A/N Thanks for all your support, guys!
Antonin openly watched his zhar-ptitsa's eyes fly back and forth along the text as she rapidly took in the book's theory of how specific arithmancy equations could be linked to the art of spell creation. She'd never read it before, which didn't surprise him because even in his day the book had only been available in the Restricted Section of the school library - Hogwarts had always been cautious about promoting interest in spell creation amongst pupils in case it led to unforeseen and/or disastrous results. Antonin's copy was his own but it had been seized by the Ministry upon his initial imprisonment and only returned to him once he'd begun researching Granger's curse again back in July.
"I've seen this before," she said, pointing to a complicated chart at the bottom of the next page before looking up at him. "There's one like it in your notebook." Her expression was bright, keen. It wasn't the same vitality as when she was blazing with anger or lust, but it was a far cry better than the reserved demeanour she had with her shields up. She laughed. "No wonder I couldn't understand it at the time."
The only other instance Antonin had ever heard her laugh was when she had ignorantly mocked his life choices. This was something quite different and was a sign that his new tactics were working: Granger was getting increasingly comfortable in his presence, falling deeper under his power, unknowingly becoming his in every way that he could claim her. After the months of hard battles between them, this was almost too easy.
If he'd known how quickly she'd soften towards him with just a few minutes of academic discussion, he'd have started doing so weeks ago. It was like she was starving for it. Did she not talk about her learning with any of her friends? Perhaps Potter and Weasley were bigger imbecilic cunts than he'd thought. No matter, it was certainly benefitting Antonin tremendously. He'd felt confident after she'd first agreed to his requests that he'd be able to convince her to drop her shields at one of the next few visits, but to have her immediately enter his cell without them even in place for what was now the second cycle in a row was beyond his expectations. He hadn't even had to try.
It was much more difficult to rein in his desire to touch her when he knew she was defenceless. His fingers itched and strained to surge forwards and give them both the satisfaction they were desperate for, but he knew how important it was to show restraint, to get her to start trusting him. Because even though he considered Granger to be his, as much as he believed in the power he had over her, he knew that if she was ever going to give herself to him completely she would have to have a certain amount of belief in him. She needed to have confidence that he wasn't just going to take advantage of any weaknesses or opportunities she presented him with. It was going to be a war of patience but he knew the victory would be sweet enough to make him endure it. And so he kept his twitching hands to himself, kept his frustrations hidden and didn't even complain last time when she put up her mental shields before she would let him touch her even though he fucking hated seeing her lock herself away from him. But he'd done it because he knew. He knew that he'd have his moments, his chances, when he could push the line between them to a new level of acceptable if the opportunity was right. She craved his touch beyond everything. She'd shown time and again how she could only resist him for so long. If she thought she had control then she'd take more risks, start asking for twenty seconds of his touch, one minute, five minutes, maybe even deciding not to bother with her shields for once.
And Antonin would be there, ready.
He would make his dream into reality.
That dream… He thought about the daydream often. His recollections of their time together dominated his thoughts as he replayed the sensations over and over. It still amazed him how real it had felt and it only left him hungering for her more than ever. Getting to touch and taste her in the most intimate ways was going to take time, but he'd brought other aspects of the dream into life at the first opportunity. Hearing her call him Antonin, conversing in Russian, she had no idea how much he was enjoying it: the echoes of his daydream and the promise of what was to come.
He had refrained from using either of the remaining charms yet because he didn't want to run through them too soon. Given Granger's amenable mood lately, she'd probably agree to make him more if he asked but he could wait a little longer to avoid looking desperate. Nor did he particularly want to give her the opportunity to ask what his daydreams entailed. If she ever did, he'd obviously have to lie, which wasn't an issue at all but he wasn't sure what fake dream would be the best answer to further his cause and still be believable.
Who did Hermione Granger think he was?
Who could Antonin make her think he was?
Against his will, he was suddenly taken back to the part of the daydream that he avoided thinking about at all costs: when he hadn't known who he was for a moment. Outside of the peculiar nature of the charm, where his choices were now no longer entirely his own, he was quickly able to confirm his purpose - Antonin Dolohov, loyal Death Eater to the Dark Lord. There was no need to delve any deeper and there never would be…
There was sudden pressure on his forearm accompanied by a tentative, "Antonin?"
He broke out from his unintentional moment of introspection with a slight shake of his head and refocused on Granger, who was looking at him with mild concern. "What?" he said more brusquely than intended, moving his arm away from her touch.
