★ 요약 - in which, James promised himself he wouldn’t ruin his sweet girl, but he just wants you so bad…
warnings .ᐟ : smut, desperate!james, female member! reader x idol james. dry humping +messy makeout. Sorry for the typos it was late asf !
™ taglist : @jakeycakeys @justpassingdontworry @crypticscarrift @ja4hyvn @taelvvrzz @heejakexx68 @kienhawon @jinniepilled @eczlipse @sonyui @seokiify @iuuuugdh @jjamiesmess @seonghwaswifeuuuu @ave-encoer @wxnizz @yeeyeehaw22 @royallywovenhorizon @miles4eva
based on this request. # divider creds : @/bbyg4rlhelps
While everyone else stumbled recklessly through their twenties, James moved through life like someone carefully keeping disasters at arm’s length.
Including you. Oh, especially you.
Sometimes you wondered if he even realized what he was doing to you. The absent touches that lingered too long, the conversations that turned soft around the edges, sharing bottles of water because that was as close to kissing as you could get.
Because James acted like a man standing inches away from a fire while pretending he couldn’t feel the heat. And you, stupidly, naively had spent months waiting for him to either step closer or finally walk away.
James had always positioned himself as the steadfast protector of cortis, especially when it came to you, frrom the moment you stepped into the fold, younger than him by 2 years, full of untamed energy, he’d silently sworn to himself that he would shield you from the harsher edges of the intense industry world, treating you like the heart of the team that needed his nurturing rather than the shameful and impure thoughts that animated him.
But you couldn’t give less of a fuck, you knew what you wanted, and genuinely believed that no level of his desire could corrupt your already filthy mind.
But for him, that promise ran deep, rooted in his fear of ruining you, tainting your innocence with the raw hunger he felt every time your body brushed against during rehearsals or the quiet moments alone, knowing that crossing that final line would shatter the careful balance he had built, leaving you exposed to the pitiless indutry,z his own guilt over the age gap, and the potential mess of emotions that could fracture the group’s bond.
In his private thoughts, this protectiveness twisted deeper ; he was drawn to you in ways that went far beyond camaraderie, his chest tightening with awful longing during group dinners or van rides where your laughter filled the space, yet he buried it under layers of guilt, convinced that pursuing anything mores would ruin the delicate balance you all had built.
The problem was that James had never learned how to want gently.
Everything about him existed in extremes, even the things he tried desperately to hide, he loved quietly, but intensely. Protected people too much. Felt anger too deeply.
And when it came to you, the wanting had become so overwhelming that he started treating it like something dangerous instead of something human.
Because you were soft in all the ways he wasn’t.
You laughed with your whole body and you were precious and kind. You still believed apologies when they sounded sincere, still cried during movies and laughed too loudly at stupid jokes, slapping your thigh when things were funny.
— The door to the his bedroom felt heavier than usual as James leaned against it, his breath hitching in the silence of the hallway.
He could hear the faint, muffled sound of your laughter coming from the living room a sound that usually acted as his anchor, but tonight, it felt like a serrated edge pulling at his composure.
You were laughing with Keonho, watching Youtube shorts on the TV like everything was fine, while all he wanted was to walk in there, to pull you into his arms and tell you everything, but the weight of his perceived "sin" kept his feet anchored to the floor.
He retreated into his room, the sanctuary where his carefully constructed facade finally crumbled. As he sank onto his bed, the friction of his own movements against the fabric of his sweatpants became his only solace. He closed his eyes, imagining the weight of you pressing him down, the warmth of your presence filling the void in his chest.
He had wanted you from the moment you’d waken up this morning, hair messy, wearing those pink pajamas with a ribbon atop.
Scratch that, he’d wanted you since the moment he met you, but was too brainwashed to act on it, only pushing his despair to a greater degree.
He kept the layers of denim and cotton between you in his mind, a psychological barrier that allowed him to pretend he wasn't losing control. To him, this was a compromise a way to crave you without consuming you.
James could still feel the ghost of your presence in the air, the way your shoulder had brushed his earlier during the final run through of the choreography, sending a jolt through his system that he had to fight to hide.
He stared at the ceiling, his chest heaving with a quiet, desperate rhythm. He was so terrified of being the one to break you, to turn the beautiful, unblemished bond into something messy and complicated, that he had built a fortress around his heart.
But the fortress was becoming a prison.
