𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐈𝐧 𝐑𝐞𝐝 ● 𝐉𝐉𝐊

• 10 • embrasse-moi

But before you can take your hand off from the knob, he reaches out his veiny, big hand and wraps it strongly around your tiny one.

You feel a large surge of heat in your body, his body heat conquering you. The authority with which he wrapped his hand around you, you were loosing your senses. You did not move back from his touch. His touch was salacious, enriching. It created a rush in your skin, of wanting to be against his.

Your body unconsciously moved back while glaring at his hand around yours. Colliding with his large one unknowingly. His hard chest brushing against your back. Your breath was halted and your eyes wanted to shut and feel him against you. The nearness, his smell, his authority was all just too much.

You look sideways in a trance, eyes travelling along his veins. To see him looking at you too with those lazy inky eyes. You felt his chest and his biceps tensed.

He put force on your hand, wrenching the door apart in a second with just one hand, your body falling into his arms. He caught you perfectly, his hand supported your back, to not touch you on any intimate spot but prevent you from falling as well. Your head falls on his left shoulder while you were looking at him, so now your eyes are connected with him like swans romancing on sleeping waters that look flat as mirror except of the watery image of the swans looking into each other's eyes and bodies shaping a heart.

The breeze approving with a light blow on his hair, the fringes flying with it. His body preventing the breeze from touching you and radiating his heat to you.

"Done. Easy." He speaks into the depths of your ears. His hand on your back, brushing your waist causing more shivers to pass down through your tormented body. His hand sags back down since now you are standing on your own.

You still look into his eyes when he takes off his hand from yours, his fingers brushing the back of your hand like tender leaves dancing in the wind. The rush on your skin buzzing and frizzing, subsiding with unending spasms of excitement and thrill. Sweet, sweet fuck. His touch is so mellow and invigorating.

"Y-yes.." your hand follows his hand when he is taking it off. Like it's being pulled by his touch. Making your hand remove itself from the knob and have his fingers on it.

"Should we go in, cherie?" His dulcet voice perforating you. You look down to see your hand lurking on his fingers when you pull it back and place it on the knob again. The redness flaming hot and high on your face.

"Y-ye-yeah.." The pattering of your heart makes your throat clog. What the hell was that? You feel like a wet dog, all saggy and heavy with the overwhelming feelings.

You look away from him. Trying to make sense of what is happening? Why are you here, in this world and stuff. Normal existence crisis.

You go into your studio. Mind numb. Walking in like a zombie.

You look around to see if everything's fine, him still standing behind you. You catch sight of your bra hanging in the kitchen place and before thinking anything else, you just jump out till there and pull it down. Stuffing it in the place below for the time being, before he saw it. Of course.

Doofus, your teenage self really had the audacity to bring him to your studio. Bold of you to assume you stayed clean and tidy.

You see him walk in and look sideways and give you a concerned look. "Why is your face paler, sweetie? Are you alright?"

You give a smile to him. Sure, an ugly one with your brows furrowed and nails digging into your palms. "I'm always like this. Um.. please sit. Don't stand there."