he had x-ray vision, and that memory was burned into his retina. He closed the door, turning the bedroom into a light-tight box. There were no windows. He tried not to think about the fact that Aleksandra was not wearing any underwear. A glance a the clock over the dresser declared the time to be 5:50am -- the sun would rise soon. Half an hour, maybe less.

The bed was queen sized and the quilt was feather and down, thick and heavy. The sheets were top quality -- they were cotton, but felt like silk. The pillows, too, were made of duck down. The softest pillows one could ever have the luxury of sleeping on. Blaize pulled back the quilt. "This is the only room in the house that gets no sun," he said, gesturing to the side of the bed that would be Aleksandra's. "I won't try anything. We've got about half an hour until that sun rises and ... well, half an hour isn't satisfying to anyone," he said. Truth be told, half an hour was probably plenty of time. But not with Aleksandra. Not when he wanted to treat her better than he treated all the rest.


[ALEKSANDRA]
“Even if you did try, babe, you wouldn’t get very far,” she laughed, the sound tired as she stepped to her edge of the bed. It had only taken a second for her eyes to adjust to the absolute darkness, and once she had, she ran her fingers along the sheets. They were like satin beneath her touch, but she could feel the cotton fibers that intertwined each piece together. Pressing her knee to the edge of the mattress, she hoisted herself up and crawled into place, her back to the pillow that had been offered. “I could have taken the floor if you’d have been more comfortable.” There was certain nervousness to her words as she pushed her hand through her hair and pulled the curls over one shoulder, teeth sinking into her lip.

Already, she could feel the moon’s power leave her as it started to wane, the rays of the sun threatening to take what was left of her awareness. Though there wasn’t a window in the room for it to harm her, the memory from Australia plagued her. The feel of the heat against her skin had been excruciating, and while she obviously hadn’t died, it had been close. There had been so many factors that morning, and each one of them had weakened her. It felt as if she were starting over and while it should have frightened her – she felt as though she was getting a second chance. It was a chance to be better, to be stronger – and perhaps, it meant she would survive this newfound life after all.

None of it mattered in that moment, however. With the sun only minutes away, she couldn’t keep her eyes open. Even as she knew she should spend every moment with him, to ensure that he had meant for her to be in this bed with him, she couldn’t bring herself to move. Instead, she turned her head in the darkness, her smile, while sweet, was tired as she gazed up at him from beneath her thick lashes. “Come on; let’s at least get comfortable before the sun rises. I promise to keep my hands to myself. I know you need your rest for dance.”


[BLAIZE]
Aleksandra was tentative; Blaize could hear the nerves in her voice. It amused him, but it was infectious, too. He slid into the bed like he normally did. The bed he'd slept in the day before, and the day before that. How long had it been since he'd washed the sheets? Did it matter? He was the only one who slept in it. He showered, but even if he didn't shower, he didn't sweat. They were as clean as they could be, regardless of how long ago they were washed. Rather than sit up the same way Aleksandra was, Blaize rolled over onto his side, one arm curled up underneath his pillow, now plumped as his head landed against the softness. He wouldn't pull the blankets up until Aleksandra was settled, too.

"The sun's going to be up. I'll be dead to the world and doesn't matter where your hands are, it'd take a hell of a lot to wake me up, or disrupt my rest. I'm not letting you sleep on the floor," he said. He pulled his lower lip between his teeth, regarding Aleksandra silently. Whatever nervousness he might have been infected with did not last long. Ultimately, he was a man who had supreme confidence in himself. It didn't matter that this situation was unfamiliar to him. It was completely new, in fact. Sure, he'd 'slept' with women in beds but he never stayed there. He never closed his eyes and woke up the next night with them by his side. He always left, or they left. He always went to sleep alone.

"Besides," he said, hesitating as he considered his words. He's sucked in a short breath, head digging into the pillow. He was holding the blanket up, waiting for Aleksandra to slide down into the cocoon with him. "If we're giving this a go, you've got to teach me how to spoon. That's a thing, right?"


[ALEKSANDRA]
“It is a thing. It’s also referred to as cuddling,” she teased, watching as he slid into bed. When it dipped beneath his weight, she scooted closer to him, eyes on the quilt that he had lifted. She knew what he wanted. It was only logical that she slide beneath the covers, roll onto her side, and close her eyes. The only problem was – she couldn’t bring her body to move. It was frozen in place, her palms on either side of her, fingers bent for purchase so she could slip further into the warmth he was offering.

It just wasn’t happening.

This is foolish, she thought blandly. It wasn’t the first time she’d been in bed with a man, and unlike her new boyfriend, it wasn’t the first time she’d slept over. The notion shouldn’t have created an army of butterflies in her stomach, nor should it have made her hesitate for something as simple as this. If she couldn’t make it through the days with him, how on earth did she expect this to work? Releasing a pent up breath – one that she knew he would hear filled with her anxiety – she finally pried her hands from the mattress and began to scoot, her body turning as she did.

Once on her side, she slid back until her back was to his chest, her fingers first straightening out her shirt before she bent her arm backwards, hand curling around his wrist. Pulling his arm forward, she hooked it around her slender middle and adjusted her body until she was adjusted just the way she liked. With her eyes closed, head tucked against her own pillow, arm curled beneath it, she smiled. “It’s not so bad now, is it?”


[BLAIZE]
It should have felt foreign but instead it felt natural. Aleksandra's body fit against his like two adjacent pieces of a puzzle, like human bodies were designed and had evolved for this very reason. So that two bodies could easily curl against each other in the cold of night (or day), providing warmth, comfort, and security. He had not missed the heavy sigh, anxiety-riddled. It was both satisfying to him, and strange, that he should make one woman so nervous.

Whatever fear she'd felt, she'd overcome. And now here she was, Blaize's arm (and the blanket along with it) wrapped tightly around her torso. The hand that was curled beneath his pillow slid easily between the cool fabric of pillow and mattress to find hers, tangling their fingers, giving her permission to move that arm where she willed it, too. His legs shifted, his hips, his body manoeuvring to encompass hers; one leg hooked between hers, his breath against the back of her neck -- only after he'd leaned forward to press a 'goodnight' kiss to the tender skin just below the lobe of her ear.

This, he realised, was the meaning of affection. This was what he had been missing out on all his life. Months ago, when he'd been so consumed with ways a vampire might kill himself, this could have been what cured him. This was what he had needed. He'd never put much faith in the notion that humans needed the comfort of physical touch. But he was beginning to realise there might have been truth in their proclamations.

"Not too bad at all," he said. The only thing he said in response, despite the swirling, unfamiliar emotion within.


[ALEKSANDRA]
His body fit perfectly with hers – and for some reason, that seemed to send another flare of panic through her chest. No man had ever molded against her in such a way that she felt complete. It was the press of his lips against the soft spot just below her ear that washed away that choking nervousness, however, and she curled her fingers with his. Her fingers twisted with his, arm bending slightly – but not uncomfortably – to better accommodate them both. “I’m glad you think so,” she smiled sleepily.

There was a moment of hesitation, a quiet sound of contentment, and then she was turning her head, lips finding the edge of his jaw. It was a quick brush of a kiss, and then she was turning back over. The entire time, her eyes had never opened, the exhaustion of her trip – the warning hum of the rising sun – weighing heavily on her. The protective heat of his embrace wasn’t helping much, either. Scooting back just another inch, she ensured that there wasn’t a single breadth of space that was left between them.

It was only then, when she could no longer fight the sleep, that she finally succumbed.