Every time he chose the safety of his bed and the muffled friction of his clothes over the terrifying possibility of your skin against his, a small part of him felt like a liar. He told himself he was being noble, that he was protecting your innocence, but in the dark, the distinction felt increasingly thin.
He was starving in the midst of plenty, holding himself back just enough to keep the group stable, yet not enough to keep his own sanity intact.
He wondered if you could sense the tension in his touch, the way he would sometimes linger a second too long when handing you a water bottle, or the way his gaze would drop to your lips before snapping back to your eyes with practiced, brotherly discipline.
He was playing a dangerous game of emotional restraint, convinced that as long as he didn't take everything, he wasn't truly taking anything at all.
With trembling hands, he hurriedly smoothed the fabric of his sweatpants, adjusting them to hide the tell tale signs of his arousal. He took a jagged breath, trying to force the heat in his cheeks to recede and the haze in his eyes to clear. He needed to look normal, not like a man who had just been secretly craving the very person he swore to shield. So he did what he did best. He counted sheep.
Stepping out of his room, he felt exposed, as if the scent of his own need might cling to his skin.
1 sheep, 3 sheep, 4 shits…
Nothing could distract him from you.
As he entered the living room, the warmth of the communal space hit him instantly. The other members were scattered around, the low hum of their conversation acting as a veil for his sudden anxiety. Juhoon and Martin were watching something on the latter’s phone, occasionally laughing at silly skits, Seonghyeon was playing a game on his Nintendo switch, feet propped on the coffee table, and next to him, Keonho had his eyes on the TV.
Then, his eyes found you.
You were sitting there, so vibrant and untouched by the turmoil currently wrecking his insides, smiling at unfunny scenes in the same old show you obsessed over.
James felt a sharp pang of both affection and ache, forcing a small, practiced smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. In the corner of his eyes, he kept Keonho tucked right there, not that he had any ulterior motives, but he was insanely close to you on that couch, so much so that his insides twisted.
It truly felt like a subtle theft of the space he so desperately wanted to occupy.
"Whatsup," he said, his voice slightly huskier than usual as he crossed the room to join the circle, trying to act as though his heart wasn't still racing from the secret he had just been keeping. "What are you guys watching ?"
"It's that sitcom again" Juhoon chimed in without looking up from Martin's phone, letting out a snicker at a particularly ridiculous video. " she watched this episode at least ten times this week. can't even turn the TV on without hearing the theme song."
James forced a light chuckle, moving toward the edge of the couch. He didn't sit on the far end; instead, he chose a spot that felt natural, yet allowed him to be close enough to catch the scent of your strawberry shampoo. He sat down, his thigh brushing yours for a fleeting second. The contact, though brief and buffered by layers of fabric, sent a jolt of electricity through him that made his breath hitch, he was weak like that.
James quickly masked it, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, trying to look engaged with the group.
"Ten times?" James teased, turning his gaze toward you. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but his eyes lingered on your face a second too long, tracing the curve of your smile.
"Is it really that good?"
He felt a bead of sweat at his temple, he knew was playing a dangerous game, sitting this close to you while the phantom sensation of his own hands and the friction of his clothes still burned in his memory.
He was terrified that if he looked too closely, you would see the hunger he was trying so hard to bury.
Would you care? Would you hate it? Would you hit him?
"It's not just good, it's comforting. Not that any of you fuckers would understand… " you defended, nudging Keonho with your elbow as you laughed. "The characters are predictable. It's nice when you know exactly what's going to happen."
The oldest watched the movement the way your arm brushed Keonho's and felt a familiar, sharp pang tighten in his chest. He forced himself to look away, focusing instead on the TV, though the bright colors and loud laughter felt secondary to the heavy awareness of your presence right beside him. He was hyper aware of the distance between his hip and yours, a mere ridiculous inch of air.
"I bet," James murmured, his voice a little lower than he intended. He reached out, his hand hovering for a split second before he settled it on the back of the couch behind your head, a gesture that looked protective to the others but felt incredibly intimate to him. "But don't watch too much, we have practice early tomorrow."
He wanted to reach out and tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear, like a boyfriend would, to feel the warmth of your skin under his fingertips, but he held back.
— The transition from the lively living room to the silence of the hallway felt like a descent into a different world.
James had managed to make a clean break, offering a sleepy, affectionate pat on your head before retreating to his room, but the lingering warmth of your touch on his hair felt like a brand. He had barely managed to pull the duvet over his legs and turn off the lamp when the soft, hesitant sound of your footsteps approached his door.
