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Changbin woke up in a sweat, his body tense and aching from the vivid dream that had haunted him throughout the night. The details of it were still fresh in his mind, the sensations so real that he could almost feel your skin against his even now.
In the dream, everything had been perfect—almost too perfect. You had been with him, the two of you alone in a dimly lit room. The air had been thick with anticipation, every glance, every touch charged with electricity. He remembered the way you looked at him, your eyes dark with desire, your lips slightly parted as if you were waiting for him to make the first move.
He had felt a rush of adrenaline as he closed the distance between you, his hands finding their way to your waist, pulling you flush against him. The moment your bodies connected, it was like a dam had broken. He had been unable to resist you, his lips crashing down on yours in a kiss that was equal parts passion and desperation. The way you had responded, your body pressing eagerly against his, had driven him wild.
In the dream, everything had escalated so quickly. Your clothes had disappeared as if by magic, your skin warm and soft under his touch. He could still remember the way you tasted, the way you moaned his name as he explored every inch of you with his hands and mouth. It was as if all his senses had been heightened, every touch sending shivers down his spine, every breathless whisper of his name making his heart race.
The dream had reached a fever pitch, the two of you tangled together, lost in each other. The intensity of it had been almost overwhelming, the pleasure building to an unbearable peak, and just as he was about to reach that release—he had woken up.
The frustration of being pulled from the dream at the exact moment of climax had been maddening. He had woken up painfully hard, his body aching with need, the emptiness of his bed only making it worse.
He had tried to shake it off, telling himself that it was just a dream, but the lingering desire refused to leave him. The images played on repeat in his mind, the phantom sensation of your touch teasing him all morning. But worse than the dream was the fact that he hadn't seen you all day.
It wasn't for lack of trying. Normally, the two of you would have crossed paths by now, even if just for a moment. But today, it seemed like the universe was conspiring to keep you apart. He had checked everywhere he thought you might be—your usual spots around the dorm, the practice rooms, even the café you liked to visit when you had some downtime—but there was no sign of you.
The absence of you only fueled the tension inside him. The longer the day went on without seeing you, the more his mind drifted back to the dream, the more his body ached for you. It was as if the dream had awakened something in him that wouldn't be satisfied until he had you for real.
By late afternoon, the need had become unbearable. Every thought led back to you, every breath felt heavy with desire. He couldn't take it anymore—he needed to see you, needed to feel you, to touch you, to make the dream a reality.
