#trace thfl

He knew it was wrong.

Trace knew that it was wrong, so so wrong as he stood there grasping your spare stolen apartment key as he shakily unlocked the door, his head jerking and swivelling around every time he heard noises coming from your neighbours across the hall. You were so annoyed when you had found out that you’d lost your spare key, and he hoped that you’d find it in your heart to forgive him for it one day.

He knew it was wrong that he knew your daily schedule, that you’d be out doing your grocery shopping for the week today at your usual shop of choice halfway across the town for a few hours, leaving him plenty of time for him to summon the courage to enter your welcoming abode whilst you were away.

Yet he still pressed forward, taking short, shaky steps forward like that of a newborn deer as he entered your small apartment, stifling a groan as the smell of you was immediately caught by his keen nostrils. Before he got too overwhelmed, he locked the door behind him and let out a shaky breath, running both hands against his flushed sweaty face and through his fluffy ginger hair.

He felt like he was in heaven.

He was well and truly surrounded by you; all the little quirks that made you…well, you, were laid before him just for his eyes only, and he swore to himself that he would commit this sight to his memory. The way you organised your furniture, the pictures and little knick-knacks here and there, the homeliness of it all…he’d just need to visit a little more often, just to make sure that his memory of your save haven was correct in his mind.

He walked over to the little makeshift kitchen area you had- dishes were piled in the sink ready to be cleaned and your drinks glasses were on the side of the sink waiting to be cleansed after the plates. He sighed to himself, picking up one of the glasses, looking at it experimentally.

Then, his eyes homed in on the delicious sight of your lip reside at the rim of the glass, painting the otherwise dull glass with your mark. He swallowed thickly, bringing the glass closer to his own face. The glass fogged with each depraved breath he took, but the shape of your lips remained on the glass like the shape of your entire being remained within the inside of his head. Licking his lips, he brought the cup up to his mouth and kissed around the mark your gorgeous lips left for him, before licking around it and groaning.

An indirect kiss.

The best he was going to get for a while as he figured out how to win your heart.

He leant against the counter panting madly as he felt himself grow wetter with each kiss and lick that he gave the glass desperately wishing that the fragile and hard coolness of the glass would one day be replaced by your soft and sweet trembling lips against his own hungry ones.

After removing your essence from the glass, he quickly ran it under your tap and dried it on a piece of nearby cloth to remove his marks from it, and with a barely supressed shudder he thought of you drinking from that very glass, completely unaware that his lips and spit had claimed it for another indirect kiss…

His eyes began to roam around your domain yet again, however, still eager to take in any and all of your essence that he could, and his eyes settled on your messy nest of a bed. His lips quirked up into a small smile, gazing at the adorable little mess that you’d left your bed in; a bundle of blankets and a quilt were screwed together from where you’d thrown them off that morning, alongside several soft plush toys that sat by your pillows. It looked incredibly comfortable, and Trace wished he could be snuggled up in this little bed with you pressed up against his large, muscular frame.

Trace knelt by the bedframe, slowly reaching out for the crumpled pillow that had an indent from where you had slept soundly against it. He dragged his large fingers down the soft fabric, and unable to hold himself back any longer, he thrust his head in the indent to inhale your sweet scent.

Heat shot straight between his legs and right into his core- your pillow smelt divine. He recognised the scent of your favourite shampoo as he thrust his nose against the plushness, desperately trying to take in your scents, and the more he inhaled deeply, the more he could smell the faint smell of sweat, your sweat, your beautiful scent that he wished he could breathe in whenever he wanted, your sweat that he wished he could lap up from your gorgeous skin…and alongside that, he could smell the faint traces of the lavender washing detergent that he had used from when he had washed your clothes and bedlinen for you a few weeks back.

He pulled away, panting heavily as he nuzzled his bearded chin against the pillow. He laid one single kiss in the little indent, then tried his best to reposition the pillow back to where it was so that you’d be none the wiser.

