Author's note - Okay, when I was editing this all I could think is that this is an angsty, non-sex, sex scene. I hope that makes sense and that you don't mind… This was supposed to be a light scene, but Stark is really struggling and took it in another direction.
Everything House of Night belongs to the Casts.
I woke up to the wonderful feeling of Stark's rough, calloused fingers all along my body. I tried to keep my breathing steady so he would think I was still asleep and continue doing what he was doing. I thought he might stop if he realized he'd wakened me, and I wanted to keep enjoying the delicious sensation of his fingers along my skin.
His hands made a slow circuit over my body, and as the sleep cleared from my mind, I realized that he was tracing my tattoos. His fingers would brush down my neck, caress my shoulders, then glide down my spine. His hand would flow across the tattoos on my waist, lift to trace the marks on my forehead, then practically float over my skin as his fingers descended down the designs on the sides of my face.
I lost track of how many times his hands made that journey, traversing my body in long, slow strokes. His touch was not intentionally erotic, but still left tingling, burning trails along my skin with every pass of his fingers. I tried to lie still, but after countless passes of his fingers I was moaning, squirming, and writhing against him, plans of feigning sleep completely forgotten.
He leaned down and captured my mouth in a searing kiss. "Sorry," he murmured, not sounding sorry at all. He sounded pretty smug, actually. I didn't mind a bit.
"I'm not," I returned, more than a little breathless.
I looked up, expecting to see his cocky grin. Expecting… I don't know, round three? My body was practically humming with his touch, and the hope that he might… want me…. again made my insides spasm orgasmically with just the anticipation alone.
Instead of the promise of more lovemaking, the face that met mine couldn't have shocked me more.
Stark's expressions shifted rapidly, an agonizing mixture of hope and pain. He was clearly waging some kind of horrible internal battle. My heart ached for him, but my body lagged far behind. I was still electrified by his touch, nearly trembling with want for him. I literally shook in a mixture of arousal and confusion, my body totally not keeping up with change in the scenery. I felt completely cut loose and adrift and hurt – both for him and for myself - at his shockingly abrupt change in intention and mood.
I searched his face for some clue. His brow was deeply furrowed with the intensity of whatever was going on in his mind, so much so that I felt my stomach clench a little in fear instead of pleasure. Hoping to soften his look just a little, I reached up, hesitantly, to smooth my fingers down his forehead, just as he had done to me a few hours before. A ghost of a smile touched his face. "Um…thanks?" he said quietly. The barest hint of a chuckle was carried along with his words, but disappeared as he seemed to make a decision and formed some sort of resolve.
"Lay back," he said softly. His voice was husky, dark, with a hint of menace and command. I started to feel seriously frightened. Stark had never made me feel like this.
"Please," he added almost immediately, sounding a little more normal, but still not completely losing the edge that made my breath catch in my throat.
My heart was racing as I debated my options. I was surprised to find that I didn't seriously consider running, or calling the elements to protect me. I also didn't dwell very long on the idea of kicking him out. My overwhelming choice was to comply. As much as he was scaring me in this instant, this was still Stark, and I trusted him. I trusted him with my life.
Trying to explain that to my freaked out body was a total other matter.
Heart still beating wildly and thumping in my chest, breathing fast and shallow, muscles tense, I brought my eyes to meet his as I slowly raised myself off his chest. The intensity radiated off him, but his eyes surprised me – they were full of pain but seemed to be begging me for something.
I trusted him. I was still freaked the hell out, though.
My muscles were still stiff with more than a little fear as I lifted myself off of him completely, then slowly lowered myself back on to the narrow bed next to him. He scooted over a little to make room. I reflected again, with something approaching humor, that dorm room mattresses are seriously not made for two people. At any other time the random thought hit me next would have made me giggle – hmmm, think they're trying to tell us something? – but in the moment just left my insides more confused. I wanted to laugh, but also wanted to run, and instead did neither, keeping an iron grip on my fragile emotions while complying with Stark's request.
He reclined next to me, propped up on his elbow as he gazed down at me. I laid there stiffly, my body still almost frozen with confusion and fear that I couldn't shake. He reached over with his free hand and pulled the sheet up over my breasts and smoothed it gently around me. His face was a hard mask at this point and his eyes refused to meet mine.
