The Mobster's Obsession

10

The morning beams of light land on your eyelids, poking them sharply in their silky movements, so you travel back to the land of the living, where your spent form lingers amongst the white of the linens that drape the four post sandalwood bed you're laying naked on.
Namjoon must have removed your clothes before you had woken up, but what intrigues you the most is the room around you. It's like nowhere you've been before, yet it's grand beauty cannot be ignored. The ceiling is much higher than most ceilings you've seen, and the dune painted walls are decorated sparsely with impactful yet soothing works of art that remind you of Namjoon's artistic taste. And behind the linen curtains that mantle the generous windows, there's the outline of ample, poised greenery... in its border a huge tree adorned with scant cherry blossoms and icy branches that prod the crisp morning breeze.
The hunting, misterious beauty of Namjoon's bedroom is left behind after you put on the teal kimono that he's left at the foot of the bed for you, and open the door to reveal the halls of the museumesque manor it belongs to.
There are impressive paintings and sculptures on every corner of the grandiose 2 story building, and slender vines tangle in the banister which separate the floor you're in from the one below, but allows you to make out the gorgeous babbling fountain that's centered below, on a huge hall.
Your bare feet graze the marble floor and guide you down the slightly squeaky stairs to find more greenery and minimal seating around the marble fountain, which you admire with wide eyes.
Past the fountain there's copious amounts of light coming through glass double doors, and a burning desire to appreciate the garden outside fills your chest, where Namjoon is sitting peacefully under a tree, completely inmersed in the hefty book in his hands. It almost seems like he's just any other twenty something guy, with mundane concerns in his mind, at the sight of him fussing his bottom lip with his index finger and his his eyes screwed up in concentration. There's a flimsy notebook on the grass beneath his chair, and sheets of paper that threaten to fly away in the throws of the wind.
He's not dressed in his usual luxurious attire, instead he's wearing gray sweatpants and a white nylon jacket, his straight brown locks of hair ruffled by the gusp of wind that casually blows on his direction. This rare and soft side of him makes your heart erratically pump in a completely different way, one that isn't welcome, but it's there all the same.
You slide one of the glass doors open, and upon realizing the cold temperature of the grass beneath your feet, you run towards him to sit on his lap.
-Baby, you're going to get frostbite... I should have left more comfortable shoes for you...- he says while brushing a lock of hair away from your eyes and presenting his lips to meet yours.
There's a tightness in your chest that is soon touched by Namjoon's strong hand, and in response, a gut wrenching sweet smile that coaxes his dimples into appearance.
-I have so many questions... -you respond with pinkness streaked across you cheeks -...but the most important one is: why do you insist on taking my breath away when I least expect it?
He chuckles and cups your nape, fingers digging into your hair and drawing you close to meet his forehead, making you rejoice in the warmth his whole being is exuding. It feels so nice, so soothing, so peaceful, so natural to be in his arms like this...
Unwilling to disturb the precious moment, you lean back on his chest and rest your head in the crook of his neck, allowing him to return to his previous activity which he serenely resumes resting his cheek on the top of your head.
The book he's reading talks about forests and art and literature... It's both amazing and puzzling how someone who leads such a hectic and obscure life can also be so calm, so sensitive and poised... such a stark contrast between his normal self and this gentler, less calculating version of him.
After a few flipped pages he closes the book and reaches for your cold feet to rub them, and bring them back to a warmer temperature, while you thank him by pecking the soft skin behind his ear.
-This is the house I grew up in. I come here when I want to unplug... -he explains in a low voice.
-It's beautiful...
-Right on this spot is where my mother use to sit and read me and my father all kinds of stories... We were so happy back then... but after she killed herself, he... was never the same...
-Why did she do it?- you ask as tactfully as you can.
-She wasn't completely... sane... -he sighs -... according to my father, but a part of me thinks that she was sick of living with the guilt... My father was much, much worse than me.
-Yet you still decided to run the family business in his place...
-It was not really a decision I made... -he utters regretfully -...I just woke up one day, with all these responsibilities, people to look after, enemies at every corner, and next thing I knew I was at the top of the food chain, confined there... but... you bring me back to reality, or steer me away from it... I... become someone... completely different around you... More like my mother and less like my father...
-She sounds like someone I would have gotten along with... -you mutter absentmindedly.
-You definitely would have...
He carries you inside and sits you down on the kitchen counter. There's a platter he takes out of the oven with scrambled eggs, strips of vegan bacon, croissants and berries on it; and places it by your side before he nervously pours coffee and milk in a mug that is later placed in your hands. He hands you a fork and sits with you on the counter with the platter in between the both of you.
-Did you make this?! - you exclaim with incredulously...
-No... -he replies regretfully -...I'm completely useless in the kitchen... you know how clumsy I am...
-Yeah... -you laugh outloud and stuff your face with a generous serving of eggs and bacon as every cell in your bruised body does a celebratory dance of gratefulness.
He eats very little, mostly entranced by the sight of you, and every now and then he feeds you a berry with an enamored expression in his stare. The question of where he gets the fuel to build such muscles, fuck like a beast and lead such a demanding life, is looming in your mind when he hops off the counter to plant wet kisses all over your neck and cup your butcheeks pressed against the marble surface.
-There's no way you're having sex with me after how sore I am from last night...
-I just wanna eat this...- he purrs while using his thumb to press against your clothed clitoris and immediately causing the walls of your core to lubricate in preparation. -...that's all I'm hungry for...
