you got the lights on in the afternoon
and the nights are drawn out long
and you're kissing to cut through the gloom
with a cough drop colored tongue
and you were sitting in the corner with the coats all piled high
and I thought you might be mine
in a small world on an exceptionally rainy Tuesday night
in the right place and time
-Knee Socks, Arctic Monkeys
melt
chapter two
warning: sexy stuff
He didn't do it often. It always gave him an uneasy feeling. But he got out of the shower now and had the urge, there was no fan so the steam fogged up the mirrors and he had to rub it away. It suited him fine usually— no reason to look at himself any more than he had to.
And see that white hair that he sometimes caught Kat staring at.
Today, he wiped the condensation away with his fist, repeatedly because it just kept fogging back up. He saw his bright eyes, his frown and pinched brows. His first thought was that he needed a haircut. Kat cut her own hair just fine, maybe she could take a quick razor to the back and sides, and trim the top for him. Maybe just shave the whole fucking lot off.
Dye hadn't worked. It had drooled off his hair and just stained his skin. He'd been so angry he had kicked her out of the bathroom and had stood under the shower for half an hour, not even caring when the water turned freezing, ignoring her soft words through the door.
And that feeling came out of him sometimes. When he was fighting and his blood was simmering. Phasing in and out of just wanting to kill something, like he normally did. To wanting to tear something apart. Throbbing headaches and that ear-splitting noise when he didn't.
And it wasn't always the monsters he was hunting. The people that sometimes got in the way, crowds and screaming women and their misplaced kids that brought it on, crying and eyes like saucers, and the bloodlust couldn't distinguish between enemy and innocent bystander. Those days he didn't come home until the feeling disappeared. No reason to bring the monster home and scare Kat. Or worse.
He heard the sound of her vials clinking together as she rummaged through her clutter and glanced at the door. He thought of the intense look on her face as she worked, sucking in her top lip or touching it with her tongue.
She was doing well. Her bullet wound and downgraded into an itchy scar, something that would be with her forever but it was something she rarely hid around home now. She stuck to the exercises and had recovered better than he hoped. He was happy enough with the improvement that he let her cajole him into letting her come with him on a hunt, with the conditions that she stay hidden and surrounded by barriers. Most of the time she didn't even bother with the fight, when people got involved and their curiosity (or stupidity) got the better of them, she set up perimeters and pushed them back for him. But she often found the high rooftops, and those Molotov's of hers were pretty handy. She even started going around the city, stamping flyers to walls and posts and window shops, talking to people about the "war" and the "revolution". Shit that Vergil would have said. But when Kat said it— the flurry of her mouth and the sincere way she approached people. Vergil had rubbed off a bit of that charisma, but her charm was all her own, so was the glow in her cheeks when people took her seriously. He always kept her company on those walks, arms folded and waiting off to the side, looking like the general mean bodyguard. With any luck she'd have enough people for one of her classes soon.
It was going as well as they could hope, without any intel whatsoever on what was happening amongst the top dog demons. Sleep didn't come easy when he thought about it. Anything that Mundus had touched was slowly beginning to crumble— facilities, banking, and corporate businesses turning to mush. Falling apart— or being hunted down by his truly. The Order contributed on that side of things and he grudgingly appreciated it. Like he understood big business anyway.
'Mundus ruled absolute, with him gone…'
'He must have had enemies, or opposition.'
'He did. He would have hunted them all down and crushed them.' She looked apologetic for her words, and he realized why moments later.
Opposition. Like my parents.
'Phineas warned me when I was at the tower. He said when Mundus is gone, somebody would try and take his place. And those fuckers are becoming way too quiet. Something's happening.'
'Well, you've killed hundreds, and all we can do is prepare people. We're doing all we can.'
All they could do. It just never felt enough, like it wasn't making a dent.
He thought about his father in purgatory, what was happening to him now that the King was dead, if demons knew only how to inflict suffering, regardless of their ranks.
He thought about Vergil.
He looked in the mirror, and he thought about what had been passed down from father to son. He turned away when he couldn't stomach it anymore.
His pocket kept humming and vibrating on his ribs. Kat had demanded he keep it on his person at all time. Now that they were partners. Or whatever the fuck they were. He hated the goddamned thing but she used all her common sense and rolodex of puppy dog faces she had to convince him.
He put it on vibrate and it stayed that way. Cheap fucking default ringtones.
'Yep?' He answered the phone abruptly. He wasn't in a good mood, and was halfway through a hunt. Hadn't had much sugar in his cereal or something and now that he already had a scent he was in beast-mode. He rounded the corner of another dank alleyway, Rebellion in his off-hand. He needed practice with it anyway.
'Are you okay?'
There they were. Mischievous Bathos bastards. He held the phone near his throat and hollered at them. They turned their greasy, chattering faces towards him. 'You need something?'
'Are you nearly finished out there?'
Ophion went flying out and embedded itself into one snarling face. He readied Rebellion.
'I would be, if I didn't have to answer this stupid piece of shit every—'
'Don't be such an idiot.'
He scoffed, slicing through the little pipsqueak like it was butter. He sidestepped a projectile casually and vaulted into the air. 'If we're going to talk about who the idiot is here, why don't we— hng— talk about who heated up a steel bowl full of pudding in the microwave—'
'Okay, why don't we talk about who it was that got stupidly drunk and forgot the barrier password and sat outside using every combination of curse words you knew until somebody complained to the—'
'Okay, why don't we—'
'You… even… started swearing in German? I didn't even know you spoke Ger—'
'There a point to this?'
'Yes, there was.'
'Is it gone now?'
Silence embraced the alleyway as the squealing ended abruptly and the stench of their rotting bodies slowly faded with them. He sheathed Rebellion, feeling it fade from his back.
'I want some more lessons.'
He frowned at nothing in particular. If she was here, he would have frowned at her. 'Really?' he deadpanned.
'It's been a week.'
'A week, huh?'
'Eight whole days, actually.'
'You can count, good for you.'
'C'mon.'
Dante rolled his eyes.
'I'll be there in an hour. Just gotta clean up.' And bash a couple more heads.
He entered the clearing, more like a crater amongst the toppled buildings and upturned cars. It would have been a courtyard originally, part of some old structure that the city, like a leech, had once built around and through, all cobblestone and pretty gardens, but it was a mess now. The fountain was broken in half, water all dried up. A few easy leaps through the air and he found this secluded place easily enough. Kat had found a few crevices to squeeze her way through, a makeshift tunnel since it wouldn't be so easy for her to make it over the rubble.
She was in jeans, clingy material that yielded to accommodate the stretches she was doing. He put a little more effort into his footsteps so that they echoed and wouldn't surprise her. He had a high pain tolerance and humans never really did hit hard, but he learnt quick enough that she was jumpy and went to immediate fight instead of flight response (surprising, actually) when she was startled. He'd figured that out once, and he didn't intend to find out again. Still couldn't sit properly.
Closer now and with a single glance over her shoulder to let him know she was aware of his presence, and she bent to touch her toes. Not something he was going to complain about, ever. He liked seeing her legs in those denim shorts, but jeans did only good things to her figure.
'Hey.'
She smiled shyly, it was upside down and her hair was flopping into her face as she stared up at him. He sat down on the edge of the fountain, bracing himself against his knees and watched her. She finally straightened and brushed her hands against her sweater.
'Don't look so glum. I'm not a bad student.'
His brow rose at her, and then he tried to even out his features.
'Am I?' Her brow creased worriedly.
Dante smirked at her. 'You punch like a girl.'
'I am a girl.' she huffed.
'Really?'
Kat took a meaningful step forward. He laughed, raising his hands in defense.
She balled her fists up and found a stance. It was a little off, and so with much effort on his part he stood to correct it.
It had been his idea at first— he liked the thought of her being able to defend herself. Under no circumstances was he a good teacher or a refined fighter. With his strength and abilities, it allowed him to charge in a little recklessly. But he knew the tricks, he had been in enough scraps to know how to use his fists. What he taught her was a little bit dirty, and it was mainly defense. And like it would do much with a demon lunging at your face, but he didn't teach her because of that— he didn't plan on her having to be in that situation. And it made her confident. Made her stronger. To go out by herself, because she was always on edge, so shy it bordered on scared. And not just of demons.