Then he did something that left me reeling once again: he reached over and touched the center of my scar with one tentative finger, then leaned over and pressed his lips to it. I really wasn't expecting that. Every time I was with him, intimately or casually, I completely forgot about thick, red, ugly, twisted scar tissue that disfigured my upper body; the hideous thing that ran from shoulder to shoulder just below my collarbone. (My Goddess tattoos lay like a beautiful filigree over it, but to me, the horrible scar just could not be disguised.) Even when I was naked before him, thoughts of that awful, repulsive rope of tissue disappeared like they were from another life. Around him I felt whole and beautiful. That he was deliberately noticing that horrible scar now made me freeze in a different way. One positive – I couldn't help noticing with some irony - all my fear had burned away, gone in an instant like flash paper.
His whole body shook as he placed another kiss next to the first. Slowly, agonizingly, he added more soft, wet kisses, one beside the other, working his way from the center of the scar at my sternum all the way to my shoulder where the raven-mocker's claw had first ripped my flesh. Once he reached the edge he returned to the center then worked his way to the other shoulder, his lips caressing every millimeter of the ragged scar. His breathing hitched, and as wetness touched my collarbone I realized he was crying. My tears – which were a mixture of self-consciousness and disgust for the grisly reminder of my near-death, embarrassment that the stupid scar bothered me so much, crushing heartache as I wished I could take away Stark's suffering, and confusion so thick I was nearly shaking with physical pain – tears that had been threatening to fall anyway - quickly spilled over to join his.
I tangled both hands into his hair and ran my fingers through the strands in a futile attempt to comfort him. After what seemed like forever he finally seemed to relax, at least a little. He raised himself back up on his elbow, then leaned over quickly to kiss my forehead. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and hugged me gently, then pulled me over on my side, facing him. He lowered himself to the bed with his face next to mine, our bodies curved towards each other but not touching.
He reached over and cupped my cheek in his hand. His deep, expressive brown eyes met mine. His face was calm, now, and his eyes were kind with a tinge of regret. "I am sooo sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to scare you, or hurt you."
I couldn't find my voice.
"I was thinking… a lot of things."
"Like what?" I finally managed.
He reached over and brushed away the last trails of my drying tears, then let one finger drop from my cheeks to my chest and caressed my scar. It wasn't so hard now. Even though he was showing me he noticed it, he didn't act like it was ugly. His voice stayed low, but gentle. "One thing I was thinking was that when you got this, I wasn't there. I was only dreaming of loving you back then. Actually, when you got this I had probably given up on my dreams. I can't believe I almost lost you before I even got a chance to love you. But thanks to Erik and Heath, you're alive, and you're here with me now."
"Don't forget Darius," I added. That massive Son of Erebus had devoted himself to our little group as surely as Erik and Heath had, and his healer training was most of the reason I survived.
"Oh? So would you like to sleep with him, too?" He asked innocently. I couldn't quite believe my ears. His tone wasn't challenging or mean – it was mischievous. The torment of just seconds ago was gone. I met his eyes and they were absolutely dancing with some secret joke. The corners of his mouth twitched as he tried to hide his smile. He caught me so off guard that laughter bubbled in my chest and spilled over until I was gasping out loud.
This boy was going to kill me with his mood swings!
"Nah," I said, the bubbling laughter bordering on hysteria, "I don't see how I'd find the time. I've still got school, you know."
Stark laughed out loud then, too. He reached out and hugged me briefly, but released me just as quickly. He grabbed my hand and held it between our bodies, palm up. He smiled at me, a genuine smile, and brushed his fingers over Nyx's mark on my palm.
"This isn't easy for me," he said, still stroking my palm, smiling softly. "I don't want to share you. But your life is in the balance in so many different ways. I know I'm not enough."
"You love me enough," I stated. Whether that was "enough" for what he meant I wasn't sure. But I knew in my heart that if we were human, his love would be enough.
"I do," he stated, still smiling. "But now I want you to tell me about Erik. You love him, too, and that's important. We'll figure this out."
Ending note - I'm really not advocating dating multiple partners. The Casts just set up these three lovely pairings for Zoey, and none of them are a bad choice. So I've tried to take the extra step of adding sex to the mix and exploring why it's important that Zoey stay connected to all three men. Her future vamp High Priestess status definitely plays a huge role, as does Kalona's eventual return.
This scene got much longer than I expected. Less angst coming up, Stark really is trying to help.
