Burning the midnight oil
Happy birthday to dear @haithamuse 🥂🎂
Thank you for thinking of "The lover's journey" event.
I love collaborations, I especially enjoy reading each author's selfships and dreaming a little.
If there are blog friends among the authors, it's even more fun (yes, @the-chronicles-of-a-bookworm and @melancholicautumnfever I'm talking about you). 🫶
My entry is an oneshot, slice of life with lots of fluff and some cuddling turning a bit more affectionate, there are lots of innuendo, but no smut. 👀
Best wishes again to the birthday girl! 💐
Until next time!
V.
-> more knb stories here 🏀
When it snows, only one thing is certain: you will be late.
You can feel the cold stinging your nose, your cheeks and every inch of your uncovered skin. It doesn't matter. The sight of that little white wonder will always be one of your favourites, even if it delays your train by an hour and forces you to say good night on the phone.
"What's another hour, I could wait all night for you, babe!" he yawns, and you immediately picture him sprawled out on the couch in the most uncomfortable position his six-foot frame would allow, an impudent expression on his face underlining the naivety of your suggestion. Daiki Aomine, your better half, the sexiest man on the planet, your only reason for living, who can't resist Morpheus? Pfft! Have you gone mad? You have been working too hard lately, and it shows when you are at odds with his word.
"Then it must be that my brain has frozen along with my body! " you chuckle, knowing that behind this wall of closure lies a simple desire to fall asleep with you, in the silence of your bedroom. His voice catches your attention, as you see the train coming and you are about to end the call.
"Once home, I'm going to warm you up properly, in all the ways you like best, baby angel!" he says casually, sure that you'll be blushing like crazy on the other end of the line.
The way he makes you feel will never be something you will be able to downplay.
"I'm glad you're entertained!" you snort at his giggles, trying not to lose your dignity in front of the ticket controller, who looks at you with mild curiosity.
Then, you realise that your thoughts are already wandering through your memories.
Now that his magic has reached every knot in your body, your mind brings back his smile.
That mischievous grin on his cheeky, adorable face.
The one he gives you every time he teases you with one of his tricks.
The same one he wore when he asked for your phone number, after he'd waited for you to say goodbye all your friends after lessons. That swaggering expression he put on, the night of your first date, commenting on every girl you met, so much so, that you wondered if you had misread his intentions. That annoying mask, which fell off when you admitted that you felt uncomfortable and walked away, leaving him alone in front of the fridge in the konbini, where you were supposed to get an ice cream.
Back then, he had caught up with you instantly, grabbing your hand at the red light of the big crossing to the metro. It has been there, in the middle of the flow of commuters on their way home, that he gave you your first kiss and his heart.
When you finally step inside your apartment and take off your gloves, you realise how cold you are. Your hands are red and icy, as are your cheeks and nose. You leave your shoes and bags at the entrance, walking slowly down the corridor. That quiet welcome has one and only meaning.
Morpheus won.
You cannot help but be a little dazed when you get to the bedroom and find him asleep. His head on your pillow, his legs slightly open, his light breathing mixed with a few causal sounds from his parted lips. You move closer, knowing that you can only caress him with your gaze, since you are the same temperature as the ice that covers the streets. But Daiki is attractive, so attractive, too attractive. He's also being his usual careless self, leaving the top of his pyjamas on his pillow, but his body temperature is close to that of lava, and he doesn't care. Not bad, because you don't even have to bother opening the drawers. Very bad, because the rhythmic rise and fall of his broad chest, his muscular arms and his big hand let open over his strong abs, clouds your senses for a few minutes.
It is only the threat of sneezing that makes you abandon your malicious intention of waking him up to remind him of what he'd promised.
With this thought to keep you company, you had forced yourself to take a hot shower, and now you are walking on tiptoe so as not to wake the sleeping handsome prince. Perhaps he was not as asleep as he would have you believe, for in those few minutes he managed to slip under the covers that you were now pulling off.
His pillow is softer than yours, and smells of the shampoo you bought him, which he always complains about, but always uses. His pyjama shirt is big, comfortable and dangerously loose, just the way he loves it, but Daiki plays dead, clearly wanting to continue the game you started on the phone.
If he's a natural tease, you're even worse.
There's one thing you know he’s not keen on : kisses on the forehead, exactly what you're going to give him. You move slowly, unhurriedly: your left hand near his pillow, your other hand on the mattress beyond his chest, one leg between his: curled on him but away from him, that’s how you press your warm, supple lips between his eyebrows for a fleeting moment. You are so close, but all the boy can feel is the cloud of perfume from your shower gel and the soft caress of your hair on his skin. His eyes dart as you withdraw, lingering on your cleavage for a few seconds to register how scantily clad you are, devouring you as you press your leg further against his thigh, biting your lip as his big hands cradle your hips. Ten long, strong, shameless fingers press you down on him, his palms flat against your back, tracing your spine so that his belly kisses your womb, then rising and locking you to him.
"Gotcha!" he chuckles as he moves closer to you, gently lifting your head to look you straight in the eye. "I've been thinking about this all night " he admits, running his right hand down your chest, enjoying the look of astonishment on your face as he brushes his thumb over your nipple, which instantly hardens, making it easy for you to respond. "Poor baby Daiki" you tease him, slowly moving your leg between his , caressing his clothed manhood with your soft bare skin, matching the thrill of intimacy with a soft moan. "Don't make me wait any longer" he whispers, closing the words over your mouth, playing with your lips, gradually increasing the pressure of his talented tongue, pulling away to show himself, brazenly needy, sure that what makes you tremble against his warm skin is pure desire.
"I won't " you promise, smiling softly.
Your lips and breath meet again.
Your body adapts to his, your hair thrown over your shoulder, your borrowed nightgown unbuttoned by his naughty hand as his lips restore the warmth lost with your clothes. You run your fingers through his dark hair and the kisses cease, his eyes rise from your collarbones to your face and he smiles, hiding his head on your heart.
"I've missed you so much" he whispers, as if apologising for his need to have you, as if a part of him is still afraid that you won't recognise his feelings, that you'll just see him as an horny boy.
"I love you too" you smile, welcoming his lips on yours with delight, closing your eyes to let that sense of electric heat pass through you to make you one with him.
The dark, cold night is left behind, as you're burning the midnight oil.