She leapt at the whole idea and stole it as her own. Now she was constantly bothering him about lessons. And he was all for them, really. He taught her about the sensitive points on a human body, because all he pictured was some fucking creep and he wanted to make sure she knew where her knee went. But then she started talking about demons and their tactics. About using guns and even fucking swordplay. Too many questions for somebody susceptible to broken bones and, you know, death.
He put his hands on her folded fists, engulfing them, prying them open.
'Stop folding your thumbs in.'
She went stiff, and then adjusted her fingers. She had a bad habit of that at first, but he'd drilled it into her head so often that she hadn't slipped up in a long time.
'I can't help it.' she muttered, blinking like she had been in a daze.
'If you don't want broken thumbs, you can.'
He let go of her hands, resting on them a little longer than necessary. He never negated what was and wasn't necessary when it came to her. It wasn't necessary that he make her hot and bothered every chance that he got, and press her up against a wall, or make her hot and bothered for another reason because she looked attractive as hell when she was all riled up.
He didn't really need to put his hands on her hips, adjust her position again, slide his hands over her pockets and waistband. But he did it anyway.
He rattled off a few drills and stepped back, holding out his palms so that she could use him as a punching bag, but to his surprise she was sloppy. Usually she was too tense, something that would leave her with pulled muscles and cramping if she wasn't careful.
'Kat, what the fuck was that?' he asked, as she lamely jabbed at him.
'Sorry.' she mumbled.
'You're the one that wanted to do this.' She practically begged him every chance she could. 'Look, bring your arms in a bit more, just—'
'Hey, Dante…'
She flat out interrupted him without batting an eyelash, something she lectured him on— his impatience and bad manners. She was biting her lip, which meant she was bordering an uncomfortable conversation. One that embarrassed her. Something personal that had nothing to do with the practice she had sweet-talked him into.
'What?'
Kat stuttered for an inordinate amount of time as he stared at her expectantly, until eventually she boiled over, lost her cool, and shook her head. 'Nothing. Forget it.'
Fat chance, girl.
He smirked and put his hands down, instead folding his arms across his chest. 'Your face is all red.'
It went an even more furious red, and her posture turned timid. She forgot about the drill.
'Well, it's warm out.' There was a fresh breeze rolling in on them. He nearly laughed at her. She growled. What a glorious sound.
'Alright, finish your drills.'
She nodded a little weakly, and then it struck him that something could actually be wrong with her. He did a once over— nothing wrong, she was at the top of her game in those pants. She was flexing her fingers and was decidedly anxious.
Dante softened a bit. 'You okay?'
'I'm fine.'
So, he was new to this whole relationship thing. That was what they were in now— she'd clarified that about the third time they'd kissed and she'd taken to holding his hand when they went out for lunch. He'd had to outright ask, because like any girl had tried to fucking hold his hand before, without also trying to stick one down his pants. Like he had ever taken a girl out for breakfast. She had thought it was funny. He still hadn't gotten used to the clammy, sweaty… nice feeling of her small hand in his, or the way his stomach flipped. And he understood that being in a relationship meant talking and dealing with feelings. Kat wasn't a sap (as far as he knew, but he hadn't seen her ball her eyes out to the sappy romance novels she hid under her pillow). Something was bothering her now, and so he knew his role in it.
He stepped closer and pressed a hand to the back of her neck, ignoring the way she tensed. He kissed her. As natural as it could be, not even long enough to warrant closing his eyes, just a soft pucker and her dazed expression.
'Remember to untuck your thumbs.'
''Kay.' she whispered, relaxing. He stroked the back of her neck for a moment, reminiscent of a short massage, and smirked at her.
Yeah, he had this shit covered.
She'd worked up a sweat, and now sat hunched over a milkshake that was nearly twice the length of her head. He'd never had a sweet tooth, the very sight of the sickly strawberry syrup and marshmallows gave him a headache. But she always did this, underestimated the size of a meal and overestimated her stomach and always felt so bad leaving leftovers that she bullied him into finishing it for her.
She'd gotten him a second straw just in case, but he hadn't touched it.
'What the fuck is that.'
'Triple strawberry swirl thickshake with extra marshmallows.' She licked her lip. 'I think there is fudge at the bottom. Want some?'
He shook his head. 'No. Go nuts.'
She slurped away, while he sipped at his root beer. No actual beer here at this… café. The things he did for… fuck. Whatever.
Kat was actually getting through the thing, had hardly taken a breath and he was worried about her passing out and similarly giving herself a heart attack, when she stopped, sat back, and gazed at him squarely.
'Dante.'
'Kat.' He mimicked her serious tone.
'I… had something to ask you.' The image of her floundering in the clearing came back to his mind.
'I'm all ears.' he said, as his shoulders eased and his arms fell by his sides— an inviting stance if anything, to help her stop stammering and just get out whatever the hell it was she was trying to say.
'Um, so, are you busy tonight?'
'Uh,' he shrugged, caught off guard by the casual question. 'Not really.'
'That's good.'
He nodded slowly. 'Why?'
'Oh. I was going to suggest that we go out. Tonight.' More a statement then a question, but like he was going to point that out. His mouth opened and closed. Wasn't expecting that.
'Sure. For… pizza?' he asked, unsurely.
'No. Well, yes, but I mean…'
It clicked. 'You mean out, out?' he mocked her, to hide his surprise and his delight.
She glared at him, terribly embarrassed now. 'Well I did get this new book today that I could easily stay up all night reading, if you'd rather be a jerk—'
He could have kissed her. He really, really wanted to. But that would have been fucking lame right then and there after she so cutely asked him out on a date. So he just reached over the booth and shucked the hair back behind her ear, gentle. Watching her swallow slowly and then taking the opportunity to muss her bun up. She edged away from the patronizing rumpling but looked subdued by the smile he was giving her.
'So?' she murmured.
'You think I would choose being a jerk over going out with you?'
She shrugged. 'You're a jerk regardless.' He loved her quiet mocking, like a hidden mean-streak she reserved only for him.
'I should probably head out for a few more hours,' he told her, swallowing the last of his drink and shuffling out of the cubicle. Kat nodded, looking unsure without his direct answer.
He stood by her side, she looked up at him sidelong, and he noticed the cream on her bottom lip.
He pegged her as a girl adverse to such an open display of affection. Especially when it involved a whole lot of tongue. He wiped it away with his thumb, dragging across her lip, the corner of her open mouth.
'I'll pick you up later.' he promised.
Kat nodded.
Dante stuck his thumb in his mouth to lick it off as he walked out, and missed the big smile on her face.
He was picking through his clothes while she finished up in the bathroom. He yanked off his dirty wife beater and grabbed at his unorganized drawer. He dragged out a black top, long sleeves, clingy. Already suffering from a bit of wear and tear. He tucked it into his pants, and ran a hand through his short white hair and turned to her as she stepped out of the bathroom.
Exposed stomach. Skirt and tights and boots. Looking bashful but only a little bit self-conscious. She tugged at the midriff so that it hid her bellybutton, but eventually gave up when it kept bouncing up. He was glad when she finally did, so he got an unobstructed view of the slender arch of her, the white skin. It was accentuated by her tats and the whole image just made him want to bite his fist.
'Different. You look different.' She cleared her throat and spoke, breaking the silence.
'Look who's talking. I forgot you had a stomach.'
She crossed her arms over her belly instinctively. 'I can't see you flex in that shirt. Don't wear it too long, people might forget how manly you are.'
He gave her a look that was pure simper, teeth showing.
'Are we going or what?'
He shrugged, stepping towards her. 'It's still early.'
'Okay, then—' But she stopped, because he was inches away from bumping his boots against her own. She had to crane her neck.
He towered over her, and she tried not to think about how much she liked that. He got all serious— as serious as Dante could get— and exuded confidence. She thought he was going to kiss her, and readied herself for it, promised herself she wasn't going to push him away quite as quickly as all the other times. Maybe let him touch her, her stomach, something he veered to do before she shut him down. Maybe she'd worn the shirt for that exact reason. Maybe she'd slip her tongue into his mouth and surprise him.