Her eyes dropped to the piece of parchment that sat between them, the quill held lightly in her fingertips and its tip blackened with ink. "The chart in your notebook that's based on the one in here. I was trying to see whether I could remember it properly." She started to inch the parchment back from him. "Forget it. It's probably completely wrong."
Antonin pulled it out of her hands and ran his eyes over the complicated calculations.
"I'm sorry - you must be bored," she murmured but he wasn't listening. "This was supposed to be a discussion and I've just sat here and read this book the whole time. We can talk about something else. I actually wanted to-"
"This is exactly right," Antonin cut in using English. He looked up from the parchment in mild astonishment. "How did you remember all those numbers, milaya?"
Her already flushed face reddened even further and he could tell that she was loving the praise. She brushed a hand across her heated forehead and tucked some hair behind her ear as she gave a modest little shrug. "It annoyed me that I didn't understand its relevance. You didn't put any explanatory notes around it. A few weeks ago I copied it a couple of times to try and figure it out. It just stuck with me, I guess."
Antonin had always known that she was intelligent, briefed about it before the Department of Mysteries raid, and then witnessed it for himself when she'd cleverly thought to silence him so that he couldn't reveal Potter's location during the search. (Although obviously the smartest thing to do would've been to kill him or at least stupefy him so that he couldn't counterattack, not that Antonin was complaining about how things had turned out). There had been numerous occasions in their meetings ever since that proved she was academically gifted, but Antonin was now truly starting to comprehend and appreciate her vast intellect - it possibly rivalled his own. There were very few people that he'd encountered during his life that he considered his intellectual equal and even less that he'd spent much time with.
His feelings of astonishment at seeing Granger's perfect recollection of his arithmancy chart was replaced with a bizarre sense of loss. He realised that he was lamenting Granger's parentage, that it was such a waste for those abilities to be bestowed onto a mudblood. If she was in possession of a noble lineage, Antonin didn't doubt that she had the ability to achieve greatness in whatever line of work she chose, especially with the rise of the Dark Lord that Antonin hoped knew was only a matter of time. A few images flew through his brain, pictures of a future that might have been if the circumstances of her birth had been different: Granger taking the Dark Lord's mark, working on powerful new spells together, Antonin leading her through the front door of his refurbished family home (their home), the two of them in places of honour by their Lord's side, all other wizards and witches bowing in fear and respect as they walk past, a small brood of children to continue the Dolohov legacy…
Antonin dismissed the visions angrily - even if Granger had been born a pureblood, events almost certainly wouldn't have turned out the same, he wouldn't have the curse and the delicious power that he had over her. He wasn't prepared to give that up.
Still, with the realities that Antonin expected with the Dark Lord's rise it was a pity that Granger's future looked so bleak. But surely the greater waste would be for her to die under his master's reign? Perhaps Antonin could keep her. Surely his loyalty would grant him a little favour with the Dark Lord? After all, there was no reason to kill her - her or any of the mudbloods. Antonin wasn't an advocate of the mass murder of mudbloods. He couldn't see the point. They just had to know their place as lesser magical beings and be put to use serving their betters in whatever way was best suited.
Of course, his zhar-ptitsa wasn't an ordinary mudblood in more ways than one. Her association with Potter and the Order was problematic. Potter would have to die (which Antonin was only too happy about) as well as most of his allies in order to crush any chance of rebellion. Antonin would just have to convince the Dark Lord that it was worth keeping Granger alive. By then, he liked to think that she would be utterly dependent and fixed on the power of his touch, but her intelligence could actually be an advantage. If he could persuade her to use her brains to assist their new world in some way, the Dark Lord could be more willing to let Antonin have her.
That prospect chased his previous rueful feeling away at once, his body instead becoming flushed with both a sense of excitement and an aching longing.
He could feel Granger's keen gaze on him as he stared at her arithmancy chart. Engaging in these academic discussions had primarily been a way to get her more comfortable around him, to erode away her wariness, but maybe they could have an additional use. Perhaps Antonin could steer their sessions towards areas that discreetly built up the knowledge and skills Granger might need to live beyond the Dark Lord's victory. There was much he could teach her, dripping it in slowly so that she wouldn't notice the darker implications of what she was learning about. She was so starved for academic attention. It would be easy as fuck.
"I'm impressed," he told her sincerely, and she tried to hide a smile. "You must be absolutely flying through your Arithmancy lessons."
