Miss Me? - A Continuation of "Tell Me, Love" (Darkiplier X Reader)

Remember

You open your eyes into the dim light of your living room. It's after dark. You're disoriented. A rush of panic sets in. "One heck of a dizzy spell" you think and decide maybe it's a good idea to call and get checked out in the morning. Usually in near perfect health, all-day naps are not particularly the norm for you. In fact, anything past about 6 hours a night isn't the norm for you, now that you think about it.
Aside from the obvious though you feel fine. No headache. No dizziness. So you shake the worry away for now and try to decide what to do with the rest of your evening. No use worrying until you can be seen and you're INCREDIBLY well rested, after all. "Long night ahead" you think and flip on the TV,  settling into an episode of your favorite reality show; thankful that you're the master of your work schedule. After a while you reach for your phone letting the TV become background noise as you scroll. Nothing too interesting on social media tonight. All the usual stuff: relationships, babies, text posts, videos. "That's really all that's ever on social media" you think, but nevertheless you let your mind go numb for a moment and continue to scroll.

You're snapped back with a start as your TV blacks out for just a second. You just catch it out of your peripheral vision, unsure if it actually happened or if it was your imagination. You sit up, leaning on your hands, and put your phone down. You watch closely trying to catch it again and you do except this time static crackles across the screen and he edges of the picture go blue and red like a pair of 3D glasses. You look at the TV with frightened disgust. You've never been able to just rationalize that sometimes electronics just do this kind of thing. You've seen too many movies where exactly the opposite is true. "Movies is the operative word" you think, but you still don't like the look of the screen. You grab the remote to change the channel with no luck and decide to just turn everything off. No TV, no creepy TV glitches.
You pick your phone back up out of the nest of throw blankets at your side and continue scrolling where you left off, trying to distract yourself, but the thought lingers in your mind. "If I didn't live alone, this probably wouldn't even happen" you ponder with heavy sarcasm.
Soon, you've almost forgotten the weirdness all together, though you text a friend to theorize and laugh over the "almost assured hauntedness" of your tiny two-bedroom. You smile at the exchange and shake it off. Then, without warning, the power goes out with an audible surge. You freeze, pinned to your seat with fear. "This again?!" you think, having just forgotten about the TV. You know you're being silly- getting worked up over nothing- but come on! You listen closely and hear faint sounds of wind and rain against your windows. It must've just started or maybe you simply hadn't noticed with everything else going on. "Probably just a storm coming" you decide and with great courage and determination, you get up, stumble to the entryway closet, and find some candles, using your phone's flashlight as a guide. You've always been more of a candle-over-flashlight kind of girl when in comes to these sort of things.
You just make it to the closet, first candle in hand, as the lights snap back on with a buzz. A wave of relief washes over you. "What a weird day" you think, exasperated at the chain of events. You turn from the closet shutting the door behind you and look down at your phone once more to turn off the flashlight. You look up and practically jump out of your skin, your phone falling to the floor and clattering beside your bare feet. It's him- standing just a few feet away. Your body tightens as his dark form casts a shadow against you in the dim light and you realize that you hadn't remembered him at all until this moment, seeing him again. It's as if he had been wiped from your memory the second he left. You're speechless, afraid at first until he speaks.
"Hello, my love" he says, and your spine tingles. "Did I frighten you?" You nod, trying to find your voice.
"Yes", you say in a softer voice than you usually speak with. You clear your throat.
"Truly sorry, dear" he says "Sneaking around isn't very polite of me". You don't speak. He takes a step closer to you, out-stretching a hand to brush your hair behind your ear and lets his hand rest at the nape of your neck. You lean into his touch and close your eyes, taking a deep breath. He takes a breath with you, echoing your relief and smiles.
"Feeling better?" he asks. You nod as a familiar feeling washes over you and suddenly you feel at ease. You listen as the rain stops outside. He drops his hand, his fingertips brushing your arm, and takes your hand. "Come" he says, leading you back to the couch, still strewn with blankets. Your dainty hand feels even smaller in his as you trail behind him. He sits you down and takes a seat beside you. He seems oddly relaxed- at home even- on your recycled dorm room couch, though he never reclines, retaining his posture. You stare at him, waiting, and speak once more.
"Why have you come?" you ask, realizing how bold you suddenly sound. He seems to notice too and raises an eyebrow in your direction. You look away feeling small again, but he smiles.
"You intrigue me" he says, matter-of-factly. You furrow your brow. "A lot of things are intriguing, but they don't call for a house call" you think, your sass slipping through. And it's not that you don't want him there, it's just- you're train of thought is interrupted. He smiles again, looking at his feet. Had he heard you? You remember the previous night. He had heard you then too, answering a question you were to meek to ask. You blush at the memory.
"Nothing to be ashamed of, love" he says, his eyes piercing your rosy cheeks. You blush deeper. You clear your throat again and find the courage to meet his gaze.