His head dipped and her eyes closed.
'Why don't we go grab some pizza?'
Her eyes snapped open and she bit her tongue as he laughed and started for the door.
Smug bastard.
He handed her a light beer, it was fruitier because of bananas or something ridiculous like that, something she could drink slowly and not get too much of an initial buzz on. She looked so on edge, eyes following everything and everyone. It was such a hot, heavy place and she felt like she had to soak it all in. So many bodies. And it wasn't even that busy, he was just so used to this scene that it was hard to try and place himself in her boots. He hadn't pictured her as that much of a shut in— she was young and even though she was a bit of a brainiac she didn't seem that straight edge. Maybe he hadn't been paying enough attention. Maybe she had just gotten so comfortable in his presence that he didn't notice her acting this way anymore.
'You really don't get out much, do you?'
'A bullet in the shoulder might do that,' she said offhandedly.
He wasn't going to let her blow him off that easily. He rested his elbow against the table, leaned towards her. 'I meant before… all this shit.'
She kept kicking him accidentally, swinging her legs back and forth. Only soft nudges that made him smile and made her apologize quietly over and over. So tight strung, jumping when people walked by. He hadn't brought her out to a club to make her more nervous about the world. He thought that the lessons would have helped, that maybe Kat could sit there and tell herself that she knew how to defend herself, but it didn't seem to be working right now.
'There aren't any demons here,' he promised, beneath the music. He had to lean in close.
'I know. But it's not always demons you should look out for.'
He nodded slowly. 'You're safe with me.'
She gave him a small smile, shrugging helplessly. 'I just can't help it. I'm slow to trust people.'
'Yeah, I know.' he said dryly.
Kat still wasn't convinced that doing this was a good idea, but she'd had a momentary spike of confidence, or adrenaline. And she had this nagging feeling that she really, really wanted to take Dante up on the offer she had previously turned down. It had taken every ounce of confidence to actually go through with it. Maybe Dante was right— she didn't sense any demons either. And maybe he was right about her being safe with him, as well. She trusted him. A lot.
'We can go, if you want.' he said seriously, but she knew him better than that. He really didn't want her to.
She considered his words for a good while. 'It's okay.'
'I have beer at home.'
Home. It was home. He hoped she didn't see the "oh shit" flash in his eyes.
She shook her head. 'No turning back now.'
He laughed. 'Sounds like you're going into fucking battle, Kat.'
She felt her face get all flushed, and thanked the neon lights above. 'I'm sorry. Really, I'm having fun. I just…' She started toying with the bottle label. 'I used to go out a bit. I guess I just got caught up in work. Forgot there was another world outside of hunting demons.'
'Easy to do.'
'I guess being in that line of work, you just don't feel…' human. She bit her lip, so hard it almost bled. She regretted her words so much that she nearly started apologizing, except he didn't look offended at all. He was nearly laughing at her again. At least he got some amusement out of making herself look like an idiot.
She started drinking a lot quicker after that.
'Can I ask you something?'
'Shoot.'
'Are you even legally allowed to be in here?'
She rolled her eyes. 'It was obviously the charms you worked on the guard.'
'Naw, I'm serious. Five months and I still don't know how old you are. What the fuck, huh?'
'It's because of how desperately you want to know.'
'Rude.'
'Well, there are a lot of things I don't know about you.' she shot back.
He lifted his arms in surrender. 'Okay. I'm an open book. I'll tell you anything you want to know.'
'I feel so lucky.'
'You should.' he said, seriously. 'You think you're slow to trust people?'
'Don't even get me started. You threatened to shoot me when we met.' Kat said dryly.
'And aren't I glad I didn't.' He smoothed the rough pad of his thumb across her cheek. There was a small dimple in his, where his half-smile curled at his lip. He inched around the small table, closer to where she sat. He was standing, and the tall stool made them a close match in height for once.
'I'm nineteen,' she whispered, as his face got closer.
He looked pleased, not only because he had finally won this stupid game. 'I smuggled you in.'
'You're a full-blown felon.' She laughed. Soft, barely audible, but it touched his ears and he couldn't help but keep touching her face, cradling her jaw. She didn't notice it at all, the way she drew inadvertent attention just by simply being Kat, with those killer legs and those sweet collarbones and damn near sweet everything else. And when he actually got her to smile… he had the urge to just sling an arm around her but that felt like displaying a dominance that he wasn't entitled to. It wasn't an urge he was used to feeling about anything other than the last slice of pizza. Certainly not about a girl in some club.
Fuck if he wasn't getting soft over her.
His free fingers drummed on the lattice surface, suddenly feeling impatient. 'Wanna dance?'
She exhaled heavily, unaware she even had that breath held up in her lungs.
'I'm… not nearly drunk enough for that.'
'Okay, well how about I go buy another round while you think of more excuses.' He winked good-naturedly and downed the rest of his drink. Much harder liquor than hers. He left for the bar and she felt very vulnerable and exposed, missed the warmth of his breath by her ear. But he kept swinging back looks at her, smiling, assuring her.
She finished her beer before he returned with more.
'Did you spike my drink?'
He looked half amused, half insulted. 'No. You're just a lightweight.'
'I can barely walk, why would you get me to the point when I can barely walk, Dante?'
Dante snorted, rounded on her suddenly, looking a little more than insulted now. 'You had threebeers and a sip of bourbon, babe.'
She smiled bashfully. 'I probably shouldn't dance.'
'Ah, no.' He held her hand tighter. 'I've been waiting patiently—'
'Right, patiently.'
'—for twenty minutes for you to stop stalling. I was promised a dance.'
'I did no such thing,' she mumbled.
'Well, that's just too bad.'
His arm found the curve of her waist and she felt like melting, the banter on the tip of her tongue would have turned to flustered babble if she didn't shut her mouth promptly. Her mind was like a ball of fuzz, dampened down by a stream of alcohol. It felt dreamy, almost pleasant. And that shirt he was wearing hugged his arms and his chest. The wonderful curves of his biceps. She saw the outline of his pendant beneath the black material and the muscles of his neck as he searched over the heads of people around them for a spot on the dance floor and pulled her along.
He found a place towards the back so that they weren't completely surrounded and squashed. Beads of sweat were already forming across her collarbone and he had the urge to just bend down and suck at the thin sheen. He put both his hands across her stomach, sliding them around until he had a full grip on her hips. He pulled her flush against him.
In the back of her mind something told her that she was normally way more alert over how cramped she felt, and crowds, how close Dante was. The music was even louder now, if that was possible, drowning everything out, even his heartbeat, until his chest grazed hers and she felt it thumping steadily, and in comparison hers was like a little humming bird. But at the forefront, she just remembered all the women that had meandered up to him— some that knew him, some that were just curious about the broody, handsome boy at the bar. He was surprisingly good at making them back off. She didn't hear what he said, but they generally looked put out.
Her satisfaction in this made her feel like an idiot. Because she didn't really care, or at least she pretended she didn't.
And now he pressed against her and he let every compulsion take over that told him to wrap his arms around her and do that neat little trick with his pelvis against hers, again and again…
By now she'd be blushing and pushing away and he'd be looking contrite— or pretending to. Except that they were just… dancing. Dancing was different from being pushed up against a motel wall and kissed for all she was worth, getting a leg hitched at his waist for a good fondling. Yes, just dancing. Erotically. Forgetting that other people were still in the room with them.
Dante was all hard muscle and every wicked trick he knew. He was talking to her— it was mostly just gentle reminders that everything was okay. That it was just her, him, and that she looked so fucking hot right now. Her stomach flipped.
He kissed her beneath her ear. A hand rolled up the outline of her body, not missing a single tender spot, to cradle the back of her head. She was getting the hang of it now, shuffling her feet at the right time and she started feeling that hot pressure a bit too much. She just closed her eyes and made soft noises as his teeth nipped her skin, and then eased the spot over with his tongue. A rotation of this that emphasized each grind his hips made.
Her eyes fluttered open briefly. What she saw ruined everything.
