cuddling gone wrong

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cuddling.

that's what i said i wanted to do when asked. i was asked what i wanted to do.

cuddle. that was it. i love cuddling. i feel warm and safe and happy. and i get to do absolutely nothing at all.

right now, corbyn and i were laying in bed, watching some wolf documentary i had found on netflix. my back was against his chest, his chin on my head, his arms wrapped around my waist.

i shifted my lower half, trying to get comfy. i found a spot that i thought was comfortable, but i realized it wasn't. i move again, hoping i wasn't bothering corbyn. me trying to get comfortable also meant me moving against him.

after having to move again, corbyn tightens his grip on me.

"stop." he whispers, voice strained.

i push back against him to feel something poking into my ass.

oh.

i flip over in my boyfriend's arms, switching positions so i was straddling his hips.

"is something wrong?" i coo, knowing fully well i was being a tease.

i barely grind against corbyn, causing him to gasp lowly. his hands grip my hips, making me move harder and faster.

"better turn off your show, you won't be watching it anymore." corbyn breathes, smirking.

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