Gold Dust || JJK

43 - Miss Right

Jungkook

The feeling when you crack your neck, but not when you do it on a daily basis. Just that one time when the tension and soreness are unbearable and screaming through your pores to release them.

That single action that can open all your chakras, running in your veins almost as strong as an orgasm.

That's the feeling I have, combined with a deep-rooted desperation, to see Faye.

Fucking oxygen for my lungs because her presence hits like ecstasy.

I did not tell her I was already in town in order to surprise her, but Yoongi's plans with the new music video fucked up my schedule so bad that I am now afraid she might be sleeping.

It's five minutes past eleven, and the streets are clear and quiet in a domestic comfort that calms down the aching sensation in my lower lip. Fucking Namjoon may be better with words than with fists, but he got that one surprisingly well.

It's six minutes past eleven, and my feet get itchy on the gas pedal, urging me to break one or two laws to get home faster. In case Faye may not be awake, I'd still have the chance to watch her sleep, which has become my favorite activity since she returned from Thailand.

It's seven minutes past eleven, and the coffee I drank half an hour ago is doing its magic, rushing up the adrenaline in my body and preparing me for a sleepless night. I don't care if I need to sacrifice a few nights to finish the video.

After all, it's my fault I did not take care of it sooner and got everything out of hand.

Eight minutes past eleven, and I slowly slide the door of my apartment, prudent not to make any noise. Gently closing the door behind me, I stroll down the dark hallway with excited and quick steps.

There is no single light in the house, and for a second, I wonder if Faye is actually here or not until I hear a moan coming from the bed. Veering around the kitchen table, I hurry to check on her and see her scrambling on the bed, pulling the sheet over her chest.

"What the hell?" she whispers, throwing away her phone, "You did not tell me you're coming home today."

I narrow my eyes and freeze on the spot.

My eyes fall down her body, her hard nipples poking through her (my) T-shirt, as one bare leg is arched up. I drift my gaze and notice the curve of her hip, completely naked with no signs of underwear.

What the actual fuck?

I reach down to make sure my assessment is accurate and grab the sheet to remove it, seeing that she's indeed bottomless. No pants. No panties.

"You're naked." I straighten, uncertainty crawling my skin, "Why are you naked?"

She snatches the sheet back to cover herself, a rosy blush striking her cheeks, but she doesn't reply, and I don't wait for an answer. I walk to the living room area and twist my head left and right so fast that my neck could crack on its own, wondering who the fuck is here with her.