Evolution of a lover's heart | jjk

48

"What?"

"I want you to close your eyes and lean your head back on the couch."

Jeongguk does what he's told without the slightest hesitation. "And now?" he breathes.

"What do you think about when you touch yourself? I want you to imagine that."

"It's always–"

"You don't need to tell me," you assure warmly, and Jeongguk feels your hand come up to rest behind his ear.

It doesn't require much effort, not at all, until he's back in your apartment. Not the one across the street, but your old one. And like always, he imagines what happened between you.

But this time, it's without the guilt devouring him. He doesn't feel like the scum of the earth for thinking about your naked body, doesn't feel like his conscience weighs him down.

He can't quite focus long enough to go through the events in chronological order like he used to, instead, he skips and jumps, from eating you out, to fucking you in various positions, to fingering you, and back. Your quiet praises in his ear only aid the heat that grows in his lower abdomen until he can feel his high seconds away.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come," he rasps, opening his eyes halfway.

Surprisingly enough, like you hadn't thought about the inevitable, your own widen. "Not on the shirt!"

If he wasn't on the brink of orgasmic insanity, he would've laughed at how much you like that particular shirt of his. Instead, he smirks lazily, his mouth half open. "Take it off then. Unbutton it."

Contrasting your careful hands from earlier, you're quick to snap open button after button, starting with the one just under his collarbones. The feeling of your warm hands undressing him doesn't really help him contain himself, and he leans his head back again.

Only a few seconds after you've successfully slid the shirt halfway down his arms, Jeongguk comes. His stomach tenses in bursts and his breaths are shallow as he calls your name, and white after white colors his skin. It paints his stomach and dribbles down his hand.

As he calms, he keeps his eyes shut, focusing on the way your nails card through his hair just behind his ear. It's unbelievable how at peace he feels, and, come to think of it, the last time he felt this good after coming was probably the night he slept with you. There's always been something missing regardless if he fucked someone else or just his fist. And then, the emptiness and/or guilt that always followed.

A wordless minute passes before Jeongguk feels you climb off his lap. It's then that he starts thinking. He should offer to reciprocate, shouldn't he? It's not fair he got to come and you didn't. But although he literally dreams of touching you, he doesn't think he can yet.

Not long after you left, he feels the weight of you on his thighs again as well as a wet towel against his chest. Opening his eyes, he sees you focused on cleaning his skin.

"Can't believe you were gonna sacrifice the shirt."

You're pretending to be upset, but there's a lighthearted joy shining through your pout.

"Can't believe you like it that much. Also it would literally come off in the washer."

The look you give is one of pure offense, and it makes Jeongguk grin. Your hand moves the towel lower, cleaning the stains on his stomach. You roll your eyes. "You know you're handsome in everything, but that kind of blue? The fit? I think I've had at least four heart attacks today just because of you. My heart just stops working."

Jeongguk gazes up at you. He can't believe how in love with you he is, much less that you feel similarly and that you're there, with him.

"Oh my God, I–I'm so sorry."