norkiewrites:
Everything’s on autopilot, fueled by pure instinct. If she spends even half a second to think, Dylan knows she’s wasting precious time. Ian is everywhere. An all-encompassing presence above her. She is safe with him, even as he lowers his lips to the pulse point at her neck. Fear doesn’t course through her — he could end her entire life if he so wished. Ian could run her dry. But this is Ian. This is a boy she’s known all her life. That fact doesn’t change just because he isn’t a witch anymore. Doesn’t change because his diet has shifted to solely that of blood.
Even without her wolf hearing she would have been able to register his words. Quick and quiet, they brought a smile to her lips non the less. Brevity be damned, her heart thudded thunderously against her chest in response. Yet before she can reply, before she can copy them, he’s pulling away and she’s left rested against the pillow, chest heaving in the moments where she can drag in breath.
There’s a moment where she stays silent, eyes studying every inch of his face. Half because seeing him like this is exhilarating and half because she wants to keep the tension. Maybe make him sweat a little. Then, “I think I’ve loved you my whole life,” she replies, hand lifting to rest against his cheek. She could crack a joke about this, sure. But there’s an insurmountable amount of admiration the young wolf feels for him — he doesn’t have to ask. She’s sure it’s almost glaringly obvious that she’s perfectly okay with what this was all leading towards. But it’s still nice of him to ask. To make sure.
She hums, as if she’s contemplating his question. Really contemplating, face scrunching up in thought before — a grin slips across her lips. Wide, eyes alight with humor and love and about twelve other emotions that make her heart swell. “I want this,” she tells him. “I want us.” Another pause, this time a far more serious one. Dylan lifts up, pressing her lips to his own. “I want you.”
I think I’ve loved you my whole life, she says, and he stops because his life has ended again. There are different timelines now, the time before, when his family was alive and the time before when he had magic, felt it flowing from every fiber of his being, the time before he knew Dylan had loved him for her whole life.
Some of the afters were horrific. He missed his magic, even if he wouldn’t admit it. If everything else hadn’t happened... Ian wouldn’t have wanted to be a vampire, wouldn’t have felt the sense of urgency, craved the sense of security that his fangs and speed and bloodlust provided. His ability to remain undead.
Some of the afters restarted his unbeating heart. For how could one not feel so deeply and immensely in this moment? “Me too,” he tells her. Ian doesn’t quite know how he’s speaking in this moment. Kissing and feeling things and knowing she wants this, wants him, is so vastly different from the actual words, closing the gap between knowing and knowing. She has loved him for her whole life, and he has and he will love her for his.
His body takes care of the rest, and hers, their gasps and moans and laughter punctuated with kisses on shoulders and cheeks and lips and soft asks of, do you like this? and hang on, and oh, and soon he is physically out of breath even though he doesn’t need to breath, because his emotions are playing such a toll on him.
“Next time I’ll have a playlist,” he promises, stopping to look at her underneath him, his hips against hers, his hand on her torso, thumb against the curve of her breast. “Because you’re— well. Do you wanna be my girlfriend? Is that something I gotta ask?”
















