Teacher's pet

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 25

WE DID END up being the only ones in the family box. It was a surreal experience since the rest of the large theatre was packed to a seat.

The show was amazing. I'd heard about Tristan Vega's magic shows. They were elaborate and show stopping, but if anything the rock concert was understated, show wise. It was just the band on the stage, music perfectly amplified, sounding as good if not better live as they did recorded.

The lead singer's voice was weathered in the best way-deep, but emotional, beautiful.
It was a wonderful experience, and more wonderful was Taehyung hugging me from behind throughout most of it. I couldn't stay in my seat, instead stood at the rail, and he was right there with me, kissing my neck, the top of my head, lacing his fingers with mine.

We got home late, but I was anything but tired.

I was the opposite. Restless and wired. Being out with him, not hiding anything had been a heady experience, a sharp glimpse into how I wanted things to be.

He led me straight to his bedroom with a firm hand at my nape. I'd taken to staying in there every night, though I kept all my things across the house in my room. I didn't want to push my luck. I was constantly in a state of worry that he'd realize he was too good for me and kick me out of his bed or even his house.

When I was being logical I knew that wasn't something he'd do, but my whole life had taught me not to trust any feelings of safety, that they were always temporary and usually ended with me being worse off than I'd started. It was hard to reprogram a gut instinct that ran so deep inside of you that it had helped form most of your core belief system.
I shook off the dark thoughts. I was good at that and being anywhere near Taehyung made it easy. He was my very favorite distraction.

We got to his room, and he kept walking until we stood directly next to his bed. One of his hands gripped my hair, angling my head for better access. He kissed the side of my neck, his other hand on my belly, rubbing low.

"Let me show you something," I said, and it came out as a pant. He knew how to get me going with a few simple touches now. He'd somehow learned my body better than I could ever hope to.

He bit the lobe of my ear oh so softly and I shivered, head to toe.
When he didn't say anything, I made myself take a few steps away from him. I kicked off my shoes.

He just watched me, quirking a brow.

Never breaking eye contact, I peeled myself out of my dress slowly, seductively, until all I was left in was the wicked little piece of lingerie. I fingered one of the little flowers that barely covered my nipple. "Do you like it?" He was silent for a time, but that didn't mean he wasn't communicating.

He had a half-mad look in his eyes. They were alive and alight with a deep need that told me everything I wanted to know.

He moved behind me again.

His voice was hot velvet on my nape. "I like it so much that I think I'll tear it to pieces while I'm fucking you and then buy you a dozen more." I shut my eyes, leaning back against him.

"I wish you would," I breathed.

His hand was on my hip, a possessive grip. "I told myself all night that I was going to make love to you slowly for once, but I don't think it's going to be like that. You're irresistible, you know that?" I opened my mouth to answer, but my breath was stolen from me as he whipped me around by the shoulders, picked me up, and threw me roughly onto the bed.

I hadn't caught my breath yet when he was on me and over me, his big hands parting my legs, his hips fitting between.
"You're wet," he said thickly. He reached a hand down, his fingers stroking over me, gathering the moisture. He held it where I could see."You're ready for my cock. Is this all for me?"

"Yes," I breathed.

"You're always wet for me, aren't you?" his words were more of a statement in the form of a question.
I looked down. His dick was already out of his slacks, pushing against my entrance.

"Yes," I gasped. The wide crest of his cock pushed into me with that slow, slick, sweet, thick glide I'd become addicted to.
Our eyes locked and he started to move, pumping in and out of me in heavy punches of his hips, his balls slapping loudly against my ass.

He never looked away from me, not for an instant.
It felt so intimate, it made my eyes sting with tears. I loved him so much, and somehow everything he did to me, even if it had nothing to do with love, only made that love grow.
"Please," I whimpered at him.

He knew what I was asking for.

It flipped a switch in him. A switch he'd only ever switched for me. His thrusts stuttered for a moment, the skin around his cheekbones taut with strain.

His fists had been on either side of my head as he braced himself over me. Now one reached down and ripped one of the roses off my nipple, then pinched me roughly.

His thrusts went from a smooth pump into a hard jounce that made my whole body jerk with each motion. My breasts bounced with every measured jolt.

He spoke all the while, rough filth pouring out of his mouth, bathing me -my preferred aphrodisiac. "Fucking take it," he grunted. Thrust. "Fuck toy." Thrust. "My perfect little whore." Thrust. "Cum vacuum." Thrust. "Mine." Thrust. Only mine." Thrust. "Fucking mine. Say it."

I came with a hoarse cry. Nothing got to me faster than his words, and moreover, his rough demands of ownership.
He wasn't finished, didn't even pause. He brought my arms above my head, holding my wrists.

I loved it when he did that, trapping and subjugating me to his ruthless will, then eventually, his generous mercy.His other hand ripped the other embroidered rose off my nipple, hand gripping the soft flesh roughly.

His strokes never slowed, but got harder, more frenzied.
He stamped his pleasure into me, stirring my insides into his shape in a harsh, relentless tempo as he grew close to his own release."Fucking say it," he growled.

"Yours," I cried, and toes curling, I came again.

He followed with a tormented groan.

He stayed on top of me and in me after. It was a habit of his that I loved,as though, even spent, he couldn't bear to tear himself away.

Eventually he bent and kissed me as he dragged himself out.
"I'll draw us a bath, pet," he murmured and went into the other room.

This was possibly my favorite part of it all, when he tended to me with tender focus after we finished.
I loved the attention. No one ever took care of me like he did. No one else took care of me at all, since my parents passed.

He was stripped bare when he came back in the room.
I didn't bother to move. I let him carry my limp self into the bathroom and lower me slowly into the hot water.
He joined me, sliding in behind me. It was a big tub, but he dominated it to the point I was always surprised we both fit.

He washed me, and I didn't lift a finger to help. I could fall asleep right here, and I knew he'd get me to bed with no trouble. Another pattern we'd fallen into.

He stroked my breasts, nibbling at my neck. I wasn't sure I could stay awake for another round, but for him I'd try.
I don't know why I said it, why I thought of it then. I think it was just what came out when I was trying my hardest not to say I love you to him yet again, and instead managed to say something even worse.

"It's alright if you hurt me," I told him, voice catching. "I'm figuring on it. It's worth it-the pain-to feel like this."

He hummed out a little distressed noise into my ear. "Don't say that,pet. I have no intention of hurting you. Don't you know I'd never do that?" I didn't tell him he wouldn't do it on purpose.

Pain was just the natural conclusion to any relationship where only one of you was in love.

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