𝙎𝙩𝙪𝙛𝙛𝙞𝙚 || 𝑩𝒓𝒂𝒉𝒎𝒔 𝑯𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒆 × 𝑭!𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

004 | Sleepover

Y/N's POV:

You slept oddly comfortably compared to how you mentally perceived the night. You had never slept as well as you did tonight; you even dreamed for the first time in forever. What amazed you, even more, was how your dream was about a man cuddling with you and touching your hair, yet you didn't freak out when you woke up; you weren't scared, and somewhere you wondered if that were because the man in your dream didn't have a face; it was as if something covered it.

Of course, if that had been real, you would've freaked out and been scared to death. But that wasn't the case. The man in your dream felt like a kind soul, mostly because of how gentle his touch was. You could've never imagined a man touching you as if you were something that could easily be broken, touching you in a way that showed you respect and that the moment was about you and not them. As if you were worth kindness, patience, and love.

Somewhere, it made you sad and hurt. Not only because you didn't believe someone would actually ever perceive you in such ways; but also because your mind had proven to you that men could be anything else than hurtful, dangerous, mean, and condescending. That they could be anything else than the spawn of the devil. Your own mind had disproved the fear that had ruled your whole life from the moment those men took advantage of you, and that realisation feared you.

You see, in your eyes, your PTSD wasn't only troublesome; it was something that protected you; otherwise, it would've never been created. It was something you despised yet felt safe in, and the possibility of that dying down and leaving you feeling as if your only form of protection would leave was terrifying. As if when you heal from your trauma, you'd be that naive girl again, something you never wanted to be anymore.

Brahms's POV:

I couldn't help myself-I couldn't just leave her alone after she made me cum that much; that'd be unfair to me, and I'm sure she would've understood. I even waited for her to fall asleep because I cared for her. I was a good boy to her.

I sneaked into her room via a loose plank behind a lamp and watched her sleep peacefully. She did look a bit tense, but she had heard me, so I understood. She looked beautiful either way; her hair looked soft and fresh, her eyelashes were incredibly long, and her lips were hydrated and plump as if they wanted to be kissed. I held myself in, though; I didn't know if she was a vast sleeper or not.

After a while, I decided to go up to her and watch her more intently, yet her smell made me do more than I had intended. She smelled incredible; a mix of sweets and flowers. I couldn't help but take hold of her hair and smell it; it felt like silk to my hands, and the strong scent of vanilla made me almost lose my self-control.

I noticed her body language had changed since I walked up to her; her shoulders lay more comfortably, and her breathing had slowed down. It looked like she relaxed because of my presence. That was clearly a silent invitation for me to join her, something I obviously didn't decline.

I slowly moved away from her blanket as I stepped into her bed, as silent as possible. I didn't want to wake her. She turned slightly, which made me stop in my tracks, but it quickly became clear she wasn't planning on waking up soon.

I continued with my plan until I lay close behind her. I put my face in her neck, but I couldn't help continuing to smell her; she was addicting. I watched the silent movements she made as she slept. It wasn't my fault when I got hard again when she brushed her behind against my crotch; that little touch even made her moan slightly.

I brushed my fingers over her hips, following the line of her curves as I continued smelling her. She made me feel so needy as if she were teasing me on purpose. But I didn't touch her more than that; I only touched myself carefully so as not to wake her up.

I imagined being allowed to touch her, to hear her moan again, but this time my name; she needed me to touch her as badly as she made me need to touch myself. To beg for me, to tell me how good I made her feel-

Y/N's POV:

You were surprised to find a small note from Brahms again on the kitchen table when you took him downstairs. You hadn't gotten one in a while. These little interactions were the things you enjoyed about your insane situation-the things that made me feel less alone yet not scared; he was truly the most innocent and kind boy you had ever met.

I apologise if I scared you last night, Y/N. I couldn't sleep last night, so I decided to get a glass of water. xx Brahms

You smiled at the note before you looked back at the boy you were babysitting, telling him he didn't have to worry and absolutely didn't need to feel bad. You even asked him if he wanted you to lay with him for a while before leaving in hopes of preventing another sleepless night.

After you asked him the latter, you heard a small giggle, a confirmation that it was indeed something he wanted. It made you smile and feel proud that a little boy felt safe in your presence, and somewhere it made you feel safe as well.

So that's what you did when the clock struck 7 o'clock and it was time to bring Brahms to bed. You clothed him, put him under the covers, and sat next to him. You read him a chapter of the book you were reading together and ended the routine with a soft kiss on his porcelain lips. Even though you felt safe with him close to you, you couldn't help but bring Gregory and a few other plushies with you. You were tired and afraid you'd accidentally fall asleep next to him, but you were sure he wouldn't mind.