She gave another little shrug. "I wouldn't say 'flying' but I'm pleased with my progress through the NEWT course so far, and last week Professor Vector did mention an advanced project she might sign me up for - it comes with its own certificate of merit upon completion. I was worried that I would have to turn her down because I have so little time, especially with the exams not far away, but she said that it's a summer programme to be completed over the holidays."
Antonin was listening but he was also somewhat distracted by a bead of sweat that had formed by her hairline and was starting to trickle down the side of her face. "Perhaps I could help you," he rasped, his mouth suddenly dry as he fought the urge to brush the bead away with his thumb or lick it clean off her cheek.
"You can't help me, Antonin - that would be cheating!" she said, looking almost scandalised.
Antonin refrained from rolling his eyes at her fucking Gryffindor morals. "Of course I wouldn't help you complete the actual work itself but you could use me as a sounding board to discuss your ideas. There's nothing wrong with that, surely?"
She pouted her lips slightly as she considered it, which was also very distracting. What he wouldn't give…
"I suppose not," she agreed, pushing her hair away from her heated face again. Her hands remained amongst the tresses for a few moments, sweeping and scooping them up until she had her hair clipped up. The action was undoubtedly done in an attempt to help keep her cool but Antonin had never seen Granger with her hair tied away before and he enjoyed the view it gave him of her slender neck. She must be really burning up.
However, instead of bringing their discussion to a close so that she could get some relief, she tugged another sheet of blank parchment from the pile on his desk and started drawing out some runes. "Anyway, I've been meaning to ask you about these," she said as she concentrated on the parchment.
"Milaya, I can see that you're struggling," he told her huskily. "Take a break - we can come back to the runes later if you want."
The quill faltered at the suggestion, leaving tiny spots of ink on the parchment. She glanced over to Antonin and her eyes (pupils dilated) ran over his face and dropped to his hands. She swallowed thickly. "N-no. I- I can wait a bit, this shouldn't take long."
Antonin didn't want to wait. He wanted to feel her now, revel in her every gasp, sigh and moan, share in the power and magic that only existed between them. He'd been so fucking patient. It was time to give her a little push and see if she gave way an inch.
"Maybe you don't have to wait," he murmured and cautiously moved his right hand towards her free left one alongside him. "Maybe you can have both." He watched for any sign that she wanted him to stop but she only gazed back, her lips pressed together and breathing shallow.
He hooked his little finger around hers.
She let out a little gasp and her eyelids momentarily fluttered at whatever sensation he was creating within her.
"Is that too much, milaya?" he asked.
She made a strangled noise in her throat and he resisted the urge to smirk, knowing that she would be struggling not to request much more from him.
"N-no," she said hoarsely. "It's, it's OK."
"You wanted to talk about the runes?" he prompted after a few moments of silence.
Her hand shifted so that a little more of his skin was touching hers. "Yes." She paused so that she could swallow. "I was…" Her hand pressed in closer to his a bit more. "I was curious about the significance of these sets of runes. I've never seen them linked before and nor can I see any reason why somebody would do so, but they're repeated often in your second notebook." Her shoulders slumped a little as though it had cost her a lot to get those sentences out in a coherent fashion.
Antonin bent forward to get a closer look at the runes but was careful to make sure that he wasn't increasing their contact - it was important that any further closeness only came from Granger. "You've truly never seen that rune combination?"
A look of frustration crossed her face which he suspected was only partly due to his question. "No," she said a little curtly, the line of her arm momentarily lining up against his own, but the fabric of his robe prevented her from getting any great relief from him.
He chuckled. "Well, I guess I shouldn't be too surprised. I told you that Hogwarts doesn't like to encourage spell invention in their pupils."
Her brows lowered in confusion. "But how do they link to spell creation? I don't understand."
Antonin very much enjoyed the next few minutes as he shared some of his knowledge on the use of runes in (dark) spell creation with an eager pupil, and also felt Granger gradually increasing the contact minute by minute. When he'd moved his hand away from her so that he could use the quill to draw some additional runes, her fingers had gripped the edge of the table tightly, the whites of her knuckles showing up starkly. He'd casually moved his hand back towards hers when he was finished and her fingers quickly surged through his, gripping him tightly. He fought very hard not to make a comment or react in any way in case it provoked her into backing off or bringing up her shields. Instead, he acted like this was completely natural - that he and Granger often casually held hands. They had once. Right back at the start of the school year when she'd come early for a visit and his touch had unsettled her more than usual. They'd each had a book and sat on his bed with their hands joined until enough time had passed for her to get the curse relieved. It felt very different this time. In September it had been a fluke, a last resort so that she could get her visit over with. It had taken months of slow progress to get to this point now. And while it still didn't feel quite natural (Antonin hadn't been in the habit of holding women's hands even predating his sentencing in Azkaban), the casual intimacy boded well for the future, as did the fact that Granger was still able to converse with him about the runes while maintaining the touch. The more comfortable she became with touching Antonin without her mental defences in place the better.
