Sweet Blue Dream's

[jupiterpilgrim]

King for a Day

An Yujin x Naoi Rei x m!reader

word count: 14K

The elevator hums on its way up. Yujin fixes her blazer for the fourth time in thirty seconds. She glances over at Rei, who’s clutching two leather briefcases like a rookie paralegal at a firm that definitely launders money.

"Okay. One more time," Yujin says, cracking her neck. "We arrive, we explain the situation, we get him to sign the contract, and then we do what we came here to do. Simple. Clean. Professional."

Rei nods emphatically, though her grip on the briefcase handles tightens. "I still can't believe we're actually doing this..."

“This is everyday business for powerful people. Breakups, mergers, emotional takeovers. It’s just corporate restructuring with feelings thrown in. You'll get used to it, little bird." Yujin adjusts Rei's collar with two fingers, smoothing a crease that wasn't really there. "Wonyoung demands results. And you are going to deliver. Give it your best, yeah?"

Rei straightens slightly, a spark lighting up her eyes. "Wonyoung’s going to be proud of me!”

"That’s the attitude!" Yujin pats her on the shoulder.

The elevator dings.

The doors glide open straight into your suite - no hallway, no buffer. That’s the kind of place this is. Forty-two floors up, with a private elevator that answers only to you, and floor-to-ceiling windows framing a city that feels curated for your view. You’re standing in the bedroom doorway, halfway through buttoning your shirt, fingers lingering on the third button, when you hear footsteps on marble in a place where you’re supposed to be alone.

Two girls stride out of your elevator like they own the entire building.

You lift an eyebrow. “…How exactly did you two get in here?”

The taller girl moves in first, posture unshaken, like self-doubt has never been part of her vocabulary. Her shoulders are squared, chin angled with precise control - refined, yet quietly intimidating. “I’m An Yujin,” she says, holding out her hand.

You shake it. Her grip is firm, unwavering

The other one, a few centimeters shorter, shifts the briefcases to one hand and gives a small bow that's almost endearing in how formal it is. "Naoi Rei. Pleasure to meet you."

"It was easy to get in here," Yujin continues, already scanning your suite with the casual appraisal of someone who's been inside a lot of expensive rooms. "We can get into anywhere. Think of us like the Men in Black, but without being men."

"And without wearing black," Rei adds, glancing down at her navy blazer.

"Right. We also don't handle UFO events. Or alien immigration. Or memory wiping. Although," Yujin taps her chin, "that last one could be useful sometimes."

You finish buttoning your shirt and fold your arms. "So you have literally nothing in common with the Men in Black."

Yujin pauses. Thinks. "Yeah. That sounded better in my head.”

"My underwear is black, Yujin. That's already a start."

Yujin points at Rei without looking at her. "See? She's committed to the bit. I respect that."

You pinch the bridge of your nose. There are two strangers in your penthouse, one of whom just volunteered information about her underwear, and it's not even noon yet. "Look. As much as I love pretty girls trespassing on my private property, and I want to stress that this is extremely private property, what the hell are you doing here?"

"We're here on behalf of Jang Wonyoung," Yujin says, your eyebrow rises slightly. Now that she's said it, you actually do recognize Yujin. You've seen her at a few events, always orbiting Wonyoung, always laughing too loud at things that probably weren't that funny. Part of the entourage.

"What's this about, exactly?"

Yujin doesn't answer right away. She walks over to your sofa, a twelve-thousand-dollar Italian leather piece you've sat on maybe three times, and drops herself onto it without a shred of hesitation. She crosses her legs and leans back like she's been living here for months. Rei bows slightly, murmurs a quiet "excuse me," and sits down next to her with considerably more grace, placing both briefcases on the coffee table with the care of someone handling evidence.

"So here's the thing," Yujin begins, folding her hands in her lap. "Your relationship with Wonyoung is coming to an end. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this. Well, actually, I'm not that sorry, because I barely know you. But professionally speaking, I'm sorry."

You stare at her.

"It didn't perform as well as she hoped. There were metrics, projections, social media engagement targets, public perception polling, a whole spreadsheet situation. And the numbers just didn't hit. The relationship underperformed across every key indicator." She shrugs. "In other words, you're a flop, darling."

"Thank you for your kind assessment," you say, the sarcasm obvious in every word. "I bet you love what you do, don’t you?”

"Hey, chill, I'm just the messenger. Think of me as the Hermes of the situation." She wiggles her feet. "My winged sandals are by Prada, though…"

You lean against the wall and try to process this. You knew. Somewhere in the back of your mind, past the optimism and the carefully curated date-night photos and the way she sometimes smiled at you when cameras were around, you knew. The relationship was a strategy from the start, something cooked up between Wonyoung's management team and the political arm of your family. Good optics on both sides. You were useful, and she was beautiful, and for a while that felt like enough.

But you'd been hoping, stupidly maybe, that she'd eventually come around. That the dinners would start feeling real. That the hand-holding would stop being choreographed...

Wonyoung is so goddamn gorgeous she fried your brain.

"She could've at least come and told me herself," you say. "Or called. A text, even. Carrier pigeon. Smoke signal. Anything."

"Wonyoung doesn't have time for that," Yujin says, completely matter-of-fact. "She's a global star. Schedule's packed. And to be blunt with you, she doesn't care enough about the relationship to handle this personally. That's what we're for."

That one stings, but it's not a surprise. You exhale through your teeth. "Fine. I get it. But why both of you? With all due respect, it feels like you’re more here to mess with me than actually handle any legal issue.”

Yujin reaches over and pops open one of the briefcases. Inside, a thick contract sits nestled in foam like it's a piece of jewelry. She slides it toward you across the coffee table. "Part of the original relationship contract included a breakup-sex clause. Section fourteen, subsection C. If one of the involved parties declines to personally fulfill the obligation, a consenting third party may represent them."

You blink. "I do not remember that clause."

"It was in the fine print," Rei says, speaking up with the tone of someone who genuinely finds contract law interesting. "It's always important to read and review every document with a qualified attorney before signing. These things have layers. The legal world is full of traps."

"The little bird is right," Yujin nods sagely. "You really should have had better representation."

You run a hand through your hair and try to assemble the sentence correctly in your head before you say it. "So if I'm understanding this correctly, you two came here to have sex with me. In the name of Wonyoung."

Rei nods. "Yeah, that’s pretty much the idea."

"Sorry, I can't do that. That's unethical. That's professional abuse. You're being exploited. Wonyoung is sending you here to sleep with a stranger because she can't be bothered to handle her own breakup. Do you not see how messed up that is?"

Yujin holds up a finger. "First of all, darling, we read our employment contracts. Every word. Every footnote. Unlike some people in this room." She glances at the breakup contract on the table and back at you. "Second, we're both here willingly. One hundred percent. Nobody's being exploited. This is a task we accepted with full knowledge and enthusiastic consent."

"Then it's fine. You can go home. I'm not going to hold a grudge. I'll survive."

"It's not quite that simple." Yujin uncrosses her legs and leans forward, elbows on her knees. "Our job is to make sure you leave this relationship completely satisfied and without resentment. The goal is to prevent any future public bitterness, accusations, tell-all interviews, leaked texts, the works. Wonyoung's PR team was very specific."

"I promise I won't say a single bad thing about Wonyoung. I never have. I wouldn't."

Rei shakes her head gently. "Unfortunately, a verbal promise doesn't constitute a legal guarantee. You need to fulfill the terms of the contract, or there could be litigation."

"Litigation," you repeat.

"Litigation," she confirms, not blinking.

You take a breath. "Wouldn't it have made way more sense to just put a mutual non-disparagement clause in the contract? No public criticism from either side after the breakup. Done. Simple."

Yujin and Rei look at each other. A beat passes.

"That… would have been better," Yujin admits.

"That would have been much simpler," Rei agrees.

"Honestly, that feels like a plot hole." Yujin scratches behind her ear. "But it is what it is. The contract says what it says. We need to make you cum, man. That's the rule of the game. Them's the terms. You’ll be king for a day, so live it up." She slaps both her thighs and stands up. "Besides, Rei already shaved everything for this occasion. Don't let that effort go to waste."

Rei's cheeks flush a shade of pink that's almost impressive in how fast it appears. "I shaved because I wanted to. It had nothing to do with this!"

"Sure it didn't."

"It didn't…”

You look at the two of them. You're tired. It's not even lunchtime and you've been dumped by proxy, threatened with a lawsuit, and propositioned by two women you met four minutes ago. This is, without question, the last thing you needed today.

But you'd be lying if you said they weren't both stunning. Yujin is tall, almost catching up to your height, with long legs that her tailored slacks do absolutely nothing to hide. Dark hair falls past her shoulders, thick and straight, framing features that seem built for trouble.

Rei is different. Softer. Her face is rounder, her features more delicate, with wide dark eyes that make her look endlessly curious. She's shorter than Yujin by a handful of centimeters, and her frame is slimmer, more compact. Her hair is long and dark, parted neatly, falling past her chest. Something in her reads as gentle and careful, as though she’s constantly anticipating what comes next but keeping that knowledge to herself. The blush is still sitting on her cheeks, making her look even more endearing.

Together, standing in your living room in their formal wear, they look like a legal team that accidentally wandered into a very inappropriate comedy movie.

You sigh. A long, defeated, resigned sigh. "Fine. Let's just get this over with."

Yujin grins and claps her hands together once, all business. "Rei. Open the black briefcase again. Get the contract."

Rei nods, turns to the coffee table, and pops open the latch on the nearest briefcase. The lid flips up, and you all three stare at its contents in a brief moment of shared silence. Inside, nestled in neat little compartments, is a full spread of lace lingerie in various colors, two bottles of lubricant, a silk blindfold, a set of what appear to be very expensive restraints, and a few other items you don't even want to identify right now.

"That's the other briefcase, idiot."

"Both briefcases are black, Yujin!”

"One has a silver clasp and one has a gold clasp. I told you this in the car."

"You told me a lot of things in the car. You talked for forty-five minutes straight about how a hotdog is technically a sandwich."

"Because it is. Open the other one."

Rei closes the sex briefcase with a firm snap and reaches for the second briefcase. This one, mercifully, contains a thick stack of legal documents and a matte black pen. She pulls them out and hands them to Yujin, who fans through the pages with ease before turning the whole thing over to you.

"Sign here." She points. "Here." She flips a page. "And here. This document certifies that we have completed our objective and that you agree to all terms and conditions outlined in the original relationship contract between yourself and Jang Wonyoung." She flips to the last page and taps a highlighted section. "And in case of non-compliance, you will be sued for millions."

"How many millions?"

"Many millions. You’d probably have to sell this place to help cover the costs."

Whatever. You read approximately none of the fine print, which is ironic given the conversation you just had about reading fine print. You scrawl your signature across all three lines, grumbling the entire time about how this is the most absurd Tuesday of your life. You hand the contract back. Yujin slots it into the briefcase with the reverence of someone archiving a sacred text.

"Beautiful. Now." She turns to face you fully, hands on her hips. "Do you have any preferences? Sexually, I mean. We'll do basically anything. I personally won't do anal." She jerks her thumb at Rei. "But maybe this one will. She looks like she'd be quite the little slut given the chance."

Rei's back straightens. "Hey, I am not doing anal. That's too kinky. And filthy..."

"Nobody needs to do anal," you say, rubbing your temples. "I don't need to fuck anyone's ass. Can we just… not talk about asses for a second?"

A silence settles over the three of you. It is, without exaggeration, one of the most awkward silences you have ever experienced. You're standing in your own living room with two women you met less than ten minutes ago, a signed sex contract on the table between you, and absolutely no idea what the appropriate next move is. Do you offer appetizers? Put on music? Is there a Spotify playlist for "breakup sex mandated by your ex-girlfriend's legal team"?

"Do you guys want something to drink?"

Rei perks up instantly. "I want a Coke."

"We're not drinking anything," Yujin cuts in. "You can have a Coke on the way home."

"You said that last time and I didn't get a Coke."

"I forgot. I bought one later."

"You bought Pepsi. I don't like Pepsi."

"They taste the same, Rei."

"They absolutely do not taste the same. Coke is better. It's always been better. It's scientifically proven."

You hold up a hand. "I'll give you a Coke before you leave. I have a whole fridge full."

Rei beams at you like you just promised her a pony. Yujin rolls her eyes and snaps her fingers twice, redirecting the room's energy back to the task at hand.

"We should start. Right now. Before this turns into a beverage debate." She reaches back into the first briefcase, the fun one, and pulls out several sets of lingerie, holding them up for your inspection. A red lace set. A black number with straps that seem architecturally impossible. Something white and sheer that leaves less to the imagination than a clear window. "Which one do you prefer?"

You look at the options. You look at Yujin. You look at Rei. "You don't have to wear any of that. I’m fine."

Yujin's face falls. She stares at the lingerie in her hands, then slowly, mournfully, folds each set and places them back in the briefcase. "I arranged all of this for nothing. I spent an hour picking these out. An hour. At La Perla."

"I'm sure they're very nice."

"They're gorgeous. You have no taste." She closes the briefcase. "Fine, Mr. Vanilla. Let's go."

You lead them down the hallway to your bedroom. It's large, open, and minimal. King bed against one wall, floor-to-ceiling windows on the other, clean surfaces, muted colors.

You turn to face them. "So. How do we start?"

Rei raises a tentative hand, half like she's in a classroom. "Maybe a few kisses? To break the ice?"

Yujin is already unbuttoning her blazer. "You two get started. I'm going to warm up."

You watch her shrug off her jacket and toss it onto a chair. "Why do you need to warm up before sex?"

"To avoid joint problems." She rolls her shoulders in slow circles. "Warming up is a fundamental part of any physical activity, including sex. Especially sex. I don't want to wake up tomorrow with neck pain and a tweaked hip because I went in cold." She drops into a lunge, stretching her right quad with absolute seriousness. "You can’t mess around when it comes to your health.”

You sit on the edge of the bed. Rei sits next to you, close but not quite touching. Her hands rest on her thighs, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her skirt. You look at her, and she gives you a small, shy smile that makes her round cheeks push up slightly.

"I've never seen you before," you say. "Are you new?"

"I started working with Wonyoung pretty recently. This is actually my first time doing something like this." She glances over at Yujin, who is now doing push-ups in her underwear on your bedroom floor. "Yujin is supervising me. She says I need field experience."

"Field experience."

"That's what she calls it."

In the corner, Yujin knocks out another push-up, perfectly controlled. Her arms flex, and her dark hair pools on the floor beneath her. The girl has form; you'll give her that.

You turn back to Rei. "Can I kiss you?"

She nods. Just a small dip of her chin. With her permission, you reach up and cup her face with one hand, your thumb resting just below her cheekbone. She's warm. Her skin is impossibly soft. You lean in and press your lips to hers, gentle, unhurried. Her mouth is full and plush, and there's a faint sweetness there, something glossy and almost fruity. The kiss stays soft for a few seconds before it deepens, just slightly, her lips parting, the tip of her tongue brushing against yours with a tentativeness that's almost careful. Like she's still figuring out how much of herself to give.

When you pull back, you drag your thumb slowly across her lower lip. The gloss smears just slightly.

"You're pretty," you tell her. "Cute, too."

"Thank you." A faint blush creeps up from her neck. "You're very polite. Most guys just skip straight to grabbing."

"I'm a gentleman. For now."

She bites the inside of her cheek, fighting a smile. "Can I take my clothes off now?"

You nod. Rei stands and starts with her blazer, folding it neatly over the back of a chair. You help her with the buttons on her blouse, fingers working down the front while she unzips her skirt and lets it slide down her legs. She steps out of it, and there she is. Black panties. Black bra. Just like she said.

Her body hits different without the corporate layers hiding it. She’s curvy in a way those formal clothes were clearly trying to keep in check. Full hips, a soft waist, thick thighs that brush together when she shifts. Her chest fills out her bra easily. Her face hasn’t changed though - round cheeks, wide brown eyes, lips still faintly smudged from your kiss. That contrast, innocent face and everything beneath it, makes your pulse spike.

You pull her gently back onto the bed and kiss her again, slower this time, your hand sliding to the back of her neck as you ease her down against the mattress. Her hair fans out across your sheets, dark against white. When you settle over her, careful to hold your weight, she looks up at you and there's this brightness in her eyes, something electric and new.

“You’re a really good kisser,” she murmurs. “Even more handsome in person, too.”

"Rei." Yujin's bark comes from the foot of the bed. She's finished her push-ups and is standing there in nothing but a matching navy bra and panties, hands on her hips, a thin sheen of sweat across her collarbones. "Tone it down with the sweet talk. You're here to accomplish a task, not fall in love with the target."

"What happens if she falls in love?" you ask, still hovering over Rei.

"I'll have to kill her."

Rei's eyes go wide.

Yujin holds the serious face for exactly two seconds, then breaks into a grin. "Kidding! But seriously, this is a professional engagement. Keep it professional."

"You just did push-ups on his floor in your underwear, Yujin. How professional is that?"

"Extremely. That was occupational health and safety." Yujin climbs onto the bed, and the mattress dips under her. She's lean and long, toned arms, flat stomach, legs that don't seem to end. She crawls toward you with a confidence that borders on territorial. "Move over, little bird. I want to see if he's really that good."

She grabs your jaw with one hand, not rough but not gentle either, pulls you off Rei and onto your back, and swings a leg over you. Before you can get a single syllable out, she's kissing you. And where Rei was tentative and sweet, Yujin is immediate and aggressive, her mouth hot against yours, her tongue pushing in without asking permission. She kisses like she's trying to win something. You match her energy, one hand gripping her waist, the other sliding up her back, and she makes a small sound of approval against your lips.

When she pulls back, she's slightly breathless. She wipes the corner of her mouth with her thumb and tilts her head, evaluating. "Not bad. Eight out of ten. Room for improvement."

"Tough grader."

"I have standards." She looks down at Rei, who's propped up on her elbows watching the whole thing with mild fascination. Yujin's gaze drags over Rei's body with open appreciation. "She does have a really nice body, though. For someone who only drinks Coke."

"I don't only drink Coke! And I work out."

"When?"

"Sometimes..."

"Wow, that's fucking convincing." Yujin leans down and kisses her. Rei's hand comes up to rest on Yujin's shoulder, and for a moment the two of them are just tangled together on your bed, all lips and skin. Then Yujin pulls away and turns back to you.

"Clothes off. Rei, help me."

They work in tandem. Rei handles the buttons on your shirt while Yujin goes straight for your belt. Your shirt comes off first, and Rei's fingers trail briefly across your chest before she catches herself and pulls back. Your pants follow, Yujin yanking them off your legs with zero ceremony and tossing them somewhere behind her.

Both girls sit back on their heels and look at you. Just your boxer briefs left, and they're not doing a great job of hiding anything.

"Wonyoung picks her boyfriends very well," Yujin says, her gaze traveling across your torso, your arms, down your stomach. "At least she's got good taste in bodies."

Rei's head tilts. "Is it true that you and Wonyoung never actually had sex?"

"Yeah. We kissed a few times, tops. It never went further than that."

Yujin snorts. "That's pathetic."

“Hey, don’t be so harsh,” Rei says.

"No, she's right," you admit. "It was a pathetic relationship. The whole thing was for show."

"Okay, that's enough moping." Yujin flicks your forehead with her finger. "Stop crying. You've got two girls to fuck today. That's a net upgrade from zero. Rei, calm the baby down."

Rei leans over you and starts pressing small, quick kisses all over your face. Forehead. Cheeks. Nose. Chin. The corner of your mouth. Each one leaves a faint lipstick mark on your skin, and she giggles between them. Yujin joins in from the other side, stamping little prints across your jaw and temple.

You can feel them both laughing, their breath warm against your skin, and despite everything, you have to press your lips together to stop yourself from smiling. "Okay. You can stop now,” you say, and they obey, still laughing. “You’re gonna leave me looking like a passport full of stamps.”

Yujin's hand slides south. Her fingers trail down your stomach and settle over the front of your boxer briefs. She palms you through the fabric, and her eyebrows lift, not dramatically, just a little. Her grip adjusts, fingers curling slightly, testing the thickness, the length. You feel yourself twitch against her hand.

Rei reaches over too, her smaller hand pressing against you from the other side, and her lips part just slightly. "It's really big."

"The little bird loves a big cock in her mouth, don't you, Rei?" Yujin squeezes you gently through the cotton, not taking her eyes off Rei's face.

"Maybe..."

Yujin takes Rei's face in her free hand, squishing her cheeks gently between her fingers, and angles her toward you like she's presenting a product. "Look at this adorable little face. These brown eyes. These full lips. Tell me they don't look perfect wrapped around a cock."

The blush on Rei's cheeks darkens, spreading down her neck. She pulls her face free from Yujin's grip. “You’re way more of a slut than I am,” she says flatly.

“Hard disagree,” Yujin shoots back. “That title’s yours.”

“No,” Rei pushes. “You.”

“Still you,” Yujin says.

“Not even close,” Rei pushes back.

They continue this back and forth while their hands work together to tug your boxer briefs down your thighs, over your knees, and off your ankles. Your cock springs free, fully hard, thick and flushed and straining against your stomach.

Both of them go quiet for about half a second.

"Well," Yujin says.

"Yeah," Rei agrees.

Your cock sits between them, heavy and at their complete disposal. Rei makes the first move. Her fingers wrap around the base of your cock, tentative at first, like she's testing the weight of it. Her grip is soft, polite even, and she gives a slow experimental stroke from root to tip. Yujin's hand joins a second later, wrapping around the upper half, and together their fingers overlap and slide in a lazy, uncoordinated rhythm that somehow still feels incredible.

"Okay, he's really hard," Rei murmurs, more to herself than anyone else. Her thumb swipes across the head, spreading the bead of precum that's already gathered there. She watches it with a focus that borders on academic.

"What did you expect? We've been touching him for ten minutes." Yujin adjusts her grip, tighter, more purposeful. She strokes you with a confidence that suggests she's done this more than a few times, her wrist rolling at the top of each stroke. "Rei, match my pace. You're going too slow."

"I'm being gentle."

"He doesn't need gentle. He needs results." They find a rhythm eventually, both hands working you in tandem, Yujin's grip firmer and faster, Rei's softer and more exploratory. The contrast alone is enough to make your hips shift against the mattress. Two different touches, two different temperatures, four hands on you at once. Your cock throbs between their fingers, thick and flushed, and you let your head fall back against the pillow.

Then Yujin leans forward and spits directly onto the head of your cock. A thick, wet strand that rolls down the shaft and over both their fingers. Rei blinks. "Yujin!"

"What? It needs to be wet. I'm providing lubrication. This is a professional service."

Yujin doesn't wait for further commentary. She dips her head and takes you into her mouth, her lips stretching around the tip, her tongue pressing flat against the underside as she slides down. She's sloppy about it on purpose, generating as much spit as possible, pulling back to let long strings of saliva connect her lips to your cock before diving back in. She bobs her head with an efficiency that matches the rest of her personality: fast, aggressive, no wasted motion. Her hand works what her mouth can't reach, twisting on each upstroke.

She pulls off and nudges your cock toward Rei. "Your turn. Show me what you've got, little bird." Rei tucks her hair behind both ears, lowers her head, and takes you in. And immediately goes deeper than Yujin did. Significantly deeper. Her throat opens and your cock slides in past the halfway point, then further, her nose nearly touching your pelvis before she pulls back with a slow, controlled drag. Your stomach clenches. Your fingers grip the sheets.

"What the fuck," Yujin says, watching Rei's throat work.

Rei comes up for air, a thin line of spit trailing from her lower lip. She wipes her chin with the back of her hand. "What?"

"Since when can you do that?"

"I've always been able to do that."

The two alternate. Yujin takes the left side, her tongue tracing the length from base to tip, getting you soaked, spreading spit everywhere with a shamelessness that's almost admirable. Then Rei swallows you deep again, her throat constricting around your shaft, and holds there for a count that makes your toes curl before pulling back.

It's been a long time since anyone has put their mouth on you. Months. Maybe longer. You stayed faithful to Wonyoung through the entire relationship, which in retrospect was probably the stupidest form of loyalty you've ever demonstrated. You very much doubt she showed you the same courtesy, but that's a thought for another day, because right now two beautiful girls are sharing your cock and your brain is having trouble forming complete sentences.

"So," you manage, your breathing a little uneven as Rei takes you deep again. "What do you two usually do when you're not, uh. Working?"

Yujin pulls her mouth off the side of your shaft and gives you a flat look, saliva glossing her chin. "Don't try to engage in personal conversation. This is a professional engagement."

"You're literally licking my dick."

"And it's a perfect dick, by the way. I mean that professionally." She drags her tongue from your balls to the tip in one long stripe. "Professionally perfect. Five stars on the dick Yelp."

Rei surfaces, catching her breath, her lips swollen and shiny. "I like watching anime," she says casually, like she's not kneeling between your legs with your cock an inch from her face. "And I play my Switch 2 a lot. And I listen to music."

"Yeah? Who do you listen to?"

She wraps her hand around you and strokes slowly while she talks, absentminded, like she's forgotten what her hand is doing. "I really like Noah Cyrus. Aphex Twin. Gracie Abrams. Björk. A lot of different stuff."

Yujin groans. "Here we go. She's so performative with this indie shit. She even has a Letterboxd."

"What's wrong with having a Letterboxd?" Rei asks, visibly offended.

"You probably fakelist all those weird movies. There's no way you actually watched Mulholland Drive and understood it.”

"I understood it."

"What's it about then?"

Rei opens her mouth, pauses, then puts your cock back in it instead of answering. A tactical retreat.

"That's what I thought." Yujin grabs a fistful of Rei's hair, gently, and guides her pace. "Stop talking and keep sucking him off. Earn your five stars for best blowjob giver." She leans down and joins her, both their mouths working you simultaneously. Yujin shifts lower, her tongue finding your balls, lapping at them with broad, wet strokes while her hand holds the base of your cock steady. She takes one into her mouth and sucks gently, and you feel it all the way up your spine.

Meanwhile Rei has you deep in her throat again, her nose pressed against your lower stomach, swallowing around you in a way that makes your abs tense involuntarily. She holds there, eyes watering just slightly, then pulls back with a gasp and immediately goes back down.

"She can swallow the whole thing," Yujin observes, pulling off your balls to watch. "She must have sucked a lot of dick to get this good. That's just math."

Rei comes up, flushed. "That's not true. I just have a good throat."

"That's what they all say."

"It's what I say. Because it's true."

"Sure, Rei. And Mulholland Drive makes sense." They both come together at the tip, their tongues meeting around the head of your cock, lapping at it from opposite sides. Rei's tongue slides across the sensitive underside while Yujin circles the ridge, and then their tongues touch, slick and pink, and they kiss over the head of your cock, slow and messy. Yujin bites Rei's lower lip gently before pulling away. Rei's eyes are glazed, her cheeks are red, and there's spit all over her chin.

They pull back. Your cock stands between them, absolutely drenched, twitching against your stomach. Rei leans in one more time and presses a soft, almost tender kiss to the very tip. Just a peck. She looks up at you through her lashes. "Do I deserve five stars?"

"Absolutely,” you reply, sounding slightly breathless. “I'd write a review praising your technique. Detailed. With specific examples."

Her smile is genuine, bright enough to crease her whole face. It’s achingly cute, at odds with her puffed lips and the messy trail of spit and precum glistening on her chin. “That’s so sweet.”

Yujin sits up and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "Okay. Enough of the customer satisfaction survey. It's time to put this cock to work." She pats your thigh firmly. "Let's see if it's just for show or if it has some practical use."

"It has practical use,” you inform Yujin.

"We'll be the judges of that." She settles back on her heels and looks at you expectantly. "So who do you want to fuck first?" Before you can answer, Yujin turns her head sharply to the side and sneezes. Hard. She sniffles, blinks, and waves a hand in front of her face. "Sorry. My rhinitis flares up when I give head. Something about the angle." She pinches the bridge of her nose. "I really need to get that deviated septum surgery. I've been putting it off."

"Take your time."

"I'm fine. Answer the question. Who do you want first?"

"I don't mind. Whoever wants to go."

Yujin gestures at Rei with a tilt of her head. "Rei goes first, then. Since she's already head over heels for you."

Rei straightens up, indignant. "I am not head over heels for anyone. I'm just an affectionate person."

"You kissed the tip of his dick like it was a puppy."

"That's just how I am."

"Great. Then you can be very affectionate eating my pussy while he fucks you from behind. Put all that affection to good use." Yujin is already reaching behind her back to unclasp her bra. "Clothes off. Both of us. Let's go." The two of them strip. Yujin's bra comes off first, and her breasts are small but firm, her nipples already stiff. She hooks her thumbs into her panties and peels them down her legs without an ounce of self-consciousness, kicking them off the side of the bed. She's lean all over, slim hips, toned stomach, long legs, with a neat strip of dark hair between her thighs.

Rei takes a little longer. She reaches back and undoes her bra with careful fingers, letting the straps slide down her shoulders before pulling it away. Her breasts are fuller than Yujin's, round and heavy, and they settle against her chest with a softness that makes you stare. She wiggles out of her panties, and true to her earlier claim, she's smooth everywhere. Her hips flare wider than Yujin's, her thighs thicker, her whole body built along softer, rounder lines. She looks like a Renaissance painting someone accidentally dropped into the twenty-first century.

Both of them naked, side by side on your bed, are a sight that your brain is going to be replaying for the rest of your natural life.

Yujin catches you staring. "Have you never seen two naked girls at the same time before?"

"No. Never."

"Seriously? With your money?" She shakes her head with genuine disbelief. "If I had your bank account, my bed would be full of whores every single day. I'd have a subscription service."

"I had a girlfriend."

"You had a business partner. There's a difference." She crawls up the bed and settles against the headboard, sitting upright with her legs parted. She pats the space between them and looks at Rei. "Come on, little bird. Get in position."

Rei gets on all fours. She lowers herself, her elbows resting on the mattress, and settles her face between Yujin's open thighs. Her back arches naturally, pushing her ass up and out toward you. The curve of her spine is ridiculous, dipping down from her shoulders to the swell of her hips, and from this angle you can see everything, the smooth skin between her thighs, the pink of her pussy already glistening. She shifts her knees apart slightly, adjusting, and looks back over her shoulder at you. You're on your knees behind her, your cock still slick and hard, and the two of them are spread out in front of you like something your subconscious could never have conjured on its best night.

You're halfway to lining yourself up when a thought hits you. You pull back slightly. "Wait. Condom. I need a condom."

Yujin doesn't even blink. "Not necessary. We're both clean and on the pill. It's a job requirement. Wonyoung's team is very thorough about health compliance."

Rei turns her head, her cheek resting against Yujin's inner thigh. "We prefer to fuck raw anyway."

Yujin strokes Rei's hair once, almost affectionately. "The little bird is right. Besides, we've already had access to your medical records. Full panel. You're clean too."

You stare at her. "I think it's better if I don't ask how you got access to my medical records."

"Yeah, that would be wise."

You settle back into position behind Rei, your knees sinking into the mattress between her spread thighs. Her ass is pushed up toward you, round and full, and the arch in her lower back deepens the curve of her hips into something that makes your cock twitch. You reach down and run your index and middle fingers together along her entrance, slow, tracing the seam of her. She's soaked. Her lips are plump and pink and slick, and when your fingers drag through the wetness gathered there, she trembles. Not a big shudder, just a fine vibration that runs through her thighs and up her spine. Your fingers slide easily, parting her, feeling the heat radiating off her.

"Please put it in," Rei says, her grip tightening on the sheets near Yujin's hips. "Quickly. Sir."

Yujin's eyebrows shoot up at that. She looks down at Rei, then up at you, and a grin tugs at the corner of her mouth. She says nothing, but the look on her face says plenty. She threads her fingers into Rei's hair and guides her head gently between her legs. "Focus here, little bird. You've got a job to do too."

You take your cock in one hand and press the tip against Rei's entrance. The heat alone is staggering. You push forward, just the head at first, and her body resists for a second before opening around you, tight and slick and deliciously warm. You sink in an inch and stop, letting her adjust. She's so fucking tight it's almost difficult to move. Every fraction you push deeper, her walls grip you, squeeze you, like her body is trying to memorize the shape of you.

Rei exhales shakily into Yujin's thigh. Her fingers curl into the sheets. "My god, his dick..." You give her another inch. Then another. You can feel every ridge of her around you, the wet heat pulling you in, her muscles clenching and releasing in tiny flutters as she stretches to accommodate your thickness. By the time you're halfway inside her, Rei's forehead is pressed against Yujin's pelvis and her breathing has gone shallow and ragged.

"Breathe, Rei," Yujin says from above, her fingers still laced through Rei's hair. "And start licking. Multitask, babe."

Rei lifts her head slightly and lowers her mouth to Yujin's pussy. You watch her tongue extend and make contact, a slow, flat stroke from bottom to top, and Yujin's stomach muscles tighten visibly. Rei licks again, finding her rhythm, her tongue working in careful, measured passes while you continue feeding your cock into her from behind.

"Good girl," Yujin murmurs, and her hips shift against Rei's mouth.

You bottom out. Your hips press flush against Rei's ass, every inch of you buried inside her, and the sensation is so overwhelming that you have to hold still for a moment and just breathe. She's tight and hot and wet and alive around you, her walls pulsing, adjusting, gripping. You pull back slowly, watching your cock slide out of her, glistening, before pushing back in with a long, steady stroke. Rei gasps against Yujin's pussy, and you feel the vibration of it through your own body somehow.

You set a slow pace. There's no rush. Each thrust is full and deep, pulling almost all the way out before sinking back in to the base, and you savor every single second of it. The way her body yields to you, the wet friction, the obscene sound of skin meeting skin. You grip Rei's hips with both hands, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh above her ass, and use that leverage to control the depth and angle of each stroke. Her ass ripples slightly every time your hips connect, and the sight of it alone is enough to keep you hard for the rest of the afternoon.

Your eyes lift from Rei's back and find Yujin's. She's sitting against the headboard, legs spread wide, Rei's face buried between them, and she's looking right at you. Not at Rei. Not at the ceiling. At you. Those dark eyes are half-lidded and sharp at the same time, full of something that isn't quite challenge and isn't quite invitation but sits in that dangerous space between the two. She bites her lower lip, slow, letting her teeth drag across the pink of it, and holds your gaze.

"You look good like that," she says. "Behind her. Holding her hips. All that control." Her chin dips slightly. "It suits you."

You thrust into Rei again, unhurried, and watch Yujin's expression flicker as Rei moans against her. "You look pretty good yourself. Legs spread. Holding her hair while she eats your pussy." You push in deep and hold there, grinding slightly, and Rei whimpers. "Speaking of which. How's she doing down there?"

Yujin's breath catches. A low, unguarded moan slips out of her before she can stop it. She recovers quickly, tipping her head back against the headboard. "Pretty good. The little bird has a very skillful tongue. I'll give her that."

"I know. I just had that mouth on my cock. She's talented."

"Mm. Multi-talented." Yujin's hips roll forward against Rei's face, a slow, grinding motion she's clearly trying to keep subtle and failing. Her fingers tighten in Rei's hair. "She's doing this thing right now with the tip of her tongue that's... yeah. That's really good."

You pull back and thrust into Rei harder. Not brutal, but firm enough that the impact travels through her entire body, pushes her face deeper between Yujin's legs. Rei moans, a muffled, desperate sound that vibrates directly against Yujin's clit, and Yujin's thighs clamp around Rei's head for a split second before she forces them open again.

"Fuck," Yujin breathes. "Do that again."

You do it again. A deep, intentional thrust that buries you to the hilt inside Rei, and her whole body rocks forward. She moans louder this time, the sound smothered by Yujin's pussy, and you can see the effect it has in real time: Yujin's stomach flexing, her toes curling against the sheets, her fingers pulling Rei's hair tighter.

"You're using her as a vibrator," Yujin says, and there's a breathlessness in the way she says it that wasn't there before. "That's very resourceful."

"I'm a problem solver."

Rei pulls her head up just long enough to gasp for air, her chin slick, her lips swollen and shiny. "You two are going to break me and I haven't even been here an hour." She sounds wrecked already, her eyes glassy, her cheeks flushed so deep they're almost red.

"Get back to work," Yujin says, pressing Rei's head back down. "You're on the clock."

You settle into a rhythm. Each stroke is measured and full, your hips meeting Rei's ass with a steady, wet impact that echoes off the bedroom walls. You're not rushing. You're not chasing anything. You're just enjoying the feel of her, tight and slick and trembling around you, and the view in front of you is so fucking good it almost doesn't feel real. Rei's back, arched and glistening with the faintest sheen of sweat. Her ass, round and pushed back against you, taking every inch of you like she was built for it. And beyond her, Yujin, watching you with those dark, sharp eyes, her chest rising and falling a little faster than she'd probably like to admit.

You change the angle slightly, tilting your hips upward on the next thrust, and Rei's entire body jolts. She pulls off Yujin's pussy and her mouth falls open, a choked, guttural sound pouring out of her that she clearly wasn't expecting. "There," she pants. "Right there. Please."

"You found her spot," Yujin says, looking at you over Rei's trembling body. "You're getting warmer."

You hit the same angle again, a slow grind that presses the head of your cock against that swollen ridge inside her, and Rei's arms give out. Her chest drops to the mattress, her face turning sideways against Yujin's thigh, and her fingers grip Yujin's hips with a desperation that leaves white marks on her skin. You keep going, maintaining that exact angle, that exact pressure, and Rei is falling apart beneath you in a way that's almost too satisfying.

"Use your tongue, Rei," Yujin reminds her, tugging her hair. "Don't forget about me." Rei, with visible effort, turns her head back and buries her face between Yujin's legs again. Her licking is messier now, less precise, all broad strokes and sloppy enthusiasm, but from the way Yujin's abs keep clenching, it's working just fine.

You lean forward slightly, one hand still on Rei's hip, the other bracing on the mattress, and fuck into her with a slow, grinding pace that never lets her catch her breath. Every time you bottom out, you hold there for half a second, letting her feel the full depth of you, before pulling back and doing it again. Rei is shaking. Her thighs are quivering. And the sounds she's making into Yujin's pussy are getting louder, needier, more broken with every thrust.

"She's dripping all over your sheets," Yujin observes, glancing down between Rei's legs. "Absolutely ruining them. I hope you have a good dry cleaner."

"I'll manage."

"You better. Egyptian cotton isn't cheap." Yujin's hips buck forward against Rei's mouth, just once, a sharp involuntary movement she immediately tries to play off by adjusting her position against the headboard. But you saw it. You saw the way her jaw tightened, the way her fingers gripped a fistful of Rei's hair and held on, the way her thighs tensed and trembled for a fraction of a second.

She catches you watching and narrows her eyes. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Stop smiling."

"I'm not smiling."

"You're smiling with your eyes. Stop it." You thrust into Rei again, deep and firm, and the moan Rei produces into Yujin's pussy makes Yujin's head fall back against the headboard with an audible thud. Her eyes flutter shut. Her chest heaves. And for just a moment, the cocky, controlled, chaos-agent exterior cracks, and underneath it there's just a girl getting her pussy eaten really, really well.

She opens her eyes and finds you still looking at her. Something shifts in her expression. Something warm and a little bit dangerous. "Your turn is coming," she says. "And I'm not going to be as easy as she is."

"Looking forward to it."

Rei lifts her head, breathless, chin soaked, and manages to look over her shoulder at you with half-lidded eyes. "Can you go a little harder? Please, sir?" You grab Rei's hips with both hands and give her exactly what she asked for. The pace shifts from slow and teasing to firm, constant, each thrust landing with purpose and weight. Your hips snap forward and drive deep, pulling back just enough to slam home again, and the wet, rhythmic slap of your skin against hers fills the room like a metronome set to filthy. Rei's whole body rocks forward with every stroke, her knees sliding on the sheets, her fingers clawing at whatever she can reach.

You spread her cheeks with both thumbs, pulling them apart, and the view opens up completely. Her pussy stretched around your cock, pink and swollen and glistening, gripping you on every outstroke like she doesn't want to let you go. Her tight little asshole on full display above it, clenching involuntarily every time you bottom out. Everything wet, everything exposed, everything yours to look at while you fuck her at a pace that's making her lose the ability to form thoughts.

"Don't stop," Rei pants into Yujin's thigh, her face turned sideways because she can barely hold herself up anymore. "Please don't stop. Your dick is too fucking good."

Yujin looks down at her with undisguised delight. Her eyes are wide and bright and she's grinning in a way that suggests she's witnessing something she's been waiting to see for a very long time. The sweet Rei. The polite Rei. The girl who watches anime and plays her Switch and listens to Björk and blushes when someone mentions her underwear. That Rei is currently face-down between another girl's legs, getting railed from behind, and begging for more. Yujin reaches down and strokes Rei's hair away from her flushed, sweaty face like she's petting a cat.

"Look at you," Yujin says, and her tone is somewhere between pride and amazement. "Little miss 'I just have a good throat.' Little miss 'I'm just an affectionate person.' You're a complete slut, Rei."

Rei's fingers tighten on Yujin's thigh. Her back arches deeper, pressing her ass harder against you. "I can't help it." Her eyes are squeezed shut and her mouth is hanging open and the flush on her face has spread all the way down her neck to her chest. "His cock is just too fucking good. It's so thick and it's hitting everything and I can't think straight."

You thrust into her hard enough that her body lurches forward and she lets out a sound that's half gasp, half moan, entirely desperate. You bring your hand down on her right ass cheek, a sharp, clean slap that leaves a pink print on her skin and makes her whole body clench around you. The tightness is staggering. You feel it from the tip of your cock to the base of your spine. "Moan for me," you tell her.

Rei's head drops. Her shoulders tremble. And when you thrust into her again, she lets it out, a raw, unfiltered moan that she doesn't even try to contain. It's loud enough to bounce off the walls of your minimalist bedroom, and it's the most genuine sound you've heard all day.

"Yes, daddy!" The word falls out of her mouth like it's been sitting there waiting for permission. "Spank my ass more. Please. Harder."

You slap her left cheek this time, harder, and Rei's pussy clenches so tight around you that your rhythm stutters for a second. Her skin blooms red under your palm and she pushes back against you, grinding herself onto your cock with a desperation that's completely unrecognizable from the shy, formal girl who handed you a briefcase forty minutes ago.

"Again," she begs. "Please, daddy, again."

You give her another one, right across the curve where her ass meets her thigh, and the moan she produces is broken and raw and so loud that Yujin stops even pretending Rei is going to eat her out anymore. Rei's face is buried in the mattress between Yujin's legs, her mouth open, drool soaking into the sheets, and every thrust you deliver makes her entire body shake.

Yujin shifts her position, sliding her back up the headboard so she can see better. She spreads her legs wider, her left hand drifting between her own thighs, two fingers finding her clit and starting to rub in slow, tight circles. Her right hand stays in Rei's hair, gripping loosely, more for contact than control now.

"Fuck her good," Yujin tells you, her fingers picking up speed between her legs. "Harder. Reset her brain. I want to see her forget her own name."

You grab Rei's hips and pull her back onto your cock as you thrust forward, and the collision draws a sound out of her that isn't even a moan anymore, it's just noise, raw and broken and high-pitched. Her hands are fisted in the sheets so hard her knuckles have gone white. Her back is arched so deep her stomach nearly touches the mattress. And she's babbling, a stream of fragmented, barely coherent pleas that tumble out of her in between gasps. "So deep, you're so fucking deep, I can feel you in my stomach, don't stop, please don't stop, daddy, please..."

"She called you daddy," Yujin says, rubbing her clit faster, her chest rising and falling with quickening breaths. "Twice. The sweet little rookie is calling you daddy. This is the best day of my professional career."

You maintain the pace, steady and relentless, your cock driving into Rei with a consistency that never lets her come down. Every time she thinks she's caught her breath, you're already bottoming out again, filling her completely, your hips pressed flush against her ass. The wet sounds between you are constant and obscene, and Rei's pussy is so slick that every thrust produces an audible squelch that would be embarrassing in any other context but right now just makes you fuck her harder.

"I think I'm gonna cum," Rei gasps suddenly, and her whole body goes rigid. Her walls clamp down on you so hard you can barely move. Her thighs are shaking violently, her toes curling, her fingers tearing at the sheets. "Holy shit. Holy shit, I'm going to cum on your dick. I'm going to cum, I can't stop it, it's right there..."

"Cum for me." You grip her hips and keep your pace exactly where it is, deep and firm, hitting that spot inside her with every stroke. "Cum like a good girl."

"Yes, daddy." Her entire body is vibrating. Her head lifts off the mattress and her back arches and her mouth opens and nothing comes out for a second, two seconds, three seconds. "Yes, daddy, I'm cumming, I'm cumming, I'm—"

Yujin exhales sharply, her fingers a blur between her own legs. "Fuck, it's so hot watching her like this. She's completely gone. I'm almost cumming just from looking at her."

Rei's orgasm hits her suddenly and all at once. Her body locks up completely, every muscle tensed, and then she lets out a sharp, sustained moan that breaks in the middle and keeps going. You feel it around your cock, intense rhythmic contractions that squeeze and release, squeeze and release, her pussy pulsing around you in waves. Her thighs clamp against your hips. Her fingers claw the sheets so hard you hear fabric rip. The flush on her skin darkens to a deep, blotchy red that spreads from her cheeks down her neck to her shoulders.

You slow your pace, dragging it out. Long, deep, lazy strokes that keep her trembling, keep the contractions going, coax every last tremor out of her. Every slow thrust draws another whimper from her, smaller now, softer, her body twitching each time you push in. You can feel the aftershocks rippling through her, her walls fluttering weakly around your cock, and the wet heat between you is almost unbearable.

Gradually, Rei's body goes slack. Her knees give out and she melts onto her stomach, sinking into the mattress with the boneless grace of someone whose skeleton has temporarily left the building. She's still shaking, tiny little aftershocks running through her limbs, and her breathing is ragged and uneven. You lean over her, your chest close to her back, and press your lips to her shoulder. She's warm and damp with sweat and she smells faintly like floral fruity perfume and sex.

Rei turns her head on the pillow and looks up at you. Her eyes are glazed. Her lips are parted. Her hair is plastered to her forehead in sweaty strands. And she's smiling. It's the dumbest, happiest, most sex-drunk grin you've ever seen on a human face, the kind of smile that only happens when someone's brain is still rebooting after a catastrophic pleasure event. "I can't believe Wonyoung never tried your cock," she mumbles, still catching her breath. "What a waste. What an absolute waste. She had this the entire time and she never once sat on it."

"Her loss,” you say.

"Her monumental loss." Rei shifts slightly, wincing at the sensitivity, then settles back into the mattress with a contented sigh. "I barely had one orgasm and I already want more. My legs don't work though. Give me a minute."

"Take your time."

"Nope." Yujin is already moving. She crawls across the bed with the energy of someone who's been watching the previews and is ready for the main feature. She nudges Rei's leg out of the way and settles between yours, her fingers wrapping around your cock, still slick and hard and coated in the evidence of Rei's orgasm. She looks at it for a second, appraising, then lowers her mouth and takes you in.

The taste of Rei's cum on your cock makes Yujin hum appreciatively, a low, sustained vibration around your shaft that sends a shockwave through your hips. She sucks slowly, savoring it, her tongue swirling and pressing, cleaning every inch of you with a thoroughness that's almost meditative. She pulls off with a wet sound and licks her lips.

"Tastes so good," she says, stroking you lazily, her thumb smearing Rei's slickness along the shaft. "Like Coke."

From somewhere behind her, Rei grunts. "Stop it!"

A pillow flies across the bed and catches Yujin in the side of the head. She catches it one-handed before it falls, laughing so hard her shoulders shake, and tosses it onto the floor. "Chill! I’m kidding..." She gives your cock one more long, slow lick from base to tip, then releases you and crawls forward, positioning herself above you.

Yujin straddles your hips, her knees on either side of your waist, her hands flat on your chest. She's lean and warm above you, her dark hair hanging around her face, her small breasts catching the light from the windows. Up close, you can see the thin sheen of sweat on her collarbones, the slight flush across her chest, the way her pupils are blown wide despite the composed expression she's wearing. She reaches back with one hand and takes hold of your cock, angling it upward, and you feel the head press against her entrance, hot and slick. She's wetter than she probably wants to admit.

She holds you there, right at the edge, not letting you in. She looks down at you with an expression that's part challenge, part warning. "Let's see what all the fuss is about." She rolls her hips slightly, teasing, the tip of your cock sliding through her wetness without entering. "I should tell you upfront. I'm not easily impressed. Not like Rei."

From across the bed, Rei lifts her head just enough to protest. "I wasn't easily impressed, his dick is just really good."

"You called him daddy within five minutes."

"He earned it." Yujin ignores her. She adjusts her grip on your cock, positions it exactly where she wants it, and locks eyes with you. "Ready?"

"Yes. Let's see if the professional is really that good."

Yujin's eyebrow lifts. A slow, dangerous arch. "Are you challenging me?"

"I am."

She grins. "You just made a very big mistake." She shifts her weight above you, her thighs flexing on either side of your hips. "New rule. Whoever orgasms first loses. And the loser has to fulfill one request from the winner. Anything. No limits, no negotiations, no backing out. Are you in?"

"Yeah, I'm in,” you say, confidently.

"Good." Yujin sinks down onto your cock. Her jaw tightens and her eyes narrow but she doesn't make a sound, taking you inside her with a controlled patience that's almost defiant. She's tight, not as tight as Rei but tight in a different way, her muscles gripping you with an intentional squeeze that tells you she knows exactly what she's doing with her body. When she bottoms out, her ass flush against your thighs, she lets out a single measured breath through her nose and rolls her shoulders.

From the other side of the bed, Rei is lying on her stomach, chin propped on her hands, watching the two of you with the satisfied, dreamy look of someone who just got thoroughly fucked and is now enjoying the show. She catches your eye and gives you a small, conspiratorial nod. "I'm rooting for you."

Yujin's head whips toward her. "Traitor. Traitor to the entire gender. I'm writing you up for this."

"Write me up all you want. I want him to win."

"You've known him for an hour. I expected a bit more from you.” Yujin turns back to you and starts to move. Torturously slow. She lifts her hips until just the head of your cock is inside her, holds there for a count that feels like an eternity, then sinks back down in one fluid, rolling motion. It's sensual in a way that's almost aggressive, every movement calculated to make you feel as much as possible while she gives away nothing. Her stomach flexes. Her thighs tense. She keeps her eyes locked on yours the entire time, watching for any crack in your composure, any twitch, any tell.

"So," she says, rolling her hips in a slow circle that makes your fingers dig into the sheets. "Do you know what you'll ask for? If, hypothetically, by some miracle, you manage to win this bet?"

You look up at her. At both of them. "I wanna get to know you two better. I want to take you both out. Get dinner. actually having a real conversation instead of just this… transactional sex."

Yujin laughs. "A date? That's your big ask? You could ask for anything and you want to take us to dinner?" She shakes her head, still riding you with that agonizing slowness. "Smart aleck. Trying to charm us. Well, it doesn't matter, because you're not going to win. We'll finish the job today and you'll never see either of us again. We serve Wonyoung."

"I can treat you both better than she does,” you argue.

Yujin's rhythm falters for just a fraction of a second. Barely noticeable. She covers it immediately. "Oh yeah?"

"As people. Not tools for her to dispatch whenever she can't be bothered to handle her own life."

The room goes quiet for a beat. Just the wet, slick sound of Yujin moving on you and the soft rustle of sheets. Then she starts bouncing. Properly bouncing, lifting herself up and dropping back down with a snap of her hips that drives your cock deep and draws a sharp exhale from your chest. Her ass connects with your thighs on every downstroke and the impact sends ripples through her body that you can feel in your teeth.

She's good. She's really fucking good. The way she angles her hips, the way she squeezes you at the top of each bounce, the way she uses her weight on the drop. Her ass is incredible, firm and round, and watching it work as she rides you is pure bliss.

"What about you?" you manage, keeping your breathing even through sheer willpower. "What's your request if you win?"

Yujin's grin turns feral. She leans forward, her hands on your chest, her face close to yours. "I'm going to fuck your ass." You swallow hard. "There's a strap-on in the briefcase in the living room. You're going to be my slut." She punctuates this with a hard downward thrust that buries you to the hilt. "I'm going to bend you over this very expensive bed and make you call me mommy."

Across the bed, Rei buries her face in the pillow. Her ears are bright red. You can hear her muffled squeak of shock through the cotton.

You hold Yujin's gaze. You keep your expression perfectly flat, perfectly unbothered, even though she's riding your cock like she's trying to break it. "Then maybe you'd better try harder. I've had better rides from girls before."

Her face changes instantly, the playful confidence slipping away as raw irritation takes its place. Her jaw clenches, her eyes narrow, and she starts riding you harder, slamming herself down with a ferocity that shakes the entire bed frame. Her pace doubles, then triples, her hips working furiously, the wet slap of skin against skin filling the room in a relentless rhythm. She's going to make you cum through sheer force of will and spite, and honestly the strategy isn't bad.

But it's costing her. Her breathing is getting ragged. Short, sharp inhales through her nose, quick exhales through parted lips. And the moans, the ones she's been holding back since this started, are beginning to leak out. Small ones at first, barely more than breathy gasps, but they're growing in volume and frequency with every passing second. Her thighs are trembling. The flush across her chest is deepening. "Rei." Yujin's composure is cracking and she knows it. "Help me. Do something. Get over here."

Rei lifts her head from the pillow and looks at you, questioning. You give her a small nod. It's fine. She crawls across the bed to your side, her body still flushed and marked from her own session, and lowers her mouth to your chest. Her lips close around your left nipple and she sucks gently, her tongue flicking across the sensitive skin, and the added sensation sends a jolt straight down your spine to your cock. Rei's hand rests on your stomach, warm and grounding, and she alternates between soft licks and gentle suction, her eyes closed, completely content in her supporting role.

You place both hands on Yujin's waist. Your thumbs press into the grooves of her hip bones and you guide her rhythm, not changing it, just steadying it, controlling the angle so that every time she drops down your cock hits exactly where it needs to. Yujin lets you, too focused on maintaining her pace to fight the direction, and the adjustment makes her next moan come out louder than the ones before.

You watch her. The way her stomach flexes with every movement. The way her small breasts bounce with each impact. The way her dark hair swings and sticks to the sweat on her neck and shoulders. The way her lips part and her brow furrows with concentration and barely contained pleasure. She's stunning. Absolutely, unreasonably stunning, in a way that's completely different from Rei's softness, all sharp angles and lean muscle and controlled power that's currently losing its grip. "You're gorgeous," you tell her.

Her eyes snap to yours. "What?"

"You're gorgeous. I'm looking at you riding me and you're the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen." Something complicated happens on Yujin's face. She tries to smirk but it comes out uneven, one corner of her mouth lifting while the other trembles. Her rhythm stutters and she has to reset, grinding down on you to find her pace again. "More gorgeous than Wonyoung?"

"Yes. A lot more."

The reaction is subtle but it's there. A softening around her eyes. A looseness in her shoulders that wasn't there before. Her fingers, braced on your chest, press a little harder, like she's anchoring herself to something. She liked it. She liked it a lot, and she's going to go to her grave before she admits that out loud. "You just broke up with your girlfriend," she says, and her attempt at a dismissive tone is undercut by the breathlessness in every syllable, "and you're already hitting on someone else. You're a slut. All men are the same. Every single one."

Rei detaches from your nipple, her chin resting on your chest, and looks up at Yujin with raised eyebrows. "You're being too bratty."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me." Rei's hand squeezes your stomach once, encouraging. A grin spreads across her face, still loopy from her own orgasm. "Daddy, put her in her place."

You tighten your grip on Yujin's waist. She sees the shift in your expression half a second before she feels it, and her eyes widen just slightly. "Wait, what are you..." You plant your feet flat on the mattress and thrust upward. Hard. A single, powerful stroke that drives your cock deep inside her and lifts her knees off the bed for a fraction of a second. The sound that comes out of Yujin's mouth is loud and unguarded and completely involuntary, a full, open moan that she claps her hand over a second too late.

"Oh fuck," she whispers behind her fingers.

And you don't stop. You grab her hips and start fucking her from below, driving up into her with a pace that's fast and punishing and completely controlled. Every thrust is deep, the kind of deep that makes her stomach clench visibly, and you're not letting her set the rhythm anymore. She's riding you but you're the one in charge now, using your grip on her waist to pull her down onto every upstroke, meeting her body with a force that turns her controlled bouncing into something messy and desperate.

The transformation is immediate. Yujin's hands drop from her face to your chest for stability, her fingers splayed, her nails digging in. Her head falls forward, hair curtaining around her face, and the moans are coming freely now. Real moans. Loud, surprised, helpless moans that she couldn't stop if she tried. Her thighs are shaking against your sides, her abs are twitching, and the wet sounds between you have gotten louder, sloppier, more urgent.

"Oh my god," she breathes, and her hips jerk involuntarily. "How are you... what the fuck, how are you this..."

"This what?" you ask, not slowing down.

She grits her teeth, refusing to finish the sentence, but another deep thrust pulls a whine from her that answers the question anyway. Her back arches and she grinds down onto you, trying to find some control, some leverage, and you give it to her for exactly two seconds before slamming up into her again and watching her composure shatter.

You shift the angle slightly, tilting your hips, and on the next thrust you feel Yujin's entire body seize. Every muscle locks, her nails claw into your chest, and the moan that tears out of her throat is so raw and so loud that it makes Rei's eyebrows shoot up. You found the spot. You keep the angle and fuck into it relentlessly, steady and deep and unforgiving, and Yujin's composure doesn't just crack, it collapses.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she chants, her head thrown back, her throat exposed, her body bouncing on you helplessly. She's not riding you anymore. She's holding on. "You're so fucking deep, oh my god, you're so fucking deep and hard and I can't..."

She catches herself. Bites down on her lower lip so hard it goes white. Straightens up and plants her hands on your stomach, trying to wrestle back control. Her hips start moving again, grinding in slow circles, and she looks down at you with an expression that's equal parts furious and aroused. "I'm not losing this bet," she says, and the tremble in her thighs says otherwise.

Rei rolls onto her side, propping her head up on one hand, watching Yujin bounce on your cock with the serene satisfaction of someone who already got hers. "You really don't look like someone who's winning, Yujin."

"If I don’t peg his ass," Yujin pants between thrusts, her thighs trembling around your hips, "I'm fucking yours."

"Mm, I don't think so." Rei stretches lazily, running her fingers along the damp sheets. "After daddy makes you cum, you're not going to have the strength to get out of this bed. Trust me. I speak from very recent experience."

Yujin grinds down on you, her jaw tight, sweat rolling down her neck into the valley between her breasts. She shakes her head, stubborn to the bone. "His dick isn't even that good. Very overrated. All this hype for a solid six out of ten at best."

You plant your feet and drive up into her so hard that her hands slip off your chest. Her eyes roll back, her whole body jolting, and the moan that comes out of her is guttural and helpless and completely involuntary. She catches herself with both palms flat on your stomach, fingers splayed, panting, and for a second she just stays there, impaled on you, her brain clearly buffering.

You look at Rei. "Give me some space." Rei scoots back immediately, pulling a pillow with her, settling in cross-legged near the foot of the bed with the eager posture of someone who just got front-row seats to the best show of her life. You turn your attention back to Yujin, who's still trying to reassemble her composure above you. "You sound a lot better moaning than you do talking all that bullshit."

"That's so fucking rude,” she grumbles. “You don't get to tell me when to talk and when to..."

You tighten your grip on her waist. Both hands, firm, fingers digging into the lean muscle of her hips. In one fluid motion, you lift her off your cock, shift your weight, and flip her onto her back on the mattress. The air leaves her lungs in a sharp gasp as her shoulders hit the sheets, her hair fanning out around her head, her legs falling open on either side of you. Before she can process the change in position, you're already between her thighs, one hand pressing her hip into the mattress, the other guiding your cock back inside her. You push in with a single, deep stroke that fills her completely, and Yujin's entire body arches off the bed.

"Oh, fuck—" Now you're on top. Now you're in control. And from the way Yujin's eyes have gone wide and glassy, she knows it too. You set a pace that's fast and hard and unrelenting, your hips slamming into hers with a force that shakes the headboard against the wall.

Each thrust drives deep, bottoming out, and the wet, obscene sound of your cock pounding into her fills the room alongside Yujin's increasingly desperate moaning. Her legs wrap around your waist instinctively, her heels digging into the small of your back, pulling you closer even as her hands push against your chest in a confused, contradictory bid for some kind of control she's already lost.

"You're such a fucking asshole," she spits, but her pussy is clenching around you so tight with every thrust that the insult loses all its teeth. "You absolute piece of shit, you think you're so fucking special because your dick is big and you can last a long time, you arrogant, smug, insufferable..."

"Keep going." You thrust harder, deeper, angling your hips to hit that same spot that made her fall apart earlier. "Every time you insult me, I just want to fuck you harder."

"You're the worst lay I've ever had." Another thrust. She chokes on a moan. "You have no technique. Zero finesse. You're just a rich boy with a big cock and no personality."

"That's a lot of talking for someone who's shaking."

"I'm not shaking." She's shaking. Her entire body is trembling beneath you, her thighs quivering against your ribs, her stomach muscles twitching every time you bottom out. The insults keep coming but they're getting shorter, more fragmented, punctuated by moans she can't swallow anymore.

You bring your right hand up and place it on her throat. Not squeezing. Not choking. Just resting there, your fingers curled around the column of her neck, your thumb against her pulse point, a firm, steady pressure that says everything without applying any real force.

