𝙎𝙩𝙪𝙛𝙛𝙞𝙚 || 𝑩𝒓𝒂𝒉𝒎𝒔 𝑯𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒆 × 𝑭!𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

008 | Sundress

Y/N's POV:

As the days passed, the weather seemed to change significantly. The sky became clearer, the sun came out, the leaves turned green, and the air warmed up. It seemed like a good idea, at least in your opinion, to stay outside most of the day to enjoy the sun. 

Being isolated in such a big house wasn't that much of a deal, but as the weeks passed since you started to live here, you did start to feel as if the walls were getting to you.

Brahms had been outside the walls most days, per your request. At first, he was rather cautious, which was understandable, but it seemed that he got used to you more; sometimes you even wondered if he liked being around you. 

It was clear Brahms wasn't used to much social interaction, and you used that fact to ease your feelings when it came to him. His eyes lingered too long on you from time to time; he came closer than socially accepted and often touched you in rather odd places, which you blamed on him not being aware of his bodily autonomy very well.

That's why you didn't say anything when you came out in a sundress, and Brahms couldn't help but stare at your legs and your bare feet as you walked around the backyard through the grass. You wondered if he knew it was completely fine to walk around like this; you couldn't imagine his parents wearing anything that didn't cover most of their bodies, and you never saw him in short pants either. 

As usual, he didn't speak much; he simply followed you as you walked around the garden, picking up flowers every once in a while. You tried to talk to him by asking him questions about his hobbies, most of which weren't answered.

You took him as an introvert and assumed he wasn't answering your questions because of the beautiful day; you didn't think he'd been out a lot in all the years of hiding behind the walls. It made sense that he would be in awe of the sudden freedom and beautiful weather.

Brahms's POV:

I didn't listen to anything Y/N said in all honesty. Not only because I didn't feel any need to answer most of her questions, but also because she distracted me too much to even think of any answer.

Her dress hugged her perfectly; every curve was shown amazingly, smoothly, and sexily. Her hips moved perfectly in sync as she walked, and even her legs were attractive to me; they guided me to her perfect, cute, soft feet and toes, which got slightly entangled with the grass blades as she moved forward.

She was gorgeous and attractive. I couldn't help noticing my cock hardening as time passed. And Y/N didn't exactly help me anytime she'd bend over to pick up flowers; I would almost see her lacy underwear. It was as if she were teasing me—no, she was teasing me—that being conscious or not could be up for debate.

I held myself in; I was being a good boy to her; it frustrated me; she couldn't see it nor tell me how well-behaved I was; it was infuriating. But I had to wait for the compliment; I had to wait to be rewarded. Y/N had to get comfortable around me and heal from her trauma. At least that's what the books I read from the library said.

That's why I didn't touch her when I couldn't help myself anymore; that's why I ran away and went back inside my walls. I assumed she didn't mind, especially because of the reason why, even though she didn't know.

I made a slight mess as I stormed into my bedroom. I didn't know this was what hormones could do to someone. I've had my fair share of having trouble holding myself in, but this time I actually tried my best, and somewhere I was embarrassed by how much that woman made me feel.

I knew how to deal with this new-found feeling—that need that forced me to get rid of it instead of ignore it—that need to tear apart Y/N's dress and take her as a whole—make her moan at my touch, beg for me, tell me how good I make her feel.

When I stopped walking, I stood in front of my bed, in front of Y/N's doll. She was the closest I could get to hearing her; she wore her underwear, wore her clothes, and even had some of her hair I gathered in her sleep. I was surprised she hadn't noticed it yet.

However, I quickly realised that my brain didn't process the doll in front of me as a doll anymore; I saw her, Y/N, lying on my bed for me to touch, to make me feel good, because I'd been such a good boy for walking away when I couldn't hold myself in anymore.

I pulled my cock out of my pants, which had started to hurt by now and was immediately leaking more pre-cum than it already had while having been hidden in my pants. I watched Y/N as she lay on my bed, softly stroking myself for a while before walking up to her and caressing her waist. I slowly moved my hand down to her thighs before I pushed up the skirt she was wearing. I looked at the black, lacy underwear she was wearing, which was stained by her already.

I moved it away, not being able to hold myself from smelling the piece of underwear I had stolen from her, to then see her beautiful, cute, and tight hole that silently begged for me to fill up, which I did without question.

The moment I filled her hole, I moaned deeply, enjoying the feeling of her walls pushing against my cock, as if wanting to push my cum out to be filled up with it. I quickly picked up my pace as I pumped inside of her, muffling my sounds in the crook of her neck to avoid getting any questions later until I got this overwhelming feeling of pleasure coming over me. I shot the largest amount of cum I've ever had inside of her cute, tight hole before I fell down into my bed out of exhaustion.