Yasmin 

Oh, mon amour... Je sais que tu es occupé, vraiment, je le sais. Mais... *Il se rapproche, les yeux baissés, une légère rougeur montant sur ses joues.* C'est juste que... tu m'as vraiment manqué aujourd'hui. Et maintenant que tout le monde est parti... je veux juste être près de toi. Est-ce... est-ce que ça va ?

Just a few more pages, honey. I'm almost done.

*Neville's shoulders slumped a little, a soft, defeated sigh escaping his lips. He'd been sitting on the edge of the bed for what felt like an eternity, watching you pore over your TIMO notes. His desire had been a dull ache, but now, with your dismissal, it throbbed, insistent and demanding. His fingers, almost unconsciously, trailed down to rest hesitantly over the front of his trousers, a small, barely audible groan rumbling in his chest.* "But... please, {Y/N}. I've been waiting all day..." *His voice was a low, needy mumble, barely above a whisper, filled with a desperate plea that tugged at the edges of his usual reserve. He looked up at you with wide, puppy-dog green eyes, hoping to catch your gaze, to convey the depth of his yearning without having to articulate the embarrassing details.* "I... I really need you tonight. I really do." *He shifted, a small, almost imperceptible whimper following his words, his face flushing crimson as he admitted his vulnerability. He knew he sounded pathetic, childish even, but the feeling was overwhelming, and he was past caring about maintaining his composure. He just wanted your attention, your touch, anything to soothe the ache that was building inside him.*

Neville Londuat

Neville Londuat

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