Yujin's reaction is nuclear. Her eyes blow wide, her back arches so sharply that only her shoulders and hips are touching the mattress, and the sound that comes out of her mouth is raw and loud enough to make Rei flinch at the foot of the bed. Her hands fly up and grab your wrist, not to pull your hand away, but to hold it there. Her fingers wrap around your forearm and grip so hard you can feel her nails leaving crescents in your skin.

"Oh my god," she breathes, and her pussy clenches around you so hard your vision blurs for a second. "Oh my fucking god."

"Holy shit," Rei whispers from the foot of the bed. She's sitting forward, her eyes huge, her lips parted, her thighs pressed together. "That's so hot. That's so incredibly hot. Fuck her, daddy. Fuck her harder." You maintain the hand on Yujin's throat and pound into her, your hips relentless, each stroke driving so deep you can feel her cervix, feel the full length of you burying inside her again and again. Yujin's legs tighten around you, her heels locked behind your back, and she's pulling you into her on every thrust, her body working against her brain's protestations.

She's fighting it. You can see the battle playing out in real time on her face, the way she bites her lip, the way she squeezes her eyes shut, the way she tries to slow her own breathing. She's fighting the orgasm with everything she has, refusing to let it happen, refusing to lose. Her jaw is clenched so tight the muscles in her neck cord beneath your palm. "I'm not going to cum," she says through gritted teeth, but it comes out like a plea, not a statement. "I'm not. I refuse. I don't lose. I never lose."

"Cum on his cock, Yujin." Rei has crawled closer now, kneeling beside the two of you, her face flushed, her eyes bright with a wildness that wasn't there an hour ago. "Just let it go. It's going to be the best orgasm of your life. I promise."

"No." Yujin shakes her head against the pillow, her hair sticking to her face. "No, no, no, I'm not going to..." You hit the spot again. Hard. And hold there, grinding the head of your cock against that swollen ridge inside her while your thumb presses just slightly firmer against the side of her throat. Yujin's mouth opens. Her eyes go wide. Her hands fly from your wrist to the sheets, fisting the fabric.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck..." It pours out of her in a continuous, panicked stream, each repetition higher and more desperate than the last. Her hips are bucking up against you, meeting your thrusts with involuntary, frantic movements she's clearly not controlling anymore. The flush on her chest has spread to her face, her neck, her ears. "You're going to make me cum. Damn it. Damn it, you're going to make me cum."

"That's it," Rei breathes, leaning close to Yujin's ear, her hand finding Yujin's thigh and squeezing. "Cum for him. Make her cum, daddy. Fuck it out of her."

Yujin's body goes rigid beneath you. Every muscle locks. Her back arches, her thighs clamp around your waist like a vice, the orgasm hits her and her mouth opens in a scream that your hand on her throat compresses into a strangled, ragged moan, muffled but still audible, still raw, still the loudest thing in the room. You feel it around your cock, a violent, rhythmic clenching that squeezes you in waves, her entire body convulsing beneath you, her hips jerking against yours in uncontrollable spasms. Her eyes are squeezed shut and there are tears at the corners, not from pain, from intensity, from the sheer overwhelming force of what's ripping through her.

You release her throat.

The sound that erupts from Yujin is unholy. A full, unrestricted moan that tears itself from her chest and fills the room, followed immediately by a series of gasped, broken syllables that aren't really words anymore. Her hands fly to your arms, gripping your biceps, and her whole body starts shaking, genuine, full-body tremors that make the bed vibrate beneath you.

"You won." It comes out wrecked, barely intelligible. "Damn it. You won. Fuck. I can't take it anymore. Stop. I can't..."

But you don't stop. You keep the same pace, your cock driving into her still-spasming pussy, and the hypersensitivity hits her like a second wave. Her eyes snap open and they're unfocused, pupils blown, tears tracking down her temples into her hair. Her mouth moves but nothing coherent comes out for a few seconds, just gasps and whimpers and fragments of sounds.

"She can take it." Rei's kneeling beside Yujin with a grin on her face that borders on feral. "She's a slut. Keep going."

"No no no no, fuck, please." Yujin's head thrashes on the pillow, her nails dragging red lines down your arms. "Daddy, no. Please, daddy, stop. You're going to make me cum again if you keep going like this. I can't. My body can't. Please."

That's exactly what you want. You grab her thighs and push them wider, opening her up completely, and fuck into her with everything you have. Deep, hard, constant, targeting that same angle, that same spot, and Yujin's protests dissolve into a continuous, high-pitched moan that climbs in pitch with every thrust. Her hands grab at everything, your arms, the sheets, the pillow behind her head, the headboard. Her body is arching and writhing beneath you, completely out of her own control.

"Fuck, fuck, I'm cumming, oh god I'm cumming again, I can't stop it, it's happe—”

The second orgasm slams into her harder than the first. Yujin screams, a real scream, sharp and loud and broken, and her body bows off the mattress. You feel a sudden rush of warmth around your cock, slick and hot and forceful, and then you see it. She's squirting. A hard, pulsing spray that soaks your stomach, your thighs, the sheets beneath her. It just keeps coming, her pussy clenching and releasing in violent contractions around your cock, each one pushing out another warm jet.

Rei's eyes go enormous. For exactly one second, she stares. Then she moves.

Her hand shoots between Yujin's legs and two fingers find Yujin's clit, exposed and swollen and drenched, and she starts rubbing. Fast. Hard. Aggressive circles with her fingertips pressed flat against the sensitive nub, and the effect is immediate and devastating. Yujin's squirting intensifies, the spray arcing higher, soaking Rei's wrist and forearm, splashing against your abs. Yujin's screams have gone silent, her mouth open, her body locked in a sustained convulsion, only her heels and shoulders touching the bed.

Rei giggles, bright and delighted, watching the chaos Yujin is making with the same breathless fascination as someone mesmerized by a burst of fireworks. "Look at all of that. Look at her go. She's making such a mess." Her fingers don't stop, rubbing Yujin's clit with a relentless enthusiasm that borders on cruel, and every pass of her fingertips draws another gush from Yujin's trembling body. "Come on, Yujin. Give us more. I know you've got more."

Yujin's hand grabs Rei's wrist weakly, trying to push her away, but there's no strength behind it. Her body is spent, wrung out, every muscle exhausted from the sustained intensity of two consecutive orgasms. She's making sounds that aren't moans or screams but something in between, small, broken, hitching gasps, her chest heaving, her stomach flexing with each aftershock.

You pull out. Slow, careful. And as your cock slides free, one last jet of clear fluid pulses from Yujin's swollen, flushed pussy, splashing against your thigh before trailing down between her legs and pooling on the already ruined sheets. Rei finally pulls her hand away, her fingers glistening, and wipes them on the sheet next to Yujin's hip with a casual nonchalance that makes you shake your head.

Yujin lies there. Breathing. Trembling. Her legs are still spread, too heavy to move, and her arms are limp at her sides. Her hair is a dark, tangled mess across the pillow. Her skin is flushed from her face to her navel, blotchy and pink and damp with sweat. Her eyes are closed and her lips are parted and her chest rises and falls in deep, unsteady rhythms that gradually, slowly, begin to even out.

You lean down and press your lips to her cheek. Soft. Unhurried. You can taste the salt of her sweat on her skin. "Looks like I won."

Yujin's arms come up and wrap around your neck. She pulls you down against her, tight, her face burying into the crook of your shoulder. She's holding you like someone who just survived something, her fingers gripping the back of your neck, her body still trembling in small aftershocks against yours. The embrace is fierce and needy and completely at odds with everything she's projected since she walked out of that elevator. You let her hold on. You settle your weight carefully, not crushing her, and let her take what she needs.

Rei tilts her head, watching the two of you with a soft, teasing smile. "Look at that. Daddy softened up the bratty girl."

"Shut up," Yujin mumbles into your shoulder, but there's no harshness in it. There's barely any volume.

You pull away slightly, just enough to meet her gaze. Her eyes are open now, softer, different - no more sharpness. Just a stunned, wide look, like she’s still trying to piece together what just happened. Her lips are swollen and her mascara has smudged slightly at the corners of her eyes and she looks completely, thoroughly, beautifully wrecked.

She grabs the back of your neck with one hand and pulls you down into a kiss. Not teasing, not competitive, not calculated. Hard. Deep. Her mouth opens against yours and she kisses you with a hunger that tastes like surrender, her tongue pressing against yours, her teeth catching your lower lip. Her other hand comes up to cup your jaw, holding you there, and when the kiss finally breaks she doesn't let you pull away. She keeps your face close, her forehead against yours, and brushes her nose against yours. Once. Twice. An almost unbearably tender gesture from someone who, five minutes ago, was calling you every name in the book.

A small, mischievous smile curls the corner of her mouth. Her thumb traces your jawline. "That was the best orgasm of my life," she murmurs, her breath warm against your lips. "Motherfucker. Congratulations."

Yujin turns her head on the pillow and looks at Rei, who's sprawled out on her stomach beside you both, chin resting on her folded arms, looking entirely too pleased with herself. Yujin narrows her eyes. "You were way too harsh on me back there. The little bird has claws."

Rei shrugs one shoulder, not even a little apologetic. "It was really fun. And you had it coming."

"I had it coming?"

"You called me a slut like four times today."

"That's because you are one. But fine." Yujin's mouth twitches. Something almost warm passes through her expression. "I'm proud of you. You were vicious. I respect vicious."

"Thank you. I learned from the best."

"Damn right you did."

You shift onto your side, propping yourself up on one elbow. "So. I won."

Yujin groans and presses the pillow over her face. Her response comes out muffled through Egyptian cotton. "Yes. You won."

"Which means you owe me a date. Both of you."

She pulls the pillow down just enough to glare at you with one eye. "You're going to complicate my life so badly."

"That seems fair. You two showed up at my apartment unannounced, broke up with me on behalf of my fake girlfriend, threatened me with a lawsuit, and then fucked me. I think one dinner is a pretty mild complication by comparison."

Yujin lets the pillow drop and stares at the ceiling. She exhales slowly, her chest still rising and falling a little faster than normal, the flush on her skin only now beginning to fade. "If Wonyoung finds out, Rei and I are done. Not just fired. Done. She's not the forgive-and-forget type."

"She really isn't," Rei agrees, but her tone is remarkably casual for someone discussing career annihilation. She traces a pattern on the sheet with her fingertip.

"I know she isn't," you say. "Wonyoung's petty. Always has been. She wouldn't care that she dumped me. She'd care that you two are seeing me, because in her head, everything that was hers stays hers. Even the stuff she threw away."

Yujin looks over at you, a subtle flash of surprise in her eyes, as though hearing her own thoughts echoed back in a way she didn’t expect. "That's... exactly right, actually. She'd do so much worse than fire us."

"I know. But she's not going to find out anytime soon. And if she does, I'll handle it. That's my problem, not yours." You hold her gaze. "I've dealt with petty rich people my entire life. I come from a family of them. I know how the game works."

Yujin chews the inside of her cheek, considering. She turns to Rei. "What do you think?"

"Yes!" Rei says instantly.

"Girl, I hadn't even finished the question."

"You were going to ask if we should go on the date. The answer is yes. I don't need to think about it."

Yujin squints at her. "Fifteen minutes ago you were a nervous intern who couldn't open the right briefcase. Now you're making life-altering decisions in half a second?"

"I've had a productive afternoon." Rei rolls onto her side to face both of you, tucking one arm under her head. "I thought I admired Wonyoung. Before I started working with her, I really did. She was this incredible, untouchable person and I wanted to be around that." She pauses, picking at a loose thread on the pillowcase. "Then I actually started working with her, and I saw how she treats people behind closed doors. The way she talks about them. The way she throws them away when they stop being useful." Her eyes drift to yours briefly. "My admiration kind of eroded after that."

The room sits with that for a second. Nobody fills the silence.

"Okay." Yujin pushes herself up on her elbows. "One date. Just one. To see how it goes." She points at you with a finger that still isn't entirely steady. "Don't get your hopes up. I just need to add some variety to my life. Everything's been work, Wonyoung, work, Wonyoung, repeat. A girl needs some seasoning."

"Noted. No hopes. Very low expectations."

"Extremely low. Rock bottom. Subterranean."

"Got it."

Yujin shifts her weight and her hand drifts down between you. Her fingers find your cock, still hard, still flushed and thick against your stomach, and she wraps around it loosely. She gives it a slow, lazy stroke, and then stops. She looks down at it. She looks up at you. "You didn't cum."

"Nope."

"How." It's not a question. It's an accusation. She strokes you again, slow, her thumb circling the head, and watches your cock twitch against her palm. "No guy has ever lasted through me riding them. I've broken every man I've been with. Every single one. And you just... sat there and flipped me over and kept going."

"I've always had good stamina." You fold your arms behind your head, casual, even though her hand on your cock is making it hard to project total nonchalance. "I can get pretty competitive sometimes. Especially when someone threatens to peg me."

Yujin's teeth catch her lower lip. She's trying not to smile and failing at it, a slow, reluctant grin spreading across her face that she absolutely cannot contain. Her hand keeps stroking you, absentminded, her fingers exploring your length and girth like she's cataloguing it for future reference. "I like that," she admits. "I like a guy who doesn't fold."

Rei yawns and stretches, her back arching, her body unfurling against the sheets. The movement is lazy but it draws your attention to every curve, every line, the fullness of her thighs, the soft weight of her breasts shifting as she moves. She catches you looking and doesn't shy away from it this time. "Anyway," Rei says, rolling her neck. "This is all very sweet, but I'm still really horny."

Yujin releases your cock and rolls her eyes so hard her whole head moves. "She's insatiable. One orgasm and she turns into a monster."

"Your fault. You brought me here."

"Fine. Since you're so worked up, go ahead and let him fuck your ass then."

Rei pauses. Looks at you. Looks at Yujin. takes one brief, unashamed look down and shrugs. "Okay."

You sit up slightly. "Hold on. I thought anal was too kinky and filthy. Your exact words."

"I changed my mind." Rei says this with the serene conviction of someone announcing they've decided to try a new restaurant. "A girl can change her mind."

Yujin barks out a laugh. "Please. She's always liked anal. The whole innocent act was bullshit. I knew it the second she said it." She gestures at Rei like a prosecutor presenting evidence. "Look at her. That angelic face. Those big brown eyes. That thick ass." She shakes her head. "Anyone with a functioning brain can see that girl loves a cock in her ass. It's practically tattooed on her forehead."

Rei blinks, and for the first time, she looks genuinely caught off guard. "Is it that obvious? Can people actually tell?"

"Rei. Babe. Everyone who has ever looked at you knows immediately."

"Everyone?"

"It's the combination. The sweet princess face and the body that won't quit. It broadcasts a very specific frequency." Yujin swings her legs off the bed and stands, still naked, still glistening faintly with sweat. "I'm getting the lube from the briefcase. Don't start without me."

She pads out of the bedroom on bare feet, moving with the easy confidence of someone who's entirely comfortable being naked in a stranger's penthouse. The view from behind is excellent. Her ass, round, full, juicy and still faintly pink where the sheets creased against her skin, disappears around the corner.

The second Yujin is out of earshot, Rei scoots closer to you. She puts a hand on your chest and leans in, her lips near your ear, she murmurs: "She called you daddy."

You look at her. "I caught that."

"While you were fucking her. Multiple times." Rei pulls back and grins at you, her nose scrunching. "She was begging. Actual begging. 'Daddy please, daddy no, daddy stop.' She's going to pretend it didn't happen."

"Probably."

"She likes to act all tough and unbothered, like nothing gets to her. But she loves being put in her place. She needs it." Rei taps your chest once with her index finger. "She's been waiting for a guy who wouldn't buckle. Every other guy she's been with folded the second she started pushing. You pushed back harder. That broke her brain."

"You figured all that out in one afternoon?"

"I'm observant." Rei smiles, and there's nothing shy about it anymore. "Also, she talks in her sleep during naps at the office. Very revealing stuff."

You hear Yujin's footsteps coming back down the hall. Rei immediately scoots to a respectable distance and adopts an expression of pure, guileless innocence. The transformation is so seamless it's almost frightening. Yujin rounds the corner holding a bottle of high-end lubricant. She tosses it onto the bed, where it bounces once and lands between Rei's knees. Her gaze flicks between the two of you, eyes narrowing.

"You were talking about me."

"We absolutely were not," Rei says, and she sounds so sincere that even you almost believe her.

Yujin stares at her for two full seconds, then decides she doesn't care enough to pursue it. She climbs back onto the bed and grabs Rei's shoulder, spinning her around. "All fours, little bird. Show's about to start."

Rei catches your eye one more time as she moves into position, and the look she gives you is quick and private and full of mischief. Then she turns, plants her hands on the mattress, and arches her back. Yujin pops the cap on the lube with her thumb. She squeezes a generous amount directly onto Rei's ass, a thick, clear line that drips between her cheeks, and then another dollop onto her own palm. She rubs her hands together, warming it up.

"This one heats up," Yujin says, spreading the lube across Rei's skin with slow strokes. Her fingers glide over the curve of Rei's ass, working the slick between her cheeks, coating everything thoroughly. "High-end stuff. Wonyoung's company card paid for it, so you know it's premium."

Rei shivers. Her back dips and her fingers curl into the sheets. "That feels really good. The warming thing is nice."

"Of course it does. You love being pampered." Yujin's thumb traces a slow circle around Rei's tight hole, spreading the lube, not pushing in yet. Just getting her used to the contact. "And your absolute favorite pampering is a thick cock in your ass. Isn't that right?"

Rei presses her face into the mattress and says nothing, which is an answer in itself. You lean back against the headboard, watching Yujin work. Her fingers are careful, attentive, making sure every inch is slick and warm. It's the kind of consideration that comes from actually giving a shit about someone, not from following a job description. "You don't seem like Wonyoung's biggest fan," you say.

Yujin doesn't look up from what she's doing. "Wonyoung is my boss. I do what she tells me to do. End of story."

"I don't know. Seems like there's more to it."

Her fingers pause on Rei's skin for just a fraction of a second. "Who are you, Sherlock Holmes?" She resumes, her thumb pressing gently against Rei's rim, applying just enough pressure to tease without entering. "Put the magnifying glass away."

"Just making conversation."

Yujin stays quiet for a few seconds. The only sounds are Rei's soft breathing and the wet, slick noise of lube being worked into skin. Then, without prompting, Yujin says, "We used to be closer. Me and Wonyoung. It wasn't always a boss-and-employee thing. There was more to it than that."

You wait. Don't push.

"If you're going to ask what happened, don't bother. Better question is what didn't happen." She squeezes more lube onto her fingers and slides one fingertip just barely inside Rei, who exhales slowly and pushes back against the intrusion. "I don't like talking about it. It's boring and depressing and I've spent enough energy on that woman for one lifetime."

The subject closes itself. You let it go. Yujin works her finger deeper into Rei with a patience that borders on surgical, rotating slowly, letting her adjust, and Rei's breathing gradually shifts from tense to steady to something that sounds a lot like enjoyment. She's rocking her hips back in small, barely-there movements, instinctive, chasing the feeling.

After a moment, Yujin speaks again. Quieter this time, her eyes still on her own hand. "Did you mean what you said earlier?"

"About what?"

"That I'm prettier than Wonyoung."

There it is. Past all the attitude, the sarcasm, the Theatrical indifference - this. A question she couldn't bury, surfacing again the moment she convinced herself enough time had gone by to make it seem offhand. "Yeah. I meant it."

"Why, though?" She adds a second finger alongside the first, scissoring gently, stretching Rei open. Rei whimpers into the mattress, her toes curling. "Wonyoung is one of the most beautiful women on the planet. That's not even an opinion. There are rankings."

“Rankings are bullshit.” You keep your eyes on her. “There’s something in your eyes, Yujin. The way you look at people, the way you talk, even when you’re being a pain in the ass. There’s a spark there. You feel… I don't know, alive? Present?” You pause, choosing your words. “Wonyoung’s stunning, yeah, but she’s like a photograph. Perfect, but still. You’re not. You’re always moving. That’s why it’s so hard to look away from you.”

Yujin's hand goes still inside Rei. For a couple of seconds she just stares at you, and something passes across her face that she doesn't manage to hide in time. Her throat bobs with a swallow. Then she blinks, resets, and the classic Yujin is back, smooth as ever. "Jesus Christ." She looks away, her mouth twitching. "You could've just said I'm hotter than her. You didn't need to write a whole TED Talk about my eyes."

"That too. You're way hotter than her."

"Obviously." She pulls her fingers out of Rei and wipes them on the sheet. The flush on her cheeks has nothing to do with exertion. She slaps Rei's ass with a crisp, ringing smack that makes Rei yelp. "She's ready. All warmed up and stretched. Now all that's missing is your dick."

Yujin turns to you, grabs your cock, and squeezes the bottle directly onto the shaft. The lube is warm, almost hot, and it runs down your length in thick rivulets. She strokes you with both hands, one twisting at the base while the other slides up and over the head, spreading the slickness everywhere, making sure every inch is coated. "You're not small," she says, matter-of-fact, her fist gliding up your lubed shaft. "So go slow or you'll break her."

"I'm right here," Rei says from all fours, looking back over her shoulder. "And I'm not fragile."

"Your ass is about to have a very different opinion on that."

Yujin gives your cock one final stroke, root to tip, and releases it. She wipes her hands on the sheets, already ruined beyond salvation, and scoots to the side, settling into a cross-legged position near the pillows with a clear sightline to the action. Supervising.

You move behind Rei. She's on her hands and knees, her back arched, her ass pushed up and out toward you. The lube is everywhere, glossy and warm, catching the light from the windows. Her hole is slick and relaxed from Yujin's prep work, pink and tight and glistening. You run one hand up the back of her thigh, over the swell of her ass, and she pushes back against your touch, eager.

You grip the base of your cock and press the head against her. The contact alone makes her tense, a reflexive clench that tightens everything, and you hold still. Just the tip against her, not pushing, letting the warmth of the lube and the pressure do the work.

"I'm going to start. Tell me if you need me to stop."

Rei nods. Her fingers are bunched in the sheets, her head hanging between her shoulders. "Go ahead."

You push forward. Gentle. Steady. The head of your cock presses against her ring and meets resistance, firm and tight, her body instinctively clenching against the intrusion. You hold the pressure, not forcing, just a constant forward push, and after a few seconds you feel her start to relax. The muscle yields, slowly, incrementally, and the head slips inside.

Rei sucks in a sharp breath through her teeth. Her back goes rigid and her knuckles go white in the sheets. She's impossibly tight around you, her ass gripping the head of your cock with a pressure that's almost painful, hot and slick from the lube but so constricting it takes genuine effort not to just shove forward.

"Breathe," Yujin says from her perch near the pillows. She's watching with her head tilted, clinical and attentive. "Don't tense up. Push out, not in. Let him in."

Rei exhales slowly. You feel the shift, a conscious relaxation that eases the grip around you just enough to move. You push another inch inside her and Rei's mouth falls open, a long, shaky exhale escaping her.

"How's it feel?" Yujin asks.

"Big," Rei manages. "Really, really big."

"I told you." Yujin looks at you. "Slower."

You give Rei a moment. Your hands rest on her hips, thumbs tracing small circles on her skin, grounding her. When you feel her body soften again, you push deeper. Another inch. The lube does its job, the warming sensation easing the slide, and Rei groans low in her throat. It's a sound of fullness, of being stretched in a way that walks the tightrope between too much and exactly enough.

"That's it," Yujin murmurs. "Keep going. You're doing great, little bird."

Another inch. You're halfway in now, and the tightness is unreal. Nothing like her pussy. This is a different kind of grip entirely, relentless and uniform, squeezing every millimeter of your cock with equal, crushing pressure. The heat is staggering. Rei's thighs are quivering, her breathing short and fast, and every tiny movement you make sends a visible tremor through her body.

"More," Rei whispers. "Keep going." You push deeper. So slow it's almost painful for you, the urge to thrust fighting against every ounce of restraint you have. The lube squelches obscenely as you slide further in, and Rei lets out a broken, stuttering moan that builds in volume the deeper you go. Her ass is swallowing you inch by inch, her body opening for you, and the visual alone, your thick, glistening cock disappearing into her tight little hole, her round ass pressed against your hips, is enough to make your pulse hammer in your ears.

"Almost there," Yujin narrates, leaning to the side to get a better angle. "About two inches left. She's taking it like a champ."

"I can feel every single inch of him," Rei says, and her tone is dazed, almost drunk. "Every ridge. Everything."

You push the last two inches in slowly, steadily, until your hips press flush against her ass. All of you. Every inch buried inside her. Rei's body shudders beneath you and she lets out a sound that's half gasp, half sob, her face dropping to the mattress, her fingers twisted in the sheets so hard the fitted corner pops off.

"There you go," Yujin says. "All of it. How do you feel?"

Rei doesn't answer right away. She's breathing in short, shallow bursts, her body adjusting to the fullness, the stretch, the sheer overwhelming presence of your cock lodged deep in her ass. You hold completely still, giving her time, and you can feel her pulse throbbing around you, fast and heavy.

Then she lifts her head. Turns to look at you over her shoulder and says: "I'm ready, daddy." Her hips push back against you, taking you deeper, and the moan that leaves her mouth is filthy and absolutely nothing like the girl who asked for a Coke two hours ago. "Please fuck your good girl's ass."

You pull back. Feel every inch of her gripping you as you slide out until just the head remains inside, her rim stretched tight around the thickest part of you. Then you push forward again, steady, controlled, and Rei's whole body sinks into the mattress as you fill her. Her fingers claw the sheets and a long, trembling moan pours out of her, muffled against the pillow, a sound that starts in the gut and doesn't stop until there's no air left.

She's perfect on all fours. Back arched deep, ass pushed up and round and full, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders and sticking to the sweat on her skin. Every slow thrust makes her body rock forward, her breasts swaying beneath her, her thighs trembling with the effort of holding position. The lube has made everything slick and warm and the friction is sinful, that impossible tightness squeezing you on every stroke, hot and constant and so good your jaw aches from clenching it. "Deeper," Rei breathes. Her hips push back against you, greedy, impatient. "Go deeper. I want all of it."

You give her all of it. Bottom out with a slow grind that makes her toes curl and her spine flex. She lets out a choked, guttural sound and her arms give out, her chest dropping to the mattress, face turned sideways, mouth open. "Fuck, your cock is so good in my ass," she moans, pushing back onto you, taking you deeper even though there's nowhere deeper to go. "It's so thick. I can feel you stretching me open. Every single inch."

Yujin is sitting cross-legged beside the two of you, close enough to touch, her chin propped on her fist. She's watching Rei with an expression that's somewhere between a proud older sister and a director reviewing her best actress's career-defining performance. Her eyes are bright, engaged, drinking in every moan and tremble with obvious relish.

"Look at you, little bird." Yujin reaches over and traces a single finger down Rei's spine, from the nape of her neck to the small of her back, and Rei arches into the touch. "All that 'it's too kinky and filthy' bullshit. Too kinky for her. Can't do anal. Absolutely not." She laughs. "And now you've got a fat cock balls deep in your ass and you're begging for more. You're a natural."

"I am," Rei pants, and there's zero irony in it. "I'm a natural. I love it. I love his cock in my ass."

"Tell him that. Don't tell me. Look at him and tell him how much you love it."

Rei cranes her neck to look back at you over her shoulder. Her lips are swollen, parted and there's a strand of saliva connecting her lower lip to the pillow. She looks absolutely ruined. "I love your cock in my ass, daddy." She pushes back against you again, a slow, rolling grind that takes you deeper. "Please don't stop. Please keep fucking me."

You grip her hips tighter and pick up the pace. Not fast yet, but firmer, more rhythmic, each thrust landing with a slap of skin that punctuates the wet, obscene sounds between you. Rei drops her head and moans into the mattress, long and loud and completely uninhibited, and her hands slide forward on the sheets, reaching for something to hold onto, finding nothing, her fingers just clawing at empty fabric. "Harder," she begs. "I can take it. I promise I can take it."

You give her harder. The pace builds gradually, your hips snapping forward with more force, more speed, and Rei starts making sounds you didn't know she was capable of. Deep, throaty moans that break into whimpers at the peak of each thrust, her body jolting forward with every impact, her ass rippling where your hips collide with it. The lube is doing its job beautifully, everything warm and slick, and the tightness of her ass around your cock is relentless, gripping you from every angle, so snug it's almost unbearable.

"Oh my god," Rei gasps, her fingers twisted in the sheets, pulling them off the corner of the mattress. "Oh my god, oh my god, I can't believe Wonyoung never tried this. She had this the whole time. She had this cock and she never even let you fuck her. She never even let you inside her."

"Wonyoung is a fucking loser," Yujin says, casual and absolute. She shifts closer to Rei, settling onto her knees beside her. "The biggest loser in this whole city. She had a man who could make two girls fall apart in one afternoon and she used him for photo ops."

Yujin brings her hand down on Rei's right ass cheek with a clean, sharp smack that echoes through the bedroom. Rei's whole body clenches, her ass squeezing your cock so hard you have to grit your teeth, and the moan she lets out is wild and broken and grateful.

"Say it," Yujin tells her. She leans close to Rei's ear, her hand resting on the reddening handprint she just left. "Say Wonyoung is a loser. A stupid rich girl playing pretend. Say it, little bird." Another smack, harder than the first. Rei's back arches violently and her hips jerk back onto your cock, taking you deep, her body spasming around you.

"Wonyoung is a loser," Rei moans, her face pressed into the sheets, drool pooling on the cotton. "She's a stupid rich girl who throws people away. She doesn't deserve him. She never deserved him."

Yujin's hand smooths over the red mark on Rei's skin, soothing, possessive. "Good girl. That's my girl." Her fingers trail down between Rei's cheeks, brushing the stretched rim where your cock is splitting her open, feeling the slick junction of the two of you. Rei whimpers at the added touch, pushing back against both of you. "Now say you're hotter than her. Say you're better. Say Wonyoung could never give a blowjob like you gave today. That prissy bitch wouldn't even know where to start."

You thrust harder into Rei, punching deep, and the sound that rips out of her is raw and savage and nothing a polite girl would ever produce.

"I'm hotter than Wonyoung!" Rei practically shouts it into the mattress, her hips bucking back against you. "I'm so much fucking hotter than her. She could never suck a dick like I do. She could never take a cock in her ass like I do. She'd tap out in thirty seconds. She doesn't have the range." Her head lifts, hair falling in sweaty tangles around her face, and her eyes are wild. "And I give better head. Way better. She probably just lies there like a starfish. I bet she's never even made a guy cum with her mouth. I could make him cum three times before she even figured out what to do with her tongue."

Yujin's face lights up with pure, unadulterated glee. She grabs Rei's chin and angles her face upward, looking into those blown-out, frenzied brown eyes. "That's my fucking girl. Don't you dare stop. You hear me?" She slaps Rei's ass again, a stinging crack that makes Rei's whole body seize. "Fuck that cock. I want to see your ass moving. Show daddy what you can do."

Rei plants her palms on the mattress and starts rocking back onto you. Hard. Aggressive. Her hips snap backward, her ass slamming against your pelvis with a force that catches you off guard, impaling herself on your cock with a desperate, single-minded hunger. She's not just taking it anymore. She's fucking herself on you, driving back into every thrust you give, meeting you in the middle, and the combined force of both of you sends shockwaves through her entire body. Her ass bounces against your hips, round and full and glistening with sweat and lube, and the wet, filthy slap of impact fills the room in a constant, accelerating rhythm.

"That's it," Yujin breathes, her eyes locked on where your cock is disappearing into Rei's ass over and over. "That's fucking it. Look at her go. She's a goddamn machine."

"Don't stop, daddy," Rei pants, slamming herself back onto you. "Fuck my ass. Use me. Use my tight little ass. It's yours. Everything is yours." You grab her hips and start meeting her pace with your own, thrusting forward hard every time she pushes back, doubling the impact. The collision of your bodies is brutal, wet, loud and Rei screams into the mattress, a sustained, guttural wail that breaks into stuttered gasps with each thrust. Her ass is clenching around you in frantic, involuntary pulses, so tight you can barely pull out before slamming back in.

"Harder," Yujin commands, and she's talking to both of you. Her hand comes down on Rei's ass again, a rapid series of slaps, one two three, each one drawing a sharp cry from Rei. "I want her stupid. I want her drooling. Fuck her brains out."

You grab a fistful of Rei's hair and pull her head up off the mattress, and what you see confirms that Yujin's already gotten her wish. Rei's face is a wreck. Her mascara has smeared into dark streaks beneath her eyes. Saliva trails from her lower lip to the pillow in a thin, glistening string. Her jaw is hanging open, slack, her tongue half out, her eyes rolling and unfocused. She's trying to say something but the only thing coming out is garbled, fragmented nonsense punctuated by moans that sound barely human.

"More," she manages, and even that single syllable comes out slurred and broken. "More more more more more."

"She's gone," Yujin says, and there's a kind of awe in her expression. "Her brain is completely fried. Look at her. She's drooling on your thousand-dollar pillowcase." She cups Rei's face in both hands, tilting it toward her, examining the damage with a grin that's equal parts cruel and affectionate. "Hey. Rei. What's your name? What year is it? How many fingers am I holding up?"

Rei blinks at her, unfocused. A string of drool stretches from her lip. "Fuck me," she whispers. "Just keep fucking me."

"That's not an answer to any of my questions, but I respect the commitment."

You increase the pressure. Each thrust is deep and hard and unrelenting, your cock driving into her ass with a force that pushes her entire body forward on the mattress, her knees sliding on the sweat-damp sheets. You pull her hips back onto you every time she slides away, keeping her pinned, keeping her full, and Rei has stopped trying to form coherent thoughts entirely. She's just noise now, raw and animal, her body shaking and clenching and trembling beneath you. You can feel it building in her. The way her muscles are tightening, the way her thighs are quaking uncontrollably, the way her ass is gripping you in rhythmic, desperate spasms that are getting shorter and faster and more intense. She's close. Her whole body is a coiled spring about to snap, every nerve ending firing, every muscle tensed to the breaking point.

Her fingers are white-knuckled in the sheets, her toes curled, her back locked in a rigid arch that presses her ass up against you as hard as her body can manage. The moans have gone high and thin and continuous, a keening sound that wavers with each thrust, building and building toward something massive. Yujin sees it too. She's leaning close, one hand still on Rei's face, the other resting on the small of Rei's back, feeling the tremors running through her. Her own breathing has quickened, her nipples hard, her thighs pressed together. She strokes Rei's hair, almost tender, and watches her unravel with hungry, fascinated eyes.

"She's about to blow," Yujin murmurs, looking up at you over Rei's quaking body. "Whatever you're doing, don't you dare stop."

Your hips keep their rhythm, steady and deep, your cock driving into Rei's ass with a force that shakes her entire body. Your balls swing forward with every thrust, slapping against her soaked pussy. Rei's face is buried in the mattress, her fingers twisted in the ruined sheets, her entire body trembling with a vibration that's getting worse, tighter, closer.

"I'm gonna cum," Rei chokes out, and her back arches so deep her stomach nearly touches the bed. "Oh fuck, I'm gonna cum like this. From my ass. I'm gonna cum from your cock in my ass, daddy."

"Cum for daddy." You grip her hips and drive deep, holding there, grinding against that spot deep inside her that makes her whole body clench and spasm. "Let go. Give it to me."

Yujin leans in close to Rei's face, her hand on the back of Rei's neck, fingers threaded through damp, tangled hair. "He said cum, little bird. You heard him. You're his good girl. You deserve this." She strokes Rei's cheek with her thumb, almost maternal, while her other hand reaches under Rei and finds her clit, swollen and slick, and presses down. "Cum for your daddy. He earned it. You earned it."

You pull back and slam forward, burying yourself to the hilt, and Rei's scream is instant and raw. You don't stop. You keep that depth, that angle, fucking into her with short, punishing strokes that never let the pressure drop, your balls slapping against her drenched pussy with every impact. Rei's thighs are shaking so violently her knees are sliding apart on the sheets, and Yujin's fingers on her clit are relentless, rubbing in tight, fast circles that make Rei's whole body jolt and twitch.

"I can't, I can't, I can't," Rei babbles, but her hips are pushing back against you harder than ever, her body chasing what her mouth is trying to deny. "It's too much, it's too much, I'm gonna—"

The orgasm tears through her hard. You feel it before you hear it, her ass clamping down on your cock with a crushing, rhythmic pressure that squeezes you in violent waves. Then the sound hits, a scream that starts in her chest and rips its way out of her throat, high and sharp and sustained, her entire body locking up beneath you.

Her back goes rigid, her toes curl so hard her feet cramp. She convulses against you, her hips bucking in frantic, involuntary jerks, and you feel a rush of wetness flood against your balls as her pussy clenches in sympathy, her whole body detonating at once.

"Yeah, cum," Yujin breathes, her fingers still working Rei's clit through the orgasm, extending it, dragging it out. "Cum like the little slut you are. That's it. All of it. Every fucking drop."

Rei's scream breaks into a series of sobbing, gasping moans, each one weaker than the last, her body shuddering through wave after wave of contractions that you can feel rippling along every inch of your cock. Her arms collapse and she goes flat against the mattress, twitching, her fingers opening and closing on nothing.

You slow down. Pull back, inch by inch, letting her feel every ridge of you as you slide out. Her swollen rim clings to you, stretched and pink and glistening, and when the head finally slips free, Rei's body sags into the mattress with a full-body shudder that runs from her shoulders to her toes.

Rei rolls over onto her back, and the sight of her is extraordinary. Her face is flushed scarlet, her makeup destroyed, mascara streaked in dark smears beneath both eyes. There's drool on her chin, trailing down her neck, and her lips are swollen and parted and curved into the stupidest, most blissed-out smile you have ever seen on a human being.

"This is the best day of my life," she mumbles. "Nothing will ever top this. I peaked. It's all downhill from here."

Yujin leans over her friend's wrecked face and licks a stripe up her chin, collecting the drool on her tongue and swallowing it without a shred of hesitation. Then she cups Rei's face in both hands and peppers her with quick, firm kisses, lips pressing against her cheeks, her forehead, the bridge of her nose, the corner of her mouth.

"You were incredible, babe,” Yujin says between pecks, and there's no sarcasm in it. None. Just genuine, unfiltered pride. "That was beautiful, Rei. You took it so well. You're amazing." Another kiss, on the lips this time, lingering. "My little bird."

Rei's stupid grin gets even stupider. "Thank you, Yujin… Thank you, daddy."

You lean down and brush a strand of sweat-damp hair off her forehead. "Don't thank me. That was all you. You were amazing."

Rei hums contentedly, her eyes drifting shut for a moment, basking. Yujin's gaze drops to your cock. Still hard. Still slick and flushed and thick, jutting up from your hips with an insistence that borders on unreasonable. She stares at it. "You still haven't cum."

"Nope."

"How is that physically possible? You just fucked her ass for..." She trails off, trying to calculate the timeline, and gives up. "A long time. You fucked both of us. Multiple orgasms. Squirting. Anal. And you're still hard."

"Girls cum first. That's always been my rule. I like making sure they're taken care of before I worry about myself."

Yujin's lips part slightly. "That's... actually really hot. You keep surprising me. I came here today expecting some spoiled rich kid who couldn't find the clit with a map and a flashlight. You're nothing like what I expected."

"Good surprises?" You ask.

"Really good surprises. Now wait here, both of you. Don't move."

Yujin climbs off the bed and walks out of the bedroom. You watch her lean figure disappear around the corner with her stride purposeful and quick.

Rei lifts her head. "Where's she going?"

No answer. Just the sound of the briefcase clicking open in the living room. Rei lets her head fall back against the mattress and turns to look at you. That loopy grin is still plastered across her ruined face. "I'm excited for the date," she says softly. "I already know what I'm going to wear. I have this dress that I bought months ago and never had a reason to put on."

"Yeah?"

"It's dark green. It makes my eyes look good." She rolls onto her side, facing you, tucking her hands under her cheek. "Yujin's going to pretend she doesn't care. She's probably going to complain the whole time about how we're being reckless and how it's a terrible idea. But she's excited too."

"You think so?"

"I know so. The way she looks at you." Rei pauses, searching for the right way to say it. "She found somebody who can actually keep up with her. Someone she can't bulldoze. She's been running over every guy she's ever been with, and she's bored of it. You pushed back. You didn't fold." She smiles. "She'll never tell you this, by the way. If you mention I said any of it, I'll deny everything."

Footsteps in the hallway. Yujin rounds the corner and walks back into the bedroom, and between her legs, strapped snug against her hips with black leather harnesses, is a silicone cock. It's not comically large but it's not modest either, a smooth, dark-colored shaft that bobs slightly with each confident step she takes.

Rei pushes herself up on her elbows. Her eyes go wide. "Oh. Holy shit."

Yujin stands at the foot of the bed, hands on her hips, looking like a general surveying a battlefield. "Time for the fatality." She slaps the strap-on once, letting it bounce. "Today is a day you are never going to forget, little bird."

"It's already extremely memorable, Yujin. I've already had two orgasms."

"This is just to make absolutely sure." Yujin climbs onto the bed, the strap-on jutting forward, and kneels behind where Rei is lying. "You need to cum with two dicks in your holes. Full completion. Hundred percent achievement unlocked."

Rei sits up, her expression oscillating between terror and excitement with a healthy dose of horny delirium mixed in. "You're going to kill me."

"You're going to die happy. And when it's all over, you can have an ice-cold Coke. Straight from the fridge. That's your reward."

Rei looks at Yujin. Then at you. Then at the strap-on. Then at your cock. She chews her lower lip, and something sparks behind those big brown eyes, something calculating and mischievous that looks remarkably like a trait she picked up from Yujin. "Fine," she says. "I'll do it."

Yujin nods, satisfied. "Good girl."

"But." Rei holds up one finger. "Only if we spend the night here."

"You've lost your mind," Yujin says flatly.

"We stay here tonight. Both of us. We leave tomorrow morning." Rei crosses her arms over her bare chest, and despite the fact that she's naked and covered in sweat and her makeup looks like a Rorschach test, she projects a surprising amount of authority. "Those are my terms."

"That's insane. We need to go back. We have schedules. We have obligations. Wonyoung's expecting a debrief."

"Wonyoung can wait until tomorrow. The debrief isn't going anywhere."

"I can make dinner for everyone," you offer. "I'm a good cook."

Yujin's head swivels toward you. "Of course you're loving this idea."

"I make a really good pasta. From scratch."

"Nobody asked about your fucking pasta!" Yujin exclaims.

Rei tilts her head at Yujin. "You want to stay. I can see it on your face."

"You can't see anything on my face."

"Your left eye twitches when you want to say yes but your pride won't let you. It's twitching right now."

Yujin slaps a hand over her left eye. Holds it there for a second. Drops it. Takes a breath that contains the weight of every professional boundary she's crossed today, which is all of them.

"Okay! Fuck it!" She throws both hands up. "The plan's already gone to hell. Everything's gone completely off the rails. We've violated about thirty company policies. Who cares anymore." She points at Rei. "Fine. We sleep here tonight. But I am going to make you regret this idea later. That's a promise." Rei beams. "Wipe that grin off your face and get on top of him."

Rei climbs over you and settles on your hips, straddling you. She looks back over her shoulder at Yujin, who's kneeling behind her, adjusting the straps on the harness. That victorious, shit-eating smile is still spread across Rei's face like she just won the lottery and the Nobel Prize on the same day.

Yujin meets her eyes and smiles back. It's not a warm smile. "I'm going to fuck that grin right off your face tonight, little bird. Enjoy it while it lasts."

You reach down and take your cock in hand, lining the head up with Rei's pussy. She's still soaked, swollen and sensitive, and when the tip presses against her entrance she shudders visibly, her thighs clenching around your hips. Behind her, Yujin squeezes a fresh line of lube along the strap-on and presses it against Rei's ass, the tip nudging her already stretched, tender hole.

"Ready?" Yujin asks, one hand on Rei's hip, the other guiding the silicone cock. Rei nods. Her hands are flat on your chest, her fingers spread, steadying herself. She takes a breath.

You push up. Yujin pushes forward. Simultaneously. Rei's mouth falls open but nothing comes out. Her eyes roll back, the brown disappearing behind her lids, and her entire body goes taut, every muscle locking as both holes are filled at once. Your cock sinks into her pussy, hot and tight and clenching, and you can feel the strap-on through the thin wall separating her holes, the hard ridge of silicone pressing against your shaft through her body. The fullness must be staggering. Rei's fingers curl against your chest, her nails biting into your skin, and a thin, reedy whine escapes her throat.

Yujin pushes deeper, slow and steady, one hand on the small of Rei's back. "Breathe, little bird. Open up for us."

You sink in further. So does Yujin. Inch by inch, together, filling Rei from both sides until your hips are flush against her ass and Yujin's thighs are pressed against the back of hers. Both of you completely inside her. The tightness is absurd, her pussy squeezed even tighter by the presence of the strap-on in her ass, gripping your cock with a pressure that makes your stomach clench.

Rei is frozen above you. Trembling. Her eyes are still rolled back and her mouth is open in a silent oval. She's not breathing. You put a hand on her cheek and she blinks, focuses, sucks in a ragged gasp of air like she just surfaced from underwater. "There you go," you murmur. "Breathe. We've got you."

Yujin leans forward, pressing her chest against Rei's back, and wraps an arm around her waist. "You're doing so well. Just relax. We'll go slow."

The three of you hold there, connected, waiting. Rei's breathing gradually steadies. The trembling doesn't stop but it changes, shifting from shock to anticipation. Her pussy clenches around you in slow pulses, testing, adjusting, getting used to the impossible fullness of being stuffed in both holes at once.

"Okay." Her hips shift, just barely, a tiny experimental rock that makes all three of you feel it. "You can start. Just... go slow." She exhales shakily. "I really hope I survive this."

You start to move first. A slow, shallow thrust upward into Rei's pussy, feeling the tight, slick grip of her around your cock, made even tighter by the strap-on filling her from behind. A second later, Yujin follows, pulling her hips back and pushing the silicone cock forward into Rei's ass with a careful, exploratory rhythm that's clearly out of practice.

"It's been a minute since I've done this," Yujin admits, adjusting her grip on Rei's hips, finding her angle. "I'm relearning the choreography. Bear with me."

Rei is between you, suspended, her chest against yours, her face buried in the crook of your neck. Every movement from either direction makes her entire body shudder. Her fingers are digging into your shoulders so hard you're going to have bruises tomorrow, and the sounds coming out of her are small and constant, tiny whimpers that pulse with every thrust.

"It's really intense," Rei manages, her lips moving against your collarbone. "Both of you at the same time. I can feel everything. Every inch of both of you. It's so much."

"Having second thoughts?" you ask, running a hand down her spine.

"No. Just... recalibrating." She shivers as Yujin pushes deeper. "It looks so much easier in porn. Those girls are just bouncing around like it's nothing. They lied to me."

"Welcome to the harsh reality of having two cocks in your holes," Yujin says, settling into a slow, steady rhythm. "Porn is propaganda, little bird. This is the real thing."

You and Yujin find each other's rhythm. It takes a few strokes, a couple of adjustments, a silent negotiation between your bodies that happens through Rei, but after a minute you're moving in sync. When you thrust up, Yujin pulls back. When you pull out, she pushes in. Rei is never empty, always full of one of you, and the alternating pressure is making her lose her grip on reality one thrust at a time.

You cup the back of her head and tilt her face toward yours. Her eyes are glassy, unfocused, her lips wet and parted. You kiss her. Your tongue slides against hers and she moans into your mouth, the vibration traveling through your chest. She kisses you back with a sloppy, desperate hunger, her teeth catching your lower lip, her tongue chasing yours, and when you pull away she tries to follow, whining softly when the distance opens between you.

"You're doing so well," you tell her, brushing your thumb across her cheekbone. "You feel incredible. Both holes squeezing me. I've never felt anything like this."

Rei's cheeks flush even deeper, which shouldn't be possible given how red she already is. "Really?"

"Really. You're unbelievable."

Behind Rei, Yujin leans to the side, admiring the view. She reaches down with both hands and spreads Rei's cheeks apart, watching the strap-on slide in and out of her stretched, lubed hole. The sight makes her bite her lower lip and push in harder on the next stroke.

"The little bird was truly born to take it in the ass," Yujin says with the conviction of someone stating scientific fact. "Look at this. It's art. Someone should put this in a museum."

Rei whimpers into your chest. "That's not a museum-appropriate activity."

"Everything is museum-appropriate if the curator is brave enough." Yujin gives Rei's spread ass a long, appreciative look, then lifts her gaze to yours. That mischievous spark is back in her eyes, brighter than before. "So. What do you think of your first threesome?"

You thrust up into Rei and feel her clench around you. "I'm having a great time. Really enjoying the company."

Yujin snorts. She actually giggles, a sound you didn't think she was capable of producing. "I genuinely can't tell if you're describing a threesome or a picnic in the park."

“I love picnics,” Rei mumbles into your shoulder.

Yujin lets out an incredulous breath. “Nobody asked you anything, Rei."

“Sorry,” Rei says quickly, shifting slightly, almost sheepish. “I just… really like picnics. With sandwiches.”

Yujin actually pauses, then exhales a short, disbelieving laugh. “I’m literally inside your ass right now,” she says flatly, “and you’re talking about sandwiches. My fake dick almost went limp.”

Rei winces faintly at that, her fingers tightening where they rest. “Sorry,” she murmurs again. “didn’t mean to kill the vibe.”

Yujin's face softens. She runs her palm up Rei's back, gentle, grounding. "I'm just teasing, babe." Then her hand comes down on Rei's ass with a sharp crack that makes Rei's whole body jolt. "Now moan for mommy, okay?"

Rei obeys. A long, unfiltered moan that starts in her belly and spills out hot and broken against your skin. Her pussy clenches hard around your cock, and you feel the pressure of the strap-on through the thin wall between her holes, the silicone pressing against your shaft from the other side. "Good girl," Yujin purrs. "Louder."

You pick up the pace from below. Your hips drive up with more force, more speed, and Yujin matches you, the two of you falling into a faster rhythm that has Rei gasping and writhing between your bodies.

She's pinned. There's nowhere to go, nothing to do but take it, and the realization seems to hit her all at once because her body goes slack against your chest and she just surrenders. Completely. Every muscle releases and she becomes soft and pliant and open, her hips rocking between you in small, involuntary movements, her moans coming on every exhale.

"There she goes," Yujin murmurs. "She stopped fighting it. Now she's just taking it."

"That's it, Rei." You grab her ass with both hands, spreading her, giving Yujin a better angle. "Just feel it. Let us take care of you."

"Both of you," Rei pants, and her hips grind down onto your cock with a needy, circular motion. "Both of you feel so good. I'm so full. I've never been this full in my life."

You thrust harder. Yujin matches you. The rhythm is faster now, the bed rocking beneath the three of you, the headboard tapping the wall in a steady beat. Rei is sandwiched between your bodies, skin against skin, sweat mingling, and every thrust from either direction makes her cry out. The sounds she's producing are raw and uncontrolled, a continuous stream of moans and gasps and fragments of words that don't connect into sentences.

"Come on, little bird," Yujin says, snapping her hips forward, driving the strap-on deep. "Take it. Take both of us. You wanted this. You asked for this."

"I love it." Rei's nails score lines down your chest. "I love both of you inside me. Please don't stop. Daddy, please don't stop. Mommy, please."

You grab Rei's face in one hand and make her look at you. Her eyes are barely tracking, rolling and glassy, her pupils blown so wide the brown is nearly gone. There's drool on her chin again, her mascara is a lost cause and she is the most beautiful wreck you've ever seen in your life.

"Who makes you feel this good?" you ask, thrusting up hard enough to make her whole body bounce.

"You do, daddy." She can barely get the words out between moans. "You and Yujin. Nobody else. Nobody has ever made me feel like this."

"That's right,” Yujin says. “And nobody else is going to."

Yujin increases her pace. She's gripping Rei's hips hard enough to leave finger-shaped bruises, her own breathing getting heavier, her thighs slapping against Rei's ass with every forward snap. She leans over Rei's back, pressing close, her mouth near Rei's ear. "You're taking it so well, babe. Both holes stuffed full and you're still begging for more. You're our perfect little slut."

"I am," Rei sobs. "I'm your slut. Both of yours."

The three of you are moving together now, a single organism of tangled limbs and sweat and noise. You and Yujin have locked into a brutal, alternating rhythm, never letting Rei rest, never giving her a moment without one of you buried deep inside her. Your cock drives up into her pussy, thick and hard and relentless, while the strap-on fills her ass from behind, and Rei is caught in between, overwhelmed, overloaded, every nerve in her body firing at maximum capacity.

You feel her start to tighten. Not just her pussy, her whole body. Every muscle drawing taut, her thighs clamping against your sides, her fingers digging into your shoulders, her teeth sinking into the meat of your chest hard enough to sting. The moans are getting higher, tighter, more desperate.

"She's close," you tell Yujin.

"I know. I can feel her shaking." Yujin pounds harder, the strap-on driving deep. "Come on, Rei. Finish. Give us everything."

"I'm gonna cum." Rei's entire body is vibrating against yours, a fine, uncontrollable tremor that runs through her like an electrical current. "I can't hold it. Both of you are too much. It's too good. I'm gonna cum with both of you inside me."

"Then cum, babe," you tell her, grabbing her hips and driving up into her so hard she bounces off your pelvis. "Cum for us."

Yujin slams forward at the same time you do, and for one brutal, perfect second, Rei is completely filled from both sides at once. Maximum depth. Both holes stretched and stuffed and speared on cock.

Rei detonates. The orgasm is violent. Her body seizes above you, rigid as steel, and the scream that comes out of her is inhuman, a raw, tearing sound that doesn't stop, that just keeps pouring out of her throat as her body convulses. Her pussy crushes your cock in rhythmic, crushing contractions, so tight it's almost painful, and you can feel the strap-on jerking on the other side of that thin wall as her ass clenches just as hard.

She's shaking so violently that Yujin has to grab her waist to keep her from bucking off both of you, and wet heat floods around your cock as she cums so hard her body can't contain it, her juices spilling out around your shaft and running down your balls.

"Holy fuck," Yujin breathes, holding Rei steady, still buried inside her. "Holy fuck, she's still going."

Rei's orgasm keeps rolling, wave after wave, her body clenching and releasing in violent spasms that you feel through every inch of your cock. Tears are streaming down her face, mixing with the drool and the smeared mascara, and she's making sounds that have stopped resembling anything human, just raw, primal noise, her body expressing what her brain no longer can.

You and Yujin slow down together. Easing off. Letting the aftershocks ripple through her without adding to the overload. Yujin pulls out first, slow and careful, and Rei whimpers at the withdrawal, her body twitching. Then you ease your hips down, letting her feel you soften your rhythm to a gentle rocking, just enough contact to keep her grounded while the tremors gradually subside.

Rei collapses onto your chest. Completely boneless. Dead weight. She's breathing in ragged, hitching gasps, her whole body still twitching with aftershocks, and she doesn't move. Doesn't speak. Just lies there, draped across you, her face pressed against your neck, her heartbeat hammering so hard you can feel it against your own ribs.

Yujin unstraps the harness and tosses it off the bed. It lands somewhere on the floor with a thud. She lies down beside you both, propping herself on one elbow, and looks at Rei with something that transcends amusement and enters the territory of reverence.

"Rei. You alive?"

A long silence. Then, muffled against your neck: "I'm going to need a wheelchair from now on." Yujin laughs. "My legs don't work," Rei continues, her face still hidden. "My brain doesn't work. Nothing works. I'm broken. Both of you broke me."

"You're welcome,” Yujin says proudly.

Rei slowly, painfully, rolls off your chest and lands on her back beside you. She lies there spread-eagled on the destroyed bed, staring at the ceiling, chest heaving, body glistening. Every few seconds a residual shudder passes through her and she twitches, her thighs squeezing together involuntarily.

"Tell my Switch 2 I loved it a lot," she mumbles. "We had some amazing moments. Sadly, I won’t be finishing Pokopia..."

Yujin is grinning at Rei when you feel a hand on your jaw. She turns your face toward hers and kisses you. It's unexpected, and that's what makes it hit different. Her lips are soft against yours, warm and unhurried, and she kisses you like she's taking something for herself rather than proving a point. When she pulls back, her eyes are clear and steady. "Good job."

"You did pretty well yourself. Tag team of the century."

She grins, but it fades into something else. She leans close, her lips brushing the shell of your ear, her hand resting on your chest. Her breath is warm and her whisper is low enough that Rei can't hear it. "Can you make me cum again?" She traces a small circle on your chest with her fingertip. "I'm kind of obsessed with your cock. It's becoming a problem."

You turn your head and catch her eye. No guarded expression this time, just a lingering heat, a flicker of want, and something raw she isn’t covering up. "Of course I can,” you say.

Yujin grins again, grabs your hand and pulls you off the bed. Your feet hit the hardwood floor and she positions herself in front of you, standing at the edge of the mattress, her back to your chest. The late afternoon light is cutting through the floor-to-ceiling windows and painting gold stripes across her skin, across the lean lines of her shoulders and the sharp curve of her waist.

On the bed, Rei rolls onto her stomach and props her chin on her fists, settling in. Her legs kick up behind her, crossed at the ankles. "Go ahead. I'll just watch and enjoy the show."

Yujin glances back over her shoulder at Rei. "Didn't know you were into voyeurism."

"After today? Voyeurism is all I've got left." Rei shifts and hugs a pillow to her chest. "Everything else has been thoroughly explored. I'm retiring from active duty. Observer status only."

You put both hands on Yujin's waist. She's warm under your palms, her skin damp and smooth, and you can feel her pulse ticking fast beneath the surface. You pull her hips back against you, your cock settling between her thighs, sliding through the slick heat gathered there. She inhales sharply but doesn't move, letting you take the lead. You angle yourself and press the head of your cock against her entrance. She's wet. Embarrassingly wet, from everything she's watched and done and felt over the last however many hours this has been.

You push inside her. Slow. Steady. And Yujin exhales like she's been holding her breath since the last time you were in her, a long, shuddering sigh that drops her shoulders and tips her head forward. "I missed this," she murmurs. "It's been like thirty minutes and I missed this. That's pathetic."

You slide your hands up from her waist. Over the flat plane of her stomach, up her ribs, until your palms cover her breasts. They're full, firm and her nipples are stiff against your palms, and when you squeeze, gentle but possessive, she pushes back against you and takes you another inch deeper.

Your lips find the side of her neck. You kiss the spot just below her ear, then lower, along the tendon, tasting salt and perfume, and she tilts her head to give you more room. You mouth your way down to her shoulder, teeth grazing skin, and feel the goosebumps rise under your lips.

"You have the most incredible body," you tell her, squeezing her breasts again, rolling her nipples between your fingers. You thrust into her, slow and deep, and feel her clench around you. "Every single part of you. Your stomach. Your hips. These legs." You press deeper and she gasps. "You're so fucking hot it's hard to concentrate."

Yujin laughs, breathy and unsteady, her composure fraying at the edges. "You're so obsessed with me. It's borderline clinical."

"It's the truth. Why would I lie about it?" You pull back and push in again, a long stroke that fills her completely, and her laugh cuts off into a moan. "I've been with one woman for over a year and she never once made me feel anything close to what I feel when I'm inside you."

"Stop being smooth while you're fucking me. It's not fair. I can't think of comebacks."

"Then don't think." You start thrusting deeper. Not faster, just deeper, each stroke reaching further, grinding at the peak before pulling back. Yujin's head falls back against your shoulder, her hair spilling over your skin, and she stares at the ceiling with her lips parted and her eyes half-shut.

From this angle you can see everything. The way her throat works when she swallows a moan. The way her stomach clenches with every thrust. The way her hands hang at her sides because she doesn't know what to do with them, because she's given up trying to control the situation and she's just letting you have her.

"Damn… you’re fucking me so good," she says, voice low, stripped of anything but pure feeling. "You're hitting something in there that I didn't even know existed. How are you doing that?"

"Trade secret."

"Asshole."

"You two look really good together," Rei says, and her tone has a roughness to it that wasn't there a minute ago. "Like, unreasonably good. The height difference. The way she leans into you. The way your hands look on her body." She shifts again. "Maybe I'm more into this voyeurism thing than I thought."

Yujin moans, long and open, as you thrust particularly deep. "Enjoying the view, little bird?"

"Very much."

You keep fucking Yujin. Slow, measured strokes from behind, your hands exploring her body with a thoroughness that's making her squirm. Every time you squeeze her hip, she clenches around you. Every time you kiss her neck, she tilts into it. Every time you murmur something against her skin, her breathing gets shorter.

There's no pretense anymore. No competition, no performance, no score-keeping. She's just here, with you, feeling everything, and for the first time today she's letting herself have it without a fight.

"Wrap your arm around me," she says, quiet, tentative even. You slide your arm around her waist and pull her flush against your chest, and she makes a small, satisfied sound and reaches back to grip the back of your neck, holding you close. The position is intimate in a way that nothing else today has been. Your chest against her back, your arm around her, your cock buried deep inside her, the two of you moving together in the golden afternoon light.

After several minutes, the mattress creaks. Rei has gotten tired of watching. She pushes herself up, swings her legs off the bed, and stands in front of Yujin on unsteady legs. She's still flushed, still wrecked, still marked with the aftermath of everything that's happened to her body today, but there's a renewed energy in her eyes.

She steps close and cups Yujin's face in both hands. Yujin looks at her, surprised, and Rei kisses her, their lips meeting softly, tongues touching, Rei's thumbs stroking Yujin's cheekbones. When they part, Yujin's eyes are glassy. "Looks like the little bird got her strength back."

Rei smiles. "Watching you get fucked is like spinach. Instant recovery."

"Don’t ever let those words come out of your mouth around me again."

