Till Death Do Us Part ||Taekook||

Chapter # 46 Powdered Chalk

He answered like his intentions were obvious.

He clearly had an idea; one I wasn't sure I wanted to inquire into. I knew it was moronic to ignore the abstractions and consider testing the waters, but occasions in resemblance to such circumstances no longer deterred away from my overall intent. In fact, if I allow Taehyung to believe I'm his personal little bitch, that might be the key to switching the roles. Besides, a massage sounded...nice.

"Flip over."

"Why?"

"Are you scared to find out?"

I looked into his eyes with an uneasy gaze. Hesitantly, I flipped onto my stomach, rotating myself until my crossed arms rested over the pillow at the top of the bed. I rested my face into the small triangular space between my elbows. I laid there silently. For a few minutes, I didn't hear a sound. It made me wonder if I was dreaming. 

Perhaps I was still standing under the shower head, the water sputtering in pressured streams as I remain in solitude with my own bizarre imagination. Taehyung's presence might be nothing but a fleeting idea in my head; a fragment of my own creation, a stress relief. A few minutes of pure hallucination. 

The snap of a plastic bag seal being ripped open finally gave confirmation of reality. The floor creaked as Taehyung slowly waltzed around the room. A quick pop followed by the sound of a zipper raised the hairs on my neck. I swallowed, a nervous knot moved slowly down my throat.

Shuffling strangled the silence of the room. Anticipation was clouding my mind with vulgar desires and shameful expectations. Silence returned to the room, my muscles relaxing once again. The relieving thought of his disappearance projected into my brain. Guilelessly, I made the naive selection to let my guard down. Taehyung knew. Somehow, he always knew.

With only a few seconds of solace, a screaming creak of the floorboards forced priority over my stream of inputting and outputting thoughts. I lifted my head just enough so when my neck pivoted towards the right I'd have a full view of the room. 

Just before I could crank my neck to the side, my head was forcefully pushed back into space between my arms. The pressure slid my forehead off the hovered position of my forearms, thrusting my nose and mouth into the pillow case.

A muffled grunt absorbed into the sheets. Taehyung pressed his right knee against my hip, throwing his other leg over me to create equal pressure on the opposite side. He straddled my hips, shifting his knees until the hard pressure pinned harshly into the bone. I squirmed in discomfort.

Taehyung released the pressure from the back of my head, allowing for readjustment to the previous hovered position on my arms so I could finally breathe in air instead of fabric. The crinkle of a plastic bag followed shortly after. I flinched as a ticklish prickle itched down the center indention of my back.

The context of the situation finally registered. Taehyung emptied the bag in a single pour. He used his finger to neatly push the powder into a straight line, using the inward curve of my spine to guide the long band of cocaine. The tip of his finger created merciless shudders and shivers as he continued to shape the line like a river through a valley. The cocaine, a twisted symbol of the stream of river water, the curves of my figure representing the vast walls of a canyon.

He spent a prolonged period of time shaping the line of cocaine like a pristine sculptor. I couldn't seem to get used to the light feathery feeling of his fingertips brushing against my skin. A startled gasp released from my nostrils, the breath failing to find an escape between my clenched teeth. Taehyung's silk covered cock was pressing firmly down the middle dip of the towel.