A light knock, almost too quiet to hear, made his heart lurch.
“y/n?" he called out, his voice thick with a sudden, unbidden tension, he recognized the sound of your footsteps like they were his own.
He sat up quickly, the sheets rustling loudly in the dark, he hadn't even had time to settle his thoughts, to let the adrenaline of being near you fade into the calm of sleep.
When you pushed the door open just a crack, the sliver of light from the hallway illuminated your face, making you look small and vulnerable in the dimness.
"James?" you whispered, your voice laced with a seriousness that made his stomach flip. "Can we... can we talk? Just for a minute?"
James felt a wave of genuine panic wash over him. Talk. Talking meant honesty, and honesty was the one thing he was terrified of. If you talked, you might ask why he had been so distant during dinner earlier or why his eyes seemed to wander when you laughed, or why the air between you felt so thick with things left unsaid. He feared that if the conversation went too deep, you’d end up reading his mind, revealing the man who spent his lonely hours grinding against his own clothes just to feel a little close to you.
"Sure," he said, his voice a little too fast, a little too eager to please. He patted the edge of the bed, his pulse thrumming in his throat. "What’s wrong, whatsup?"
He watched you walk toward him, the shadows of the room dancing around your silhouette, acutely aware of how close you were standing to the very same bed he slept in.
You sat on the edge of the mattress, the weight of your body shifting the bed and causing him to lurch slightly toward you. You didn’t look away, instead meeting his gaze with a quiet intensity that makes the air in the room feel suddenly thin.
“Everything’s fine, really... it's just..."
You paused, twisting the hem of your oversized sleep shirt between your fingers, a nervous habit he'd seen thousand times, but tonight it felt different.
“It feels like there's this wall between us lately, like you're always looking at me, but you're also looking past me, like you're afraid to get close" You leaned in just a fraction, your voice dropping to a soft, searching murmur. “Am i doing something wrong? Or is it just me overthinking?”
James had spent months meticulously building that wall, brick by painstaking brick, convinced that it was the only thing keeping the group and you safe. To hear you call it out so plainly, so vulnerably, made the structure feel suddenly fragile, as if one more word from you would cause the whole thing to come crashing down.
The shift in the mattress brought you closer, the scent of your skin something soft and familiar invading his senses and making his head swim. He looked at you, really looked at you and he saw the hurt in your eyes, the genuine confusion of someone who felt a rift they couldn't name.
"You're not doing anything wrong, y/n," he said, his voice cracking slightly.
James reached out, his hand moving instinctively toward yours, but he stopped himself just inches away, his fingers trembling. The habit of restraint was almost a reflex now.
"It's not you. It could never be you."
He swallowed hard, the guilt rising in his throat like bile. How could he explain that the 'wall' wasn't meant to push you away, but to keep him from rushing toward you? How could he tell you that he was pulling away because he was terrified of how much he wanted you?
"You’re not overthinking" he whispered, his gaze dropping to your lips before he forced it back to your eyes, desperate to maintain his composure. "It's just... I don't want to lose what we have. I don't want to change the way things are because... because you're so important to this group. To me."
You let out a soft, frustrated breath, the sound catching in the small space between you. He’s doing it again, you thought, the familiar ache of his hesitation tightening in your chest. You didn't pull away when he leaned in; instead, you met his gaze with a stubbornness born of exhaustion, refusing to let him hide behind his careful brotherly mask.
"James... we already talked about this," you began, your voice trembling slightly despite your effort to remain steady. "I already told you how I feel, and you just... you retreat. You act like you're guarding a treasure, but you're treating me like a glass statue that's going to shatter the moment you touch me. I’m a grown woman."
You reached out, your fingers finally closing the gap he had been so afraid to bridge, tentatively covering his white knuckled hand with yours.
"Stop being so careful for a second and just be here with me… just feel it.” you finished.
The sensation of your hand over his was electric, the warmth of your palm against his cold fingers felt like a sudden invasion of the sanctuary he had built for himself. It was the very thing he had been denying his body for months the actual, unmediated contact of your skin against his.
"A grown woman," he repeated, the words a low, pained murmur, you were peeling at his layers like an onion.
"You don't understand," he choked out, his eyes finally meeting yours with a ferocity that was anything but brotherly. "You think I'm being careful because I don't care? It's because I care too much y/n. It's because every time you're near me, every time you look at me like that, it's a struggle just to breathe. It's so hard not to..."