"I-I don't entirely u-understand" you say, tripping over your words. He takes a breath and stands.
"You are the most interesting woman I've ever met" he says, pausing for a moment to gauge your reaction. You raise your eyebrows. He continues. 
"I don't fraternize often- ever, I suppose- with your kind". You're offended for a moment and it must show on your face or maybe he's just listening again. He quickly corrects himself.
"I mean PEOPLE" he says. You try to understand. You know he's not like you , that is, he's not exactly "people", but that hadn't occurred as strange to you until just now.
For the first time he seems less that perfectly composed, almost like he's struggling to find the right words. All he does is confuse you further. He sighs and takes a seat next to you once more.
You look him up and down. He's quiet for a moment. He seems frustrated.
"I'm not human" he says, finally, as if he could find no other way to say it; like he didn't have the energy to come up with another way to describe himself.
"I know" you reply and he sighs again, straightening his tie.
"Yes, of course" he says. "Perhaps I can go into further detail, one day". You nod in agreement. You've never seen him less that perfectly proper. It's kind of refreshing. He's quiet for another moment.
"I'd like to come back" he says finally, turning to look you in the eyes again. Your heart races under his gaze. "May I?" he asks. You raise your eyebrows in surprise. You can't believe he's asking permission- especially after last night. But OF COURSE you want him to come back. You don't know why, but you feel almost need him- this man you've just met. You dread his leaving again, whenever that may be. Will you forget him again? These thoughts plague your mind and you realize that you haven't actually replied yet. He looks at you, patient, letting you consider his offer, but you sense he's starting to get ansty. Again, you look up and meet his eyes.
"Yes" you answer, never so sure or nervous about anything in your life.
He breathes a sigh of relief. Had he been holding his breath?
"Good" he sighs. You smile, assuring him that all is well. Surely he knows that you've seen a side of him he doesn't show to most. He smirks back. "Now, come here" he commands and you obey, moving over to him on the couch. You get the sense that now that he's spoken his piece, your evening can continue as he planned. Your heart pounds in anticipation.
He's slow to touch you this time, mindful of the softness you now know he's capable of. He places a gentle hand against your jawline and brings his face to yours, closing his eyes. His lips touch yours and move against them softly, slowly. He's taking his time, his movements, intentional. He deepens the kiss and his tongue moves against your own. His free hand explores your body, trailing down your side, moving the fabric of your shirt aside at your waist to feel your bare skin on his. Your skin tingles under his touch and you take a shaky breath. With this he pushes against you, laying you back against the couch. He adjusts his weight to lie against you. The pressure of his body against yours awakens a familiar sensation deep within you. Flashes of the previous night dance in your mind and your skin grows hot. His hand moves delicately against  your fevered skin, producing goosebumps, as he pins your hip to the couch. He presses into you and you feel him hard against your thigh, the feeling sending a wave of heat to your core. You gasp against his lips and he lets out a soft groan, grinding against you once more. You've taken almost all you can handle, now. Your heart pounds in your chest and you reach down between you to unfasten his belt. He lifts off of you to give you more room. He looks down at your hands for a moment and then returns to your lips, pressing them rougher, now, to his own . You finish with his belt and slide his pants down past his hips. His girth springs free and your blood rushes, eyeing him. You ache once more and begin to fumble with your own clothes, pulling your sweats off and tossing them to the side. He returns to you but hesitates for just a moment at your entrance. You buck your hips, trying to push yourself into him and he gasps. Catching his breath, he speaks.
"Slowly" he whispers, his breath tickling your ear, then pushes into you. You moan his name, the feeling of him within you, intoxicating. He pushes his length deeper and deeper into you, as if he wants to be sure you feel every inch, every subtle sensation. He moans, finally completely inside, and rests there for a moment.
"I want you to remember this time" he breathes, pulling himself up so that his eyes meet yours. You bite your lip, brows furrowed almost in anguish. He pulls out ever so slightly and pushes back in, taking your breath away. You tense. "Would that be alright?" he continues. You nod and he pulls out once more, almost completely, then drives back into you, closing his eyes tight. You both let out a cry of ecstasy as he continues, picking up the pace a little. You tighten against him and he lowers himself back down burying his face into your collar bone.

* * *

The two of you make love until neither of you feel you can move. You wouldn't use that term normally, in fact, it makes you cringe, but what happened had been something more than just sex. Your head reels, wrapped in the warm embrace of this man you've grown so fond of, this man you only met yesterday- a fact that hardly seems real. He's fallen asleep behind you on the couch, his breath warm on the nape of your neck. You begin to doze off, despite having just woken up a couple of hours ago but in your stupor, you  hope with all your might that he will keep his promise; that he will come back; that you will remember.

You fall asleep there on your shallow couch, side by side, tangled in the blankets you had slept so soundly in this morning.