ππππ¬ππ« ππ¨π« β
ππππππππ (ππ): πππ§π
dropping on September 27th at 18:30 PT
summary: miguel finally gives in to what you both want
out now!
Hot air wades through the piqued hairs on your neck when he speaks again. You jerk away from it, face shrilling like a kettle kept over flame. Itβs almost impossible to shift under the heavy moor of his body on yoursΒ
βItβs not so good, is it? Being ignored.β He whispers, nudging the locks that fall between you away with his nose. The attention is too much too fast, flaying you alive until your innards and secret mortification spill, exposed to the elements.
All you can do is whimper, lower half wriggling for a friction that could abate the ache waxing in your core. It drums to the rhythm of his breaths, expectantly tensing every time his chest swells. The act is desperate, much like the worm that still cleaves your brain apart. Rumbling promises, blasphemy, about leaps of faith into your mentorβs apartment. Or revelations like being fucked silly.
His voice takes on the same quality when he presses for a reply, canting forward to eject the burden from your lungs. The hard line of his erection stamps onto your ass, roughly illustrating an example for whatβs to come. βHm?βΒ
βN-No.β You stammer, nails grazing the calloused layer on the heel of his hand. His grip readjusts around your crossed arms, momentarily affected by the gentle brush.
βNo.β
And if youβd been a stranger to the nuances of his expression, you would have thought he seems unaffected. But youβve honed an ability to read between the complexities of Miguel OβHara. (Majorly for self-preservation, however itβs proving useful now.) The mock is hummed with a husky, dulcet note, whipped somewhere in the back of his throat that turns the simple reiteration into a taunt. Heβs teasing you.Β
(And shit, why is that so hot?)
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