She met the eyes of a girl on the dance floor— and that wouldn't have been a problem. Everybody looked about as lost in the moment as she felt. Except she swore those eyes oozed, that they were gaping black holes. That her name curled along its tongue.
She stopped dancing altogether, made a few inches of distance between them so she could take a breath but at the same time fisting his shirt so hard, so that he couldn't get too far away.
'Kat?'
'We… can we get out of here now. Let's get out of here.'
Normally he would have liked the sound of that, but he caught the panic in her voice.
'What's wrong?'
'I swear I saw…'
Looking back, that woman was gone, lost in the swarm of writhing bodies. Brief relief— maybe she had been seeing things—
And then there was more littered between the dancing people, through gaps in the shadows, staring, gaping, soulless, saying her name, Kat, Kat, Kat.
Her heart started hammering in her chest. Everything was too woozy. She wasn't in control. And she always fought for control. She kept her eyes trained on his neck and trembled under his palms.
'Get me the hell out of here.' she whimpered.
'Kat, I told you—'
'I saw them. I saw them. Just get me… get me out, please.'
He pressed a hand to her forehead. She was flushed and warm from dancing. Her eyes were trying to dart out and find whatever it was that had her so freaked. He held her chin and caught them, held them. 'Hey, hey. It's okay. Come on,' he said grimly. Dante swung an arm around her, huddled her close against his side and led her along the wall towards the exit, until she found fresh air and she could breathe.
And not see those eyes.
'I'm sorry,' she mumbled, truly meaning it. Her head had cleared enough for her to understand that she'd royally fucked up one of the sexiest moments of her life.
'S'okay, the place was pretty dead anyway.'
Lies to make her feel better were rare, but maybe he was just really worried, didn't want to make anything worse.
Was the alcohol just fucking with her? Was her mind just fucking with her? Maybe it had been the heat, the breathlessness, her peaking anxiety. Peaking arousal… she wanted to cry.
'Motherfucking cocksucker,' he said, like it was natural to him now, and opened the door wide for her. The seal knew her as its creator— she passed through with merely a flutter in her gut.
And she hardly had enough time to turn the light on before his hands smoothed over her shoulders, turned her towards him. He closed the door with his foot and stroked soft circles into the back of her arms. It made heat crawl across her, but it did not fit well with trying to clear her head of everything she saw.
'Dante…'
'Kat.' he replied evenly.
She didn't say anything else, and they seemed to get closer, seemed to find more than one place to press and find each other, and so he urged her against the wall beside the bathroom door. It was cold against the small of her back, a chill that sent a jolt up her spine.
He was looking at the last of her lipstick and hoping to smear it. Hoping to get that heat back in her cheeks and her heart racing for all the right reasons. He dropped his head and watched her thick lashes touch her cheeks.
He kissed her, and felt her tremble on his slow contact. He breathed deeply through his nose and she copied, and then copied him again when he tilted his head, for hard, open kisses, with his tongue sliding on hers.
It just felt different, like he wasn't holding back anymore. It was new. Not just his messy, untechnical attempts at making out with her for as long as he could. His arms hung loosely by his sides and she wondered if he might try and touch her, but in a way that was more than gentle strokes against her belly, her face.
He just kept kissing her that way. Fast, firm presses of his mouth. She couldn't keep up and made soft, raw noises that hitched with her breathing that made his blood boil. And then with all the gentleness his growing impatience could muster, he pulled back and took one look at her swollen lips, the way her eyes nearly crossed and she tried to follow his mouth for more.
His hand came up to cradle her ribcage, fingers finding a snug home in the dips between each bone. She was making happy, keening noises as he buried his face into her neck and sucked at skin that tasted of dry sweat, and smelt like him. He slipped his hand beneath her midriff and smoothed a big palm over her breast.
She shuddered in his arms.
'Kat… baby. Just let me make you feel good.'
He made her knees turn to jelly. Like she was some saucer-eyed teen and he was like every bad boy her would-be parents and friends would warn her about.
He squeezed softly, came back up from her neck to kiss her. Constant, nearly-there strokes of his tongue on hers, and he could have groaned at the way she got impatient, or desperate enough to drag her tongue over his, over his bottom lip. Felt her hands in his hair, pulling and scraping with her fingernails.
His thigh parted her legs and he found heat radiating from her. Rotating between slow thorough slides of his mouth on hers to nuzzling her jawline. And his thumb started drawing circles over her nipple and it was like a burst of stars behind her eyes, how much of a relief his attention brought. His hips trying to find the occasional, perfect grind against hers, and she felt how hard he was, how much he wanted her.
Just… just perfect.
And then his hand pressed against her thigh, drawing lazy circles.
She tried not to think about it too much, instead tried to think about the way his body was shaking, how he was so lost in the moment of touching her and trying to draw all those good things out of her, that he had no bad intent towards her in this action.
Just following the steps, knowing that's how it was done.
So he slipped a hand between her legs, and Kat felt everything. The base of his palm kneaded softly, and he gave a ragged breath and she moaned and didn't recognize that as a sound she'd ever really made, couldn't remember feeling anything so sensitive, made her feel like everywhere he touched was on fire and rippling.
His other hand slipped out of her shirt, slid up the wall to find a place beside her head, balling up into a fist. He leaned forward and started hitching her skirt higher with his forearm.
His hand lifted and started to slip beneath her tights. Touched her underwear and the dampness, rolling in circles, but the feeling was muted by the material. Then he went past her underwear and even his fingers felt cool against the overwhelming heat of her. She nearly yelped, that bittersweet feeling of coiling pleasure and alarm as one long finger slid across her. Light thatch of curls and soft skin. Slick, sensitive.
He parted her and dragged his fingertip across her clit.
She shuddered, and moaned, breathless little sounds.
'Fuck, Kat…'
Oh god.
He started pressing against her entrance, dipping, teasing.
Her hand snapped down to grab his wrist, close to yanking him away. Her heart was beating fast for all the wrong reasons.
This isn't a nightmare. She shouldn't have to tell herself this. She'd blocked it all out. She had moved past that. She was stronger and in control and she wanted Dante to touch her. His hands were wonderful, but those strokes were too familiar and it made her feel sick, like she was going to puke and—
'No— wait, wait.' she gasped, shaking her head furiously.
He froze. 'What's wrong?'
'I don't… I don't really…'
He drew his hand away, and her panic subsided. 'I'm not gonna hurt you, Kat.'
You don't know that. You don't know that.
Her hold tightened on him. 'I— I know. Just…'
'I'm sorry,' he said softly against her cheek.
'Don't—don't say sorry. I'm… just…'
Before she could even finish, he was kissing her again, hand safely back against her stomach. She felt slight stickiness. She could feel her tights now, clinging lower than where they had been, a telltale sign of that single moment when she'd nearly seen pure white. Now, she was too aware of everything, felt so horribly embarrassed by this while he just kept on touching her, forgetting about it completely.
'Dante.'
She pressed a hand to his chest and softly pushed him away.
He knew what this meant.
He stepped back without saying anything. His hand left her body. He searched her eyes, a side-to-side motion, like he was looking into each one with equal, deliberate scrutiny. Seeing if one of them told him a different story to the other.
'Maybe… can we stop?' she whispered. 'We should stop.'
He tilted his head at her, expression flat. The fist beside her head palmed out and he leaned against it, snapping his arm straight so that there was even more distance between them. She saw how much he was shaking, and couldn't pinpoint where his desire started and his frustration ended. Her lipstick was smudged all over his lips, a little bit across his cheeks.
'How many times are we gonna do this, Kat?' he asked bluntly.
Her eyes lowered to the ground. When he realized he wasn't going to get a reply, he rocked off the wall and rubbed the bridge of his nose. It had felt like a rhetorical question anyway. The fingers still wet from her were limp at his side. She got a waft of cool air as he walked away.
'Where are you going?' she asked, feeling numb.
'To go masturbate in the shower.' He closed the bathroom door loudly.
Kat blushed furiously, hugged her shoulders and stood there for a long time.
She cradled her tea, staring into the swirl of steam coming up to hit her pores for so long that eventually she found herself with a lukewarm drink. She was startled when she eventually brought it up to her lips. Made her realize how long she had actually been sitting there feeling sorry for herself.