-You know we don't have to do it all the time for me to love you, right?...- you whisper while looking deep into his dragon eyes, which now that you gaze at them from a different angle, are just as kind as they are fiery.
-I know my love... and that's precisely why I want to...
He brushes your folds with his lips and plants pecks all over your pubis, your inner thighs... and your fingers are traveling through his shiny locks of hair, reaching into the back of his T-shirt to feel his back muscles and his supple skin. After a few seconds his kisses get wetter and hungrier, his grasp on your thighs firmer, and the amount of wetness beneath you, looks like an actual pool of slime...
This is not the Namjoon who you first met. This one is so much softer, so much more romantic and loving... and it reminds you of Jungkook, who's completely oblivious of your whereabouts. In the end you had done as he'd predicted, you were here... slowly coming undone under Namjoon's lips, with painful guilt bubbling up inside you... Maybe you and Namjoon deserved each other after all. Maybe it was him who you belonged together with.
This idea is the one that surrenders you in his arms, willing to finally give yourself to him and come to terms with the fact that he had managed, despite your best efforts, to crawl under your skin.
Now he's circling his tongue around your hardened clitoris, lightly teasing the tip and caressing your breasts with gentle strokes; but it is as devastatingly exquisite as it is maddening, electrical currents flowing from your nipples to your core which needs no other stimulation to explode with a soulful whine from your mouth.
Namjoon takes the opportunity to straighten up and stare into your eyes, followed by a motion where he slowly introduces his index and middle fingers inside your tightly wound pussy. He immediately presses them forward to massage your G-spot, while licking his voluptuous lips clean.
He is so unbelievably sexy, with those exotic features and that honey skin, mouthing unentiligible compliments to your woozy state.
Now his fingers are moving faster, bulling your G-spot and heating up your pelvis with what seems to be another looming orgasm. He notices the hastened panting and your heaving breasts, and slides down once again to lay wet kisses directly on your clitoris, the sweet suckling motion repeats itself over and over till you're wailing out another soul crushing orgasm and more and more of your essence is leaked onto his hands and slides down to the floor like clear lava.
His fingers stop and his mouth moves away to attach to your nipples, one at a time. He licks them patiently, pecking around your areola and being careful not to hurt your already bruised breasts. His tongue moves to the rythm of the soft wind that brushes the pine branches steadily back and forth, and his hands are supporting your waist, making you feel like it doesn't matter how low you drop, he will be there to keep you steady this time around.
The moment your core throbbs again, Namjoon plunges his head back in it. It's like he truly knows you better than anyone, or at least shares some type of telepathy with the deepest part of you, because he needs no instructions or interruptions to know exactly what's right every single time. It's like he was made to please your innermost desires and needs, because the way he approaches your body is both calculated and passionate. His attention to detail, his cunning, intuition and intellect is not limited to conventional intelligence, it also translates perfectly into his love making.
He slurps away every drop of nectar from your hole... he makes sure of his actions with a greedy tongue deep inside and his thumb on your overstimulated tip. But just the pressure against it is enough to make your whole being a pulsating, moany mess at his mercy. When he's drunk your soul out, he locks your thighs with his arms wrapping them from behind and uses his hands to stretch your pussy to every side. He syphons your clitoris with ravenous slurps and skin pops that have you tugging at the roots of your hair and screaming for dear life. It's like he's feeding on you when the slap of yet another insane orgasm renders you almost unconscious, but he wastes no time to pull you to the edge of the counter and lowers his sweatpants to withdraw his already runny, gorgeous cock and stick it inside you.
-One more, baby, the last one...- he asks, yet he actually commands.
Even if you're still sore from the night before, you can't feel none of that when he's holding you like that, and kissing you like there's no tomorrow. He rails you whole with gusto, savoring every single one of your expressions and body contractions... He relishes in the spasmodic twitch of your pelvis, and the clenching of your walls with his eyes closed, making you truly astonished at his rare, unconventional yet magnetic beauty. It's only when he's not looking at you with his intimidating regard, that you can truly bask in the full glory of this man's incredibly handsome features.
You lay your back on the kitchen counter and he runs his hand all over your stomach and in between your breasts, your chest, and then back where he started. It's so soothing and sensual simultaneously, so powerful yet so simple, the complexity with which he makes love to you. It takes him no effort yet he's far from being unaffected, with his eyes screwed tightly shut, and the cotton of his shirt sticking to his perfect, sweaty chest; but when he pulls it over his head to discard it on the floor, your hand automatically reaches for your core to coax the mind altering climax that makes your whole body tremble and spasm on his cock, which sputters out his creamy load with muffled moans and groans from where he's located.
You sit up and hug the flawed man in front of you, regardless of how perfect he might seem. Wishing to make every single scar in his soul a little bit smoother, every ache a little less painful, even when you know that this is who he is; this is who he has chosen to be, you love him all the same, you protect him, you make excuses for him, you cause tears in your relationship with Jungkook because of him... You wished he didn't feel so warm, you wish he didn't make you feel the way he does, you wish his mind wasn't so interesting, his voice so enticing, his scent so beckoning, his embrace so powerful... but right now you don't care about any of that. You will rejoice in this moment for a while, you will give him the love he's been yearning for, and you will hold him tight in your arms for as long as you can be the version of yourself who believes that this Namjoon, is not only irreplaceable, but also someone you could actually be with for a long time...