Ash is a fashion model, not by choice but the desire of his projecting mother. People think he's too cocky for his own good, judging him based on what he posts online. But Ash hates the brush he's been painted with, along with the stereotypes of the...
body: (noun) 1. the physical structure, including the bones, flesh, and organs, of a person or an animal.
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I walk out of the probation office finally feeling like I can breathe. Even though they shit down my neck, not literally. They gave me a good warning. If I dare break curfew again, I can find myself back in the courtroom and risk facing prison.
Safe to say I learnt my lesson. But in a way I'm glad I did what I did. Sleeping beside Ash–even though I don't remember that part–I woke up beside him and we definitely had a morning to remember.
That kind of sex hits different because it's so open, honest and raw and I wanted to devour every living second of it. Our bodies practically answered each other and being the top for once really turned things around, it showed me how much he trusts me.
And as much as I love being the bottom, fucking Ash whilst he looks at me with those big emerald eyes. I will never masturbate to porn again, I promise you.
I scold myself because I cannot believe this is what I'm thinking about as I walk home, growing a rock hard erection in my pants. My fingers pull at the material and I attempt to reshuffle everything around. Trying to make it less obvious that I'm severely turned on right now by my own imagination.
When I get home and head to my bedroom, I check my phone but I have no messages from Ash. I told him to message me when he was done with his probation but he hasn't, he should have been done like thirty minutes ago. Yet no text.
He's probably busy. I tell myself. Meeting up with his friends or going for a walk or maybe he's lost track of time and he's still there, working hard as ever for absolutely no reason.
bodihawk1: I'm off the hook! Only a mean telling off and a warning but I'm in the clear. Thank God
bodihawk1: Are you home yet? Pls don't tell me you're still there working
bodihawk1: Also why do we still message on Instagram? We're official now this is weird
I lock my phone and head for the shower. When I hear the front door slam I know my dad is home but I choose to ignore that information. If I pretend like he's not here, then everything in my mind feels instantly better.
Neither of us have really seen each other over the last couple of days and it's best to keep it that way. Once I'm out of here for good, I'll never have to see him again. Start fresh and regain my mind that has been shot down more times than I can count.
I deserve better and I'm pleased I can admit that to myself.
When I get back to my room, I expect there to be a message from Ash and yet my phone is silent. I frown because a part of me begins to panic but he should be fine, he's the one who is paranoid about the manor.
