#edenwrites

The silence settling between you makes you fidget, wringing your fingers together in your lap as your eyes flicker around the room. Looking anywhere but the man lounging lax before you. His dark eyes piercing, a striking contrast from his lax posture as he leaned back on the couch his arms spread wide against the back.

The thing they never tell you about silence, is that its not only a lack of sound. Its a lack of heat, a void. A coldness that seeps like a whisper caressing you gently the longer the moments stretch on.

"Say it again"

His voice pulls a whimper from you lips, the tender silence shattered in an instant leaving you shivering minutely. You swallow, teeth biting into your lip at the command. Your eyes squueze shut, your head giving a single shake, hair rustling around you. It wasnt a question. There was no option, but still you say nothing.  His voice is firm, no begging in his words. He'd never beg. It's a laughable thought.

It'd been hard enough to push the words from your tongue the first time, embarrassment sitting red upon your cheeks.

You couldn't.

The sheer thought of allowing the words breath yet again was mortifying. Damned be the consequences.

His eyes narrow at your silence.

You feel rather than hear him moving. Feel the heat of him pierce through the ice of the room and slither closer. Each step he takes sending a shiver coursing through you.

"Come on, baby" he coos, the gentle sway of his voice like honey, sticky and sweet, pulling a violent tremble down your spine as he steps in behind you. His feet against the hard wood leaving little more than a near muted knock as his hands find your hips, heavy and hot.

His calloused palms burning like brands through the flimsy cotton of your night shirt as they give a gentle squeeze. Those deft fingers flexing against the meaty flesh as if resisting the urge to squeeze again, only this time rougher. Hard enough to mark you. To leave Him shaped bruises dark against your flesh, a kink of his you'd learned to enjoy early on into the 'relationship'.

He leans in close, lips gazing against your nape in a slow trace, pulling goosebumps to pebble along your skin. You barely swallow down the groan that blossoms. His breath is a whisper behind your ear, sending your mind reeling. The seemingly impenetrable wall you'd built, falling apart, brick by brick. A gut deep longing seeping in, floating through you as he takes the fleshy lobe of ear gently between his teeth.

He gives a playful nip that leaves your spine straightening and your knees trembling, a tiny groan dancing past your lips staining the air, your eyes flutter gently open. Vision hazy as you find the mirror before you. The entire scene playing out  like a movie, and you groan again, your hands reaching up to grab hold of him. Fingers kissing his loose shirt, if only to ground yourself a moment. It was so easy to lose yourself in him.

He chuckles at the sound stepping around, his form towering easily over you. 

"Say it again" he repeats, fingers dancing up your body, wrapping firm round your throat, one deliciously heavy tattooed finger at a time. His gaze heavy and dark as he meets your eyes, staring as your head lulls back, neck exposed.

"S-" you pause, your resolve crumbling all at once, cheeks burning as he forces you to keep your eyes on him, teeth catching against your bottom lip in a vice like grip trapping the words inside.

His reflection is sin, cloacked in darkness and danger. Those dark eye half-lidded and drunk on you, leaving you aching. A smirk pulling at his lips at the way you stammer and flush with nerves. Your body loose in his arms, chest pressed flush against yours a welcome heat from the rooms unforgiving chill as it attempts to grab hold and sink in.

They're right there. You can feel them, those devilishly sinful words resting at the tip of your tongue. Salacious and burning. Such a wicked want. Such a wicked and filthy request.

God, how had the thought even crossed your mind? You couldnt remember but now that it had, it's all that you could think of.

All that you wanted.

A tremble falls through you at the thought. Your tongue peaks out, wetting your lips.

"S-spit in my mouth" you say finally, pushing the words out in a single breath. The words are rushed and slurred, even you barely comprehended the mishmash of sounds that just tumbled from your throat in such an excitement that it made your head spin. But the chuckle that leaves him tells you he heard just fine.

"Dirty girl" he teases, chuckling at the deepening flush coloring your cheeks. The timbre of his voice dark, trembling through you.

A single finger trails across your skin, featherlight and teasing drawing a violent tremble through you. A large warm hand slides to your chin, giving a slight pinch between his thumb and forefinger. The pressure slight, as if in question. A question you answer immediately with the drop of your jaw, mouth falling open with a shuttered breath.

"Alright" he voices, and you sway slightly against him, relief in your bones. You'd been scared there a moment, afraid he thought you odd. Odd enough to pull away, leaving you unfulfilled and wanting.

Instead he grins, a truly sinful thing. All teeth and sharp edges. All lust. And you watch with bated breath as his tongue, that sinful damned tongue, peeks out to ghost across his bottom lip before he speaks.

A small laugh makes it's way out of your chest, forcing him to look over at you. He takes in how your eyes crinkle when you laugh, head thrown back ever so slightly, the way you expose your teeth in a grin, and he's bewitched.

