#1 Of Blood and Bonds.
"You want me to touch you?" He questions, a brow quirked and I nod wordlessly. The feeling of his fingers applying pressure, silently coarse me into using my words.
"Yes."
He hums again, taking a step back and slipping off his...
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Some scenes may not be suitable for readers under the age of eighteen.
𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒕𝒊
❝We all are bad in someone's story.❞
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The morning sun gently filters through the balcony glass doors of Xavier's bedroom as my eyes flutter open. I find myself cuddled into his hard chest, his large arm wrapped securely around me. We must have drifted to sleep like this, our bodies entwined and tangled in warmth.
As I blink the sleep away from my eyes, I find myself studying his features as he slept peacefully. My eyes trace the lines of his lips- the pink plump flesh forming a slight curve as he slept. His long, dark eyelashes, and the faint stubble growing on his cheeks. His nose has a slight crook, but it only added character to its perfectly straight profile. Even in his slumber, his jaw remained clenched, a sign of the burden he carried.
My fingers trace the tattoos that adorn his skin, each telling its own story. I have often wondered what each of them signifies, and now in the intimate stillness of this morning, I am suddenly drawn to study them more closely. The dark ink on his body reveals a narrative, one I wish to eventually uncover. I trace a small letter A written in cursive at his side.
Staring up at the peacefully sleeping man, I decide to wake him up, the urge to ease myself suddenly growing in my bladder, "Xavier?" My voice is barely more than a breath of air. He remains in deep sleep, refusing to be stirred. I call his name once again and gently shake his shoulder, hoping to get him to wake up. Yet, he remains undisturbed.
"Xavier, I need to use the bathroom!"
Frustration wells up inside me, and without thinking, I resort to more drastic measures. I lift my knee and nudge him in the ribs, a final attempt to awaken him from his sleep. Albeit, in that moment, everything changes.
His reflexes are lightning-quick. He grabs onto my arm and twists it, causing me to cry out in pain. The sudden, searing ache subconsciously brings tears to my eyes as I realize my impulsive action had unforeseen consequences- defensive and violent consequences. In his groggy state, his eyes eventually widen as he registers the pain he has inadvertently caused. He releases my arm as if it's burned him while I cradle the sore limb, glaring at him in pain and frustration. "Are you insane?"
