𝐍𝐎 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋 ━━ 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘺

𝐱𝐱𝐱𝐯iii. chapter thirty five

it's been too long since he felt her tight, velvety walls squeezing around him. it's been too long since he ran his hands on the curves of her brown sugar skin; since he traced his tongue and peppered her kisses around every inch of her angelic body; since he made her sing in praise or choke in degradation.

his knee jitters up and down, feeling his pants start to tighten around his crotch. he's holding back everything in his power not to kick down derrielle's bedroom door, tear it off its hinges and control her as she clearly wants to be controlled.

and the thing is... he would if only they talked about it before.

and this got him thinking— no wonder elle wrote out her fantasies. who could blame her?

they've never discussed what they like,
what they don't like, what their boundaries are.

insecurities start to gnaw at his heart, stabbing his right ventricle. causing him to bleed into the memories pounding against his mind. he always satisfied her, and she's done the same for him.

did she not trust him enough to tell? possibly. her asshole of an ex completely ruined her, but he is the one that fixed her. did he do something wrong? not to his knowledge, she would've told him. does all of this make him a bad boyfriend? no. of course not. It's simple miscommunication— that has since been broadcasted to the entire cast and crew.

anger patches his wounds. possessive spite darkening his lightning-blue eyes as he clenches his fists, itching for a solid repercussion. if she wants him to take control, he'll gladly do so.

✍︎︎

"derry," drew knocks on the bedroom door, his voice soft but stern. his voice echoing throughout the empty hallway, he can hear his girlfriend shift on the old and springy bed. he messaged their roommates privately, telling them to leave for the couple's anniversary. "i know you're in there, my love. maddie said that you haven't left, nor ate anything. open the door."

"i'm fine, drew," elle lies, her voice wavering as she tries to shift the blame onto someone else. "you know how maddie is, she's overreacting."

"no, she's not," he frustratingly sighs, signaling to the girl behind the door that he means business. "now open this door, i'm already pissed off as it is."

a few seconds of quietness pass until the old springs creak and derrielle twists open the doorknob to reveal what she is wearing-- which, in retrospect, is barely anything.

in a slight pout, she lets him in the room. her amber eyes focusing on his harsh steps, broadening shoulders, the countless amount of licking his lips, and how his furious eyes couldn't exactly focus on one thing: from the black mid-calf socks that show off her toned legs to his large t-shirt that falls just short of her mid-thigh, the black lacey underwear peaking from underneath and the stiff peaks of her breasts to her hair in a wild, messy appearance.

"are you mad at me?"

he scoffs, shrugging as he beings to pace in front of her, "a little."

"am i supposed to guess what the problem is?" she narrows her eyes at him, crossing her arms in an annoyed stance.

"well, you tell me," he turns to her, his question alerting some alarms locked inside her head. "am i not satisfying you enough?"

"what?" she questions, feeling a bit bashful about the way she is handling it.

"did you think i wouldn't read it?" he retorts, his voice condescending.

god, she hates how easy she gets off to this change in demeanor.