One of your hands comes up to fan your face as you try to calm down your laughter. You glance towards him, cocking an eyebrow curiously, having caught him staring at you. Yuuta's face lights up again, quickly snapping his field of vision away from you, his own embarrassed smile tugging at his lips.

"See something you like?" You flirt, playfully knocking your arm into his, causing him to actually laugh.

"Yeah, I think so." He smiles towards you, his smile, that smile that makes you feel like sunshine.

After another 20 minute walk and some flirty-playful banter, he tugs on your arm and pulls you into what looks like a bookstore. Tall shelves line the room, each cluttered with books of any genre you could think of. You inhale, savoring the comforting dusty smell of old books.

"Oh my god, Yuutaaaa!" You squeal, excitement evident in your voice. A hand of yours instinctively comes to clutch his arm and squeeze gently, the enthusiasm coursing through you. "You know me so well."

Much to his dismay, he can feel his face heating up again at the contact, one of his own hands coming up to rub the back of his neck sheepishly. "This actually isn't even my favorite part."

With a gentle hand, he takes yours and guides you to a set of stairs leading to a lower level of the building. At the end of the stairs, a soft gasp leaves your mouth, awestruck by the sight. The lower level was overflowing with records and CDs, a record player sitting on one of the shelves playing an old 70s love song.

Yuuta glances at you, anxiety obviously overcoming him as he speaks quickly, "I know it's nothing crazy or super exciting, I just normally come here when I want to get away. I thought you might enjoy the whole vibe of this place as well-"

His rambling is stopped in its tracks when you wrap your arms around his neck, effectively pulling him into an embrace. "Yuu, I love it! This is amazing!" The corners of his mouth twitch into a smile, sighing in relief.

The next several hours are spent with both of you bouncing back and forth in conversation over music, books, movies - anything that came to mind. Conversation felt easy with Yuuta, and each lull in said conversation felt comfortable.

Well past when you thought you'd be home, you finally make your way outside the store, noticing that the sun had set. Each of you carried a bag with one book and one record, having decided to pick personal favorites for each other and share.

"I should probably be getting home, Yuu. It's dark and I'm really not trying to deal with weirdos after such a good night," you sigh, not wanting to leave him.

Yuuta catches this easily, softly grasping your hand into his and interlocking his fingers in yours. "Don't worry, I can walk you home," he says easily, flashing you his sunshine smile that never fails to make you weak in the knees. Without thinking about it, you're nodding along in agreement, and he's leading you back home with slow steps.

"I really did have fun tonight, Yuu, thank you for taking me somewhere so special to you," a faint blush creeps up your cheeks, mentally thanking whatever higher power that the only light to acknowledge it were the sparsely placed streetlights.

His eyes catch yours and he chuckles, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. "Why wouldn't I want to share my favorite place with my favorite person?"

At Yuuta's words, the light pink darkens to a scarlet. Too scared that if you speak you'll say something stupid, or your voice will crack, you opt to just hum contentedly in response.

Two pairs of feet tap the stairs up to your front door, and he releases your hand. Arriving home has never felt more tense then it does now, him staring at you, with his ears twinged pink in a blush.

"Well... Uh- I hope you have a good rest of your night, [y/n]," He concludes, starting to spin away from you, mentally cringing at himself for being so awkward.

"Hey, Yuu?" You ask quickly, abandoning your bag on your porch. "Hm?" He turns again to face you, only to find you directly in front of him, breathing a little harder than normal. "Are you oka-"

Navy eyes widen as you softly press your plush lips against his, your hands coming to gently take his face between your hands. Slowly, his eyes flutter shut, letting himself sink into the kiss, silencing any thoughts he had about himself ruining things. His slender fingers find your waist and tenderly hold you, almost as if he let go, you'd vanish like a figment of his imagination.

You pull away first, looking at him with hazy eyes, hands coming to rest delicately on the chest. A love-drunk smile plays on your face as you slowly steady your breath and racing heart.

"Now I will have a good night."

“Do you even want kids?” you say it offhandedly, peeling the face mask from your face. The sweet scent of tea tree tickling your nose. The serum makes your skin sticky, you hate it. But after the day you’ve had you need a little relief, The summer heat always makes your skin so oily.

 The weight of the question is heavy in the air as you ‘tap tap tap’ away, working the serum into your skin, grimacing again. God, you really hated that stuff. It’s so slick and slimy. It was basically sludge.  ‘I'll get better’, you tell yourself. ‘Do it for him’. 

He always bagered you to take better care of your skin, but honestly, half the time you couldn’t be bothered. But if it made him happy, your weekly routine of the both of you crammed in front of your tiny bathroom sink, working through the infamous 10-step skincare routine he swore by, then well. It was worth it.

Your eyes venture to him, in the mirror. 

 Your hope. Your sunshine. The light of your life. 

