Vampire Academy and Dimitri are still all Richelle Mead's :-D
Malina slipped out of his bed sometime during the night. Dimitri assumed that she went back to the feeders, and he was glad that she had recovered enough to visit them. He pretended to still be asleep when she crawled back in and snuggled close. She kissed him, her lips barely brushing over his. He shifted slightly, accepting the kiss but not yet returning it.
"I've dreamed of this," she murmured, and at first he wasn't sure if she realized he was no longer asleep, or if she even meant for him to hear. He felt happier than he'd felt in weeks – possibly years. She tickled him lightly and his façade broke.
"You dreamed of making out in the infirmary?" he teased.
She kissed down his cheek and moved lower, her lips wandering along the underside of his jaw. "Not in the infirmary." Her mouth was hot, and her fingers slipped just underneath the scrubs and brushed against his lower back. He pulled her closer, letting her feel how much she affected him.
"You're amazing," he murmured.
She took his hand and guided it under the short hospital gown, up and over the curve of her hip and to her waist. He splayed his hand over her stomach and traced the edge of her ribs with his fingers. She smiled against his lips. "You're just now figuring this out?"
He slid both hands around her, resting them over her spine. He kissed her more deeply, and without thinking, his hands followed her curves. She didn't stop him. Instead she brought one of his hands back under the gown, over her ribs, and guided his other hand lower.
They'd blown past her boundaries and he held himself back, waiting for her to stop them. Again, she didn't.
Her hands returned to his body, stroking his skin. Her slender fingers traced his stomach muscles and slowed only the slightest bit before sliding under his waistband and down his thighs. The sensation and surprise of her hot skin made him gasp against her cheek.
"Is this okay?" she whispered, moving her hands more deliberately, her lips brushing his ear.
He nodded automatically, his body aching from holding himself back. He moved cautiously, wanting to touch her in return but not knowing the boundaries of her new comfort zone. He pulled her closer, their bodies barely separated by the infirmary-issued clothing.
"Are you okay?" he asked, struggling to form thought, much less words.
"More than okay." Her mouth trailed down his neck, her hands almost entirely stealing away his sense.
He rolled them slightly and broke the kiss, pulling back just far enough to look at her - only her. He'd slept with more Moroi girls than he cared to count. He hadn't used them or been used by them: they'd all been nice girls and he'd enjoyed their company, but their bodies had become almost interchangeable. He didn't want that with Malina. He wanted to see her hair spill across the pillow, see her eyes close in bliss.
She didn't give him the chance, pulling him back, kissing him more fiercely, digging her fingers into the sides of his face. He lost himself for a moment, returning the intensity. He didn't resist when she took over, pushing him back onto the narrow hospital bed. The whisper of rustling sheets and their shared ragged breathing echoed in the silence of the infirmary.
He pulled back again, trying to look in her eyes, but she straddled him and pinned him down and kept kissing him, knees pressed tightly into his sides. He couldn't think, lost in the sensation of her skin, her hands, stroking and grasping every available inch of him. She pulled off his shirt and he helped her, their hands and mouths barely pausing. He wanted more though, wanted to see her. He pulled back, trying again to look in her eyes. She pressed closer.
He tried to rise and sit up, sliding his hands higher under her hospital gown, fingers fumbling with the ties to the back. She pushed him back down to the mattress, both hands flat on his chest. He froze, afraid that he'd presumed too much, but, impatient, she freed the ties herself. She tossed the gown aside and began tugging at the waistband of his scrubs.
The sight of her above him, almost completely naked, was enough to wipe his higher brain functions for a few more moments. But as she leaned in to kiss him again, still struggling with his knotted drawstring, breath rasping and skin hot, it dawned on him, slowly, that she was different. He'd had more than hints that when she was ready to do away with her careful boundaries that she would be enthusiastic and uninhibited, but that wasn't the sense he had of her now.
Her nails dug into his skin, pulling at his waistband, not waiting for his response, swatting his hands away when he tried to help. She forced her mouth deeply into his, demanding and rough. She didn't bite him – no civilized Moroi would ever consider that without permission – but her fangs scraped against his teeth and bruised the soft tissues of his mouth. He opened his mouth to her, gently battling her exploring tongue, trying to match her intensity while doing what he could to soothe the frantic, needy, almost angry edge to her desire.
He wanted her – after two weeks of carefully respecting her boundaries he was more than ready for more - but some irritating, confusing sense told him he shouldn't take her like this.
His budding resolve weakened when she succeeded in releasing the knot. Automatically, he lifted his body and she pushed the rough fabric down to his knees. He palmed her hips, wrapping his long fingers around her curves. He kept his last shred of control – barely - not yet sliding his hands beneath the last bit of fabric covering her. He pulled her tight against him and his own breath rasped in his ears.
With any other Moroi girl he wouldn't have hesitated – had never hesitated. But he couldn't have sex with her, not like this. He ripped his mouth away. "Stop."
She froze, her body still covering his, her mouth against his cheek. "What's wrong?"
He couldn't explain. He tried to rationalize his hesitation as simply part of his training. Being attacked created a heightened sense of connection, and an adrenaline-fueled need that could be mistaken for sexual attraction by both guarded and guardian. It was one of the main reasons that male-female (or other pairs with similar sexual preferences) guardian assignments were more carefully scrutinized. All novices were educated on the phenomenon in clinical terms and cautioned against acting on those feelings, taught it was their responsibility to remain professional under those circumstances. He couldn't ignore that Malina's discard of her boundaries coincided too exactly with their attack.
When his silence continued she nipped at his lip. He jumped slightly, startled, but she didn't draw blood. Her mouth moved lower, kissing down his chest. "Don't worry about it."
He almost didn't stop her, almost let her continue. He wasn't her guardian, she had made that clear. Even if her sudden willingness was due to the emotional aftermath of the attack, he could still enjoy the benefits.
But he couldn't.
"No." He pulled her back up, carefully anchoring his hands on her hips and bringing her eye to eye. She turned her head.
Her voice was a whisper. "Don't you still want me?"
He did the only thing he could under the circumstances. He kissed her as gently and thoroughly as he knew how, burying his fingers in her hair, drawing her body close. She kissed him harder, her hands, her body pressing into his. He let her, but stayed in control, both of his own actions and their shared desires.
He could barely understand it himself. He wanted her - this uninhibited girl who had backed him into a tree. He wanted this girl who set her boundaries but had given fully and unselfishly within the realm of her comfort. He wanted this girl who noticed – and cared - when he'd slipped and shared some sliver of his past.
But he didn't want this frantic, needy girl who couldn't meet his eyes.
He broke the kiss. "I want you," he said, the evidence obvious between them. "But not –" he gestured vaguely.
She pushed her hands against his chest and pulled away in one swift movement, sitting back hard next to him on the thin mattress.