Black Velvet (58) (Patreon)

(Warnings for: strong sexuality)

—

Tobias is silent, quiet enough for me to look up when his grip tightens on mine. His fingers loop through my own in an embrace, one that sends butterflies spilling through my stomach.

The gentle set of his jaw and the uncertain vulnerability of his gaze is raw, and it's an expression that's entirely new to me.

I blink, floored by a simple exchange.

"I don't,"  Tobias starts, and the words shake from his throat like he's not sure what he's saying or who he's looking at.  "I don't see it."

He says this, but I know he does.

"You do too; it's right here," I trace each segment of skin until his eyes track the movement.  His regard hardens like a reflex, and I watch the back of his knuckles from his free hand bump under his chin, move down to splay over the buckle of my seatbelt as he unlatches it,

"Oliver,"  Tobias' fists clench a little; he shakes his head the slightest bit, "how are you so..."

His sentence trails but the implications of where it might end has my heart jumping.  It flutters more when he leans in slowly. My eyes are on his, the darkness of them, and the heavy hood of his lashes.  His irises are so dark from the pitch of night that I can't make out any color but black.

"Are you scared?" Tobias asks, his thumb against the pulse of my neck. I'm sure he can feel the way it beats unsteadily beneath his fingers,

"Why would I be scared?"

"Of waiting too long for me to sort things out," He whispers, "of getting hurt."

"By you?" I shake my head, padding two fingers against the back of his neck like I'm mirroring his touch.  He's leaned too close to me to see him, now, and my heart is unsteady. Tobias shifts again, and his lips brush my jaw. I inhale, "I don't think you'll hurt me."

"I'm not sure," He hesitates, "what if that's what comes of all of this?"

I swallow, my touch retreating.  I push away from Tobias, gently, enough distance placed between us to have my back against the door,

"Um. If you feel — Like.  If you're not sure," I swallow again, flustering before picking at my shirt. "It's okay."

"Oliver."

There's an unpleasant feeling of rejection bubbling when Tobias grimaces,

"Tobias, don't make that face."  I try for a smile.  "It's okay. You... Don't owe me anything?  You know.  We can just," I let go of his hand. I point towards the window. "Let's just watch the moon.  It's a good start."

"Oliver," Tobias closes his eyes for a brief moment, breathes out through his nose, and his gaze travels to the floorboard, "that's not what I meant."

"These are — um," I smile. My gaze is averted, "I can't tell if we're on the same page. If you want me to wait for you — I mean. I know you're not the type to ask, but if you just don't think that this is a good idea," I flounder quietly. "I don't know if you want me the same way. But it's okay if you don't.  Really."

Tobias cuts me off, presses his palm to my shoulder.

"I want you to wait for me." The words twist my stomach into a knot. He leans enough to tug the seatbelt strap away from my lap, to slip it into my hair, his fingers curling in the strands near my ear, near my forehead.  "With me.  I want you now.  To be with you.  I just don't want to fuck anything up.  I really — I don't want to hurt you."

He pushes the short curls away, uses the lower part of my waist to pull me closer, and kisses my forehead.  I blush.  I don't know why. Something so small is so reassuring.

"... But I want you, the same way you want me.  I'm sure of that, above everything else." Tobias is honest, and that honesty in his words always strikes me. I'm distracted by it, distracted enough to laugh a bit.

"Oh."  I guess I'm too happy to hear him say it.  "Good then."  I smile brightly.  I feel oddly validated and suddenly very awake.

"What's that smile for?"  He whispers.

"You."  I look up to Tobias, whose brows gather for a moment before he swipes a hand into my sweater, curls his hand around the fabric there, and yanks me to him.

His kiss is rough and solid against my lips, and my stomach immediately jolts like we've taken a sudden hill at high speed,

"What are you," Tobias laughs a bit in return, against my lips, "What are you doing to me?" He asks, presses again, and demands attention. I exhale shakily.  I'm too surprised to be embarrassed by the way the noise sounds a lot like desire.  I press back, my jaw trembling when his tongue swipes against my lips.

