ersmajesty-blog

[ersmajesty-blog]

Truth or Dare

”Truth or dare?”

Jimin’s voice is soothing, leaving you in a sense of tranquility, even though the words make your skin prickle and your eyes avert from his.

”Truth”, you answer, too many seconds later, finally meeting his steady gaze. He is biting his lower lip now, revealing his crooked but still perfect teeth, while giving you the smile only God himself can interpret.

”What are you thinking about?”. His smile broadens; teeth leaving their gentle grip of the lower lip, eyes becoming two dark slits.

Before you can stop yourself, you swallow. The saliva seems to vibrate from nervousness, amplifying the sound when it passes your throat. You have to say something, but instead your mouth is left half open, and your eyes blankly staring into his.

You are thinking about how slender his body looks in his black button-down, and how his baggy ripped jeans still shows his well sculpted legs, his muscular thighs… You are thinking about how the open fire makes a mix of orange, yellow and red dance across the right side of his face, and how it makes his hair glow, like the strands themselves are caught in flames. You are thinking of how it would feel like to run your fingers through his silver hair once again, of how his breath feels against your neck, and of how his lips feels against your skin. The urge to get up, to get closer to him, is almost as consuming as his dark eyes.

You are thinking of many things, yet no words are leaving your lips. Because you can’t tell him. You can’t. Instead you take a deep sip of the bubbly liquid in your half full glass, almost emptying it, and watch him as he sits in the sofa opposite to you - his left leg over the other, his right hand holding the full glass so that it doesn’t fall over on his knee, while the other hand’s pointer finger makes light circles on the armrest’s black leather. The poorly lit up room is making his still statue look like the angel you know he isn’t.

“What are you thinking about?”, you answer, when it is clear that he won’t say anything until you do.

“You.” The word is penetrating, as if he read your mind and epitomized it into one single word. His smile is gone, his lips closed. His eyes, now perfectly revealead, are dark as a starless night sky, but burning with a fire more intense than the sun.

“That is not how this game works, though” he declares, standing up abruptly. He makes his way to your very front, leaving his glass on the small marble table. “What are you thinking about?”

You break the eye contact - his burning gaze seems to emit a heat that radiates through every vein, every artery, every capillary in your body.

“You want the long answer, or the short one?”, you say, and look up, surprised of your own voice. He looks surprised, too. Amused, nevertheless.

“The long one”, he replies, his smile tinting the words.

The effects of the consumed alcohol is starting to reach its peak: filling you with its tingling courage, embracing your brain in a comfortable fogginess. So you let go of your reserved self, you ignore the part of your brain that’s telling you to be the way you so forcefully try to be. That’s when you stand up; Jimin’s chest is only a couple of centimeters from yours, from you.

“I dare you to touch me”, you say as you inhale deeply, hoping to get as much of his scent into your system. And you get enough; he smells of sweet- and spiciness, of mysteriousness and of pure lust.

“Is that the long answer?”, he says, not trying to hide his well noticeable pleasure.

“No. I dare you to touch me”, you say firmly.

“Where?”

“Everywhere”, the word is followed by a hot breeze against your face. He closes his eyes, his mouth still half open. Before you have the chance to admire the view of his unconstrained appearance, he opens his eyes and grabs you by the neck.

“Is that your long answer?”, he breathes - the words are no longer following a smile.

“I dare you to kiss me”, you say, more demanding than intended. Jimin’s head approaches your face, but evades by just a couple of centimeters, heading towards your ear.

“I dare you to stop me” he whispers, sending another wave of goosebumps through your body, just as you can feel your subconsciousness deafen your now lost consciousness; so you just close your eyes, and become aware of your fastening breathing as his soft lips gently skims over your neck, up to your left ear, down again to your neck pit. From there he licks you up the other side of your neck and ascends from your skin right below the jaw, right next to his thumb that still holds you in its possessive grip.

“Fuck, I want you.” His mouth close to your ear.

“I’m not stopping you from anything”, you say, while trying to compose the aroused butterflies in your belly. However, failing to do so, you raise your yearning arms and grab a  hold his face with your hands, ready to eliminate the aching distance between the two of you. But the pain washing over his soft features interferes with your move - with only one previous memory of his face looking like that - and instead he speaks.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” From playful, to assertive, to emotional. Not knowing what is trying to be implied, and not caring enough to let it affect the delectable moment, you proceed with the move.

“Kiss me. It doesn’t matter if it hurts”

Unexpectedly, the grip around your neck tightens, while his other hand pulls you towards him by your waist. And so he kisses you; his lips opening and closing around yours, his tongue invading and seizing the innocence your mouth has to offer, and which you are pleased to give.

It comes as a shock, when he as suddenly pulls back, and makes a gesture for you to sit right down, on the fluffy mat. Stunned by the sudden change of course, you do as you’re told. He sits down next to you, using the sofa to support his back. and speaks

“Truth or dare”, he says with surprising composure; no signs of your previous actions. His serene demeanor is the exact opposite of the excitement that fuels your rapid pulse, so it takes every muscle in your body to seem as unaffected.

