Warning: There is a hint of lemon/lime in this. But we all secretly like a little bit of EClare lovin', don't we? I do! I DO!
Disclaimer: I do NOT own Degrassi. If I did, EClare would've had 20+ little Eli's by now. Okay, maybe not, but you get the point.
You all know the drill, support the official release. X)
"I see it in your eyes. I feel it in your touch, and baby more, I love you."
It would've been a lot easier for Eli Goldsworthy to have said no, as he'd been given the opportunity to run away from the beginning. However, like a moth to the flame he was drawn to her, rendered partially impaired by the cerulean orbs she had for eyes.
Boy was he regretting that decision.
She made him weak in the knees, vowing for undying affections, and failure had never once felt so good in his 17 years of life. Dammit, he mentally cursed. The things his little vixen, Clare Edwards, did to him were ungodly. It wasn't fair - and whoever said life wasn't fair, clearly never teased. Oh, but he loved it when she teased.
"Eli," she moaned into his ear. The thought of flipping her over and taking her as his right there, in the back of Morty, was more than tempting, though it wasn't the first time he had this thought.
The little hairs on his neck rose as his pants tightened, twitching slightly, and he couldn't decide if it was pleasure or sheer mockery. Eli let out a guttural moan trying his hardest and failing miserably at not getting too excited. Clare wasn't that kind of girl, and as much as it "hurt" him sometimes, he would do nothing but respect her wishes. However the agony was killing him, and his balls had to have been bluer than Jack Dawson's lips whilst drowning.
Either Clare Edwards had a lot more self-control than he did, or he just sucked at turning her on – and he knew it was not the latter. He smirked at the thought.
Yes, it must've been that the gods were merely laughing at him, knowing the countless possibilities of what could occur between the two…especially given the perfect situation they'd come to be in.
"Eli" She breathed again, trailing ghostly kisses down his neck. He quivered slightly as his breathing became jagged and raspy. It only hurt so good as the sensation shivered heavenly down his spine.
He swallowed, HARD, contemplating his next move.
He knew that what had started as mindless chatter, was now lingering on dangerous territory. He was close to her, both lying in the back of the car, she was on top and he held her close never once fathoming the thought of letting go. Clare Edwards would be the death of Elijah Goldsworthy, and he just so happened to like it that way.
Though nothing was coming to his mind, and he realized that formulating a plan to get out of his situation was impossible at this point. The much needed blood for his brain was traveling rapidly toward his groin. He tried to swallow again, but his mouth was suddenly drier than the Sahara. Only she could ever do this to him.
Impure, vulgar, tainted, crude – those were the types of words she might use to flawlessly describe the whirlwind of images that came to his mind. He was being a bad, BAD, boy, stomach filled with flurries of butterflies.
And finally, the only thing he could formulate,
"Clare," His dry mouth heaved. He watched helplessly as her eyes darted to him, her kissable lips slightly parted, anticipating him.
When blue met green, any hope of resistance was lost from him.
His lips collided onto hers with brute force, tongue tackling every last crevice and curvature of her mouth. He was spiraling out of control, floating helplessly in the bright azure pool of the sky, her eyes. Eli had never been so dangerously far off of the coast in love, and he was reveling in every second of it. If there was a god in the world, he knew he existed; the angel in his arms was definite proof of that.
His arms snaked its way around her waist and he eagerly grinded her hips against his growing need. His reason was losing a hard fought battle against the primitive instinct that roared him to life. He wasn't trying to tempt her, but regardless, he did it anyway. His point was made, no pun intended.
She moaned again, this time much louder than the first, and he only growled in response. Their tongues continued to dance in sync like never before, and resolve was slipping fast as her hands roamed freely through his dark locks of hair. He was losing it all faster than he could believe.
His hands were feral, fervently roaming every place he could touch. They needed to know every inch of her body, every soft curve and spot that made her go wild.
But with every touch, the more Eli hurt.
It was a slow reminder of all the things he couldn't have, her.
Though, Eli did not falter, as uncertainty was out of the question. He never hesitated while kissing Clare, why should he? She was his comfort. She was his passion. She was his conscience. She was his everything.
She was his…
He loved her, truly, from the top and bottom of his heart.
And as they broke away, both gasping for air, he faintly whispered those three little words…
"I love you."
Eli Goldsworthy would have all of her some day. ALL of her, dammit.
Author's Notes:
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PS: The quote at the top comes from the song "I Love You (Prelude to Tragedy)" by HIM.
The title of this fic comes from the song "In Venere Veritas" by HIM .
Update: 6/15/11 – Did a good bit of editing here and there.