"Stop being so grumpy,” Rey says, then her mouth travels down. She kisses Yujin's jaw, her throat, the hollow of her collarbone. Her lips close around Yujin's left nipple and she sucks softly, her tongue flicking across the stiff peak. Yujin hisses through her teeth and her hand comes up to cradle the back of Rei's head, fingers threading through dark hair. You keep fucking Yujin from behind, your pace steady, and between the two of you she's starting to shake.

Rei kisses lower. Down Yujin's sternum, across her stomach, her lips tracing the faint lines of definition there. She drops to her knees between Yujin's thighs, looking up at both of you, and the angle gives her a perfect view of your cock sliding in and out of Yujin's pussy. "Let me help," Rei says, licking her lips.

You lift Yujin's left leg and place it on the edge of the mattress, opening her up. The new angle drives you deeper and Yujin gasps, grabbing your arm for balance. Her pussy is spread wide now, everything exposed, and Rei leans in and presses her tongue flat against Yujin's clit.

"Fuck—" Yujin breathes. "Oh, fuck."

Rei licks her in slow, broad strokes, her tongue running from where your cock enters Yujin all the way up to her clit and back down again. She's licking both of you, tasting Yujin's wetness and the slick coating your shaft, her tongue sliding along the underside of your cock every time you pull back. The sensation is staggering, Rei's hot, wet tongue dragging along your cock while Yujin's pussy grips you from every angle, and you have to lock your jaw to keep your composure.

"This is too fucking good," Yujin gasps, her head falling back against your shoulder again. "Both of you. Her tongue and your cock. It's too much. I can't handle this."

"You can handle it," you tell her, thrusting harder. "You're handling it right now."

"I'm barely surviving."

Rei focuses her attention on Yujin's clit, sucking it between her lips, flicking it with the tip of her tongue in quick, precise strokes. Her hands grip Yujin's thighs, holding her open, and every few seconds she dips down to drag her tongue along the stretched rim of Yujin's pussy where your cock is splitting her apart. The wet sounds are filthy and constant, Rei's mouth and your cock working together in a symphony of slick, obscene noise.

You increase your pace. Harder, faster, your hips driving into Yujin with a force that makes her whole body rock forward with each thrust. Rei adjusts, staying close, her tongue never leaving Yujin's clit. You grab Yujin's hip with one hand and her breast with the other, pulling her back onto your cock as you slam forward.

"I'm not going to last," Yujin pants. Her fingers are tangled in Rei's hair, pulling her closer, grinding her pussy against Rei's face. "Both of you at once is cheating. This is fucking cheating."

"Complain about it later," Rei says against her clit, the words buzzing against sensitive flesh, and Yujin's legs buckle for a second.

"Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god." Yujin's hand shoots back and grabs the back of your neck, nails biting into your skin. Her body is tensing up, that familiar full-body clench, every muscle drawing tight. "I'm close. I'm really close. Don't stop. Neither of you stop. Please, daddy, don't stop—"

You pound into her, relentless, your cock driving deep on every stroke. Rei sucks her clit hard, her cheeks hollowing, her eyes squeezed shut in concentration. Yujin is caught between the two of you, shaking, gasping, her body coiling tighter and tighter. "Cum for us," you growl against her ear. "Let go, babe."

Yujin cums. Her whole body seizes, her spine arching away from your chest, her mouth opening in a silent scream that hangs in the air for one eternal second before the sound catches up. A raw, shattered moan rips out of her, and then the flood. She squirts hard, a forceful spray that catches Rei directly in the face.

Rei flinches back, eyes flying open, sputtering. Her face is drenched. Her hair is drenched. She's blinking rapidly, mouth open in shock, Yujin's release dripping off her chin and running down her neck.

Yujin sees Rei's face through the haze of her orgasm and starts laughing. A breathless, broken laugh that mixes with her moans, her body still convulsing around your cock. "Oh my god. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, little bird. But your face right now..."

Another jet pulses out of her, arcing through the air and hitting Rei square in the chest, splashing across her breasts and running down her stomach. Rei looks down at herself, then up at Yujin, her expression caught between outrage and disbelief. "Yujin!"

"I can't control it!" Yujin is laughing so hard she can barely stand, her legs wobbling, her body still twitching through the tail end of her orgasm. "It just happens!"

You ease your pace, slowing to a gentle rocking, letting her ride the last waves. When you finally pull out, Yujin shudders one last time and exhales a breath that seems to empty her completely. She leans against you for a moment, catching her balance, then looks at Rei, who is kneeling on the floor absolutely soaked from the chest up.

Yujin's mouth twitches. "Okay. Since little bird got a surprise facial..." She pushes herself off you and lowers to her knees beside Rei, both of them on the floor in front of you. Yujin wipes a streak of wetness off Rei's cheek with her thumb and grins. "Let's finish the job properly."

Yujin's fingers wrap around the base of your cock. Rei's hand joins hers, overlapping, both of them stroking you in tandem. Their faces are inches from the head, looking up at you, and the visual alone almost does you in. "Look at these balls," Yujin says, her free hand cupping them, weighing them, rolling them in her palm. "So fucking full. You've been holding it in this whole time while you made both of us cum how many times? You're gonna explode. There's gonna be so much."

Rei runs her tongue along the underside of your shaft while Yujin strokes, a long, slow lick from base to tip that makes your thighs tense. "He deserves it. He's been so patient."

"Patient isn't the word. This man has the self-control of a monk." Yujin leans forward and takes the head into her mouth, sucking hard, her cheeks hollowing, tasting herself on you. She pulls off with a wet sound. "I can still taste my pussy on your dick. That's so hot."

Rei takes over, swallowing you deep, her throat opening around your shaft with that natural ease that made Yujin's jaw drop earlier. She holds there, her nose pressed against your pelvis, then pulls back slowly, a thick string of saliva connecting her lip to your cock. "You taste like both of us now."

They alternate. Rei goes deep while Yujin works the shaft. Then Yujin takes you in her mouth, sloppy and aggressive, while Rei dips lower and sucks your balls, taking one into her mouth, rolling it gently with her tongue. The combined sensation of two mouths, two tongues, four hands, all of it focused on your cock with a coordinated intensity that borders on worship, is pushing you toward the edge faster than anything has all afternoon.

"You two are so fucking good together," you manage, your hand finding the back of Yujin's head, your other hand tangled in Rei's hair. "The best mouths I've ever had. Nothing even comes close."

Yujin pulls off long enough to grin up at you. "Tell us more."

"Fishing for compliments with my dick in your mouth. Classy."

"Always." She runs her tongue in a circle around the head. "Now tell us how bad you want to cum."

"Pretty fucking bad."

Rei releases your balls and licks her way back up, joining Yujin at the tip. Both their tongues meet at the head, lapping at the sensitive ridge, their lips brushing against each other and against you in a wet, messy tangle that makes your abs clench hard enough to ache.

"Then cum for us, daddy," Rei says, looking up at you with those wide brown eyes that have no right to look that innocent given what her mouth is doing. "Please. We want it."

"We need it," Yujin adds, stroking you faster. "Cum on our faces. Give us what Wonyoung would never let you have." She spits on your cock and twists her fist on the upstroke, her grip tightening. "That prissy bitch would never let you cum on her perfect little princess face. Too messy. Too dirty. Too beneath her."

"But we're not her," Rei breathes, her tongue flicking across your slit. "We actually want it. We're begging for it."

"We're so much better than her." Yujin's pace increases, her fist pumping your slick cock fast and relentless. "We let you fuck our pussies raw. We let you fuck Rei's tight little ass. We let you do anything you want with us. Wonyoung could never."

"She could never," Rei echoes, sucking the tip between her lips briefly. "She doesn't deserve this cock. We do."

"So give it to us." Yujin's hand is a blur now, her wrist snapping on every stroke, your cock drooling precum that she smears across the head with her thumb. "Cum all over us. Paint our faces. We want to wear it."

Your grip tightens in both their hair. Your thighs are shaking. Your balls are drawn up tight and the pressure is building, building, a coiling heat in your lower stomach that's about to snap. Both of them are focused on the tip now, their tongues overlapping, licking, their lips kissing the head of your cock from either side.

"Cum, daddy," Rei whispers.

"Fucking cum," Yujin demands.

You break. The first rope hits Yujin across the bridge of her nose and her right cheek, thick and white and hot. She doesn't flinch. Doesn't close her eyes. Just keeps stroking, her fist pumping your cock through the orgasm, milking every drop. "More," she says. "Give us more. Don't stop."

The second shot catches Rei across her forehead and her left eye, which she squeezes shut just in time. It drips down her brow and along her cheekbone. The third hits them both, streaking across Yujin's lips and Rei's chin. You're cumming harder than you've ever cum in your life, weeks and months of pent-up frustration and loneliness and faithfulness to a woman who couldn't be bothered to break up with you in person, all of it pouring out of you in thick, pulsing ropes that keep coming and coming.

Yujin's hand doesn't stop. She keeps stroking, fast and tight, pulling every last drop from you while your cock throbs and kicks in her grip. "That's it. Keep cumming. Fuck, there's so much. Look at all of it, Rei."

Rei is a mess. Her face is glazed with it, white streaks across her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, dripping off her chin onto her chest. She opens her good eye and looks up at you with that stupid, blissed-out grin. Your cock pulses one more time, a final weak spurt that lands on Yujin's collarbone, and then you're done. Empty. Completely and thoroughly spent.

Yujin smiles up at you. Her face is covered. It's in her eyelashes, across the bridge of her nose, on her upper lip. She looks like a glazed donut and she couldn't look more satisfied about it. "Amazing… And to think I'm getting paid for this."

Rei scoops a thick line of cum off her cheek with two fingers and slides them into her mouth, sucking them clean. She considers the taste for a moment, like a sommelier evaluating a vintage, and nods approvingly. Yujin runs her tongue across her upper lip, collecting what's gathered there, and swallows.

You sit down on the edge of the mattress. Your legs feel like they've been deboned. You lean back on your hands and let out a breath that comes from somewhere deep in your chest, somewhere that's been clenched tight for months. "That was fucking awesome."

"The best part," Rei says, still kneeling on the floor, still dripping, "is that we're sleeping here tonight. So we can do it again later."

Yujin groans from the floor. "Do we really need him? What if he's a serial killer? We don't know this man."

Rei looks at her flatly. "I just let the serial killer cum on my face, Yujin."

Yujin purses her lips. Opens her mouth. Closes it. "You have a point."

You lean forward and offer both of them a hand up. "How about a bath? I've got a tub big enough for three."

"You made the mess," Yujin says, taking your hand and pulling herself to her feet. "You clean it up." She touches her hair and her fingers come away sticky. "There's cum in my hair. This is a two-hundred-dollar blowout."

"I'll wash it for you."

"Damn right you will."

—

A few hours later, the penthouse feels calmer. Golden daylight has slipped into a cool evening blue, and the city beyond the windows begins to glow.

Yujin is in your kitchen. She's wearing your shirt, a white oxford that hangs to the top of her thighs, the hem just barely covering the curve of her ass, which peeks out whenever she reaches for anything above counter height. Her legs are bare, her hair is damp from the bath and starting to curl at the ends, and she's got your wireless headphones clamped over her ears.

She's singing, her hips swaying as she opens the freezer and pulls out a tub of ice cream. Her bare feet pad across the kitchen tile and she grabs a spoon from the drawer, scooping out a bite and eating it while she sings between mouthfuls.

"Hey, Miss Sun, what can I say?" She twirls the spoon between her fingers, bobbing her head. "I tried to hold you, but the moon got in the way..." She does a little spin, sliding on the tile in her bare feet, and catches herself on the counter. "It won't be long before the morning has you back in my arms—"

The music cuts out. Her phone buzzes on the counter, the screen lighting up. She glances at it and the spoon freezes halfway to her mouth.

Jang Wonyoung

Yujin sets down the ice cream. Pulls off the headphones. Takes a breath. Answers. "Hey, boss."

Wonyoung's tone comes through tinny and sharp, even from across the room. Yujin leans against the counter and examines her nails while she listens.

"Where are you two? You've been off the grid all day. I tried calling Rei three times."

"Yeah, sorry about that. Rei hurt her ankle. Fell down some stairs on the way out of his building." Yujin picks at a cuticle. "That girl doesn't look where she's going. I keep telling her. She just spaces out and trips over everything."

"Is she okay?"

"She's fine. It's just a mild sprain. I took her back to her apartment to keep an eye on her. We'll probably be in tomorrow."

A pause on the other end. "How did it go? Everything run smoothly?"

"Smooth as silk. Textbook operation. Contract signed, obligations fulfilled. All wrapped up."

"Did he cry?"

A flicker of tension pulls at Yujin’s jaw before she smooths it over. “No,” she says, light as ever.

"Seriously?" Wonyoung sounds genuinely annoyed. "He should have cried. I expected at least some tears. I would have cried."

"I think he wanted to. He was definitely holding it back. Didn't want to cry in front of two girls, you know? Fragile masculinity. Big ego, small emotional range. The usual."

"Men..." Wonyoung sighs with the weariness of someone who has never once been inconvenienced by her own behavior. "How was the sex?"

"Everything went according to plan. He was satisfied by the end. No complaints. No resentment. Mission accomplished."

"Perfect. Great work, Yujin. Now we just have to wait about six months." Wonyoung's tone shifts into something brighter, more animated, the sound of someone admiring their own strategy. "The breakup's going to generate tons of attention. Everyone loves a fallen romance. Sympathetic press for me, speculation, mystery. And then in six months, we get back together. Reconciliation arc. The public eats that up. Engagement numbers will be through the roof."

Yujin stares at the far wall. "Sounds like you've got it all figured out."

"I always do. Just keep the documents safe. I want everything on my desk tomorrow."

"Of course. You can count on me, boss."

"I know I can. Goodnight, Yujin."

"Goodnight."

The call ends. The screen goes dark. Yujin stands there for a moment, phone in hand, staring at nothing. Then she puts the headphones back on. The music starts again, Miss Sun picking up where it left off. She grabs the ice cream tub and turns toward the hallway. On her way past the kitchen trash can, she glances down.

Inside, sitting on top of crumpled paper towels, is a small pile of ashes. Gray and black and still faintly warm. The edges of a few charred paper fragments are still visible, corners of thick, expensive legal stock, the kind used for contracts that were meant to be kept in briefcases and filed in offices and presented to bosses who think they run the world.

Yujin takes a bite of ice cream and looks at the ashes for a long, satisfied moment.

“That bitch has no idea what’s coming,” she murmurs around the spoon.

Yujin turns off the kitchen light and pads down the hallway to your bedroom, carrying the ice cream with her, humming softly.

[breakroomdenouement]

Laid Bare

IVE Rei x m!reader || ~13.4k words

Alright. It’s time to patrol the floor.

You press a finger to your ear, take a deep breath, and push into the side door—into the nightclub proper.

There’s a half-second where you go completely deaf before your hearing returns to you. The noise hits you all at once: the hissing spray of the fog machines overhead, the thumping of the bass that threatens the warranty of the surround-sound speakers, the cheers and jeers of the crowd, the rhythmless thumping of bouncing bodies. Everything is a shade of red-orange. You have to hold up a hand to your face to stop one of the strobe lights from blinding you. As you take your first few steps into the scene this evening, you smoothen out the creases of your blazer and nod.

This is SAXO—the most prestigious nightclub on this side of Seoul. Belonging to a collection of different spots all under The Kingdom Collective, hundreds—if not thousands—of warm bodies find their ways at SAXO’s doorstep to drink, spend, and party to forget their pitiful lives for even just a few hours.

But not you. Not you.

You take a deep breath. Really feel it in your chest. And when you exhale slowly, letting the drag of air on the way out tickle your nostrils, you lock in as time slows down to a blur all around you.

You scan the room.

Slashed purse at Table Fourteen. Half-filled beer bottle at the DJ’s mixing pad. Fingers thrusted at the bar area.

Index to thumb, you snap. Then it all comes back to life.

You strut over to Table Fourteen and grab the idiot with curly hair by the inside of his belt, preventing his escape. “Huh? What—?”

Smack. You backhand the son of a bitch and take the opportunity to grab the wallet he was just holding as he stumbles backwards onto the floor.

You sift through the I.D. cards and glance at the group of unaware ladies who are now looking at you in confusion. “This must be yours. Keep an eye on your things please. Our staff can only do so much.”

After the ponytailed woman nods at you in silent gratitude, you whistle and call over a triad of bouncers. They immediately swarm the perpetrator and have him pinned with his arms behind his back. “You know the drill. Put his photo up on the wall. Then give these ladies a bottle from the top shelf. On the house.”

The same lady from earlier gasps and shakes her head. “No no, it’s fine. Getting my wallet back’s more than enough.”

But you calm her down with a gesture of your hand and signal to one of the bouncers. “Hennessy. On me.”

When her drunken friends scream in elation over hearing this, the lady smiles and lifts her glass up to you. You salute with two fingers before trudging towards the dance floor.

Cutting through should be easy, but the ongoing rave makes the crowd feel like an actual ocean.

Shoulders bumping. Backs pressing into you. Whispers exchanging at decibels higher than they should be. You don’t part the crowd—you know better than to do that. Instead you run your hand through your hair and get with it. Get with them. You go with the flow. Head bopping. Arms in the air. Swaying and shimmying past person to person. All until you reach the elevated podium.

One of the bouncers stationed at the front sees you and snaps into a straighter posture, but when you lift both your hands at him he learns to relax a bit. “First night?”

He glances left and right to make sure you’re talking to him. “Y-Yeah … s-s-sorry, boss.”

“Relax. Take it easy. Just remember: make sure everyone’s having a good time. The safe way.”

“Y-You got it!” he wheezes, unclipping the velvet cord so you can pass through. You pat him on the back and squeeze his shoulder before jogging up the steps towards the sound booth.

Pressing fingers against your ear to fold it shut, you dip forward and jab your waist at the DJ. You give him no time to complain. This sudden motion makes the wire connecting his headphones to his laptop coil around his bottle of beer and would have sent it toppling onto the mixing pad had you not swiped it up in time.

“Jesus Christ—you fucking scared me. Can’t you see I’m in the middle of a set here?” Hajoon groaned, unraveling the wire. 

“I said no drinks while you’re on set. This is the third time this week.”

He flaps his lips in mockery, snatching the beer back from you. Downs it in one go. Sighs in contentment. Then shoves it back to your chest, dampening the fold of your blazer. “Whatever, bossman. Learn to loosen up a little. Here—ready for the drop?”

As soon as he pushes one of the doodads on his device, you hear the music start to quicken and pulsate throughout the room. You can feel the hastening thrum in the back of your throat. When you think you can’t take the tension anymore, Hajoon flicks his wrist and throws his hands in the air.

“Everybody make some noise!”

Then the drop happens and everyone’s cheering to the beat. Tongues out. Fists pumping. Bodies yielding.

Hajoon jabs you with his waist and wraps an arm around your neck. “You see that, bossman? That’s the kind of magic we fucking enable each night. So will you cut me some slack? If it helps, I’ll cut back on the drinks too. I only got to sneak one in because you sent a newbie to guard me tonight.”

You peel his sweaty arm off you and dust yourself off. “We’ll see. Maybe play some good music first, then I’ll think about it.” 

He hisses. “So fucking cold. But that makes me respect you all the more—not gonna lie.”

You ignore him and duck under the cord to rejoin the shifting masses. The new bouncer doesn’t even get a chance to say goodbye as you slither your way once more through the crowd to get to the other side of the room where the bar is.

“I fucking told you—we paid for our table in advance. What do you mean we need to show you ‘proof of purchase’? Fucking bitch. Your place is already expensive—.”

“Gentlemen, what seems to be the problem here.”

The gravitas you exude is enough to silence the four men trying to overpower and intimidate your bar staff.

“Is there anything we can do for you?” you repeat, making sure they hear you over the second beat drop Hajoon just laid out for the people. “You can relay it to me directly.”

One of the guys tugs on the sleeve of his complaining friend, but he swats him away. He’s the only one who still looks arrogant despite his face being as red as a raspberry. “Ya … who the fuck are you? Are you their manager? I’d like to speak with the fucking manager.”

“You’re talking to him.”

“O-Oh … oh, then good,” he flinches. “Like I was saying—your club’s trying to fucking scam me and my friends. Bleeding us dry, huh? We paid for the table reservation fee AND the three-hour extension for our table. And they say we can’t get more fucking drinks?”

You gesture to the poor girl just trying to do her job. She hands you one of her small tablets and you begin scrolling through records. “Says here you paid in full and still have some credit for your tab. What do you want to order?”

He scoffs. “Was thinking of getting me and my boys a bottle of Bombay Sapphire. Each. But you’re all ruining our fun, so maybe we’ll just—.”

“You can’t afford it.”

The man raises a brow. “Excuse me? The fuck did you just—.”

“I said. You can’t afford it,” you utter once more, diction sharp enough to penetrate through their thick skulls. “The table’s a million won. You already spent nine-hundred thousand on other liquors. Four bottles of this gin will cost you two-hundred-and-forty thousand more—over your cap.”

“I can—.”

You point to the lanyard one of his friends wears. Then to the knock-off Ray Bans on his other friend’s forehead. Then to the crumpled envelope in his right pocket. “Keep burning your stipend money and you’ll be out of college faster than I can kick you out of this club.”

His little group inhales so tensely through clenching teeth over what you just relayed to them that their little leader starts to physically fume in the well-deserved embarrassment. “Y-Yeah? Well fuck you, asshat. Let’s go, guys. We’re leaving—.”

You hold your arm out to stop his lanky body in time, grabbing some middle shelf liquor in the same stroke. “Here. Bit over your tab, but on me. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

You don’t get the privilege to see his dumfounded face. You salute the woman working the bar before heading towards the back wings.

This was you. This is your nightly life as the manager of SAXO. It’s never dull. Not with the constant flow of people like these it isn’t.

When you lean against the wall adjacent to the restrooms, one of the bouncers notices you and offers you a seat by one of the empty tables along the balcony area, but you reject it with a shake of your chin. Hard to patrol when seated. Hard to monitor without a vantage point. There’s never any rest for the wicked, so you don’t allow yourself any either. Instead, you fix the grip of your watch against your wrist and check the time.

Twelve-fifty-three.

Glancing back up, your hairs stand on edge.

You find yourself as if you were on the roof of the building. Atop SAXO. Where the humdrum of the club below can blur enough to the point that it can almost be considered silence. You take what you can get. In this spec of solitude amidst your night to night affairs for work, you enjoy being able to stare up at the evening sky and just gaze. Stargaze.

When you look at the stars, you never really focus on a single fixed point. There are many stars out there, constantly burning, some already having died out, some whose light have yet to reach your eyes. They all look the same to you. Same shining orbs. Same glow and halation. Same patch of freckles that dot the expanse of the universe. But once in a while, once you let your guard down—if you can even let it—you find yourself drawn to a star that calls to you. Grabs your attention. Not brighter. Not differently-colored. Not even more attractive.

It just pulls you in. And before you know it, it’s all you look at. It’s all your weary eyes focus on.

It’s all you see.

That’s the same thing she does to you.

Chests lift and drop. Shoulders form waves that veil her visage. Strobe lights paint everything around her in a light haze. She whips her head around, hair fanning out downwards. Dip of the chin. Rise of the nose. Lock of the eyes.

She isn’t just looking at you. She’s caught you.

And the pull of her lips into a smirk is enough evidence of it.

You know very well that meeting someone’s gaze at the club is a death sentence. You know their appearance now. How they act. What they do. Where they are. You can track them down around the dance floor. Pinpoint their table. Vibe check their company. Note how intoxicated they are. Check to see if they’re hitting on someone. Or if anyone’s hitting on them.

But when someone catches you staring? That isn’t just a death sentence.

It’s an execution. And she drops the guillotine on you the moment she bites her lip.

You look away. You just meant to look respectfully. You hope you did. You didn’t linger, did you? If you did, it was just out of appreciation. Admiration. She’s beautiful. That much you can glean from an initial glance. Not enough to mark her in your mind, but enough to make her relevant in your field of view.

You’re an idiot. You look again.

Honey blonde hair, dark at the roots. Freshly threaded brows. Slender nose—sharp at the tip, softer around the sides. Oval-framed visage that looks soft upon a caress but sharp upon provocation. Lower lip so plump you forget she has two to form the curve of her smirk.

But really. What catches you are her eyes. 

Because they’re staring right at you now.

You look away. For good this time. You’re certain because you push off the wall and walk a few steps away from your initial perching position. Not stopping until you’re sure that she isn’t looking at you anymore

You brush past a pair of heaving girls rushing to the toilets to vomit. 

Nope, still looking at you.

You lean over a group of college kids playing King’s Cup and ask them how their night is.

Nope, still looking at you.

You run a hand across the bar counter to inspect its cleanliness. 

Nope, still looking at you.

She won’t fucking stop looking at you. And you hate it.

Because you can’t stop looking at her either.

She shifts. Hands behind her head, hips swaying in a figure eight to the music. You’re still pissed at Hajoon, but you have to thank him for the boppy track he’s put on now. It makes her thrust her elbows out. Side to side. Doing a little spin. And when she comes back around, she smirks at you again.

It’s only then that you scan the rest of her. Filling out the form of her figure.

Buckled corset tight around her petite frame. Red pants dotted with silver buttons that you just know jingle with even the slightest movements. Nails painted silver. Armband dripped in gold. Boots that cheat her height and allow her to look taller men in the eye.

But really. What catches your attention this time isn’t in the seen. It’s in the unseen.

At the swell around her cleavage that’s threatening to spill out.

You look away. But you’re not sure you’ve done so because you can still see her in your peripheral. Like what happens when you stare at the sun for too long like a dumbass and it imprints its afterimage so fucking deep into your retinas.

You move over to the receiving area where there’s still a line steadily being processed by your diligent staff. A pair of bouncers recognize you and one of them dips their shades to greet you. You hang around them for a moment. Cross your arms. Return to the crowding dance floor. Let out a sigh.

Holy shit she’s moving towards you now.

One guy’s blatantly looking down her top. Another’s grinding against her. But she pushes past them, body still enslaved by the beat. But honing in on you like a beacon. 

You make the mistake of looking her in the eyes again. She smirks wider. Like she’s got you in her clutches with a lasso, she shimmies through the sweaty bodies around her until she’s parted from the crowd.

You snap behind your back, and time pauses.

You scan the room.

Wide hips flaring out of the confines of her fitted leather pants. Gait so resonant you can almost hear its cadence amidst the blasting music. Face dyed a myriad of colors, but her expression remains unchanging.

“Are you just going to keep staring?”

It didn’t work.

She’s right in front of you now. Three steps away. You fail to realize it until she points it out. “Not much of a dancer?”

“I dapple. Just not tonight. Just not here.”

“I’ll only believe it when I see it. Too pompous to join the crowd? Are we not good enough for you?” she remarks, voice lilting like a tease towards the end.

“Got business to attend to—always. Can’t mix work and play.”

“Didn’t seem that way when you were eye-fucking me just now.”

The bouncers on either side of you flinch. You can tell because of the way these two burly buffoons fucking twitched. She can tell too because she’s two steps away now and pressing the matter still.

“I wasn’t eye-fucking you. Just patrolling. Just work.”

“Is your job supposed to be undressing wasted girls like me in your mind? You’re doing a terrible job then. I’m pretty fucking wasted right now, but I don’t feel very naked.”

“You’re not—.”

She’s one step away now.

“Hm?” she raises, and so does her brow. “Too on the nose for you? Or are you still ‘working’?”

Her hand finds its way to your chest as she presses into your clavicle, wiping away that one bead of sweat that rolls down your blazer. Your eyes never leave her face. Even as she tugs on and adjusts the rise of your collar. “What’s it going to take to be supervised by you? Directly.”

You tilt your head to the side. When that isn’t enough, you step as far back as you can before bumping into another velvet cord. Then you sigh. “Respectfully. Hands off. I’m an employee here.”

Her eyes widen like she just caught something. “Part of the background? Boring. Someone like you being off-limits—such a waste.”

You don’t know how to respond to that. That’s fine. Because she doesn’t let you. “Is it company policy to not mingle with your clientele? I just saw you getting real handsy with a group of girls earlier. You’re making me jealous just thinking about it.”

The implication of that statement is something you just keep to yourself.

Before she can move closer, you hold your hand out. “If there’s anything I can help you with, just let me know. But this?” you pause, pointing your finger to her then back to yourself. “Not a chance.”

She clicks her teeth and backs away too. Finally. But her eyes are what do you over. She’s rolling them at you. Mockery. Frustration. Disappointment. “You’re no fun. Keep eye-fucking me then. Hope you get a kick out of it.”

Before you know it, she seamlessly rejoins the crowd, dancing with the masses once again.

What the fuck was that? What the fuck just happened? 

You don’t know. You’re not sure. 

All you can think of is finishing your patrol so you can get some rest. You want to make sure everything’s in order for the evening before you leave the rest to your second. So you continue on your nightly routine. Just like nothing happened.

But god forbid this woman is making it difficult for you to pretend like nothing happened.

You can’t explain it.

When you patrol the lower tables—the ones closer to the dance floor—you see her spiraling around the edges of the crowd. Not really lingering too long at any one spot. Like she’s trailing you. Following you. You had to make one of the customers repeat themselves when you got distracted by the way she ‘fixed’ her top, flashing you enough skin to imagine the rest of what’s hidden beneath it.

Over by the entrance, while you were in the middle of resolving a dispute over fake I.D.s, she was hovering behind you. At a safe distance. Behind the barriers and bouncers. She’s watching you work. Observing how you tell someone off without needing to raise your voice. Smirking at you, twirling her hair, staring at you as she’s playing thoughts in her mind that you can only assume are no good.

Even when you sneak away to relieve yourself at the staff washroom. The moment you come back out, she’s sipping on a glass of whiskey. Staring daggers at your surprised face. With that gaze of hers that short-circuits your brain. She doesn’t say anything. Just sips. Just drinks. Just relishes in your flushed state as you hurry yourself away from her.

She’s not even meddling. She’s not even provoking.

She’s just there.

She’s going around you, but god does it feel like you’re the one orbiting her. Because this woman knows she’s got you.

She’s got you good.

“Anything else I missed? I’ll leave the cleanup and closing to you. Like always,” you tell your second, who’s already writing things down on his notepad. “And Minho, please, for the love of god, will you stop wearing those ridiculous ties?”

Minho peeks up from his sheets and pokes the yellow rubber-ducky tie with his pen. “This? My mother bought it for me, boss. It’d be a waste not to wear it.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “At least wear it somewhere else. Well—whatever. Before I go, make sure to keep an eye out on Table Nine. Got a feeling they’re runners—.”

“Boss!”

The beckon rings like a siren. You register it immediately and are ready to strafe past Minho when you see one of the serving staff runs up to the both of you. Panting. Completely out of breath. “Boss, there’s … ha … there’s a commotion on the dance floor!”

Your eyes first dart over to Hajoon. But oddly enough, he’s not trying to hit on anyone again this time. Instead, he’s watching something. Watching someone.

In fact, everyone on the dance floor’s watching someone. Noticeably so now that you realize there’s a small circular parting in the center of the crowd.

You follow the staff over and freeze at the outer edge of this commotion.

You see her.

She’s dancing like she owns the place. Like she owns the dance floor. Hajoon’s got his hands on the beat, but she’s got her hands all over her body. She’s being a diva right now. Bathing in the glow of the lights shining down on her. Feeling herself. Basking in the attention that’s being dripped all over her.

She ropes in one guy at a time. Dancing with him. Swaying next to him. Grinding on him. She slides her back up and down the front of one of them. Wraps her arms around the neck of another. One of the poor blokes makes the mistake of moving in to kiss her. She immediately bites his lip and gets a kick out of his pained reaction.

Your fist is clenching tightly by your side, and you’re not sure why.

Before you know it, you’re pushing—no, shoving—people aside just to get to the center of it all. Just to get to her. Tugging on the length of your necktie, when you make it to the lady in question, you hold out an arm to stop the next guy from entertaining her, and just grab her by her arm.

“What the hell are you doing?” you demand. She reeks of alcohol and sweat. “You’re drunk. You’re making a scene.”

“Yeah? Is that not allowed?” she prods, stepping closer to you. She shrugs your grip off and crosses her arms. “Didn’t think it wasn’t, but hey, made you look didn’t I? I knew it was the only way to grab your attention.”

You glance past her. To Hajoon. The man scrambles for his headphones and changes up the music, inviting everyone to return to the dance floor and party like there’s no tomorrow once again. Back to the regular routine of things.

But you don’t let up on her.

And she doesn’t let up on you.

Because her hands are now resting on your waist.

“Saw you talking to shorty over there,” she announces, pointing at Minho with her lips. “Thought you’d be off the clock now, manager. Didn’t think you’d eye-fuck me again that quickly though.”

“I was not eye—.”

She pulls you in. Whether it’s with her hands or with her gaze, you can’t tell. “Just shut up and dance.”

You indulge her.

You lied. You’re not a very good dancer. And she notices this. She leads you both. At times she lets you do your stupid little shindig while she’s busting out a move. Other times she’s holding you by the wrist and guiding your hands to either her shoulders or her hips.

And you’re starting to come undone.

How could you not? 

Every run of her fingers across one of your shoulders to the other. Every bump of her butt against your crotch. Every nick of her knee against your thigh. She’s toying with you. She’s building you up. Leading you on. Because she knows.

She knows you can’t do a single damn thing about it.

You don’t keep track of time. But after what feels like an hour of working the dance floor with you, she finally pulls away enough to give you your own personal space again. She walks you over to the wings to where her table is. Table Twenty-Three.

First thing you see are two couples engaged in a contest to see who could be the sloppiest when making out.

“Don’t mind them. They won’t get naked. At least, they told me this isn’t that kind of club,” she explains. She casually reaches over one of the couples, who you are pretty sure are sneaking in some fingering on the couch, and grabs one of their drinks. She sniffs it. She reels. But she downs it anyway.

“Are we done here? Had your fill yet?” you ask. Unsure of where you’re trying to go with that.

“Yeah. Be seeing you.”

What?

You swear you almost hear yourself say that out loud. You don’t know what face you’re making, but it must be an entertaining one—for her at least.

“Was fun. Maybe we’ll come back here again.”

She followed you around. She stalked you like a hawk. She dragged you into her little shenanigans in the middle of work. All for this? All for nothing?

It was your turn to feel dumbfounded tonight. Dumbfounded because you were a fool for expecting anything bigger to have come out of this.

You bit your tongue enough to bleed iron into your tastebuds before nodding stiffly. “Right. Right, be seeing you.”

To add insult to injury, she waves at you with a smirk as you lug your body towards the staff exit.

---

“Boss, Table Eleven’s going red.”

You know that signal. You know that queue.

In moments, you’re already halfway towards said table, when your shoes screech against the polished floor. Stopping yourself.

“Hm? Care to join us?”

It’s her again.

Honey blonde hair pulled behind her. Black ribbed plunging half-sleeve top baring a fraction of her upper midriff. Bandeaux bra on full display. Exposed skin moist from collecting the condensation dripping from her glass.

You clock the empty vodka bottle on the table. You scan the eight different people gathered around the table with her. You take note of her challenging half-lidded stare.

“If you’re done with that drink, I’m taking it.”

“Tsk, we’re just playing spin the bottle. Is that not allowed?”

“Your little ‘game’ is disturbing everyone else. Take a hint,” you warn her, eyes fixed on her face that remains unflinching before you.

“It’s a fucking club. Of course we’ll be loud. Don’t want your customers having fun, manager-nim?”

The way she addresses you makes your blood boil all the more. “Give me that—.”

She beats you to it and spins the bottle. Lo and behold it lands with the snout facing you. The bottom facing her.

Smirking, she taps her lip with her newly painted red nail. “Five shots of scotch. In a row. Think you can do it?”

The crowd around her table is clapping and leering at you. But you ignore them. “I’m not playing—.”

She loops an arm around you and blinks innocently. Twice. For just a moment. “Aren’t you supposed to be the life of the party? Let’s get this night started properly. Shots! Shots! Shots!”

They begin to mimic your chant. “Shots! Shots! Shots!”

The other tables begin to chime in. “Shots! Shots! Shots!”

Soon even some of your serving staff applaud you. Egg you. Even when you give them the eye.

You glance at the bottle of scotch conveniently already at the table. You glance at the clubgoers surrounding you now. Then you glance at her.

“I don’t drink. Not anymore.”

You get booed in a heartbeat.

Shrugging, she dips down and fills up one of the shotglasses for herself. “Suit yourself.” Before you know it, she’s already drank one. Then two. Then five. All down the hatch.

Just as you are about to leave this brewing cesspool, someone tugs you from behind.

You’re not one to take that lying down. Ready to unwrap your arm from them and shove them to the ground. But the lightness of the grip is what throws you off.

And it’s enough hesitation for her to pounce on your lips and kiss you.

You don’t pull away. You can’t. 

She’s holding your face. Both hands. One on each cheek. When you tug upwards, she follows, moaning into your mouth. But where you expect her bare tongue, something liquid is in its place. When you realize what’s happening, it’s already too late.

She just snowballed five shots of scotch right into your mouth.

When the taste of liquor hits your tastebuds, something fires in your brain. Something reflexive. Something ingrained. You rip your lips from her and spray out the alcohol. The two dudes behind you are fucking pissed, but you apologize sincerely and call for some staff to help clean the mess.

Returning to her, you grab her by the elbow. “I told you I don’t fucking drink—.”

“That wasn’t a drink. That was a taste,” she corrects you, smirking once more. Using that fucking gaze on you again. “Taste of me. Don’t get too drunk now.”

You’re unable to react. You let her kiss you once more on the lips and giggle before rejoining her posse for the night.

“Are you alright, boss? You look—.”

“Don’t just stand there, Minho. Get me some damn water,” you snap as you feel the liquor burning your tastebuds still. Thank god it didn’t drip into your throat. A taste was more than enough to give you goosebumps.

As Minho disappears towards the bar, you just watch as this woman pours cognac down her throat. Straight from the bottle. While looking at you.

With a smirk.

“B-Boss …? Boss!”

“What is it newbie? I don’t have all night,” you huff at the bouncer. You could have been nicer to him. Nicer about it. But doing arithmetic manually on a calculator and a physical spread sheet for hours would put anyone in a fuckass mood. “What do you need from me?”

“S-S-Someone’s um … stripping—.”

You don’t even have to ask for context.

As soon as you burst out from the break room, your eyes immediately train on the sound booth. On Hajoon.

On her.

You claw through the crowd. Is it to get closer to the unfolding scene? Is it to stop it? You’re not sure. You don’t fucking know. All you can picture are the things that will spread about your club after tonight if this continues.

When you make it to the divider, the newbie watches your back as you jump over the cord. From the first few steps up towards the elevator platform alone, you get a clear view from the side.

The twin-tailed little brat’s undressing in the fucking DJ booth. And Hajoon’s just letting her. Of course he fucking would.

Her tail point fur jacket hits the floor first. Pools at the ankles like shorn elegance. Pure irony though given the debauchery that persists to unfold. Her hair whips forward. Then back. She’s dancing in place like she’s boxed in a tight circle. Hands draw forwards and slide down Hajoon’s chest as she sways downwards herself too. When she shoots back up, she makes the extra effort to jut her butt out.

If you didn’t have any self-control, you would have slapped the fucking tease out of her voluminous rump.

It’s a miracle they’re still contained within her shorts. Those things are cut closer to her crotch than her knees. You cut her some slack. It compliments her plain white crop top that exposes the expanse of her navel.

Your focus drifts to the jewel affixed above her belly button. Sparkling. Beckoning to you.

When you glance back up again, she’s caught you once more. “Eye-fucking me up close this time? Get in line, manager. This one’s a public show.”

Hajoon notices your arrival and lifts up his beer, nearly fucking spilling it on his setup like an idiot. “Yo, bossman! Where’d you pull this baddie? She said you knew each other? You two banging or something?”

But the woman between you both hushes him with a finger and whispers something you can’t hear from all the music. Hajoon licks his lips when she pulls away and winks at you. “Fine shit, man. Fine fucking shit! Let’s turn this party up!”

As the tempo of the song speeds up, so does her dancing. She’s got a way with her body—you’ll give her that. Even as you walk back down, you can’t help but take a peek. When you do, you see her flex and swirl that torso of hers like she was goddamn built for it.

She locks eyes with you a final time before digging her thumbs into the hem of her top. “Think you can handle this?”

Just when you lunge for her, she chuckles and puts her hands back down. “Did you really think I was a slut? Disappointing. And here I thought you cared about me more than that.”

Clenching your teeth so hard they could shatter, you pick her coat off the floor and dump it in one of the chairs behind Hajoon. The last thing you see before heading back is her playing up the role she’s taken on for the night and acting as Hajoon’s eye candy for his set.

She manages to catch you in the crowd and licks her lips, biting her tongue midway.

“Fucking brat.”

“Fuck me—boss!”

You quite literally snap your pen. The ink fountains forward but you’re faster. You wrap it up in some of your old quarterly reports. Cursing under your breath, you dump the blotting mess beneath you and drag your fingers across your face. “What the fuck is the problem this time, Minho?”

“It’s her. Again.”

That’s not possible. It’s almost five in the morning now. Club’s been closed for an hour at least. What the hell was she still doing here?

No matter. You push out of your chair. Don’t bother to put your blazer back on. Just lower your head and allow Minho to accompany you to the scene of the next crime.

You hear it before you see it—the sound of glass breaking.

Then it all comes into view.

The closing staff standing frozen outside the bar. The three bouncers exchanging looks at each other in an attempt to figure out what to do. Hajoon who’s finishing his order of truffle fries while recording the whole thing.

Not a single one of them dared to stop her.

“All of you. Out. Now.”

Your command echoes throughout the now empty club. All eyes are on you as you tug on your tie and tilt your head to the side. Vein along your neck threatening to pop. “I said. Out. Now.”

“Manager, she’s been causing—.”

You raise your palm up to one of the bouncers. “I’ll take it from here. Leave closing to me. And Minho, go take our closing staff out for some fish sticks. Use my card.”

“Boss …”

You toss him your credit card and gesture for them to get the hell out of here. They look confused. They look concerned. But by the end of it, they all feel relieved. Even Hajoon whose set finished earlier tonight tagged along with your staff to freeload. You let it slide. You have bigger fish to fry.

And she reminds you of this with the sound of another glass item shattering across the floor.

“Oops. That one was accidental this time.”

You saunter over to the bar and lean on the counter. Arms folded against each other. Eyes trained on this little goddamn devil in front of you. 

Her outfit surprises you.

You thought you had her figured out. The more comfortable she got here at SAXO, the less you’ve seen her wear. But tonight, she’s all covered up. Long sleeve leopard print. Matching ankle length tights. Pink nails. Some glitter sprinkled across her eyes just above her splash of blush. For someone’s who’s been clubbing all night, she looks like she just came fresh out of the shower.

She smirks. “You just love eye-fucking me, don’t you?”

“Cut the charade. It’s just you and me. What the fuck is your deal?”

She raises a brow. Runs a finger across the convex surface of a bottle of Patron in her hands. Contemplating. “Does it always have to be something in here?”

“There’s always something with you.”

You could never understand her. Even if you tried. She does everything she can think of to be an absolute thorn in your side. But she never acknowledges you beyond the provocation. She pushes and pulls. But she never reaches. And you’re not sure what irritates you more.

The fact that she keeps doing this each night. Or the fact that you want her to reach you.

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t enjoyed the attention.

Looking at that flirty smile of hers that dances dangerously across the boundary of your tolerance, you can’t help but acknowledge it. She’s played you. She’s played you good. Attention-seeking. Body-chasing. Mind-filling. Every night—every fucking night—she’s on your mind. What she’s up to this time. What she’s wearing. If she’s looking at you. Looking for you. Testing you. Teasing you. Tempting you. You’ve thought about what it might be like if you weren’t surrounded by other clubgoers. What you might say to her if you had the chance to pull her away in private. What you might do to her if you were away from any prying eyes.

And now, as you’ve said, it’s just the two of you. There was no need to pull on any acts.

That’s what you want to believe, at least. It’s immediately shattered once you see the bottle smash onto the floor. Spilling alcohol across her boots.

“Oopsie,” she utters without a hint of fucking remorse. “That didn’t taste good anyway. I’m doing you a favor.”

As she reaches out for another battle, you exhale roughly. “What … What do you want from me?”

“Want? From you?” she repeats, swinging her next victim between her knuckles. Just waiting for one wrong move to let it slip and shatter. “You’re already doing what I want you to.”

“Which is—?”

Shatter. “Entertaining me.”

She doesn’t even pick up the bottles anymore. She’s just flicking them off the shelves.

“Ooh, expensive.”

Down goes the Armand de Brignac.

“Expensive?”

Along with the Magnum Moët & Chandon.

“And oh, most expensive.”

And so does the Rosé 1959 Dom Pérignon.

“You see what I mean?” she spins around and leans against the remaining shelf with alcohol still lining the higher echelons. Prodding at you as if you’ve already proven her point. “This is why I’m having so much fun with you. You can’t do anything to me, can you? You’re not allowed to.”

“You just manage—.”

Your hand’s already gripping her wrist. Pinning it to the corner ledge. She gasps. And for the first time since you’ve met this lady, she flashes you a look you’ve never seen before.

Fear.

“You,” you pause, trying to control your breathing. Your eyes are scrambling for something to look at but they’re stuck on her. Just her. “Do you know … how much fucking money … all of this … is going to cost me?”

“H-Hey … relax. If it’s really that much—?”

“Don’t try to slither your way out of this one. I asked you a question. Answer.”

She trembles. You can feel it in her pulse. You can sense it as you tighten your grip. “I-I … I don’t. But I swear, I didn’t think—.”

“What? You didn’t think it was ‘this serious’? Thought you were still ‘playing games’ with me?” you retorted, scoffing mid-sentence. “Where the fuck have you been living all your life? Under a rock? Top shelf liquor is so fucking expensive to import. I bet recovering all of this is going to cost more than the clothes you’ve been wearing here, or the fucking dingy ass pad you live in.”

“Stop, I-I-I was just—.”

“Just? Was just? Just having fun with me?” you fill in. “I run a fucking business here. And god forbid, you have been really bad for it. Just fucking terrible. This?”

You gesture to the liquor seeping into the cracks between cabinets and the counter. Mixed scents of shattered spirits wafting between the two of you.

“This is the last straw. I’m—.”

“Going to punish me?”

What was that? What the fuck was that?

There it goes again. The glint in her eye. The pull of her lips. That snarky tone of hers when she says, “Going to write me off? Report me to the police? Call my parents or something?”

It’s almost like she’s nudging you. Pushing you past your bloody fucking limits. 

Like she’s challenging you.

Like she’s enjoying it.

“Go on. What are you going to do with me? Squeeze an apology out of me? Fine me? Blacklist me?” she lists, shaking off your grip when she knows you’re stunned and crosses her arms. Just under her bust. Highlighting it. “Go ahead and try. I fucking dare you.”

“Make me.”

There’s at least seven different things you could have done in this moment. Each likely more effective than the last as you play them out in your head. But when you’re face to face with her like this, bodies inching closer to one another, you can’t fucking take it anymore.

It’s time to show her who’s in charge. 

It’s time to show her her place.

“Strip.” “What?”

“Don’t make me say it again,” you press, stepping so close to her that your feet are now directly parallel to hers. “You’re right. Maybe I’m here as your ‘entertainment’. Then if so, let me ‘entertain’ you some more. Could bring you to the station down the street. Could make you call your lawyer or something. Could even just ban your sorry ass from SAXO myself. But that’s no fun, is it?”

“Strip. Now.”

Her mouth is taut. But it quivers. And you catch that.

“Ya … Isn’t this harassment, manager? I don’t think you’d want a case against you and your little club now, would you?” she tries to bargain. 

But you see through her chicanery and subterfuge. “After all you’ve done, this is child’s play. Strip. I’m not repeating myself again.”

Growling, she rolls her eyes and pushes you away. “Fine. Pervert. But I’m not doing it with you around—.”

“Oh, you will.”

You turn around only to remove yourself from the slimy pools of spilt liquor on the floor. Vaulting over the bar counter. Dusting your hands off. You face her again. Arms crossed. Eyebrow cocked. Waiting.

“Are you for real right now? Are you fucking serious?”

“I am. You love putting on shows, don’t you? Then put on a show. Just for me,” you fired back. Smirking. “What? You’re the one who said I kept ‘eye-fucking’ you. Shouldn’t you have expected this much from me? Strip.”

You see her knuckles go white. But you also see her mask crack.

Then you see her do as you’ve told.

She whips her hair back. Of course she does. This little princess always has to have her hair fixed. The bangle earrings she’s wearing doesn’t make it any easier for her either. Digging her thumbs against her ribs, the same way she did on the night she got into the sound booth, slowly, she starts to peel upwards. You watch as the cloth of her patterned print top tantalizingly comes undone. And you get an unfiltered view of her compliance.

She hooks the hem of her top around the back of her neck, flashing the elastic band she’s using for a bra. “There. Happy?”

You shake your head. “I said strip.”

“You said strip, and I did. This is the best you’re getting out of me—.”

“How much do you make in a day?”

“What? I’m not some fucking hooker,” she chimes. And you appreciate the sass now. Because the raise of her voice makes the soft spots of her body ripple ever-so-slightly.

“Never said that. I just asked—how much do you make in a day.”

“I don’t work.”

You chuckle again. “Then you’ve got no frame of reference for how much this all costs. How much is your top.”

“My top?”

“Yeah, how much is it.”

“I don’t fucking know. Just bought it off an app. Around ten thousand won I guess?”

“A shot of that first bottle you broke costs six times that amount. A bottle can last about twenty shots. Each. Is the math computing?”

You see the exact moment the life drains from her eyes when the math, indeed, computes.

Whistling, you click your teeth to draw her attention back to you. “Strip. Before I start thinking stripping isn’t enough.”

She’s moving. She’s stripping. But she’s doing so in a way that feels different. As her top fully comes off, she doesn’t throw it. She folds it on the countertop. Not minding your direct view from above her bra. She does the same for the tights, peeling them off like a second layer of skin, folding it on top of the former.

The fur belt around her waist remains for a while. She’s using it to cover her crotch. And you realize why.

She’s wet.

“Do … do I have to also … the underwear …?”

“What part of ‘everything’ do you not understand?” you clarify mockingly. You know she’s not getting away without undressing all the way. She knows it too. “If you don’t hurry up, my second might come back to check on me. Want him to see you like this too?”

She glowers. Even though it’s a lie. “Fuck you.”

The panties come off first. Only because the belt’s in the way. It stretches against her ankles like a spiderweb when she tries to move away from the puddle she’s standing on. You catch a glimpse of the inside. It’s darker and more prominent—the stain.

Leaning forward, she holds the counter for support before grunting to take off her panties fully now. Folds it beneath her previous layers. 

“Now the bra.”

“I fucking know,” she grunts back. You know she doesn’t need a reminder. But you let her know anyway.

Her bra isn’t the usual. Not a hook type. Not a strap type. Not even a clip type. It’s an elastic type. Just comes over the chest. Supports it naturally as gravity does its thing. Your knowledge of women’s undergarments is proven almost immediately right as you watch in utter astonishment at the way her swell of a chest comes loose from her final piece of clothing.

The recoil into one another. The ripples. The gentle sag.

You hate to admit it. But it’s fucking perfect.

She forgets to put it aside. To fold it. She just tosses it to the counter because she’s got her hand and arm across her bare tits now. You let her. Because this allows you to dip forward and tug on the long end of her belt.

“Hey, what—?”

“Walk with me. Walk to me.”

You tug on her belt. Lead her like it’s a leash. And she follows. She resists a bit, and you feel it against the tightness of the garment. But you tug back and she winces. Then moves again. Until she’s all the way out of the bar area and is now hovering next to you by one of the tables in the wings.

You clear the surface of the sturdy glass and gesture to it. “Get on.”

She doesn’t question you. Not while she’s naked. Not when you hold her dignity in her hands. In order to mount the table, she had to let go of her chest, and when she lays down, you finally get to see it.

Her full form. Naked. Unadorned. Natural. All of it for you to see.

All of it laid bare.

“God, if you weren’t such a fucking brat, you’d be perfect,” you whisper. You mean it. 

Her smooth pale skin. The shape of her chest and the sheen of sweat across it. The quiver of her thick full lips. The spread of her legs. The clasp of her thighs against each other. The bare and kempt state of her nether bits. 

They’re all right there. Laid out on the table. On full display.

Just for you.

“Yeah? Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s told me that,” she replies. Halfway between a smirk and scorn. You then realize you had said it out loud. She chuckles. Gestures to you with a finger. A hither-to motion coupled with that stare of hers again. Those ‘make me’ eyes. That ‘fuck me’ gaze. “Gonna do something about it? Or is that against company policy again, manager?”

Oh she’s asking for it now.

You loosen your tie. You kneel on the table. She looks frightened for a moment—worried the glass might break. But you prove her otherwise when you lean forward between her legs so your face is level with hers now. Hovering above it.

“I’ll show you what a fucking tease like you deserves.”

You press your lips against her and feel no resistance. Instead, she welcomes you. Her own soft hydrated folds part for you. Nibble on you. Suck you in. Her tongue is a welcome mat that unfolds into a stretch of red carpet for your own tongue to gloss and strut all over. She whimpers and moans the moment she gets her own tongue caressed in velvet. But she doesn’t complain. Doesn’t react.

Doesn’t resist.

Her hands come around your neck now as she pulls you further in, and you take this opportunity to get a little handsy yourself. 

You go for her tits. God, how could you not go for her tits? 

You’re cupping them. Fondling them. You know better than to just squeeze them like a child—no. You lift them up. You caress down the inner curve of each, polishing down and along her cleavage. If you weren’t kissing her right now, you’d have smothered your face between them. Sniffing them. But you save that for later. For now, you register the sensation of her in your head.

Hefty. Heavy. Fucking heavenly.

She gasps sharply when your right pinky hits her left nipple. You notice when you peek open an eye that she’s hard. Both of them are. Both of her nipples. They’re stiff and rounded little peaks that tempt you to oblivion. So you succumb.

One pinch and she forgets how to kiss you. Another and she’s gasping for air, breathless in your clutches. A third and she’s arching her back upwards.

“Fuuuuck,” she groans, her face getting flushed. “Do that again …”

You press your pointer to her nipple. Thumb on the other side. Wind her up by rubbing them together. Before pinching on the supple tip and pulling it upwards. Polishing it. Relishing it. Treasuring it.

She shudders more intensely now. You do the same to the other side and she’s willingly showing you the column of her neck as her body lifts from the table. “God … shit, you’re … you’re actually good with the—AHHH!”

You lick her neck. 

One stripe. Two. Slow. Tracing over the parts that make her quiver. Prolonging over the parts that make her moan. You lick upwards to her chin. Over her lips. And press a kiss on them before repeating the cycle.

Her eyes flutter open and close, unable to focus. Whenever your gazes meet, she doesn’t turn away. She stares deeper into your soul. The facade from earlier having crumbled completely.

She reaches for your chest. However she can in this tightened position. She runs her hands across your pecs, down to your abdomen, where she then hitches her fingers into your waist and belt, and unbuckles it.

While you’re licking her nipples now. suckling on them, teasing them with the sharp of your tongue alternating with the long flat wall of it, you notice she’s grinding against your thigh. There’s a noticeable dampness. A moisture. Permeating your supposedly waterproof slacks.

You chuckle and bite down on one nipple. And this makes her scream in absolute ecstasy.

One hand moves from your fly to the back of your head, gripping your hair, guiding you to where she wants you to kiss, suckle, and lick across her full fucking tits. The other unzips you. Hastily pushes your pants off. And tries to get you out of your clothes this time. When the back of her palm hits your bulge however, she freezes.

“Wait … wait—NGHHH—stop, I-I want to see this …”

You withdraw from the addiction that are her breasts and wipe the slobber from your lips against the cup of your shoulder. “What?”

“Your dick. I … I just want to see how it looks like, ok …?”

You push up from the table, nearly slipping from how sweaty your palms have gotten, and right yourself so she can sit up against the edge and be leveled with your crotch. Taking a deep breath, she palms over your bulge that’s on the verge of bursting against your boxers.

“Oh. Oh wow, you’re …” she stutters. Fails to find the right words. She looks up at you and blushes. Nothing like the incessant little prick she’s been previously. Instead, she has this yearning look on her. Like she wants to know. Wants to see. Wants to feel.

So you let her.

You don’t even move. You let her do it herself. Nails digging into your waist, prying your black underwear downwards until it slides off. You flick it off once it’s just around one heel, and you present this woman with the unadulterated direct view of your cock.

She doesn’t speak.

Her face hovers closer and closer until her left cheek presses against your semi-erect shaft. “Fuck … you’re bigger than my face … I-I … I don’t know if I can …”

“You’ll work it out. Otherwise, I’ll make sure you manage to.”

She licks her lips and bites her tongue. “Mmmh, yeah? Make me then.”

One palm on the top of her head. Another beneath her chin to angle it the right way. You press your swollen tip against the entrance to her mouth and groan. “Then fucking take it.”

You push open. Burst into the warmth. Get enveloped by the wet velvety walls past her little locked lips.

She whimpers from the first breaching. You take it slow. Knocking down an inch more. Then two. Then she’s taking you halfway in. Then, you’re knocking against her uvula at the back of her throat.

Her neck stiffens rigidly against your persistent hand, but she’s not strong enough to break free even if she tried. So you keep her there. All the way down. Lips forming a tight ring around your base as she gags and hlurks and spews her own saliva out from the small tears in her vacuum sealed mouth. You keep her there for god knows how long, taking pleasure in both the physical sensation of her mouth and the knowledge that you’re finally getting to see her use it for something other than provoking you.

Once her eyes redden beyond reason, you let go of her head, and in moments, she spits you out with a guttural groan as she could breathe properly again.

“Nguh … ha … ha … You fucking psycho … Could have—I could have choked to death on your fucking dick,” she spits out, smudging her hand across her chin. “But … ha … that was good.”

“Good?”

She bites her lip and nods, gripping your cock now with a hand. “Yeah … fucking delicious. I want more.”

“Then suck it like a good little slut.”

Knees spread, bending at an angle now, she closes the gap and licks up from your base to your tip before suckling on the head. Just a few swirls with her tongue. Before she throats your cock herself.

No prompting. No input. No hesitation.

Her head and neck work in tandem to bob her salivating mouth back and forth along the length of your shaft. Lips cruising down your sensitive skin. Tongue flattening and caressing your underside. Whenever her lips meet her hand that’s gripping what she can’t reach, it makes this popping sound that you want to hear more and more.

She’s got no technique. She gags too easily. But fucking hell—the raw and primal energy she exhibits is relentless. It’s fucking intoxicating.

This woman’s moaning in between violent gags, and you notice it whenever her nipples bump into your thighs. You smirk. You push deeper into her, making her eyes go wide, hit the back of her throat, and force her to adjust while sucking you hard and fast still. But this time, her nipples graze your inner thigh each time and you see her eyes melt from their initial panic and hesitation.

When she pulls you out with a loud smacking sound, she’s gasping, panting, eyes wet, lips swollen, but tongue licking up your precum on the tip oh-so-fucking-hungrily.

“You taste so … fucking … good, mmm,” she murmurs, stroking your first few inches, thumb rolling over the head. “Who knew the uptight manager was packing so fucking much?”

“Consider yourself the exception and not the rule,” you barely get out in one full breath as her stroking is getting more intentional rather than lazy.

“Lucky me then,” she mutters, blowing your tip a kiss. She licks up once. Then twice. Then circles around ridge of your head. Playing with it. Toying with you. Face disappearing beneath you as her eyes almost glow. “This is all mine—.”

The doors to the club open and you hear footsteps.

Time doesn’t afford you the luxury to curse. You’re both scrambling. For clothes. For refuge. Anything.

You only manage to put your pants back on. Not even to fix your underwear. Your belt’s not even buckled. When you see who it is walking into the open space of the club, he shoots you a weird look. “Boss?”

“Already done? Thought you’d all be enjoying spending my money a bit more,” you reply, hands in your pockets to stop your slacks from falling down. “Where are the others?”

“Um, home, boss. It’s six in the morning.”

“Right, right.”

“Boss, you haven’t been drinking again, have you?”

You gesture to yourself with a thumb jutting up from your waist. “Me? Why would I be?”

But Minho shakes his head, one hand smoothening the folds of his brown and white checkered tie that reminds you of brownies. “Nothing. Just making sure. Did you manage to sort out the issue? With the lady?”

You nod. That’s all you can give him. That’s all you really want to give him. Because your dick’s being bent at such a bad fucking angle in your tight slacks that you want to just let it free again. It would rather be inside somewhere else too. “Told her off. She got scared easily when I talked to her alone. Said she’ll ‘behave’ more—whatever that means.”

“Is she still here?”

You freeze. Muscles behind your thighs tighten. “She left just after you and our staff did.”

“Then why is her fur thing still there?” he asks, pointing to the peeking belt the woman left behind. If Minho hadn’t pointed it out, you wouldn’t have seen the terrible fucking hiding spot she chose. On all fours behind one of the table’s walled legs. Buck naked.

As Minho approaches, you casually just pick up the belt with your left hand and tug on it. Even when it goes taut. She gasps and shakes her head nervously, but you continue as you stare down at her. “Must have left it. I’ll hand it back when she comes back. I know she will. Leave it to me.”

Those final four words are always enough for your second to stop in his tracks, just a few meters away from your table, and nod. “Got it. You should get some rest too, boss. If, you know, only if you can. I don’t want to pressure you if it doesn’t—.”