“I think it’s my turn to ask”, you say, astonished over how well you keep the act together.

“Truth”, your inner self is sulking over the discouraging answer, so you decide to be equally undramatic.

“One place you would go, if you could?”

He sits up, with his legs to the side. And raises his hand to your face where he gently rests the palm on your flushed cheek.

“I’m already there.”

You say nothing, just stare at him, deciding to ignore the succumbing anwer.

“Truth or dare?”

“Dare”

“I dare you to tell me why you ended it”

“This is definitely not how this game works”

Back to being playful, he just grinns, his face bereft of all emotional feelings. You sigh.

“Because of all this”, you explain, circling your hands with excessive indignation in front of you. “Too much doing, so little talking.”

“I am talking. I was talking.”

“I mean, just too much shallow stuff. We never spoke about feelings…” You pause, giving him  chance to agree on the matter. His silence obligates you to continue.

“And I say WE, because neither of us did. I didn’t. So I’m not blaming you. We are obviously not suited for eachother relationship wise.” You look at him with grave sincerity. He looks back, raising his eyebrows, as if giving a persuasive speech.

“I disagree with you” he says, overly prudish. “I knew you had feelings for me, you knew I had feelings for you.”

“We KNEW, through actions, that we found each other somewhat attractive. And that’s it.” Irritation leaves your lungs along with the spoken words.

He exhales while taking your hand into his, staring at it. His face emotionless.

“You knew I loved you”, he says, not leaving your hands with his eyes

“No, I didn’t. You never told me. Fourteen months and you never told me.” You try to look as neutral as possible “And I never told you” you add.

He prepares to speak, but you quickly interrupt his thoughts

“Truth or dare?”

Now he looks back at you, his face still stripped from emotions.

“Truth”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You try his cold behaviour.

“Because I thought you knew. Truth or dare?”

“Truth”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want it to be true.” He looks at you, obviously taken aback. To save yourself some trouble, you explain your daring statement.

“You were an ass. I felt like your toy, since I wasn’t even sure there were feelings from your side. But, stupid as I a-”

“You are not stupid”

“Shut up. I couldn’t leave you, until I realized that it wasn’t sustainable. But all this doesn’t matter now, you know I moved on. We are really happy.”

“It was sustainable” It’s unsure whether he is sulking or just trying to further provoke you.

“No, it wasn’t. And your lifestyle that you’ve been living since we broke up is not helping anybody. You can’t stay locked up in here forever.”

“It was sustainable, and Taetae is coming over tomorrow”, he gives away a sly smile, clearly in purpose to provoke. And he succeeds.

“Bye, Jimin.” Heading towards the dark corridor, you can feel his eyes stalking you in surprise when you walk past him.

It takes a few seconds before you hear the expected steps behind you. But he says nothing, until he has reached you and grabs your arm.

“Don’t leave me again” he pleads, more commanding than you would like. But you see that inside, he is truly desperate.

“This year without you has been like a nightmare. I want to wake up, I hate this dream”, his face is back to being painted with affliction.

“Why?”

“I need you”

“Why?”

He makes an attempt to kiss you, but you push him away.

“No.”

This time it is his turn to ask: “why?”

“Because I do not need you.” You make sure to stress the last syllables.

“I want you”, and his anguished words are your undoing.

So you kiss him, and he catches your move and embraces you with his whole body: his legs, his arms, his fingertips. You feel everything, yet it feels like it’s not enough.

In a messy pile of lusting arms, legs and breaths on the floor, his body is a pleasant weight on top of yours. It feels wrong, and every bit as good. Jimin’s occasional moans unlocks familiar doors, that usually keep out the darker parts of your unreserved self. Parts that willingly open up to him.

It is by automatic your lower body pushes itself against his leg, rubbing between your legs; his growing lump making its existence noticed against your thigh. Your right hand is pulling his collar, in a desperate attempt to get him even closer to you, while your left hand is clutched around the hair close to the nape of his neck.

“Come back to me”, he whispers through clenched teeth. His fingers shameless seeking underneath your shirt, unbuttoning your pants.

“You know I can’t.”

That’s all you say before you lose yourselves in each other.

You were the last one to see Jimin before Taehyung found him in his apartment - two weeks ago, the night after your visit. That horrible night seemed to continue throughout the whole day, even when the sun rose and filled the air with hope and possibilities.Taehyung squeezes your hand with his soft one, then giving you a smile, shaping every centimeter of his childlike face. It’s a too happy smile for the occasion, but you know it’s an attempt to comfort you. Although it’s not, you smile back, telling yourself it’s to comfort him. He kisses you on the temple, and shifts his attention to the now arrived priest, whose voice echoes within the embellished church walls.

“We have all gathered here today to share memories and say our last goodbyes to our beloved Park Jimin.”

[ersmajesty-blog]

I wish unicorns existed.