"I've stared at you enough, haven't I? But you, your body, it makes me want to do all kinds of sinful things to you. Before long, I imagine us going at it like bunnies in the storage room, but I control myself. Good things come with time, after all...
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"Bite me babe, you make me love the pain."
~F
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I don't remember arriving at your dorm again, just the red fuzz that surrounds it. I walk with purpose up to your door as my fingers tap my belt to no rhythm in particular, perhaps in a certain nervousness that I have yet to identify; it's been a while since I've used it.
You're so close, I can almost smell you in the air. Jasmine tea on a rainy day, maybe the dust of eons-old fairies linger near you like your personal servants, waiting, knees bent, to be of service.
I want your frozen beauty to be marred by my claws. To be a reminder that you will never escape me.
The knock on hardwood sounds harsh even to my own ears, but before I can retract it, you swing the door open with an irritated click of the tongue. Your eyes start at my feet, then work themselves up to my face, where they come to rest in an expression of shock. For my eyes contain a feral hunger you've never seen before, something that draws the blood to your naval yet scares you at the same time.
"Taehyung! Wha-" The next words never come as my lips latch onto yours, licking and biting the soft flesh that I've marked as mine. Your muffled protests turn into moans that send savage shivers down my spine, one that racks my psyche for an explanation of what it's doing in your room again.
Nothing's changed in the last few hours, all except for me. Every molecule in my body has been replaced with something so comfortingly alien, it's almost as if I was meant to be this way all along.
Your reckoning was near. I only had to deliver it.
My head rushes when I pick you up and hear your soft squeals. It takes me back to the storage room, a memory so distant that I sink my nails into your thighs to keep myself tethered to this reality. Already, I feel your desperate movements along my hips as they create the friction that you can't get enough of.
"You want it rough, huh?" you ask between kisses, and I don't bother to dignify you with an answer, biting down harder on your lip. So close to drawing blood. My jeans become unbearably tight, and you can sense it between your thighs, the heat itself drawing patterns across your flushed skin.
Beyond you, I glance between the couch and the countertop to pick the latter. It bears your weight on the cold granite, singeing you as much as fire would have. The brain clicks and whines in your head as it picks up on the slight change in energy, but you continue exploring my body with curious fingers as if you were a virgin feeling everything for the first time, as if we didn't go through the motions just this morning.
But I don't want sex for the sake of it this time. I don't know what I want in particular, only to let part of you crumble with me.
I tear at your clothes with abandon, ripping off your top to find that you're wearing a lace bra. My eyes flick up to yours in muted surprise, and you shrug.