“Thanks, Minho. I appreciate it.”

“And hey, if you ever need someone to talk to or share the workload from admin—.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Go home, Minho. I’ll see you tonight.”

He nods and salutes you with three fingers. “See you tonight, boss.”

Once you’re certain your second’s walked out the door and is well beyond the entrance of SAXO, you pinch the bridge of your nose and feel the other end of the belt shifting between your knuckles.

“Is he always like that? Sounds like he sucks your dick more than I do.”

“He’s enthusiastic. He’s a godsend,” you tell her, helping her up to her feet. But you don’t let her go. Not the belt. Not her waist. You pull her in until she’s arching her stomach towards you. Dipping backwards. “And you? I’m not done with you yet. Let’s head to my office.”

Her drool-covered mouth shifts into a smirk. “Yeah? Make me—.”

You crash your lips onto hers and she jumps into your arms. You lift her up by her thighs and support one arm around her lower back as you stumble across the wings of the club to get to the staff-only area.

Kicking the door open, you slip in before it can close. And you feel her tongue lapping at your lips and teeth as she grips your head firmly like she doesn’t want you to leave. Oh boy, do you have no plans to leave her at all.

You hasten down the corridor. Shoulder bumping into the water dispenser. Then, you fish for your keys and unlock your office.

Once you’re both in, your elbow flies to the button and it locks with a click. She pulls away from you and presses her forehead against yours, caressing your cheek. “Hmm, you’re sexy like this. Taking control. Not holding back.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she giggles lowly as you put her on your desk. Her ass is compressing against your laptop as she sits on it. She takes a moment to look around. At the only light hovering above you both. The two sofas on either side of the front of your desk. At the pictures, certificates, and permits on one wall. “Never done this before. Banging in the backrooms of a place.”

“Who said I was going to fuck you?”

She slaps your neck and points her chin at you. “Really? You worked me up like this just to—.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Her sentence is choked off immediately when you rub two fingers against her clit. Her hand instinctively flies to your neck, holding you for support. You rub steadily in circles, occasionally swiveling over the hood, swiping back and forth over her sensitive little button. And which each motion, you watch her progressively soften her face up from a glower, to a whimper, to a moan.

“Yeah—NGHH MHHH—yeah I think I-I like you like this best.”

“Like what?”

She inhales through her clenching teeth. You’re still swiping down her clit with your thumb like you’re flitting through bills at the bar counter during closing time. “L-Like you … hnghh … like you know just what to do.”

“Do I?”

“I-I-I don’t know. I’ll … mmh—give you a point for the kissing, but—.”

She interrupts herself with a moan. The culprit? Your tongue.

“But what?” you raise, licking once more from her entrance all the way to her hood. Her pussy tastes like it smells. Sweaty. Musky. Bit of tang.

Tastes like need.

You feel her fingers knit through your hair. “But … I nghh … but I was the one doing most of the kissing …”

Palms to her thighs, you keep her legs parted. Eyes up to see her reaction. Nose bumping into her button as a tease at first, but now you’re intentionally grinding the pad of it against her clit. Tongue swiping up and down her slit like a credit card that won’t register at the terminal. “Go on. I’m sure I’ve got more points in there somewhere.”

Her fingers dig into your scalp. “I’d … I’d give you two points for all … the fucking things … mmm you did to my … to my tits …”

You kiss her clit. Suckle on it. Pin the hood between your flaps as you peel it back gently with the sharp of your tongue and swirl around her now-exposed button like it’s your favorite M&M. “I sense a but there.”

As you say that, you grip her ass now, finger jammed between her plush bottom and the edge of your laptop. “Continue or I’ll stop.”

“But it’s not fair because—AHHH—because I-I … I’m always sensitive there anyway …”

You figured. But you don’t excuse her.

Your tongue flattens itself against her and does this perpetual motion that makes her feel like you’re never running out of tongue. Up and down. Side to side. Rotations in both clockwise and in reverse. You don’t let up. You never let up. Not until you feel her dribbling that delicious nectar against your chin. Not until she’s moaning up a storm from just your tongue alone. Not until she’s yanking your fucking head lose.

“Sh-sh-shit … nghh … yes … YES! Fuck—I’m close, I-I-I’m—.”

You press your cheek to the side to catch your breath. Rest your tongue. “How many points am I getting for this?”

She dunks your head back against her pussy. “Shut u-up and just eat me … please …”

You smirk. That’s what you want to hear. You slow down your pace though. No longer giving her endless stimulation. No longer lapping her up like a hungry dog. You take your time. Build your pace. Get her closer and closer to that fucking point of no return. But don’t send her off into the deep end.

“Faster … please faster fuck … nghhh you’re—I know what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing? Tell me,” you say between medium-paced strokes. Like you’re enjoying a vanilla soft serve. Taking your time. But not letting the cream melt off. “Lost your words? You were so full of them—.”

“You’re teasing me,” she pushes, groaning with her back arching up. “Please … fuck … please …”

“Please what?”

“Please … eat my fucking pussy out like you own it!”

That’s all you need.

You slide your wide palms up from her butt, down her thighs, until they’re behind her knees, pinning both of them next to her face, folding her in half. Her back arches. Just the perfect height for you to lean forward and eat her the fuck out.

“OHHHH FUCK YES! Shit … shit … too much—TOO MUCH!”

But you don’t stop.

Your tongue hones in on her clit. Spreading around your saliva and her juices like a butter knife against smooth toast. She’s trembling, then shuddering, then palpitating. And that’s your queue to keep it steady. You lap at her like you’ve been starving for days. Even when your tongue numbs. Even when your jaw slacks. Even when your mouth is now full of her fucking scent and flavor.

You. Don’t. Stop.

“Fuck—CUMMING!”

She’s a squirter. She’s a goddamn fucking squirter. 

When she erupts she glazes your face with a warm spray. It lasts for more than ten seconds. Not stopping until the mess she’s made is dripping down onto your long-sleeves. She can’t breathe. She’s forgotten how to. So you decide to not be a dick and let her have a moment to herself first.

And the moment she’s regained her senses, she looks up at you and sits up. “That … ha … ha … felt amazing. You were amazing.”

But you hold your hand out against her thigh and push her back into that folded ball, knees to her head, ass up in the air.

“What—?”

“Hold it. Hold yourself like that for me.”

Reddened at the face, she nods and tucks her hands beneath her knees to hold herself in position—in offering—for you.

Now that? That is a picture-perfect moment.

You press your thumbs to the highest button. By your neck. You pop it open. You do the same for the second. Pop it open. You have about eight of these. And you take your time with each one. Because you know she’s watching you. Waiting for you. Wishing she could be the one to just rip your polo from you and finally see your bare body. You know that much. You know it because while her mouth may lie, her eyes? They don’t.

Her eyes never lie.

Once you’re finally pulling your arms through your sleeves and dropping the polo on the floor, she groans when she sees what’s underneath. “Are you kidding me? That must be fucking hot in there. You wear that every night?”

You don’t answer. You pull your undershirt off. Shove your slacks down with your boxers. And step forward. Pressing your hands next to her knees, which are next to her face. You lean in and grin. “Manager’s choice.”

You slap your cock against her pussy like you would her lips, and she responds with a tremble. Her pussy has a life of its own. It’s throbbing. Pulsating. Even after an orgasm. Such a fucking greedy little hole on an insatiable little brat. But no matter. You’ll feed her soon enough.

You grind into her. Rub your length against her folds. Poke your tip into her receding belly button. Make her feel the heat between her legs. Giving her the appetizer. 

Her eyes flicker with the fire of someone who just can’t fucking wait to burn. But you don’t move. Not much. Not anything beyond some grinding and dry humping. If you can even still call it ‘dry’ at that point. Considering your underside is being conveniently lubricated with each caress of her pussy.

“Are you going to fuck me or just stare me to sleep?” she spits. You have to admire her spunk despite how she’s folded on your desk like this. “Maybe I should call your little errand boy to do me instead. Maybe he won’t waste my time—.”

“Beg.”

She falls silent. Like you pushed the right button. 

“No.”

You slap your shaft against her pussy and wake her up. Like you slapped her across the face too. “Beg. Or I can just walk out of here, head to a strip club, and fuck one of the girls there instead.”

“Like hell you could. They don’t allow that.”

“I could. I know people.”

She bites her lip. “Fuck you. I’m not going to beg. You either fuck me or you don’t.”

You pull away. Motioning just the slightest bit for your undershirt. But immediately, you feel a grip against your arm.

“If you put that fucking undershirt back on, I will never forgive you.”

You chuckle. “Yeah?”

She spreads her legs. Wider. Lifts her butt. Higher. Makes it so her body is parted not just in invitation, but also so you can see her face clean down the middle. Past her tits. Resting against the fan of hair draped behind her like a veil.

“Please. Fuck me. Or whatever—.”

You push your dick in.

The enlarged tip meets some resistance already, noted by the pitch of her moan. There’s a ring. A tight fucking ring at the entrance. And for a heartbeat you’re afraid you might rip something. But just like her attitude, her body learns to cave in to you.

You’re in now. Not just the tip that flares at the base of her. Not just the first few inches that part the tight clenching walls of hers. But all the way in.

You’re pressed in so deep that there’s nowhere else to go. And your cock isn’t even fully inside her.

Her eyes widen. Whites glowing as her pupils dilate. “Shit. Fuck. Y-You’re stretching me … T-T-Take it slow—please—AHHH!”

You don’t take it slow.

Pressing her hands firmer against the back of her own knees, using that grip to slide her closer to you. You pull out and then ram your cock deep inside her. Once. Twice. Repeatedly. Faster. Gaining pace. Gaining momentum. Knocking on her womb with everything you’ve fucking got.

And she is just a mess.

“Is this what you fucking imagined when you were messing with me? Is this what you fucking wanted when you were acting like a little brat every night? Answer me,” you demand, pressing into her thighs now, gripping them, pounding incessantly. You haven’t had sex in god knows how long. It only felt right to dissolve completely into the temptation of her. “What? Lost your words?”

Her eyes can’t focus on any one thing, drifting here and there. Mouth agape. Tongue firmly planted between her lips. She’s moaning with each of your thrusts. So you fuck into her faster to hear it. To hear more. You’re immediately rewarded by the change in pitch, the change in frequency, and the added percussive of her tits slapping together.

Sweat dripping down your face and neck, you grip her ass from the side and slap it. Watching the pink blossom. Feeling her skin heat up. You spank her again. And again. And again. Until she finally screams her reply.

“YES! Fuck … fuck … FUCK—YES! Pound me like this. Keep fucking going. NGHHH you’re going to fucking ruin me!”

“Yeah? Then get fucking ruined.”

You press your thumb to her clit and start rubbing it fast. No direction. No patter. Just fast flicks and rotations.

“FUCK! YOU’RE—.”

Smack. Smack. Smack. Your hips meet the swell of her ass as she’s bouncing on your dick. Matching your pace. Meeting each upward thrust of yours with a downwards stroke of hers.

“C-CLOSE! Don’t stop—DON’T FUCKNG STOP!”

You pull her ass off the edge just to knock her knees into your desk. Her eyes are glazed over. Pure fucking bliss. You’re working double time with your heels and your waist to deliver blow after blow deep into her pussy. She’s clenching. Squeezing you. Craving your fucking release. But you don’t stop. You don’t give her that luxury. Not yet.

“Who’s fucking your little pussy right now?”

“MMMH … wh-what—?”

“Answer me! Who’s fucking ruining your little pussy right now?” you grunt, fucking the daylights into her while fiddling with her clit.

“Y-You … AHH!”

“Yeah? And who’s going to make you cum? Answer me.”

There’s less hesitation this time. She spits it out, “You! Fuck ….fuck I-I-I can’t—.”

“And who fucking owns you? Tell me. Say it. Moan it. Fucking scream it—.”

“YOU FUCKING OWN MY PUSSY, MANAGER!”

That was it.

You smudge your thumb against her button, really grind into it. You force whatever remaining strength you have left to thrust specifically upwards into the soft spongy spot that kept making her lose her breath. And you lean in to kiss her. Passionately. Sloppily. Possessively.

Claiming her. As you claim her squirting orgasm all over your cock.

She can’t even moan. Just whimpering into your kiss as she lets go of her shaking legs. You grab her ankles and feel her feet tensing into a point. But she slaps your arms and pulls them closer to her, tugging on them like reigns so she can feel your full erect length stretching her pussy down to the final spasm of her release.

Then, it’s your turn.

“Fuck … fuck that—wait … wait wait wait—AHHHH SHIT—!”

One arm behind her back, holding her close. The other lifting her leg up so her knee’s hooked over your shoulder. One hand gripping her waist. The other palming her clit. You send her into a state of borderline catatonia as she moans and groans and scrambles to try and break free as you overstimulate her senses. But you don’t stop. You chase after your own release while inside her clenching and spasming death-grip of a pussy.

“Going to fucking—.”

“GIVE IT TO ME! GIVE ME YOUR FUCKING LOAD!”

You burst.

Your whole body’s tensed. Did you know that? You didn’t up until you allowed yourself to let go. To let it all loose. The first shot burns your tip with how rapid it fired out. With how tight she’s clamping around you. The next few shots spread pleasure all over your stomach, racing up your spine, and then finally scattering across the back of your head. The last few shots send your mind into a daze as your first orgasm in arguably months finally escapes you. Finally finds its place. Finally fills her the fuck up so bountifully.

Unsheathing yourself from her warm, sweating, and pulsating orifice, you let your cock droop against your thigh. Semi-erect still. Sensitive to the cool air of your office. Dripping an ounce or two of leftover cum.

And she’s there. On your desk. Unmoving. Naked, heaving mass. Sweaty all over. Arms flayed out to the side. Chest rising and falling unsteadily. Nipples perking from the cool. Ass hanging off the edge. One knee pointed upwards. The other outstretched with her leg to keep her steady.

There she is. Cum dripping out of her like a mark. Like a signature.

There she fucking is. No masks. No games. No resistance.

Completely laid bare.

---

The door to your office bursts open. But you’re not flinching this time. You’re focusing on transferring your hand-written computations from the pile of papers next to you. Digitalizing them.

“What’s the matter this time, Minho? We haven’t even opened yet.”

“Sorry for not knocking boss, but it’s Hajoon. He … let’s just say he ‘pre-gamed’ a little too hard and is um, throwing up all over Table Thirty-One—.”

“Well, clean it up. Do I have to be the one to deal with every single mess?”

Minho’s eyes lower to his polished shoes. “I … You’re right. I’ll handle this myself.”

He pauses. Looks at you now. You know this despite being deep in your sheets. You can see him from your peripheral. “And?”

“Boss, are you … eating something?”

You shrug. “Haven’t had a meal all day. Haven’t caught any shuteye either. All the damages. All the losses. Marking them all down first.”

“Want me to grab some food then before we open? What are you craving?” he asks with a smile. And you can sense that he’s quite hungry too.

“Think that American place a few streets down’s still open? I could go for a sloppy joe right about now.”

He snaps and winks at you. “You got it boss. I’ll be on my—huh. There’s that sound again.”

“Must be a leak in the vents. I’ll call plumbing later.”

Minho grins and nods. “Always one step ahead, aren’t you, boss?”

You nod in reply and return to your sheets. There’s a brief pause. Then, Minho’s finally disappeared behind your closing door.

In moments, her head resurfaces from underneath your desk. Face sweaty, half dripping with cum half drying in it, thick lips pursing and bubbling over the tip of your cock.

“You like it sloppy, don’t you? Mmmmh,” she teases while wiping your thick shaft against her softer features. “Who could have guessed?”

You reach down to lift her chin and say, “If you’re going to pay off your debt, you might as well get back to it. We’re opening in two hours. So unless you want my staff to wonder why one of our clubgoers is walking around ruined like a cheap little whore, I suggest you make it worth my while.”

Giggling with that same teasing energy of hers, but just converted into something else now, she nods and kisses your tip again.

“Yes, manager.”

[iznsfw]

In No Mood to Find Another

NJZ's Hanni Pham x Male Reader Smut

3,494 words

Happy Easter <3

It should be a coincidence. It needs to be.

Because if not, you’ll fall into another spiral that makes you want to recover all the photos you deleted from your gallery and strum the songs that remind you of her. Little things you keep away from you in fear that you’ll start hoping again, because hope is fucking useless and you’ve seen how this played out before.

But this is how fate shows it: you and Hanni meet again at a crappy airport in the middle of nowhere, and to your irritation, she still has the supernatural pull that makes a flickering customs light cinematic. 

And she’s not even dolled up. No makeup on her face, no contacts—just a pair of glasses and the lipbalm she swears by. God, she’s in a fucking mom cardigan and she still looks strikingly beautiful. Her eyes find yours before you can find an exit and it’s over.

“Oh,” she says, brows raised in surprise. She clearly didn’t expect to see you here. Well, she certainly didn’t expect to see you ever again.

And to be honest, neither did you. A girl like Hanni belongs on a stage, adored by millions, not here.

But things happen. Life happens and lawsuits break bonds apart and the media likes to say shit. That’s just the way things go.

She deserves better. But you deserve better, too, so you should really just go and pretend you didn’t see her. 

“Hi,” you say. There’s crowds pushing past you, security guards from all stops eyeing you snarkily for standing in the flow of passengers, but you stay still. You can’t move. You can’t speak. You just want to ask her:

“Are you okay?”

Hanni blinks at you from behind those cherry red specs. Seeing her without all the highlighter cleverly placed on her face, without the lighting of a photoshoot makes you realize how she’s still young even with everything that’s happening. Years have passed and court trials have been delayed but she’s the same, little Pham Ngoc Han you vowed to protect.

She smiles. “No,” she says, “but that doesn’t matter. Let’s get a drink.’’

-

Let’s face it: you are devastatingly in love with Hanni Pham. 

So by now, you’ve learned to see the telltale signs that point to whatever stirs in her soul. A smile that melts up into her eyes when she’s happy, the cold shoulder when she’s mad (and it’s so out of place because you can hand Hanni a microphone and she wouldn’t stop talking into it until the power goes out), and the blank look in her almond eyes when she’s sad. You thought this would change considering you haven’t caught up with her in a while, but don’t you get it? Hanni is a constant factor in your life. She’s everywhere—on your screen, in your bed, on stage. She’s sort of like the sun, see here; you wake up everyday with the knowledge that it’ll still be there in the sky above, shining brightly.

“Oh, and I forgot to ask—what brings you here?’’ Hanni claims she doesn’t want to get drunk—got in trouble for that before, she says, and you decide it’s wise to not tell her that you know. You’ve seen it blown out of proportion in K-pop tabloids and the details of the photos down to the pixel of her fingertip analyzed to death. You allow her some secrecy. God knows you’ve kept things from her, too. Thus, you agree to just one casual martini over scones.

“I’m visiting my family for Easter,” you reply. It’s, what, a few thousand for a flight to your province and twenty for the guy who still watches your hometown car. A concrete jungle can be suffocating sometimes. 

But hey, it brought you Hanni. 

“I thought you said you don’t pray anymore.” 

Hanni remembers correctly, as usual. The curious jut of her bottom lip guilts you. “Kind of, yeah. Sometimes prayers go unanswered, and sometimes I feel like I’m let down.” 

It feels blasphemous to say it on Black Saturday. But you feel that honesty with a bit of repentance was fine with the Lord. You prayed a thousand times that you’d see Hanni again. You prayed a million times that the judges in charge of her trials would see reason—recognize the fact that they were five young girls in a nightmarish position. The night sky provided no hopeful answer. 

But that’s the thing with culture, you know. You have a rosary on your rearview mirror and a cross necklace close to your heart. You stick by it because that’s just who you are. Moving to a big city doesn’t change that you’re your mother’s son.

“What about you?” you ask her. “I’ve only seen tidbits of where you are on Threads. Facebook, if I’m lucky.”

Hanni snorts unprettily, covering her mouth with her hand. “God, you’re old. You use Facebook?”

“Just to keep in contact with my parents,” you defend yourself, and add to your losing argument with “and the occasional birthday reminders!” to make Hanni laugh harder. You’ve always loved her laugh. (Okay, yes, of course you do; you’re in love with her)—but she just makes it look so charming with her nose wrinkling up and the biggest cackle unexpectedly drawing out of her small body. She makes you want to laugh, too. So you join in happily, relishing the tinkle of laughter you haven’t heard from her in so long and letting her slap your shoulder.

You wish you could freeze time. You wish she could stay happy forever and protect her from the world that moves too cunningly. You wish you could stay in this airport forever with her and have the smiles frozen on your not-quite-young-but-not-quite-mature-yet faces. You can live off the self-proclaimed Italian pizza down the hall and get drunk off soda and ridiculously expensive liquor. You can find something to wear in the high-end fashion houses near the waiting areas that nobody seriously buys from anyway. You wish you could just stay here.

But that’s not how things work. Life happens and time flies by and Hanni says she’s going to meet a guy she’s been talking to who’s apparently really interesting and sweet.

The smile disappears from your face.

“A guy?” you ask. 

Hanni gives you a weird look. “Yeah. Did you expect it to be a girl?”

“No— not that I’d mind because I’m not against it or like homophobic— but—”

“But what?” Hanni’s cheeks are red. She’s waiting for you to spit it out or she’ll make you. People underestimate what she’s capable of. She’s starting to think you’re one of them, and oh, does it break her heart.

“But why?” 

It just doesn’t make sense. It has been a while, but surely it hasn’t been that long. You’ll willingly take accountability for not texting her as long as she’ll admit you weren’t in her thoughts at all when the group took flight. And even with that aside, there was still something between you. The glint in her eyes as she thanks the people behind the scenes who supported her from trainee days to debut can’t be a reflection of the stage light. The years you spent giggling under covers, texting until dawn, and sharing boba straws can’t be all for nothing.

Hanni looks so offended she might just punch you. She leans forward to make sure she’s hearing you correctly, the kitten heel of her shoe hanging from the stool. “‘But why?’”

You draw yourself up. “Are you just gonna repeat what I’m saying and hope you make sense?”

“I don’t know. Am I?”

The reunion was going so well. It was running smoothly in spite of the distance you know you had until the topic of a mystery boy came up. Fucking immature shits, the two of you. You ruined it. No, wait a minute, she ruined it. It might be Easter in a few hours but you don’t think you can muster forgiving her.

And what did she do wrong? She’s Hanni Pham. Her name is a stand-in word for attractive. It’s not her fault that people like her. But you’re so upset that you want to ask for another shot. Then another. Then another and another until security announces your lifetime ban from this airport.

“Hanni,” you say, realizing this is the first time her name has made a crisp syllable in your mouth and now it tastes bitter, “that is such a dumb fucking decision and you know it.”

She can be very scary for a girl barely five-three. “Give me one reason why I should even listen to you.”

You don’t mean for your laugh to sound so condescending. You’ve never once talked to her like this. You knew better. “Fine. In fact, I’ll give you three.”

Hanni raises a brow while you raise a middle finger to start the list. It’s so absurd you want to crawl out of your own body and lie in a slump. Allow the doctors to trouble themselves at how gorged out you look. Let the records show that your burst heart only ever beat for her. The irony and cheesiness but the awfully true pain of it all sticks to your words. “First of all, you have a life-ruining lawsuit at your heels. It’ll leave you shit-poor in the streets eating ice cubes for dinner. It’s incredibly stupid to use whatever money you have left for a flight. In this airport of all places, too. Even the local airline charges less. Second of all, you have to focus on gathering papers and evidence because you know damn well that company has every court in Korea under their paycheck. They’re a billion-dollar conglomercy—”

“Conglomerate.”

“Whatever the fuck they are, I don’t care. It’s the same goddamn thing. God, I hate English. The point is they’re worth a billion dollars, you think they can’t bribe some corrupt senior citizen to ruin your life? You have to have a mountain of evidence even they can’t deny. And third—”

Your knuckles pale at the edge of the bar. Your voice cracks. The airport is the only place you can drink at midnight and can’t be judged for it or anything for that matter but you feel fucking stupid and humiliated and a worthless piece of shit anyway.

“A guy,” you murmur. “Hanni, really?”

Hanni goes radio silent for a while. You guess she’s used to that: not saying anything for years until Holy Week rush hours bump you into each other. You’ve got a lot of nerve, she thinks, to ruin a perfectly good thing. Each word is a bullet ridden through her already tired body. 

She raises a shaking hand to pull her glasses off. The bridge drags down a single tear. 

“You think I don’t know that?” she asks quietly. “They don’t care if Hyein’s barely eighteen or if Dani’s mum is alright. They’re heartless.”

She wonders if you think she’s gone dull. Do you still remember the books she likes to read? There’s a journal tucked in her luggage somewhere with an entry that illustrates these exact worries. 

Hanni’s voice sounds choked up. It sounds faraway, in the depths of a well, from miles a way, behind a screen. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t deserve love. I’m fucking miserable here. It’s Easter and… and you’re making it sound like it’s my fault that I want to spend it with someone who cares.”

You feel yourself tearing up, too. What was wrong with you? She doesn’t need the reminder that she’s in a tough position. You were both young and hurt. You can’t take it out on each other.

“How long have you known him anyway?” you ask even if you shouldn’t, bitterly. “I don’t think the bastard has any idea what to make of himself.”

“It’s nothing serious. We’ve been chatting for a month. He knows who I am and he doesn’t care because he wants me to be happy.”

I want you to be happy, too. Bite your tongue so it doesn’t come out. Hanni must’ve sensed what you were planning to say because she grips her shotglass tighter. 

“You never texted or called. Hell, I would’ve taken a fucking email.” She sniffles and shields her sore eyes behind her wrists. “You’ve been back in my life for less than three hours and you’re already making me cry. Is this why we broke up? Maybe. I don’t remember. I don’t want to.”

She cries quietly against the table. You sit there speechless, knowing you broke her heart as revenge for her breaking yours and realizing it wasn’t worth it. You’re selfish. You always have been. Everyone was right about you.

“I’m sorry, Hanni,” you murmur. It isn’t enough, but for now, it will do.

Hanni’s too kind, really. She reaches over to your tense hand. “It’s alright.” (It’s not.) “I’m fine.” (She’s not.) “I guess I should apologize, too. I wasn’t exactly good at the whole love stuff in the past.” 

(You had a beautiful, young thing together—you made a lot of mistakes, but that was all in the past. Nobody exactly handed out a manual on how to love someone perfectly, without a single instance of upsetting them or hurting them.

So, she was wrong. Hanni was good. She was so, so good.)

“You could always try again.”

Hanni’s sentimental smile can never not get to you. She’s so beautiful you doubt she has a full idea of how enchanting she is. 

“I can start right now.”

-

You give up the seats to your flight for an unfair price. Legally, you’d say you should have been compensated for more since it’s their fault they overbooked seats to the point of a crash risk. They’re grounds for a lawsuit. But it’ll have to do. It’s perfect, actually. A good deal pales in comparison to having Hanni on your side again. 

She wears a face mask she snatched from the airport first aid team to hide her identity. She holds your hand in the taxi to the cheapest inn you could find and kisses you before you could even get the key inside the knob.

You let her. She deserves all the love anyone has to offer her and more. You lay her on the white sheets and, as you gaze at her beautiful bare face and body, realize you would give the world to her in its entirety. All its kingdoms, all its glory.

But Hanni doesn’t need that. Those are meaningless promises and they belong to someone else. All that she needs is for you to kiss her again and do that thing with your fingers she likes.

So you do. Your middle finger strokes over her swollen clit and she gasps into the kiss. Has she any idea how sweet she sounds? She places her hand on your cheek to kiss you deeper, tongue against tongue, nose to nose. 

“You’re so fucking good at that,” she says breathily. Her head throws back into the pillows as your fingers enter her. The wetness is unimaginable. The dark lamplight blooms over the sight of her toned midriff, straining and flexing to meet your thrusts. Her walls cling to your digits desperately.

You start to think if anyone’s had her like this when things were tough between you. Her hips must have been flush against someone else’s hand, her hair a storm of black on someone else’s bed—maybe would’ve been with whoever the man courting her was. Fucking prick. But it’s foolish to let your mind wander. You literally have the Hanni Pham quivering under your touch, moaning like this and gasping like that. You have to put all of your focus on her.

And you don’t care about him, or the imaginary lover she had the other summer. She’s got you now.

You bite gently into her neck as you stroke your fingers faster. Hanni holds onto your forearm, breaths shaky but a sign to keep the pressure right there. She always whimpers before she cums. It’s cute enough to make you kiss her forehead, provocative enough to get you to take her there.

And as expected, Hanni cums on your fingers. Her nipples poke against your wandering touch. The said little whimpers she lets out break into a scream. You’ll get a noise complaint from the owner tomorrow. You’ll deal with it. He has to understand you’re making love to the girl you love to make up for all the love that was far but not lost.

“Pretty,” you tell her. Her hair smells like vanilla. 

Hanni curls her grip into the collar of your polo. She bites into your bottom lip; she missed this too much. “Inside me. Now.”

She sounds dangerously sexy outside of the studio and in this bed, whispering that you fuck her or she’ll lose it. Every part of her is begging for it. 

You don’t make her beg for it. Your belt flies across the room and onto the wooden floor. You’re rock hard from how pent up she made you. She’s more than willing to fix that.

You line up your cock with her leaking slit. She groans when your tip bumps between her lips. The mess from her previous orgasm is a pool between her legs. 

You’ll figure out how to get the stain out of the blanket tomorrow. Give Hanni what she wants and craves. You enter her swiftly, driving her up the headboard. The second thrust knocks more air out of her. Her mouth drops while her eyes connect with yours. 

“Oh. Oh fuck!” Hanni’s pussy just closes around you tighter. The claps of your flesh against hers echo in the small room. It’s so easy to give her what she wants. The familiarity of her perfect, soft body helps. But there’s also the fact that you know her so well—beyond all the easy facts, you know she likes it fast, when you stroke upwards instead of mindlessly riding her. 

You reacquaint yourself with her heat. Reach the perfect spot in the depths of her cunt. Hanni cries out, and this time, she holds onto the bed for leverage to meet your thrusts halfway. 

Her boobs bounce with the impact of every jerk you make into her. Her pretty nipple ends up between your lips. Goosebumps appear all over her chest. You suck teasingly, almost gentle which is laughable when you compare to how hard you’re pounding her. You make her impossibly tight pussy remember your girth, stretching her out like you used to. She makes it so easy for you, really. Her juices lubricate your length and allow a deliciously wet welcome, one after the other.

Hanni’s sultry whines ring in your ears. “Shit, fuck, fuck!” Her face squeezes up into a look of pure bliss. 

She blanks out. She doesn’t even hear herself scream when you fuck her into her peak. Between clenched teeth, you moan at how much tighter she feels around you. The hot throb of her pussy makes you spurt into her womb without meaning to. It would’ve been an unpleasant accident. But Hanni wraps you into her arms and doesn’t let you go. Short, impulsive thrusts end in warm cum deep in her womb. 

The sensitivity from her second orgasm causes her to shake as you thrash against her. Even as you finally go soft, your bodies stay attached to one another. You hear every delicate moan next to your ear. It’s a song she’ll only let you hear alone. 

Your hearts beat as one, a mad, thumping rhythm against your chests. There’s a lazy, tender smile on Hanni’s plump lips. It drains every fear you had about starting again.

-

The world you wake up to is new. You panic when the first few seconds of consciousness come in. But when you finally remember, the chipped yellow paint on the walls and the heels on the floor don’t look so frightening at all. 

When has the clock ever ticked this loudly? Rub the sleep out of your eyes. It reads five in the morning. It’s barely dawn, though—little rays of sunlight could hardly peek from the eastern mountains. 

And of course, she’s here. It’s strange. You woke up unfamiliar with the inn at first, but knowing she’d be here for you. She’s sort of like the sun. You don’t see her at the doorway immediately yet you know she’s always with you.

Hanni’s in a fluffy bath robe with a mug of warm coffee in her palms. “Good morning. How’s your head?”

You lift your shoulders. “Could be better.” 

“I saw a little bunny in the garden earlier. Right on Easter, too. Ya think it’s a good sign?” 

She turns her gaze to the porch. Over the beach, turquoise waves wash away the troubles in the sand. She’s smiling. The headache starts to heal itself, like all things do.

You smile. “It won’t hurt to hope.”

[neoplatinum]

between your thighs | daniela avanzini

synopsis: daniela's been patient, ever so patient with how you haven't gone down on her yet, but tonight? she's got a bet and she will win it, or so god help her.

pairing: mean sorority!daniela x loser g!p reader

tags: fluff, humor, smut, sorority!megan, g!p reader, virgin reader, minecraft hohoho, cunnilingus, fingering, cum eating, cockblock!megan, maybe more idk...

wc: 6.3k

jimmy brown - between your thighs

(part 1)

“i literally don’t get it.” daniela had her laptop open. frustration bleeding through her head. the night had started, but she was determined to end it by showing that she could beat you and with ease.

two weeks ago you had mentioned that you wanted to start a new minecraft server. something about the 2 week minecraft phase being over, blah blah. 

all daniela could see was the way your arms flexed while you loudly explained your disappointment.

and with that in mind, she was determined to get her win tonight. she had a bet and she was not going to lose. 

she had a lot on the line.

she was going to get ate out tonight if she won.

it started extremely silly, you had mentioned that going mining alone can get boring. and who better to join your world than none other than golden girl daniela avanzini. 

same girl that barely knew how to start up her laptop when she bought it straight from the store. never mind the fact that she handed over the device to you and made you set it up for her.

with a stupid smile and a pat on the knee, daniela offered a simple bet. you looked so happy to be offered a companion, only for it to quickly turn freaky-ish.

“what’s your goal for tonight?” daniela was happily munching on your cheetos, the same bag that she said she didn’t need at the campus store. you laughed and remembered to save half for her anyways. you continued to scratch your hair a bit, watching daniela sit on top of your lap.

“hm, not sure, want to definitely figure out the food situation on my base.” you reached around her, using the limited mobility you had to adjust your character on the screen. you’ve been trying to find a consistent food source, but fishing is tedious and planting crops would take a while to grow. maybe it was time to raise cattle?

“how about a bet for tonight?” daniela set down your bag of cheetos, looking at your outfit and primarily the way your arms continue to peek out of your t-shirt. tight fitted and gorgeous to grip onto. then her eyes lift to your eyes, enjoying the way you continue to squirm under her gaze. she savored the way you were always a bit antsy around her. like standing on the edge always, in a good way she would like to believe.

“what kind of bet? also can you feed me a cheeto?” you went back to playing the game, trying your best to lure a sheep with a single wheat.

“mhm, a little fun? either for you or me tonight. or maybe both of us will have some fun tonight.” daniela popped a cheeto piece into your mouth, watching you happily munch on it while moving the sheep into a pen.

“fun? i think you and me have different definitions of fun.” you give her a look, before looking back at your game and laughing at your silly character that was being pushed into the pen by a sheep. you turned your character around, when daniela took your jaw into her hands, cradling it as you turned your attention to her. slight confusion but pure cuteness making her heart burst. 

she dips her head down, pulling you into a kiss that had you brain spazzing, sparks of a broken circuit and steam rushing out your ears. 

“i think you can learn to enjoy my fun.” she gives you a light peck after that devastating kiss. all tender and airy, as if she didn’t cut off your air supply just a second ago. you barely had time to take a breath before she zeroed in on your face, lightly tracing a mole on your cheek, it was her second favorite spot to kiss you. 

“…everytime you try to pull me into something ‘fun’...it ends with me passing out and missing my morning classes.” you give out a little huff at the end.

the looks that your professors would give you, shirt half tucked, hair a mess as you entire the lecture late and apologetic. yeah your attendance was slipping.

“i never hear you complaining when we’re doing it though.” daniela pushes your head away, flicking your forehead. enjoying the way you wince a bit and rub the spot with a free hand. “but im serious about a bet.” 

“what kind of bet?” you leaned back in the chair. nearly sending both of you backwards but you caught your footing. hooking yourself back onto the ground and letting out a relieved breath when daniela hits you squarely on the arm.

“don’t scare me like that!” daniela is already irritated. her day has run long and you weren’t there to walk her back from class. you and your stupid robotics team meetings.

“sorry dani.” you give her a light peck, enough to see her cheeks turn pink. slightly bashful as she hooks her arms around your neck. almost as if she’s turned into someone else.

“i was thinking, we set a goal and…whoever wins first gets some head tonight.” daniela gave you a teasing kiss right under your ear. in that sensitive patch of skin that tingles whenever she touches it. 

you nod dumbly, enjoying how she continues to leave small kisses, enough to keep you wanting more. she pulls back, smirk and playful eyes adorning her face. she admires her handiwork, light pink lip gloss over your neck, almost wearing it like a necklace.

“sure. what goal?” you sound breathless, words spilling out like you weren’t fully there. 

“well, what’s a goal you can think of? i’m giving you home court advantage here.” she smiles, tilting her hip closer to yours. leaving no room between your lower bodies.

she was staring still, toying at the collar of your shirt. nails gliding along the edge, letting the shirt hook under her nail before snapping it back onto your skin.

you try and snap back into your brain, just enough to think of a goal. something stupid that you could win easily. your eyes drifting to her necklace, shining under the dorm lights.

“diamonds, whoever gets five first wins.” you smirk, this was a walk in the park. easy as it comes, some even claimed that you had a sixth sense for them. spotting them from across caves and tucked in corners.

with daniela’s lack of experience, you’d just bagged yourself a wonderful night to come. she gives herself a moment to think about it, but eventually nods, enjoying how she can feel the excitement from your body. energy thrumming and light tapping of your feet.

which led to now, laptops open and daniela’s at your desk, trying to find some diamonds deep within a cave. scaring herself left and right when she sees a random creature lurking in the corner of the screen.

you on the other hand, had an excellent plan. already descended down to the most opportune y-level and several pickaxes ready and loaded. you could only chuckle whenever you heard her squeal.

“absolutely not! hey, some help would be nice!” she shouts at you, annoyed that you’ve abandoned her and gome straight to mining instead.

“sorry babe, i have a bet to win.” you smirk, already gloating at the reward that would come soon enough, daniela’s still shrieking and trying to escape some mobs trying to corner her.

“just know if you win, i will bite you.” daniela drops the amusement in her tone, bone chilling sternness as you try not to imagine the sensation. 

clamping your hands over your crotch out of instinct. you push on eventually, looking for any possible openings but find none. 

daniela is instead backed into a corner, hand darting all over the mousepad, smashing the attack key as if it was her last hurrah. it ended with her falling down one poorly generated hole. she fell, tragically, nearly dying, fall damage knocking several hearts off her character.

but you were determined, you wanted to win this too, ever since daniela quite literally sucked the living soul out of you, you’d been a changed woman. thoughts of your usual hobbies and interest faded in comparison to the flashbacks of the throes of passion between you two.

so your eyes were sharp, lining up perfectly to strip mine down a block. it was your best bet than to aimlessly follow large tunnel ways. you had a stack of torches in one hand and a pickaxe in the other hand. ready for battle for what was (hopefully) the best night of your night.

“fuck!” daniela shouts at the game, being jumpscared and attacked by a spider, she shrieks a bit, trying to rush her character away from the enlarged spider.

“you okay there?” you didn’t even look up, eyes still sharp, pushing through each row of blocks like an enemy that personally did you wrong. 

“yeah, no thanks to you.” daniela rolled her eyes, contemplating how little regard you had for her the second this match started. not that she didn’t find it hot that you wanted head so badly, but also that the chivalrous side of you died in favor of the idea of sexual favors.

“my bad princess, i promise to tr(eat) you right if you do well.” you give a hearty laugh at your own joke, daniela barely cracks a smile. a slight twitch of her lip. 

“don’t make promises you can’t keep.” daniela grumbles to herself, hiding in the covers of another wall of stone. tucking her away from the mobs.

you on the other hand, were delighted, spotting diamonds at the next second. you nearly blew your cover, going quiet and fingers tapping on your mouse. putting away two diamonds into your inventory.

three more to go.

and daniela was frustrated already, wandering aimlessly now that she hid herself from that spider. she scanned top to bottom, finding lapis and random iron ore. none of which was what she needed.

you glanced at her screen, just for a peak and found no diamonds slotted into her inventory bar. giggling to yourself when she spun around, giving you a cold glare. 

you slumped inward, letting out a sheepish laugh and returning to your mining. although she could feel the smile radiating off of you, ready to gloat and tease her. she shook it off, continuing her explorations. a slight lilt of the head when she spotted something blue in the corner.

her character made a dash to the light blue ore. illuminating like the end of the tunnel and she began mining. delight filling her mind from seeing the vein of diamonds continue.

you didn’t notice any of it, too entranced by your own findings, two more diamonds under your belt. you could practically taste victory. but just as you finished mining, ready to find one more.

daniela shot out of your dorm chair. a loud squeal and her hands shoot up. she turns to you, a knowing smirk and devilish eyes. in that all too familiar stance, the cocky bratty one that she used whenever she got her way in the end.

“no fucking way.” you gasp. peaking at her computer. jumping off the bed and approaching the desk. and there it was, slot four, six diamonds in her inventory.

“yes fucking way.” daniela laughed at you, enchanted by the way you stared at her screen. like it would change the numbers if she blinked, or that you couldn’t comprehend the numbers.

“daniela…” you walked away from the computer. head in your hands as you slump into the chair.

you lost, fair and square. she managed to hit a five vein of diamonds, even an extra one just to taunt you. the exact amount needed to win this bet. and she had extra. you were so sure you were going to win.

jesus, daniela always had luck on her side. 

she cooed at you, watching the way your head hung dejectedly, as if it wasn’t attractive enough, your arms continued to flex against the tight band of your sleeves. biceps expanding in that all too delicious way that made her want to bite.

“aw its okay, you only lost by two.” she taunted you, eyes refusing to meet hers. still stunned by the sudden defeat. she simply chortled when you left out a frustrated grunt. “besides, i think it’s time you make good do on your promise.”

you wanted to say no, only because you were so confident that you would win. but instead tonight was all about her and you were nervous.

you’ve never eaten anyone out, barely knew what you were doing yourself. but besides blowjobs and a few handys here and there. the sexual favors hadn’t gone much further.

you were more than nervous, if you were a bad eater would daniela even talk to you anymore?

you grew fond of the girl’s presence, enjoyed the way she demanded your attention. she needed medicine? you’re more than willing to drive across town for that specific brand she liked. she needed to go shopping? you’d carry all her bags and listen to her whine about the piss poor customer service. she needed a makeout session? you were running and sneaking into the sorority house with minty breath and that tight compression shirt that made her salivate.

point is, you’re willing, more than willing to give this a go. but if things fall apart, and god forbid you can’t find her clit. you’d have to tuck your beanie lower and revert back to your old days. scurrying and speed walking through campus like you had debt sharks on your tail.

she lifted your jaw, the first thing you noticed were her eyes. shades darker than you were expecting, her lips slightly parted with new lip gloss applied. she was gorgeous even with the shitty old lightbulbs in your room. gorgeous with your oversized tshirt over top her body. gorgeous as she stayed in your room, wanting your attention and affection even if she wouldn’t admit it to everyone.

you let out a deep breath, confidence coming back. and with your arms tucked under her legs you hooked them at your sides. holding her up as you walked towards the bed. she let out a slight yelp at the sudden shift. you didn’t often show off your strength, letting those dormant muscles hide under large shirts. 

god she was already wet at the idea of seeing your muscles flexing.

you set her down gently. she gasps at the sudden drop, already anticipating a touch, anywhere. but you stood back up, admiring her from the edge of the bed. not close enough for a touch. it was damning and she was growing frustrated by the second.

she needed to feel you, to be reminded of the want that you’ve been developing for her. she noticed it after wearing skirts more often, gazing at her like you were staring at beauty herself. it turned her on knowing she had an effect on you. the usual aloofness was replaced with want, how your hand would hesitate when she got too close. her hip nearly like a ghost against yours, her hands dancing across the back of your neck. 

“relax soldier, this isn’t an opreration.” daniela teased you, liked how you were still teetering, between the faux confidence and the inexperienced girl that you were. it was cute, she liked that you were inexperienced, she could paint a whole canvas out of you, wanted you to learn her body, wanted to learn each crevice that made her tick.

and you were eager, pure unfiltered interest and determination. you nodded as you knelt down, head leveled to the mattress, hand just resting atop of your covers. she propped herself up, anticipating a movement. 

maybe on her calf? on the knee? her pants?

god she was nearly drooling. you were staring. straight at her legs like they would spill state secrets. scared as a cat, hair standing on the ends. and she was getting impatient, leaning forward, gripping the back of your neck, pulling your head towards her, giving you a blink before diving in. kissing you deeply, pulling you by your shirt, until you were hovering above her.

her hands were messy but her kisses even more so, dragging them across your lips messily. enjoying how out of breath you sounded when you pulled back. eyes blown and sporting a slight tent in your pants. she dived in again, moving your hand just above her waistband. 

you let yourself get pulled by the tide that was daniela avanzini. hand grabbing onto her pants, pulling it slightly. then you placed another hand on her bare thigh, warm and toned to the touch. you gripped them lightly, and daniela slipped out a moan just at the contact. it was maddening, her clothes were still on but she was so turned on. never before has she felt so lost in her sexual attraction. a light touch from someone who didn’t even know how to roll on a condom before and she was melting like a puddle in her panties.

god, you worked her up and she was excited. her head light as you continued to kiss her, each kiss more confident than the last.

a slight drag of the hand to her inner thigh, brushing the skin just at the separation of her jean shorts and her skin. tender and sensitive. you pull the jean away, exposing the lace band of her pink panties, contrasting her skin beautifully.

“daniela, my god.” you whisper against her, and forcing her head up, eyes watching your forearm flex while working against the skin of her inner thigh. 

exposed to so much lust and determination in your eyes. pupils blown and an edge to your sharp gaze, you were in just as bad, if not worse for her.

“fuck, do something, please.” she lifted a singular arm pulling at the tiny hairs on the back of your neck again, whining and begging like she was fully at your will. in a way she was, even if you weren’t aware of it yet. and then you pushed her back down, body hitting the mattress and then you leaned in close. kissing along her thigh, light and quick, too quick to map, but enough to leave her wanting more.

she could feel herself getting wetter at the anticipation, the lack of pattern in your kisses, how they always got closer to the apex of her thighs, where she truly wanted you. but not enough to give her satisfaction, that’s what had her so worked up. you teased like it was built into you when you had her in your arms. didn’t like giving her everything like the spoiled brat she was.

maybe she met someone who could finally dish out what she usually dished out without consequences. your doe eyes and a slight pout whenever daniela was too mean, oh it was too much for her beating heart. you continued to kiss, placing a kiss at her crotch, above the fabric. separated by her panties and the denim, she was getting there. the familiar clench between her legs when you kissed there another time. shifting her jean shorts, trying to tug them off.

“amor, lift your hips?” your tone was soft, lower and in that exact tone that made her knees weak. goodness, she knew that time when you called her amor and she moaned into your ear was a sign of weakness. she let you know how to unwind her with only your words, and her pants weren’t even off yet.

you quickly slid them off, tossing them behind you in one smooth motion, her hips landing back down on your mattress. she was gorgeous like this, anticipating and less bossy, you knew what calling her amor would do to her. pliant and willing, ready for any request. you went back to kissing her thighs, spreading them slowly. her cute pink panties with a slight wet patch at the center. and then you learned back on your legs, admiring how worked up she was.

“do something, please?” her tone has never been so whiny, begging and a slight tremor in her leg, then it turned into a full blown bouncing leg. awaiting your movements. you gave a tilt of the head, before lifting off your legs again, you leaned in, eyes still following hers as you gave her a kiss, just above the wet patch.

she closed her eyes at the contact, dropping her mouth slightly open. then her hand shot out, pulling the top of your head closer, fingers in your hair, and the slight pain of the pull, but you weren’t complaining. and you let out a chuckle, still nervous, but taking each movement as a sign that you were doing something right.

you leaned in, kissing along the band of her panties, making her that much more impatient. aching and desperate. you eventually pulled her panties off with a particularly rough tug. tucking the panties into your pant pocket, for safekeeping of course. and now she was exposed, center glistening and a slight sheen of sweat against her legs.

“you look like a dream, mi amor.” she gasped at your words, unexpecting and a confidence she never expected, then your hands were back on hers. gliding along the inner thigh, pushing into the skin lightly. you dove in, hesitation holding you back from completely diving in.

but then her hold on your hair tightened again, pushing your mouth fully against her mound. 

a gorgeous moan slipping from her mouth, just from the singular contact. you didn’t move, frozen in place, now that you were confronted with her against your lips. the scent of her dizzying and doing no favors to the tightness of your pants. the wetness from her landing on your mouth. 

you took a second to breath before giving an experimental swipe of your tongue, flat and wide against her mound. and she nearly tilted her hips to meet the contact. with control and the tension holding your hair and keeping her back.

she dropped her head back instead, hand relaxing a bit.

“feeling good?” you asked, experimenting with kisses along her slit, she clenched her hand in favor of a verbal response. you let out a slight giggle that costed another clench of the hair. you went right back in. using both hands to part the lips, finding her sensitive bud protruding and looking like it’s been aching.

poor clit has been so neglected. you almost cooed out loud, except that would give her another reason to yank at your hair. instead you pressed a thumb directly over the bud, placing slight pressure against it. 

and daniela lost it, a loud moan ripping through her throat before she could process it. you continued to press in, enjoying how her hand went slightly slack in your hair. she was already lost in her pleasure, you pushed your thumb around, in a small circular motion that had her reeling.

she let her hand drop back onto the bed, you replaced the thumb with your tongue, pointed and licking just at the bud. she let out even more loud moans. 

you focused again, she enjoyed this a lot clearly. you would remember this for the future. and then you moved the bud, pushing it in a circular motion against your tongue. she kept moaning, alternating between mewls and sharp gasps as well. you continued, flattening the tongue against her needy clit. lapping at it slowly, until you gained your pace, the kind that had her legs wanting to lift off the bed. you pushed them down, keeping her thigh in place.

“keep still.” she didn’t know where you got the confidence from, thirty minutes ago you were sweating at the idea of touching her but now, you were owning this performance. you continued to lap against her clit, then grabbing a finger and gathering her juices to coat your fingers, and she lifted her head, at the sudden feeling of your fingers against her hole.

“can i?” you ask her, eyes nearly glazed over, mouth wet with her drippings and the most gorgeous face that she’s ever seen. and then you gave a relaxed smirk, enjoying how you’ve nearly rendered her speechless. resorting to nods and hair grabs instead of letting off one-liners. 

you went back to lapping and then sucking on the bud, before slowly dipping the finger into her. she tensed up immediately, the sensation bringing her immediate pressure inside, she dropped onto the bed again, hip slightly lifted off, you pushed in further, the warmth and pressure from her walls keeping your finger in position. you continued to work her further, lapping and spreading her hips wider. then your finger slipped all the way in. you gave your finger a slight curl, pushing up against the front walls of her pussy.

she let out loud moans, amazed at how good it felt, then you let your fingers slide against the front wall in a tantalizing speed, slow but pushing against every ridge. pushing back in with your mouth still on her clit. letting out kitten licks every so often. then you took your mouth off her, instead focusing on fingering her. pushing in and out quicker, and her hand shot right back onto your hair. yanking it slightly, your head tilted up. watching her writhe under your touch. you gave yourself a little wiggle room, enjoying how she tried clamping her legs together, trying to lock you in place. 

you let out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying how far you were inside of her. fingers reaching places that she didn’t even know existed, a slight nudge at the back, until you pulled out. your finger out of her hole and now she was shaking her head. annoyed and confused with the lack of contact. an emptiness in her that she needed to be filled soon.

“baby, please, go back in.” she whined, pulling at your hair and shaking, almost tearing up at the sudden lose. and you gave her a chaste kiss, dipping down, clothed crotch accidentally making contact with her exposed center. she whined at the sudden contact, almost like it saved her from her falling.

you instead, pried her mouth slightly open, letting it hang open before dipping your finger onto her tongue, a slight pressure that she instantly took. sucking on it like she did with your dick many times before.

“taste yourself amor, sweet as nectar.” you let out in a sultry tone, one that had her clenching around nothing, a slight ache in her jaw and pussy. you then took them out of her mouth, replacing yourself with your tongue, invading her space, tongues moving around in a messy dance.

she was blissed out, legs moving, squeezing together for some comfort, instead you pushed her open and in a swift motion, entered her with two fingers this time. pushed just up against her cervix. filling her and having her gasp audibly. mouth open as you dipped in, continuing to kiss her in a frenzy. sloppy and messy kisses that had her breathless.

you plunged the fingers in and out of her, and she let out moans in between kisses. one hand on the back off your head, playing with the hairs. eyes shut as she let herself just feel, every single touch, every single movement, how you continued to swirl your tongue with hers. fingers pistoning in and out of her at a quick speed. her stomach coiling and building into an explosive climax. she let herself get covered in your senses.

she could hear your mouth against her, loud and lewd. the slight squelching of wetness against your fingers, the way your necklace kept hitting your skin in a dull thud, the feeling of pulling your hair like an anchor. 

she whined loudly, a sharp and high pitched whine and then she legs started shaking, involuntarily shaking and she detached from your mouth, head dropping onto the bed again, you watched her, head lolling side to side, still plunging in and out.

you kept the speed, the slight rock in your hand. dropping back onto your knees, a hand on her hip as you dove back down. back to lapping at her clit. flattening your tongue as you pushed against it, and then she started spasming, against your hand as your tongue. 

full body, rocking against you, but you didn’t let up, you could tell she was about to let go, her hand dug nails into your skin, her head kept moving, body in full bliss, and then she did. came against your fingers, the climax hitting her like the top of a rollercoaster, fast and wild.

she trashed against your body, trying her best to not squeeze the life out of you, but she kept shaking. a loud pitched scream reverberating against the dorm walls. squeezing your arm to death. you felt the wetness hit your fingers.

she looked like a vision under you, hair a mess, sweat all over, and holding onto you like an anchor. she continued to ride out her orgasm, and you just stared, fingers still inside of her. and her sceam subsiding into loud moans, heavy breaths and her eyes flew open. a lazy grin across her face, staring at you the best she could.

you leaned forward, face to face, enjoying how fucked out she looked. all your handiwork, and then she pulled you into a kiss. soft and tender like it meant something, like she wanted to express an emotion you weren’t sure of. 

you gave it no thought when she pulled you in deeper, hooking your neck closer with her arm.

“mi amor, i do good on my promise?” you ask, but you already knew the answer. a cheekiness from your work making you bold and confident. not in that poorly constructed boy-ish way, but the way you just solidified yourself as the best sex she’s ever had and still wanted to keep her close.

“too good, that was out of this world.” daniela laughs, pulling at your fingers, and then you slowly took them out. wet and soaking from her release, and then in a sudden twist you sucked them off. cleaning off the juices like it was your food. daniela’s jaw hung open, watching you suck your fingers that had her feeling ready to go all over again. not even half recovered from her mind blowing orgasm.

you leaned back, giggling at her open mouth, you dipped down kissing her again, letting her taste herself again. she was ready to smash her lips against you again when your phone suddenly rang on the bedside table. a slight vibration hitting the wood.

“leave it, keep kissing me.” daniela pulled you back when you leaned over to check who it was. enjoying the sensation of your body pressed against hers, kissing her languidly, still buzzing from the come down. her body twitching every so often. your phone went quiet again. then it buzzed again, the familiar ringtone echoing in your room.

you pulled away, already making daniela upset, who could possibly have your attention right now?

“one second, i promise.” you glance at your phone, the familiar contact name on the screen. “shit.”

“who is it?” daniela sat up with what strength she could muster, suddenly remembering that she was indeed sneaking around with megan’s sister. she leaned forward, crossing her arms as she watched you go from anticipation, to suddenly panicked. pushing daniela’s things underneath your bed, tossing daniela’s shorts into your open closet.

you then placed a finger over your mouth, grabbing daniela’s wrist. pushing her into the closet. and begging her with your eyes to stay silent. at this point daniela was getting frustrated, her eyes wide and worried until she heard you speak.

“of course megs, just one second.” then you hung up the phone. frantically trying to make sure everything daniela had was tucked away. you slipped her laptop into her bookbag. and then you turned to the girl now frantically watching you in the closet.

“meg’s coming over, something about a failed physics exam. please stay in here, i’ll try to get us to go somewhere then you can leave. i’m so sorry dani.” and without another word you closed the closet door, giving yourself a once over, and walking towards the door, ready to open it when you noticed your unsightly tent. you took a second to adjust before taking a deep breath and opening the door to your sobbing sister. eyes puffy and in her signature hoodie that she wore when she was sad.

“hey megs, come in.” you gestured her inside, taking a quick glance to the closet, hoping that daniela would stay silent. you cleared your throat before approaching your sobbing sister. still distraught and clearly sobbing into the sleeves of her hoodie.

“that stupid professor, he keeps putting things on the practice exam that isn’t on the exam. and like the idiot i am, i only planned on doing the practice exams he released.” you placed a hesitant hand on her back, giving slight pats and listening to her solemnly.

“and then! the TA, he keeps being an ass, docking points for missing units. fuck i’m so over university.” megan continued to wail and you gave her a weak nod, trying to focus on your crying sister and not the potentially very mad daniela standing in your closet with her pants off.

and your guess was right, daniela was stewing in her anger, she had just gone from the best head of her life to now being shoved into the small closet, cramped and t-shirts pressing against her shoulder.

but daniela? she was angry at megan, she could care less about that stupid physics exam. everyone failed that one, it doesn’t matter, everyone knows he’ll curve their grades by the end of the semester. so she was mad, mad at megan, mad at that physics professor, and more so mad that she couldn’t be mad at you. 

daniela rolled her eyes hard, everytime megan let out another sniffle. until she heard something that perked up her ears.

“megs, you know what’ll cheer you up?” you asked cautiously, a slight amused tone as you looked at your sobbing mess of a sister.

“what?” megan let out a heaved cry, already making a mountain of used tissues on your dorm floor. 

“ice cream.” you said confidently, watching the light come back to her eyes, and then you guided her out of your dorm. still listening intently to her crying her eyes out, but with less of a heavy weight on her chest. but then megan said something that nearly made your spine drop out your body.

“hey, those are nice shoes, didn’t know you were a sneakerhead.” megan was still sniffling, eyeing the pair of shoes tucked next to yours, the same pair that daniela took off when she entered.

fuck.

“yeah, hah, they looked nice.” you scratched the back of your head, shaken by the observation. megan gave a solemn nod, probably still thinking about her failed exam when she made a one-off comment.

“yeah, dani has a pair too.” then megan walked out, completely unaware of your panic. you snapped yourself back, worry in your eyes but megan only had ice cream on her mind. you quickly closed the door and changed the topic to what flavor she would like.

and for a couple seconds, daniela couldn’t breathe. her panic growing when megan mentioned the shoes, the same ones that megan saw in their sorority house. and she waited, a whole five minutes before quickly grabbing her things, sliding on her pants, wearing her backpack and shoes. speeding out of the dorm, moving hastily across campus to the sorority house. head down and fast paced even if people were trying to wave and say hi to her. she sped past them, heart hammering in her chest and an undercurrent of thoughts about megan finding out swirling in her mind.

“fuck.” daniela groaned to herself once she got herself settled in her room, bookbag on the floor and still wearing her outfit. the night both went and didn’t go how daniela wanted. jumping from having one of the most mind blowing orgasms of her life to being shoved into a closet to avoid being found out had her on high alert the whole night.

your text came in seconds later.

cariña [11:02pm]: i’m so sorry about tonight.

cariña [11:02pm]: i didn’t want to kick you out :(

cariña [11:03pm]: please believe me

daniela watched the texts appear on screen, her frown appearing again, but she knew it wasn’t your fault. megan needed a shoulder to cry on, and you were her sister. didn’t make her happy about it though.

daniela [11:04pm]: it’s okay, is she feeling better?

daniela bit her fingernail, watching the text bubble float on the screen, waiting as you typed out your message. she shifted herself on the bed, turning to one side.

cariña [11:05pm]: she’s doing okay now. said she wants a movie marathon.

cariña [11:05pm]: how are you doing? i wanted to ask but then we got interrupted. :(

daniela thought about it, she could still faintly feel the sensation of you inside of her, the hot kisses and the embarrassing loud scream she let out when she came. all of which were from your doing.

daniela [11:06pm]: i’m upset, but i understand. i’m glad megan’s doing okay, still wished you gave me another orgasm tho.

and then another text came in.

cariña [11:06pm]: you can’t mention my sister and orgasm in the same sentence, ever. please….

cariña [11:07pm]: but let me make it up to you? dinner date and i promise i’ll give you three after. pretty please <3

daniela giggled and laughed at the first message. watching your text bubble disappear. then daniela gave her response.

daniela [11:08pm]: lol okay

daniela [11:08pm]: 3, and no less….

daniela waited a bit, not seeing your text bubbles until she was scrolling on her phone mindlessly. she was happy overall, you managed to deliver the performance of a lifetime. especially given that you'd never done this before, and she was giddy. excited at the prospect of three orgasms soon.

cariña [11:12pm]: sorry megan wanted popcorn…

cariña [11:12pm]: 3. i swear on it.

--

a/n: sorry for this taking so long, i had the worst writing slump ever, but trust i will continue to deliver. hope people are still interested in this storyline, i might write another part if you all are interested. stay safe and stay healthy everyone!

[kole-cooler]

Lips of Ashes

Ning Yizhuo x m!reader

15K words

You're staring at the email notification on your phone screen.

Meeting request from Ning Yizhuo - Today 4:00 PM - URGENT.