 And to your surprise, he’s smiling back at you. His lithe form leaning back on the bed, his face dewy from the cream he had just meticulously massaged into his supple skin. For a split second, you couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy, even as you felt your cheeks heat beneath his gaze. The baby faced fuck 

Even though it’d been months since you began living together, you still hadn’t gotten used to it yet. No matter how many nights you spent wrapped up in each other's arms, legs tangled beneath the sheets, skin stuck together with sweat. Hell, he’s even seen your morning face, dark circles, drool dried on your chin, hair sticking up in a million different directions. You grimace at the memory, even you would've run from that. You were sure that would do it, that he would keel over right there, wiping his hands of the  monster he’d shared his bed with for the last few weeks. . . But all he did was smile. 

A gentle smile graced his sleepy face, his beautiful eyes pulled into crescents as he gazed at you as the singing birds from outside filled the silence and the sliver of morning sun cast across his slender chest from the gap of the curtains. A gentle hand coming up to smooth out the inky mess of curls atop your head, a  fondly mumbled ‘Baby’  before pulling you close and pressing his chapped lips against yours as you all but melted against him. He’d seen it all. .  .

So why does it feel like this question is the end all be all? 

Why does this question hang in the air, coiled up so tight like a viper, ready to strike out with its fangs? Why?

Fuck, maybe you shouldn’t have asked it. Already you regret the words that stained the air in the room. You open your mouth, apology already sitting heavy on your tongue, waiting. 

He beats you to it.

 A simple shrug of his thin shoulders, “Sure, maybe one day” You watch as he stands, his lithe form slinking up behind you and wrapping you in his arms. You feel your heart sink at his words, a chill seeping beneath your skin. You fight off a shiver, pressed closer into his warmth.

He smells of citrus, bright, fresh and intoxicating. But underneath that, he smells like something that makes your heart palpitate.

 He smells like home.

He smells like him. Like you. Like the laundry soap you argued about buying in the local supermarket at 3 am months ago. You wanted lavender and he wanted lemon. Needless to say, he’d won that round of rock, paper, scissors. You remember how upset you’d been. Sulking all the way through checkout, and all the way home. The pout not leaving your lips until he pulled you into the bed and delivered a hundred soft kisses upon your skin until you were laughing and out of breath .

 But now, months later, as you sat wrapped in his arms. You couldn’t have been happier. Because, he smelled like home. Bright. Warm. Crisp. Home. 

‘Baby?” A question. 

Concern laced in every letter as it fell from his mouth. His eyebrows pinched as gazes at you through the mirror. Scrawny arms tightening if only slightly. Worried coloring his expression and pulling at his perfect lips. You eyes find the mole hidden upon his top lip out of habit. Your favorite of his beauty marks. 

You feel the tears coming, a tremble wavering in your voice as the words finally push from your throat. Your heart is pounding, so loudly, it’s a wonder he doesn’t hear it. But with how tightly he’s pressed against your back, you know he can feel it. The pounding on your heart against your timid ribcage, threatening to break free. 

“Ba-”

“Hoseok” You cut him off. 

You rarely used his name, and immediately he straightens. His jaw clenched tight. 

It was now or never. 

You force the words out, fighting the way they beg and claw at your throat, wishing to stay hidden away. 

You need to tell him. He needs to know. 

Your pocket is heavy. Heavier than it’s ever been. The tiny piece of plastic feels like it weighs a ton.

Your heart is pounding. 

All you smell is citrus.

 All you feel is warmth. 

All you feel is home. 

Those delicate hands. Large and warm, like the embers of a dying fire, cradling your tear-stained flesh in calloused palms. His thumb, a lithe thing, sweeping across the flushed wet apple of your cheeks. Each ridge tasting your sorrow and pain, each sweep pulling them from your flesh, one graze at a time.

His eyes, dark like onyx, watching. Silently watching, swallowing in the way you tremble in his grasp, caught in the light of him.  Caught in the warmth of the sun shining from his eyes and radiating from his form.

And your shoulders, they shake in the darkness, trapped in the room you both share. The air crisp with spring, leaving wisps escaping your lips with every quiver and moan.

And he watches you. Lips pressed tight in a line as you tremble like the leaves in early autumn and whimper. As you wheeze and sob.

His dark eyes watch until the sobs subside, and the chill of trembles leave your bones. He watches you silent, until you are here.

Present in awe and, and in his arms. Sound in body and mind, your eyes full of tears. 

Then and only then, does he move. Stepping silently into your space. His feet a mere whisper against the wood beneath your feet. His body like a furnace pressing against you.

 And finally, you feel free. 

Free from the pain of the moment. 

Free from the morning, and the night, and the darkness that leaks into your bones with every breath. All consuming and choking within your throat. And in a moment, you're frightened. The feeling too intense. Too consuming. 

Too much. 

Too much. 

Finally, he kisses you. Dark lashes brushing against tan cheeks. Flesh flawless and flushed. Lips plush like a ripe peach, and oh god.

You want to weep.