Tomorrow is a blur for everyone but not for her.
She knows too well that her future is just a repeat of her past.
Bloody. Cold. Bruised.
Will she risk to have that tomorrow again just to treasure the blink of happiness before it wilts to nothing...
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I tumbled with the weight of his stare. There on his arms I fell. With his kisses I succumbed to temptation.
~ Memory Journal: The scholar page 10 ~
. . . ○ ○ ○ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ○ ○ ○ . . .
Namjoon curses as colder water cascades down his body. Yet he doesn't flinch away. He desperately needs it to quell the heat raging within. However, no matter how he adjusts the temperature to the freezing cold, it doesn't do a thing.
He is so damn hard, it's beyond embarrassing.
He didn't plan the date in his own apartment to jump on her the moment his gaze lands on her.
No.
He's not an animal that is consumed with instincts. He doesn't only think of sex... of pulling her to his bed, and take her with a primal growl. Yet, here he is.
Blame it on the way water drops on her glistening skin, flushed from the warmth of her bath. She's a siren even without trying.
Her eyes seemed to call for him. Her lips. The dainty curve of her collarbones peeking through his fluffy robe.
That damn robe.
Seeing her almost swallowed by his robe... his own clothes, looking so petit and nimble, yet so devastatingly beautiful, his resolve unfolded.
He wanted nothing else to cross the threshold between them and devour her whole. Good thing he was able to stop himself, resorting to embracing her and inhaling her scent to soothe his restless heart.
For once again, he felt how it is damn great to be alive.
He touches his solid cock as it strains erect on the memory of her softness.
He closes his eyes, helplessly sighing on their soul melt activating the second their skin touched.
Seeing her and touching her was an entirely different thing. Electricity courses through every synapses. His brain almost short circuited. He couldn't think anything else but filth. And worst, his cock immediately stood in ceremony.
Fuck.
He is so fucking hard.
He reminisces on how she felt... How she whimpered against his hold... How she melted on his chest... The flutter of her stomach... As he pumps himself, praying to—
"Joonie?" Her worried voice resounds through his being, making him groan.
Fuck. He trembles, fingers still pumping himself.
A knock and another soothing call. "Joonie?"
He internally groans, not because she interrupts him, but because it is her. The real her. Not a mere illusion. That she is just a door away, with his robe.