Yeah, you knew this was coming. Ever since the board announced her appointment three months ago, you've been waiting for the other shoe to drop. And here you are: about to walk into what's probably going to be the most uncomfortable conversation of your professional life.

Fun times ahead, right?

The elevator ride to the top floor feels like ascending to your own execution. The numbers tick by - 47, 48, 49, 50 - each floor bringing you closer to her domain. You adjust your tie, check your reflection in the polished steel doors. You look good, you always do. It's one of your strengths, that effortless confidence that got you where you are today. No silver spoons in your mouth, just hard work and natural charm.

The executive floor is all marble and glass, the kind of ostentatious display of wealth that screams "old money." Which is exactly what Ning is - third generation chaebol princess who never had to struggle for anything in her life. Well, almost anything.

Her secretary, a nervous-looking woman in her fifties, barely makes eye contact as she gestures toward the massive oak doors. "She's waiting for you."

Of course she is.

She had been gone all this time, and yet she was never far. Tied up in another corner of her family’s empire, keeping busy, keeping away. But you knew the safety you felt was an illusion - a brittle calm, like standing on the shore while, just beyond the horizon, warships gather under a foreign flag, already cutting through the waves, already coming for you. It would be poetic in a book, but in real life it's fucking scary.

You push open the doors and there she is, exactly as you remember but somehow more. Ning Yizhuo sits behind a desk that probably costs more than most people's cars, and damn if she hasn't grown into herself since college. Her long black hair falls in perfect waves past her shoulders, framing a face that could launch a thousand corporate takeovers. Those same dark feline eyes that used to follow you around campus, but now they hold something sharper.

She's wearing a tailored black blazer that hugs her petite frame perfectly, the kind of designer piece that costs more than your monthly salary. Underneath, a silk blouse in cream that contrasts beautifully with her porcelain skin. Her legs are crossed elegantly, one foot bouncing slightly in what you recognize as barely contained energy. Everything about her screams success, power, control.

And yeah, she's gorgeous. She always was. That was never the problem.

"Close the door," she says without looking up from whatever document she's pretending to read. Her voice has matured since college, gained an edge of authority that comes with having people jump at your every word.

You do as she asks because, well, she's your boss now. Funny how life works out, isn't it? You, the scholarship kid who worked three jobs to pay for textbooks, now answering to the girl who used to have her assignments written by tutors.

"Sit."

Again, you comply, settling into one of the leather chairs across from her desk. The office is enormous, floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city skyline. Her desk is positioned so she looks down at visitors, a subtle power play that would be impressive if it weren't so obvious.

Finally, she looks up, and those dark eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that makes your skin prickle. There's something predatory in her gaze, something that sets every instinct you have on high alert.

"Hello, stranger," she says, and her lips curve into a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "It's been a while."

"Ning." You keep your voice level, professional. "Congratulations on the promotion."

She laughs. "Promotion? Is that what you think this is?" She stands, moving around the desk with the fluid grace of someone who's never doubted their place in the world. "I didn't get promoted. I inherited an empire."

And there it is, the same entitled attitude that made you walk away all those years ago. Some things never change, do they?

"Right," you say carefully. "Well, congratulations on your inheritance, then."

She perches on the edge of her desk, one leg swinging slightly. The movement draws your attention to her legs, and you're annoyed at yourself for noticing how the black stockings hug her thighs. Focus , you tell yourself. This is business.

Except you know it's not. Not really.

"You know," she says, examining her perfectly manicured nails, "I've been going through personnel files lately. Getting to know my... employees." The way she says the word makes it sound dirty somehow. "And I came across some interesting information about you."

Your stomach drops, but you keep your expression neutral. You've been in corporate long enough to know that showing weakness is blood in the water.

"Such as?"

"The Givens account." She tilts her head, studying your reaction. "You remember the Givens account, don't you? The one where you maybe, possibly, bent a few rules to close the deal?"

Shit. You'd hoped that particular gray area would stay buried. It wasn't illegal, exactly, but it wasn't entirely above board either. The kind of thing that happens in the real world but looks bad on paper.

"I closed that account," you say evenly. "Brought in fifteen million in revenue."

"By falsifying the timeline in your reports." She slides off the desk, moving closer. "By backdating documents to make it look like you'd disclosed certain risks earlier than you actually did."

Your jaw tightens. "The client got what they paid for. More than what they paid for."

"Oh, I'm not questioning your results." She's standing right in front of you now, close enough that you can smell her perfume - smells like danger by the way. "I'm questioning your methods. And wondering what the regulatory board would think if they saw the real timeline."

There it is. The threat, delivered with the same sweet smile she used to give professors when she wanted extensions on assignments she'd never actually started.

"What do you want, Ning?"

She laughs again, delighted by your directness. "Straight to the point. I always liked that about you." She moves behind your chair, her hands coming to rest on the back of it. You can feel her presence like heat against your shoulders.

"You know what's funny?" she continues. "Everyone told me I should fire you the moment I took over. 'He's too ambitious,' they said. 'Too independent. Too... difficult to control.'"

Her fingers trail along the leather of the chair, just barely not touching you.

"But I said no. I said, 'I want to give him a chance.' Because we have history, don't we? We understand each other."

You turn in the chair to look at her, and immediately regret it. She's leaning over you slightly, her face inches from yours, and suddenly you're transported back to that night six years ago. The party at her sorority house, her confession in the garden, the way her face crumpled when you turned her down.

You'd been kind about it, or at least you'd tried to be. Explained that you didn't want to complicate things, that you valued her friendship too much to risk it. All the polite lies people tell when they mean "I'm not interested."

The truth was simpler and crueler: you knew exactly what she was. Spoiled, entitled, used to getting everything handed to her on a silver platter. Dating her would have been career suicide - either you'd be seen as her boy toy, or you'd spend your whole life being compared to her family's wealth and influence.

So you'd said no, and she'd never forgiven you for it.

"We do have history," you agree carefully. "But that was a long time ago."

"Was it?" She moves away, returning to her position behind the desk. The loss of her proximity is both a relief and, annoyingly, a disappointment. "Because from where I'm sitting, it feels very present."

She opens a drawer and pulls out a file folder, thick with documents. Your name is written on the tab in neat handwriting.

"four years with the company," she reads aloud. "Consistent top performer. Respect of your colleagues. A real success story." She looks up. "The American dream in action, right? Poor boy makes good through hard work and determination."

There's something mocking in her tone that makes your hands clench.

"It would be such a shame if it all came crashing down because of one little... indiscretion."

You know what she's doing - the carrot and the stick, the promise and the threat. Corporate manipulation 101, except this feels personal in a way that makes your skin crawl.

"So what's the deal?" you ask finally. "What do you want from me?"

Her smile returns, wider this time, predatory. "I want what I've always wanted." She stands again, smoothing down her skirt. "I want you."

You stare at her, trying to process what she's actually suggesting.

"Ning—"

"No, let me finish." She holds up a hand. "I've thought about this for years. Six years, to be exact. Every success, every achievement, every step up the ladder, I've wondered what it would be like if you were there with me."

She starts walking again, this time moving to the window. The late afternoon sun backlights her figure, turning her into a silhouette against the glass.

"Do you know what it's like," she continues, "to have everything you could possibly want except the one thing that matters? To have power and money and influence, but to lie awake at night thinking about someone who rejected you?"

There's genuine pain in her voice, and for a moment you almost feel sorry for her. Almost. 

"That's not my fault," you say quietly.

She spins around, and the vulnerable moment is gone. "Isn't it? You knew how I felt. You knew, and you walked away like it meant nothing."

"It wasn't nothing. But it wasn't enough."

"Because I wasn't enough. The poor little rich girl, right? Too spoiled, too entitled, too much baggage to be worth your time."

She's closer now, having crossed the room while you were distracted by the pain in her words. Close enough that you can see the flecks of gold in her dark eyes, the slight tremble in her hands that she's trying to hide.

"That's not what I thought."

"No? Then what did you think?" She's standing right in front of your chair again, looking down at you with an expression caught between anger and something that might be hope.

You consider lying, coming up with some comfortable excuse that might make this easier for both of you. But something about the way she's looking at you, the genuine hurt beneath all the posturing, makes you tell the truth instead.

"I thought you were dangerous," you say simply.

She blinks, clearly not expecting that answer. "Dangerous?"

"Not in a bad way. Dangerous like... like standing too close to the sun. You were this brilliant, beautiful, powerful thing, and I was just some nobody from nowhere trying to make something of himself. Getting involved with you would have meant getting pulled into your world, and I wasn't strong enough for that. I would have lost myself."

The silence that follows is deafening. She stares at you, processing your words, and you can see the exact moment when understanding clicks into place.

"And now?" she asks quietly.

"Now what?"

"Are you strong enough now?"

It's a loaded question, and you both know it. She's not just asking about your emotional fortitude - she's asking if you're ready to be hers, to accept whatever terms she's about to offer.

You lean back in the chair, studying her face. She's older now, more self-assured, but underneath it all you can still see traces of the girl who used to follow you around campus with hopeful eyes. The girl who wore her heart on her sleeve until you taught her to hide it.

"That depends," you say finally, "on what you're asking."

"I'm asking for everything."

She moves to the side of her desk, pressing a button on her phone. "Lisa, hold all my calls. I don't want to be disturbed for the rest of the afternoon. And I don't want anyone, I repeat, absolutely anyone, to come to my office, understand?”

The speaker crackles as her assistant responds: "Yes, Ms. Yizhuo."

Then she's walking toward you again, and there's something different about her movement now. More purposeful. More predatory.

"You want to know what I'm asking for?" she says, stopping just out of arm's reach. "I'm asking for you to finally admit what we both know."

"Which is?"

"That you've thought about it too. About me. About what would have happened if you'd said yes that night."

She's not wrong, and you hate her for knowing it. Because yes, you have thought about it. More than you care to admit. There were nights, especially after particularly brutal days at the office, when you'd wonder what life would have been like if you'd taken the easy path. If you'd let yourself be swept up in the Ning Yizhuo hurricane and damn the consequences.

"Maybe," you admit.

"Maybe?" She laughs, but there's no humor in it. "You're still playing it safe. Still calculating the risks and benefits like this is some kind of business transaction."

She moves closer, and now she's standing between your legs, her hands resting on the arms of your chair. The position is intimate, threatening, and electric all at once.

"But it's not a transaction anymore," she continues. "It's an ultimatum."

Your heart is pounding now, though you're not sure if it's from fear or something else entirely. "And if I refuse?"

"You won't."

The certainty in her voice should be infuriating, but instead it sends a thrill down your spine. Because she's right, isn't she? You both know how this is going to end. The only question is whether you're going to make her work for it.

"You seem pretty confident about that."

"I am." She leans down, bringing her face level with yours. "Because I know you. I know that underneath all that professional restraint and careful calculation, you're still the same person who used to look at me like you wanted to devour me whole."

Her breath is warm against your cheek, and you can feel your resolve starting to crumble. It's been six years since anyone has looked at you the way she's looking at you now - like you're something precious and dangerous and absolutely necessary.

"Ning..."

"Say it," she whispers. "Say you want me."

For a moment, you're transported back to college. To late nights in the library when she'd find excuses to study near you. To parties where she'd gravitate to your side like a satellite to its planet. To that night in the garden when she'd been brave enough to say what you'd both been dancing around for months.

You'd wanted her then. God help you, you want her now.

"This is insane," you breathe.

"Probably." She's so close now that her lips almost brush yours when she speaks. "But you're going to do it anyway, aren't you?"

The question hangs between you like a dare. You can feel the weight of it, the implications of what she's asking. Once you cross this line, there's no going back. Your career, your carefully constructed independence, everything you've worked for - it all becomes subject to her whims.

But maybe that's not entirely a bad thing. Maybe you're tired of being in control all the time. Maybe the idea of surrendering to someone else, to her, is more appealing than you want to admit.

"The Givens account," you say, grasping for one last bit of leverage. "If I do this, that disappears."

She smiles, victorious. "Consider it handled."

"And my position in the company remains secure."

"You'll be more than secure. You'll be untouchable." Her hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing across your skin. "You'll be mine."

The possessiveness in her voice should alarm you. Instead, it sends heat pooling low in your stomach. Because there's something incredibly seductive about being wanted this much, about being the one thing that Ning Yizhuo - who has everything - can't quite possess.

Until now.

"Okay," you whisper.

The word is barely audible, but she hears it. Her eyes light up with triumph and something darker, hungrier. For a moment, she just stares at you like she can't quite believe you've finally said yes.

Then she's kissing you.

It's not gentle or tentative like you might expect from someone who's been waiting six years for this moment. It's demanding, aggressive, years of frustrated want poured into the connection between your lips. Her fingers tangle in your hair, holding you in place as she claims your mouth with a desperation that takes your breath away.

You can taste her lipstick, something subtle and expensive that probably costs more than most people spend on groceries. Can feel the way she's trembling slightly despite her outward confidence. This moment means everything to her, you realize. Everything.

When she finally pulls away, you're both breathing hard. Her lipstick is smudged, and there's a wild look in her eyes that makes your pulse race.

"Six years," she says, almost to herself. "Six fucking years I've been waiting for that."

She steps back, and immediately you miss the warmth of her proximity. But the distance gives you a chance to really look at her - at the flush on her cheeks, the way her chest rises and falls with rapid breaths, the satisfied smile playing at her lips.

"You know," she continues, smoothing down her blazer, "I used to fantasize about this moment. About having you here, in my office, completely at my mercy." She walks back around to her side of the desk, but instead of sitting down, she leans against it. "The reality is so much better than I imagined."

There's something about the way she's looking at you that makes you feel exposed, like she can see right through all your carefully constructed defenses. It's unsettling and thrilling in equal measure.

"So what happens now?" you ask.

"Now?" She tilts her head, considering. "Now we establish some ground rules."

Oh, here we go. You should have known it wouldn't be that simple with her. Nothing ever is.

"Such as?"

"Such as, you don't see anyone else. Male or female. I don't care how casual you think it is - from now on, you're exclusively mine."

The possessiveness in her voice makes something twist in your chest. It should bother you, this assumption that she can just claim ownership over your personal life. Instead, you find yourself nodding.

"Okay."

"And you make time for me. Real time, not just these little stolen moments between meetings. I want dinners, I want weekends, I want you to be present in my life in a way that matters."

Again, you nod. It's not like you have much of a social life anyway - you've been so focused on your career that dating has taken a backseat to advancement. Maybe it would be nice to have someone demand your attention for once.

"And," she continues, her voice dropping to that dangerous whisper again, "when I call, you answer. When I want you here, you come. When I need you..." She trails off, but the implication is clear.

"Understood."

She pushes off from the desk, moving toward you with that same predatory grace. "Good. I'm so glad we understand each other."

When she reaches your chair, she doesn't stop. Instead, she swings one leg over your thighs, settling into your lap with a confidence that takes your breath away. The movement makes her skirt ride up slightly, and you can see the lace edge of her stockings against pale skin.

"Ning," you start, but she silences you with a finger pressed to your lips.

"Shh. We're done talking for now."

Her other hand slides down your chest, fingers playing with the buttons of your shirt. She's so close that you can count her eyelashes, can see the faint freckles across her nose that makeup can't quite hide.

"Do you know how many times I've thought about this?" she murmurs, working open the top button of your shirt. "How many nights I've laid in bed imagining what it would feel like to finally have you like this?"

Your hands come up to rest on her hips automatically, and she smiles at the contact. Her skin is warm through the fabric of her skirt, and you can feel the subtle flex of muscle as she adjusts her position in your lap.

"Too many," she continues, moving to the second button. "Far too many for someone who's supposed to be a respectable CEO."

The way she says it makes you laugh despite yourself. "And what does a respectable CEO do when she finally gets what she wants?"

Her smile turns wicked. "Whatever the hell she pleases."

The third button comes undone, then the fourth. Her fingers are cool against your chest as she spreads the fabric apart, nails scraping lightly across your skin. The sensation makes you shiver, and she notices immediately.

"Sensitive," she observes with satisfaction. "I like that."

She leans forward, pressing her lips to the column of your throat. The contact is electric, sending sparks racing through your nervous system. Her mouth is warm and soft, and when she opens it to taste your skin, you can't suppress the groan that escapes.

"That's it," she whispers against your neck. "Let me hear you."

Her teeth graze your pulse point, and your hands tighten on her hips involuntarily. She makes a pleased sound at the reaction, her own hips rocking slightly in your lap. The movement creates a friction that makes thinking difficult.

"Ning," you breathe, not sure if you're protesting or encouraging.

"I love the way you say my name," she replies, pulling back to look at you. Her eyes are dark with want, pupils dilated. "Say it again."

"Ning."

She rewards you with another kiss, this one slower but no less intense. Her tongue traces the seam of your lips before delving inside, and you can taste the desperation beneath her confidence. This isn't just about power or revenge - this is about want, pure and simple. Six years of accumulated desire finally being given an outlet.

When she breaks the kiss, she rests her forehead against yours, both of you breathing hard.

"I need you to understand something," she says quietly. "This isn't just about getting you into bed. This isn't some kind of conquest or corporate power play."

She pauses, and for a moment she looks almost vulnerable.

"This is about the fact that I've been in love with you since I was twenty years old, and I never got over it. Not through college, not through business school, not through all the years of building this company and dating other people and trying to convince myself that what I felt for you was just some kind of phase."

"I never knew," you say softly.

"Of course you didn't. I made sure of that." She sits back slightly, her hands still resting on your chest. "After you rejected me, I decided I would never be that vulnerable again. Never put myself out there like that and risk being dismissed as just some spoiled little rich girl with a crush."

"I'm sorry," you tell her, and you mean it. "I never meant to hurt you."

"I know." She traces patterns on your chest with her fingertip, not quite meeting your eyes. "But you did anyway. And now... now I finally have a chance to fix it."

"Is that what this is? Fixing things?"

"I hope so. I really hope so."

The moment stretches between you, fragile and precious. Then she's kissing you again, and this time it's different. Less desperate, more tender. Like she's trying to communicate everything she can't say out loud through the contact of her lips against yours.

Your hands slide up from her hips to her waist, feeling the curve of her body through the silk of her blouse. She's smaller than you remembered, more delicate, but there's strength in the way she holds herself that speaks to the years of building her own empire.

"Touch me," she whispers against your mouth, and the request sends heat racing through your veins.

Your hands move higher, skimming over her ribs to cup her breasts through the thin fabric. She arches into the contact with a soft gasp that makes something primal stir in your chest. Her body is perfect - soft curves and warm skin that fits perfectly in your palms.

"Like that," she breathes, her head falling back as you massage gently. "God, yes, like that."

The blazer is in the way, so you start working at the buttons with slightly unsteady fingers. She helps, shrugging out of the jacket and letting it fall to the floor behind the chair. Underneath, the silk blouse clings to her curves, and you can see the outline of lace beneath the fabric.

"You're beautiful," you tell her.

She smiles, but there's something almost shy about it. "You don't have to say that."

"I'm not saying it because I have to. I'm saying it because it's true."

The blouse has tiny pearl buttons that require patience to undo. She watches your face as you work, biting her lower lip in a way that makes you want to kiss her again. When you finally get the fabric open, revealing the delicate lace bra beneath, she inhales sharply.

"Beautiful," you repeat, and this time when you say it, she believes you.

The bra is pale pink lace, almost virginal except for the way it showcases her breasts. Your fingers trace the edge of the cups, making her shiver, before you lean down to press your lips to the swell of her cleavage.

"Oh," she gasps, her fingers tangling in your hair. "Oh, that's..."

You don't let her finish the thought, too busy exploring the newly revealed skin with your mouth. She tastes like expensive soap and something uniquely her, a flavor you know you'll crave long after this moment ends.

Her breathing becomes more ragged as you work your way across her collarbone, finding the sensitive spot where her neck meets her shoulder. When you bite down gently, she actually whimpers, the sound going straight to your cock.

"We should..." she starts, then loses the thread when you suck a mark into her skin. "We should probably..."

"Probably what?" you ask against her throat.

"Go somewhere more private. Someone could walk in here at any moment. I asked not to be disturbed, but some people here are incredibly stubborn, you know."

She's right, of course. The thought of being caught like this - you with your shirt open and her half-undressed in your lap - should be sobering.

Instead, it's incredibly arousing.

"Let them look," you murmur, and she makes a sound that's half protest, half moan.

"You're terrible," she breathes, but she's rocking against you again, creating a friction that makes clear thinking impossible.

"You started this," you remind her, hands sliding down to grip her thighs. "In your office, in the middle of the day, where anyone could walk in."

"That's different. I'm the CEO. I can do whatever I want."

"And what do you want?"

She looks at you for a long moment, her eyes dark and hungry. "I want you to fuck me on my desk like you've been thinking about for the past six years."

The crude words send a jolt of pure lust through you. This is Ning Yizhuo, ice princess of the corporate world, talking dirty in a way that makes your head spin.

"Have I been thinking about that?" you ask, playing along.

"Haven't you?" She climbs off your lap, moving to stand between your legs. "Haven't you wondered what I'd look like spread out for you? What I'd sound like when you made me come?"

Christ. The image she's painting is vivid and immediate and makes your cock throb against the confines of your pants. You can see it so clearly - her pale skin against the dark wood of her desk, her legs wrapped around your waist as you drive into her.

"Maybe," you admit roughly.

She smiles, satisfied by your reaction. "I thought so."

Then she's stepping back, putting distance between you that feels like a loss. But before you can protest, she starts moving toward her desk with that same predatory grace, and you realize she's giving you a show.

Her hands go to the zipper at the side of her skirt, and she draws it down slowly, holding your gaze the entire time. The fabric falls to pool around her feet, revealing long legs encased in sheer black stockings held up by a garter belt that matches her bra.

"Fuck," you breathe, because you're only human and the sight of Ning Yizhuo in lingerie is enough to short-circuit your brain.

She steps out of the skirt, kicking it aside with one designer heel. Now she's standing there in just her blouse, bra, panties, garter belt, stockings, and heels - a vision that belongs in every executive's fantasy.

"Like what you see?" she asks, though your expression probably makes the answer obvious.

"Come here," you growl, but she shakes her head.

"Not yet. I want you to look at me. Really look." She turns slowly, giving you a view of her from every angle. "I want you to see what you turned down all those years ago."

The panties are the same pale pink as her bra, a small triangle of lace that leaves very little to the imagination. Her ass is perfect, tight, firm and round in a way that makes your hands itch to touch. The stockings make her legs look endless, and the heels add just enough height to make her movements impossibly graceful.

When she completes the turn, facing you again, there's triumph in her expression. She knows exactly what she's doing to you, and she's enjoying every second of it.

"Now," she says, perching on the edge of her desk, "come here."

This time you obey, standing on unsteady legs and crossing the space between you. When you reach her, she spreads her legs slightly, making room for you to stand between them. The position puts you at eye level with her breasts, and you take a moment to appreciate the view.

"Touch me," she commands softly, and you don't need to be told twice.

Your hands go to her waist, spanning the narrow space between her ribs and hips. Her skin is warm silk under your palms, and when you slide them up to cup her breasts again, she arches into the contact with a soft moan.

The bra has a front clasp, you discover, and it takes only a moment to flick it open. The lace falls away, revealing perfect breasts topped with dusky pink nipples that are already hard with arousal.

"Perfect," you murmur, and then you're lowering your head to take one peaked nipple into your mouth.

She cries out, her hands flying to grip your shoulders. Her nipple is sensitive, you discover, responding immediately to the stroke of your tongue. When you suck gently, her entire body trembles.

"Yes," she gasps, "oh god, yes, just like that."

You lavish attention on first one breast, then the other, taking your time to learn what makes her moan, what makes her arch against you, what makes her fingers dig into your shoulders hard enough to leave marks.

She's responsive in a way that makes you want to explore every inch of her, to catalog every sound she makes and every spot that makes her tremble. This is Ning Yizhuo, who commands boardrooms and makes million-dollar decisions without breaking a sweat, and you're reducing her to breathy moans and desperate touches.

"Please," she whispers when you spend particularly long teasing one nipple with your teeth. "Please, I need..."

"What do you need?" you ask against her skin.

"More. I need more."

Your hands slide down her sides to her hips, thumbs hooking under the edge of her panties. The lace is already damp, you can feel it, and the knowledge that she's this affected makes your cock throb painfully.

"These need to come off," you tell her.

"Yes," she agrees immediately, lifting her hips so you can slide the panties down her legs. You take your time with it, enjoying the way she shivers as the lace trails over her skin. When you reach her ankles, you leave the panties dangling from one heel, too impatient to remove them completely.

Now she's spread before you in just her stockings, garter belt, and heels, exactly like the fantasy you never admitted to having. Her pussy is bare, you discover, smooth and glistening with arousal. The sight makes your mouth water.

You drop to your knees before her, and the sight of Ning spread before you like this - vulnerable yet commanding, desperate yet still somehow in control - makes your heart race. Her thighs are trembling slightly, whether from anticipation or the cool air of the office, you're not sure. What you are sure of is that you've never wanted anything more than you want to taste her right now.

"Look at you," she breathes. "On your knees for me. Do you know how long I've fantasized about this exact moment?"

You slide your hands up her thighs, feeling the contrast between the silk of her stockings and the warm bare skin above them. Her breath hitches as your thumbs trace small circles on her inner thighs, so close to where she needs you but not quite there yet.

"Tell me," you murmur, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of her knee.

"Every night," she confesses, her fingers threading through your hair. "Every fucking night since college. I'd imagine you between my legs, making me scream your name." Her grip tightens as you kiss higher up her thigh. "I'd touch myself thinking about your mouth on me, wondering if you'd be gentle or if you'd devour me whole."

The raw honesty in her voice makes your cock strain against your pants. You can see how wet she is, her arousal glistening in the afternoon light streaming through the windows. The scent of her is intoxicating - clean and sweet with an underlying musk that's purely female.

"And which did you prefer?" you ask, your breath ghosting over her sensitive skin. "Gentle or being devoured?"

"Both," she gasps as you nip at the crease where her thigh meets her pussy. "I want everything from you. Everything I've been denied for six fucking years."

You lean back slightly to look up at her, taking in the sight of Ning Yizhuo - CEO. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips parted as she breathes heavily, and there's a wild look in her eyes that makes something primal stir in your chest.

"Then everything is what you'll get," you promise, and finally, finally, you lean forward and drag your tongue along her slit.

The sound she makes is inhuman - a broken moan that echoes off the walls of her office. Her back arches off the desk, and her thighs try to clamp around your head, but you hold them open with firm hands.

"Oh fuck," she gasps, "oh fuck, your mouth feels so good."

You take your time, learning the taste and texture of her. She's sweet and tangy, with a flavor that's addictive in the best possible way. Your tongue explores every fold, every sensitive spot, cataloguing what makes her writhe and what makes her cry out.

When you find her clit with the tip of your tongue, she actually screams - a high, desperate sound that would probably be audible in the hallway if anyone were around to hear it. Her hips buck against your mouth, seeking more friction, more pressure, more everything.

"There," she pants, "right there, don't stop, please don't fucking stop."

You circle her clit with broad strokes of your tongue, then switch to quick flicks that make her entire body shake. Her taste is stronger here, more concentrated, and you find yourself getting drunk on it. This is Ning Yizhuo falling apart because of you, and the power of it is intoxicating.

"You taste incredible," you murmur against her pussy, the vibrations making her moan. "Better than I ever imagined."

"You imagined this?" The question is breathless, barely coherent.

"More than I should have," you admit before sealing your lips around her clit and sucking gently.

The effect is immediate and devastating. Her back bows completely off the desk, her hands fisting in your hair hard enough to hurt, and she lets out a string of curses that would make a sailor blush.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, yes, just like that, oh my god, I'm going to come, I'm going to come all over your face."

You increase the pressure, alternating between sucking and licking, and you can feel her thighs starting to tremble uncontrollably. Her breathing becomes erratic, punctuated by little whimpers and gasps that go straight to your cock.

But just as she's about to tip over the edge, you pull back.

"No!" she cries out, her eyes flying open to stare down at you with a mixture of desperation and fury. "What the fuck are you doing? I was so close!"

You smile up at her, your lips glistening with her arousal. "Patience, boss. We have all afternoon, remember?"

The look she gives you could melt steel. "You bastard. You absolute bastard. Do you have any idea how long it's been since someone made me come?"

"How long?" you ask, pressing soft kisses to her inner thighs while she tries to catch her breath.

"Too fucking long," she growls. "And you're going to make me wait even longer?"

"I'm going to make it worth the wait," you promise, then lean forward to drag your tongue through her folds again.

This time you avoid her clit entirely, focusing instead on the sensitive entrance to her pussy. Your tongue delves inside her, and she tastes even better here - richer, more intense. You fuck her with your tongue while your hands grip her thighs, holding her open for your exploration.

"You're evil," she pants, her hips rolling against your mouth. "This is torture."

"This is worship," you correct, pulling back to look at her. "This is me taking my time with every perfect inch of you."

You mean it, too. You want to memorize this moment - the way she looks spread out on her executive desk, the sounds she makes when you touch her just right, the way her body responds to every stroke of your tongue. This is Ning Yizhuo completely at your mercy, and you're going to savor every second.

Your hands slide up to cup her ass, lifting her slightly so you can get better access. The new angle lets you go deeper with your tongue, and she responds with a broken moan that makes your cock throb.

"Please," she whispers, and there's something broken in her voice that makes you look up. Her eyes are glazed with lust, but there's something else there too - vulnerability, need, a desperation that goes beyond physical desire.

"Please what?" you ask softly.

"Make me come. Please, I need it so badly. I need you to make me come."

"Okay," you whisper against her skin. "Okay, baby, I've got you."

The endearment slips out without your permission, but she responds to it with a shuddering breath that tells you she needs the tenderness as much as the pleasure.

You return to her clit with renewed purpose, sealing your lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves and sucking while your tongue works in quick, consistent strokes. Her response is immediate - her back arches, her thighs clamp around your head, and she starts to fall apart with beautiful, devastating completeness.

"Yes, yes, yes, oh fuck, I'm coming, I'm coming, don't stop, please don't stop!"

You don't stop. You work her through it, feeling her pussy clench and pulse against your tongue as waves of pleasure crash over her. She's loud - so loud that you're grateful for the thickness of the office walls - and completely uninhibited in a way that makes you want to give her a hundred more orgasms just to hear those sounds again.

When the tremors finally subside, she collapses back onto the desk, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath. You press soft kisses to her inner thighs, tasting the salt of her sweat mixed with her arousal.

"Holy shit," she breathes after a long moment. "That was... holy shit."

You smile against her skin, pleased with her reaction. "Good?"

"Good?" She laughs, the sound slightly hysterical. "I think I just saw God. Or at least the corporate equivalent."

You chuckle, sitting back on your heels to look at her. She's a mess in the best possible way - her hair is disheveled, her makeup is smudged, and there's a pink flush covering her chest and neck. She looks thoroughly debauched, and the sight makes your cock throb with need.

"Come here," she says, making grabby hands at you.

You stand up, and she immediately reaches for your belt buckle with fingers that are still slightly shaky from her orgasm.

"My turn," she says with a wicked grin.

But before she can get your belt undone, you catch her hands in yours.

"Wait," you say.

She looks up at you with confusion and a hint of frustration. "Wait for what? I want to taste you. I want to suck your cock until you come down my throat."

The crude words make your cock twitch, but you shake your head. "Later. Right now, I want something else."

"What?" she asks, though there's a knowing glint in her eyes that suggests she already has an idea.

Instead of answering with words, you lean down and capture her lips in a kiss that's all heat and desperation. She can taste herself on your tongue, and the knowledge makes her moan into your mouth.

When you break the kiss, you rest your forehead against hers. "Turn around," you murmur.

Her eyes widen slightly. "Here? On the desk?"

"Here. On the desk. I want to fuck you exactly where you make million-dollar decisions. I want you to think about this every time you sit in that chair."

The possessiveness in your voice makes her shiver, and she nods eagerly. "Yes. God, yes."

She slides off the desk and turns around, bending over the polished wood surface. The position showcases her ass perfectly - round and firm, framed by the black straps of her garter belt. 

"Like this?" she asks, looking back at you over her shoulder.

"Perfect," you breathe, running your hands over the curve of her ass. "Absolutely perfect."

You take a moment to appreciate the view - Her pussy is still glistening from your mouth and her orgasm, and you can see how swollen and sensitive she is.

"You're so beautiful like this," you tell her, pressing a kiss to the small of her back. "So fucking beautiful."

She wiggles her hips impatiently. "Less talking, more fucking. I need you inside me."

You chuckle at her impatience, but your desperation matches hers, a frantic thrumming deep in your bones. This entire afternoon has been a slow, calculated demolition of your control, and now you stand in the rubble, ready to claim your prize.

Your hands, suddenly clumsy, find the buckle of your belt. The metallic click is deafeningly loud in the quiet office. The leather slides free with a soft hiss, and you work the button and zipper of your trousers with a feverish haste that feels foreign to your usually composed self.

Your cock springs free, hot and aching, straining toward her in the cool, conditioned air. It’s painfully hard, a solid length of need pointed directly at the woman who has orchestrated your undoing.

“Condom?” you manage to ask. A part of you, the wild, reckless part she has so expertly unearthed, prays she says no .

“Pill,” she says. “I’m on the pill. And I’m clean. Are you…?”

“Clean,” you confirm. You reach down, your fingers wrapping around your own length, stroking yourself once, slowly. The slick pre-cum that beads at the tip is for her, all for her. “It’s been a while since…” You let the sentence hang, unfinished. There’s no need to explain. 

“Good,” she says, and the firmness in her tone is a command. A verdict. “I want to feel you. All of you. No barriers”.

Her words are the final nail in the coffin of your restraint. No barriers. The thought is intoxicating. The idea of being inside her, skin to skin, feeling every twitch and clench of her body around you, is enough to make your cock throb.

You step closer, closing the small gap that remains between your bodies. You’re standing directly behind her now, the heat from her skin calling to you. You press the head of your cock against her, not at her entrance yet, but against the soft curve of her ass. She gasps, a sharp, involuntary sound.

“Just want you to feel how ready I am for you,” you murmur, your lips close to her ear. “How hard you make me.”

You move from her flesh to her folds, running the thick, crowned head of your cock through her slickness. She is so incredibly wet, a proof of the orgasm you gave her, her body weeping with arousal. You glide through her slick folds with an ease that makes you both groan, a shared sound of imminent satisfaction.

Her scent rises to meet you, a complex, intoxicating perfume of expensive soap, female musk, and the lingering, sweet tang of her climax. You breathe it in, letting it fuel the fire in your veins.

“Please,” she whispers, her voice breaking. She pushes back against you, a subtle, desperate movement that begs for more. “I need you inside me. God, I’ve waited so long.”

You position the head of your cock at her entrance, just the very tip breaking the seal of her body. The resistance is exquisite. She’s so tight, so hot, a perfect, velvet clenching that promises heaven.

You can feel the delicate inner folds of her body giving way to you, the slick heat a welcoming caress. She’s so tight you know you’ll have to go slow, a fact that wages war with the desperate, frantic need to slam into her and claim her completely.

“Relax,” you murmur against the shell of her ear, letting your breath ghost over her skin. One hand comes to rest on the small of her back, a gesture that is both possessive and soothing. “Just relax and take me, Ning. Let me in, baby."

The endearment slips out, unplanned but feeling more right than anything you’ve ever said. Her breath catches in her throat, a tiny, hitching sound, and you feel a subtle shift as some of the tension leaves her body. She is yielding to you. Opening for you.

You take the invitation, pushing forward, slowly, deliberately. You savor every single inch of penetration, every millimeter of your body being swallowed by her heat. She feels impossibly good, a sheath of hot, wet silk gripping you, squeezing you. It takes every ounce of your willpower not to lose your mind, not to thrust into her with all the pent-up frustration of the last six years.

“Oh, fuck,” she gasps out, the words punched from her as you stretch her, fill her. Her hands, which had been resting on the desk, are now fisted, her knuckles white. “You’re so big. So much bigger than I ever imagined.”

“You imagined this, too?” you ask. You pause, holding yourself there, just an inch or two inside her, letting her body adjust to the sheer size of you. You want her to feel every bit of you.

“Every night,” she confesses. “Every single night. I’d touch myself and imagine you like this. Filling me up, stretching me, making me yours”.

Her confession is your undoing.

“You are mine,” you growl, the words torn from a place deep inside you, a place of primal, possessive instinct. You thrust forward with that declaration, pushing deeper into her slick heat. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” she gasps immediately. “I’m yours, babe, I’m completely, fucking yours”.

Her submission, so total and immediate, snaps the last thread of your restraint. With one final, powerful thrust, you drive yourself forward, bottoming out inside her, burying yourself to the hilt in her tight, welcoming heat.

She cries out, a sharp, piercing sound that is half pain, half ecstasy. Her body clenches around you, a powerful, involuntary squeeze that nearly pushes you over the edge. 

For a long moment, you don’t move. You can’t. You just stay there, buried deep inside her, your chests pressed together, your heart hammering against her back. You feel the frantic pulse of her own heart, a frantic, hummingbird rhythm that matches your own.

“God, you feel incredible,” you breathe out. The feeling of being inside her is almost too much - so tight, so wet, so hot. You know that if you start moving now, this will be over far too quickly. You want to draw this out, to make this moment last an eternity.

But Ning has other ideas. She has waited six years for this, and patience is a virtue she no longer possesses.

“Move,” she demands. She pushes back against you, her hips rocking in a clear, unmistakable invitation. “Please. I need you to move. I need to feel you.”

You obey. You pull back, slowly, torturously, until just the thick, crowned head of your cock remains inside her, teasing her entrance. She whimpers at the withdrawal, a desperate little sound of protest. Then you thrust forward again, a single, deep, deliberate stroke that makes her see stars.

A matched set of moans fills the opulent office, your deeper groan harmonizing with her higher-pitched cry. You can feel her pussy clenching around your length, milking you, trying to pull you even deeper inside her, if such a thing were even possible.

“More,” she begs. “Harder. Don’t be gentle. I’m not going to break”.

You establish a rhythm, your hips finding a steady, rocking cadence. Slow, deep, punishing strokes that are designed for maximum sensation, for both of you. Each thrust drives you deeper into her core, each withdrawal is a sweet, agonizing torment. The wet, slick sounds of your bodies slapping together fill the quiet room, a filthy, glorious symphony of their own making. It’s obscene. It’s perfect. It is everything you never knew you needed.

Your hands find her hips, gripping the sharp bones as you pull her back onto your cock with each powerful thrust. You are in control, yet you are completely at her mercy.

“You feel so good,” you tell her. “So tight and wet and perfect. It feels like you were made for my cock”.

“I was,” she pants, her words coming in short, breathless bursts. She meets your thrusts with an equal, desperate enthusiasm, her hips bucking against you. “I was made for you. Only you. Only for this.”

The raw, possessive certainty in her voice fuels your own. It ignites a firestorm in your blood. You both know, in that moment, that this is more than just fucking. This is a claiming. This is a branding. There is no going back from this. There is no pretending this is just about scratching an itch or a corporate power play. This is possession. This is surrender. This is two halves of a whole, finally, violently, crashing together.

You lean over her, pressing your chest flush against her sweat-slicked back. Your bodies move together as one. You lower your head, your lips finding her ear.

“Is this what you wanted, Ning?” you murmur, your thrusts never faltering. “Me, fucking you on your desk? In the middle of the afternoon, where anyone could walk in and see us like this?”

“Yes,” she gasps, the word a prayer. She turns her head, craning her neck to try and find your lips with hers. “Yes, I want them to know. I want everyone in this entire building to know that you belong to me. That you’re mine”.

The kiss is awkward from this angle, frantic, a desperate clash of teeth and tongues. But it’s no less passionate for its clumsiness. You can taste her desperation, her want, the years of accumulated longing finally being sated. You taste her lipstick and the faint, salty tang of her sweat. It’s the most intoxicating flavor you’ve ever known.

When you break the kiss, you straighten up slightly, pulling back just enough to change the angle of your thrusts. You push deeper, your cock sliding against a different wall inside her. You feel a ridge, a specific spot that makes her entire body jolt.

You’ve found it. Her G-spot.

She screams, a raw, uncontrolled sound of pure pleasure that echoes off the walls of her office.

“There!” she cries out. “Oh god, right there, whatever you’re doing, don’t stop. Please, please don’t fucking stop!”

You don’t. You aim for that spot with every single thrust, a relentless, targeted assault on her senses. You watch, mesmerized, as she completely falls apart beneath you. Her professionally manicured hands are no longer fisted; they are splayed out across her desk, scrabbling for purchase, fisting the expensive stationery and scattering papers to the floor. She is probably ruining million-dollar contracts, but in this moment, neither of you could possibly care.

All that matters is this. The slick, glorious slide of skin against skin. The symphony of your mingled breaths and desperate moans. The feeling of her, wrapped around you like a second skin, like she was born for this, for you.

You feel the tension in her body begin to build, a new, frantic energy. Her inner muscles begin to flutter around your cock, a prelude to the storm that is about to break.

“I’m close,” she warns you. “So close, I’m right there, please, I need to come. I need you to make me come.”

“Then come for me, Ning,” you growl. One of your hands leaves her hip, sliding around her body, between her legs, to find the slick, hard nub of her clit. You circle it with your thumb, the rough pad of your skin a stark contrast to the sensitive pearl of flesh. “Come all over my cock. Show me how much you want this”.

That final touch, that direct stimulation, is all it takes to push her over the edge.

She comes with a scream that you are certain could shatter the very glass of the windows. It’s a sound of pure, unadulterated release, a sound that she has probably never made in her entire, controlled life. Her pussy clamps down on your cock, a series of violent, ecstatic pulses that feels like you’re being milked, drained, worshipped.

The sight of her, the sound of her, the incredible, mind-altering feeling of her coming apart around your cock, is your undoing. It shatters your own control, pushing you right to the precipice.

“Ning,” you warn, the name torn from your lips. Your own thrusts become erratic, frantic, your hips bucking of their own accord.

“Inside me,” she gasps, still riding the aftershocks of her own powerful orgasm. “Come inside me. Please. I want to feel you fill me up. I want all of you”.

That permission, that desperate, pleading invitation, is all you need.

With a final, guttural groan that seems to be ripped from the very depths of your soul, you thrust deep one last time, burying yourself as far as you can possibly go. You hold yourself there as your own orgasm crashes over you, a tidal wave of pure, white-hot pleasure. You spill your seed deep inside her, emptying yourself into her heat with a sense of finality, of completion.

She takes it all, her pussy still pulsing, clenching around your softening cock, milking every last drop from you as if it were the most precious substance on earth.

For a long, silent moment, you both stay frozen in that tableau. You, buried deep inside her, boneless and spent. Her, bent over her desk, trembling with the aftershocks of her climax. The only sounds are your harsh, ragged breaths, mingling in the sex-scented air.

When you finally find the strength to pull out of her, the sound is wet and obscene. You look down, and the sight that greets you nearly makes your knees buckle. Your cum, thick and white, is starting to leak from her well-fucked pussy, pearling on her swollen lips before tracing a slow, lazy path down her inner thigh. The sight is so incredibly proprietary, so filthy and so perfect, that your spent cock gives a reflexive twitch of renewed interest.

“That was…” she starts, her voice trailing off into a long, boneless, satisfied sigh. She can’t seem to find the words.

“Incredible,” you finish for her.

Slowly, carefully, she turns around to face you. And the sight of her steals the breath from your lungs. She is a beautiful, glorious ruin. Her meticulously applied makeup is completely wrecked, mascara smudged beneath her eyes, her lipstick a faint, blurry memory. Her expensive, perfect hair is a tangled mess, sticking to her sweat-sheened face. There is a deep, pink flush covering her cheeks, her neck, her chest. She looks thoroughly, utterly, beautifully debauched. And in the center of it all is a post-orgasmic glow that makes her more stunning than you have ever seen her before.

“Come here,” she says.

You take a step closer, your own legs feeling unsteady. She rises up on her toes, her hands coming to rest on your shoulders, and she kisses you. It’s a different kiss from the others. It’s softer, slower. There’s no desperation in it, no frantic claiming. It is a kiss of quiet satisfaction, of deep, resonant connection. It’s a kiss that tastes of your mingled scents, of salt and sex and satisfaction.

When she finally breaks the kiss, she doesn’t move away. She rests her forehead against yours, her eyes searching your face. Her expression is one you’ve never seen on her before. It is vulnerable, and hopeful, and more than a little scared, all at once.

“This changes things,” she says quietly. It’s not a question. It’s a statement of fact.

“Yeah,” you agree. “It does”.

“I meant what I said before,” she continues, her gaze unwavering. “About loving you. About all of it. This wasn’t just about sex for me”.

You are starting to realize, with a terrifying, exhilarating clarity, that what you feel for this woman, this incredible, infuriating, intoxicating woman, goes far beyond simple lust or even affection. She has been a ghost in your life for six years, a “what if” that you never allowed yourself to explore. And now, in the space of a single afternoon, she has made herself terrifyingly, beautifully real. She has gotten under your skin in a way that should send you running for the hills.

But you don’t want to run.

“I know,” you tell her, because it’s the only truth you can manage right now. The words “I love you, too” are there, perched on the tip of your tongue, but they are too new, too frightening, to set free just yet.

She seems to understand. She gives a small, accepting nod, her eyes softening with a wisdom that seems beyond her years. She finally steps back, creating a space between you that feels like a physical loss.

“We should probably clean up,” she says, a reluctant practicality creeping back into her voice. “Make ourselves presentable”.

You’re about to agree, to nod and start gathering your scattered clothing. But then your gaze falls again to her thighs, to the milky evidence of your climax still glistening on her pale skin. And suddenly, you are not quite ready for this to be over. You are not ready to return to the real world just yet.

“Not yet,” you say.

She raises a single, perfectly sculpted eyebrow, a flicker of the imperious CEO returning to her features. “No? And what, precisely, did you have in mind?”

You don’t answer her with words. Instead, you drop to your knees before her.

Her eyes widen, her lips parting on a soft, sharp gasp of surprise as she realizes what you’re about to do.

“You can’t be serious,” she breathes.

“Dead serious,” you murmur, your voice muffled as you press a soft, reverent kiss to her hip bone, right where the strap of her garter belt digs slightly into her skin. You trail a line of kisses inward, toward the prize. “I want to taste us together. I want to taste you”.

The idea, by all rights, should be repulsive. It’s primal, animalistic, possessive. But instead of disgust, a fresh, potent wave of arousal crashes through you. Your cock, which had begun to soften, gives a hard, affirmative twitch. There is something so incredibly intimate, so fundamentally possessive, about the thought of tasting your own seed mixed with her arousal, of cleaning her with your own mouth. It is the ultimate act of claiming.

“That’s so… dirty,” she whispers, but there is no condemnation in her voice. Only a raw, breathless heat that tells you she is just as turned on by the idea as you are.

“ You love dirty ,” you point out. You reach her inner thigh and nip at the soft flesh, a gentle, playful bite that makes her jump.

She doesn’t deny it. She can’t. Instead, she spreads her legs wider, an unspoken, eager invitation. She is giving you better access, offering herself up to you completely.

You lean forward, your heart hammering against your ribs. And then, you drag your tongue through her slick folds, gathering the mingled fluids of your releases.

The taste is… overwhelming. It’s intense, salty from her sweat, musky from her arousal, and with the unmistakable, slightly alkaline flavor of your own cum. It’s the most intimate taste imaginable, a flavor that speaks of possession and surrender, of a boundary crossed and obliterated. The taste of us . It makes your head spin, and from the strangled, desperate sound she makes above you, you know she feels the same way.

“Oh, god,” she gasps, her fingers immediately tangling in your hair, gripping the strands tightly. “ That’s so fucking hot. Oh, fuck.”

You take your time. You are meticulous. This is not a rushed cleanup; this is an act of worship. Your tongue delves deep, seeking out and gathering every last drop of your seed from within her. You lick her clean with a thoroughness that borders on obsession.

She is so incredibly sensitive now, her nerves raw and singing from your previous ministrations and her powerful orgasm. Every slow, deliberate stroke of your tongue makes her shiver and gasp. Her hips begin to rock, a slow, unconscious grind against your mouth as she seeks more friction. She is chasing another pleasure, another release, even in the aftermath of the last one.

By the time you are finished, she is breathing heavily again, her knuckles white where she grips your hair. Her thighs are trembling. And your own cock, to your astonishment and delight, is fully, painfully hard once more.

You pull back, licking your lips. You look up at her, and she is staring down at you with a look of pure, unadulterated lust.

“My turn,” she says.

Before you can even begin to process her words, before you can protest or agree, she is moving. She slides from her perch on the desk and drops to her knees in front of you, the movement fluid and shockingly graceful.

The sight of Ning Yizhuo, the powerful, untouchable CEO, on her knees in her own office - still wearing nothing but a pair of ridiculously expensive heels and a black lace garter belt holding up her sheer stockings - is enough to make your brain short-circuit completely. It is the most debauched, most incredible thing you have ever seen.

“I have been wanting to do this for hours,” she murmurs. Her small, cool hand wraps around the base of your thick, straining cock. The contrast of her delicate fingers against your coarse flesh is electrifying. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to sit across that desk from you, trying to look threatening, when all I could think about was having you in my mouth?”

You’re about to respond, to say something, anything, but the words die in your throat. Because she leans forward, her dark, silky hair brushing against your thighs, and takes the thick, crowned head of your cock between her lips.

The sensation is a lightning strike, a pure, jangling bolt of pleasure that shoots straight from the tip of your cock to the base of your spine. Any and all coherent thought you might have possessed evaporates into thin air.

“Fuck,” you breathe out. Your hands, acting of their own accord, find her hair, your fingers tangling in the soft, silken strands.

She hums around you, a low, satisfied sound of approval. The vibration travels down the length of your shaft, a deep, resonant thrumming that makes your toes curl in your shoes.

Then, she takes you deeper. Her lips are impossibly soft, her mouth wet and hot. Her tongue, slick and agile, begins to work its magic, tracing the sensitive vein along the underside of your shaft as she swallows you down, inch by agonizingly slow inch.

You are dimly, vaguely aware that she is incredibly skilled at this. Her technique is flawless, practiced, perfect. And the thought of her learning these skills, of her perfecting this art with other men, makes something possessive and ugly and fiercely jealous rear its head in your chest.

As if she can read your mind, as if she can sense the sudden shift in your mood, she pulls off of you with a wet, popping sound that echoes in the quiet room. She looks up at you, her dark eyes knowing, perceptive. A single, glistening string of saliva connects her full, pink lips to the head of your cock.

“No one else has ever made me feel the way you do,” she says. Her hand, which is still wrapped around your base, begins to stroke you, a slow, hypnotic rhythm. “No one else has ever mattered. This mouth? It was always waiting for you” 

Her words, so honest and direct, soothe the jealous, snarling beast in your chest. You reach down with one hand, your fingers stroking her cheek, a gesture of thanks, of acceptance.

“Good,” you say simply, the single word conveying a world of possessive satisfaction.

A slow, wicked smile spreads across her face. She knows you. She understands your need to possess her as much as she needs to possess you. Then, she takes you back into her mouth with a renewed, ferocious enthusiasm.

This time, she goes deeper. Much deeper. With a practiced ease that makes your knees feel weak, she relaxes her throat and takes you all the way down, swallowing your entire length until her nose is pressed against your pubic bone and her lips are flush against your pelvis.

The sight of your own cock completely disappearing between her perfect, crimson lips is almost too much to handle. It is a visual of total submission, total worship.

“Jesus, Ning,” you gasp out, your hips giving an involuntary buck. “Your mouth feels… fuck, it feels incredible”.

She pulls off you again, just enough so she can speak. That glistening thread of saliva stretches between you once more.

“I used to practice,” she confesses, a husky whisper that is for your ears only. “On toys. While thinking about you. I wanted to be perfect for you. For when I finally got the chance to do this. To have you”.

The mental image she paints - of Ning Yizhuo, the untouchable chaebol princess, alone in her room, practicing fellatio, all for you - is so intensely erotic it makes your cock give a violent, convulsive twitch in her hand.

“You are perfect,” you tell her. “So fucking perfect, babe.”

She takes that as her cue. She takes you back into her mouth, and this time, she holds nothing back. She is a woman on a mission, a woman who has waited six years to claim her prize.

She bobs her head eagerly, her movements quick and sure. She takes you deep on every stroke, her throat muscles clenching around you, while her free hand works the parts of you that she can’t fit in her mouth. The wet, sloppy sounds of her efforts fill the office, an obscene and beautiful chorus that is music to your ears.

You can feel your second orgasm building with an embarrassing, shocking quickness. Your body is still humming from your previous release, your nerves are shot, and her skilled, relentless mouth is simply too much. But just as you’re about to warn her, just as you’re about to pull out, she stops.

She pulls away, leaving you throbbing and painfully close to the edge.

“Not yet,” she says, and her grin is pure, unadulterated wickedness. “I’m not done with you. Not by a long shot”.

She stands up, the movement fluid and graceful. You’re about to protest, to beg her to finish what she started, when she turns around and bends over the desk again, assuming the same position as before.

This time, however, she looks back at you over her shoulder, her dark eyes glittering with a new, challenging light.

“I want you to fuck my ass,” she says, her voice blunt, devoid of any softness. 

Your brain, already overloaded with pleasure and sensation, stutters to a complete halt. “What?” you manage to choke out, certain you must have misheard her.

“You heard me,” she says, voice firm. “I want you to fuck my ass. I want you to claim every single part of me. I want you to leave your mark everywhere. No part of me left untouched by you”.

Your cock, which was already painfully hard, seems to gain a new, impossible thickness. But a sliver of your rational mind takes over.

“Ning,” you say. “We don’t have any lube. And I don’t want to hurt you. I won’t hurt you”.

A slow, secret smile touches her lips. Without taking her eyes off you, she reaches to the side and pulls open one of her desk drawers. Her hand disappears inside for a moment before reemerging, holding a small, sleek, silver bottle. It’s personal lubricant. High-end, by the looks of it.

She sees the look of pure, dumbfounded surprise on your face, and she shrugs, a casual, nonchalant movement of her shoulders.

“I’m a woman with needs,” she says, matter-of-fact. “And a very, very stressful job. Sometimes, a girl needs to… relieve a little tension during the workday”.

The thought of her, sitting here in this very office, in her power suit, touching herself, sends a fresh wave of heat crashing through you. Your mouth goes dry.

“You masturbate at work?” you ask, the question coming out as a strangled whisper.

“When the mood strikes,” she says, completely unapologetic. She holds your gaze, her eyes glittering with mischief. “Usually while thinking about you, if I’m being completely honest”.

That confession, that final, devastating admission, makes your head spin. But before you can fully process the implications, she is pushing the cool, metal bottle of lubricant into your hand.

“Please,” she says, and the command is gone from her voice now. It is replaced by a soft, raw vulnerability that cuts right through your shock and straight to your heart. “I need this. I need you to take me completely. To own me. Please”.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

“I have never been more sure of anything in my entire life,” she replies, resolute.

You nod slowly. You twist the cap off the bottle and squeeze a generous, viscous dollop of the clear lubricant onto your fingers. It’s cool against your skin.

You approach her slowly, reverently. You start with just one finger, working the slick lube around her tight, puckered entrance. She breathes in deeply, trying to relax her body for you.

“That’s it,” you murmur. “Just relax for me. Breathe”.

Your first finger slides in with a surprising ease. She gasps at the intrusion, a sharp, startled sound. Her inner muscles clench tightly around you for a moment before slowly, consciously, relaxing. You work your finger in and out slowly, letting her get used to the strange, new sensation of being filled this way, before you add a second finger.

She is incredibly, exquisitely tight. You take your time, stretching her carefully, gently, with a patience you didn’t know you possessed.

“More,” she gasps out after a few long, silent minutes. “I can take more. I want to feel you. All of you”.

You add a third finger, and she moans, a low, guttural sound of pleasure and pain mingled together. The stretch is intense, but you can feel her arousal growing with it. Her slickness has started to mingle with the lube. You reach around with your other hand, your thumb finding her clit and brushing over it lightly. She nearly jumps off the desk, her whole body jolting with pleasure.

“I’m ready,” she says, her voice breathless, urgent. “Please. I’m ready now”.

You withdraw your slick fingers with a soft, wet sound. You squeeze a liberal amount of the lube onto your own cock, coating the entire length until it glistens in the afternoon light. Then, you position yourself at her tight, waiting entrance. You press forward, slowly, carefully.

The thick, crowned head of your cock breaches her tight ring of muscle, and she cries out, a sharp, high-pitched sound that is pure, unadulterated sensation.

“Okay?” you ask immediately, freezing in place, your body rigid with the effort of holding back.

“Yes,” she gasps. “Yes, it’s okay. Keep going. Don’t you dare stop”.

You push forward, incrementally, giving her body time to adjust to each new inch of you. It is the most intense, most incredible feeling you have ever experienced. She is so impossibly tight, the pressure almost painful, but in the best way imaginable. The heat inside her is scorching. When you are finally, finally fully seated inside her, buried to the hilt in her tight, welcoming sheath, you both pause, breathless, just trying to process the overwhelming sensation.

“How does it feel?” you ask.

“Full,” she breathes out, the single word conveying a universe of feeling. ]“So fucking full. I can feel you everywhere. In every part of me”.

You start to move, your first thrusts incredibly slow, almost tentative. You pull back until just the head of your cock remains inside her, and then you push forward again, sinking back into her tight, hot depths.

The sensation is unlike anything you have ever felt. It’s a different kind of friction, a different kind of heat. It is almost overwhelming in its intensity.

“Faster,” she demands after only a few slow, torturous strokes. “I need it faster. Harder”.

You increase your pace, your hips finding a new, harder, faster rhythm. Your hands grip her hips tightly, your fingers digging into her soft flesh as you drive into her again and again. She meets your thrusts with a wild, desperate enthusiasm, pushing back against you, taking every inch of you without hesitation.

“Touch yourself,” you tell her. “Touch your clit for me. Come for me while I fuck your ass”.

She obeys immediately, without a single word of protest. One of her hands slides down between her legs, her fingers finding the sensitive, hard nub of her clit.

The combination is explosive. Your cock, buried deep in her ass, and her own fingers working her clit, sends her into a frenzy of pleasure. She moans continuously, a long, unbroken stream of pleasure-drunk sounds that bounce off the walls of her office.

You can feel her climax building, the tension in her body winding tighter and tighter, like a spring being coiled to its breaking point.

“I’m close,” she warns. “Oh god, I’m so close”.

“Come for me, Ning,” you growl, your own orgasm building with a terrifying rapidity. “Come with my cock buried in your ass. Let me feel you come apart for me”.

The permission, the command, is all she needs. She comes with a scream that you are certain must have been heard three floors down. It is a sound of pure earth-shattering release, a sound torn from the very depths of her soul.

Her entire body convulses around you, a series of violent, ecstatic spasms that grip your cock like a fist. Her back arches impossibly high off the desk, her head thrashing from side to side, her perfectly styled hair now a wild, sweat-soaked mess. A stream of raw, unfiltered curses pours from her lips, mingling with desperate, broken pleas and your name, repeated over and over like a prayer.

“Fuck—oh God—yes—please, don’t stop, fuck!”

You feel every single clench of her tight anal muscles, but the feeling of her coming apart around you is not your undoing. It is not the thing that pushes you over the edge.

It’s your fuel.

Her climax, so total and absolute, incinerates the last vestiges of your control. The part of you that was trying to be careful, the part that was tempering your strength, is burned away, leaving only a raw need.

“That’s it,” you growl against her ear. “Take it. Feel my cock in your tight little ass while you come.”

Your rhythm changes instantly. The slow, deep, almost hypnotic strokes are gone. In their place is a brutal, punishing battery. You stop pulling out, instead keeping yourself buried to the hilt and just pistoning the last few inches of your length into her, short, hard, vicious thrusts that are designed to shatter what little composure she has left.

“Feel that, Ning?” you pant. “Feel me fucking you? You wanted this.”

The polished wood of her desk groans under the force of your assault. Your balls slap against her reddening skin with each powerful slam.

She is a wreck beneath you, boneless and shuddering in the aftermath of her orgasm, but she’s still with you. She pushes back, her movements weak but defiant, trying to meet the force of your thrusts.

“Yes,” she sobs. “Yes, please—harder—fuck me harder.”

“You want it harder?” you say. You grip her hips, your fingers bruising the soft flesh, and haul her back against you as you change your rhythm again, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back into her with the full force of your body.

Each thrust feels like a lightning strike. Each impact makes her cry out, a fresh wave of sensation washing over her already hypersensitive nerves.

“I’m going to break you on this desk,” you tell her. “I’m going to fuck you until you forget your own name. All you’ll know is my cock in your ass.”

“Fuck,” she moans. “Fuck, babe, you're ruining me!”

“Yes,” you snarl. “And you’re going to take my cum, Ning. You’re going to take every fucking drop of it.”

You can feel your own orgasm clawing its way up your spine, a desperate, unstoppable force. Your vision begins to narrow, the edges of the room blurring into a smear of color. All you can see is her, bent over for you, taking you. All you can feel is the incredible, crushing tightness of her body around yours.

The pressure in your balls builds to an almost unbearable point. 

“Gonna cum, Ning” you roar, the words ripped from you as you drive into her one last time, burying yourself so deep you feel like you’re touching her soul. “Fuck, I'm cumming!”

Your orgasm crashes over you, a devastating, all-consuming wave of pure, white-hot pleasure. You come hard, your hips bucking uncontrollably as you flood her tight, hot channel with your seed. Thick, hot jets of your release pump deep inside her, one after another, an seemingly endless torrent. You empty yourself completely into her, filling her, branding her, claiming her in the most absolute way possible.