He shuffled around on the floor, moving his hands onto the little carpet before your bed to keep himself steady, only to find himself freezing as he felt something with a much different texture to the carpet. He covered his mouth as he let out a whine, his eyes widening like saucers from behind his rapidly fogging up glasses as he stared at what was underneath his large hand- a pair of your underwear. Right there. Below his hand. Touching his skin. His. Skin.

He knew it was wrong but didn’t care as he hastily stuffed the cute little shorts into the pocket of his jeans, staggering up as he struggled to find and hold your stolen key between his fingers. Just as quickly as he entered, he left, making sure to lock up behind him so that your wonderful little world would be accessible to nobody else but you and him.

He practically sprinted back to his apartment building, desperate to get back home to he could alleviate the painful throbbing from between his legs that sent pulses to every nerve in his body. People stared at him as he raced down the busy streets, but he didn’t care- he was a man on a mission, and he needed to get home as fast as he could.

Finally, he entered his block of flats, and took the elevator up to his floor; usually he’d walk up the fight of stairs, using it as a nice pre-workout, but right now he couldn’t care, he needed to be home and in bed as soon as possible. Speedwalking across to his door he quickly unlocked and locked the door and raced off to his bedroom.

The familiar sight of his four-poster bed filled him with relief as he took off his shirt, crawling onto the incredibly soft mattress. He let himself sink into it, pulling out your underwear from his trouser pocket before discarding of the jeans too.

With one hand Trace immediately put the underwear against his face, groaning as he found his other hand slipping its way under the elastic band of his boxers, travelling and grazing against his thick pubes as his hand found its way to his erect clit. He moaned unashamedly, setting a fast pace as his large digit circled his clit. He wished that you could be sitting on his face right now, using him for your own pleasure, rubbing yourself against his sharp angled face and his delicious feeling facial hair…

He poked his tongue out, lapping at your essence that you’d left in your underwear; you tasted so sweet against his ravenous tongue, and he swore to himself that he would taste and sample your forever if he ever got permission from you. He stopped circling his throbbing nub to peel away his underwear from his now sweaty clammy skin, and his hand resumed the fast rapid circling it had been doing before.

He moved his other hand towards his dripping cunt, swiping up a copious amount of his slick with his forefinger and his middle finger in order to lube them up, and his fingers glided deep within his pussy with barely any resistance. He groaned deeply, the sound reverberating within his large chest and began sucking at the now soiled and spit-soaked underwear and he pistoned his fingers in and out of his hole, the stimulation from his clit making his pussy clench and twitch around his fingers.

God he wished that your fingers were in him instead, he wished that you could just nestle in between his thighs and just use him for your pleasure, he wished he had you, he wished that you wanted him…but that would come soon, he knew it, he would break down your walls one way or another and would make you fall for him, make you come undone for him. He would have you, own your heart, and you would own his.

You would both become one.

The rapid thoughts and the repeated rambling of your name tumbling from his lips began to make a coil within his core tighten, and his fingers began to pick up speed. He didn’t care about the noise, about the frankly whorish way he was moaning for you and the slick squelches that his cunt was producing, he wanted the world to know how much he loved you.

And with that, the coil snapped.

White hot pleasure rippled through him as he felt his walls grip and spasm against his thick fingers, and he curled them up against the deepest part of him whilst he bucked against his hand. He removed his hand from his clit, overstimulated now, and instead just pressed it against the underwear that covered most of his face. All he could feel right now was the beautiful scent and taste of you and your musk that danced around his hungry maw and nose, and the maddening ripples of pleasure that coursed through his body as his cunt pathetically clenched and twitched around his fingers.

He slowly withdrew his fingers from his dripping wet hole and moved the underwear next to him so that he could lick them clean of his slick. The thought of you shyly licking the slick off his fingers made him flush, but he was knocked down by the sudden pleasant wave of tiredness that washed over him.

He curled up on the covers, panting as he stared at the soaked underwear before him, this beautiful little holder of you and your essences all for him and him alone…he closed his eyes, basking in the warmth of the afterglow, wrapping his arms around a pillow and squeezing it tightly.