Jin

The reminiscence of a horribly vexatious day had left me utterly despondent as I dutifully hauled my lethargic self back to the cavernous confines of my apartment. Outside, murky darkness had begun to overwhelm the dim streetlights nearby - an early episode, I note with a nonchalant stare towards the antique timepiece hammered against the concrete. With the skies rapidly turning sinisterly dull, a downpour was to be due at dusk - I presume, as part of a common occurrence of the season. “How apt,” I snickered to myself sarcastically, “of this wondrous day.” Shuffling towards my room, I dived rather blindly and headfirst into the welcoming comfort of my bed. It came as a complete surprise when I drew in vague breathing accents in juxtaposition to myself. Nervously springing up, I threw a sideway glance across the vastness of the mattress, only to sight the man of my loves in the dim light.

Phil was lying on his back, his athletic build magnificently splayed across the bed. He had pushed the duvet covers low, and his hazy grey cowl neck sweater was hiked up, revealing the defined lines of his sculpted abdominal muscles. No doubt, the man had been working out again. With a pounding heart, I tugged playfully at the waistband of his boxers. He was however, sound asleep - most likely, a consequence of attempting a surprise by travelling overnight. Giggling softly to myself, I gently ran my cool fingertips across his hardened stomach, tracing the delicate lines. Phil’s skin was warm, a dear comfort to my depressing day. The man would always be my haven, I mused to myself.

Deftly lifting the duvet covers off my man, I smoothly tugged his sweater further upwards, exposing his nipples. I simply adored it. His areolas were a toned bronze, and definitely, sensitive. It was his weakness, one that I reveled in entirely. It made him feel less perfect, and more human in every sense. Phil stirs as I tenderly toyed with his nipples which were hardened from the sheer chill of the air conditioner above. Almost instantaneously, goosebumps flourished over his tanned skin, and he releases a faint grunt. By now, I was ultimately assured of how I could childishly harass the man but at the same time, not perturb his rest and it intrigued me. Gleefully tracing my chilled fingers down the smoothness of his chest and towards his open thighs, I gently tugged his legs slightly apart, slipping my hand temporarily between them. Indulging in the softness of Phil’s skin aroused me, and more so reminded me of my sacred ownership of the man.

Phil stirs once more, and I cease my motion momentarily. I detested the notion of breaking his sleep - he was exhausted and I did thoroughly savior the bizarre intimacy. The tranquility of his calmly steady breathing was a serene truce and one I vowed to not ruin… at least, until I was done. I was reminded of Phil’s conventional responses to my caresses, his savage embrace and possessiveness - all of which I immensely revere - but today was different. For once, I had desired to dominate over the husk of my man in bed, and fulfill the fantasies I never did. I lusted for the control.

“Hey, been having fun?” Phil rouses from his slumber, rubbing his eyes coolly as a child would. “Damn, I was praying you would never awake.” I cheekily reply, half-disappointed. “Was feeling it a little too much… and you know how much of a light sleeper I am.” He mumbles throatily. “Oh god. You could have just told me to stop.” Embarrassed, I turn away. Suddenly jolting upwards, my man captures me in a casual embrace. I squirm uncomfortably, my cheeks increasingly ablaze as he purposefully leans nearer. “What are you playing at?” I mutter guiltily, stimulated. The closeness of him flustered me more than it ever had. “I liked that though,” Phil whispers quietly into my ear, “continue it.”