𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

terrifying- james

It was odd, not at all uncomfortable, but nothing you'd ever allowed yourself to experience- James was always touching you, always finding an excuse to have his hands on you, have your body against him but this was something new, daring, terrifying. You'd found yourself underneath him, hovered over, held so carefully, so delicately, like his touch could shatter you and you felt like it could. Never had you allowed yourself such vulnerability, such openness with anyone before and you were a wreck.

James wouldn't mind, in fact, as you knew him you were sure he'd absolutely love it, love the feeling of your warm skin, love exploring every dip and curve, allowing his fingers to linger and trace the translucent stretchmarks that were etched into the soft flesh- not for any other reason than the fact that he was completely in love with you and you were in love with him, so why did it feel so scary letting him see you, all of you.

"I missed you," he breathed, a hand drawing shapes on your back, your shirt shifting lightly under his movements, threatening to expose your stomach if he continued and he did, and it did and you froze, he paused.

"You saw me yesterday," you informed him and he simply hummed, hand lowering slightly and despite yourself, you let him- it was scorching the feel of his fingers brushing over your bare skin, and you hoped he'd not notice how tense you were, how rigid, your bare back would inevitably lead him to your sides and then your stomach and up. "Jamie," your voice was soft, too soft, making him stop, and how very surprising when your body ached at the absence of his hands. "Don't stop, just-" you nuzzled into him, hiding your face in his neck breathing him in, working up the nerve, the courage. "Just, slow," you clarified, muffled by his skin. He understood, of course, he did, he'd be a fool not to understand your heart, your body, it was something he prided himself on- understanding things you thought you were hiding, thought you were being subtle about but you were anything but.

"Slow," he agreed and kissed the top of your head and it was electric, sort of trancing in its motions the way he moved so lightly, barely there, almost convincing you he wasn't touching you at all, simply a figment of your imagination, a wild dream too realistic to be real. Never did you think you'd find someone who not only accepted the parts of your body you deemed unworthy of being explored but someone who embraced them, somehow ignoring them completely because it wasn't this great big unmentionable thing you'd built it up to be, it was simply you, you in all your entirety and it didn't matter, not to him. "I love you," it was a reminder as his hand slipped up your shirt, as his kisses moved down your cheek, to your jawline, your neck.

"You do?" as if you didn't know, as if you couldn't feel it in his fingertips, in his palms where he cupped your rolls, squeezed the very doughy flesh you'd hid from him, in the gentle dampness of his kisses as they spread over your collar bone. "You really do," you agreed, tilting back your head into his pillow to make him look at you, take in the sight of your burning cheeks, eyes dipped with such adoration James felt his heart ache, his whole body ached at the idea that this was the first time you could be sure of something he thought you deserved more than anyone he'd ever met.

"More than anything," he informed you and he couldn't hide the smirk that sifted over his lips when you moved your leg over his, forcing him closer, tucking him in, his hand moving at its own accord as he gently cupped your bare thigh, then over the pair of boxers he'd borrowed you to very greedy cup your bum in his large hands. You didn't know why you nodded, it was less agreement and more surrender, as if you'd given up a fight within yourself, you'd laid yourself bare, emotionally, nearly physically, and he loved you still, wanted you still- more even and it was still terrifying, but it was a fear worth facing.