Kat sighed, saw that her laptop was wide open beside her with a screensaver of a baby panda tripping over its own feet, she kept it on there because she knew Dante secretly liked it. She didn't even remember why she turned it on, and so simply closed the lid, finding herself in no mood to do anything. Weather forecasts predicted thunder and endless rain for the night, and by the sight of the heavy, black clouds hanging overhead, it deemed heading home for cover wise. Instead she found herself with cold tea and a half-eaten muffin, and the knowledge that when she got home, Dante wouldn't be there. And that he probably wouldn't return well into the morning, despite the warnings.
Three days ago she had opened her eyes to a dark room, a swooping feeling in her stomach that tied in with the clammy feeling of her flesh. It had been well past noon. Starving, and yet the thought of food made her want to vomit up what she hadn't the night before. She really was a lightweight.
Dante's couch was empty. She hadn't even heard him leave. The alarm clock read two-thirty pm, which was frightening to her because she'd taught herself not to be a heavy sleeper, and always woke up early. Unless she pulled an all-nighter herself sometimes, she was up before Dante, sipping on her black tea, ready to pass him a glass of juice as he fell off of his couch and pulled his pants on and cracked his neck, looking utterly miserable to be awake. Anything but a morning person. Hardly ever awake before one.
Unless he made it a priority to be up and out the door. Unless he did it to purposely avoid her.
But he still left her an aspirin, and a tall glass of water, which she guzzled thankfully.
She didn't leave her bed much that day. She took a long shower, too exhausted to stand so she sat down, and woke up an hour later squashed into the corner with cold tiles against her ass and equally cold water beating down at her. No hot shower for him tonight. When he was in such a foul mood, usually the smallest things like that could set him off.
Except he didn't come back, well beyond his normal mark. She lay awake in the darkness listening out for his curse words and his heavy boots. She was dozing by the time he walked past, ignoring her completely. Light was coming through the cracks in the curtain. He slumped against the couch, fully clothed. Elbows to his knees, hands running through his short, rough hair. He sat there for a long time while she pretended to sleep.
He peeked up at her once, shook his head. He undressed and curled up onto the couch and faced away from her.
The next day was similar, barely even crossed his path. When she did, she got a mouthful of normal, shit-eating Dante. But he avoided looking at her and didn't flirt with her at all, most days she kept a running tally but he didn't even break one. He was out the door for another long excursion that he had no desire to tell her about.
Kat sighed. It started raining gently. Droplets found their way against the shop window, pattering, a pleasant sound. She watched them drool down the glass and picked at her muffin, but found she had no further desire for it. What a waste.
She had panicked. Any amount of guilt did not stem from the fact that she had asked him to stop. Dante still had chivalry, despite how much of a jerk he could be. But there had been many moments where she found herself so lost in the touch of his hand or his mouth, and he had shown he was capable of gentleness, of going slow. But then she'd be reminded that she had been in these circumstances before, that somebody had touched her like this, somebody slimy, who had no right. She would freak, from old feelings, from knowing she was so inexperienced and Dante was… a deviant. Done it all. Seen it all. Seen better looking women, voluptuous women, like the ones that had been all over him at the bar.
She'd say stop, or push him away. And he'd blink, like coming out of a wonderful daze to find that he hadn't been gentle enough, good enough. Trembling and hard and stepping away, because that's what she wanted.
And Dante doesn't do that.
If he wanted something, he usually got it. And if he didn't, then he wasn't going to waste his time.
And he'd already stuck around for months. As a friend, as a protector, as her…
'Miss?'
Kat sat up straight and peered behind her left shoulder, to find nobody there. Scared now that she was hearing voices she swung a look over her right and found the young serving girl who usually stayed behind the counter, staring at her.
She was polite, a little shy. Blushed whenever Dante smirked or said anything to her.
'Miss, we're closing early due to the storm. My boss doesn't normally let us do this but… I could wrap your muffin and you can take it.'
Kat felt like crying at this kindness. 'I'm sorry. No, please, I don't mean to waste— thank you. Bye.'
The rain was heavier now, and she found herself without an umbrella. She stood in the opening of the café and glanced back at the clock mounted against the teal wallpaper— five-thirty. Dante would still be out on the streets. Knowing him he'd probably love a dirty fight, in the rain and the mud. He might not even come home tonight, the way things were going.
She didn't intentionally lead him on, that wasn't at all what she was doing with Dante. She had a lot of old fears that he would probably be sick of by now.
He'd never said that to her, or made her feel bad when she woke up from nightmares, apart from being naturally tired and cranky. But she knew he thought that way about her, he had to. Thought she was just being an idiot child about it all. Moaning one moment and then shoving him away the next, just playing with his emotions.
She didn't feel like going home to that empty space.
She shoved her small notebook up into her jumper and held it tightly against her chest and made a beeline for the opposite street.
It didn't even register as she walked through the door. First, there was him— a big enough surprise as it was. She'd been wandering around for hours, but it hadn't really killed that much time. He should still be out, finding liquor and demons to smear. His pants were darkened and sticking to his skin from the rain, but he'd come out of it a while ago and drip marks were all over the carpet. His chest was bare. The rain made his hair darken, too. A shade of gray, fighting to stray into his eyes.
And then she noticed the static air between them.
She was soaked, had probably done some serious damage to her laptop, which she still clung to, like her arms had been fused around it. She was shivering from the cold as she unfolded, placed it shakily on top of the drawer, nearly knocking over her vials and maps. Just watched him stand there with clenched fists, a frown on his face that spoke volumes of his frustration with her in that moment.
Kat closed the door so that she had a reason to break eye contact, having to use some force against the wind that wanted to come in and lick her damp skin. The sounds of thunder seeped through the thin walls. Howling rain, sparks of lightning out the window.
There was an intense moment of his eyes then finding hers and he approached her, until meagre inches were between them.
'Kat.' His voice found that low pitch, like gravel, just bordering unkind. He sounded equal amounts pissed off and frightened out of his mind. 'Kat, what the fuck were you doing?'
'What are you doing here?' she asked, not intentionally ignoring his question. It annoyed him even more.
'What do you think I'm doing here?' he snarled. 'Where the hell were you?'
'Just walking.' she murmured, feeling cornered.
He looked dumbstruck. 'Are you serious?'
His tone made her feel dumb. Walking around in a storm was dumb, but it wasn't nice all the same. 'I didn't think you would be home.'
'So you decided to just stroll around in a fucking storm?'
'I… got lost.'
This made him furious.
'Why didn't you call?' His voice rose. His hand took on an imploring form, shaking at her, sweeping the distance between them like the air had all the answers. 'You bought those fucking phones for a reason, Kat.'
She hadn't been at the pizza joint. He'd walked straight up to the windows to find they had closed early, the place an empty lot of stacked chairs and tables. It was one of the only place she went, besides staying crammed up in the motel room. Which she wasn't fucking in. He had wandered around in the rain, checking the bars and restaurants nearby— didn't expect to see her there. It just wasn't her scene. If she had any other places she liked to go during the day she hadn't told him. And she would have, Little Miss Adamant that he keep his phone on him and should ring or text her as soon as anything changed. He did the same fucking thing every day and he had assumed she did too— pouring over books and reading up online about anything that could help him, making useful shit out of semen, and Molotov's. Eating those white chocolate muffins that she loved. Going for jogs around the block to make sure she still kept in shape.
He had headed back to the motel, checking his phone periodically. The storm started making him feel nervous and he started pacing the room like a caged fucking animal. He hated that feeling. That somebody who was naturally dependent on him would just do something so stupid. Fuck people needing him. Fuck having a partner.
Fuck 'em.
But it was Kat.
She fought the urge to shrug now— her go-to response. She couldn't give him specifics. It had been growing dark quickly, only made worse from the rain. She had thought she'd just circle the block a few times to clear her head and feel the fresh rain, but then she'd gotten lost. And it had scared her at first, but she was scared even more of the thought that if she picked up her phone and called him, she would just get his anger, his hate. Or just… nothing. So she'd kept going until she felt numb and she ignored all the strangers and the homeless, pretended they didn't look at her. Felt the rain wash her skin and just…
And then she'd recognized the laundromat around the corner, calmness on her shoulders. She'd done it herself. She'd found her way home.
