Timeless Obsession

Ep 33: Anger/Fight

(Day 125rd) (December 29) 

Winter's P.O.V

It was early in the morning, and the first light of dawn filtered softly through the curtains, casting a gentle glow across the room. I was sitting up, my back against the headboard, as Jimin lay asleep in front of me. Her head rested on my lap, her silken hair splayed out like a dark halo, and her body nestled comfortably between my legs. The warmth of her skin seeped through the thin sheets that barely covered her half-naked form, a remnant of our shared intimacy from the night before.

Her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, each breath a quiet whisper in the tranquil morning. The blanket, now loosely draped over her, failed to hide the soft curves of her body. My fingers traced absent patterns on her bare shoulder, feeling the smooth, cool texture of her skin.

Last night, her vulnerability had surfaced, raw and unguarded. The weight of her emotions had pressed heavily upon her, and in search of solace, she had turned to me. Her need for distraction had been intense, consuming. She had pulled me into a fervent embrace, our lips meeting in a series of desperate, heated kisses. The taste of her lingered on my lips even now, a sweet reminder of our passion.

We had made love with a fervor that bordered on the frantic, a dance of bodies and souls seeking refuge in each other. Every touch, every caress had been a silent promise, a vow of support and understanding. Her hands had roamed over my body, exploring, claiming, as if to anchor herself in the reality of our connection. The night had stretched on, filled with whispered confessions and shared breaths, until exhaustion finally claimed us.

As I watched her now, so peaceful in her slumber, I felt a deep, protective love swell within me. She had given herself to me, in all her rawness and need, and I had held her through it all. The room was filled with the lingering scent of our shared night, a mixture of sweat and desire, mingling with the fresh scent of morning.

Gently, I brushed a strand of hair from her face, marveling at her beauty, at the trust she had placed in me. The world outside could wait. For now, this moment was ours, a quiet interlude in the symphony of our lives.

She stirs awake, her eyelids fluttering as she opens her eyes, squinting against the bright morning light that floods the room. The sunlight creates a halo around her, casting soft, warm hues across the bed.

"Morning, Jimin~" I whisper gently, my voice soft and soothing.

She looks up at me, her eyes still heavy with sleep. The redness and puffiness from last night's tears are evident, her eyes bloodshot and swollen, a silent testament to the emotional storm she weathered. Her morning voice, raspy and fragile, carries a hint of vulnerability as she murmurs, "Morning."

Reaching out, I gently caress her cheeks, my thumb brushing away the remnants of dried tears. Her skin feels warm and soft beneath my touch. Leaning in, I press a tender kiss to her forehead, letting my lips linger for a moment, hoping to convey the comfort and reassurance she needs. The intimacy of the gesture is a silent promise: I am here, and you are not alone.

"Do you want to get up now and eat breakfast?" I ask softly, my voice barely above a whisper.