HIS: Flower (Taehyung) | {Book 6} ✔️

~XXI~

Guess the cat is out of the bag...

Only a few people knew the real truth. Jimin, Yoongi hyung, and Jin hyung; they had mainly figured it out by themselves. Flower was the first to actually tell with my volition. This was my choice to tell her—to share with her this pain and suffering.

"Before the divorce, before our anniversary, I found your sister with him—in my bed. I was so hurt that I left quietly. Then I was disgusted by her, by what she did, I never wanted to confront her about it." I most likely had a terrible face on as I spoke about the past that I only wanted to throw away.

Flower was crying for me. Her anger rising and frustrations vented out as she listened.

"Then you know, she used our lawyer to slap me in the face with divorce. I don't know, it was rushed—everything was. Then I got the call that she was..." I sighed heavily, a choking sensation on my throat. "She never told me she was that sick. I guess she thought it wasn't necessary for me to know, not when she had someone else."

It only lifted a little when I felt a hand on my hand, one that had scrunched up my pants.

"But you came to the funeral." A single squeeze, soft and gentle, tug me back.

"I did. Out of respect." I clarified. I think even then, I hadn't harbored any lingering feelings for her. I had disassociated myself from her, which hadn't ended there, but also my friends, my brothers. "And your parents, I couldn't tell them that anything—not when they were grieving. Not when I respected them too much."

"Oh, Taehyung..." Flower understood probably because she would do the same. Unable to tell her suffering and the reasons behind it, nor when, it involves her own parents or someone who she cared for.

When I felt the arms that wrapped around me, her smaller frame trying to engulf me, I went still but didn't stop her because I didn't want her to.

"I resent her, even now." I held her right, like she was the anchor to my ship, the shower to my dry cracking garden. "She left me like this, no answer, leaving me devastated and a loser."

I closed my eyes. Then the water that I had not know to have accumulated in my eyes fell, the lids pushing them down and for gravity to do it's job—to fall.

"Taehyung."

"Don't leave me." She left me broken.

"I won't. I won't leave you Taehyung."

I looked up to see her eyes, those tear stained eyes, warm and full of care, sincerity that I hadn't seen in so long. It wasn't pity, but care.

The brush of my lips began slow, accidental at first, the water slowly dissipating as she licked away my tears. Softly her lips kissed my forehead, her cheeks, my lips.

Then I wanted more.

What was slow and soft became desperate and a fervid need, the crash of my lips against her too-willing malleable pillowy flesh.

Hands tugged at the mound before cupping the curve of her ass, as her fingers traced my shoulder muscles, and biceps, before moving to run over my chest, and neck.

An easy snap and the loosening of her bra allowed her breasts to find freedom and seep out as if they were playing peekaboo. I took one in my mouth, the hardened bud, delicious even though there was no flavors. The taste of her skin was enough, the hunger growing but also sated at the same time.

She hummed in approval, the gentle flicks of my tongue, and rub of my hands on her body exactly what she needed. Her fingers liked to grip the locks of hair that was now braided with her digits. Our intimacy grew, as I suckled on her rosebuds. She was a flower indeed, everything so floral and delicate.

With a pull of her legs around me, i hoisted her on my, her crotch daringly grinding up and down, as my lips dominated her once more. I moved us to the bedroom, a place where she hadn't seen. Out of respect and privacy she had skipped it, but she hadn't needed to because I would have taken her inside, not that there was anything special in it.

Laying her on the bed, she sat with arousal seeping out of her. She had what was called bedroom eyes, the flutter of her lashes seductive but also coy and regal. More productivity ensued, just as more clothes became free and unchained us. The underwear that had stuck to her skin came off, the honey from her pot potent in smell. While my eyes learned about the petals of her flowers slowly, Flower began entranced with making me equally bare.

Silently we told ourselves to not dawdle.

"Are you ready?" I asked.

Her eyes narrowed, until they were half-hooded, on my face as her lips looked so deliciously moistened and swollen. Gyrating her hip in a circle, Flower urged for more skin to skin.

"Yes," her ususal soft, voice was rugged and whiny.

In a long time, for the first time, my body met the body of another intimately. The exposure felt awkward, but the uplift of my body was real. I felt my body light in weight, the shoulder not so burdened, and my chest felt less heavy as if the food that had been forcing me to the ground had been tackled by a hero, giving me reprieve from my state of distress.

It was with blissful, drunken freedom I entered her cave, the warmth inviting.

For the first time in what had felt like an eternity in ice, I felt warm—blissfully.