She was starving for a muffin and some hot tea again.
She had walked in the door to him there, not where he should be. Anger and… and fear in his eyes. For her. Something bubbled up in her.
'I knew you were mad at me for what happened the other night.' Her lip trembled so much she had to bite it, to keep it still. It made her realize how stupid she had been and how ridiculous she now felt. Dante sighed, seemed to deflate a bit from it. He lost a bit of tension in his jaw and he stepped away from her.
'So you stayed out in that?'
She gazed at the floor, hiding beneath her hood.
Dante shook his head. 'Kat, that's fucking stupid.'
'I knew you were just… gonna keep being a jerk.'
He looked at her helplessly.
'I am stupid.' she said softly.
He ran his hand through his hair, closed his eyes for a brief moment and gathered himself. 'You're not stupid,' he said, eyes slowly opening to gaze at her, with empty anger. But that small bit of fear was still there. 'Just call next time.'
Of course he would have come home to check she was safe, as soon as he knew about the bad weather. Of course he would go out searching and thinking of all the bad things that could be happening to her. Getting herself lost in a world currently ravaged by demons.
'No, I am. I'm an idiot.'
He always looked a bit lost in the face of her, like she was a conundrum he couldn't slice or fuck or drink his way through. She was Kat— damaged, sweet, weird. Used to being lonely, working for people and not with. Not used to the freedom or the danger he signified.
Dante was lost for words.
She was walking towards him, her boots squelching.
'I'm really sorry.'
Before she even knew what she was doing her arms were around him, she was burying her face into his chest and the comforting smell of him, the muscles that tensed from her touch. She had never hugged him before— and she didn't count all those hot, short embraces as something as sweet and meaningful as… as the downright snuggle she gave him now.
It took him a long time to find the confidence in putting an arm around her. Another hand was on back of her neck and he dragged back the hood of her jumper, and rested his chin on her damp hair. All of his movements were awkward, self-conscious.
She tried to imagine the last time anybody had ever hugged him.
'What the hell are you sorry about?' he said softly into her hairline.
'The other night, I…'
He shook his head. 'I was a dick. Fuck what I said.'
She nodded in agreement, but started to tremble. 'And I keep pushing you away. In my head it's like I just… I get to a point and then I just snap. Like I'm not even here anymore. I'm somewhere else. I'm in danger.'
He tilted her head back so he could get a good look into her eyes. He looked serious, the most serious she had ever seen him, not even that intense sexy-serious. It scared her, because it wasn't Dante. She was turning him into a guilty mess, making him tired around the edges. 'I'm sorry.'
She blinked back tears. 'Don't give up on me, okay? Just give me time. Just…'
Fucking hell, Kat.
He wiped a tear away with his thumb. 'Nah, you're stuck with me.'
She touched his jaw and went onto the tips of her toes. She was coming up to meet him, with her mouth open and willing, and he responded at the last second. Her teeth knocked against his and his next thought was about the way she pressed her soaked body to him, pulled at his cheeks. Her eyes were shut tight, and she was tense, like he was going to reject her.
Fuck that, he thought, grabbing fistfuls of her hoodie and kissing her until she was breathless. Something inside him that had felt all twisted and gnarled just turned to wisps, nearly made his head spin. And then she was pushing him away, but it wasn't like before. With the push of her small hands came the feel of the bed hitting the back of his knees. The sudden nudge made their mouths slip and he took this time to find her jaw, and her throat. She made a soft sound, he felt her hands dig into his hair. Her fingers felt like icicles on his skin.
She was doing everything she knew with her tongue, with her body, and she'd never kissed him like this before. Desperate and wet and fucking amazing.
Her teeth started chattering and he pulled away, so caught up in the moment he forgot she was drenched, freezing and that she was trying to hide it. Dante let out a warm breath and started rubbing her arms up and down. Her eyelids were flickering open, confused that his mouth wasn't on hers anymore.
'You're freezing,' he said, while he stepped towards her and made her shuffle back so that they were further away from the bed.
'I'm fine.'
'You need to have a shower.'
Kat was usually the one to listen to reason— in fact she was usually the one reiterating reason. But instead of accepting his rational argument she dragged his head down again and kissed him hard, stuck her tongue in his mouth and basically made every chivalrous thought he had go deep back down into the depths.
And this was amazing, it really was. The way she was throwing herself at him was basically a wet dream come true. But it was also fucking weird, because suddenly the kiss just disintegrated from a sweet mutual apology to her trying to shove him onto the bed, something he wouldn't relent to despite how much she pushed.
Her fingernails ran down his skin, like a hasty mark of territory, making him suck in a sharp breath. Her small hand pressed against his thigh. He felt it tremble. So, so nervous. His eyes turned heavy as she pressed against the buttons of his pants, directly over his crotch, and his blood just ran down him. The state of arousal he had already been in increased tenfold.
She tried to undo them one-handed, but the anxiety that made her hands shake betrayed her. And then both her hands were between them suddenly, fumbling for his button as she popped it in one swoop, as she tried to gather strength into the bones of her fingers. Trembling more and more.
'Kat.'
Her head fell against the curve of his neck. He should have tried harder to stop her.
He felt her timidly bite and suck, as close as she could to where his veins pulsed.
Fuck. Fuck. His zip went down.
'Kat, seriously—'
She touched the hard dip of his hipbone just as he closed a hand around her wrist, but she dragged against the pressure.
She wrapped her hand around his dick through his boxers and his chest heaved.
She froze up and held her breath, while he fought the urge to thrust himself into her hand. It was safe to say that he hadn't tried particularly hard to stop her. She bent her head and closed in on herself. And then her breath was getting shallow and the hand on him shook so hard he started to lose all semblance of thought and pleasure.
So he patted her arm, a casual movement to try and cool her down. Her hand was still hanging onto him awkwardly and so he pried her away, held that hand to his chest, stroking and trying to sooth back that panic that was making her eyes so big and wet.
She was going to start crying and he shouldn't have let her touch him.
'Kat, hey, don't—'
'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… I— I just—'
'Don't worry about it. You need to have a shower. You're shivering.'
He tried not to draw too much attention to his crotch as he adjusted and zipped himself back up.
Thankfully, she didn't cry again. In fact, she looked very disappointed. With herself, with the whole situation. He clenched his jaw, took her hand and led her into the bathroom. He felt a small amount of resistance, but like he was going to let her freeze her ass off. And she'd obviously come to a realization, had jumped the trenches that was her nerves, and her fear of him, and him touching her. It had given her such a surge of self-assurance that she'd jumped a little too far ahead of herself. It wasn't the best confidence boost for a woman nearly have a heart attack after touching your junk, but he would take what he could get with Kat.
He let go of her and walked towards the shower. She stood in the doorframe looking like a lost kid, wringing the ends of her jumper. Dante turned the shower on, left his palm out so he could feel for hot water. The taps were cold and the plumbing less than superb, so he stood there for a long time watching her.
'I don't want you to think that was a direct response to your penis.' she said quietly.
Dante messed his hair up awkwardly. 'Yeah, I… I got that, thanks.'
They stood silently then, at opposite ends of a tiny space, until he was happy with the temperature.
Honestly, he did have every intention of leaving her to it. But when he tried to get past her, her palm pressed onto his arm. It wouldn't have stopped him, no matter how hard she tried. But she was staring at him so imploringly that he stopped dead in his tracks.
'Are you still mad?'
'Not really.' He wasn't going to let her pull a stunt like that again, but he at least got the rage back under his skin. 'Just take a shower and get warm, okay?'
Another hand, against his chest.
He gave her a hard look. 'What do you want, Kat?'
Her mouth quivered. 'I don't know.'
He ran the hair back out of his face with his fingers. 'What do you want me to do?' he asked, helplessly.
Kat was quiet. It was almost like she hadn't heard him, concentrating so hard on a point near his ear for so long that he started to fidget. Her leg shifted and she ghosted across the material of his jeans, clinging to his skin. But a thrill had gone through her.
'Stay here?' she asked softly.
'I'll be right outside.'