"I have a couple of books about how runes can be used in this way," he told her as she stared at their combined notes on the parchment. "They might do a better job explaining it than I did."
"No, you explained it well. I understand it," she told him, not lifting her gaze.
"Well, your frown suggests differently, milaya," he said and pointed to her mouth with his free hand, his finger barely an inch from her lips.
She started. "Oh." Her tongue quickly traced over her lips and he felt a pulse of desire low in his belly. "No, it's not that. I do understand what you said. It's just…" she trailed off.
"You want to know more?" Antonin guessed.
Her exposed neck flushed an even darker pink and she nodded. "Yes," she admitted softly.
"Is that a bad thing?" he posed, a little bemused by her reaction.
"This knowledge is restricted," she reminded him.
"Only to discourage spell creation. You have no interest in that art, do you?"
"Not really," she said. "I only want the knowledge, not to try it for myself."
"Exactly. There's no reason to feel guilty about reading them," he told her. "Besides, given your age, ability and character, your professors would more than likely give you permission to take them from the Restricted Section if you asked."
She gave a soft laugh and there was a fleeting increase of pressure from her hand. "Probably," she admitted.
"And if you do find yourself wanting to use them for practical purposes, you should know that I had access to them when I was younger than you and I never had any mishaps using them."
"You did? How did you get copies?"
"My parents bought them for me. I got this one on my fourteenth birthday," he said, tapping the arithmancy book that still lay open in front of them. Then he jabbed his thumb over his shoulder at the pile of books beside his bed. "The rune ones came a few months later."
"You were interested in spell creation from even that age?"
He nodded. "Obsessed. Until I was of age there wasn't much I could really do about it outside of Hogwarts so my parents got me the books to keep me out of trouble if anything. Look - "
With his free hand, he pushed the arithmancy pages back until they could see the inside of the front cover. The ink had faded a little over time but the words were still clear enough to read: Happy Birthday, my dear son. I know your talents and dedication will lead you to great things. If you apply the knowledge within, it will help to safely guide you on that journey and enable you to explore new possibilities when you are ready. The future is yours, Antonin. Make us proud. Your loving father.
The message wasn't quite what he remembered.
Admittedly, he'd only read it on his birthday all those years ago, but he could remember rolling his eyes at what he'd thought were his father's over the top words of caution in regards to chancing his arm at creating spells. Since he'd shown an interest in the art, his parents had constantly warned him about the dangers and various ways experimental magic could go wrong, so he'd only seen the written message as an extension of that.
Reading those words again after all this time, after everything that had happened since…
His chest felt strangely hollow.
There was another small squeeze of warmth into his hand and he glanced over at Granger. He'd almost forgotten that she was there. Everything about her seemed soft in that moment - her eyes, her expression, her touch, her demeanour. Would he have still shown her the message if he'd correctly remembered its content? It didn't feel like she was pitying him but he did feel somewhat exposed and vulnerable. Of course, he was supposed to be drawing her in but this was not his preferred method of doing so.
"Safely guide you… until you're ready," she murmured. Her tone was soft too. She looked up at him and gave him an equally soft smile. "I see what you mean. Was your father worried you were going to make something explode?"
"Something like that," Antonin muttered. "There had been a couple of incidents at school that year when I started experimenting and things didn't go as planned."
"Ah," she said, her lips pulling up into another small smile. "Your father was still encouraging though."
"Yes." Antonin shut the book with a faint snap, not wanting to be able to see the haunting words anymore but they chased him anyway. The future is yours, Antonin… "You can take it with you when you go," he said, pushing it towards Granger.
"Oh, are you sure?"
He shrugged. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"It's a personal gift," she pointed out. Fucking sentimental Gryffindor.
"It's just a book, milaya," he replied bluntly. Her lips pursed, as though there was no such thing as 'just a book' and he let out a little snort. "Even if I particularly cared about its fate, I know you're not going to lose it or damage it, are you?"
"Of course not!" She looked faintly insulted at the possibility, then she sighed and placed her hand on the tome. "Alright. Thank you."
