"Unspoken Possessions: A Silent Admiration"
He pushed himself off the door frame and began walking slowly towards her, each step deliberate and controlled. As he approached, his eyes roamed over her form, taking in the way she was nestled on the couch, his shirt still draped across her body, and the innocence in her eyes as they followed his approach.
When he reached her, he came to a stop directly in front of her, his gaze intense and unwavering. His body seemed to vibrate with barely contained energy, every muscle coiled tight as he struggled to maintain his composure. The atmosphere between them crackled with unspoken tension, a palpable sense of anticipation hanging in the air.
As he drew closer, the faint scent of her skin reached him, a delicate blend of her natural essence and the familiar aroma of his shirt. It was intoxicating and infuriating, a sensory reminder of her presence and his possessive feelings. The scent seemed to mark her as his, yet the realization that he couldnโt fully claim her left him with a simmering frustration, deepening the internal conflict between his desire and restraint.
He looked down at her, his eyes burning with a potent mix of desire and possessiveness. Every fiber of his being yearned to reach down, to pull her into his arms, to claim her then and there. But he forced himself to hold back, his breathing slightly ragged as he struggled to maintain control. The intensity of his feelings was almost palpable, the urge to close the distance between them nearly overwhelming, yet he remained still, battling against the powerful emotions roiling within him.
He could feel his restraint slowly fracturing, the primal desire to claim her, to make her his, growing stronger with each passing second. His eyes moved from her face to the rest of her body, obscured beneath the oversized shirt, his imagination running wild with thoughts of what lay hidden beneath.
His body tightened, every muscle coiled and ready to spring. The struggle to contain himself was immense; the urge to reach out, to touch her, to bury his hands in her hair, to pull her close and claim her lips in a searing kiss was almost unbearable. He fought against the intense yearning, his breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps as he battled to maintain control over the fierce desire that threatened to overwhelm him.
But he knew he couldn't act on his desires just yet. He needed to maintain some semblance of control. He took a slow, deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart and the overwhelming desire coursing through his body. The primal instincts urging him to claim her, to take her right there on the couch, roared within him, but he forced himself to push them aside.
He reminded himself that he was a man of control, not merely a beast driven by raw instinct. Still, holding back was becoming increasingly difficult. The sight of her in his shirt, her innocent eyes gazing up at him, was pushing him closer and closer to the edge. He could feel his self-control slipping, his body practically vibrating with the need to possess her. Each moment stretched painfully, his internal struggle evident as he fought to keep his desires in check, even as the urge to give in grew ever stronger.
Adhi
โWhat?โ she asked, her voice carrying a mix of curiosity and a hint of concern. Her eyes, wide and searching, reflected the confusion and slight apprehension she felt in response to his intense gaze and visible struggle.
Mattheo
โNothing,โ he said, his tone rougher than he intended. He tried to clear his expression, masking the primal hunger burning within him.
Professor Riddle watched as she returned to her book, completely unaware of the inner turmoil he was enduring. He took a deep breath, attempting to steady his racing heart and quell the desire coursing through him.
He couldnโt help but admire her ability to immerse herself in the book, her focus unwavering. Yet, this very ability was both endearing and frustrating to him. He wanted, no, needed her attention, her focus on him. The fact that a book could captivate her so thoroughly stirred a deep, unsettling frustration within him.
As he watched her reading, he clenched his jaw, his hands at his sides balling into fists. The urge to snatch the book from her, to cast it aside and make her focus solely on him, was nearly overwhelming.
A strange mixture of possessiveness and frustration gripped him. The sight of her so fixated on the book, wearing his shirt, made his heart ache. He longed for her undivided attention, craving the intensity of her gaze on him. He wanted to be the center of her world, to command her focus entirely.
His eyes roamed over her form once more, taking in how his shirt hung on her body, accentuating her curves and making it clear that she belonged to him. The desire to claim her, to mark her, to make her entirely his, grew stronger with each passing second.
He felt his control slipping further, the primal, possessive side of him surfacing. He wanted to grab her, pull her onto his lap, hold her there, and assert his claim. But he forced himself to hold back, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his fists, his jaw tight with the effort of restraining himself. He took another deep breath, battling the storm of desire and possessiveness raging within him.
He took a step back, creating physical distance between them in an attempt to regain some measure of control. He continued to watch as she read, entirely unaware of the storm of desire and possessiveness brewing within him.
He wished she would look up, notice the intensity of his gaze, and see the fire burning in his eyes. But she remained completely absorbed in the book, a state that was both endearing and maddening to him. He wanted to shake her, to make her put down the book and focus on him, to see the desire and need etched across his face. Yet, he didnโt want to disturb her either. He found himself caught in a paradox, torn between his overwhelming desires and his need to maintain control.
As she looked up and their eyes locked, Professor Riddle felt a sharp pang in his heart. Her innocent and slightly curious gaze, coupled with the sight of her in his shirt, was enough to make his heart skip a beat.
He met her gaze, his eyes burning with barely contained desire and possessiveness. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she looked, to voice the possessive longing coursing through him. But words eluded him, his jaw clenched as he struggled to maintain his control.
The silence between them was electric, charged with palpable tension. He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving hers, his desire to reach out and touch her almost overwhelming. He longed to claim her right then and there. But he held himself back, his knuckles white from the effort of restraining himself. Instead, he spoke, his voice a low, gravelly whisper.
Mattheo
โYou look good in my shirt,โ he said, his eyes raking over her form, taking in how the shirt hugged her curves. The sight of her in it, marked as belonging to him, only intensified the storm of possessiveness within him.
Adhi
โThanks,โ she said casually, her attention returning to the book as if his comment was a natural part of their conversation.
Professor Riddle felt a thrill go through him at her casual response. Her innocence was both endearing and incredibly frustrating, as she remained seemingly unaware of the effect she was having on him. The way she stirred up his primal desires and possessive instincts only intensified his internal struggle.
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