Kat shook her head, swallowed. As he watched her throat, the microscopic movement of gulping down her nerves and fear. She ran her cold, shivering fingers across his chest, up and down, silky soft against muscle.
Dante rolled his eyes. He reached over her, grabbed the handle and pulled the door shut. With nowhere for the steam to escape, it started to fog up the mirror, making the room humid and slick.
He urged her arms up and dragged the sopping hoodie off her body. He dragged the shirt, too, and by the time it was over her head she gave no resistance, he tossed them onto the floor. An arm immediately went to cover her chest, blushing furiously. A cute little polka dot bra. He saw her hard nipples through the material, but she was hiding it all.
And as a stark contrast her free hand started going for the buttons on his jeans again.
'What are you doing?' he murmured.
'I… thought that was pretty obvious.' She sounded almost shy.
His mouth quirked. He slid a hand from her elbow to her wrist, affection in the movement. 'That doesn't really mix well with the way you're trying to cover up.'
She blushed. 'You make me nervous.'
He rubbed the back of his neck, frowning. 'That's not really what I was going for.'
'I know. It's just, you're experienced. I'm… I'm not. Really not. That makes me nervous.'
'You think I care?'
'I hope you do.' she shot back.
He smirked at her. 'That's not what I meant.'
Kat, after much deliberation, lowered her other arm.
He didn't spend much time admiring her, because as she did so she pressed her palm against the hardness of him, mimicking a stroke, and he was suddenly preoccupied. She wasn't freaking out as badly, no overt trembling or tears. Her own arousal peaked through the scent of her, the way her pupils dilated. But it wasn't enough. He didn't want her afraid, on edge like this— he wanted her in a melting, hybrid state of pleasure and breathlessness. He wanted her teeth and nails biting his skin and asking for more.
'Just, you know, show me what to do. I promise I won't freak out again. I just haven'ttouched anyone in a long time.'
'Kat, we have all the time in the world.'
'Are you turning me down?' she said softly. He caught the teasing in her voice.
'No. Hell no. But—'
'You don't want me to touch you?'
His brow rose. 'It's not something I think about every five minutes or anything.' he said dryly.
She smiled at him, relaxing.
His jaw clenched, eyelids flickering a bit as her fingers curled around him through the material anyway.
'Is this okay?'
'…Sure.'
She stroked him, up and down.
'Okay. Like that. Definitely.' he bit out.
'You can touch me too, if you want.'
He didn't touch her, not for a long moment. The way she was stroking him was a little haphazard and shy and so his pleasure was a little jagged. He held her shoulders and kept her gaze and stroked all the soft skin he could in encouragement. And as soon as he noticed the spike in her confidence, his hands went up to her breasts and he squeezed them both.
She thought for a moment he might unclasp her bra, and she swallowed the nervousness of being naked in front of him. It wasn't really a matter of being embarrassed about her body. She knew she wasn't ugly. She was slim. She had nice skin. But she hadn't done this in a long time. She couldn't even remember if she enjoyed it. Nerves suddenly began to swallow her instead.
But he didn't. His hold on her wrist tightened and he gently pried her away from him. She was about to protest when she felt his hands at the front of her shorts, working the buttons free quickly. The sound of her zip rang hard in her ears. He pulled them down her legs slowly, crouching to do so, and he stopped to tug her feet out of her boots and socks. For some reason, the image of his big hands on her ankles turned her on.
His thumb slipped between the elastic of the lacy little number she wore and her hipbone, stroking softly, and then his mouth found that same spot and her hands went for his hair to yank. She shuddered and tried to remember if the hipbone was an erogenous zone and whether or not she was going crazy. Dante mouthed his way up her stomach and that erogenous zone thought kept repeating itself over and over in her head until she concluded that every inch was her was just that embarrassingly sensitive.
Kat was a flushed mess by the time their eyes met again and Dante marveled at it.
She's fucking beautiful. Just lift her up against the wall. Just fuck her already.
Dante pulled her towards the open shower. Not taking his eyes off her, walking back into the stream of hot water that was about on par with his body heat. Inch by inch she watched the hairs on his head flatten under the water, watched the rivulets run down his skin. It defined his muscles, the way they had to change course and find an easier slope. It made her mouth dry.
She stepped in and he almost saw the steam coming off her, and thought about changing the temperature. But she didn't react to it. She was worried about the makeup running down her face, even worse than before. She wiped at the streaks. Dante didn't even care. Because he was suddenly nuzzling her and pulling her hips against his, biting and sucking hard enough that he left a bruise on her collarbone, right next to her scar. She moaned and jerked against him.
He ran his tongue along the bruise softly, but didn't stop. He went all the way up to her ear, where he took her lobe between his teeth, and then his hand was on her thigh and grabbing a handful of her ass. He was good at this, reducing her to a whimpering mess. All she could hear was the showerhead and the sound of her own voice, but he was silent, so intent on what he was doing to her.
'Take those off,' she said suddenly, tugging at the pants between them.
He pulled away. 'All of it?'
She blushed furiously. 'Um… maybe not all of it.'
'You sure? Wouldn't want to disappoint.'
She frowned. 'You're teasing me.'
'It's easy.'
A rough thump and his back was against the tiles. He was smirking down at her, happy with himself.
'You can see me naked. I don't mind.'
'…Not everyone's like you.' she mumbled.
'You definitely should be.'
She cleared her throat. 'The first time I met you, you were naked.'
He laughed as her face went hot from the memory. 'At least we got all that awkward shit out of the way, right?'
She shrugged and wished she could agree. It seemed her sole purpose in life was to make everything awkward.
He pushed her fringe out of her face, out of her big eyes, smudged with her makeup. He'd never really seen beauty in anything, not really. He never stuck around long enough. He remembered his mother as lovely, but all he had was broken memories. He'd surrounded himself with women that were wild and fun and sexy. But Kat was pretty and waiflike. And beautiful. Self-consciousness was something he'd never seen in an attractive light before, but he had realized quickly that Kat's didn't stem from her looks. She never tried to cover up the scars on her face, or complained about her body. In fact the clothes she wore sometimes made him rethink the whole meek act she had going on.
Dante did as instructed, stepping out of his sopping wet jeans and kicking them out of the shower.
'Happy now?'
She stepped in close, hugging him again. Her smooth legs kept snaking around his in wonder. The cotton of his boxers met the lace of her underwear and the heat between them increased tenfold.
'Mmhm.'
Dante grinned.
The water was still hot, but if memory served it wouldn't stay that way for much longer. He should probably get her out of it, get her dry. Make her some tea or whatever the fuck that herbal shit she drank was. But then again, the way she was staring at him, keeping him backed against the wall. Aroused, waiting for him to do something.
He reached up to squeeze her breasts, and leaned down to put his mouth across her chest, slowly dragging her bra down until more and more pale skin came into contact with his teeth and his tongue. And Kat gasped when his rough skin on hers was almost too much. He pinched her nipple, and then smoothed the pain over with the pad of his thumb and the lance of pleasure that went through her was almost agonizing, and addicting, and even more when his tongue wrapped around her other and she nearly yanked the hair out of his head. With her bra awkwardly squashed between his chin and the underside of her breast, he reached around her to tug at the hooks until they came free.
She was trembling. He lifted his head to look into her eyes, and urged her arms out so he could slide it off of her, and toss it to the shower floor.
He took her hips, indolently curving his hands over her backside and her underwear, hooking his fingers between them. He pulled and held her close, kissing her cheek and mouth. And then he moved his arm between them. Slowly, listening to her breath catch in her throat, watching her shoulders arch, hunch over. He rolled his palm against her, over and over again until eventually she eased into it. And he knew he pressed with enough gentleness to make the feeling go on. Her mouth opened, nothing came out, nothing audible.
'You okay?'
Kat was busy gnawing on her bottom lip and to show him just how okay she was, she pushed her hands across the plains of his chest and stomach appreciatively, and arched into his touch. He breathed deeply, feeling every scrape of her nails.