"You can borrow the ones about runes after that. Satisfy that curiosity of yours."
She gave him a half smile. "Thanks."
There was a pause. Antonin was about to suggest that they move on to giving her proper relief (this hand holding, as significant as it was, wasn't satisfying for either of them) but she opened her mouth, hesitated a moment, then said, "I am sorry about what happened to your parents."
His mood had risen at the prospect of getting to touch her properly but at her words it plummeted again. "You said that before," he told her, careful to keep emotion out of his voice. "And I alreadytold you that they wouldn't want your pity and neither do I."
"I know that," she said evenly but the compassion was still bleeding out of her damned sympathetic expression.
"You believe me, then - about what happened?" he questioned in a diversionary attempt to get her to stop. It worked. Her features hardened and her grip on his hand tightened, though he suspected the latter was unintentional.
She nodded stiffly. "I do," she admitted quietly. "I wish it wasn't true but…" She cast her eyes away. "… someone confirmed it."
Now that was interesting. He would've expected any Order members to vehemently deny it. There couldn't have even been many within the Order who actually knew about the Prewetts' real intentions and yet this person had discussed the truth with Granger. That could have backfired if she'd taken the news badly. Surely it was risky to share the Order's dark inner secrets with anyone, let alone someone so young and noble-minded. Who could it have been?
"Do you miss them?"
The question caught him off guard. "I - " She was looking at him earnestly but it only aggravated him. "What do you care? Why the fuck are we even talking about this?" He stood up, leaving her hand behind. "They're dead and I'm fucking stuck here. That's all there is to it."
Granger also rose and politely tucked her chair under the table. "When you've experienced trauma, it can be healing to open up -"
"I don't need healing," he snapped. "There's nothing wrong with me."
"Antonin." Fuck. He swallowed, unwittingly unsettled. Why did he insist on her calling him that? "You've been exposed to and part of a violent and hate-filled organisation since the age of fifteen, you've killed people, seen your parents' murdered bodies and spent well over a decade incarcerated in close proximity to Dementors. Nobody would be able to endure those distressing events unscathed."
"Fuck you." If that was what it would take to get closer to Granger then she could bloody well forget it.
She sighed. "I'm not trying to attack you. I'm trying to help."
"Why? I don't want your help."
"I know it's scary -"
"I'm not fucking scared," he scoffed.
"- and you're unhappy -" she continued calmly, taking a step closer.
"You're the one making me unhappy right now!" he told her angrily, leaning confrontationally towards her face instead of taking the tempting defensive step backwards.
She held her ground. "- but working through the events of your past could bring you some peace."
"Peace?!" He laughed derisively. "We're in a war, zhar-ptitsa!"
Her gaze was unwavering. "You're not." The blunt words landed like a physical blow. "As you said, you're stuck here. The true battle you face is on the inside."
"You're full of shit," he sneered at her, resorting back to Russian in his anger. "Coming in here, telling me I'm fucked up in the head but everything will be better if I just talk about my fucking feelings. Well, I don't have anything to say - I'm not plagued by inner demons, unprocessed trauma or existential questions."
Liar, a voice said in his head, accompanied by recollections of all the different intrusive thoughts about his past and his very identity that had plagued him over the last few months. And it was clear from the look on Granger's face that she didn't believe him either. He stifled his panic and focused on his anger.
It was all her fault. He wanted to rage at her, to lash out at her in the way that it felt like she was attacking him. But what could he do or say that wouldn't ruin everything he'd been working so fucking hard for?
Even as he struggled to find the answer, Granger raised a supposedly comforting hand to his arm. "I know you're not ready yet. But if you ever feel that the time is right -"
He pushed her hand away. Condescending, sanctimonious chit! "Stop," he growled, trying to make himself appear as menacing as possible without overstepping. She was pushing him right to the limit of what he could stand. Something had to give before he truly snapped. He was done with tiptoeing around for her consent right now. "No more talk, zhar-ptitsa." His thumb then pressed over her lips, keeping them closed, while the rest of his fingers splayed down to her neck.
Her eyes widened and she took a sharp intake of breath. Antonin expected her to push back at him in some way, like she always did, but after a couple of seconds during which she just blinked at him, she gave a small nod. Despite his surprise, Antonin swiftly moved his other hand up to caress and tease around her neck while his thumb stayed on her lips. He was trying to take full advantage of her lack of defences before she could bring up her mental barriers. If she wanted to protect herself from the power of his touch, then she was going to have to fucking fight for it this time.
