Tʜᴀᴛ Mᴀsᴋᴇᴅ Sᴛᴀʟᴋᴇʀ 🔞

fσrmídαвlє fαcєѕ

Y/N

His arms around me speak an entirely different language than the words of his body in the woods. Hands hold on to me in a new, unexpected embrace.

Comforting. Almost gentle and protective.

Taehyung  is carrying me to the bathroom of one of the strangest cabins I’ve ever seen.
I wouldn’t define it as a cabin. The word cabin to me implies something old, rustic, and warm. This is a sleek shell of modern. With its linear architecture, the exterior boasts high-end craftsmanship, echoing that same design in the interior. Nothing but black walls, granite floors, furniture that’s practically scraping the floor with its low height, and floor to ceiling windows facing an entirely hidden forest behind us.

This looks like a billionaire’s getaway, not a homeless stalker who fucks his conquests in the woods, smashing their face into the earth beneath them.

What we did out there was animalistic. It was organically primal. The raw passion of his unrelenting need stirs my internal femininity into a cyclone of desire. Needing him to claim me as his in his woods, craving his release on me like some sort of marked property. I realized I enjoyed the submission during sex. I loved to feel owned and belittled in order to open myself to feeling that freeing release. It was oddly cathartic for a woman who fights wars for equality on a daily basis.

The orgasm I experienced out there in that dirt defies everything I should want out of sex and intimacy, and yet, it terrifies me entirely, because I don’t think I can see the act any other way now. Becoming one flesh is what He intended for us. Sex is its own form of worship, and what we did was nothing short of honoring this newfound religion we’ve created. If it’s not that type of primal passion, that spine-tingling demand of his body inside the deepest part of mine, I don’t want it.

Exhaustion is taking over, and my eyelids are growing heavy. He sets me on the counter of the expansive and sleek bathroom as he starts up one of the largest walk-in showers I’ve ever seen, returning to me with a small white hand towel.

Going to pick me up again, I grab his forearm, stopping him. Steam billows above the black granite floors, and I turn my back to Taehyung to look at myself in the mirror.
Mud and dirt cover the right side of my face where I was held down.

There’s foliage in my hair, and I note the presence of smeared blood near my mouth from his wound. My shirt is ripped open and my breasts spill over the edge of my bra. My skirt is covered in dirt and my knees are black from the wet soil. I look ravaged. I look raw in my reflective form. The furthest thing from beautiful, and yet, with the flush in my cheeks, the swell of my lips, and the belly twisted with never-ending lust, I’ve never felt more ethereal.

“For we are God’s masterpiece...” he quotes near my ear, staring into my eyes in the reflection before us. “Your beauty is my chokehold.”

“Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised,” I retort, pulling a stick from my hair.

His eyes stay locked on mine as I take in the mess of paint smearing off his face.
“Do you see it now?” he asks, circling me to grab the hand towel. He wets it with water from the sink near me before ringing it out and standing behind me again. His hands brace the counter around me as he leans over me, his chin practically resting on my shoulder as he speaks into my ear. “How they try to tame the wild in you? How they focus on detaining His own natural creation in its purest, most exquisite form? We are created in His image, are we not?” He takes the towel and wipes the dirt from my cheek. I gaze at my image.

The woman before me, made in His image. The one who seeks freedom in the expression of her body, the opening of her soul to another. Yes, there is no marital union between us, but does that make what we’re doing of any less worth? Are we idolizing all the things the Lord himself asks us to deny? Is my God a truly jealous God?