Melancholy

We say nothing—there's really nothing to say. I think he needs my comfort as much as I need his. Maddox and I have always had a strange, quiet connection. We fight a whole lot, but when it comes down to being there, we’ve always had each other’s backs. I nestle in closer, his heart steadily pounding against my ear.

“I’m scared, Maddox,” I finally whisper.

“Ain’t no fucker touchin’ you, do you hear me? Tomorrow you’ll move to the club; you’re safer there. Tonight, I’ve got a watch on the house.”

I nod, pulling back so I can nestle up into his neck. He makes a throaty sound, and his arms tighten around me. Desperate for comfort, I lift my lips and kiss his cheek. It’s innocent, it truly is, and yet it quickly changes. Like a flash, Maddox turns his head and his lips capture mine.

I’m frozen in shock for longer than a minute, our lips locked, our bodies still, the air around us crackling.

Then he moves, and he changes everything.

His lips don’t force, no, they coax mine apart in a gentle caress that has all the breath leaving my body. His mouth is rough, yet soft, a perfect combination of dark and light. His tongue slips in and fireworks explode in my body, from my head to my feet.

And I finally understand his words.

When you get kissed for real, in the way that involves passion, you feel it right to your toes. My sex clenches, and a moan is wrenched from my lips as his mouth continues it’s slow, agonizing torture, exploring me until my fingers are clawing at his naked back.

He pulls away on a pant, and in the darkness I can hear nothing but our breathing.

“That,” he growls, his voice low and husky, “is how it should feel when a man kisses you.”

I have nothing to say. He just blew my mind with one simple connection of our lips. Maddox and I have always had some sort of sexual attraction, but for me he’s always driven me too crazy to ever act on it. I thought I could get through my life and never need him the way I need him right now.

“Stay with me,” I whisper. “Please, Maddox.”

“Wasn’t goin’ to go anywhere, babe. Go to sleep before I change my mind and kiss you again.”

He curls his arms around me once more and we fall into a relaxed position that feels just too perfect. I close my eyes, trying to push that kiss from my mind but failing miserably. Eventually, though, exhaustion takes over, and I slip off into oblivion.

CHAPTER NINE

2014 – Santana

I wake from a nightmare I can’t remember; sweating and grabbing anything I can curl my fingers around. That happens to be Maddox. His hands go over the top of mine, prying my fingers from his arms. Shit, I didn’t realize I had latched onto him so hard. I pull back suddenly, nearly falling from the bed. It’s only his hand shooting out and catching me that prevents that.

“You’re okay,” he murmurs. “I got you.”

I don’t say anything as he rolls me back towards him. My face presses against his chest, and I take a moment to breathe him in. God, his skin is hot, so hot. My heart begins to slow and I part my lips, pressing my open mouth to his hot flesh. My mind spins as my tongue slides out and across his hard, muscled chest.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Santana, stop lickin’ me.”

I stop what I’m doing, but not before I feel the little bumps break out across his flesh from my tongue. I just need to feel okay. I know I’ll wake in the morning, and I’ll regret this, but lying next to him like this . . . it feels so good.

“Santana, honey,” he rasps. “You either stop, or I’ll flip you over and fuck you so hard you’ll never forget me.”

I flush and swallow, moving my mouth from his flesh. Maddox doesn’t know I’m a virgin—no one does. It’s something I hold close, not ashamed for a second that I haven’t given it away, even though I’m twenty-one now.

“Sorry,” I whisper. “I just . . .”

“I know,” he rasps, rolling and using my hips to pin me to the bed.

I’m half on my side, half on my back. His body presses against mine every inch of him. Every. Inch. It’s when his . . . cock . . . presses against me that I realize the position we’re in. I’m reminded of Alec, and my heart begins to pound. I stiffen.

“Don’t,” Maddox warns. “Push me away. Tell me that Pretty Boy is what you want. But don’t, I swear to fucking God, don’t tell me that you regret my mouth on yours, Santana.”

My heart pounds. He knows me so well.

“I’d never regret you, Maddox,” I whisper. “No matter how angry you make me, I’d never . . . not for a second . . . regret you.”

“Then go back to sleep and let me lay here, feelin’ somethin’ I’ve been waitin’ so fuckin’ long to feel.”

So long? He’s waited to feel me like this? I try to push that from my mind as he moves me over him, resting my cheek against his chest. I try not to think about his words, but I know, I just know they’re going to consume me.

~*~*~*~

When I wake in the morning, I’m alone.

I slide out of bed, my face burning. I haven’t got any cuts big enough for stitches, thank God, but there are a few achy gashes on my cheeks and forehead that hurt when I move my jaw. I also have a few on my arms. I pull on a pair of shorts and walk out of the room, towards the stairs.

I hear voices as I near and I stop, listening.

It’s Mack and Maddox. I shouldn’t be listening in, but I can’t help it. They’re talking about last night, and I’m curious to know what went down. I press myself against the wall and tilt my head to the side so I can hear them more clearly.