Fantasy
Pairing: TYL yama x reader
I just don't know. Maybe it's me, but it seems as if he released some type of potent and addictive drug in to the air and now I'm going through withdrawal. I need to see him again.
For an infinite amount of time, I could stand behind him, studying the way each ridge and valley of his muscles rises and falls, like waves as they raise the fabric of his shirt ever so slightly.
The gentle curve of his legs makes me weak. His walk is so smooth and effortless. I feel drunk and intoxicated just thinking about him.
I don't know what to call this.
I'm obsessed over him…
Feelin' him…
Diggin' him…
Whatever it is, it has consumed me.
Looking at his face… I can't describe the feeling. I'm almost embarrassed. I can barely look at him without feeling this mixture of adoration and caution. I fear falling helplessly into the deep pools of his eyes, which have this way of pulling me in and drowning me in thought.
A scar rests on the right hand side of his face just underneath his full rose-colored lips, but his face is so beautifully made. His smile, so perfectly constructed. The scar only enhances the masculinity and mystery of his presence.
Sexy…
Is a word that often frequents my thoughts when thinking about him, but I don't believe that quite encompasses the complexity and intensity of whatever you call that thing, that special something he exudes. It takes the air from the room
It's storming.
The thunder feels like it just shook my soul; or maybe it was him?
The blood is racing through my veins. It feels like my heart is beating to the rhythm of each raindrop. Beads of sweat roll down my spine.
Hot.
He must have struck a match and lit it underneath my skin. Breathing in his every breath as he moves his lips closer to mine…
Damn.
His skin is the color of honey dripping over moonlight, but I can't see him. My eyes are closed in anticipation. Instead, I see him with my hands. Better yet, let me discover every inch of him with my fingertips. They glide down the center of his back, appreciating and admiring every peak before sliding down every slope.
Each nerve ending in my body is standing alone, jealous of the other if one is graced by his touch for too long.
His lips feel like chocolate dipped rose petals as they move teasingly down the nape of my neck to the bend of my waist.
I can't take it. I need to feel him.
So I do…
Please review =/w/=