Power Play | PJM 🔞

12| Lovely

A few minutes after we're done cleaning ourselves, the aftermath becomes quiet. Jimin's head rests on my breast and he's falling asleep, breathing slow and deep with his eyes closed while holding onto me like a life jacket.

My hand goes to his head and I can't help myself, gently combing through his hair with my fingers and massaging his scalp and forehead. He obviously loves it, body relaxing entirely on top of mine. My eyelids are heavy and I'm seconds away from giving in to sleep as well. However, I need to pee and right now this urge trumps all of the others.

I just don't feel like bothering Jimin, who looks way too comfortable, and decide to give him a few more minutes of silence before running to the bathroom.

In the meantime, I look around, my eyes washing over his bedroom. My vision is accustomed to the darkness now and I can see clearly my surroundings.

I don't know what I was expecting, but certainly not this.

The space is large, with blue and grey tones and a king size bed. On the walls, there are posters representing constellations and night skies with all the star names, small galaxies in frames with their names underneath.

There are lots of books on the shelves, a very neat desk with a laptop and a copper globe. A telescope is directed to the window, long grey expensive-looking thing with lots of buttons to adjust.

There are no whips, no handcuffs and chains dangling from the ceiling. This looks like a totally normal boy's room.

I look up.

There are fluorescent plastic stars scotched to the ceiling.

My heart melts completely and I hold onto Jimin tighter. This duality of his is what makes him so precious to me. If the guy had only been pure dominance, mind games, and leather, not getting attached would have been easy. But there is this side of him; the side who smiles and likes doughnuts on the riverbank, and plastic stars constellations, which is so lovable and.... cute.

My heart is breaking at the mere idea of leaving this place.

"Hey," I whisper, shaking his shoulder to wake him up.

He lets out a groan, tightening his grip on my waist.

"I need to pee and you're crushing my bladder."

"Sorry," he says, rolling on his back at my side, clearly against his will, "The bathroom is over there."

I pick my clothes from the ground, running to the bathroom naked with his eyes on my ass. I close the door behind me.

"You can take a shower too if you want, there are clean towels in the cupboard."

His bathroom is a Home magazine dream. Glass shower with rain effect, large ceramic bathtub with spa treatment, floor-to-ceiling mirrors, he got it all.

"Actually that would be great," I say while eyeing the crystal fixtures from the toilet.

I do feel kind of sweaty and gross.

"There is one condition," he says, and even from the other side of the door, I know he's smiling deviously.

"What is it?"

"I shower with you."

Of course.

I flush the toilet, letting him wait while I wash my hands and grab a fluffy towel from the cupboard to wrap around my body. As soon as I unlock the door he comes in, shamelessly naked.

He closes the door behind us, locks it, then goes to the shower, turning the water on. He then crosses his arms on his chest and looks down at me as I furiously blush.