blind - owen teague | ✔️

9. History

I'm pretty sure I wasn't breathing.

His hand was making my heart flutter, convulse, stutter. Every fibre of my being was centered on one thing, the feel of his skin. My hand was outstretched in darkness and it was finding its purchase with something I craved.

In a snap, all my defenses from the past day of torture were gone. God, he flipped control out of my hands as if it was nothing. There was too much emotion between us, or too much emotion in me. I couldn't tell if he reacted the same.

It was like he felt nothing, but I felt it all. That was the problem. He was cool to the point of feeling nothing, and I felt everything.

He could say something and not realize the impact on me.

"Didn't think you'd notice."

The back of my finger traced over his cheek, feeling a slight dip, before my finger curled over his slightly rough one, so now only my knuckle traced it. I could feel his finger tug beneath the pressure and I couldn't help but smile.

I felt a rise. I was touching all the hills and valleys of his face and my blood was running excitedly. I had been deprived of touch, not realizing the depth of the depravity of it.

I felt his lips move under my knuckle. He was smiling as he drug my knuckle along his slightly chapped lips, and I didn't want to break this precious silence. His smile made me smile, the corners of my lips curling softly.

Pure happiness rushed through my chest. I never thought I'd feel the insane high, in the bleak blackness. My breathing was probably labored but I couldn't concentrate. My mind was haywire. I was floating, I was rising, my body more alight than my mind was. My mind couldn't process all the feelings.

Back, and forth, and back again. This rhythm was soothing and making me want to crave more at the same time. I was insatiable. How had he not seen my heart rate?

I could almost whimper, I wanted to touch him more. I needed to know. I needed to. This was a luxury and a necessity.

"The curves of your lips could rewrite history."

Oh my. My heart slammed against his chest as his lips spoke against my little finger. His warm breath fanned my skin, praising it. My chest tightened. He spoke that to me. He meant it.

Owen.

Owen.

Owen.

That's all I could focus on, my heart screamed and I knew this magnetic pull was too strong to divert.

"That was the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me." I confessed in a meek tone. When had I become so needy?

"Well, I'm honored to be the first." His chuckle came warm against my finger. His lips were on my skin. I wanted to see him, I wanted to feel him, but I didn't know how to ask him.

My senses were in overdrive. He was completely unaware of what he was doing to me. I could have begged for him to do this. My body was completely feeding from this miniscule, barely there touch.

Finally, he moved my knuckle. My heart screamed at the new territory. The very centre of my heart was now his. He had my heart chained to him without even realizing it. Everything he was doing was so unconsciously done.

This was torture but heaven. The slow movements, that was the torture, but the new touch, these new revelations of him were the heaven. I was slowly gaining a bit by bit pieces of him to form some kind of picture.

I wanted to break these chains that bound me, this blindness, this insatiable monster of what was holding me. The same monster was telling my body to feed into what I wanted; more touching.

I felt the rise up his nose, and the creases of his forehead and I gasped softly as I felt the contact with soft hair; soft, silky hair.

My IV line sagged and rose on my arm from how my hand moved, the tube rubbing on my skin. It was soft and cool.

"I have no idea what this feels like to you, but that reaction really got me."

His voice was barely a murmur. Oh, Owen, I don't know how to explain this. I couldn't tell you what I was feeling. It was a relief and it was strong, rolling over my body and squeezing me in a soft aura.

He was being my eyes for me; before I knew it, my hand pulled from his to travel into the silky strands, reminding me of rose petals, soft.

His head moved and soon, I felt something press on both sides of me. His hands. My other hand rose and I couldn't help but delve my hands into his hair.

"Hair color?" My voice was a breath. A rasp. What this man was doing to me?

"Currently black. Natural, brown."

I don't know where this confidence came from, this pure need for exploration. I could feel that his hair was longer than what a socially normal boy's hair would be, but I also knew I liked it. I liked how my fingers slid through it, like black silk, like... Pouring a pot of hot black coffee. That's how my mind pictured it.

"Can you lay with me?" I asked. My voice was a coffee filter, light.

Slowly, my fingers left his hair, and I felt weight dispense on me, trepidly, pure resting, in fear of hurting me, probably. I let my fingertips travel over what I thought were his shoulders, up until I found his hair again and my fingers slid through it.

"Your heart is racing." His head was on my chest and I nearly catapulted into heaven then. So this was what it felt like to be cuddled, or to be so intimate with someone. I was calm, but I wasn't. My body wasn't. I loved this. He was feeding my need. He was like a cigarette to a nicotine addiction.

"It's you."

"I'm glad I do this to you."

"Me too." My voice was barely there. It was so soft. It was just so fragile and I realized this was like water to a dehydrated person, so much relief, like a splash of cool water.

It was so perfectly, incandescently content. We didn't need to talk anymore. My fingers were laced in his silky hair, and I was just relaxed. I hadn't really felt this way since before my accident. I liked it.

My heart rate may have been fast, but I was anything but exerted. It was quite the opposite. I was quite at my leisure. I never wanted that to end.

But, speak of the devil.

The click was louder. Whoever was coming in, came in fast.

"Can I have a word with my patient?"

Anisa. Her tone was chilling. It wasn't the warm motherly tone I was used to.

Shit.

-

To: FandomLover280 apocvlyptic wolfhardsbbg & --lilexist-- for your support!