Arven x Reader (He's too cute to be jerking off to porn REUPLOAD)

Chapter 2.1

A shiver runs from the back of your neck, down to your tailbone. Making a strong attempt not to freeze up you disregard any concern you harboured earlier and jolt to face him. Is he fucking with you?

No. No, he is not.

His expression is sincere, though it lacks any confidence. The color of his skin; comparable to that of an overly ripe apple. You can't imagine you look any better, though Arven's equally flushed face provides you with an odd comfort. A lengthy moment of contemplation — possibly equivalent to a mere few seconds — leads you to consider pinching yourself, you're sure as hell not in a concious state, unless what you just heard was simply an error on his part. No, this can't possibly be real, maybe he's been a figment of your imagination from the start?

Arven straightens his back, looking far more real than anything your mind is capable of fabricating, before glancing off to the side. "You said you wanted to... like... you wanted to-, olvídalo. I'll let you, is what I'm trying to say." His eyelashes flutter in a way you'd only expect from a pretty girl, a stark contrast to his tensed up expression.

Though it's possibly mutual, you're overwhelmed by how immensely wrong and unnatural this feels. For starters, you've developed quite the detestation towards his guts, so really, you'd just be using him to chase your own amusement, which would make you what? An awful person? He'd be using you as well, but that only helps further doom your friendship, proving it to be a horrible idea. And let's not even get started on what might happen if you go too far. Ugh, why are you rethinking this now?

Gathering your thoughts, you mutter out what you can, being helplessly lost in his stupid blue eyes. "Now? You want to...go all the way... right now?" Your voice is far more muted than you want it to be.

Arven seems unsure of it himself, subtle beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "I mean... that's what I thought-, uhm. D-do I really need to spell it out for you?" His brows furrow ever so slightly, clearly neither of you find this to be coming along naturally. Maybe it's for the best if you don't act on it? You feel yourself tense up, not entirely comfortable with how close you are to him, especially with that god awful attitude of his, yet wanting nothing more than to close every gap between the two of you. Why is he suddenly okay with this? You know he doesn't like you, well, maybe he does find you — sexually — appealing, in which case he's been exceptionally good at concealing how he feels around you. Perhaps it's a newfound attraction, like yours? You continue dwelling, eventually vocalizing your curiosity. "Why are you–... Why me?" Every word leaving your mouth is doomed to be butchered in some way, you can't even hear your own voice over the deafening death rattle of your confidence crumbling. Arven's eyes narrow, the corners of his mouth tugging in an unknown direction before synchronising into a forced smile. "You're... pretty?" His face takes a turn for cherry pink once again as he backs up ever so slightly, so his blonde waves brush past his shoulders. He could've possibly fabricated that — not that it sounds like complete bogus (it does), but you'd rather not dwell on it, knowing it could very well put an end to your self image. Deciding not to think of it doesn't go as well as you hope, though, you feel your eyes drift lower, lidding in the process. You don't give a crap about what he thinks, why is this bothering you in the first place? Maybe he's desperate to feel the touch of a woman, something you won't deny him if he's honest with you. But why did he have to sound so insincere? He's nervous, right? That's it, then?

You're brought back down to earth from the mental plane by Arven's voice, it's low in tone, though you can't make out what he's yapping about, still hazy from your lengthy moments of overthinking every little detail. Locking eyes with him, you realize he stopped talking, his expression signaling for you to respond. You part your lips, nothing but a hushed sigh making it past your lips before he interrupts you. "Forget it. Why are you prying so much, anyway? I could ask you the same, no?"