His movements were firmer than usual, fuelled by the anger and frustration she'd provoked in him. When his fingers dug down into the tension at the base of her neck, she stumbled and had to grab on to his shoulders to steady herself, her face twisting away so that she could gasp without the restriction of his thumb. He continued to press and squeeze, making her whimper and dig her nails into his robes. He tugged off her tie and greedily undid the top couple of buttons of her shirt to give him better access.
"A-An-Antonin."
As glorious as his name sounded coming out of her panting mouth, he ignored her. She probably wanted him to back off, to give her time to clear her head, but he wasn't going to let her withdraw so easily. He ducked his head, feeling her gasp underneath him in anticipation, then he licked, nipped and sucked at the juncture of her neck. Her fingers buried themselves in his hair and he braced himself to be wrenched away from her. Instead, she moaned and held him tightly to her. Thrilled, he continued, making a slow path to the base of her throat. His anger was abating, replaced by a fiery desire and euphoria at his good fortune. He placed a kiss at the hollow of her throat and slid his hands underneath the back of her shirt to keep her steady. She let out a cry at the joint sensations, which Antonin relished along with the expanse of smooth skin his fingers were eagerly exploring.
While he used his mouth as effectively as he could up the other side of her throat, he debated whether he could risk touching her scar. She'd made it clear many months ago that she didn't want him to touch her there but he was so close… Should he be satisfied with the new boundaries he'd already crossed or push for more and risk a greater fallout?
Even though his pulsing desires were threatening to take him over completely, he had just enough sense to tell himself to wait. His patience had gotten him this far. Greater things were to come if he played this with his brain in control rather tha his cock. Reluctantly, he let his hands wander only to the curve of her ribs and no further.
Instead, he focused on his work at her neck and shoulders. As much as he longed to mark and claim her as he had before, he couldn't do so in a place that might be seen when she left here. The last thing he wanted was outside interference from the aurors, Order or Hogwarts staff in his relationship with Granger. He was careful to make sure that anywhere he nipped or sucked would be comfortably covered by her collar. Luxuriously, he swirled his tongue over her pulse point and grazed his stubble along her jaw. The heavenly melody of whines, whimpers and moans emanating from her crescendoed to a surprised trill as he tugged her earlobe between his teeth, his panting breath hot against her neck.
Antonin slightly increased the pressure at her back while he traced patterns over her skin, hoping to urge her lower body close to his own as he sought friction against his rigid and straining cock. She shuffled forwards slightly but not enough to close the gap between them, much to his frustration.
There was much that he wanted to say to her in this moment about how beautiful she looked, felt, sounded and tasted, the effect she had on him, what he wanted to do to her - but he was concerned that the sound of his voice might break her out of her haze.
He kissed along her jaw, his lips soft and fleeting as he held his breath in anticipation, getting closer and closer to her mouth.
Fuck, could this really be happening?
The corner of his mouth met the edge of her lips. He paused there, letting the moment linger, rubbing reassuring circles into her back. This was it.
"No."
The choking noise from her throat was barely discernible as a word, but her head turned away from his and her trembling fingers pushed at his scalp. A torrent of frustration and disappointment rose up within him and he struggled to keep it contained. Now that she had finally shown some resistance, he had to play this carefully to keep her onside. The decisions he made here could have a huge effect on how she reflected on their session, and how she responded to him on future visits.
"OK, milaya." His voice was hoarse (understandably) but he hoped it sounded calm too. He kept one hand to her back but moved the other to stroke softly down the rear of her neck. "It's OK." Antonin kissed just above her brow and then rested his chin atop her head.
Her unsteady breaths were hot against the base of his throat but she made no move to get further away from him. Unable to see her face, Antonin had no idea whether she was trying to distance herself and erect her mental shields, but after a couple minutes she seemed much calmer.
Antonin's own thoughts remained somewhat hectic, his desire still singing in his blood even though he knew he wouldn't receive anything more to satisfy him now. It felt… strange to be holding her in this way. He was used to watching her but right now he couldn't see any more than a few stray strands of hair. Obviously he'd one hundred percent prefer to be continuing on from where she'd stopped him but they'd barely ever been touching this closely before, and he took it as a positive sign that she seemed to feel comfortable.
He'd been so close, so fucking close.
A/N Yep, we were so close!
Hope you guys enjoyed this one. This chapter was fun to write - lots of little interesting moments and insights.
