Part 4

Warnings: Lemon, mood swings, and mystery! >:D

After pulling away from our breath-stealing kiss, I began to rain kisses down Darien's neck, down his well sculpted chest, pausing only to pay homage to each nipple, sucking on, then twirling my tongue around each nub, feeling them harden under my ministrations. Hell, you'd think I'd done this before, but truth be told, it was my first time. I was acting purely on instinct, hundreds of romance novels, and hundreds of thousands of lemony fanfics.

Darien leaned back onto his elbows, a delicious moan escaping from his lips. I must have been doing something right. Eager to please, my lips and tongue traveled further south, exploring each crevice and curve, committing them to memory. I can barely hold him still as he squirms in my grasp.

His erection, already hot and trembling, jutted just below my neck, it's heat caressing my sweaty skin. Moving back, I paused. My eyes drinking in the sight of the sweating, squirming, moaning form that is Darien, I felt my heart leap into my throat. To say he had a god-like physique would be an understatement!

His obsidian eyes captured my blue for a moment, the wanton need in them speaking volumes. I could smell his desire wafting up off his skin, his scent driving my senses wild and flaming my own desire. Attempting to hide my own reddened cheeks, not to mention the drool trailing down my chin, I returned to the task at hand.

Poising my mouth over his shaft, I stared at the pulsing muscle, not sure where to start. My cool breath caused a shiver to run through him, his hips bucking sightly. Holding him down more firmly, I timidly licked the tip of his shaft, tasting his salty-sweet skin, savoring the texture and flavor. Without further hesitation, I plunged his erection deeper into my mouth . . . and nearly choked. Darien didn't notice as he tried to keep quiet, his hands digging into the cushions. His efforts caused him to sound like a mewling kitten, I noted, briefly wondering what he'd sound like if he hadn't needed to restrain himself.

As I started to move up and down his shaft, I pinched the base with one hand, circling around his thickness, as my other rolled his balls. I remember reading somewhere where someone did this, so I thought I'd give it a try. Darien certainly didn't complain of my methods as he writhed beneath me from the sweet torture, his skin glistening with perspiration, and his face contorting into a parody of pain. He concentrated more on breathing as I continued, his moans echoing through the room. So much for being quiet.

I sped up my pace, my hand pumping and squeezing the bottom half of his shaft, as I sucked, nipped, and licked the top half. I plunged the pulsing mass deep into my mouth, needing to end things quickly. I had no way of knowing how much longer we had to ourselves, but something told me it wasn't long.

Soon, Darien's body convulsed as he screamed in ecstasy, his hips bucking wildly as I lost my grip, sending his erection deep into my throat, making me gag. His salty-sweet fluid spurted down my throat, choking me at first, till I remembered to pull back and swallow. I consumed as much as I could, though some spilled out of my mouth and down my chest, effectively soaking my shirt. Darien fell onto his back, his energy spent. Which seems strange, considering I did all the work. The now relaxed muscle slid out of my mouth as I sat up, wiping the sticky fluid from my face.

Damn, but this guy's got a lot of juice! I wonder if that's normal . . .

I just sat there, watching the firelight dance on the nearly-napping man before me. I watched as sweat slowly dried on his skin, his chest rising and falling with each breath . . . I don't know how long we stayed like that, but the fire was almost out when we came back to our senses. Or rather, when we heard voices out in the hall calling out for us. Panicking, I quickly grabbed Darien's pants and tossed them to him. He quickly put them on as I searched for the rest of his clothes. Where the hell did his boxers go?? Darien slipped his shoes on while I grabbed his shirt and jacket. All the while I berated myself for forgetting our time limit.

"Put my shirt on!" Darien urged as he pulled his jacket on over his bare shoulders, zipping it up.

"Why?" I had a feeling I was missing something obvious, but couldn't think of what.

"Your shirt is, well . . . wet." He blushed lightly with that last word. No wonder I felt a chill. I put the shirt on, tucking it into my shorts. I left the top few buttons undone and rolled up the sleeves.

"Um, where's my boxers?" Darien asked sheepishly. I shrugged my shoulders and we both began searching for the illusive pair. Just then, the voices stopped right outside the door.

"Hey, you guys in there?" Someone, a girl, called as they knocked on the door.

"Why are you knocking? Just open the door!" Someone else, a boy, said.

"What if they're . . . you know!" Darien and I hastened our search.

"If that's the case, then let me open it!" The door flew open and I spotted the light blue fabric of Darien's boxers, just to the left of the door, peeking out from behind a box.

"There you are!"

"It's time to go."

"What were you two doing in her anyway?" The boy asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Uh . . ." Darien stood up, his search under the couch cut short.

