His mouth was watering. The scent of her blood beneath her skin, perfumed with the arousal they had begun in the Academy, was threatening his attention away from the road. It filled him, lingered in his head in a most distracting way. He enjoyed it immensely and wanted more than just that scent. Her hand had made him react immediately, light fingers creeping up his slacks towards his groin; he grew to meet her touch, pressing against the zipper.
At the beginning of their relationship he didn't quite know how to handle all of the sexual tension between them. Worried, as always, that they were moving too fast for each other, or craving each other only for skin and fulfillment, he would be filled with want and hesitation, that he wouldn't be able to perform after so long. It took only a couple of weeks to get back into the rhythm of having a lover again, despite all his long years of celibacy. Many of the acts were the same as they had been between couples for thousands of years. As they became more familiar with each other's bodies, he became braver, venturing into different tastes, different pleasures. And as much as he knew he had to be professional and in control in front of others - the image of cordiality, calm, and evenness - he wanted very much to tear into her at every opportunity he got, regardless of who was around.
And she knew that.
He groaned through pressed lips as he kept his eyes on the road. Damien closed his eyes, air feeling electric and sharp in his lungs. A well of pleasure building from his core, seeping down his thighs to meet Rachel's fingers as they wandered. The idea of her unbuttoning him there in the car and removing him from his pants danced on his mind, despite his best attempts at ignoring them. Warm fingers handling the most sensitive parts of him, wrapped around him, stroking him. He groaned again, ignoring the fantasy.
What are you thinking about?
How was it that she always caught him thinking about things he couldn't say out loud to her? Damien exhaled a grunt of a laugh, lips curling into an unfiltered smile of pleasure. "You," he gave the standard response, knowing it would have to be modified in order to satiate her question fully. His jaw quaked with want and he clamped his mouth shut to stave the hunger off. He threw a look at her from the driver's side, a dangerous, scalding look that he used while hunting and seducing prey. It was rusty, this look, full of hesitance and crumbling composure of the monk he once was. "Your hand on my leg," he clarified more and returned his gaze to the road. Fixation was coming; he could feel it growing in his mind behind his eyes. Quietly, as if afraid to be so bold, Damien added, "The way you smell right now."
He lifted a hand off the wheel and pressed his palm down onto the back of that wandering hand, her fingers wriggling beneath him. Fingers entwined together, and he reluctantly removed that hand from his thigh forcing their palms together on the center console of the Lexus. Damien sighed quietly and adjusted himself in his seat, the position becoming mildly uncomfortable now as his excitement grew.