For a long moment after the pulsing stops, you don’t move. You collapse on top of her, your bodies slick with a shared sweat, your chest heaving as you try to drag air into your burning lungs. You stay buried inside her, your softening cock still nestled deep in her heat, feeling the faint, residual tremors of her orgasm and the gentle pulse of her muscles around you.

Finally, reluctantly, you pull out of her. The sound is wet and obscene, a thick, slick sound of separation. She whimpers at the loss, a soft, breathy sound of protest.

You’re both trembling, boneless and spent. But you’re not finished. Not yet.

“Don’t move,” you whisper.

She obeys, staying bent over the desk, her body trembling with exhaustion and pleasure.

You step back, your own legs unsteady. You look down at her, at the incredible, debauched sight she makes. And then, you reach forward. You place your hands on her ass, your thumbs finding the cleft.

“I want to see,” you murmur. “I want to see the mess I made of you.”

You press your thumbs into her flesh and pull her cheeks apart, spreading her wide open for your inspection.

Her hole is a beautiful ruin. The delicate, puckered ring of muscle is swollen, pink, and gaping slightly from the force of your fucking. It’s glistening, coated in a mixture of her slickness and the clear lube.

And then, you see it.

As you hold her open, a thick, pearly white bead of your cum wells up from inside her. It pushes its way out of her tight, abused hole before beginning a slow, lazy ooze down her skin, a milky testament to your climax. You watch, mesmerized, as more follows, a slow, thick leakage that pools between her cheeks before trailing down her thigh.

The sight is the most possessive, most depraved, most beautiful thing you have ever seen.

“Look at that, Ning,” you breathe. “Look at my cum. Leaking out of your perfect ass. You took it all for me.”

“That was…” she starts, her voice trailing off into a sigh of pure, boneless satisfaction.

“Incredible,” you finish for her, again.

She turns around slowly, her legs visibly shaky from the intensity of the session. When she looks up at you, her eyes are glistening with tears she won’t let fall - you’re not sure if they’re from emotion or the intense pleasure you just gave her.

“I love you,” she says quietly. And this time, it doesn’t sound like a confession or a weapon. It doesn’t sound like blackmail or a fantasy. It sounds like a simple, undeniable truth.

“I…” you start, but you stop. The words are there. They are screaming in your head. But your throat is tight, and you can’t seem to force them out.

She reaches up, her hand cupping your cheek, her thumb stroking your skin gently. “You don’t have to say it back,” she says. “Not yet. But I needed you to know. I needed you to hear it”.

You lean into her touch, completely overwhelmed by the intensity of everything that has just happened between you.

“We should clean up,” she says after a long, silent moment, though she sounds just as reluctant to move as you are.

“Yeah,” you agree.

But before either of you can take a single step toward your scattered clothing, a soft, hesitant knock sounds on the heavy oak door of the office.

You both freeze, your eyes locking in a shared moment of pure, unadulterated horror.

Ning’s secretary’s voice, muffled but clear, comes through the heavy wood. “Ms. Yizhuo? I’m so sorry to bother you, I know you said not to, but there’s an urgent call from the Seoul office. They say it’s an emergency. That it can’t wait” 

Ning stares at you, her eyes wide with panic. Then her gaze darts around the room, taking in the scene of complete and utter carnage. Your clothes and hers, scattered across the expensive carpet. Important-looking papers strewn across the floor and her desk.

“Just a moment, Lisa,” she calls out, and her voice, to your utter astonishment, is remarkably steady. It is the voice of a CEO in complete control, not a woman who was screaming in ecstasy just minutes ago. “Transfer the call to my private line. I’ll take it in a few minutes”.

“Of course, Ms. Yizhou," the secretary replies.

You both hold your breath, not moving a muscle, until you hear the faint, distant click of her heels walking away from the door.

Then, the tension breaks. Ning collapses against you, a sound bubbling up from her chest that is half laugh, half sob of hysterical relief.

“That was close,” she whispers, her face buried in your chest.

“Too close,” you agree, but you can’t suppress the wide, disbelieving grin that spreads across your face.

She looks up at you, and there is a wicked, unholy mischief glittering in her dark eyes. “Good thing these office walls are soundproof”.

You raise an eyebrow. “Are they really?”

She laughs, a genuine, delighted sound. “God, I hope so. Otherwise, the entire executive floor just got quite the show”.

The thought, which should be mortifying, is instead incredibly, intensely arousing. The idea of everyone in this building knowing that she is yours, that you are the one who can make the unshakable Ning Yizhuo scream with pleasure, it's a fantasy that feeds your ego.

“We really do need to clean up now,” she says, but she makes no move to step out of your arms.

“I know,” you say, but you don’t move either.

She reaches up and kisses you again, softly, sweetly. When she pulls away, she smiles, her expression open and hopeful and completely unguarded.

“Dinner tonight?” she asks. “Somewhere private. Somewhere we can talk without the risk of… interruption”.

“Your place or mine?” you ask, and the ease with which the question comes feels both strange and perfectly natural. Her smile widens.

“Mine,” she says. “I want to cook for you. It’s something I’ve been wanting to do for six years”.

“I’d like that,” you say, and you mean it.

“Good,” she says, finally, reluctantly, stepping away from you to begin the process of gathering her scattered clothing. “Because we have a lot to figure out”.

You watch her as she dresses, mesmerized by the startling efficiency with which she transforms herself from a debauched, wanton sex goddess back into the impeccably composed CEO. It is a startling, impressive transformation. By the time she is finished, the only remaining evidence of the last few hours of madness is her slightly disheveled hair and the deep, satisfied glow in her eyes.

“How do I look?” she asks, smoothing down the front of her skirt.

“Like you just had the best sex of your life,” you tell her honestly.

She grins back at you, a wide, triumphant flash of white teeth. “Perfect. That’s exactly the look I was going for”.

You finish dressing yourself, and by the time you are both presentable again, it is almost as if the last few hours never happened. Almost. Except for the way she keeps stealing secret, hungry glances at you when she thinks you’re not looking. Except for the way your skin still tingles where she touched you. Except for the fact that the entire world seems to have shifted on its axis.

“I should take that call,” she says with a reluctance that you share.

“And I should get back to work,” you agree, though the very last thing on earth you want to do is leave the sanctuary of her office.

She walks you to the door, a silent, shared journey across the room. Just as your hand reaches for the cool metal of the doorknob, she catches your hand, her small fingers lacing with yours.

“No regrets?” she asks, uncertain for the first time.

You look down at her. At this woman. This incredible, impossible woman who has turned your carefully constructed, meticulously ordered world completely upside down in the space of a single afternoon. You think about the complications, the consequences, the sheer, insane risk of it all. And you realize that despite all of that, you don’t regret a single, solitary second.

“No regrets,” you confirm. Her smile is so bright, so radiant, it could power the entire city. “Good. Because this is just the beginning”.

You know she’s right. Whatever this is, whatever it becomes, it is going to consume you both completely. And for the first time in six long, lonely years, you are ready to let it. 

You are ready to burn.

But just as you reach for the door handle a second time, she stops you again.

“Actually,” she says, and her voice has taken on that low, commanding tone again. That tone that makes your blood sing and your cock stir. “There’s one more thing”.

You turn back to her, your eyebrows raised in a silent question. The look in her eyes makes your pulse quicken. It is the look of a predator who has tasted blood and has decided that it is not yet finished with its meal

“What’s that?” you ask.

Instead of answering you right away, she moves back to her desk. She doesn’t sit behind it, but perches on the polished wooden edge, crossing her long, elegant legs in a way that deliberately, pointedly, draws your attention back to the sheer black stockings that still hug her thighs.

“Close the door.”

You raise an eyebrow, a flicker of your old, defiant self returning. “Ning, your secretary just said there was an urgent, emergency call from Seoul-”.

“The call can wait,” she interrupts, decisive. “This can’t”

There is something in her voice that makes you obey without another word of protest. You close the heavy oak door, the soft click of the latch sounding like a verdict. You turn back to her, and she is watching you, her gaze so intense, so focused, that it makes the fine hairs on your arms stand on end.

“Come here,” she commands.

You cross the room slowly, your footsteps unnaturally loud on the plush carpet. You are hyperaware of her eyes on you, tracking your every movement. When you finally reach her, standing before her at the desk, she spreads her legs slightly, a silent, clear invitation for you to stand between them.

“I lied,” she says simply

“About what?” 

“About being done with you.” Her hands, quick and sure, go to your belt, her nimble fingers working at the buckle with a practiced, devastating efficiency. “I am nowhere near done with you”.

Your cock, which had finally, blessedly, started to soften, immediately begins to stir, to harden again at her words, at her touch.

“Ning, we just-” you start to protest, your mind reeling.

“We just had the most amazing sex of our lives,” she agrees as she frees you from the confines of your pants for the second time in as many hours. “And now, I find that I want more”.

She wraps her small, cool hand around your semi-hard cock, her fingers stroking you slowly, expertly, coaxing you back to a full, throbbing hardness. The sensation is electric, especially since your nerves are still raw and humming from your previous, powerful orgasms.

“You’re insatiable,” you breathe out.

“Six years,” she reminds you. Her grip on you tightens slightly, a possessive, proprietary squeeze. “I have six years of fantasies to work through with you. We’ve barely scratched the surface”.

The reminder of just how long she has wanted this, how long she has wanted you, makes your head spin. You are already fully, painfully hard again, your body responding to her touch, to her proximity, to her sheer, indomitable will.

“What do you want?” you ask, because you know, with a terrifying certainty, that you will give her anything she asks for in this moment.

“I want you to cum deep in my throat,” she says. “And later, at my place, I want you to cum on my face. I want you to cum all over my body. I want to feel you all over my skin.”

The crude, explicit words, the sheer, unadulterated filth of her request, makes your cock give a violent, convulsive twitch in her hand. The image she paints - of her, on her knees before you, your thick, white seed painting her perfect, beautiful features - is so intensely, shockingly erotic that it is almost too much to process.

“I'm not against the idea,” you manage to choke out.

“Great. Let's get started.” She slides gracefully from her perch on the desk and drops to her knees in front of you for the second time that afternoon. “I want to taste you again. I want to feel you lose control in my mouth. I want to swallow you down”.

She doesn’t wait for your permission. She doesn’t wait for your response. She leans forward, her dark, silken hair falling around her face like a curtain, and takes the thick, crowned head of your cock between her lips.

The sensation is, if possible, even more incredible than the first time. It is made more intense by the knowledge that you are still sensitive, still humming from your previous activities. The heat of her mouth, the slickness of her tongue, is a paradise of sensation.

“Fuck,” you gasp out, your hands, as if they have a mind of their own, tangling in her hair, gripping her head, holding her in place.

She hums around you, a low, pleased vibration. Then, she takes you deeper, her agile tongue working its magic along the sensitive underside of your shaft as she swallows you down, inch by agonizing inch. The sight of your own cock disappearing between her perfect, crimson lips is almost too much to handle. It is a sight you know you will never, ever forget.

This time, there is no hesitation. There is no holding back. She is a woman possessed, a woman driven by six years of pent-up desire. She bobs her head eagerly, her movements quick and sure. She takes you as deep as she can on every single stroke, while her free hand wraps around your balls, cupping you, weighing you, claiming you.

“That’s it,” you encourage her. Your grip in her hair tightens, not painfully, but firmly, possessively. “Take it all, Ning. Take all of me”.

She responds to your command by relaxing her throat muscles completely, taking you even deeper than before. She takes you until her delicate, aristocratic nose is pressed against your pelvis, until her full, soft lips are flush against your skin. You are completely, utterly engulfed in the wet, hot heat of her mouth. The feeling of being so completely consumed by her makes your knees feel weak, your legs tremble.

You can feel your third orgasm of the afternoon building with a terrifying, shocking speed. The sensitivity from your previous climaxes has made every touch, every sensation, a hundred times more intense.

She seems to sense how close you are. She can feel the way your hips have started to buck, the way your muscles have started to tense. She doubles her efforts, her mouth working on you with a new, frantic energy. She sucks harder, her head moving faster, her tongue working in a dizzying, hypnotic rhythm.

“I’m close,” you warn her, and she doesn’t stop. Instead, she looks up at you, her dark, beautiful eyes wide and dark with lust and a fierce, unwavering determination.

And the sight of her, looking up at you with such raw, naked adoration while she swallows your cock, is your final, complete undoing.

Your orgasm crashes over you with a devastating, tidal force. You roar out your release, your head thrown back, your eyes squeezed shut, as you come hard and fast down her willing, eager throat.

She takes it all. She swallows every single drop of your release, her throat muscles working around you, clenching and pulsing as she milks you completely, greedily.

When you are finally, finally spent, your body trembling with the aftershocks of your release, she pulls off of you slowly, deliberately. She licks her full, plump lips with a look of deep, feline satisfaction. She has conquered you. She has consumed you. She has won.

“Delicious,” she purrs. She rises to her feet with a fluid, startling grace.

You’re about to respond, to say something, anything, when she surprises you by stepping forward and kissing you deeply, passionately. And you can taste yourself on her tongue. It is the most intimate, most shockingly dirty, most perfect flavor imaginable. You realize, in that moment, with a terrifying, exhilarating clarity, that you are completely, irrevocably addicted to this woman, and to everything she does to you.

When she finally breaks the kiss, she looks up at you. 

“Now I really am done,” she says, and a slow, wicked grin spreads across her face. “For now”.

The promise, the threat, in those last two words makes your spent, aching cock give a final, reflexive twitch of renewed interest.

This woman, you realize with a sense of dazed wonder, is going to be the death of you. And you find, to your utter astonishment, that you don’t care. Not even a little bit.

“You’re incredible,” you tell her, and you mean the words with every fiber of your being.

“I know,” she says, with a flash of her old, mock arrogance. Then, her expression softens. “But so are you. You were better than I ever dreamed”.

“That call,” you remind her reluctantly, the real world intruding once more.

“Right. The call.” She smooths down her hair, adjusts her clothing, and in the space of a few seconds, she transforms back into the composed, powerful CEO. The transformation is, as always, both startling and incredibly arousing.

“Dinner. Eight o’clock,” she says, all business once more. “I’ll text you my address”.

“I’ll be there,” you promise.

She reaches up and kisses you one last time

“Good,” she whispers against your lips, her breath warm and intoxicating. “Because we still have a lot to learn about each other, babe. If you know what I mean.”

As you finally, finally leave her office, your head spinning from the events of the last few hours, you realize, with a sense of dazed wonder, that your carefully constructed, meticulously ordered life is about to become beautifully, gloriously, chaotically complicated.

And for the first time in a very, very long time, you are looking forward to every single messy, passionate, unpredictable moment of it.

The elevator ride down feels completely different than the one up. It feels like you are descending from Mount Olympus, back into the world of mortals, a world that has been fundamentally, irrevocably changed while you were gone.

Your reflection in the polished steel doors shows a man who looks thoroughly, comprehensively satisfied. A man who looks dazed, and humbled, and completely, utterly conquered. You wonder, with a flicker of amusement, if everyone you pass on your way out of the building will be able to tell what just happened in that top-floor office.

As the numbers on the display count down - 50, 49, 48, 47 - your mind replays the events of the afternoon. You think about dinner tonight. You think about the raw, unguarded promise in Ning’s eyes. You think about the way she tasted, the way she felt, the incredible, uninhibited sounds she made when she came apart in your arms, in your mouth.

You think about six long years of missed opportunities, of unspoken desires, of paths not taken. And you think about the incredible, miraculous good fortune of getting a second chance.

The elevator reaches the ground floor with a soft, gentle ding. As the doors slide open, you step out into your new reality.

[lalo0-deactivated20251122]

You're under arrest

Male reader x Ningning

Word Count: 6.5k

Tags: handcuffs, dom/sub, rough sex, dirty talk, teasing, squirting

The late summer heat is dense, pressing against your back as you walk the side streets of Gangnam, hoodie clinging to your skin, bag heavy from whatever errands you didn’t finish. You’re not really paying attention. It’s one of those days — too hot, too quiet, and your brain’s half-fogged with sweat and leftover thoughts.

You’re almost past the alley when a voice cuts through the still air.

"You. Stop."

Firm. Clear. Female.

You freeze.

There’s a moment — not even a second — where you think no way, and then she steps into your line of sight.

Boots first. Then toned legs wrapped in fitted navy pants, a matching belt, a black walkie dangling at her side, and a crisp short-sleeved shirt tucked in tight. Shiny badge at her chest. Cap tilted just enough to shadow her face.

And sunglasses. Of course.

She’s in full uniform. Not sloppy. Not casual. It looks official. Too official.

She lifts a brow. “You’re ignoring a direct order from law enforcement?”

You glance around. No one else in the alley. You look back at her.

She doesn’t flinch.

You swallow. “Uh, no, ma’am.”

“Ma’am?” she echoes. And there’s something dangerous in how she says it. Something entertained. Like she’s waiting for you to fuck up further.

“I mean—officer.”

Her mouth quirks. Not quite a smile.

She steps closer. Not fast. Measured. You feel yourself stiffen, posture going awkwardly straight, like some old muscle memory from high school kicking in.

“Empty your pockets,” she says.

You blink. “Seriously?”

“You've been drinking?”

“No.”

“Drugs?”

“What? No.”

She stares. Too calm.

“Then you’ve got nothing to hide. Empty your pockets.”

You hesitate. Then sigh and start digging. Wallet. Keys. Phone. A stick of gum.

You hold them out like a student showing a teacher clean hands.

She glances down, barely even registering them. Then her gaze flicks back to yours.

She lifts her shades — slow — and it finally hits you. That face. That mouth. The curve of her cheek, the shape of her brow. Familiar in a way that tugs somewhere deep in your chest.

But it doesn’t land. Not yet. Like a dream you forgot the second you woke up.

She clicks her tongue. “And what were you doing loitering back there?”

“Just walking. Not loitering.”

She steps forward.

Close.

Her presence is heat and authority, and it’s ridiculous how your pulse reacts. There’s nothing playful in her posture — just calm control.

“Turn around,” she says.

You hesitate. “Are you actually—”

“Do you want to be detained?”

The back of your throat goes dry.

You turn.

Your bag slides off one shoulder. You hear the soft click of cuffs.

Cold metal. Real weight. Around your wrists.

Your heart kicks up.

“What the fuck,” you mutter, trying not to panic. “Seriously, what is this—”

She steps in close behind you. You can feel her body at your back. Not pressed, but there. Solid. Present.

Her breath brushes your neck. “You really don’t remember me?”

You freeze.

“What?”

She hums. Low. Like a private joke.

“I’ll give you a hint,” she whispers. “We used to build blanket forts. You always made me the bad guy.”

Your breath hitches. You turn your head slightly, but she doesn’t let you see her.

Too late.

Your brain scrambles, reaching — old memories, old summers, a girl with scraped knees and a laugh that made your chest ache even when you were eighteen.

But it doesn’t make sense.

She presses the cuffs tighter.

“Still nothing?” she says, almost pouting.

And then she bites your ear. Not hard. Just enough.

You jolt.

She lets out a breathy laugh and finally circles back around you, face full in the light now, shades gone. Hair a mess, smile wicked.

And goddamn — the recognition finally punches through.

But before you can say her name, she tilts her head and says, “Don’t say it. Not yet.”

Then, while you’re still stunned, she tugs you by the front of your hoodie and pulls you deeper into the alley — out of sight, out of breath, out of time.

The alley stretches longer than it should, or maybe you’re just too stunned to track distance. You’re half-walking, half-dragged, wrists still cuffed behind your back, tripping a little over your own feet. Her grip is firm on your hoodie, knuckles brushing the bare skin at your throat as she holds you close, like you’re some idiot who might run.

But you’re not running. You can’t. You wouldn’t even know where.

She stops suddenly and turns. The back wall of the alley is just brick and shadow, and your chest brushes hers with how close she’s pulled you.

You look down at her. She hasn’t said another word.

Just staring.

There’s a flicker in her eyes—something waiting to see what you'll do now that you’ve had a second to catch up.

“I—” you start, but your voice cracks.

She raises a brow. “You?”

You look away, chest tight. She doesn’t give you time to regroup.

“Still confused?” she asks softly. There’s no mockery this time. Only heat.

Your breath catches. The realization of who she is still hasn’t settled. She’s older now. Sharper. Everything that used to be soft has been carved into something dangerous. Something magnetic. But that smile, that lilt in her voice—it’s still there underneath, like a ghost.

You nod, slow. “Yeah. I mean... yeah.”

She leans in just enough to brush your cheek with hers, the cap brim skimming your temple. “I didn’t think you’d actually forget me,” she murmurs. “That’s the part that stings.”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

She exhales sharply and pulls back—less playful now. Her hand slides down your chest, fingers skimming the hem of your hoodie like she’s testing it for weak spots.

“You always used to stare when I wore your clothes,” she says. “I used to wonder if you knew.”

“I didn’t—”

“But now?” Her fingers curl at your waistband. “Now you’re doing more than staring.”

You flinch at the contact. Not because it hurts. Because it doesn’t.

And that scares the hell out of you.

She tugs your hoodie up with both hands, exposing your stomach. Her eyes drop there. You’re breathing too fast. Your arms are still behind you, and she hasn’t even loosened the cuffs.

“You’re really not going to say anything?” she asks, voice quieter, throatier now.

“I’m trying to figure out if I’m hallucinating,” you admit.

She lets out a small laugh. “You’re not. You’re just in trouble.”

Then she drops to her knees.

Your brain lurches.

“Wait—” you start, but she’s already unbuttoning your jeans, slow, fingers confident. Not rushed. Not uncertain.

You look down at her. Her expression is pure mischief, tempered by something hotter. Hungrier.

She doesn’t break eye contact as she pulls your zipper down.

“Ning,” you say her name like it slipped out without permission.

She stills. Just for a second.

Her eyes flash.

“You weren’t supposed to say it yet,” she whispers.

And then her hand is inside your waistband.

Everything in you goes tight.

You stagger slightly, cuffed hands straining against the metal behind you. “Shit—”

She hushes you with a single glance.

“You’re not in control right now,” she says, fingers wrapping around your cock. “So don’t act like you are.”

You groan as she strokes you once, slow. Then again, firmer.

The heat in your stomach is immediate.

You feel fucking helpless—cornered, locked up, twisted in place by memory and need and whatever this is becoming.

“I’m gonna ruin you,” she says, almost to herself. “I didn’t plan to. I just... saw you. And you didn’t recognize me. And I thought, fuck it.”

Her thumb swipes across the head of your cock and you nearly choke on a moan.

“And now,” she adds, voice like a promise, “I’m not stopping until I’ve made sure you never forget me again.”

She’s still got you cuffed. Wrists locked tight behind your back. Chest heaving. Jeans half-off. And she’s looking up at you like this is the first time she’s ever seen something worth worshiping.

And for a second—one long, blistering second—you feel powerful.

But then she tilts her head, and you realize she’s in control of everything. Even that. Especially that.

She gives your cock a slow stroke, base to tip. Her thumb presses down against the vein with maddening pressure before circling the head with just enough slick to make your knees almost buckle.

You hiss, breath jerking out of you like she punched the air from your lungs. “Fuck…”

She hums like it’s a satisfied answer.

Then leans in, just close enough for her breath to graze the tip of your cock without letting her mouth touch.

You twitch in her hand. Your whole body feels strung up, wired. She’s barely done anything and already you’re starting to break apart.

“You’re quieter than I expected,” she murmurs, voice low and sweet and unbothered. “I figured you’d talk more.”

You try. You really do. But the words catch on your tongue.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, thumb brushing lazily under the head. “Too much?” Her tone is soft mockery, but there’s something beneath it. Warm. Intimate. A little cruel.

“You’re fucking insane,” you manage.

“I’m thorough,” she corrects, still smiling, still not letting up.

She tightens her grip for a moment—not to hurt, just enough to command your attention—and then strokes you again, slower. Like she’s savoring it. Like she’s tasting the reaction before even taking you in.

You press your back to the wall, legs shaking. “You’re seriously just gonna… do this? In an alley?”

“You want me to stop?”

You hesitate.

She waits, gaze never leaving your face.

“…No,” you admit.

There it is. That wicked little grin spreads like wildfire. “Good boy.”

The phrase lands harder than it should.

You don’t even like being called that.

But when she says it—

God.

You don’t get to dwell. Because she shifts forward on her knees and finally puts her mouth on you.

No warning. No build-up. Just heat and pressure and wet, perfect suction. Her lips seal around the head and she sinks down slow—inch by agonizing inch—until her nose is pressed against your skin and your knees are fucking shaking.

You grunt, hips twitching despite yourself, and she lets out a low hum like she’s encouraging it.

Her tongue works you like she remembers every sensitive spot you never told anyone about. She bobs once, twice—then pulls off with a wet pop that makes your head thunk against the wall.

You’re gasping now. Hard.

“I said don’t act like you’re in control,” she murmurs, wiping the corner of her mouth with her thumb. “That means no thrusting.”

“I didn’t—”

She cuts you off by wrapping her mouth around you again, this time faster. Her hands settle on your thighs, fingers splayed like anchors, and you get the message: stay still.

And you try.

But she’s relentless. She sucks like she’s proving something. Like she’s been thinking about this. Like she needs to know what sounds you’ll make when she finally pushes you past the edge.

Your cuffs bite into your wrists with every shaky breath. Your spine’s bowed tight. Vision blurring. You moan—loud this time—and her eyes flick up to watch your face while she does it again.

It’s unbearable.

And fucking perfect.

“Ning—” you breathe, but she doesn’t let you finish.

Instead, she pulls off and rises to her feet in one fluid motion, grabbing your jaw with one hand as she leans in, lips just brushing yours.

“I want you to remember something,” she whispers.

You nod, dazed. “Anything.”

She bites your lower lip. Not gentle. Not cruel. Just enough.

“You don’t come,” she says. “Not until I say.”

You groan, hips jerking forward. She slaps your stomach lightly with the back of her hand.

“Don’t test me,” she says.

You believe her.

She shoves your jeans the rest of the way down and kicks your ankles apart. Her hands are rougher now—impatient, greedy—and you can’t stop the shiver that runs through you when she grabs your cock again and gives it a possessive pump.

You’re leaking. Desperate. Your brain’s not working.

And she knows it.

“Didn’t think I’d come back looking like this, did you?” she mutters as her hand works you with firm, punishing strokes. “Thought I’d stay small and sweet forever, huh?”

You pant, shaking your head. “I didn’t think—I wasn’t—”

She cuts you off by squeezing right under the head until your legs nearly give out.

“Quiet,” she says. “Let me enjoy you.”

You fall silent. What else can you do?

Your breath comes in shallow bursts. Her hand is merciless. She jerks you off with all the control in the world, letting your tip brush her stomach every time your hips jerk forward like you’re chasing friction.

And then, right when your abs start to tighten and the pressure starts to crest, she stops.

Lets go.

Steps back.

You choke.

“No, no, don’t—”

She tuts. “I said don’t come. You were getting close.”

You nod furiously. Too fast. “I didn’t. I swear.”

“Good.”

Then, without breaking eye contact, she sinks to the ground again and opens her mouth, tongue out, eyes gleaming.

You make a sound that’s not even human.

But before she lets you in, she says one more thing:

“If you so much as twitch without permission…” She drags her tongue up the underside of your cock. “I’ll stop. And you’ll walk home like this.”

You nod.

She smirks.

And then she starts again—faster this time.

No teasing.

No mercy.

And you realize you’re going to die in this alley.

Or worse—survive, and never stop thinking about this moment for the rest of your fucking life.

You don't know how long she keeps you there.

It could be seconds. Minutes. Your sense of time’s completely shredded—dissolved somewhere between the way her mouth moves and the way your arms are still cuffed, tension building in your spine like a snapped wire just waiting to recoil.

She’s working you like she owns you now.

And maybe she does.

Because you can’t remember ever being this hard, this desperate, this fucked up over someone with nothing but a mouth and a voice and a memory she’s dangling just out of reach.

You try not to move. You try not to breathe wrong. But it’s getting harder every time her tongue slides under the head and she sucks, cheeks hollowing like she’s draining the resistance right out of your body.

You whimper—actually whimper—and she pulls off again, lips wet, spit stringing from her mouth to your tip. She grins like she’s proud of the mess she’s making.

“Still holding it in?” she asks, breathless.

You nod, too frantic to speak.

“Good boy,” she murmurs again. “Let’s see how long that lasts.”

She rises without warning and pulls your hoodie the rest of the way off, the fabric catching at your elbows while your wrists are still cuffed. You stumble slightly, exposed, vulnerable, the damp heat of the alley clinging to your skin. Your cock’s still out, still leaking, pulsing with every heartbeat.

You’re fucking ruined, and she hasn’t even taken off her uniform yet.

She shoves you back against the wall, hard enough that it knocks the wind out of you for a second. Her hand lands flat on your chest to keep you there.

“You always thought you were the careful one,” she says. “But look at you.”

You meet her eyes. There’s something in them—wild, electric—but under that, something else. Something that flickers the moment your gaze softens.

She sees it too. And it pisses her off.

“Don’t,” she snaps, voice dropping. “Don’t give me that look like I’m still the girl you remember. I’m not. I’m the one you forgot.”

“I didn’t—”

“Shut up.”

Her mouth is on yours before you can argue. Hot. Messy. Nothing delicate about it. Her teeth drag against your bottom lip. Her tongue pushes in like it belongs there. You kiss back like you’re drowning.

Because you are.

You lean into it, as much as your cuffs will allow, and she moans—actual sound this time, full and guttural—and fuck, it does something to you. The way she grinds against your thigh, still in those tight navy pants, breath catching, like she’s the one coming undone now.

You chase that.

She breaks the kiss with a gasp and shoves her fingers into your hair, gripping hard. “You think you can turn this on me?”

You nod. Then shake your head. You don’t even know what you’re agreeing to anymore.

She laughs. “Pathetic.”

But she doesn’t sound mad. Not really.

She steps back, grabs your jaw, turns your face to the side. You feel her mouth on your neck, teeth scraping skin like she’s trying to mark you. And she might be. You wouldn’t stop her.

You’d let her do anything right now.

She palms your cock again. Just once. Just enough to remind you how fucking close you are.

“Don’t beg,” she whispers. “It won’t work.”

You almost laugh. But then her other hand snakes between your legs and cups your balls—gentle at first, then not—and the sound you make isn’t laughter at all.

“Sensitive,” she murmurs, almost admiring. “God, you always were.”

You want to say something. Anything.

But then she reaches behind herself and undoes her belt with one smooth pull. It clinks to the pavement, loud in the quiet. Your mouth goes dry.

She keeps her eyes on yours as she tugs her pants down—just enough to sit low on her hips. Her underwear’s black, soft cotton. No lace. No drama.

But you can already see the damp patch spreading across it.

Your breath stutters.

She notices.

“Touch me and I’ll break your fingers,” she says.

Your wrists are still cuffed.

You couldn’t even if you tried.

And that makes it worse.

She presses against you, crotch to thigh, grinding slowly, her slick soaking through. She grabs your jaw again and kisses you hard, biting at your tongue this time like she’s daring you to flinch.

You don’t.

She pulls back.

“You’re shaking.”

You are.

“So close it hurts?” she whispers, hand sliding between your bodies, brushing over your cock again with maddening care.

You nod, jaw tight.

She strokes you twice—firm, slow, cruel.

Then stops again.

You groan. Actually groan.

“Ning…”

She smirks. “Say that again.”

You hesitate.

“Say it.”

“…Ning.”

She kisses your throat. “Louder.”

“Ning.”

She strokes again. You thrust helplessly into her grip.

“Tell me how much you missed me.”

“I—”

She squeezes. Your breath catches.

“Tell me.”

“I missed you,” you gasp. “Fuck, I missed you.”

She hums, pleased. “Good boy.”

She doesn’t let you come.

Not yet.

Instead, she turns you around again—slow, intentional—and presses your chest to the wall.

You feel her unzip her own pants fully behind you, hear the shift of fabric.

Her hand reaches between your legs, lifts your cock from behind, jerking it with ruthless control while she ruts herself against your ass, panting, soaking, still half-clothed, the two of you hidden in this goddamn alley like feral animals.

And when you twitch again—when your body starts to seize from the edge—

She stops.

Again.

“Still not yet,” she whispers in your ear.

You let out a broken noise. Barely a word. Barely human.

She licks the shell of your ear, lips brushing the curve with something almost tender.

And just when you think she’s done—

She unlocks the cuffs.

Letting your arms fall forward. Numb. Shaking.

And then, stepping back into your line of sight, she says:

“Your turn.”

She’s in front of you now. Pants undone. Shirt still tucked in, badge still gleaming, like this is still her scene.

But the second the cuffs click open, something shifts.

Not in the air. Not in her stance.

In you.

And she knows it. You see it flicker in her eyes the moment your arms fall forward, wrists red from where she held you. She straightens, but doesn’t move back. Doesn’t run. Just watches.

You step forward.

Slow.

Measured.

You reach for her face — not rough, not sweet — just certain. Fingers curling under her jaw, thumb brushing over the corner of her mouth, still wet from everything she just did to you.

“You don’t get to start something like that,” you murmur, “and walk away when it turns.”

She smiles like she doesn’t believe you.

But she doesn’t stop you either.

You kiss her.

And this time it’s yours.

She makes a sound — a small surprised breath against your lips — and you don’t let up. You grab her wrist with your free hand and shove it above her head, pinning it to the brick behind her. She gasps, and that’s when you use the moment to step between her legs, pressing into the wet heat of her core.

Her hips twitch.

"Already soaked," you whisper against her lips. "And you’ve barely even been touched."

She grins like she’s still the one in control. “You’re not that scary.”

“Good,” you say. “I’m not trying to scare you.”

Your mouth dips to her neck. You bite her there — just hard enough to make her flinch, make her gasp — and she grabs at your shoulders, nails digging in.

She pushes back, but not to escape. It’s the kind of resistance that’s begging to be overpowered.

So you do.

You hike her leg up around your waist and push her hard against the wall. Your cock’s still out, still slick, and she’s right there, heat and wetness pressed to the length of you, still caged behind her underwear.

She pants in your ear.

“I thought you weren’t gonna beg,” you murmur.

She huffs, laughing into your shoulder. “I won’t.”

“Liar.”

You drag your hand between her legs and rub her through the soaked fabric, the friction making her tremble.

She tries to stay quiet.

You don’t let her.

You find the edge of her underwear and tug it aside — slowly, deliberately — baring her to the humid air and your fingers. She’s drenched. Swollen. Pulsing.

You slide two fingers inside without warning.

She bites your neck to keep from crying out.

“Still want to pretend you’re in charge?” you breathe against her hair, curling your fingers inside her just right.

She grabs your shirt like she might rip it.

But she doesn’t answer.

You pull your fingers out and shove them into her mouth.

“Suck.”

She does.

God, she does.

Her tongue swirls over them, lips tight, and you almost lose it right there. Her eyes flick up to yours, dark and defiant, and the sight of her like that — uniform half-undone, panting around your fingers, still pretending not to need you — it shatters something in you.

You yank her panties down with one hand and line yourself up.

She pulls off your fingers just long enough to mutter, “Don’t make me wait.”

You don’t.

You thrust into her in one deep, sharp motion — and she gasps, back arching hard against the wall, legs tightening around your hips like she’s trying to keep you inside forever.

You brace one arm behind her back and fuck into her — deep, steady, mean. No softness. Just the sound of your hips slamming into hers, wet and filthy and real.

She moans into your neck, biting to muffle it, and you feel her walls clench around you.

You kiss her again, devouring her moans, your fingers still holding her jaw as you rut into her like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do.

She whimpers — actually whimpers — and that’s when you know.

She’s close.

So you stop.

Dead still.

Her head jerks back in shock. “What—”

You smile. “You don’t get to come yet.”

She groans, hips rolling, trying to chase the friction.

You pull out halfway and slam back in, slow and punishing.

Her voice breaks.

“Please.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Say it again.”

She stares, defiant.

You pull out. All the way.

“No—fuck, fine—please. Don’t stop.”

You lean in close, breath against her lips. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

And then you give her what she begged for.

You pound into her, this time faster, deeper — all frustration and heat and all the things she stirred up the second she walked into your life again. You watch her come undone — nails scraping your skin, body trembling, voice cracking into gasps and moans she can’t hide anymore.

When she breaks, it’s messy.

Loud.

Raw.

Her head drops to your shoulder, and she curses your name like it hurts.

You hold her through it. Fuck her through it.

And when you finally let yourself go — when you come inside her so deep you swear you forget your own name — it’s like everything goes still.

Like the world narrows to the two of you in this alley. Tangled. Sweaty. Shaking.

You stay there, forehead pressed to hers, breath mixing in the sticky air.

Neither of you says a word for a long time.

You’re still buried deep inside her when her breath starts to steady. Her grip on your back loosens, legs falling slightly from around your waist, but you don’t move. You’re not done.

Not even close.

You lean in, voice a low rasp against her ear. “Don’t think that was it.”

She shivers. “No?”

You draw your hips back slowly — not out, just enough for her to feel the drag — and then slam forward, sharp and brutal, knocking a gasp out of her.

Her hands scramble against your shoulders. “F–fuck—”

“Keep up,” you growl, catching both her wrists and pinning them above her head again. She’s slick, trembling, stretched to her limit, but her expression is wild now — open and needy, every bit of her screaming yes even if her mouth won’t.

You move again. Harder. A brutal rhythm, each thrust landing with obscene sound. Her body jerks with the force, head falling back against the wall, mouth parted in shock as you fuck her like you’re trying to break her in.

And maybe you are.

Her cuffs dangle forgotten near your feet. Her badge is still clipped to her shirt — barely hanging on — and you can feel the heat of her through every point of contact.

You press your forehead to hers. “You’re mine right now.”

She moans, voice cracking. “Then take me.”

You do.

You grab one of her thighs and lift it again, angling her just right, and drive in deeper — punishing, relentless. She cries out, loud, raw, fingers clenching your forearm as her entire body bucks into yours.

“I missed this,” you mutter against her jaw. “You ruined me back then. And now you’re gonna pay for it.”

“Then shut up,” she snarls between gasps. “And fucking ruin me.”

You slam into her so hard she knocks the back of her head against the brick. Her eyes roll back, a stuttered curse flying from her lips, and you catch her by the waist before she can slump.

You flip her around again.

Face-first to the wall.

No warning.

She yelps — surprised — but arches her back, grinding her ass against your cock with a filthy little whimper like she was hoping you’d do this.

“Look at you,” you whisper, grabbing her hip. “Dripping down your legs and still begging for it.”

“Shut up,” she pants.

You spank her. Once. Sharp.

She gasps.

“Say please.”

“No.”

Another spank. This time harder.

Her breath shudders. Her thighs are slick. Her hands press flat to the brick like she needs it to stay upright.

“Say it.”

“…Please.”

You thrust back into her like a threat.

She screams.

You fuck her with everything you’ve been holding back — anger, memory, lust, the years between you crashing into a single vicious rhythm. Her moans are ragged, desperate, punched out of her with every slam of your hips. You snake a hand around to rub her clit and she jolts like you hit a nerve.

“Gonna come again?” you growl.

“Yes—yes—don’t stop—”

But you do stop.

She wails, slamming her hips back against you, trying to chase it.

You grab her by the hair and pull her upright, flush to your chest, your cock still buried inside her.

“Not yet.”

She’s sobbing with frustration — breathless, furious, soaked — and fuck if she doesn’t sound more turned on than ever.

“I hate you,” she pants.

You lick the shell of her ear. “No, you don’t.”

She laughs — broken, wrecked — and slams herself back onto your cock anyway.

You bite her shoulder and fuck her from behind, hand between her legs, working her clit with ruthless precision.

“Now,” you whisper. “Now you can come.”

And when she does—

She screams.

You hold her through it, riding her out while she clenches around you, shaking so hard you have to pin her against the wall just to keep her standing.

But you’re still hard.

And you’re not done.

Not until you’ve made sure she can’t walk out of this alley the same girl she was when she came in.

You slam your hips up into her, and the sound she makes is damn near broken. Her nails dig into your shoulders, then drag across your back as if she’s trying to mark you, but you barely register the sting. All you can focus on is the heat of her, the grip of her cunt, the way her voice cracks each time you hit just right.

You're fucking her like your sanity depends on it. Because maybe it does.

Her head falls back against the wall with a dull knock, and you lean in, lips grazing her jaw as you thrust harder, rougher. She’s soaking around you—wet, tight, relentless—and her breathless little gasps are nothing like the smug control she had earlier. You’ve got her unraveling now, squirming, writhing, clutching at you like she doesn’t know where the ground went.

“Eli—fuck—too deep—”

“Take it.”

You grit it out against her throat, biting down just below her ear. She whimpers, legs tightening around your waist, and your rhythm doesn’t falter. Not for a second. You’re inside her so deep it feels like there’s nothing else, no outside world, no heat, no alley—just this. Just her. Just the way she opens up around you like she was built for it.

She tries to grind her hips against you, tries to ride your cock even though you're the one in control now, but you pin her tighter to the wall with a savage snap of your hips that makes her cry out.

“You started this,” you growl. “You wanted my attention? You got it.”

Ningning moans, eyes fluttering open just long enough to meet yours—and god, there’s fire in them. Wild. Desperate. Beautiful. “Then don’t fucking stop,” she pants.

You don’t.

Your thrusts turn ruthless—deep, punishing, hungry. Her nails are leaving lines down your back, her legs are trembling around your waist, and her moans have turned hoarse, like she’s losing her voice with every pulse of your cock inside her.

You feel the way her body starts to lock up, how her pussy flutters around you like she’s on the edge again. But this time you don’t give her permission.

This time, you pull out.

She gasps, eyes wide, like you just yanked air from her lungs.

“What—? Eli, no—”

You flip her around before she can protest, her chest smacking against the rough wall, hands scrambling to steady herself. Your hand snakes into her hair, not cruelly, but firm—anchoring her in place as your other hand guides yourself back in from behind. She sobs out your name, high-pitched and cracked, and you bury yourself in her again with one brutal thrust.

She screams.

Not from pain—from need. From shock. From sheer fucking want.

Your hand slides down her spine, pressing between her shoulder blades as you fuck her into the bricks, her cheek scraping slightly against the surface as she whines, helpless now, wrecked.

You lean in close, lips to her ear. “You made such a big deal about control earlier,” you breathe. “Thought you’d tease me a little, play the cop, make me squirm. But look at you now.”

She whimpers as your hand slips down, finds her clit, and circles it once. She almost crumples.

“You gonna come like this?” you ask. “Pinned, fucked stupid, dripping down your legs?”

She can’t speak. Just nods.

You spank her once—sharply, fast—watching the way her ass jiggles, the sound echoing off the alley walls. She gasps.

“You don’t get to come yet,” you whisper.

“Eli—”

“You’ll come when I tell you.”

She trembles.

You fuck her harder.

Each thrust is brutal now, no pretense left. Just bodies colliding. Just hips slamming. Just need. You feel her start to shake again, her walls clenching around you, her legs almost giving out.

She’s babbling now. “Please—fuck—please, let me—let me—”

You twist your fist in her hair and yank her back just enough to whisper, “Now.”

She comes like an explosion—loud, desperate, like her body’s folding in on itself. She clenches so hard around you it rips the orgasm from you too. You groan as you slam into her one last time and spill inside, filling her with every pulse, every twitch, until your whole body is pressed against hers and you’re both shaking.

Silence hits.

Just panting.

Heavy breathing, sweat dripping, the slow cooling of fevered skin.

You don’t let go of her right away.

You keep her there—against the wall, against your chest, arms around her waist now instead of her throat or hair. Her body sags against yours, boneless and quiet.

Then she laughs.

Soft. Wrecked. Beautiful.

“You’re fucking insane,” she whispers.

You press your lips to the nape of her neck. “You started it.”

Her giggle’s lazy now. Content. “Yeah,” she murmurs. “Guess I did.”

She leans back into you, breathing slowing, head resting against your shoulder now.

You don’t remember sliding down the wall. Just the way her body went soft against yours — like the fight had finally drained out of her, or maybe you’d both left the last of it in the air between you. Your knees give a little, and the next thing you know, you’re both on the ground, tangled in each other and sweat and the faint smell of city grime.

She’s half in your lap, legs still hooked loosely around you, head against your shoulder. Her cap is gone. Her shirt’s riding up, bra strap twisted. Your jeans are unzipped, your boxers sticky. Her thighs are a mess between them.

No one says anything for a while.

Just breath. Wind. The faint buzz of traffic somewhere distant. The world still exists out there — people living lives, eating dinners, watching dramas, never knowing two idiots just fucked each other half-conscious in the back corner of Gangnam.

Eventually, she shifts. Not much. Just a slow drag of her fingers along your arm, brushing past the edge of your sleeve like she’s testing if you’re real.

You let her.

Then you clear your throat. “You okay?”

She huffs a breath against your collarbone. “...Guess.”

“You were the one who cuffed me and dragged me into an alley.”

“And you liked it.”

You don't answer. Because yeah — you fucking did.

But there’s something quieter now, in the space between you. The adrenaline’s gone. The bravado too. She’s not the playful cop anymore. You’re not the half-lost, hoodie-clad boy wondering what the hell is going on.

You’re just… two people. With a long, messy, beautiful history stitched somewhere between the sweat and bruises.

“I didn’t think it would feel like that,” she murmurs.

“What?”

“All of it.” She swallows. “You. This.”

You look at her. Really look. There’s no smirk now. No sunglasses. No teasing voice. Just a girl with wrecked makeup and tangled hair, breathing slow in your arms, like she’s not sure what comes next.

“I still can’t believe it’s you,” you say.

Her lips twitch. “Then say my name.”

You hesitate.

And then, gently: “Ning.”

She closes her eyes. Just for a second. And when she opens them again, there’s something unguarded in her face. Something almost soft.

“God,” she mutters. “It really is you.”

You lean your head back against the wall. “Why didn’t you tell me right away?”

“Because I didn’t know if I wanted to.”

You look down.

She shrugs one bare shoulder. “You don’t owe me anything. I didn’t come back for closure or a grand reunion or some epic scene. I saw you. I was in a car—on my way somewhere I didn’t want to go—and I saw your face on the street like it hadn’t been ten years. And I thought... fuck it. Just once. Just one time.”

Her voice cracks a little on the last part. She catches it quick, breathes through it. But you notice.

And it sits in your chest like a stone.

“Ning…” you start, but she cuts you off.

“You didn’t write,” she says. Not angry. Just… honest. “After I moved. After that summer. You didn’t call. Didn’t try. And yeah, I know we were basically kids. But still.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. Hard.

“I thought you hated me,” you admit.

“I did.” She looks up at you. “But only because you stopped being the one thing I thought was real.”

Your stomach knots.

She sits up slowly, tugs at her shirt, fixes it absently. Not shy. Not modest. Just trying to breathe.

“I don’t know what this is,” she says finally, gesturing between you. “And I’m not asking for a label or an apology or a second chance. I just… I needed to see if you were still you.”

You don’t know what to say to that.

But you reach out anyway. Not with words — with your hand. You tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. The gesture’s awkward, a little clumsy, but she leans into it all the same.

“I’m sorry,” you say.

She nods. “Me too.”

Then, quietly: “Did you really not recognize me?”

You shake your head. “Not at first. But… I think some part of me did. Deep down.”

She exhales. “That’s something.”

You sit there together a while longer, legs tangled, bodies cooling. At some point, you pull your hoodie off and give it to her. She slips it on without a word, pulls the sleeves over her hands. The smell of sweat and sex and summer wraps around her like a second skin.

When she speaks again, her voice is almost sheepish. “I don’t really have anywhere to be tonight.”

You glance sideways. “That a question or a statement?”

“Bit of both.”

You hesitate. Then: “You want to come back with me?”

She raises a brow. “That a question or a statement?”

You smirk. “Bit of both.”

Her laugh is softer now. Real.

“Yeah,” she says after a pause. “I’d like that.”

You both stand, a little sore, a little slow. She adjusts the hoodie, and you zip your jeans. She takes your hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

And as you leave the alley — her beside you, not behind or ahead — you realize the night hasn’t cooled much.

But it feels different now.

Like maybe, just maybe, this isn’t over yet.

Not even close.

-------

Author’s Note: This started as a one-shot, but… I thought of leaving an open ending in case you like it. If this hits 1,000 notes, I’ll write the continuation. Thanks for reading!

[paz404]

City of Candles

Hanni Pham x male reader [13K words]

a/n: not quite sure if this is fluff or angst (probably a bit of both). It’s not really smut, though there are hints of it here and there.

Day One: Apocalypse

You're on your couch, controller in hand, when the first rumble of thunder rolls across the city like God clearing his throat. The weather app on your phone has been screaming warnings all week - some massive storm system churning up from the Gulf, promising to turn the weekend into an apocalyptic light show. You're actually looking forward to it. There's something cool about being safely inside while nature throws a tantrum outside your windows. It’s as if, inside your apartment, nothing from the outside world can really get in, can really reach far enough to unravel the quiet you’ve built here.

Your phone buzzes with a text from Danielle: "Hey! Emergency favor? My friend needs a place to crash this weekend because of the storm. Her Airbnb got canceled last minute. Can she stay at your place?"

You pause your game and actually consider it for a moment. Your roommate Jake moved out two weeks ago to live with his girlfriend, leaving the spare room empty except for a bed and some boxes you haven't bothered to move yet. The place feels too quiet without his constant stream of terrible jokes and questionable cooking experiments.

"Who is it?" you text back.

"Hanni! I've mentioned her before. She's traveling around before starting her career. Super sweet, you'll love her."

You do vaguely remember Danielle talking about some friend who was taking a gap year to see the world. Something about learning languages and having adventures that make your Netflix-and-takeout lifestyle seem embarrassingly mundane.

"Sure, why not. When's she coming?"

"OMG thank you! She'll be there around 6. You're the best!"

It's 3 PM now. You look around your apartment with the critical eye of someone who's about to have a stranger judging their living space. It's not terrible - you're not one of those guys who lives like a feral college student - but it's definitely bachelor-pad basic. Clean enough, but lacking any personality beyond your gaming setup and the collection of empty beer bottles you keep meaning to recycle.

You spend the next hour doing a speed clean that mostly involves shoving random items into closets and running a vacuum over the visible carpet. The spare room gets fresh sheets that smell like the lavender detergent your mom bought you in a misguided attempt to civilize your domestic life.

By 5:30, you're showered and wearing actual pants instead of the basketball shorts that constitute your weekend uniform. You've even put on a t-shirt without any stains, which feels like formal wear at this point.

The building's ancient intercom crackles to life at exactly 6:03 PM.

"Hi! It's Hanni, Danielle's friend?"

Her voice has this musical quality even through the shitty speaker system. You buzz her up and find yourself actually nervous, which is ridiculous. It's just some girl who needs a place to crash during a storm. No big deal.

You open the door before she can knock, and—

Fuck.

Okay, let's pause here for a moment, because you need to process what you're seeing. Danielle definitely undersold this situation when she said "super sweet." Standing in your hallway is quite possibly the most beautiful girl you've ever seen in person, and that includes the time you accidentally ended up at a fashion week after-party and felt like an anthropologist studying a different species.

Hanni Pham is petite - maybe 5'3" in the sneakers she's wearing - with long dark hair that somehow looks perfect despite the humidity that's been building all day. Her skin has this natural glow that girls probably spend hundreds of dollars trying to achieve with makeup. She's wearing high-waisted jeans and an oversized cardigan that manages to be both cozy and effortlessly stylish.

But it's her smile that really hits you. When she grins (and she's grinning right now as she looks up at you) her whole face transforms. It's one of those smiles that makes you want to say something funny just to see it again.

"You must be the famous roommate.”

"Famous might be overselling it," you reply, stepping aside to let her in. "I prefer 'locally notorious' or 'generally adequate.'"

She laughs - actually laughs, not just that polite chuckle people give when they're being nice - and the sound does something weird to your chest.

"I'm Hanni," she says, extending her hand like you're meeting at a business conference instead of your apartment doorway.

"I know," you say, shaking her hand and immediately noticing how soft her skin is. "Danielle's mentioned you. I'm—"

"The mysterious roommate who apparently has his life together enough to have a spare room on short notice," she interrupts with a teasing smile. "Danielle was very impressed by your domestic capabilities."

"Danielle has clearly never seen me try to fold a fitted sheet," you say, grabbing her suitcase. "But I can order takeout with the best of them, so we won't starve."

She follows you into the apartment, and you watch her take it all in. Your place suddenly feels inadequate under her gaze - not messy, but definitely lacking in sophistication. She doesn't seem to mind, though. If anything, she looks comfortable immediately, like she's one of those people who can adapt to any environment.

"This is really nice," she says, and she sounds genuine. "Much better than the hostel I was staying at last week in Austin. There was this guy who brought his guitar to the common room every night and knew exactly one and a half songs."

"Let me guess—'Wonderwall' and half of 'Sweet Caroline'?"

"Close. 'Wonderwall' and the first verse of 'Hey There Delilah.'" She drops onto your couch like she belongs there. "It was painful. I started taking long walks just to avoid the evening concert."

You find yourself grinning as you set her suitcase by the hallway. There's something immediately easy about talking to her, like you've known each other longer than thirty seconds.

"So Danielle says you're traveling around before starting your career," you say, settling into the armchair across from her. "What's the master plan?"

"Oh, there's no master plan," she says with a laugh. "That's kind of the point. I graduated in May and realized I had spent four years studying business management and had no idea what I actually wanted to do with my life. So instead of jumping straight into the corporate grind, I decided to see the world for a while."

"Business management?" You raise an eyebrow. "Let me guess: parental expectations?"

"Bingo." She tucks her legs under her on the couch. "Asian parents, you know? They had my life planned out from birth. Good grades, good college, good job, good marriage, good grandchildren. The whole timeline."

"And you said 'thanks but no thanks'?"

"More like 'thanks but maybe later.'" She runs her hand through her hair, and you try not to notice how the movement makes her cardigan slip slightly off one shoulder. "I'm not rebelling exactly. I just want to figure out who I am when I'm not following someone else's script."

There's something refreshing about her honesty. Most people your age are either pretending they have everything figured out or wallowing in quarter-life crisis melodrama. Hanni seems genuinely comfortable with not knowing what comes next.

"So where have you been so far?" you ask.

Her face lights up. "God, everywhere. I started in California—spent a month in San Francisco, then drove down the coast. Did the whole Southwest thing, then back up to Colorado for a while. I was in New Orleans for two weeks, which was incredible but also nearly killed my liver."

"And now you're here because...?"

"I'm flying to Germany next month to start learning the language properly. And then this storm happened..." She gestures vaguely toward the window, where the sky is getting increasingly ominous.

"Germany, huh? Then what?"

"Portugal, maybe Brazil after that. I'm trying to learn German and Portuguese simultaneously, which my brain is not appreciating." She laughs. "But I figure if I'm going to wander around aimlessly, I might as well collect some languages while I do it."

You're impressed despite yourself. While you've been grinding through your marketing job and spending weekends recovering from the week, she's been living like a character in one of those indie movies about finding yourself.

"That's actually amazing," you say, and you mean it. "Most people just talk about doing something like that."

"Most people are smarter than me," she replies with that killer smile. "They understand things like 'financial security' and 'long-term planning.'"

"Overrated concepts," you say. "I've got both of those things and I still spend my Saturdays wondering if I'm wasting my life."

She tilts her head, studying you with those dark eyes. "Are you? Wasting your life?"

It's a more serious question than the conversation has been up to this point, and you find yourself actually thinking about it instead of deflecting with humor.

"I don't know," you admit. "I've got a decent job, this place, good friends. On paper it all looks fine. But sometimes I feel like I'm just going through the motions, you know? Like I'm waiting for my real life to start."

"And when do you think that happens?" she asks. "The real life part?"

"No idea. Maybe when I figure out what I actually want instead of just what I'm supposed to want."

She nods like this makes perfect sense. "That's exactly why I left. Everyone kept asking me what my five-year plan was, and I realized I couldn't even figure out what I wanted for lunch most days."

Another crack of thunder rolls overhead, closer this time. The light coming through your windows has taken on that weird greenish quality that means the storm is getting serious.

"Speaking of lunch," you say, standing up, "or dinner at this point—are you hungry? I was planning to order something before the weather gets too crazy for delivery."

"Starving," she admits. "I haven't eaten since this morning. What are the options?"

You grab your phone and start scrolling through delivery apps. "Thai, Chinese, pizza, Mexican, Indian... There's this Vietnamese place that's actually incredible if you're feeling adventurous."

"Vietnamese sounds perfect," she says immediately. "I haven't had good pho in weeks."

"You know pho?" You look up from your phone, surprised.

"I'm half Vietnamese," she says with an amused smile. "Did Danielle not mention that? Pham's my dad's name."

"She definitely left out some key details," you mutter while pulling up the Vietnamese restaurant's menu, feeling slightly embarrassed. Of course Hanni Pham is Vietnamese. You're usually more observant than this, but something about her presence is scrambling your normal social awareness.

"It's okay," she says, clearly picking up on your embarrassment. "I get it all the time.” She leans forward to look at your phone screen. "Oh my god, they have bun bo hue. Order that for me, please. I've been craving it for months."

"You got it." You add it to the cart, then look up at her. "Well, the dual nationality thing must be cool, I guess.”

"Sometimes. I got really good at code-switching depending on which side of the family I was with." She grins.

"And? Which one is actually you?"

She's quiet for a moment, considering. "Both, I think. Neither. Someone new." She looks at you directly. "That's part of why I'm doing this whole travel thing. Trying to figure out who I am when I'm not performing for anyone."

There's something vulnerable in the admission, and you feel a unexpected urge to tell her that whoever she is right now, sitting on your couch talking about identity and soup preferences, she's pretty fucking great.

Instead, you finish placing the food order and set your phone aside. "Well, for what it's worth, the version of you that's here right now seems pretty authentic to me."

She gives you a look that's hard to read - surprised, maybe? Like she wasn't expecting you to say something that direct.

"Thanks," she says softly. "That's... actually really nice to hear."

The moment hangs between you for a few seconds before another rumble of thunder breaks it. This one's close enough to rattle the windows.

"Jesus," you mutter, walking over to look outside. The sky has gone full apocalypse mode - dark green-black clouds rolling in like something out of a disaster movie. "This is going to be intense."

Hanni joins you at the window, standing close enough that you can smell her perfume - light and citrusy that makes you want to lean closer.

"I've never been in a real storm like this," she admits.

"You're in for a treat," you say. "We'll probably lose power at some point."

"Seriously?"

"Oh yeah. When storms like this hit, the grid just gives up." You glance at her. "You're not scared of storms, are you?"

"No, just... inexperienced." She looks up at you with a grin. "You'll have to teach me how to survive a proper thunderstorm."

There's something in the way she says it that makes your pulse quicken. Maybe it's the proximity, or the intimate lighting as the sky darkens, or just the general chemistry that's been building since she walked in. But suddenly the idea of being trapped in your apartment with Hanni Pham for three days doesn't seem like an inconvenience at all.

"First lesson," you say, forcing yourself to focus on the conversation instead of how close she's standing, "stock up on essentials before the power goes out."

"Which are?"

"Candles, flashlights, batteries, booze." You tick them off on your fingers. "I've got the first three covered, but we might need to make a liquor store run."

"What kind of booze?" she asks, clearly amused by your priorities.

"Wine for sophisticated storm watching, whiskey for if things get really bad, beer for everything else."

"You've really thought this through."

"I've lived here for three years. You learn to prepare for these things."

She's still standing close, looking up at you with those dark eyes, and you're starting to realize that the storm outside might not be the only dangerous weather system you need to worry about this weekend.

Your phone buzzes with a delivery notification, breaking the moment.

"Food's here," you announce, probably more loudly than necessary.

"Perfect timing," she says, but she doesn't immediately move away from the window. "Before we eat, should we make that liquor store run? It's only going to get worse out there."

You check the time on your phone. 7:15 PM. "Good call. There's a place around the corner that stays open late."

"Let me grab my jacket," she says, heading for her suitcase.

Five minutes later you're both hurrying down the sidewalk as the wind picks up. Leaves and debris are starting to swirl around, and the air has that electric feeling that comes right before a big storm hits.

———

The liquor store is busy (apparently you're not the only ones with the idea to stock up before the weather gets nasty). Hanni gravitates toward the wine section while you grab a bottle of decent whiskey and a twelve-pack of beer.

"What do you think?" she asks, holding up a bottle of red wine. "I don't know much about wine, but this one has a pretty label."

You look at the bottle - some mid-range Cabernet that's probably perfectly fine. "Pretty label is a valid selection criterion," you say. "But if we're going to be storm-bound for three days, we might want something a little more special."

You lead her over to a section with slightly better wines and pick up a bottle of Spanish Tempranillo. "This one's got character. Good for drinking while watching the world end outside your window."

"You really know wine?" she asks, looking impressed.

"I know just enough to sound like I do," you admit. "My ex was into wine, so I picked up some basics through osmosis."

"Ah, the ex." Her tone is light, but you catch something in her expression. "Recent?"

"Few months ago. Nothing dramatic, just... ran out of steam." You realize you probably shouldn't be talking about your ex-girlfriend to the beautiful girl you just met, but Hanni seems genuinely curious rather than uncomfortable.

"That's the worst kind of breakup," she says sympathetically. "When there's no big fight or betrayal, just the slow realization that you're not right for each other."

"Exactly." You're surprised by how well she gets it. "How about you? Leaving a trail of broken hearts across America?"

