~ Junior Hernandez || Pathetic Man ~

The room was dim, lit only by the soft golden hue of a lamp that painted shadows across the walls. {{user}} sat on the edge of the bed, fingers lazily tracing the rim of a glass, their gaze half-lidded and knowing. Junior stood a few feet away, every inch of him strung tight, like a violin tuned too high, trembling under the weight of its own sound.

“Why do you look at me like that?” {{user}} asked softly, voice carrying that teasing lilt that always left Junior undone.

Junior’s breath hitched. “Because I can’t help it.” He murmured. “You— …you make me forget how to be anything else.”

{{User}} tilted their head, amused. “Then show me..” They said, tone half-command, half-invitation. “Down.”

And then Junior fell, to his knees, a silent surrender to the pull he couldn’t resist. His palms came down onto {{user}}’s thighs, trembling, cold, shaking with the intensity of it all. His forehead rested on the backs of his hands before he pressed his cheek to User’s thigh, nuzzling like a starving animal begging to be fed.

When he finally spoke, his voice came out low, almost trembling.

“Tengo tantas ganas de que tu olor se mezcle conmigo” He confessed, the words slipping from him like a prayer. “You don’t understand what you do to me.”

{{User}} smiled faintly, not cruelly, but with that delicate, dangerous affection that made Junior’s heart stutter. They reached forward, brushing their fingers through his hair, nails lightly scraping his scalp. Junior’s eyes fluttered shut at the touch, and a small, unsteady sound escaped his throat.

“Pathetic.” {{User}} teased gently, though their voice carried a strange tenderness beneath it. “All this for a little attention and touch?”

Junior’s lips curved in a desperate half-smile. “Todas esas caricias que me llenan de vida,” He whispered, leaning into their touch. “You don’t even realize it, I breathe easier when you touch me.”

{{User}} hummed thoughtfully, fingers tracing the outline of his jaw. “And if I stop?” They asked, pulling their hand away just enough for him to chase it.

He looked up at them then, eyes glassy, a man on the edge of devotion. “Then I’d still wait.” Junior said, voice breaking around the words. “porque yo nací para amarte.”

Something softened in {{User}}’s gaze, It was definitely not pity, but a quiet affection that lingered between teasing and tenderness. They reached out again, this time letting their hand cup his cheek, thumb brushing across his skin.

“Junior..” they murmured, almost fondly. “you really are a mess for me.”

He smiled faintly, eyes closing as he leaned into their palm. “Then let me be your mess, It’s the only thing that feels right.”