I lift my hands to hold onto Tobias' shoulders, open my mouth just enough for him to slip past,

These feelings are returned,

I think, when his tongue slides against mine roughly, when his fist curls into my hair tighter, and he pulls me forward, hands slinking over my chest, down my sides, before they land underneath my thighs and squeeze.

Something about the realization of that fact makes everything feel different and feel like more.  I can feel his fingers curling around the sides of my waist like there isn't a barrier of clothes between us. I can feel goosebumps lighting on my skin where he flexes his fingers in restraint,

"You don't have to kiss me,"  I whisper between a deliberate silencing of his mouth, "we can slow down,"  but Tobias lifts me by the hands he's splayed out under my thighs and hoists me past the center console with more grace than any singular person should have.

"It's just a kiss,"  He whispers, his lashes sliding against my cheeks, breath ghosting over me, "this is slow." But he's pulling me into his lap, lips carrying a feverish intensity against my own.  I try to match it, dumbfounded by the way heat swells in my stomach at every maneuver of his tongue.

I nervously try to match it, but Tobias parts from me with a hint of a smirk.  His hand moves from my thigh to yank down my sweater collar, to nip the skin of my shoulder when my hips sink against his,

"Do you need to stop?" He asks as he tugs down the zipper of his thin jacket, shrugs it off, and throws it in the backseat of his perfectly spotless car.  His voice is so rough that my nerves light up again.

I shake my head.  I don't think I want to stop, but I can barely keep my eyes half-mast when his tongue trails my collarbone, when his fingers loop into my belt loops and drag my lower half down to meet his canting hips.

I inhale loudly, another muffled hum splitting the silence.   What follows is a broken groan — Tobias' broken groan, with his arms spun tightly around me.  My eyes close then, a rush of heat flooding my face.  I can feel the impression of arousal burning a line through where my thigh rests atop his.

It's not just a kiss, I think, it's not.

I push the blunt edge of my nails into his shoulders, picking up parts of the fabric of his t-shirt, head bent into the corner of his neck to quiet every sound that leaks from my mouth when he rolls upwards, when his hand splays against my lower back.

Tobias kisses the top of my head, suddenly grabs the side of the seat to separate our lower halves,

"Sorry," he whispers, drags a kiss against my neck, "I'm getting — I got carried away."

I nod along, half-aware of what he's even said, my face still buried in his neck.  My nerves are thrumming like white noise.

Tobias props open the door and tilts his head back against the seat, takes in a breath like he's calming himself, and brushes his palms over his face.

"I should've asked."  He says.  "I mean.  You won't see — the moon."

"I would've said yes."  I smile at him.  It's quiet, and he stares at me with a curious, indecipherable expression.

I climb off of him with unsteady legs, back up into the cold, the dark — the Honey Moon looking like a bright, deep yellow orb.  It's so close and so bright, reflecting off the stillness of Edmund's lake.

I hear the car door shut behind me.

"Look," I'm still trembling, don't know if it's from the sight or the man standing behind me, "we'll have to come back here.  I mean — for the next one.  Wouldn't that be cool?"  My vision still feels almost blurry with desire when I glance back at him.  I know I'm flushed and pink in the spots where our lips touched too roughly.

Tobias' regard rakes over my face, that curiousness still ever-present and impossible to understand,

"You said that the next one... Isn't for fifteen years."  He pauses, face set with something akin to confusion or surprise. The dark-eyed man reaches out to intertwines his fingers with mine.  I take them happily, the warmth of them comforting.

"Yeah," I nod, squeeze his hand, turn to watch him over my shoulder.  "Fifteen years."

—

⭐️ WARNING:  A/N: the next chapter (Chapter 59) is entirely smut.  You CAN skip Chapter 59.  The chapter starts with smut and ends with smut, 😂 there’s not any plot to miss at all.  I made the decision to split the chapters in this way so those of you who do not want to see NSFW parts of Black Velvet are exposed to the bare minimum because they can be graphic. ❤️ 

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