Dante closed his eyes as he pushed her underwear to the side and ran his fingers across her, and then altogether opened them, because he didn't want to miss that look on her face. Made of silk, of softness, of heat. He slid against her clit over and over and watched her chest rise and fall and her legs go weak. He mapped Kat's small back with his other hand, trying to warm her everywhere, and then he switched them and he pressed her into the wall, pressed close himself. Slender body, her knees shaking, his dick hard and pressing against her thigh. She gave a noise he identified to be a feeling of overwhelming pressure, and wanting to come from it. He pushed his finger inside her.
He knew this bit, off by heart. Heat, screams, slickness, convulsing muscles. His name in repetition to match his thrusts. She was so wet, he had no trouble sliding into her. She was so, so tight that he wanted to groan. She was biting him so hard at his chest and his teeth ached, and he almost couldn't take it. Get a hold of yourself.
Dante shook his head and pressed his mouth to her hair, kissing and trying to find softness again, breathing, thrusting his finger over and over. His thumb mashed and rotated against her clitoris and there was something wonderful about the repetition of it, as she twisted up.
Eventually, under his heavy gaze, digging her nails into his skin, she seized up and lost her sweet little momentum. She started to warn him through bitten-off repetitions of his name as she faltered.
And fuck, if it wasn't the hottest thing he'd heard in his life.
He tilted her chin up, so he could look into her eyes, and she saw the pure wonder there.
His finger twisted, hooked inside her, and hit a rigid spot he had been searching for and that was it. She saw white.
'C'mon, baby…'
She tightened around his finger and she came, stammering, simmering under the look he gave her. Kat whimpered and her cheeks found that rosiness that he loved. She just looked at him like he was everything. Their kiss was a wonderful mess of tongue and teeth as she slumped, panted. Sated and dreamy. She continued to clench around him stutteringly, until he felt her body. Sticky fingers, pressed against her thigh. She winced for only a moment.
Against every throbbing urge he had to unbutton himself and align against her, thrust up and home and probably come instantly from it, Dante murmured in her ear, mostly sweet nothings, something to make her giggle and still her beating heart. He fought it so much that he almost believed the softness in his hands as he pushed the hair back out of her face again and smiled, as she grinned dreamily back.
Dante felt the water starting to drift from lukewarm to uncomfortable, so he reached up and shut the tap off. Her legs were still like jelly, the weight of her leaning heavily on him. She clung around his shoulders and was breathing so deeply he wondered for a second if she'd fallen asleep like a flamingo.
'It's cold now,' she whispered finally, after a few moments of awkwardly standing together.
Dante nodded and led her out. He grabbed blindly for a towel and felt her pink fluffy one, shaking it open.
'You can probably let go now.' he said, amused.
She clung tighter. 'Maybe.' she mumbled, sounding tired and happy.
Dante smirked and gently pried her off, catching her waist as she swayed. He wrapped the towel around her, even tucked it to stay in place, and quickly dried himself off.
He grabbed her pajamas off the bed and passed them through a slightly parted door, searching through his drawers to find himself a dry pair of boxers. Still hard as fuck. Trying not to think about it.
Kat stepped out of the bathroom with a clean face and brushed, damp hair. His back was to her and he was busily trying to think of anything but his raging hard on.
'Dante?'
'Mm?'
She gripped the towel around her neck and waited for him to turn around, but he didn't.
He suddenly felt ridiculous standing there like that, so instead walked to the kitchen with a purpose, boiling the kettle and readying her tea leaves in the strainer.
'That was nice. Thank you.'
This was a level of naivety (or sincerity, he still couldn't figure it out) he'd never really had to deal with before. 'Thanks, Kat.' he replied dryly, over the clang of a spoon.
'You didn't, you know…'
He closed his eyes and everything paused. 'No. I don't know. You'll have to be more specific.'
'You didn't come.'
He thought about messing with her more, but lost the desire for it. Maybe he should have sent her out of the bathroom to change and just quickly jerked off. It wouldn't have felt as good as her hand or simply fucking her but at least he wouldn't be stuck with this… big… problem, and the awkward conversation she was trying to have with him.
'Yeah, I know.'
'Can I— do you want me to—'
Dante shrugged. 'Nah. It's fine.'
'That's not normally your style.'
He peered over his shoulder. 'How would you know what my style is?'
She actually smirked at him. He could feel himself rubbing off on her— figuratively. Literally.
'I'm starting to.'
He laughed at her. 'Right.'
The kettle boiled over to ready, steaming, bubbling water taking up the quiet sounds of the apartment until it settled and finally, so did his erection. Barely. She liked her tea black and strong and sugarless, and so he left it to brew in the mug for a moment.
She yawned again, still staring at his hips.
'Tea. And bed, for girls that like to go strolling around in storms.' he reminded her. Said storm was still doing its best to rip the motel off its hinges.
He heard the springs of her old matrass groan under her weight, as he dumped the strainer in the sink— a job for the morning. He turned to her, to find her on the edge of the bed, now staring at the floor.
The tea was still boiling, too hot for her mouth, so he went to her, put the mug down on the drawers, wondered if he should just follow through with the urge to kiss her or go to sleep.
'…Dante?'
He looked down at her, away from the mountain of blankets and junk piled onto his most comfortable couch.
She was wringing her hands. 'You can sleep here.'
'Yeah, well I'm paying for this dump, so…'
She shook her head, a little more vigorously than necessary. 'In my bed. I mean in my bed.'
His chest clenched. Weird.
'Um… Dante?'
'Yes?'
They forgot about the tea. Her body was in a time lapse all its own, as she reached up and put wrapped her hands around his forearms. Her thumbs stroked the dip of bone there. She leaned forward, and pressed her mouth to his hip and kissed him there with a quivering mouth. He recognized this kiss.
Then her fingers ran down his skin in glades of softness, before tugging at his boxers.
'I would like to return the favor,' she told him shyly.
Dante could have seen stars behind his eyes. He was very aware of how receptive she was after that, how she met him head on with every kiss and found his mouth with her tongue in long, indolent sweeps that mirrored his. Something had definitely changed, eased inside her.
She pulled him into her bed. He took her in his arms and found the small groove her body had made over the months. And he couldn't help himself at first, this strange territory, these new limits. Still not naked, because Kat did things in steps, didn't rush into things like he did. Maybe she thought that was how it had to be, and he bit his tongue trying to explain that the skimpy cotton of his boxers was nothing between them. She pressed close and for a moment he was above her, and she was a small thing in his arms, surrounded by muscle and skin and the soft sheets beneath. He pulled at her hips ground down to hear her gasp, swallowing that noise with a kiss.
But determinedly she forced a hand between them, before she lost herself. She popped open the tiny button of his boxers and started pressing at his shoulder, asked if she could touch him.
Like he would have said no. He fell onto his back, yielding to the hand pushing him back. She pushed the material out of the way, and Kat started with a panicked curiosity, trembling as she touched him and he jerked.
Kat found a rhythm, after her exploration was done, going off the sounds he made. She stroked him into oblivion, and he said nothing about this intimacy and what little the clothes did to impede it, because suddenly, he understood that it did mean the world. To feel her body, wrapped in soft cotton. Small and pliant under his mouth as she jerked him off and wrapped a leg around his.
She kept asking "like this?" and he stopped himself from blowing his load so many times, indulging in the way she gently snapped her wrist, shook around him, paid so much attention to everything because she wanted it to be perfect. She shook through it all, breathing hard, mirroring him and so absorbed with his pleasure.
He came hard, filthy words on his tongue, breathing them into her mouth. And her name, soft amongst it. Her sticky hand and the convulsing muscles of his abdomen. He didn't move for a long time, steeling himself as she kissed his neck, stroked his hair.
Eventually, when he could walk again, he went and cleaned himself up in the bathroom, and when he came back, his spot in her bed was still wide open. She was patting it, and beckoning him.
He never slept on the couch again, even the days he was threatened with it.
TBC
author's note: so one more chapter to go and this shindig is over. I would really appreciate feedback for this! would like to know if you think I've got Dante and Kat in character and whether or not you like this little story. some more inspiration for these two, "Ugly Boy" by Die Antwoord, "No Diggity" the Chet Faker version, and pretty much every Black Kids song in existence. and thank you so much for the reviews and feedback!
this chapter has been edited