#tua 1

You asked him in a soft breath. As if a man parched, Five stares, focusing, and as entranced as he can be. 

His eyes always find their way trailing to wherever he pleases. A ‘curious’ look coats his pupils as he unabashedly stares. And you plainly see it, every damn time— he doesn’t even try to hide it. 

He always, always- made himself obvious, as if he was letting you watch himself unfold right in front of you. 

And as you look him in the eye, daring to lick your bottom lip right in front of him. You don’t ask him why he stares, because you’re doing this on purpose. The glint in your pupils was too mischievous, even from you. 

Five has a good eye, that’s something you were- if not, need to be- sure of. 

He notices everything— he just does. It would be stupid to assume he wasn’t keen- observant even. 

Every time his fingers fasten his blazer- his wrists, swivelling as he adjusts his cuffs— or even when he holds something- even just a bottle, it always intrigues you— makes you cast your eyes right to his fingertips, a devilish gleam coats you. 

Honestly, he questions whenever you gawk unto his hands- supposedly, there was nothing much to marvel at. Blunt clean fingernails to keep jobs easier— filled with callouses from working with digging off scraps, adjusting weapons to fit his precision- his knuckles whitening from the amount of times skin has been scraped off and bloodied. 

And yet, you were so enthralled with such a simple thing- to the point that it drives him mad- Insane even, it surprises him on how you could be so interested in something so plain. 

But he would be a liar if he said he wasn’t amused. 

A tingly, warm feeling courses through Five’s veins as if he were some sort of addict, injecting himself with what the world can offer, and in this case, it was need. 

“Of course, angel.” His voice low, it rolls smoothly as if it were silk. 

A realization settled on his part- it was also want. The impulse to feel, to fully caress, he wants to embrace you even closer, to further bind you to his skin— your blood simultaneously pumps through your heart as his syncs with yours. 

The burning itch, as if flames would eat him alive if he dares not to think of it— to not think of pressing his lips up to the back of your neck, or on the crook by your pulse. 

The sheer pure want that settles into his lungs, the urge to breathe you in— He stops himself, letting himself feel you suddenly leave open kisses onto his face, a wind’s touch to clouds; light yet so rousing. 

“That wasn’t part of your deal.” Five teases, you only sigh unto his cheek, chuckling. 

“C’mon- can’t I kiss you out of all people?” Your voice drawls, a raised brow is drawn from your face. It only serves to make him laugh. 

“You don’t even need to ask.” He clarifies, shaking his own head. Your mouth shapes itself like clay, and he only sees your toothy smile— it was genuine; an artisan’s craft, and he merely admires it.  

Your lips press down almost roughly but still so soft as you hold his face by your palms. Your breath tickling his skin as if you were the sun to the sea. And one kiss after another, he was sure you would leave kiss marks, and as much as he hated messes, damn it- he likes it. 

He felt perverted, for liking it this much— your simple kisses bubbled something in his chest, and it was drowning him. 

It was as if something set off in him; a fire fed with fuel, as he felt your fingertips slide further by his ears, right at the crook of his nape.  You lightly caress his head as you leave another kiss right beside his mouth- and he only leans in further. 

His hands slip- wrapping his fingers unto yours as he guides them down from his own face to his upper arms. Your face quivers in confusion, but it fades, his palms hike down to your sides, to your waist— He pulls you close to him, pushing his lips to yours. 

You merely open your mouth, his tongue muffling a sound that escapes your throat— You grip onto his shoulders almost tightly, and his only reaction was a smile that you felt form on your own lips. He lets his hands slither underneath your sweater, caressing so softly to your supple skin. 

And he was sure— that he fell into this trap, letting himself become strung unto the threads of temptation. That this hunger for you has grown as each day passes, and his need to feast merely grows precariously; an invasive weed to a perfect field. 

He presses himself closer to you, throwing you off- and his hands only further skid through the creases of your back— the pads of his fingertips cold compared to the warmth of your skin. He can’t help it— the pure festered desire just can’t quell itself, and all he finds himself wanting is more. 

Adjusting his head, he tilts himself, your teeth bump into each other but he doesn’t mind— he wants this, he needs to be closer- and god— Your hips pressed to his, roughly shifting yourself to match his movements. His pelvis teasingly slides down, hiking back up and burying himself unto your own, your body tenses.

He slips out a shaky groan— He could have sworn he felt his own eyes flutter out of shock. His fingers almost painfully dig down to your skin, and you hum in response. “Fuck.“ His eyes roll, a guttural grunt slipping again from his throat. Before you could even come back to the depths of his lips— His hands- still underneath your sweater- trail to your bare sides, making you shudder. 

He almost stopped- a small impulse sprouts itself to go back up and to press his lips against yours— But he doesn’t— feeling you push yourself to his palms, urging- silently pleading him to continue— and his laugh vibrates, a searing sensation against you. 

“You really want this?” He whispers to your ear, warm to your flushed skin. You merely form a small serpentine grin, not even hesitating to murmur a silken yes so low he almost didn’t even hear it- yet, it dares to shudder a ripple unto his own spine.

He drags his lips again unto you— and you only huff breathily, echoing a hum of pleasure as Five trails up. His hands grasp unto you, and he forces himself to watch, to see the glint of deconcentration that shone in your eyes because of him. How your mouth shaped into an “O” just as you felt him touch— The way you tried to hide your now aflamed face, only receiving another chuckle as his fingers slipped even lower, briefly touching your waist. 

Damn it- This— you were a pure act of desecration; the destroying of his own control. It was irreverent-  sinful, to even think that he needs, desires you this much. 

It was as if he were a man desperate to get even a drop from an oasis’s springs in a desert full of sand and grime threatening to choke him with each breath he takes; he was simply feeling something quell in his throat, it was as if it were thirst— or even worse, it was hunger. 

He knows— Fascination wraps unto him; an anchor into the depths of desire.