"Oh, my . . . what happened to your arms?!?" The girl rushed over to me to look at the bandages covering my forearms.

"Oh, it's just a rash. The bandages are to keep the medicine from getting rubbed off." I said, waving her off. "You three go ahead go while I put out the fire."

"Fire, eh?" A wicked grin spread across the boy's face as he spoke. "He wasn't enough to warm you up, I take it?" I shot him a glare that would have done my mother proud, causing him to make a hasty exit.

"Oh, he's got the flashlight! Come on!" The girl raced out the door, Darien following close behind. I chuckled as I heard her shout "Terry! Wait for us!" I put out the nearly dead fire, stomping out the coals as best I could and burying them in ashes. I poured what was left of the 'medicine' over it all, mixing it in for safe measure. The smell was atrocious! I walked to the door and grabbed Darien's shorts. Not knowing where else to put them, I settled for my shirt and stuffed them inside, hoping no one would notice the slight bulge. I fumbled around in the semi-dark a bit looking for the flashlight. Not fun. I bumped into several things before I found the darn thing. Not to be left behind any longer, I turned it on and quickly made my way back to the others who were already waiting outside.


It's strange how things don't go they way you thought they would. We're following a dirt road that hadn't been used in decades and is barely visible in the light given off from the flashlights. It twists and turns often, avoiding trees, rocks, and what have ya's. Cathy thinks it will lead to the highway. If we can get there, we can follow it all the way back to the camp. Darien and I walk side by side at the end of the line, saying nothing unless necessary. I felt awkward about the whole situation, and I'm sure he does too.

Something . . . Something's changed. I wish I knew what it was. The whole day has been strange, granted, but that's not it. I can almost taste it in the air. I don't like this. Something's wrong and I don't know what it is. It must show on my face, even in the bitter dark, for Darien looks at me with worry in his eyes. I try to reassure him with a smile, but it doesn't work. I think he senses it too, now.

"What is it?" Yes. He does. I'm certain of it now. I can hear it in his voice.

"I don't know."

"That worries you, doesn't it?" I nod. "Me too." Nothing else is said. There's nothing else to say. Not yet. Not now.

It wasn't long till there were whoops and howls of joy from ahead. The highway was in sight. While the others recklessly ran ahead, Darien and I kept our pace. There's an ominous feeling in the pit of my stomach, weighted like a ball of ice. Fear. I'm afraid. Why? My hand's warm. He's holding my hand. For a moment that's all I can think. He's holding my hand! It seems strange that I would get so much from a simple gesture, especially after what we did not an hour ago. But that was necessary. It could have been any guy. But this . . . He chose to hold my hand. He chose.

The moment is fleeting. His grip tightens as we near the highway and the blacktop comes into view. Everyone's waiting. We're the last to arrive. I'm not sure if anyone notices that we're holding hands, but no one says anything. Maybe it's the looks on our faces. He stop when we reach the others, but we do not touch the pavement. I wish I could shake this feeling. If it were just me . . . but it's not. Darien feels it too. That truly frightens me.

A ferocious wind chose that moment to roll across the blacktop. It was warm and moist, like someone's breath. Darien and I were the only ones who shivered. It had an ominous feel, as if God Himself were trying to warn us, or the devil laughing. I don't know which would be worse. I don't care to find out, either.

Someone once said that not knowing is the worst. When you don't know, your mind comes up with several possibilities. Someone else said that may be, but the worst he's felt is when he knew, but couldn't do a damn thing about it. Sometimes it's worse than what you could ever have imagined. I think it may be not knowing enough and not being able to do a damn thing about any of it. Stuck in the middle. Your mind has just enough to get your imagination really going. Having your fears confirmed is another, even if it's just in someone else's eyes.

Fear and helplessness.

I hate this . . .

A/N: . . . I took quite a turn there, didn't I? ^^;; You probably noticed the writing style has changed a bit, even in this part. The time between part 3 and this one is substantial. Also, I rewrote the lemon in this part I don't know *how* many times, I had such trouble with it. -;; Also, the time spent between the lemon and the rest is quite long, though not nearly as long since I wrote part 3. ^^;; As for the tone change . . . I didn't quite expect it myself. My muse took over. I no longer know where this is going. Possibly why I stopped here. It's looking less and less like fan fiction and more and more like . . . therapy. ^^;; I am one deeply disturbed individual. :D

A/N2: Okay, it's not fan fiction. Not anymore. Actually, I don't think it really ever was! ^^;; Anyway, I've given up on the 'fan' part, it's too 'original' with nothing tying it to any fandom. Which is why I've moved this to the originals section. ^^