Tʜᴀᴛ Mᴀsᴋᴇᴅ Sᴛᴀʟᴋᴇʀ 🔞

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TAEHYUNG

I can't stop.
I'm staring at my little doll lying here beside me, sleeping so peacefully.
Her black lashes tickle the tops of her soft cheeks, her rosy lips sit like a little heart on her face, perfectly sensual and lucious, and her beautiful, silky black hair lay thick and sprawled above her head. Her chest rises and falls in steady, slow breaths.
My cock urges me to wake her up. To interrupt whatever dream she's in, awakening her to a better one. But a different part of me can't bear the thought of disrupting something so peaceful. So pure.

I'd love nothing more than to suck those perfectly pink, fleshy nipples that press against my white oversized shirt covering her body, into my mouth, to spread those milky thighs and lap up my favorite source of hydration. Fuck,
I could drink her in for days.

But she twitches her nose then nuzzles her head against my side, curling up into me, and my heart constricts while my body stiffens.
She does this in her sleep. Curls her body into mine, almost seeking it for comfort and warmth. It's weird to think someone can be so fucking sexy while simultaneously looking cute. My face contorts at the idea. Her fist curls against her chest, her slim little fingers resting gently together. She's as innocent as a baby rabbit in the woods, but wake her up, and guaranteed she'll show you her fucking teeth.

She's come so far for me, really coming into her own in my presence. But her words from earlier resonate; the longing to touch, to memorize every inch of my flesh against hers.
I've never wanted to change for anyone. The idea literally enraged me. I'd become who I was for a reason. I controlled my world and my surroundings now, not believing anything other than the truths I'd seen materialize before me. I had to. Losing the control I'd felt as a boy was a horror I'd never wished to revisit.

But with y/n, losing control doesn't cost me my livelihood. It strengthens me because somehow she's figured out how to empower me.

She's proven she won't let me fall alone. She builds me up, just as I've done with her all along, accepting the broken man any way she can get me.
A form of the word love she talks about that I've never known. Selfless love.

She doesn't do it to derive anything from me. This isn't a transaction from which she gains anything from me. She sticks by my side because, for some strange reason, she chooses to. Y/n gravitates towards the person I am with no conditions. Without equivocation. It's an emotion I've never felt or known, and it takes some getting used to.

My fingers graze hers, and an idea comes over me. I lay my head back against the pillow, gazing up at the ceiling. Inhaling, I breathe in the scent of fresh apples from the top of her head, the shampoo I washed throughout her silky locks last night. Taking her hand, I hover it over my chest. With a clenched jaw, I trail her relaxed palm and loose fingers across my scarred and tatted flesh, exhaling slowly. From the mounds of my chest, down into the divot of the line of my abdomen, I move her hand by the wrist, adjusting to the gentle feel of her touch on me.

Breathing through the initial discomfort, I inhale her aroma again, and it calms me. I'm in control.
I continue this for a few minutes, just her fingers drawing soft circles across my skin as I guide her hand by the wrist. Finding myself enjoying the sensation, my heart calms and my breaths steady as lazy fingers trail up and down my abdomen. I lick my lips, tingling sensations forming below the sheets as my cock comes alive.

Visions of placing her soft palm on my growing erection overtake me as I trail her hand lower and lower. Her fingertips brush against the straining bulge sitting beneath the thin white fabric, and my abdominal muscles tighten as I breathe through flared nostrils.

Her head shifts next to me, and a soft hum leaves her throat. Feathery lashes blink against her upper cheeks before her head tips up and a lazy grin finds me.