She laughs. "Hardly. I was dating someone senior year, but that ended when I decided to do this whole travel thing. He wasn't exactly supportive of the idea."

"His loss," you say, and immediately regret how that sounds. Too forward, too obvious.

But Hanni just smiles. "Thanks. I think so too."

You grab the wine and head to the checkout, where the cashier is grumbling about having to stay open during the storm.

"Y'all better get home quick," he says as he rings you up. "Weather service just issued a severe thunderstorm warning. Gonna be nasty out there."

As if to emphasize his point, a flash of lightning illuminates the store windows, followed immediately by a boom of thunder that makes everyone jump.

"Shit," you mutter, grabbing the bag. "We need to move."

The walk back to your apartment is like something out of a movie. The wind is whipping hard enough to make walking difficult, and the first fat raindrops are starting to fall. By the time you reach your building, you're both laughing breathlessly at the absurdity of racing a storm.

"That was exhilarating," Hanni says as you climb the stairs to your floor, her cheeks flushed from the wind and exercise.

"That was just the warm-up," you tell her, unlocking your door. "The real show hasn't started yet."

Inside, your apartment feels like a sanctuary. The food delivery is waiting outside your door (the delivery guy apparently decided not to stick around for a tip in this weather) and you bring everything inside just as the rain really starts coming down.

"Perfect timing," Hanni says, already unpacking the Vietnamese food on your coffee table.

You open the bottle of wine while she sets up the food, and within minutes you're both settled on the couch with steaming bowls of soup and glasses of the Tempranillo.

"Oh my god," Hanni moans after her first spoonful of bun bo hue. "This is exactly what I needed. I don't know how they get the broth so perfect."

"Good choice?" you ask, settling back with your own bowl.

"Amazing choice. You clearly know your Vietnamese food."

"I know good food in general," you say. "It's one of my few useful skills."

Outside, the storm is really starting to intensify. Rain is hammering against the windows, and the lightning is getting more frequent. The thunder is almost constant now, a low rumble punctuated by sharp cracks that make the building shake slightly.

"Jesus," Hanni says, looking toward the windows. "Is it supposed to sound like that?"

"That's normal for a storm this size," you tell her, but privately you're a little impressed by how intense it's getting. "We're safe in here. These old buildings are built to last."

She doesn't look entirely convinced, but she's trying to play it cool. You notice her flinch slightly at a particularly loud thunder clap.

"First real storm nerves?" you ask gently.

"Maybe a little," she admits. "I know it's silly, but I keep expecting something to fall on the building."

"Not silly at all. The first time I experienced a storm like this, I spent the whole night awake thinking the roof was going to cave in."

"Really?"

"Really. I was convinced every lightning flash was going to fry the building's electrical system and trap me in a powerless hellscape."

"And did it?"

"Well, the power did go out around midnight, but the hellscape part was mostly in my imagination."

She laughs, relaxing slightly. "Okay, so what actually happens when the power goes out?"

"Candles, flashlights, and a lot of sitting around in the dark talking. It's actually kind of nice once you get used to it. Very... primitive."

"Primitive how?"

You consider how to explain it. "Like, suddenly all the modern distractions disappear. No TV, no internet, no phone charging. You're just stuck with whoever you're with and whatever conversation you can make."

"That doesn't sound so bad," she says, taking a sip of wine. "Especially with good company."

There's something in the way she says it that makes you look at her more carefully. She's got this slight smile playing around her lips, and she's holding your gaze in a way that feels deliberate.

Okay, you think. So that's definitely flirting.

"The company seems pretty good so far," you agree, matching her tone.

"Just pretty good?" She raises an eyebrow. "I'll have to work on that."

Before you can respond, there's a brilliant flash of lightning followed immediately by a crack of thunder so loud it feels like it's inside the apartment. Both of you jump, and then you're laughing at your own reactions.

"Okay, that one was close," you admit.

"How close is close?" Hanni asks, moving slightly closer to you on the couch.

"Close enough that we're probably going to lose power soon," you say, acutely aware of the warmth of her leg against yours.

As if summoned by your words, the lights flicker.

"Shit," you mutter.

They flicker again, holding for a moment, then go out completely.

The apartment plunges into darkness so complete you can't see your hand in front of your face. The only illumination comes from the occasional lightning flashes outside.

"Well," Hanni's voice comes from beside you, sounding remarkably calm, "I guess this is where the primitive part starts."

You fumble for your phone's flashlight and use it to navigate to the kitchen, where you keep the emergency candles. Within a few minutes, you've got several candles lit around the living room, casting everything in warm, flickering light.

"Better?" you ask, settling back onto the couch.

"Much," she says. "This is actually kind of romantic."

She says it casually, but there's something underneath the words that makes your pulse quicken.

"Romantic disaster preparedness," you say. "I should put that on my dating profile."

"You'd get a lot of matches during storm season."

"Is that your type? Guys who are prepared for natural disasters?"

She pretends to consider this seriously. "I don't know. I'm still figuring out what my type is."

“You've really never figured out your type?"

"I mean, I thought I had. But then I realized all my previous relationships were based on what I thought I was supposed to want, not what I actually wanted."

"What did you think you were supposed to want?"

"You know, the whole package. Ambitious guy, stable career, five-year plan, ready to settle down and start checking off life milestones." She takes a sip of wine. "Turns out that bores me to tears."

"And what do you actually want?"

She's quiet for a moment, looking at you in the candlelight. "I'm still figuring that out. But I think I want someone who doesn't have it all figured out either. Someone who's okay with not knowing what comes next."

There's something charged in the way she's looking at you, like she's not just talking in hypotheticals anymore.

"That sounds terrifying and appealing in equal measure," you say.

"The best things usually are."

The storm outside is reaching its peak now. The rain is coming down so hard it sounds like static, and the lightning is almost continuous. But inside your apartment, with the candles flickering and the wine starting to warm your blood, it feels incredibly intimate.

"Can I ask you something?" Hanni says, shifting to face you more directly on the couch.

"Shoot."

"When Danielle asked if I could stay here, did she mention anything about... me? Specifically?"

"Just that you were sweet and I'd like you," you say. "Why?"

"Nothing, just..." She trails off, looking suddenly unsure of herself.

"Just what?"

"I think she might have been matchmaking," she admits with a slightly embarrassed laugh. "She's been trying to set me up with people for months, saying I need to stop being so picky and give nice guys a chance."

"And you think I'm the latest nice guy she's throwing at you?"

"Are you? A nice guy?"

You consider the question. "I try to be. Though I'm starting to think 'nice' might not be what you're looking for."

"What makes you say that?"

"Just a feeling," you say, holding her gaze. "You don't strike me as someone who wants safe and predictable."

"You're right," she says quietly. "I don't."

The admission hangs between you in the candlelit air. You're both aware that the conversation has shifted into more dangerous territory, but neither of you seems inclined to back away from it.

"So what do you want?" you ask.

She's quiet for a long moment, looking down at her wine glass. When she looks back up, there's something different in her expression: more open, more vulnerable.

"I want to feel something," she says simply. "I've spent so much time doing what I was supposed to do, being who I was supposed to be. I want to know what it feels like to just... follow my instincts for once."

"And what are your instincts telling you right now?"

She sets her wine glass down on the coffee table and turns to face you fully. "That this is probably a terrible idea, but I don't care."

"What's a terrible idea?"

Instead of answering, she reaches out and traces her finger along your jawline. Her touch is soft but deliberate.

"This," she whispers.

You catch her hand in yours, holding it against your cheek. "Hanni..."

"I know," she says. "We just met. This is crazy. I'm leaving in three days. There are probably a dozen reasons why we shouldn't."

"Probably more than a dozen."

"So why does it feel like the most natural thing in the world?"

You don't have an answer for that, because she's right. Despite having known her for less than three hours, this feels inevitable somehow. Like you've been moving toward this moment since she first smiled at you in the hallway.

"Maybe," you say carefully, "we don't overthink it. Maybe we just see what happens."

"What happens if what happens is that I fall for you and then have to leave?"

"What happens if we spend the next three days being careful and polite and miss out on something amazing?"

She considers this, her thumb stroking across your cheek where she's still touching you.

"You make a good point," she says.

"I have my moments."

"So what are you suggesting? That we just... go with it?"

"I'm suggesting that we're two adults who are clearly attracted to each other, trapped in an apartment during the storm of the century, with excellent wine and nowhere else to be." You turn your head slightly to press a kiss to her palm. "I'm suggesting that three days can be a lifetime if you let them be."

Her breath catches at the kiss, and you feel something shift in the air between you.

"Three days," she repeats.

"Three days."

"And then I leave."

"And then you leave."

"And we don't make any promises or plans or expectations."

"None."

She's quiet for another moment, studying your face in the candlelight. Then she smiles - that incredible smile that made you forget how to think when you first saw it.

"Okay," she says. "Three days."

And then she's kissing you.

It starts soft, tentative, like she's testing the waters. But when you respond, pulling her closer and deepening the kiss, she melts into you with a little sigh that makes your heart race.

She tastes like wine and something uniquely her, and when she runs her tongue along your lower lip, you actually groan against her mouth.

"Fuck," you breathe when you finally break apart.

"Good fuck or bad fuck?" she asks, her forehead resting against yours.

"Very, very good fuck."

She grins and kisses you again, harder this time, her hands tangling in your hair. You pull her closer until she's practically in your lap, and the feel of her body against yours is intoxicating.

Outside, the storm rages on, but you're barely aware of it anymore. All your attention is focused on the girl in your arms, the way she kisses like she's hungry for it, the little sounds she makes when you trace your lips along her neck.

"This is crazy," she murmurs against your ear, but her hands are already working at the buttons of your shirt.

"Completely insane," you agree, sliding your hands under her cardigan to find the soft skin of her waist.

"We should probably slow down," she says, even as she's pushing your shirt off your shoulders.

"Absolutely," you say, lifting her cardigan over her head. "Very sensible."

She's wearing a simple black bra underneath, and the sight of her in the candlelight makes your mouth go dry. She's even more beautiful than you imagined, all soft curves and smooth skin.

"Fuck, Hanni," you breathe, running your hands over her shoulders, her collarbones, the tops of her breasts.

She arches into your touch, her head falling back as you trail kisses down her throat. "This is definitely not slowing down," she gasps.

"Do you want to stop?" you ask, pulling back to look at her.

Her eyes are dark with desire, her lips swollen from kissing. "God, no," she whispers. "I want... I want you to touch me everywhere."

The raw honesty in her voice undoes something in your chest. You cup her face in your hands and kiss her deeply, pouring all your want and wonder into it.

When you break apart, you're both breathing hard.

"Bedroom?" you suggest.

"Bedroom," she agrees.

You blow out most of the candles, leaving just one to light your way, and lead her down the hallway to your room. In the doorway, she stops and looks around.

"This is very you," she says with a smile.

"Is that good or bad?"

"It's perfect," she says, and then she's kissing you again, walking you backward toward the bed.

You sit on the edge and pull her between your legs, your hands settling on her hips. She runs her fingers through your hair, scratching lightly at your scalp in a way that makes you shiver.

"I can't believe this is happening," she says softly.

"Having second thoughts?"

"No. It's just... I don't usually do this. Sleep with someone I just met."

"We don't have to—"

"I want to," she interrupts. "God, I really want to. It's just new for me."

"What's new? The one-night stand thing?"

"The following-my-instincts thing," she says. "I've never just... acted on attraction like this before."

You smooth your hands up her sides, feeling the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of her bra. "How does it feel so far?"

"Terrifying," she admits. "And incredible."

"Good terrifying or bad terrifying?"

"The best kind of terrifying," she says, and then she's pushing you back on the bed and climbing on top of you.

The feeling of her straddling your hips, her hair falling around her face as she looks down at you, is almost overwhelming. You reach up to trace the line of her jaw, and she turns her head to kiss your palm just like you did to her earlier.

"You're so beautiful," you tell her, because it's true and because she needs to hear it.

She ducks her head, suddenly shy. "You don't have to say that."

"I'm not saying it because I have to," you say, sitting up so you're face to face with her. "I'm saying it because it's true. You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

She looks at you like she's trying to decide whether to believe you. "Really?"

"Really."

"Even with my hair all messy from the storm?"

"Especially with your hair all messy from the storm."

She smiles and kisses you again, and this time there's something different in it; less desperate, more tender.

"I like you," she whispers against your lips. "I really, really like you."

"I like you too," you whisper back.

"Even though I'm leaving in three days?"

"Especially because you're leaving in three days."

She pulls back to look at you. "What do you mean?"

"It means we don't have time to overthink this or talk ourselves out of it," you say. "It means we can just be here, right now, with each other."

"No expectations."

"No expectations."

"No promises."

"No promises."

"Just this."

"Just this."

She nods, and then she's kissing you again, and her hands are everywhere - your chest, your shoulders, your arms. You let your own hands explore her body, mapping the curve of her waist, the softness of her skin, the way she shivers when you trace patterns on her back.

Time seems to slow down and speed up simultaneously. One moment you're kissing slowly, savoring each other, and the next you're pulling at clothes with urgent need. But there's no rush, no pressure. Just two people discovering each other by candlelight while the storm provides the soundtrack.

When you finally reach for the clasp of her bra, she covers your hands with hers.

"Wait," she says softly.

Your heart sinks. "Are you sure? We can stop—"

"No, it's not that," she says quickly. "I just... can we talk for a minute first?"

"Of course." You settle back against the headboard, pulling her with you so she's curled against your side.

"This is going to sound weird," she says, tracing patterns on your chest with her finger. "But I've never done anything like this before. I've had sex, obviously, but never like this. Never just because I wanted to, without it meaning something specific."

"What did it usually mean?"

"That we were in a relationship. That it was leading somewhere. That it was part of a plan." She looks up at you. "This doesn't mean any of those things, and that's scary but also... liberating?"

"You don't have to justify it," you tell her. "We can do whatever feels right."

"What feels right is being here with you," she says. "But I'm nervous."

"About the sex?"

"About being vulnerable with someone I barely know. About letting myself feel something for someone I'm going to leave."

You stroke her hair, thinking about how to respond. "You know what I think?"

"What?"

"I think vulnerability is brave, not scary. And I think feeling something - even if it's temporary - is better than feeling nothing at all."

She's quiet for a moment. "You're very wise for someone I met three hours ago."

"If I had a nickel for every time I heard that..."

"And what about you? Are you nervous?"

You consider lying, playing it cool, but something about her honesty deserves the same in return.

"Terrified," you admit. "But not for the reasons you'd think."

"What reasons?"

"Because I like you. Like, really like you. And I'm scared that three days with you is going to ruin me for everyone else."

She lifts her head to look at you. "Would that be so bad?"

"Ask me in three days."

She smiles and settles back against your chest. "So what do we do with all this nervousness?"

"We take it slow," you say. "We don't do anything that doesn't feel completely right. And we remember that this is supposed to be fun."

"Fun," she repeats. "I like fun."

"Good, because I'm planning to show you the time of your life."

"Big talk," she says with a grin. "Can you back it up?"

"Give me three days and find out."

She laughs and tilts her head up to kiss you. "Okay," she says against your lips. "Show me."

The next hour unfolds like a dream. You take your time with each other, talking and laughing between kisses, learning what makes each other sigh and gasp. There's something magical about discovering someone new, about the way unfamiliar touches can make your body shiver.

When you finally do remove her bra, it's with reverent slowness, your eyes locked on hers as you reveal more of her beautiful body. She's perfect - small, firm breasts with dusky nipples that harden under your gaze.

"Fuck," you breathe, and she blushes prettily.

"Is that good?" she asks, suddenly self-conscious.

Instead of answering with words, you lean down and take one nipple into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it until she arches off the bed with a gasp.

"Oh god," she moans, her hands fisting in your hair. "That's... that's really good."

You spend long minutes worshipping her breasts, alternating between gentle licks and firmer suction, learning what makes her writhe beneath you. She's incredibly responsive, her back arching and her breath coming in short gasps as you discover all her sensitive spots.

"My turn," she pants, pushing at your shoulders until you're on your back.

She straddles your hips again, and the feeling of her bare breasts pressed against your chest as she kisses you is almost overwhelming. Her hands explore your body with growing confidence, tracing the lines of your muscles, finding the places that make you groan.

When she works her way down your chest with kisses and gentle bites, you think you might lose your mind. She's thorough and deliberate, paying attention to your reactions and filing away everything that makes you respond.

“Hanni," you gasp when she reaches the waistband of your jeans.

"Hmm?" she hums against your skin.

"You don't have to—"

"I want to," she says, looking up at you with dark eyes. "I want to taste you."

She won. "Fuck, yes. Please."

She smiles and makes quick work of your jeans and boxers, leaving you completely naked in the candlelight. For a moment she just looks at you, taking in your body with obvious appreciation.

"You're beautiful too," she says softly, running her hands up your thighs.

"Guys aren't beautiful," you protest.

"You are," she insists. "You're perfect."

And then she's touching you, wrapping her small hand around your length, and coherent thought becomes impossible. She starts slow, just exploring, learning the shape and feel of you. When she finally takes you into her mouth, you literally see stars.

"Jesus Christ," you groan, your hands fisting in the sheets.

She's clearly not super experienced, but what she lacks in technique she makes up for in enthusiasm. She's paying attention to your reactions, adjusting her rhythm and pressure based on your moans and gasps.

"Hanni, fuck, that's incredible," you manage to say.

She hums around you, the vibration making you jerk beneath her. When she pulls off your cock to catch her breath, her lips are swollen and slick.

"Good?" she asks with a satisfied smile.

"So fucking good," you tell her. "Come here."

You pull her up to kiss her, tasting yourself on her lips. The storm outside seems to have calmed slightly, but you barely notice. All your attention is focused on the girl in your arms.

"I want to touch you," you murmur against her neck.

"Please," she breathes.

You roll her onto her back and trail kisses down her body, taking time to appreciate every inch of soft skin. When you reach the waistband of her jeans, you look up at her for permission.

"Yes," she says without hesitation. "Please, yes."

You remove her jeans and panties slowly, savoring the reveal of her body. She's perfect everywhere – thick, smooth legs hiding the paradise you are about to discover.

"My turn to explore," you say, settling between her legs.

The first touch of your tongue makes her cry out and arch off the bed. She's already wet, and she tastes incredible; so sweet and musky and uniquely her.

"Oh god, oh fuck," she gasps as you find a rhythm that makes her thighs shake. "That's so good, don't stop, please don't stop."

You have no intention of stopping. You lose yourself in the task of learning her body, finding the spots that make her writhe and the pressure that makes her moan. She's incredibly responsive, her hips rolling against your mouth as she gets closer to the edge.

"I'm gonna come," she warns. "Fuck, I'm gonna come so hard."

You double your efforts, and within seconds she's falling apart beneath you, her back arching as waves of pleasure crash over her. You work her through it, gentling your touch as she comes down from the high.

When you finally lift your head, she's looking at you with wonder.

"Holy shit," she breathes. "That was... I've never... holy shit."

"Good?" you ask, pressing kisses to her inner thighs.

"Incredible. Amazing. Life-changing." She pulls you up to kiss her deeply. "I need you inside me. Right now."

"Condom," she manages to say.

"Nightstand," you say, reaching over you to fumble in the drawer.

The practicalities of protection handled, you position yourself at her entrance and look into her eyes.

"You sure?" you ask one more time.

"I've never been more sure of anything," she says, pulling you down for a kiss.

You enter her cunt slowly, both of you gasping at the sensation. She's incredibly tight and warm, and it takes all your self-control not to lose it immediately.

"Fuck," you groan against her neck. "You feel amazing."

"So do you," she pants, her nails digging into your shoulders. "Move, please move."

You start slowly, finding a rhythm that has both of you moaning. There's something perfect about the way your bodies fit together, like you were made for this.

"Harder," she gasps after a few minutes. "I need more."

You pick up the pace, driving into her with more force. The sound of skin against skin mingles with your gasps and moans, creating a symphony of pleasure that drowns out the storm outside.

"Yes, fuck, yes," she cries, her legs wrapping around your waist to pull you deeper. "Just like that, don't stop."

You can feel her getting close again, her inner walls starting to flutter around you and you're not far behind: the combination of her tight heat and the sounds she's making is pushing you rapidly toward the edge.

"Come with me," you gasp, reaching between your bodies to find her clit.

The added stimulation is all she needs. She cries out your name as she comes, her body clamping down around you in rhythmic pulses that trigger your own release.

You collapse on top of her, both of you breathing hard and trembling from the intensity. For a long moment, you just lie there wrapped in each other's arms, coming back to earth.

"Wow," Hanni finally whispers.

"Yeah," you agree, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. "Wow."

You clean up quickly and settle back into bed, pulling her against your side. The candle has burned low, casting dancing shadows on the walls.

"The storm's getting quieter," she observes, her head on your chest.

"Mmm," you hum, too content to care much about the weather.

"So this is what it's like," she says softly.

"What what's like?"

"Following your instincts. Doing something just because it feels right." She tilts her head to look at you. "I can see why people get addicted to it."

"Addicted to what? Good sex?"

"Addicted to feeling alive," she corrects. "I haven't felt this... present... in years."

You stroke her hair, understanding exactly what she means. "It's the storm," you say. "It strips away all the normal distractions and forces you to just be where you are."

"Is that what this is? Storm madness?"

"Maybe. Does it matter?"

She considers this. "No," she says finally. "I don't think it does."

You're both quiet for a while, listening to the rain that's finally starting to ease up outside. The thunder is more distant now, rolling away toward the east.

"Can I ask you something?" Hanni says eventually.

"Anything."

"What are you thinking right now? Really thinking, not just the polite answer."

You're quiet for a moment, trying to articulate the complex mix of emotions churning in your chest.

"I'm thinking that this is the best first day of anything I've ever had," you say finally. "And I'm thinking that two more days isn't nearly enough."

"And?"

"And I'm trying not to think about what happens after that."

She nods against your chest. "I'm thinking the same thing."

"What else are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that I could get used to this very quickly," she admits. "Being with someone who makes me feel like this."

"Like what?"

"Like myself. Like the person I am when nobody else is watching."

You tip her chin up so you can see her face in the dim candlelight. "That person is pretty incredible."

"You think so?"

"I know so."

She smiles and settles back against you. "Two more days," she murmurs, half to herself.

"Two more days," you agree.

But as you lie there holding her, listening to her breathing even out as she drifts toward sleep, you're already dreading the moment when you'll have to let her go.

Day Two: Dreaming

You wake up to silence.

Not just quiet; actual silence. No hum of the air conditioning, no soft whir of the refrigerator, no digital clocks glowing in the darkness. Just the gentle sound of rain still pattering against the windows and the warm weight of Hanni curled against your side.

The power is definitely out.

You check your phone: 7:23 AM, and the battery is at sixty percent. Outside, the world looks washed clean. The storm has passed, leaving behind a gray morning and the kind of pristine air that only comes after nature has thrown a proper tantrum.

Hanni stirs beside you, making a soft sound of contentment as she presses closer to your warmth. She's wearing one of your shirts. Now you can't help but think that you'd like to see her wearing every single one of your shirts throughout the nights.

"Morning," you murmur into her hair.

"Mmm," she hums without opening her eyes. "What time is it?"

"About seven-thirty."

"Too early," she decides, nuzzling into your neck. "Let's stay in bed forever."

"I like that plan," you say, tightening your arms around her. "Unfortunately, without power, it's going to get pretty cold in here eventually."

That gets her attention. She lifts her head, blinking in the dim light. "Still no electricity?"

"Nope. Welcome to day two of our primitive survival experience."

She stretches like a cat, and you can't help but admire the way the movement makes her back arch. Even first thing in the morning, with her hair messy and her makeup long gone, she's breathtakingly beautiful.

"How do you feel?" you ask, suddenly worried that she might regret last night in the clear light of morning.

She settles back against you with a smile that erases all your concerns. "Like I slept better than I have in months," she says. "How do you feel?"

"Like I don't want to get out of this bed."

"Then don't," she says simply, trailing her fingers across your chest. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"We could starve to death."

"Romantic starvation," she muses. "There are worse ways to go."

"Very romantic. We could become one of those tragic love stories people write songs about."

"The Storm Weekend Lovers," she suggests dramatically. "Found months later, still in each other's arms, beautiful corpses who chose love over sustenance."

"That's morbid as hell," you laugh.

"But romantic," she insists, grinning at you.

You kiss her forehead, marveling again at how easy everything feels with her. "Okay, before we commit to romantic death by starvation, let me see what the food situation actually looks like."

"Fine," she sighs dramatically. "Abandon me for practical concerns."

"I'll make it up to you with breakfast."

"What kind of breakfast can you make without power?"

"You'll see. Trust me."

You reluctantly extract yourself from the warm cocoon of blankets and Hanni's arms. The apartment is noticeably cooler without the heating system running, and you can see your breath slightly in the dim light.

"Jesus, it's cold," you mutter, pulling on boxers and a t-shirt.

"Come back," Hanni calls from the bed, having stolen all the blankets the moment you left. "I'm freezing without my personal heater."

"Give me ten minutes to survey our survival options," you tell her. "Then I'll come warm you up properly."

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart."

In the kitchen, you assess your options by phone flashlight. The gas stove still works (one advantage of having an older apartment with gas appliances). You've got eggs, bread, coffee that you can make in your French press, and some fruit that doesn't need refrigeration.

More importantly, you've got camping gear in the closet from a phase last year where you thought you might become an outdoorsy person. That means a battery-powered radio, a camp stove with fuel canisters, and some warm clothing.

You get the coffee started first (because priorities) then set up the camp stove on the balcony to supplement the gas range. The morning air is crisp and clean, washed fresh by the storm.

By the time you return to the bedroom with a tray of coffee, scrambled eggs, and toast, Hanni has managed to make herself even more beautiful despite (or maybe because of) being wrapped in blankets like a burrito.

"You actually made breakfast," she says, sounding impressed.

"I told you to trust me." You set the tray on the nightstand and climb back into bed. "Coffee, eggs, toast, and..." You produce a small container from your back pocket. "Strawberry jam from that fancy place downtown."

"You had fancy jam just lying around?"

"I bought it for my ex and never used it," you admit. "Seemed like a waste to throw it out."

"Well, her loss is my gain," Hanni says, unwrapping herself enough to reach for the coffee. "Oh my god, this smells amazing."

You settle back against the headboard and watch her take her first sip. The way she closes her eyes and makes a little sound of pleasure makes you think about last night, which makes you think about things you definitely shouldn't be thinking about while trying to eat breakfast.

"So what's the plan for today?" she asks, curling up next to you with her coffee.

"Depends how long the power stays out. If it comes back on in a few hours, we can pretty much do whatever we want. If not..." You shrug. "We get creative."

"I vote for not," she says immediately.

"You want the power to stay out?"

"I want an excuse to spend the whole day in bed with you," she says with that direct honesty that keeps catching you off guard.

"We don't need an excuse for that."

"Don't we?" She looks at you over her coffee cup. "I mean, what would we normally do on a Saturday? If we were dating, I mean, or if this was... normal somehow."

It's a good question. What would you normally do? Probably sleep in, maybe grab brunch somewhere, do some shopping or see a movie. The kind of casual weekend activities that couples do when they're still figuring each other out.

"Honestly?" you say. "I'd probably be overthinking everything. Wondering if you were having a good time, whether I should hold your hand, when would be the right time to kiss you."

"And instead?"

"Instead I already know you taste like strawberry jam and make the most incredible sounds when you come."

She nearly chokes on her coffee, laughing. "Jesus, you can't just say things like that."

"Why not?"

"Because it makes me want to do things that aren't compatible with eating breakfast."

"What kind of things?"

She sets down her coffee and moves closer, her hand sliding under your shirt to rest on your chest. "Things that involve significantly less clothing and significantly more of those sounds you mentioned."

Your pulse kicks up immediately. "We should probably finish eating first."

"Should we?" she asks, her fingers tracing patterns on your skin.

"Food is important for maintaining energy levels."

"I can think of other ways to work up an appetite," she murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss to your neck.

The combination of her lips on your skin and her hand moving lower makes it very difficult to remember why breakfast was important.

"Hanni," you start, but she silences you by biting gently at your earlobe.

"I've been thinking," she whispers against your ear, "about last night. About how you felt inside me."

All coherent thought evaporates. "Yeah?"

"Mmm. And I've been wondering what it would feel like to wake up with you inside me. To start the day connected like that."

"Fuck," you breathe, your body responding immediately to the image she's painting.

"Is that a yes?" she asks, pulling back to look at you with a smile that's equal parts innocent and wicked.

"That's a definitely yes," you manage to say.

She grins and starts pushing the breakfast tray toward the nightstand. "Then breakfast can wait."

What follows is slow and lazy and perfect. Morning sex with soft gray light filtering through the windows and no urgency except the desire to be close to each other. You take your time exploring her body again, relearning all the places that make her sigh and arch beneath you.

"I love how you touch me," she whispers as you trace patterns on her inner thigh. "Like you're memorizing me."

"I am memorizing you," you admit, pressing kisses along her hipbone. "Every inch."

When you finally slide your cock inside her, it's with a sense of rightness that goes beyond the physical. She wraps her legs around your waist and pulls you close, and for a moment you just stay like that, connected and still.

"This is what I wanted," she says softly, her hands framing your face. "To start the day with you."

You move together slowly, building pleasure with deliberate care rather than desperate need. It's intimate in a way that goes beyond just sex: it's tender and vulnerable and real.

When you both finally fall apart, it's with quiet gasps and whispered names rather than the loud cries of the night before. Afterward, you stay connected, neither of you wanting to break the spell.

"Now I'm hungry," Hanni announces eventually, making you laugh.

"Good thing I made breakfast."

"You're very practical for someone who just rocked my world."

"I'm a man of many talents."

She stretches beneath you, catlike and satisfied. "I'm beginning to notice that."

You finally separate and resettle with the breakfast tray between you. The coffee has gone lukewarm, but neither of you seems to care.

"So," Hanni says around a bite of toast, "what's the rest of our survival plan?"

"Well, assuming the power doesn't come back soon, we'll need to think about staying warm. The temperature's supposed to drop tonight."

"How much colder?"

"Forties, maybe high thirties."

"That's actually cold," she says, looking concerned. "I don't do well in cold weather."

"Don't worry," you tell her. "I've got camping gear, and worst case scenario, we can always share body heat."

"I like that plan."

"I thought you might."

You finish breakfast and decide to venture out to assess the neighborhood situation. Most of the power lines in the area are down, and you can see utility crews already working to restore service. The convenience store on the corner is closed, but the coffee shop two blocks away has a generator and is serving as an unofficial community center for people without power.

"This is kind of amazing," Hanni says as you walk through the neighborhood. "Look how everyone's just... helping each other."

She's right. Neighbors who probably barely speak normally are sharing generators and hot coffee. Someone has set up a grill in the parking lot behind the coffee shop and is cooking food for anyone who needs it.

"Crisis brings out the best in people sometimes," you say.

"Or the worst," she points out. "But this is definitely the best."

You grab some extra ice and batteries from the coffee shop, then head back to your apartment. By the time you return, it's almost noon and the temperature is starting to drop noticeably.

"Okay," you say, setting your supplies on the kitchen counter. "Time to implement phase two of the survival plan."

"Which is?"

"We build a fort."

"A fort?" She looks at you like you've lost your mind.

"A blanket fort," you clarify. "In the living room. We bring all the blankets and pillows from the bedroom, set up the camping gear, and create a warm, cozy space to wait out the power outage."

"That's..." She pauses, considering. "Actually brilliant."

"I told you I was practical."

The next hour is spent transforming your living room into what can only be described as the ultimate adult blanket fort. You use chairs and the coffee table to create a framework, then drape every blanket and sheet you own over it to create an enclosed space. Inside, you spread out camping mattresses and sleeping bags, set up battery-powered lanterns, and arrange pillows for maximum comfort.

"This is ridiculous," Hanni says, crawling inside the finished fort. "And I absolutely love it."

"Welcome to Fort Blackout," you announce, settling beside her. "Population: two."

"It's perfect," she says, snuggling against your side. "Like being kids again, but with the possibility of sex."

"The best kind of fort."

You spend the afternoon in your blanket sanctuary, talking and laughing and learning more about each other. Hanni tells you about growing up between two cultures, never quite fitting perfectly in either one. You tell her about your job and your friends and your general quarter-life confusion about what you're supposed to be doing with your existence.

"Do you ever think about just leaving?" she asks. "Packing up and starting over somewhere else?"

"Sometimes," you admit. "But I've got a good life here. Friends, decent job, this place. It seems stupid to throw that away just because I'm restless."

"But what if staying is what's stupid?" she challenges. "What if the life you have is just... fine... but not actually what you want?"

"What if I don't know what I want?"

"Then you travel until you figure it out," she says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Not everyone can do what you're doing, Hanni. Some of us have responsibilities."

"What responsibilities?" she asks, genuinely curious rather than judgmental.

"I don't know... rent, career progression, not disappointing my parents..."

"Those aren't responsibilities," she says gently. "Those are expectations. Other people's expectations."

"What's the difference?"

"Responsibility is taking care of yourself and the people you love. Everything else is just pressure you're choosing to accept."

It's such a simple distinction, but it hits you hard. How much of your life is actually driven by what you want versus what you think you should want?

"You make it sound easy," you say.

"It's not easy," she admits. "It's terrifying. But it's also the most alive I've ever felt."

You're quiet for a moment, processing this. "Is that what last night was about? Feeling alive?"

"Partly," she says. "But not just that."

"What else?"

She turns to face you in the dim light of the fort. "Connection. Real connection with someone who sees me as I actually am, not as who they want me to be."

"And who are you actually?"

"I'm still figuring that out," she says with a smile. "But I know I'm someone who sleeps with beautiful strangers during storms and builds blanket forts and doesn't have a five-year plan."

"That sounds like a pretty good person to be."

"You think so?"

"I think so."

She kisses you then, soft and sweet, and you lose yourselves in each other again. There's something about the enclosed space of the fort that makes everything feel more intimate, more secret. Like you're the only two people in the world.

By evening, the temperature outside has dropped significantly, and you can feel the cold seeping into the apartment despite your fort construction. You've been keeping warm by staying close together, but it's clear you're going to need additional strategies for the night.

"I'm actually cold," Hanni admits, shivering slightly despite being wrapped in a sleeping bag.

"Time for phase three," you announce.

"Which is?"

"Hot food and alcohol."

You venture out of the fort to cook dinner on the camp stove - simple but warm soup and grilled cheese made on the gas stovetop. The bottle of wine from last night is joined by the whiskey you bought yesterday, and soon you're both warming up from the inside.

"This is actually fun," Hanni says, curled up next to you with a mug of soup. "Like camping, but with better amenities."

"Better company too," you say.

"You've done a lot of camping?"

"Some. I went through a phase where I thought I wanted to be outdoorsy. Bought all the gear, planned these elaborate trips, then realized I'm much more of an indoor person."

"What changed your mind?"

"Sleeping on the ground sucks," you say simply. "Also, I like showers and reliable wifi."

She laughs. "So you're a fake outdoorsman."

"Completely fake. I appreciate nature from a comfortable distance."

"Good thing I like fake outdoorsmen."

"Is that your type?"

"Apparently," she says, leaning over to kiss you.

The kiss tastes like wine and soup. When you break apart, she's looking at you with an expression you can't quite read.

"What?" you ask.

"Nothing, just... this is nice. Sitting here with you, talking about nothing important."

"As opposed to?"

"As opposed to the kind of conversations I usually have. About careers and goals and where do you see yourself in five years." She makes a face. "I'm so sick of those conversations."

"What would you rather talk about?"

"Anything else. Favorite books, worst fears, what you wanted to be when you were seven years old."

"A dinosaur," you say immediately.

"What?"

"When I was seven, I wanted to be a dinosaur. Specifically a T-Rex."

She stares at you for a moment, then bursts into laughter. "That's the best answer anyone's ever given to that question."

"What about you? What did seven-year-old Hanni want to be?"

"A translator," she says. "I wanted to be one of those people at the United Nations who wear headphones and translate speeches in real time."

"That's… very specific for a seven-year-old."

"I was fascinated by the idea that you could help people understand each other just by knowing multiple languages. It seemed like magic."

"It kind of is magic," you say. "Being able to communicate across cultures like that."

"Maybe that's part of why I'm learning German and Portuguese. Chasing that childhood dream in a roundabout way."

"Are you good at languages?"

"Pretty good. I'm fluent in Vietnamese and English, obviously, and my Spanish is solid. German is harder because the grammar is insane, but I love how precise it is."

"Say something in German," you request.

"Like what?"

"Anything. I just want to hear how it sounds."

She thinks for a moment, then says something in German that sounds both melodic and strong.

"What did that mean?" you ask.

"I said, 'This is the strangest and most wonderful weekend of my life.'"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

You're both quiet for a moment, the weight of the sentiment settling between you.

"Can I ask you something?" Hanni says eventually.

"Always."

"What happens after tomorrow?"

It's the question you've both been avoiding, and hearing it out loud makes your chest tighten.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, do we exchange numbers and promise to keep in touch? Do we pretend this never happened? Do we..." She trails off, looking uncertain for the first time since you've known her.

"I don't know," you admit. "What do you want to happen?"

"I don't know either. That's the problem."

You set down your mug and turn to face her fully. "Why is it a problem?"

"Because I'm leaving," she says. "Because this was supposed to be simple and uncomplicated, and it's turning into something that feels... not simple."

"What does it feel like?"

She's quiet for a long moment, looking down at her hands. "It feels like the beginning of something important," she says finally. "And I don't know what to do with that."

Your heart does something complicated in your chest. "Hanni..."

"I know," she says quickly. "I know this wasn't supposed to be about feelings. But I can't help it. I really like you. Like, really really like you."

"I really like you too," you tell her, reaching out to take her hand. "More than I expected to. More than is probably smart."

"So what do we do?"

"I don't know," you say honestly. "But I know I don't want to spend our last day together worrying about what comes after."

"You're right," she says, squeezing your hand. "Whatever happens, happens. Right now is what matters."

"Right now is pretty great."

"It really is."

She leans over to kiss you, and this time there's something different in it; a tenderness that goes beyond just attraction or desire. It's the kind of kiss that means something, whether you want it to or not.

"So," she says when you break apart, "how exactly are we going to stay warm tonight?"

"I have some ideas," you say with a grin.

"Involving the sleeping bags?"

"Definitely involving the sleeping bags."

"And shared body heat?"

"Lots of shared body heat."

"Show me," she says, and there's something in her voice that makes your pulse quicken.

You spend the next few minutes rearranging the fort, zipping two sleeping bags together to create one larger sleeping space. The battery-powered lanterns cast warm, golden light over everything, creating an atmosphere that's both cozy and intimate.

"Come here," you say, settling into the makeshift bed.

She crawls over to you, and in the confined space of the fort, everything feels closer, more intense. When you kiss her this time, it's with the knowledge that your time together is limited, which makes every touch more precious.

"I want you," she whispers against your lips.

"You have me," you whisper back.

What follows is slow and thorough and incredibly intimate. In the warm cocoon of the fort, with the cold wind whistling outside, you take your time worshipping each other's bodies. Every kiss, every touch, every whispered endearment feels like something to be treasured.

When Hanni straddles your hips and slowly sinks down onto you, the look in her eyes is so intense it takes your breath away.

"God," she gasps, her head falling back as she adjusts to the feeling of your cock inside her.

"Look at me," you say softly, reaching up to cup her face.

She meets your eyes, and the connection is electric. There's something vulnerable and open in her expression that makes your chest tight with emotion.

"You're so beautiful," you tell her, because it's true and because she needs to hear it.

"So are you," she whispers, beginning to move slowly.

The rhythm you find together is unhurried and perfect. In the golden light of the lanterns, with the storm sounds providing a soundtrack, everything feels dreamlike and magical.

"I don't want this to end," she gasps as you hit a particularly good angle.

"Then don't let it," you say, sitting up to wrap your arms around her.

The new position brings you even closer together, and she makes a sound of pleasure that goes straight to your soul.

"Like this," she breathes, moving against you in a way that makes you see stars. "I want to feel all of you."

You lose track of time after that, lost in the rhythm of her body and the sounds she makes and the way she looks in the flickering light. When she finally falls apart around you, crying out your name, it triggers your own release with an intensity that leaves you shaking.

Afterward, you hold each other close in the warmth of the sleeping bags, listening to the wind outside.

"That was..." Hanni starts, then trails off.

"Yeah," you agree, understanding perfectly.

"Is it weird that I'm already sad about leaving?" she asks quietly.

"Is it weird that I'm already planning ways to convince you to stay?" you counter.

She lifts her head to look at you. "What kind of ways?"

"I don't know. Bribery, maybe. Really good coffee and homemade breakfast every morning."

"That's a compelling offer."

"I could throw in backrubs and excellent fort-building skills."

"You do build an excellent fort," she concedes.

"Plus, think of all the storms we could survive together."

She's quiet for a moment, and you can see her thinking.

"It's tempting," she says finally. "But you know I can't."

"I know," you say, even though part of you was hoping she might say yes. "Doesn't stop me from wanting to ask."

"What if..." She hesitates, then seems to make a decision. "What if distance doesn't have to mean the end?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what if we see what happens? Stay in touch, see where you are when I'm done traveling."

Your heart jumps at the possibility. "You'd want that?"

"I don't know what I want long-term," she says honestly. "But I know I don't want to just forget about you when I leave tomorrow."

"I don't want to forget about you either."

"So maybe we don't have to figure it all out right now. Maybe we just... see what happens."

"No pressure, no expectations," you say, echoing the conversation from the night before.

"Just... possibility."

"I like possibility."

"Good," she says, settling back against your chest. "Because I think you might be worth waiting for."

The words hit you harder than they should, given that you've known her for less than two days. But lying there in your blanket fort, holding this incredible girl who's managed to turn your entire world upside down in the span of a weekend, waiting doesn't seem like such a terrible thing.

Outside, the wind is still howling, but inside your makeshift sanctuary, everything feels perfect. You're warm and safe and holding someone who makes you want to be braver than you've ever been.

"Hanni?" you say softly.

"Mmm?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For making me feel alive."

She tilts her head up to kiss your jaw. "Thank you for making me feel like myself."

You fall asleep like that, wrapped around each other in a pile of blankets and sleeping bags, with the storm providing a lullaby and the promise of one more day together when you wake up.

Day Three: Departure

Sunday morning arrives with cruel sunshine.

You wake to Hanni tracing patterns on your chest, her finger following the lines of your muscles in the golden light streaming through the apartment windows. Sometime during the night, the power came back on - you can hear the quiet hum of the refrigerator and see the digital clock on the microwave blinking 12:00 in the kitchen.

"The storm's over," she says softly, not looking up from her artwork on your skin.

"Yeah," you agree, though you're not sure if she's talking about the weather or the weekend.

"I checked my phone. My flight's still on schedule for tonight."

"What time?"

"Eight-thirty. I should probably leave here around five to get to the airport and check in."

You do the math automatically. It's 9:15 now. Less than eight hours left.

"We should make them count," you say, tightening your arms around her.

"What do you want to do?"

The question hangs in the air between you. What do you do on the last day with someone who's about to walk out of your life? How do you fit a lifetime of experiences into eight hours?

"Everything," you say finally. "I want to do everything with you."

She smiles and looks up at you. "Everything's a pretty big list."

"Then we better get started."

What follows is the kind of day you'll remember for the rest of your life. Not because anything particularly extraordinary happens, but because of the weight of knowing it's all temporary. Every moment feels heightened, more vivid, like you're seeing everything in higher definition.

You start with breakfast in bed; real breakfast this time, with the coffee maker working and eggs that don't require camping equipment. Hanni steals bites of your toast and gets jam on her chin, and when you lean over to kiss it off, she tastes like strawberries.

"So what's the plan?" she asks, curled up next to you with her coffee.

"First, shower," you say. "A real shower, with hot water and actual water pressure."

"Together?" she asks with a grin that makes your pulse quicken.

"Definitely together."

The shower turns into an extended exploration of what it feels like to worship someone's body under hot water. You take turns washing each other with deliberate care, learning the geography of skin and muscle and the places that make each other gasp. When Hanni drops to her knees and takes you in her mouth under the spray of water, you have to brace yourself against the tile wall to keep from collapsing.

"Fuck, Hanni," you groan, your hands tangling in her wet hair.

She hums around you, the vibration making your knees weak. When you finally pull her up to kiss her, she's laughing and breathless and more beautiful than should be legal.

"My turn," you murmur against her lips, and proceed to return the favor until she's crying out your name and trembling against you.

By the time you finally make it out of the shower, it's almost noon and you're both wrinkled from the water and grinning like idiots.

"Best shower of my life," Hanni announces, wrapping herself in one of your towels.

"Just wait until you see what I can do with actual food and a working kitchen," you tell her.

"I've tried every kind of food in America. Do you think you can surprise me?"

"Watch me."

You spend the next hour cooking together - and you use the term "together" loosely, since Hanni's contribution mostly involves sitting on the counter distracting you with her legs and making unhelpful comments about your technique.

"You're supposed to flip it when the edges start to set," she says, watching you make pancakes.

"I know how to make pancakes," you say, though you're more focused on the way her towel is riding up her thighs than on the cooking.

"Are you sure? Because that one looks a little..."

"A little what?"

"Burned," she says with a laugh.

You look down at the pan and realize she's right. "That's your fault for being distracting."

"I'm just sitting here."

"You're sitting there being gorgeous and naked under that towel. It's very distracting."

"Poor baby," she says with mock sympathy. "Can't cook when there's a pretty girl in the kitchen."

"Not just any pretty girl," you correct, moving to stand between her legs. "You specifically. You're like kryptonite for my domestic skills."

"Kryptonite?" She wraps her arms around your neck. "I'm your weakness?"

"My greatest weakness," you confirm, leaning in to kiss her.

The pancakes burn.

You order takeout instead, laughing about your complete failure at domestic goddess status. While you wait for the food to arrive, Hanni gets dressed in clothes from her suitcase; jeans and a soft gray sweater that makes her skin glow.

"I need to do laundry when I get to Germany," she says, examining the contents of her suitcase. "I've been living out of this thing for months."

"What's Germany like?" you ask, settling on the bed to watch her pack and repack her things.

"I don't know yet. I fly into Munich, then I'm taking trains around to different cities. I want to see as much as possible before I settle somewhere to really focus on the language."

"How long will you be there?"

"Three months, maybe four. Depends on how quickly I pick up the German and whether I like it enough to stay longer."

"And then Portugal and Brazil?"

"That's the plan. Though plans have a way of changing when you're traveling." She looks at you. "I'm learning to be okay with not knowing what comes next."

"Must be liberating."

"It is. Terrifying, but liberating." She sits on the edge of the bed. "What about you? Any plans to escape your comfortable life?"

"Maybe," you say, surprising yourself. "I've been thinking about what you said yesterday. About the difference between responsibilities and expectations."

"And?"

"And maybe you're right. Maybe I've been living someone else's idea of what my life should look like."

"What would your idea look like?"

It's a good question, and one you've been afraid to ask yourself. "I don't know," you admit. "But I think I'd like to find out."

"That's the first step," she says softly. "Admitting you don't know."

The food arrives, interrupting the conversation, but her words stick with you. As you eat lunch together on your couch (Thai food this time, eaten straight from the containers) you find yourself looking at your apartment with different eyes. When did you stop thinking of this place as temporary and start thinking of it as permanent? When did you stop asking yourself what you wanted and start just accepting what you had?

"Penny for your thoughts," Hanni says, nudging you with her foot.

"Just thinking about what you said. About not knowing what comes next."

"Having second thoughts about your perfectly adequate life?"

"Maybe." You look at her. "Is that crazy?"

"The only crazy thing would be staying somewhere that doesn't make you happy just because it's safe."

"But what if I leave and it turns out this was as good as it gets? What if I'm throwing away something good for something that might not even exist?"

"What if you stay and spend the rest of your life wondering what might have been?"

She has a point. You've been so focused on not making the wrong choice that you've avoided making any choice at all.

"Besides," she continues, "who says you have to figure it all out at once? You could start small. Take a vacation somewhere you've always wanted to go. Apply for jobs in other cities. See what happens."

"Is that how you started? Small steps?"

"God, no," she laughs. "I went full nuclear option. Quit everything, bought a plane ticket, and hoped for the best."

"How's that working out for you?"

"Well, I'm sitting in an apartment eating Thai food with a guy I met two days ago who makes me feel like I can conquer the world," she says. "So I'd say it's working out pretty well."

"Even though you're leaving tonight?"

"Especially because I'm leaving tonight." She sets down her food and moves closer to you. "Don't you see? If I had stayed home, played it safe, followed the plan, I never would have met you. I never would have had this weekend."

"But you're still leaving."

"But I'm not forgetting." She cups your face in her hands. "Some experiences aren't meant to last forever. That doesn't make them less valuable."

"How do you know the difference? Between something that's meant to be temporary and something that's worth fighting for?"

"You don't," she says simply. "That's what makes it an adventure."

You're quiet for a moment, processing this. "You're very wise for someone who doesn't have a five-year plan."

"I'm very stupid for someone who's falling for a guy she can't keep," she counters.

"Are you? Falling?"

She's quiet for so long you think she's not going to answer.

"Yeah," she says. "I think I am."

"Hanni..."

"I know," she says quickly. "I know it's stupid and impractical and completely against the rules we set up. But I can't help it."

"The rules were stupid anyway," you say, pulling her closer. "Who makes rules about not having feelings?"

"Smart people who don't want to get hurt."

"Are we smart people?"

"Definitely not," she says with a laugh that sounds slightly watery.

"Good. Smart people are boring."

"Are you?" she asks, looking at you with those dark eyes that see too much. "Falling?"

You think about lying, about protecting yourself and her from the complications that come with admitting feelings. But looking at her face, open and vulnerable and beautiful, you can't bring yourself to do it.

"Yeah," you say. "I'm definitely falling."

She closes her eyes like the admission hurts. "This is a disaster."

"The best kind of disaster."

"We're going to end up heartbroken."

"Maybe. Or maybe we'll end up with something amazing."

"How can we have something amazing when I'm leaving?"

"I don't know," you admit. "But I know that what we have right now is amazing, and I don't want to waste it worrying about later."

She opens her eyes and looks at you. "You're right. We have..." She checks her phone. "Four hours. What do you want to do with four hours?"

"Make love to you," you say immediately, then feel yourself blush at the words. "I mean... fuck. I meant have sex. Make love sounds so..."

"Perfect," she interrupts softly. "It sounds perfect."

And it is perfect. You carry her to the bedroom and spend the next two hours learning each other's bodies with a tenderness that goes far beyond anything you've shared before. Every touch is deliberate, every kiss is meaningful, every moment feels like something to be treasured.

When Hanni arches beneath you, gasping your name as you move inside her, the look in her eyes is so full of emotion it takes your breath away.

"I love the way you feel," she whispers, her legs wrapped around your waist. "I love how we fit together."

"I love everything about you," you say, and immediately freeze. It's too much, too soon, too honest.

But instead of pulling away, she smiles. "Say it again."

"I love everything about you," you repeat, this time deliberately. "Your smile, your laugh, the way you think about the world. I love how brave you are and how honest you are and how you make me want to be braver too."

"I love you too," she says simply, and the words hang in the air between you like a gift.

You stop moving, overwhelmed by the magnitude of the moment. "Hanni..."

"I know it's crazy," she says, her hands framing your face. "I know we just met and I'm leaving and this is supposed to be casual. But I love you. I love you and I needed to say it."

"I love you too," you say, and saying it feels like jumping off a cliff. "God, I love you so much it scares me."

What happens next transcends anything you've experienced before. You move together with a desperation that comes from knowing this is precious and temporary. When you both finally fall apart, it's with tears in your eyes and each other's names on your lips.

Afterward, you hold each other in the afternoon sunlight streaming through your bedroom windows, both of you quiet and overwhelmed.

"So," Hanni says eventually, her voice slightly hoarse. "We're in love."

"Apparently."

"That complicates things."

"Just a little."

She's quiet for a moment, then starts laughing. "This is insane. I'm in love with someone I met three days ago."

"Two days," you correct. "It's only been two days."

"That makes it worse, not better."

"Or it makes it magic."

She lifts her head to look at you. "You really think so?"

"I think that falling in love isn't supposed to be logical or convenient or follow a timeline. I think it just happens when it happens."

"And it happened to us."

"It happened to us."

"In the middle of a storm."

"The best things happen during storms."

She smiles and settles back against your chest. "So what now?"

"Now we figure out what to do with it."

"I still have to leave."

"I know."

"And you still have your life here."

"I know."

"And long-distance relationships are hard and usually don't work."

"I know."

"But?"

"But I love you," you say simply. "And you love me. And maybe that's enough to figure out the rest."

"You'd really want to try? Even knowing how complicated it'll be?"

"Hanni, I've never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. If there's even a chance we could make this work, I want to take it."

"What if I'm traveling for a year? What if I decide to stay in Europe? What if—"

"What if you stop asking what-if questions and we just see what happens?" you interrupt gently.

She's quiet for a long moment. "You'd really wait for me? Even not knowing when or if I'll come back?"

"I'd really wait for you."

"Why?"

"Because some people are worth waiting for," you say, echoing her words from the night before. "And you're definitely one of them."

She turns to kiss you, and there's something different in this kiss - hope, maybe, or possibility.

"Okay," she says against your lips.

"Okay what?"

"Okay, let's try. Let's see what happens."

"Really?"

"Really. I can't promise anything, and I don't know how it'll work, but... I love you. I want to see where this goes."

The relief that floods through you is almost overwhelming. "I love you too. We'll figure it out."

"Together?"

"Together."

You spend the remaining time before she has to leave for the airport doing normal, domestic things that feel anything but normal. You help her pack, though mostly you just sit on the bed and watch her fold clothes while trying to memorize every detail about her. You make coffee and share a mug, taking turns sipping from it like you're sharing something sacred.

At 4:30, you call a car to take her to the airport.

"I should go wait downstairs," she says, shouldering her backpack.

"I'll come with you."

"You don't have to—"

"I want to."

The ride to the airport is quiet, both of you lost in your own thoughts. Hanni's hand is in yours, and you find yourself memorizing the feel of it: the softness of her skin, the way her fingers fit between yours, the small callus on her index finger from writing.

At the departure terminal, you help her get her bags from the trunk and then stand there facing each other, neither wanting to be the first to say goodbye.

"This is it," she says finally.

"This is it."

"I'll text you when I land in Munich."

"I'll be waiting."

"And we'll video chat when the time zones work out."

"Every day if you want."

"I want." She steps closer, looking up at you with eyes that are bright with unshed tears. "I'm going to miss you so much."

"I'm going to miss you too."

"Thank you," she says softly.

"For what?"

"For the best three days of my life. For making me feel like myself. For being brave enough to fall in love with me."

"Thank you for falling in love with me back."

She rises up on her toes to kiss you, and it's soft and sweet and tinged with the sadness of goodbye.

"I love you," she whispers against your lips.

"I love you too," you whisper back. "Now go have adventures. I'll be here when you're ready."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

You watch her walk into the terminal, turning back once to wave before she disappears into the crowd. You stand there for a long time after she's gone, watching planes take off through the windows and thinking about how much your life has changed in three days On the drive home, your apartment feels different, too quiet, too empty, like it's missing something essential. You walk through the rooms, touching things she touched, remembering the way she looked curled up on your couch or standing in your kitchen making coffee.

The blanket fort is still set up in your living room, and you find yourself crawling inside it, surrounded by the lingering scent of her perfume and the memory of everything you shared there.

Your phone buzzes with a text: "Boarding now. Thank you for everything. I love you."

You text back: "Fly safe. I love you too. This isn't goodbye, it's see you later."

"See you later," she responds, followed by a heart emoji.

You lie there in the fort, thinking about storms and timing and the way some people can walk into your life and change everything in the space of a weekend. Outside, the city is settling into Sunday evening normalcy, but inside your apartment, everything feels transformed.

Your phone rings. It's Jake, your former roommate.

"Hey man," he says when you answer. "How'd you survive the storm? Power's been out in half the city."

"It was... interesting," you say, which might be the understatement of the year.

"Just interesting? Dude, that was like a once-in-a-decade storm. Didn't you have Danielle's friend staying with you?"

"Yeah. Hanni."

"How was that? Awkward having a stranger crash during the apocalypse?"

You think about how to answer that. How do you explain that a stranger became the most important person in your world in the span of three days? How do you describe falling in love during a storm?

"Actually," you say, "it was perfect."

"Perfect? Really?"

"Really."

"Huh. Well, good for you, man. I was worried you'd be miserable stuck inside with some random girl."

"Definitely not miserable," you say, and you can't help but smile despite the ache in your chest.

After you hang up, you stay in the fort for a while longer, thinking about everything that's happened and everything that might happen next. Tomorrow you'll go back to work, back to your regular life, but something fundamental has shifted. Hanni was right: you can't go back to just going through the motions when you know what it feels like to be truly alive.

Your phone buzzes again. A photo this time - Hanni at her gate, giving a thumbs up with a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.

"Gate 47. Thinking of our fort," she's written.

You take a picture of yourself inside the blanket fort and send it back. "Fort misses you already."

"Save it for when I get back?"

"It'll be here waiting."

"Good. I love you."

"I love you too. Safe travels, beautiful."

You stay in the fort until long after her plane has taken off, scrolling through the few photos you managed to take over the weekend and reading through your text conversation. Eventually, you clean up the living room, folding blankets and putting furniture back where it belongs. But you keep one of the sleeping bags on the couch, and you don't put away all the candles.

Some things are worth preserving.

That night, you lie in your bed (which feels too big and too empty now) and think about the future. For the first time in years, you don't know exactly what comes next, and instead of that feeling terrifying, it feels like possibility.

You think about Hanni somewhere over the Atlantic, probably asleep in her cramped airplane seat, flying toward her next adventure. You think about the conversations you'll have and the texts you'll exchange and the video calls that will have to substitute for being together.

It won't be easy. Long-distance relationships require work and patience and faith that what you have is worth the difficulty. But lying there in the dark, remembering the way she looked at you when she said she loved you, you know it will be worth it.

Your phone buzzes one last time. "Somewhere over the ocean. Can't sleep. Thinking about our storm."

"Think we'll have another one?" you text back, not sure if she's still awake to receive it.

The response comes immediately: "I'm counting on it."

You fall asleep smiling, and you dream of storms and girls who taste like adventure and the way some weekends can change your entire life.

Three days. It took three days for a stranger to become the most important person in your world. Three days to fall in love and decide to fight for something that should be impossible.

But as you've learned, the best things usually happen during storms.

[helioooss]

your song, part two

synopsis: after years apart, y/n, now a successful chef running her own restaurant in makati, finds her life briefly interrupted when sophia laforteza, her childhood best friend turned global pop star, returns home.

w/c: 10k+

warnings: swearing, slowburn, angst

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the office couch had never really been meant for sleeping, but the fold-out had done its job. two pillows borrowed from the bar’s storage room, a spare throw blanket pulled from a dusty crate. you turned off the lights around sometime around 11pm but neither of you stopped talking.

the hum of the bar fridge filled the space between stories — sophia’s recounts of rehearsals, early katseye tensions, the first time she cried after a concert when someone in the crowd held up a sign with her name on it.

the two of you had stayed up past midnight. you weren’t sure anymore. the air grew heavy with sleep, but neither of you wanted to go.

you listened, half on your side, chin propped against your arm. you didn’t interrupt much. it was easy to just watch her: eyes lit up in the half-darkness, hair falling over her cheek as she talked and talked, until her words slowed, slurred.

then, just like that, she had fallen asleep next to you, passed out halfway through a sentence about lara who kept eating takis for breakfast. on her side, facing you, her breath soft and uneven like she hadn’t let herself rest in a long time.

you hadn’t really slept. drifted in and out, conscious of her shoulder close to yours, of the faint scent of citrus shampoo and something distinctly hers; familiar in a way that tugged at your stomach. you woke properly around five.

the sun wasn’t up yet, but the street was breathing again, slow and mechanical; the sounds of early vendors pushing carts and mopeds slicing through quiet roads.

you sat up slowly, rubbed your face and padded out into the bar. the tiles were cold against your feet. it grounded you. you brewed the coffee first. hers, not yours. you remembered the way she used to complain when it wasn’t sweet enough, that dramatic gagging sound she would make before calling you a psychopath.

two and a half teaspoons brown sugar, one teaspoon coffee. you made it without thinking - muscle memory.

in the kitchen, you got to work. rice hit the pan with oil, garlic dancing in the heat. you cracked eggs and fried longganisa until the edges crisped and curled. added the chorizo de cebu she always claimed tasted different in manila. you plated it the way she liked: egg yolk whole and shiny, meat slightly charred, a slice of tomato and cucumber on the side like it meant something.

you barely heard her footsteps until she was leaning against the doorframe, hair messy, shirt hanging loose around her collarbones.

“that smells so good,” she croaked out, voice low and rough from sleep.

you turned. “coffee’s on the bar.”

“you’re a dream,” she added, padding over barefoot.

you caught her out of the corner of your eye — how she curled her hands around the mug, how her eyes fluttered shut after the first sip.

and then, like it wasn’t anything at all, she said: “i love you.”

your body locked up inside; heart caught mid-beat, hands suddenly unsure where to rest.

she said it like people say ‘thank you’ or ‘god, this is good coffee’ — easy, half-asleep, automatic. not weighted.

but your brain didn’t care about tone. or context. your brain heard i love you in her voice and it lit up like a fucking traffic accident. she didn’t mean it, she couldn’t have.

still, your stomach twisted with the ghost of what it would’ve felt like if she had. you didn’t say anything. just plated the food and set it down, sliding it across the counter toward her.

she smiled, eyes half-closed, murmured “you spoil me” and dug in. you sat across from her, picked at your own plate, letting the quiet settle again.

no one came in early on sundays. the place was still.