He trailed off, the truth hanging heavy and thick in the air between you but didn't finish the sentence because he couldn't bring himself to say how he spent his nights, how he craved the very thing he was terrified to ask for.
But he couldn't pull away anymore. Driven by a sudden, desperate courage, he turned his hand over, lacing his fingers firmly with yours, squeezing tight as if he were afraid you might decompose. He leaned in, closing the final inches of space until his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm and shaky against your skin.
"Okay," he whispered, a surrender and a vow all in one. "Okay. Tell me what you want from me and i’ll give it to you."
His brain was screaming at him to retreat, to find a polite way to end this before he said something he couldn't take back, but his body had other plans. His thumb began to trace small, unconscious circles over the back of your hand, the sensation sending fresh jolts of heat straight to his core, he was so easy, so malleable that it scared him.
If he told you the truth that he wanted to lose himself in you, that he wanted to feel every inch of your skin without the barrier of clothing would you still look at him with that same warmth? Or would that make him incredibly weird?
"I don't want you to 'give' me anything like it's a favor," you murmured, voice dropping.
He shifted, his weight pressing more firmly against the mattress, bringing his chest so close to yours that he could feel the frantic rhythm of your heart matching his own.
"I want you to stop being so patient with me," you confessed breath hitching. "I want to stop pretending that a simple touch is enough. I want you to stop being careful like i’m some - some fragile thing. Because it's driving me insane."
You didn't flinch the moment his thumb grazed your lip; instead, you leaned into the heat of his palm, your eyes never leaving his.
“I'm tired of pretending that a brush of a shoulder or a 'brotherly' pat on the head is enough to satisfy this." you breathed out.
You reached up, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt to pull him just a fraction closer, refusing to let him retreat back into his shell.
The defiance in your voice was the final blow to his restraint. James felt a low sound vibrate in his chest, something half groan, half surrender. He’d held himself together for so long like a rope pulled too tight, and your challenge finally made it snap.
He didn't just lean in this time; he surged forward like magnet. His hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair to tilt your head back, planting his lips on yours with a sudden, bruising intensity.
The kiss hit you like the release of a breath you’d been holding for months, messy, overwhelming, desperate in a way that made your chest ache instantly, because finally - finally his mouth was on yours instead of lingering too close, dancing around unspoken desires, finally he was touching you without restraint instead of pulling away at the last second like he always did. You melted into him almost embarrassingly fast, your hands gripping at his shirt as heat rushed through your entire body, dizzying and sharp.
And James kissed you like he was loosing an argument with himself. He’d spent so long thinking that if he crossed this line, he’d taint his beautiful precious girl, raised to think that wanting you was the worst of sins. Still, there was something almost tortured in the way he held you, like he couldn’t decide whether to pull you impossibly closer or force himself away before he lost control completely, the kiss deepening anyway, inevitable now, and the sound he let out against your mouth was shaky enough to betray just how badly he’d imagined this.
You fascinated him, made him stupid and that fucked him up. He was a mess, but this was life changing nevertheless.
“Is this okay?” He said against your mouth, “Say you’re sure… please… i need to know.”
He cupped your face again, thumbs stroking your cheeks as he looked at you for one breathless second, like he still couldn’t believe you were a real person. Then he kissed you, deep and hungry, tongue sliding against yours in slow, filthy strokes that made your stomach flutter.
He didn’t wait for words, his lips claiming yours again, hotter, wetter, more desperate, one arm wrapped around your waist, holding you tight against his chest while his other hand slid up your back, fingers tangling in your hair. He kissed you like he was starving, messy, open-mouthed, with soft gasps and quiet groans shared between you.
It was silent, save for the wet sounds of your kisses, the rustling of clothes that had to stay on, and the small, needy sounds that slipped from your lips. But it was the loudest you’d ever felt him. Like he could finally apologetically indulge without beating himself up for it.
He pulled back just enough to trail kisses along your jaw and down to the sensitive curve of your neck, breathing hot and ragged against your skin. A low groan vibrated from his chest as he sucked lightly there, then returned to your mouth like he couldn’t stay away for too long.
Without breaking the kiss, he guided your leg over his, pulling you in until your bodies aligned and the moment your center pressed against the firm muscle of his thigh, a low sound escaped his throat, like he’d finally bypassed his problems.
He rocked his hips forward experimentally, letting you feel his hardness through his pants as he encouraged you to move against him. The slow grind started naturally, your hips rolling in small, tentative motions that sent sparks through both of you. He matched your rhythm, pressing up to meet every subtle shift, the friction building steadily between your clothed bodies.
