The Blind Artist (Frerard MCR Fanfic)

Chapter 17

*A/N: Happy Sunday! and in the spirit of Valentines Day yesterday here is the next chapter!

Chapter 17

I had been woken by him once again, screaming and crying as he begged for help, for it to stop; and it took my whole energy away from me trying to wake him. I wished I knew what was wrong, I wished I knew his past and what horrors came after him at night; I wanted him to trust me enough to know.

Because moments like this, where we are lay on his bed, me on top of the covers and him snuggled under them with his head perched on my chest where it had been since I shushed him awake and calmed him down.

“I’ve never had anyone else in my bed before.” He says softly as I stroke my hand in his hair. It’s so intimate, having his warm breath flutter against my skin, his eyelashes tickling and his cheek flush against the inked skin. It’s too intimate, I pull my hand away at what he says, I had overstepped so many boundaries already. “No. I like it.” he catches my hand and pulls it back into his hair, with a content sigh I hear him mumble into my stomach. “I like having you here.”

“I’m just your pillow, that’s why you like it.” I smirk but stop when I feel my stomach do that little flip, stop stupid body stop. Stop feeling these things for him or I’ll lose my job.

“How about in return I show you what’s in that room?” He says cunningly and adjusts so he is crossed legged next to me, he looks at me as if he is searching my face for some sort of sign of something, it’s like I can feel his gaze staring right through me.

“Which room?” My voice hitches, my eyebrows raise and I’m suddenly nervous, my hands twitch at my sides and I bite at my bottom lip.

“The one that your try to snoop in.” Now it’s his turn to smirk as my eyes go wide. The room. His mystery room.

I often wondered if it was one of those rooms that people spoke about in hushed voices and horrified humor of it all; the sex dungeons and playrooms. Or he was one of those hoarders, that stock everything in the one room because they somehow found sentiment in it.

“Don’t tell me it’s some kink room, or you have dead bodies stored in there…” I tease him to which I earn a slight scowl and a poke in the ribs. He’s adorable, the innocence in his face makes him look fresh and bright, no trace of wrinkle or worry just a young glow, as his newly short cut hair makes him look even more handsome and cherub-like. The look on his face makes me look at my fiddling hands that come together in my lap.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” he asks making my head snap up to look at him, my eyes wide.

“Yes.” I smile mirroring his own, he edges forward slightly but hesitates, he stops, sighs and I watch as he battles with himself,

“Will you still stay if I kiss you?” voice husky, low and dark, it’s light but filled with tension.

“Yes.” It comes out of my chest, like a moan, like a sigh. But it doesn’t matter because in that moment he is all that matters. I feel a ball of nerves well in my chest and throat as I get closer. And closer. But it doesn’t matter as I am met with the hot feverish passion of his lips on mine. Finally. A little voice in my head sings but I have the fear of loss and of love in the back of my mind, I feel like I can enjoy him now but soon I’ll wake up.

My hand in his hair, on his neck, around his shoulders, his waist, his chest; I explore him as he explores me. I feel my head spin, I feel my heart beat through my chest suddenly alive with adrenaline and fire, with hope of a new future and love. My mind was working over time, it was consumed by him and his pain doubling with my own pains and angst, it was winding me up inside twisting and turning; it felt like every vein in my body throbbed and every organ and tissue melted. He places soft kisses at the corner of my mouth and leaves a trail of kisses down my flushed cheek and jawbone. My head tilted back, giving him more access to my pale neck and throat. I’m sure he could feel the pulsing of blood in my jugular and kisses his way up and down it a few times, causing a slight shiver that I had been holding inside. I wish it was just us, us in our little world our ‘somewhere only we know’ no interruptions, deserted on our own island.

He moves closer, bringing our lips together, he moans quietly as I trace his lips with my tongue, it was familiar but every time I reattached my lips to his I found something new nestled into them, like a cut or chapped skin or an unknown sweet or rich taste left on them waiting to be licked off. Slowly, he parted his lips and granted my tongue entrance to his mouth. I slowly ran my tongue across his, tasting the inside of his mouth. He shivers as I run my hands over his ribs and down his back, gripping tightly. I pull him onto my lap as he wraps his arms around my neck, slowly moving his tongue with mine. I moan at the taste of him, a taste I had craved for so long.

I sigh against his lips as he pulls back ending our passion with a bite to his bottom lip, my nose nudges against his and I feel the small little lump at the end; not quite a mole but not a spot, I feel his laughter lines around his mouth, his prominent cheek bones. Everything I didn’t notice before, I notice now as I just take him in. 

“Finally.” He whispers, his face pulled in to the nape of my neck, his voice vibrating against my racing pulse and for the first time in a long time I feel content. Whole.