His hand gripped your waist, steadying you as the movements grew more deliberate. Each roll of your hips dragged pleasure through the layers of fabric, teasing and intensifying with every pass, he kissed you deeper, tongue exploring, while his free hand roamed up your side, pulling you even tighter against his thigh.
The quiet room filled with the soft rustle of clothes and shared, muffled breaths. He groaned quietly into your mouth, clearly losing himself in the sensation of you grinding against him, his own hips pushing back in steady, needy pulses. The heat between you kept rising, slow and intoxicating, as an unconscious need for proximity took over.
He knew he should pull back. God, he did. He knew he should tell you this was wrong, that he didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve you. That getting this close would only break you later, yet his hand tightened on your waist, encouraging you to keep moving like his body and mind were both distinct separate entities.
He could feel everything: the growing dampness seeping through your clothes, the way your body heat bled into his, the subtle tremble in your thighs as you pressed down harder. His own cock strained painfully against the front of his pants, throbbing with every slow, deliberate grind of your hips. He rocked up to meet you, matching your rhythm, the steady pressure and slide of fabric creating a maddening tease that made his breath hitch.
James wanted so desperately to turn his brain off.
The friction was driving him insane.
‘ I can’t go further. I promised myself I wouldn’t ruin her. I won’t. I can’t.’ was all his brain could repeat, like a stupid parrot.
But he was painfully hard, his cock throbbing and leaking inside his pants, aching for relief he refused to take by any other means.
This was all he would allow himself, this messy, desperate grinding. Nothing more.
Being with you felt like an endless compromise.
Making excuses all the time to get more of you.
He shifted his hips, carefully guiding you until his hardness pressed directly against your core. Even through both your clothes, the thick ridge of his cock nestled perfectly against your heat. A shaky breath left your mouth as his slow, deliberate rolls of his hips dragged his length along your clothed pussy. You felt every inch of it. The steady pressure, the way the fabric between you created this maddening friction that rubbed right against your clit with each grind. Heat bloomed between your legs, making you wetter with every slow thrust and your breath hitched as pleasure sparked up your spine, warm and tingling.
He felt so hard… so desperate.
James groaned softly against your mouth, fighting to keep the pace slow even as his body screamed for more.
“You feel too good,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I’m trying so hard not to lose it… fuck- please say it’s okay? I need it, just this…”
The slow burn was torturous, every grind sending waves of heat through your core, the soaked fabric sliding slickly against your sensitive folds. You could feel how painfully hard he was, thick and pressing insistently right where you needed him most.
Each roll of his hips made your clit pulse with pleasure. You were getting soaked, the wetness seeping through your panties and into his pants, making the slide smoother, filthier. The quiet room filled with the soft, rhythmic rustle of clothes and your shared heavy breathing.
He buried his face in your neck, lips brushing your skin as he kept moving, his cock twitching hard against you everytime you made a sound.
“Fuck… you’re so wet. I can feel it through everything,” he rasped, voice desperate. “I’m losing my mind. I want you so badly but I can’t…“
James was fighting an internal battle much greater than having to choose what to eat for dinner - which was already extremely hard for him but let’s not digress. He’d never wanted to undress someone so badly, or ever… The way your top clung to your breasts made his brain short circuit, he wanted to reach for them, squeeze them in his hands, bury his cock between them-
Your thighs trembled, the slow, constant pressure was building deep inside you, a warm, tightening coil that made your breath come in soft whimpers. Every time he rolled his hips, dragging his thick length right over your clit, pleasure flared hotter, youcould feel how badly he was struggling, his body tense, hips stuttering slightly as he fought back his own release.
He kissed you again, deep and messy, groaning into your mouth. “Please… come for me,” he begged against your lips, voice hoarse and broken. “I’m so close already. I don’t know how much longer I can hold it, ‘need to feel you..”
The desperation in his voice pushed you closer, the slow, relentless grinding against your core had you aching, dripping, right on the edge. The corruption so delicious.
His cock throbbed violently against you with every controlled thrust, and you could tell he was barely hanging on, muscles tight, breath ragged, fighting with everything he had not to spill before you did.
You were so close now, the pleasure winding tighter with every slick, heated grind of his body against yours.
“I can’t… shit-“ His words broke into a shaky moan as he rutted against you a little harder, then forced himself to slow again, forehead pressed tight to yours, breathing ragged, almost sobbing.
“I want you so bad it hurts. I wanna be inside you so fucking deep but … I can’t. I won’t ruin you. Please… just let me feel this. Just this.”
You whimpered as he ground his cock directly over your clit again, the thick ridge rubbing slow circles that made your toes curl. Heat flooded through your body in heavy waves. He felt impossibly hard, pulsing, twitching, leaking against you. You could feel every desperate twitch of him through the soaked fabric.
His hand slid up your back, clutching at your shirt like it was the only thing keeping him tethered.
“You’re so- so… fuck.,” he mumbled incoherently, lips brushing yours between broken words. “So good… so fucking good. You’re killing me…-“
He was trembling now, hips stuttering as he fought his own body. You could tell he was right there, painfully close, but refusing to let go until you came first. His cock throbbed violently against your core with every slow roll, begging for release he was denying himself.
“Please… please come for me,” he begged, voice hoarse and wrecked, almost slurring. “Need to feel you… need it so bad. I’m so close, fuck, I’m leaking so much for you. Gonna make a mess but I don’t care. Please, baby… let me feel you break. I can’t… I can’t hold it much longer…”
His desperation poured into every movement. The yearning in his voice, the way he kept grinding his aching cock against your dripping heat like it was the only thing keeping him alive, it was overwhelming.
“Keep going… just like that- fuck.” you moaned, desperate.
You felt full of him even without him there, the slow, slick drag of his hardness against your most sensitive spot pushing you higher and higher.
Your thighs shook, the coil inside you tightening unbearably. Every needy, desperate roll of his hips sent sparks shooting through your body until you were right on the edge, gasping against his mouth and he kissed you messily, tongue lazy and desperate, whimpering into your mouth as his hips jerked again.
“Mine… - mine,” he whispered brokenly, barely coherent anymore. “Cum for me… please. I need it. Need you. Gonna lose my mind if you don’t- fuck- please…”
The pressure was relentless, perfect, the slick friction of wet fabric dragging over your swollen clit again and again. You were shaking, evvery nerve in your body felt lit up, burning. The heat between your legs had turned molten, your pussy clenching around nothing as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your belly. His thick, pulsing length rubbed against you so perfectly through the layers of clothes that you could feel every twitch, every desperate throb of him.
The coil inside you snapped without warning.
Pleasure crashed over you in heavy, blinding waves. Your back arched, pressing your core harder against his cock as you came, a choked cry slipped from your lips, your entire body shuddering against him. Your pussy throbbed and clenched rhythmically, soaking through your panties even more as intense pulses of ecstasy rolled through you, the slick, messy friction of him still grinding slowly against your sensitive clit dragged the orgasm out longer, making your vision blur and your fingers dig hard into his shoulders.
He held you through it, trembling violently, his breath coming in short, desperate sobs against your neck.
“Oh fuck-” he said incoherently, voice hoarse and cracking. “So good… so fucking good- baby, I can’t- I can’t hold it ... I’m- shit-”
The moment your orgasm started to crest, his control finally shattered.
With a deep, guttural groan that bordered on a whine, he rutted desperately against your pulsing core a few more times before he came hard. His cock jerked and throbbed violently against you as thick, warm spurts of cum flooded his pants, he kept grinding through it, messy and uncoordinated, chasing every last second of pleasure while whimpering your name like a prayer.
His whole body shook against yours, arms wrapped tightly around you as if you might disappear. Heavy, ragged breaths fanned across your skin while the aftershocks rocked both of you.
Even then, his hips gave a few more weak, lazy rolls against your sensitive core, like he couldn’t bear to stop completely. His voice was barely a whisper now, broken and raw with guilt, relief, and overwhelming yearning.
“ I didn’t mean to… but fuck, I needed you so bad. Still do. I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” he apologized.
James pressed his forehead to yours, eyes glassy and unfocused, still panting softly as the warm, messy evidence of what you’d done together settled between you.
The air itself had been wrung out of both of you. The only sound left was your uneven breathing and the faint rustle of sheets as James finally loosened his grip on you, though not by much. His forehead stayed pressed against yours, eyes closed, like he needed a second to come back to earth.
“Don’t apologize.” You kissed his temple, then his cheek, in a gentle manner that felt foreign for you. “there’s nothing bad about what happened.”
‘there’s nothing bad about you wanting me’ you wanted to say.
very short ( compared to my previous works ) and lacks plot but hah whatever