“when are you leaving?” you asked, the words quiet but clear.

she chewed, then shrugged. “i don’t know yet,” she replied, stuffing her face with rice. “i think i want to stay longer…i know i can.”

you looked at her. she didn’t meet your gaze, just sipped her coffee and stared at the far wall like she was still working it out.

“what about you?” she asked.

“don’t work sundays, usually. might visit my family in quezon. bring my lola some empanadas.”

she grinned. “she’ll pretend not to like them.”

“always.”

she toyed with her fork. “i’m filming a brand thing later,” she began to say, then looked up, suddenly hesitant. “but…would you wanna come? or, i don’t know, wait for me so we can go together to quezon?”

you blinked. “come to your shoot?”

“if that’s okay, i can pick you up?”

you nodded. “yeah, of course…pick me up from here.”

her shoulders relaxed. you didn’t know she had been holding tension there.

after breakfast, she helped stack dishes into the tub. she noticed the fresh burn on your forearm; angry and red, skin bubbled from a splash of oil the night before. you tried to cover it but she caught your wrist, gently.

“where’s your first aid kit?”

“it’s gross —”

“it’s not,” she argued. “always looked after your clumsy ass, trust me, i’ve seen worse injuries from you.”

“fine,” you sighed in defeat, pointing towards the white cabinet by the sink. “right over there.”

you watched her disinfect it, cut the gauze, taped it down like she had done it before. her brows drawn, tongue poking out slightly as she focused.

she was always like that — meticulous with care, even when you didn’t deserve it.

you looked down at her hands on yours and felt something press low and quiet in your chest. she was just wrapping the tape when her phone rang.

you pulled your hand back gently. she looked at the screen and sighed. “it’s mum.”

you nodded, stepping back. “take it.”

leaning back, you remained seated on the barstool as she slipped off hers and walked a few steps away, phone pressed to her ear. her voice changed immediately: softer, brighter, familiar in a way that tugged something loose inside your chest. you remembered her talking like that to tita carla on your lola’s rooftop when you were kids, pacing in bare feet, laughing about her day, whole face lighting up like she didn’t know how to dim it.

hearing that tone now…after all this time, felt like being dropped into a version of yourself that hadn’t been folded down yet.

you lowered your gaze to the bandage on your arm. it was neat. clean. it still stung, but much less now and her touch still lingered in your skin.

then, without warning, sophia was holding out the phone as you looked up; her eyes warm, mouth curved in a small smile.

“mum wants to say hi.”

you blinked. “me?”

“yes. smile.”

you took the phone. “hello, tita?”

“anak! y/n!” the joy in her voice was immediate, like nothing had changed. “thank you, ha? for looking after our baby girl last night. she never listens to me. i’ve been telling her to just drop by so you don’t run away.”

ah.

you laughed softly. “it’s nothing, tita. she’s easy to feed.”

“she told me she slept at your restaurant! you poor things, that couch must be awful. but at least you had good food. y/n, i still remember your sinigang — hay nako, my mouth is watering just thinking about it.”

you laughed, could already picture her, barefoot in the kitchen, a towel thrown over one shoulder, probably waving her hand as she spoke.

“you have to come visit,” she continued. “i want to see your mum. bring her! and your lola, if she’s not feeling too suplada. we’ll cook.”

you said yes to everything, laughed when she insisted you come over this week and promised to text her.

when you handed the phone back, sophia groaned and rolled her eyes. “she said the driver’s already outside.”

you tried to smile, but it faltered. there was something unspoken on her face, stretched thin beneath her usual calm. she didn’t want to leave. that much was obvious.

the same way you didn’t want to be the one she had to leave from. you both stood in silence for a few seconds, neither making the first move.

then she reached for her jacket and followed you through the kitchen. the staff room was still dim, quiet in that particular sunday morning way like the place knew the chaos had already passed.

the hallway to the back door felt longer than usual as you held it open for her.

the sun was out now, high enough to warm the concrete. the maroon suv was parked just beyond the alley’s end, hazard lights blinking softly. the driver stepped out and nodded once, expression unreadable.

sophia adjusted the strap on her bag but didn’t move.

you stood beside her, not sure what else to do. it felt like if you said anything, it would undo whatever peace had formed between you over breakfast. perhaps even over the night itself.

she turned to you just as the driver opened the back door. “can i ask you something you might not answer?”

you tilted your head. “what is it?”

her eyes searched yours for a second longer than they needed to. “did you ever think about us? where would we be if i hadn’t left?”

the question landed low and deep, like a stone dropping into still water.

you looked down, then back at her. something in you cracked open, gently. you looked at her properly, throat tightening. she was looking at you intensely. “…in what way, piya?”

she shook her head, not unkindly. “you know what i mean.”

your heart beat in your ears, hands suddenly feeling like they didn’t belong to you. and still, you held her gaze.

“yeah,” you admitted. “i did.”

she nodded once like she had always hoped you would say that. you didn’t say anything else. neither did she.

then she got in the car.

you stood there until it turned the corner and disappeared from view.

something old had shifted. you could feel it.

whether that was good or dangerous, you didn’t know yet but it had a name.

and it was hers.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

twenty years ago

your lola had a way of dragging you into places you didn’t belong. she said it was character-building; that brushing shoulders with the rich might remind you to stand taller, even if your slippers were patched with thread and your shirt was two sizes too big.

you were five, tired and annoyed that sunday was being stolen from you again.

“just behave,” she warned as you stood outside the gates of a house too big to be real. “and don’t touch anything.”

you kept your hands locked behind your back.

forbes park was a place you only heard about in passing: on the jeepney, in the sari-sari store, from the mouths of women who folded laundry while daydreaming out loud. mansions with proper gates and real grass, where drivers waited in parked cars and mothers had help just to hold umbrellas. your lola knew sophia’s lolo from a church thing, you didn’t know the details.

all you knew was that your school shoes still had dried mud on them and that you didn’t want to be here.

the front door opened before your lola even rang the bell. someone must’ve been watching; the housekeeper smiled and told you both to come in. your slippers squeaked against the polished floor as you followed your lola like a shadow, trying not to look at the paintings on the wall, or the glass table you were sure would shatter if you breathed too hard.

“there she is,” someone said. a voice that didn’t rush, but didn’t slow down either.

you turned.

a girl with two high ponytails and a missing front tooth was skipping down the stairs like she owned gravity. she was wearing a sundress with tiny sunflowers and had one sock up and one sock missing entirely. bright-eyed, messy, loud.

you liked her immediately…hated that you did.

“this is y/n,” your lola introduced you, nudging you forward. “say hello to piya, anak.”

“hi,” you mumbled, eyes darting to the floor.

“i’m sophia,” the girl said, walking straight up to you without hesitation. she didn’t offer a hand. she grabbed yours instead, sticky and warm from holding a half-eaten popsicle. “do you like jollibee?”

you nodded, unsure.

“my dad bought spaghetti and chickenjoy,” her grin widened. “come, we’ll eat in my room.”

you looked back at your lola for assurance, she waved you on, already being ushered to the dining area by sophia’s mother.

her room was the size of your whole house. there were shelves filled with dolls still in their boxes and a tv that actually had cable. she dragged you to the floor, offering you her jollibee spaghetti first, then pushing a plate of fries toward you like it was a peace treaty.

you ate slowly; she talked non-stop.

about how her driver always gets lost, how she’s going to be famous one day, how she wants to live in new york because they have squirrels.

you had no idea what squirrels were but you nodded anyway.

and somewhere in between her talking about her dog, peanut, and showing you how she can do a cartwheel (badly), she said:

“let’s be friends forever.”

like it was the most normal thing to promise a stranger.

you stared at her, sauce still clinging to your lips, unsure if you were supposed to say it back.

but you said it anyway.

“okay.”

because deep down, even then, some part of you already knew: if anyone could make you believe in forever, it was none other than sophia laforteza.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the studio was chaos in that specific, almost theatrical way, like someone had tried to contain a cyclone inside four white walls and called it fashion. flashes cracked in quick bursts, overlapping instructions flew across the room: hold that, chin up, yes, that’s it, softer; and assistants weaved through the mess. makeup brushes tapped against palettes, someone was yelling about missing palettes and the speakers blasted a remix of a song you half-recognised but couldn’t place.

everything smelled like hairspray and coffee and nerves.

sophia walked in with easy posture, nodding at familiar faces, flashing the kind of half-smile that made people move aside.

she held your wrist briefly, pulling you a step closer towards her. “i won’t be long,” she murmured. “just…stay close to me, yeah?”

you nodded, gave her a faint smile. “i’ll be here.”

there was nowhere to go, really, so you didn’t move far. there were clusters of people, all of whom looked like they were already doing something important. you stood near a light stand, arms crossed lightly over your chest, eyes scanning the room.

it was overwhelming, but in that detached way - like watching a party from behind a window. you kept to the edges, tried to blend in, maybe even failed a little.

your phone buzzed in your pocket, but you didn’t check it. instead, you watched sophia disappear behind the makeup screen, already mid-conversation with a stylist. she tossed a quick glance back at you, smiling for just a second and you smiled back; felt something stupid and warm settle under your skin.

“bini girls!” someone yelled. “maloi, aiah let’s go.”

you didn’t expect the shoot to involve them but when one of the stylists called out names, you heard it clearly.

your brain definitely short-circuited for a moment as you tried to keep your cool. lowkey fan didn’t even cover it: you watched their dance practice videos like they were stress therapy, recommended lagi to aira during the slow month last year.

and now they were here: in the same room, wearing crocs and no makeup and carrying iced americanos like it was the most casual thing in the world.

“come here, y/n,” sophia pulled you out of your starstruck trance, voice carrying across the noise.

you nodded once, stepping around the cables carefully and stood beside her.

the makeup artist — small-framed, sharp-browed, probably could kill with a single brush stroke, grinned as you settled in. “so, you’re the mystery guest?”

you laughed once, shaking your head. “just moral support.”

her eyes flicked up at you in the mirror and she smiled a little too quickly.

“she keeps looking for you,” he added, dabbing blush across her cheek. “i thought you were her girlfriend or something.”

“we’re not,” you answered, voice steady despite feeling awkward. “just old friends.”

“ahhh, old friends,” the artist echoed, mock-suspicious. “sure.”

sophia was grinning now, eyes shut while her eyeliner got cleaned up. “he’s always like this, ignore him.”

“don’t ‘stop’ me. you haven’t taken your eyes off her since she walked in.”

you looked down at your hands, heart thudding, pretending to focus on a bracelet you weren’t wearing.

“she’s shy,” she added, tone teasing.

you kicked her lightly under the table.

you stayed like that for a while, talking about nothing and teased each other back and forth. you kept nudging her foot with yours under the makeup chair, the moment felt light, like something you could get used to.

eventually, the stylist gestured you to move so they could get her dressed. you stood, backed off with a quiet “good luck,” and wandered toward the far end of the studio, near the coffee table cluttered with water bottles, oat milk and half-eaten croissants.

you turned to your side and there they were.

“you’re the chef, right?” maloi asked, eyes wide and a little warm. “the one from concave?”

you blinked. “hmm, yeah, that’s me.”

she grinned. “your sisig got a write-up in spot.ph, didn’t it? i’ve had it bookmarked for months. oh, i’m maloi and this is aiah.”

you felt your mouth twist into something shy. “i’m y/n, and that was more chef kristoff’s doing. but thanks.”

“maloi wants to be fed all the time,” aiah mumbled, smiling from beside her. “she saw your name on the guest sheet and hasn’t shut up about you possibly bringing a meal for the crew.”

“i did not,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

you held your hands up. “i’m flattered. really. next time, i will though.”

they were easy to talk to: normal. maloi was quick-witted, had a dry sense of humour that matched yours better than it should’ve. she teased you about bigger proportions. you told her a boy group’s sound engineer had once tried to book a table under a fake name and still got recognised by chef aira.

aiah leaned in slightly, curious. “how do you and sophia know each other?”

“we grew up together,” you replied, crossing your arms. “we’ve known each other since we were five; her lolo knows my lola.”

there was a tug in your chest as the words left your mouth — how easily the past rolled off your tongue, how strange it felt to say grew up instead of have always been…as if the closeness belonged in past tense now.

“that’s kind of sweet,” maloi said. “and now she’s this huge star and you’re —”

“a tired chef with second-degree burns and a restaurant with an aggressive rice cooker,” you offered.

“still sounds cooler than us,” aiah laughed.

you smiled and deflected, asking about their shoot instead and maloi lit up describing it; how the concept was loose, that their manager still hadn’t picked final outfits.

aiah nodded along, interjecting now and then with dry humour. it helped that maloi had that kind of energy — disarming, quick to laugh, easy to match. you found yourself leaning into the conversation, even joking a little, answering their questions without filtering too much.

from across the room, you could feel her gaze.

sophia saw the way you stood; more open now. your hands loose in your pockets and laughing effortlessly. she caught the way maloi leaned toward you slightly when she spoke, saw the little smile you gave aiah after a joke.

her stomach turned…not violently, but just enough to feel it.

when your eyes met hers, her hair was pinned back and her expression unreadable. she looked…irritated. or maybe not that. she wasn’t talking to anyone; just watching you.

when she finally joined the other two for the shoot, the difference was immediate. she flipped back into performer mode so fast it made you feel like you were watching someone else entirely. her posture shifted. her face reset.

the camera loved her. and still, your eyes didn’t leave her.

she looked unreal, as if she lit from the inside, almost. every time she turned her head, your chest seized up a little. the sound of the shutter seemed to match your pulse.

at the end of it, the four of you gathered near the props table, sharing snacks and wiping off the stickiness of set lighting.

“so,” maloi began. “what do you feed her to make her skin glow like that?”

you chuckled. “sinigang. three-day-old reheated kind; the secret is neglect.”

aiah laughed with you. “we’ll take two.”

sophia didn’t smile, not really. she nudged a biscuit around on a napkin. when maloi turned to offer her a joke, sophia grinned, but her tone shifted.

you noticed the change immediately. the way she looked at you without really looking.

“you okay?” you asked her under your breath.

“fine,” she mumbled, eyes flicking back toward the food.

she was still friendly to the others; complimenting aiah’s earrings, laughing at something maloi said about posing like a tita at a reunion, but when she spoke to you again, it was clipped.

the conversation kept rolling, but you felt the dip in temperature. the little shift. you caught the way sophia kept talking to the other girls, laughing more now, but not looking your way.

you didn’t say anything. not until the goodbyes were done and you had promised everyone a free table at concave.

the drive back was slow, caught in the usual saturday night crawl along edsa, headlights flickering through rain-streaked windows.

the city was winding down, but the car wasn’t quiet in a peaceful way. it was the kind of quiet that pressed into your chest, made you conscious of every breath you took, of the space between your leg and hers.

sophia had barely said a word since you left the studio, just scrolled through her phone in silence; screen lighting her face in bursts.

you glanced at her briefly. she refused to look your way. hadn’t, since earlier. “you good?”

“what did you think of maloi?” she deflected your question, voice too casual to be casual.

you blinked, pulling yourself out of your thoughts. “she’s great,” you answered, keeping your voice even. “really easy to talk to — just like aiah.”

there was a beat of silence and then she gave a little huff, almost a scoff. “yeah, both seem like your type.”

you frowned, turning your head to face her properly. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“nothing.”

“you’re literally saying it means something,” you frowned, trying not to let your tone rise. “you brought maloi up.”

“i just noticed you two were getting along,” she replied, still not meeting your eye. “it’s not a crime.”

you exhaled through your nose, felt the burn of frustration settle in your throat. “you jealous or something?”

that made her laugh, dry and small. “of course not, why would i be?”

“don’t know, piya. you’re acting weird and short.”

she finally turned to you then. her expression was unreadable, but her jaw was tense. “you were different with her.”

you stared at her. “i was polite.”

“you were smiling and laughing and she was inching closer to you every single time.”

“am i not allowed to laugh around other people now?” you asked, tiredness creeping into your voice. “she made a joke. i laughed. you know what that’s like, right?”

she didn’t respond. she just looked away again, out the window, fingers twitching against her thigh.

you leaned your head back against the seat, stared up at the roof of the car like it could anchor you. you weren’t sure why this felt so loaded; why it mattered so much to her.

and yet — her words kept needling at you. the sharpness of her tone tucked under the soft. it made your chest ache in ways you had tried to outgrow.

“are you seriously upset about her?” you added, trying not to sound defensive, but already failing.

“no,” she said, too fast.

you turned your body slightly toward her, fingers curling into your thigh. “you are. you’re acting so cold.”

she scoffed under her breath. “i’m not.”

“okay,” you murmured, eyes narrowing as you turned back to the window. “right.”

the tension thickened. there was a time when you knew exactly how to reach her, how to read her mood with one glance, a shift in her jaw, a clipped breath. but now…after all these years; she felt like a puzzle you only half-remembered how to solve.

“it’s just…” she started, then trailed off.

you waited, nothing came. “just what, soph?”

she inhaled slowly, still refusing to look at you. “you don’t even realise when someone’s flirting with you. it’s kind of frustrating.”

you bit back a laugh, not because it was funny, but because it caught you off guard. “my god, it wasn’t flirting. we were literally at a coffee station talking about my restaurant.”

“sure,” she muttered.

“maloi has a boyfriend.”

“doesn’t make it any better.”

you sighed, long and low, before leaning back into the seat and closing your eyes for a beat. “this is ridiculous.”

“you’re ridiculous.”

you turned to look at her again, and this time, her eyes met yours. sharp and tired. there was something else behind them too: something raw, maybe even a little embarrassed.

you remembered that look: she used to wear it when you were kids, whenever she said something she didn’t mean and didn’t know how to take it back.

she would get defensive, go quiet, pick at her fingernails. you saw all of that now, right in front of you, like nothing had changed.

you turned your head slowly to look at her. her eyes were down now, lashes casting shadows on her cheeks, fingers playing with the frayed hem of her sleeve.

the silence this time was worse.

so you reached out without thinking. your hand found hers, warm and unsure in your palm. then you slid it over gently, placed it on top of hers the way you used to when you were kids. a quiet offering. a wordless ‘tahan na’ in the middle of everything that wouldn’t come out right.

she froze, breath hitching.

you didn’t look at her but you kept your eyes on your joined hands, the way her fingers curled slightly under yours, like they remembered.

“i’m sorry,” she spoke after a while, voice lower now. “i didn’t mean to get weird. i just…”

“i know.”

the streets rolled by outside, a slow blur of taillights and neon. and in the dimness of the car, something shifted back into place.

perhaps, you could both live with this thing between you, whatever it was. even if neither of you had the words for it yet.

you kept your hand there the rest of the ride. and she didn’t let go.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

tonight, concave belonged to people who knew how to take their time. you had forgotten how warm a restaurant could feel when it wasn’t just a job, when the air wasn’t heavy with orders and wait times and burnt pots.

the long table had been set earlier in the afternoon under low-hanging lights strung along the ceiling beams, soft shadows stretched across white linen and mismatched cutlery. there were extra chairs lined up just in case someone brought someone else last minute.

sophia and diana had planned it all; something about old friends and new chapters. you didn’t argue, just happy to cook.

in the bar, yohan looked more alive than he had all week. he stood behind the counter like it was his stage, lazily tossing lemons in the air while aira’s portable speaker blared old r&b. a playlist from the group chat titled “for the soul.”

one of the katseye girls, lara, maybe, was already perched on a stool with a glass of something bright and citrusy, her laugh carrying over to the kitchen.

yohan still couldn’t look at her.

in the kitchen, it was hell but the good kind. you were sweating through your shirt, wrists sore from all the chopping and ladling. the air was thick with the smell of sinigang, tamarind sharp in your nose and somewhere behind you, liempo sizzled against hot grill bars. herbs and spices clung to the counters and lumpia oil popped loudly in the corner fryer.

someone’s empty beer bottle clinked on the prep table, probably kristoff’s. he and leo were hovering near the turon like they hadn’t eaten in weeks and aira kept swatting their hands away with a spatula.

you stirred the sinigang, tasted it quickly off the back of the ladle and added a little more fish sauce. everything else could burn as long as the broth hit the right spot.

then, through the steam and haze, she appeared.

sophia…black dress, hair down, neckline low. she looked like she didn’t belong in this kind of heat; like the sweat, the fish sauce, the clatter of a dozen moving parts couldn’t touch her. she walked in quietly, barefoot now, heels probably left under the table. you didn’t notice her at first, not until she stood beside you and reached for the paper towel roll, tearing a piece off in one slow motion.

“you’re drenched,” she murmured and gently dabbed your forehead. “you’re gonna get sick if you don’t wipe it off - let me wipe your back.”

“what?”

your hand stopped mid-stir, her touch was soft. too soft. her fingers near your hairline, warm and clean and steady. you didn’t look at her. you couldn’t, not when your chest had just betrayed you by clenching up so fast.

she rolled her eyes. “lift the back of your shirt up.”

“i can do it,” you insisted, reaching for more paper towels but her hand stopped you. “piya…”

“what? you’re suddenly too grown for me to do it?” she clicked her tongue as she shook her head, lifting your shirt up to dab paper towels on your back. “now, wasn’t so hard hey?”

“ayieeeee!” kristoff’s voice cracked through the kitchen like a slap. followed by laughter, loud and terrible and echoing. you heard the clang of something dropped.

you finally turned your head, saw her smiling. lips pressed together like she was trying not to make it worse.

“ignore them,” she said, handing you the scrunched-up towel.

you blinked. “this is a kitchen. you can’t be in here with your untied hair.”

“then hurry up and feed us so i can be soft somewhere else, chef.”

you snorted, eyes darting toward the sinigang pot again, your pulse still uneven. “just sit back and wait for the best meal of your life.”

“always is,” she chuckled and walked out.

the second the door swung closed behind her, aira’s panic returned at full volume.

“oh my god,” she whisper-yelled, pacing near the fryer. “i cannot do this. that was sophia laforteza. she was here, again, in this kitchen. and now we have to plate food for her. and for katseye. literal katseye members!”

leo, ever useless, dramatically picked up a serving tray and bowed like a butler. “madam manon, may i present your steaming hot garlic rice and humble peasant lumpia.”

kristoff followed suit. “miss yoonchae, your turon awaits on a bed of banana leaf — harvested from davao’s finest plantation.”

she looked like she might faint; pale-faced and terrified. “can you both shut the fuck up? i’m having a crisis.”

“just act normal,” you muttered, laughing as you wiped your hands on your apron. “they’re regular people.”

“regular people with millions of followers and abs sculpted by the divine.”

“aira, breathe,” leo said, flinging a turon piece into his mouth. “you’re sweating more than the sinigang and y/n.”

before she could throw something at him, diana’s voice called from the hallway. “babe, where’s the leche flan?”

kristoff looked up, startled; he wore the face of someone who knew he fucked up. “uhhh, i thought i heard you say you were taking it.”

“excuse me?” she leaned halfway into the kitchen, fully done up in a green satin dress and gold hoops that caught the light. “do you think i’m stupid? i clearly remember our conversation, stop gaslighting me!”

he put his hands up in defeat. “you told me you had it covered. i asked! remember? i said, ‘babe, do i need to grab the leche flan from the fridge’ and you said ‘no, it’s sorted.’ sorted! those were your words.”

“don’t you try to gaslight me, kristoff, you fucking had one job,” she groaned in frustration. “next thing i know, it’s going to be our kids you’ll be forgetting to pick up.”

their back-and-forth spiralled quickly into a domestic episode while the rest of you watched in muted horror and amusement. you shook your head, heart full. it shouldn’t have felt this easy, but it did.

this kitchen, the mess, the arguing, the way diana rolled her eyes at kristoff like she has been doing it since she was fourteen; it reminded you of afternoons when you were still in high school, squeezing into godfrey’s car with takeaway wrappers at your feet and anthony’s guitar neck digging into your ribs.

it was all of you, all together again…for the first time in years. and this time, no one was leaving. not yet.

when the food finally made its way out, it spread across the long table like a painting you didn’t know you were capable of. it was almost overwhelming.

banana leaves ran the length of the wooden table, their glossy green catching the candlelight. the sinigang sat in clay pots at both ends, the steam curling in lazy spirals. grilled liempo, slightly charred and glistening, was laid across the centre beside the golden lumpia, fresh from the fryer.

small ceramic bowls of spicy patis and vinegar, each one glowing with floating chillies, were scattered in between. garlic rice was heaped into giant mounds and turon drizzled with coconut caramel waited for their moment.

it wasn’t exactly a traditional boodle fight; there were plates and forks involved, people here were too pretty and too moisturised for the usual rules — but it had the same spirit.

loud, messy, communal.

and the drinks didn’t stop. yohan was on his 20th shaker (had to be), pouring cocktails into anything that could hold liquid. beers clinked aira was screaming about how her eyeliner hadn’t even smudged despite all the oil she had inhaled and kyle turned the speaker louder.

you had barely sat down when a hand tugged you into a space between manon and lara.

“chef,” lara grinned, already halfway through her plate, “this sinigang is life-changing. like…actually life-changing. i think i saw god.”

you laughed awkwardly, trying not to trip over your chair. “it’s just sinigang.”

“just?” she gasped, turning to sophia with mock betrayal. “you never told me she was this good. baby, you’re lucky.”

sophia only raised her cocktail and gave her a look that didn’t say much, but it didn’t need to.

manon tilted her head at you, eyes sharp but not unkind. “did you train abroad?”

“uh — no,” you said, swallowing the sudden nervous tightness in your throat. “i studied here. ust.”

“classic,” she nodded in approval. “it’s always the ones who stay home who get it right.”

megan nudged daniela, chewing on a lumpia. “we’ve been following concave for a while. sophia talks about it so much, i had to see what the hype was. it’s unreal.”

your heart did a stupid skip. you tried to downplay it with a small nod. “i didn’t know she…talked about it that much.”

“yes! she showed me photos of the recent tasting menu like it was her baby.”

you glanced at sophia across the table. she was eating quietly, smiling to herself.

“so,” daniela piped up, chopsticks in hand, “are you always this quiet? or just because our sophia’s here?”

you choked on your beer, coughed once. “no, i — i mean yes. i mean…i’m just bad with new people.”

lara snorted into her rice. “you’re doing fine.”

yoonchae had been sitting across, quiet but observant, smiled softly and said, “can i help clear plates later?”

you shook your head. “no, no, just enjoy.”

“okay,” she replied, still smiling. “but really…are you single?”

your laugh came out caught somewhere between real and choked. “uhh, yeah.”

megan sipped her cocktail. “so is sophia.”

sophia rolled her eyes, but said nothing. manon threw her head back. “can you get a girlfriend already?” she said to her. “someone who cooks like this, preferably.”

lara leaned in again. “you two have real chemistry; just saying.”

“y/n’s only ever emotionally available for sophia,” leo laughed when you glared at him. “it’ll work.”

you wanted to slide under the table and disappear. your hands and chest were hot. even your knees felt like they’d been caught in a lie.

it was surreal, the way they all just made room for you. these women, so famous they didn’t need surnames, so beautiful it hurt to look at them sometimes. but they weren’t difficult. not at all intimidating once the food hit the table. they teased and asked questions and passed plates around like they had known you longer than an hour.

it was easy in a way that surprised you.

“so kyle,” diana was saying. “you’re going back on the ships?”

“as soon as that damn contract gets finalised,” he sighed, picking at the liempo. “they’ve been dragging it out, but i miss the ocean and getting paid to disappear.”

aira clinked her fork against his plate. “you miss not paying rent to your brother.”

“same thing.”

somewhere down the table, kristoff was explaining how he proposed by hiding the ring in diana’s karaoke mic. aira had everyone wheezing with her rant about her ‘stupid’ boyfriend who refused to learn how to use gcash.

then, just when the buzz had started to mellow into comfort, anthony leaned back in his chair, a smirk curling at his lips. “let me tell you girls something —” he pointed his fork between you and sophia. “— we all used to think these two would end up together.”

sophia’s face went red, ducking behind her glass like it could save her from god.

you glared at him, face burning. “here we go.“

“what? we did!” he declared. “ask diana.”

the way sophia looked now, pretending not to hear. you knew what he meant. and it wasn’t the first time someone had said it, but it was the first time it made you ache.

“best friends,” you corrected, eyes fixed on your drink but something shifted. it hit you with more force than you expected, a note played too loud in an otherwise gentle song.

did you think about it? of course you did. sometimes in the quiet and in your dreams.

and maybe even in all the things you never dared say.

kyle added. “nah, y/n was a wreck after you left, soph. she crashed out hard. wasn’t herself for a while.”

you groaned, already reaching for the turon. “i’m fine now.”

“she really wasn’t,” diana agreed. “barely spoke.”

sophia turned to you, pouty. she rubbed your back in slow circles. “i’m here now.”

you nodded, avoiding her eyes. “it was a long time ago.”

but it didn’t feel that way, not tonight.

by the time the meal was over, the night had softened into something else, more subdued. the drinks had been flowing for hours and most plates were empty or licked clean.

katseye had to fly back to los angeles in the morning, but sophia wasn’t going. she said it casually over dessert, told the girls she extended her stay by a week…just like that.

megan hugged you first. “thanks for dinner, chef,” she whispered. “she really likes being here.”

lara kissed your cheek. “take care of her, yeah?”

daniela gave you a once-over. “you’re kind of cool once you loosen up.”

manon just nodded and said, “we’ll come back. sooner than later.”

“please make sure you feed her,” yoonchae hugged you quietly, arms warm and light. “she forgets sometimes.”

you stood beside sophia as they climbed into their car, waving through the window, their hair slightly tousled from the manila humidity. they were loud even as the door shut. then the engine started and they were gone.

it wasn’t dramatic. no confessions, no big moment. just that strange, terrifying feeling of something unspoken.

something that never really left.

and then, of course, anthony had to ruin it. “more red horse for you lovebirds, eh?”

you groaned. “please shut up.”

but you were smiling. god help you, you were smiling.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

anthony was on his second bottle of red horse, red in the face and singing like he was on a stage somewhere deep in quezon. slightly swaying as the soft strum of bawat piyesa by munimuni crackled out from yohan’s old bluetooth speaker.

“to y/n and sophia,” he announced grandly, almost falling off his chair as he lifted his redhorse to raise a toast.

“stupid drunk,” you mumbled next to sophia.

she looked at you, grinning. “and you’re a sleepy one.”

god, you could get used to this.

the melody was tender, almost too tender for the thick beer haze they were all swimming in, but no one said a word. beside him, leo joined in, eyes half-closed as if it helped him find the right note.

you were humming gently to the rhythm, seated back in your chair, bottle cold in your hand. your head felt warm; tipsy. sophia kept stealing glances at you, that stupid fond expression on her face every time you accidentally caught her looking.

there was too much noise, too much singing, too much beer — but none of it felt overwhelming. just pretty fucking good.

and sophia…god, she was laughing like she hadn’t done it in years, hand to her chest, head tilted back slightly. she leaned toward you, brushing shoulders and that warmth lingered even after she shifted back.

kristoff had left with diana earlier, his arm slung over her shoulder as she threatened to make him sleep on the couch in hushed frustration. out the front, kyle and yohan were sharing a cigarette, their murmurs leaking through the gaps in the doors.

and aira, bless her, was still circling the table with her phone, snapping blurry photos of you and sophia together.

“for the kitchen wall,” she insisted before taking another shot from the worst angle possible.

you didn’t notice when sophia got up, only when she stood beside you, hand brushing the top of your shoulder. “come with me?” she asked.

you blinked. “what, now?”

“yeah,” her tone was softer than her laugh, careful. “just for a bit.”

no one said anything when you pushed your chair back. aira gave you a little wink, but you ignored it. sophia was already walking ahead, down the short path that led out to the side, the gravel crunching beneath her flats. you followed, the night shifting around you like the tide pulling back.

makati had stilled outside the roads were empty. someone’s tv was playing faintly in a nearby building, and the warm glow of the corner streetlight bled across the side steps of the restaurant.

it had cooled too. your cheeks were warm from the drink but the air was crisp, a reminder that it was well past midnight and the city had gone to bed.

there was a tree just beside the gate; old, overgrown and knotted in the middle like it had something to say. she looked back at you, then sat down on the low concrete edge. her hair was a little windswept, long dark strands catching in the breezeand the light hit her in a way that made her eyes seem darker, more open.

straight out of a magazine.

you hovered awkwardly until she patted the space beside her.

“just wanted to be alone with you for a bit,” she said quietly. you sat, not too close, your knees angled away from hers. the concrete was still warm from the day. she looked at you for a second, then murmured, “closer.”

you shifted, barely a few inches, but it was enough.

there wasn’t a rush to speak. silence settled easily. you listened to it, the crickets somewhere in the dark, the occasional honk from a jeep turning a corner blocks away. you looked sideways — she had her chin tilted up, staring at the leaves above her like she was waiting for the words to arrive there first.

then sophia turned to you, voice quieter. “do you remember the letter i mentioned?”

you nodded slowly.

“i wrote everything,” she continued. “poured it all out. what you meant to me. what i wished i’d said sooner. but there was a condition…i wrote that if you didn’t feel the same, then just pretend it never happened. don’t bring it up, don’t respond. i didn’t want to lose you completely and make it awkward.”

you turned to her. “what do you mean?”

she looked back at you then, properly. the lights from concave filtered across her face, a faint gold around her lashes.

she let out a breath that felt like it had been held for years. “i wrote that i was in love with you.”

your stomach dropped. for a moment, everything else vanished. the music, the beer, the laughter inside. you were a kid again, watching her through a window at the airport, your heart in your throat.

you swallowed, mouth dry. “sophia…”

“i didn’t consider you getting robbed,” she laughed weakly. “god, of all days. of course it would happen on the day i tried to say something real.”

“i didn’t know,” you began, almost to yourself, and your voice came out smaller than you meant.

“it was my fault,” she whisper, almost laughing, but there was no humour in it. “of course you didn’t. i didn’t even tell you i wrote anything before i left.”

you didn’t know what to say. all the moments rushed back — when you held her hand under the stars, how she brought gifts to your lola’s house, hugged you for too long and never said why.

“did you?” she asked. “feel the same?”

you turned to her, really looked. her eyes were glassy but open. ready.

“yeah,” you admitted, like weight off your shoulders. “i always have. maybe not in a loud way. but it was there. loving you felt like…breathing — didn’t have to think about it. it was enough for me just to see you happy.”

she blinked hard. then looked away, like it hurt to hear. “and now?”

you breathed in slow. “i don’t know, i’m still figuring it out.”

she nodded like she understood. she wasn’t expecting anything from you, not yet.

you looked at her, properly this time. “what are we doing?”

she let the question hang there, just for a second. “i don’t know either, i just know i like being near you. i like knowing who you are now. and i’m really glad i came back…even if it’s just for a little while.”

you weren’t sure who reached first, but your fingers found each other again, her thumb rubbing circles on your skin.

then, she leaned against your shoulder; the same way she used to when her mum picked her up late from dance class and she was too tired to speak.

you closed your eyes for a second, let the silence wrap around both of you. the streetlight buzzed overhead, someone inside laughed too loudly.

and still, the world outside held still for just a bit longer.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the laforteza family parties had always been loud. they weren’t wild in the traditional sense, but they carried a kind of well-fed chaos — every table heavy with food, every tita’s voice louder than necessary, every cousin appearing out of nowhere like they never left.

it had been held at their private residence in forbes park, a manicured lawn and a stone path lined with garden lights that looked like they were imported from europe.

you and sophia had arrived together in her manager’s van, sophia fixing her hair in the mirror while you adjusted the sleeve of the button-down she swore looked good on you. you hadn’t argued. you rarely did…not when she looked at you like that.

when she leaned over to get a taste of the mango float on your plate, her perfume brushed past you. vanilla and jasmine. something soft and expensive.

“you okay?” she asked, voice easy.

you nodded, giving her a small smile. “just nervous.”

she reached over and squeezed your hand, if only she knew how you could barely breathe whenever she did that. “you’ll be fine; they know and love you.”

and for a while, it felt like that might be true.

but somewhere between entering the gate and the fourth glass of wine being passed around, sophia got swept away. old friends, mostly from high school. the girls she cheered with; the boys whose names made her laugh in a way that said history.

you sat there, close enough to be part of the scene but distant enough to be forgotten by it. the chatter blurred into a high-pitched hum, broken by bursts of laughter you weren’t part of.

your plate stayed empty longer than it should’ve. you picked at the lumpia and finished your drink too quickly.

when you glanced over to the gazebo area, sophia was already standing alone with leon. they looked like a still from a glossy magazine, it was almost unfair how photogenic they were.

the sound of distant karaoke buzzed softly from a backroom. you were left in a sea of relatives and strangers, your name forgotten halfway through most introductions. you sat with godfrey and tita carla after a while, just to give your hands something to do — stirring the condensation on your glass of lemon, lime & bitters with a paper straw.

“how’s your mum doing, hija?” carla asked kindly, adjusting the pearls on her wrist. “she still makes your baon?”

you smiled politely. “every day. even if i say no. she’ll guilt trip me with her arthritis.”

godfrey laughed. “same old, huh.”

“same old,” you echoed, nodding.

the conversation drifted easily enough. he asked about concave. you gave him numbers — soft ones. told him about the new bookings for next week, how you were thinking of repainting the kitchen wall. he nodded, but you caught the way his eyes flicked towards your face, like he was measuring your answers against something else.

something quieter.

because you weren’t really there, not entirely. your eyes kept returning to the centre of the garden. sophia was with leon again, crouched by the sangria station, talking to a group of their old classmates.

leon handed her a glass and she laughed at something he said; head thrown back, hand brushing his arm as if by accident. the titas nearby were already whispering loud enough for you to hear.

“ay, they really look good together.”

“those two should — leon is a great guy.”

your ears started ringing, heard the soft clatter of a spoon fall into a bowl behind you.

they looked like a story that had kept going, even when you weren’t there to see it. there was ease in how they stood close and comfort in how the people around them saw them. and you?

you were just the friend she brought.

you forced a smile at godfrey’s next question — something about restaurant rent and local suppliers but your voice didn’t come. it stuck in your throat like something you had forgotten to chew. so you excused yourself instead; something about getting a refill.

the kitchen was quieter and the air smelled like grilled eggplant and sugar syrup. you poured yourself water, trying to cool down whatever you were feeling inside.

that’s when you heard it — muffled but clear. a girl’s voice, drifting from the hallway by the pantry. “…they tried dating after high school, right? i remember that. leon was so in love, i thought they would end up together.”

another voice chimed in, giggling. “same, they made such a good couple. it was such a bummer when it didn’t work — wait, didn’t sophia bring someone else to the party?”

“oh, that’s just her childhood friend; the chef from concave.”

you stood there with the glass half-full in your hand, staring at the tiles. something small curled and collapsed inside your chest and you felt it break without sound.

you didn’t know why that hurt more.

maybe you were always going to be the friend from childhood. the one who cooked, who people said kind things about, not the one people chose.

you were never going to belong in that world, either. it wasn’t about being intimidated; it was more about knowing you were the type of person who left parties early because small talk wore you out, who bought secondhand clothes, who used to split rent with four housemates and who grew up thinking happiness was only real when it was earned.

you walked out the side gate, didn’t say goodbye. but you barely made it to the end of the driveway when godfrey caught up.

“y/n,” he called out, breath caught between steps. “hey, what’s going on?”

you turned, tried to smile. “i’m just tired, tito. that’s all.”

he frowned, looked like he wanted to say more. but he didn’t stop you…just gave a small nod, one of those slow, uncertain ones men like him reserved for things they didn’t quite understand.

that night, your phone buzzed five, six, seven times. all her.

sophia: where are you?

sophia: are you okay?

sophia: please just tell me you’re safe.

you stared at the screen in your room, face lit blue by the light. you were in your worn out clothes now — your old high school shirt and some loose shorts. you kept the lights off and listened to the fridge hum.

told yourself to breathe through it but your chest wouldn’t settle.

because it wasn’t just about leon.

it was how easily she could forget you.

how easy it was for her to float through this world where everything was soft, familiar, and waiting…and how foreign it all still felt to you. you, who had to work for everything. still counted coins when the month stretched too long, didn’t wear sundresses or get handed glasses of sangria by boys that everyone liked.

your world was different; always had been. it worked when you were kids — barefoot and dreaming.

but now? she belonged to a different one. and maybe loving her was always going to feel like this. like almost and not enough.

you didn’t cry that night even though you thought you would. maybe the weight of it would crack somewhere soft inside your chest, but it didn’t. it just sat there, dull and unmoving, like a stone wedged into the lining of your ribs.

there was a dull ache in your lower back and a dry taste on your tongue when you woke up the next morning. it was barely seven. your phone was still off. you didn’t turn it back on; didn’t want to.

you didn’t want to see her name on your lock screen or read a paragraph that might explain things too late or worse: make you want to forgive her for something you couldn’t even name.

concave didn’t have you that day; you called aira and told her to run the kitchen. she joked that she was ready to burn the sinigang but her voice softened when she asked if you were okay. you said you were fine and she didn’t believe you, but she let it go.

you watered your plants, played the same bon iver record three times in a row, took a bath with the lights off. everything felt somehow muted like heartbreak repackaged into daily routine.

by mid-afternoon, the phone rang. the landline, surprisingly. it was your mum.

“anak,” she greeted, gently. “sophia came here. are you two okay?”

your stomach pulled in on itself. “what?”

“this morning. she looked like she hadn’t slept. said she just wanted to talk to you, but you weren’t answering any of her calls.”

you didn’t say anything.

“i didn’t ask questions. but she was holding something. a box of gifts, i think. and flowers. oh, and she gave me a really expensive chanel perfume and your lola a new set of china plates…that girl.”

you rubbed your eyes, felt that strange tightness creeping into your throat. “that’s good, ma, but what did you tell her?”

“that i don’t know where you are, even if i did. that if she really wants to talk, she should wait until you’re ready to listen.”

there was a long pause. you swallowed it down. “thanks, ma.”

“you okay?”

“not really.”

“you want me to cook?”

“maybe not.”

the day passed quietly. you cleaned your fridge out, cried for five minutes while slicing onions and threw out a tupperware that had gone grey. you almost turned your phone on at sunset; your thumb hovering over the button like it weighed more than your entire arm.

but you didn’t.

because the truth was, you didn’t know what would hurt more; knowing she meant everything or realising she didn’t know how to hold you when it counted.

and wasn’t that the thing about her?

sophia could light up a room, charm a crowd, make you feel like the only person on earth when she looked at you. but sometimes, when the lights dimmed and the music stopped, she forgot where she left you standing.

and you were tired of being forgotten.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the hours blurred together in the kitchen, one dish after another, the rhythm of prep and plating the only thing you could stand to follow. you had stopped replying days ago.

not just to the messages. to everything. to the world, really.

sophia had come by twice already this week. three, if you counted the morning yohan swore he saw her waiting outside in sunglasses and a jacket like a celebrity hiding from a scandal.

each time, you made them tell her you weren’t there.

“she asked if we could just tell you she stopped by,” leo muttered yesterday, drying spoons while stealing glances at you.

you didn’t reply, kept your head down, slicing eggplants into even strips until your fingers went numb from the chill of the cool room.

and today — today was the day she was leaving. you were aware for three days now since you started counting it down. plus, she had texted: intramuros. today. 11am. please just come. i don’t know what i did but i really miss you.

you didn’t answer.

instead, you buried yourself in prep. you had taken two 14-hour shifts back to back. didn’t let yourself sit for more than ten minutes at a time. it was easier, in here. surrounded by the steam of broth and the snap of fresh chillies hitting oil. it was was easy to convince yourself that numbness could pass for peace.

but everyone knew something was off.

you were talking less; the jokes you usually cracked over boiling sinigang broth had dried up. the sarcasm, the sharp but harmless way you used to scold the boys, gone. there was just you, hunched over the chopping board, sleeves rolled up, knife dancing across red onions like you were trying to make them cry first.

across the kitchen, kristoff watched you. you didn’t see it, but leo noticed him about to speak and shook his head. no.

aira, standing next to him, wiped her hands and mouthed go.

so he went.

“how long are you gonna do this?” he asked, leaning against the prep table with arms crossed, eyes calm but fixed. “she called diana. for the fourth time. asking if you’re okay, asking what she did. or if you hate her.”

you didn’t stop chopping. “i don’t hate her.”

“then what the fuck is this?”

you shrugged, feeling the heat crawl up your neck. not from the stove.

kristoff’s voice softened. “she’s leaving today, y/n.”

you placed the knife down and looked at him. “it’s better this way.”

“for who?”

you didn’t have an answer for that. or perhaps you did, but you were too tired to give it voice.

“you haven’t even responded to her last message, have you?” he continued. “the one she sent about today?”

your silence was enough of an answer.

he sighed, pushed off the table. “you don’t have to explain anything to me. but maybe you should ask yourself why you’re so afraid to see her. is it her? or is it you?”

then he left you there, the smell of chopped onions clinging to your hands, eyes stinging even though you hadn’t cried.

he quickly turned around, scoffing. “she came by again. yesterday, asking if you’d be in. you know what i said?”

you looked up at him.

“that you’re the most stubborn person i’ve ever met. and that if you didn’t get your shit together soon, you would end up losing something that could’ve been really fucking good.”

the kitchen fell quiet. even aira stopped pretending to sort cutlery. no one moved.

you didn’t say anything. you couldn’t. you kept hearing sophia’s voice in that last message.

your mind was spinning toward a future you couldn’t see clearly. five years from now. would you still be here, running the same station, pretending you hadn’t let something important slip through your fingers again? would sophia be in los angeles, too far gone to reach, too famous to touch?

you stared at the cutting board like it held answers. it didn’t. the thought of seeing her…having to explain that quiet ache sitting behind your ribs; it made you feel hollow.

not long after, you were snapped out of your trance by aira, who tapped your arm lightly.

“we need to tweak the ube recipe,” she began, a clipboard in hand. “thinking we should thicken the syrup? add edible flowers to the dish? for aesthetics?”

“sure,” you looked up, eyes glazed, and caught the clock above the fridge.

10:16 am.

a sudden jolt of panic pushed up your throat like bile. sophia. she would be waiting right now. maybe standing in the middle of intramuros, checking her phone every few seconds, hoping.

stupidly hoping.

your chest tightened.

without saying a word, you wiped your hands on your apron, untied it and tossed it onto the nearest hook.

kristoff looked up from the sink as you passed him on the way out. “where are you going?”

“to see her,” you replied, already halfway to the back door.

“finally,” he muttered under his breath.

aira just beamed, softly said: “go get your girl!”

the sky was greying by the time you made it out to the street. rain was threatening to fall but not quite yet. your steps were quick, head low, the jeepney ride from makati to manila a blur of dust and diesel and every reason you have ever had for leaving things unsaid.

you held onto the rail tightly as the jeep lurched over potholes. every time your phone buzzed in your pocket, your stomach clenched.

you didn’t check.

because your heart was in your mouth. you hated yourself for this; for running out in the middle of lunch, for possibly being too late, for the fact that a part of you still wanted her to be there.

but more than anything, you hated that you couldn’t keep her out. not really…even now, even still, you were chasing the same hope that always broke you.

you just wanted to see her.

if only for a moment.

if only to say goodbye.

if only to stop wondering what could’ve been.

what if this is it: what if this is the last time?

your heart thudded hard in your chest. you tried to slow it down. reminded yourself of the facts: she was leaving, she always going to leave. it was her thing now. planes, performances, exits. you could never follow.

but still, she asked to see you. begged. please.

you owed her that.

you owed yourself that.

the rain started halfway through buendia, light enough to blur the glass but heavy enough to make the roads smell like dust and wet pavement. you wiped your palms against your jeans and counted the stops. your stomach felt tight, jaw clenched so hard it hurt.

intramuros felt further than ever.

you had to…see her one last time, properly. not like the last time; where her voice was buried under laughter that wasn’t meant for you. you deserved a goodbye that didn’t feel like punishment. and maybe, probably, she deserved one too.

the streets of intramuros were slick with rain, cobblestones reflecting dim morning light that slipped through the low clouds. a few umbrellas dotted the plaza, mostly locals moving slowly, already resigned to the weather. the drizzle had started soft but steady, soaking through your hoodie as you stepped off the jeepney, heart thudding against your ribs like it didn’t want to be there.

you spotted her instantly.

sophia, sat on one of the stone benches just by the fountain, her head bent low like she wasn’t sure how long she could keep waiting. you paused, let yourself watch her for a second, like you haven’t in days. she looked tired, drenched in something heavier than just the weather, and still so unfairly beautiful that it ached.

you didn’t say anything as you approached. your shoes hit puddles with dull slaps. the sky was all steel above. sophia looked up and blinked, startled, then immediately stood.

you walked closer but didn’t reach for her. she stepped forward and hugged you tightly, arms wrapping around your shoulders like a reflex. damp warmth, all clove perfume and the shape of someone who had once been almost yours.

her voice was right at your ear. “can you talk to me, please?”

when she pulled back, her brows furrowed. she tried to catch your eyes, but you wouldn’t give them to her.

“why won’t you look at me?” she ask, stepping away. “why won’t you look at me, y/n?”

you stayed quiet. then her hands came up, cupping your face — not softly, just desperate. “do i mean nothing to you now?”

that hit you in the chest. not because it was true, but because it wasn’t. the truth was she meant too much, too deeply.

you finally looked her in the eye. and she flinched like she saw something in your expression that hurt her more than silence.

“say something,” she continued, voice cracking. thunder rolled somewhere in the distance and she flinched again, eyes darting to the clouds before coming back to you. “please.”

your gaze dropped to the cobblestone beneath your feet, blurred now with the beginnings of rainfall. “i’m sorry,” you said quietly. “for disappearing. it was just…easier.”

“easier?”

her eyes were so brown it almost hurt to look at; so filled with all the things you didn’t know how to hold.

you cleared your throat as she waited for you to continue. “there’s always going to be someone better for you,” you murmured. “someone who can give you the world.”

her brows pulled together, eyes narrowing. “why do you always do this?” her voice cracked. “why do you always make that choice for me?”

“because it’s true.”

“you’re a fucking coward.”

you flinched.

“you think pushing me away makes you noble?” she asked, frustration crawling out of her voice. “you think it makes you selfless? you’re just scared. scared of letting someone love you.”

you looked away again, watching the rain start to pepper the stone around you.

“we should leave. it’s about to come down harder,” you said, already trying to step back. “we should say our goodbyes.”

she laughed bitterly, the sound sharp and shaking. “you’re unbelievable,” her eyes were glassy now. “you think this was just some sweet reunion for me? a little nostalgia? god — y/n, i have been in love with you for years. and i thought maybe, just maybe, you felt the same way.”

your stomach dropped.

she continued, each word landing heavy.

“i can’t meet anyone else without thinking about you. i can’t even look at someone for longer than a minute without worrying if you’ll think i’ve moved on,” she took a shaky breath, tears pooling now. “because part of me is always waiting…just waiting for you to see me. really see me. and not push me away.”

she stepped closer.

“i love you,” she confessed, her voice softer. “and you don’t even have the decency to look me in the eye and say anything.”

the words repeated inside your head: i love you. but what good does love ever do?

she shoved you, lightly, like the words weren’t enough to carry the weight. “say something.”

your hands found her face before your mind caught up, warm skin under wet fingertips. her cheeks flushed with cold and hurt and heartbreak. her tears were silent now, mixing with the rain as it began to fall heavier.

you held her gently.

you told her not to look back.

“find someone who can give you the things i can’t,” you answered, voice softer now. “go chase your dreams. you’re more than this. more than me; there’s someone who’s not afraid of how much they love you.”

but sophia only looked at you, soaked now, cheeks slick, jaw clenched like she was trying not to break in half. she shook her head, wet hair flying. “fuck, y/n.”

“i’ve always been okay just loving you quietly. you don’t have to give me anything, piya.”

“i want to,” she cried. “i love you. i choose you. why can’t you just — why can’t you choose me too?”

“i’m scared,” you whispered.

“i am too,” she shot back. “but i’m here.”

you shook your head. “you’ll leave again. your life’s out there, soph. not here.”

“then i’ll come back,” her voice was rising now. “again and again and again if that’s what it takes, but you keep pushing me away like i don’t matter!”

you stared at her, voice hollow. “you matter too much.”

“then tell me, why can’t you choose me?”

you swallowed. “because one day you won’t choose me back and i don’t know if i can survive that.”

you didn’t know what else to say - your mind was a spiral of everything you ever wanted and all the reasons you told yourself you didn’t deserve it. your thoughts kept folding in on themselves: memories of childhood, of her hand in yours, of the letter you never got to read, of the years you spent loving her quietly and alone.

she stepped back, rain dripping from her lashes.

“you think i forgot you when leon was around?” she snapped. “do you really think i ever looked at anyone the way i look at you?”

you didn’t answer.

“i was never with him. we tried once, years ago. it didn’t work because he wasn’t you.”

“but it’s so easy for you,” you mumbled, chest tight. “to laugh with him. to disappear into that world. i don’t belong there, i never did. you and i both know that.”

she stared at you like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. then something shifted in her face — something cracked.

she clenched her jaw, her eyes flashed. and she stepped forward.

you turned away. and that was when she grabbed you. fists balled in your shirt, mouth trembling, voice raw: “why won’t you let me love you?”

then she slammed her lips against yours.

it was angry and messy and soaked through with years of almosts. her lips collided into yours like a storm as everything she hadn’t said was stored in her mouth and now you were finally allowed to taste it.

your hands found her waist, pulling her in, your body betraying every fear you had ever held. her hands cupped your face again like she needed to hold you steady.

if she didn’t, she would fall apart.

you felt everything all at once: how long she had waited, how much she had wanted, how deeply she was willing to ache just to be loved by you.

and you hadn’t kissed anyone like that before. not in your entire life.

when you finally pulled apart, breathless, soaked, the air thick with everything unsaid…you didn’t know what to say.

the rain slowed into a drizzle, the kind that lingered like fog on your skin, soft and silver under the overcast light. you hadn’t let go of her yet, neither had she. your fingers were still curled around the hem of her hoodie, her forehead pressed against yours. every part of her was damp and trembling, but warm in the places where your bodies met.

you could still feel the echo of her kiss; bruised and tender and honest.

she exhaled against your lips like it hurt to breathe without touching you. “i have a flight tonight,” she began, voice low and careful, as if saying it too loud might shatter the moment between you.

your stomach turned at the thought. not because she was leaving — because she might not come back.

but then she cupped your jaw again, steady this time, her thumb brushing the edge of your cheekbone. “but before i go, i need to know something.”

you stared at her, giving you the look she always used to give: certain and full of questions. it had never left, just grown quieter over the years.

“do i still have something to come home to?” she asked, not blinking. “to you?”

your mouth parted, but nothing came out. it took a breath, then another. your thoughts scrambled around all the reasons you had built up to keep her out: the distance, the history, the fear, the ache that never quite stopped.

but she was here. and suddenly, all of it felt so small compared to this.

you nodded, slowly at first, then with certainty. “yeah,” you said, voice breaking just enough to be real. “yeah, you do.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the end (for now)

[neoplatinum]

save a horse, ride a cowgirl | sophia laforteza

synopsis: the wife you never wanted to see again has re-appeared like a phantom, with nothing else but "let's get a divorce". you have more than a couple words to say to that effect.

pairing: (ex-ish) wife!sophia x cowgirl!reader

tags: angst, slow-burn, fluff, smut, g!p reader (don't like, don't read), tension, marriage troubles, guns (no one dies!), cheating but also not really cheating, slight religious themes, cowboys/cowgirls, a-list-celebrity!sophia, more...

wc: 14.5k

"you'll probably leave later, anyway it's love made in the usa"

it was on a tuesday. 

up by 5am, ready to get the daily chores moving. bold strides across your bedroom, feeling the hardwood creak under your feet as you cross into the bathroom. you give yourself a once over as you brush your teeth. the soreness from your daily activities wears into your body. 

loose hair falling over your brows as you wash your face. the water trickling through your hands, and a little wax to keep your hair back. 

afterwards, you’re whistling to yourself, light tunes that keep you in motion as you slide on the long thick denim pants, holster on the right side, and boots that have worn in over the years. 

your favorite black leather pair.

there’s nothing more serene than being in the quiet, the soft sounds of animals, and the wind blowing at the windchimes.

and soon you’re out the door, chewing on a stick. taking a long view of the most gorgeous yellows and oranges peering just over the horizon, lifting slowly into the sky.

signaling yet another day on this planet.

and with the click of the heel you’re headed down to the barn. stride in pace with the snapping of your fingers.

you can already see charlie in the distance, curled up next to the barn. soft breathing as his ears twitch.

you let out a whistle as you approach. and charlie has shot up like a lightning bolt. eyes alert and ears forward. the cattle dog making a mad dash for you when he spots you in the distance.

he halts to a quick stop and sits in front of you, panting loudly.

“good boy, let’s get our day started.” you give him some pets as you continue to travel down the graveled path. he lets out a loud bark and runs for the chicken coop. 

the chickens are clucking loudly, already rounding towards the fence. 

they know the drill, the sight of you in the early morning means feeding, and they’re happily clucking.

you unlatch the small door to the coop, reaching inside for a couple of eggs, and dropping them into a basket. you quietly fill the buckets of chicken feed, checking the troughs thoroughly and then closing the gate behind you, the basket full of eggs bouncing against your leg as you leave it on a crate.

you’re rounding the back to fill their pots with fresh water when you hear charlie.

your head perks up and you stride towards the sound. it's the loud kind of bark that hits you in the chest. sound rattling your body as he growls at something in the distance. 

your eyes following a dust trail that reveals a big car. one that’s unfamiliar, and one that definitely does not belong on these paths.

the dust from the ground is forming a cloud. shielding it until it comes to a stop by the entrance of your ranch. 

a big shiny grey suburban parks right out front.

“this can’t be any good, charlie.” you’re walking towards the car, listening to the heels click as you try and look into the car. 

it’s tinted and the dust cloud is settling. 

you get close enough before you shout.

“good morning, anything i can help you with?” there’s no movement. and you’re tempted to kick one of the headlights out. 

“this is private property, if you have no business here, then leave.” you shout again, hand clutching your belt buckle. 

charlie’s eyes are wide and he’s drooling, ready to attack at a moment’s call. he continues to bark until you pet him, and he stills. unlike him, you continue to tap your feet until you notice a movement.

one of the side doors opens, a tall man fitted in a black suit starts to approach you. sunglasses pressed up the bridge of his nose and without a smile to match.

“hello sir, are you lost?” you ask, and he’s got something in his hand. a manila folder that he hands to you, no further words.

you look at him a little puzzled, grabbing the folder and opening to the sight of: 

STATE OF NEW MEXICO

DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE WITHOUT CHILDREN.

and right there at the bottom of the page is that signature, the same one that you were smiling at years ago when you were getting married.

sophia laforteza wants a divorce.

you continue to stare at the papers, eyes already a bit blurry, the resounding thumping of your heart hitting your ears and all you can hear is the panic that ensues in your own body. it’s getting harder to breathe calmly.

you’re feeling the pressure hit your head, until you let out a shaky breath.

then you rip it to shreds, all of it. all the mentions of a divorce, you tear it right in his face. pieces of paper flying all over the ground. either for him or for yourself: the reminder that sophia signed this doesn’t exist anymore.

he doesn’t make any movements, face as stoic as he came.

“don’t ever come by here again.” you say slowly at him. he doesn’t move or respond. 

“did you hear me? or are you deaf?”

he’s quick to draw a gun, but not as quick as you, the barrel already aimed at him, trigger cocked back. and he’s aiming you down with his handgun.

“i’ll slam this bullet right in your family jewels if you don’t leave right now.” 

you poke it at his liver, and lower it slowly at his groin. he doesn’t flinch. and now you’re staring into sunglasses that stare back into you. the sun’s shining into your eye, but you keep your hand steady. not missing the way a bead of sweat drips down his forehead.

you’re both standing off from each other, and a door opens from behind him. you peek over his shoulder and wait for someone to show themself. he barely moves an inch and you’re already ready to blow him away. 

he tucks his gun away.

returning to the side of the car and lending a hand as someone gets out of the car.

your gun is still aimed at him.

and out she steps.

you swear to yourself that you must be sick, some parasite must have infected your brain functionality, infected your vision, infected the way your eyes are seeing the world. 

you blink a couple times, swear that the sun is hitting the figure and refracting the light in such a way that what you see before you cannot be true.

because in the flesh, your not-so-dead-ex-wife sophia is looking at you. 

“can you put the gun down? we need to talk.” she sighs. 

you let out an long breath, lowering the gun back into your holster.

so much for a relaxing tuesday.

--

in front of you is a woman you’re too familiar but not familiar enough with. she’s sitting in the home you two built but she doesn’t belong.

she looks even more gorgeous than you remembered. well tamed hair, heavy makeup and a bold lipstick to match. her red bottom heels sticking into the floorboards and earrings that dance in the sunlight.

she doesn’t fit here, at least not anymore. her clothes are too clean, her posture is too straight and you reckon she feels the same way.

“i’m sorry for showing up randomly, but i want a divorce.” she speaks to you gently.

and it’s like listening to a ghost. 

one that you’ve already mourned, but here she is in all her glory. bone, flesh and talking to you.

you think about how there’s an empty casket right behind the laforteza’s backyard. how you had to comfort mrs. laforteza for months, her weeping into your arms. the tears are still staining your shirt and your heart.

you remember the long nights with mr. laforteza. working with the county police and even going to the state to locate the very woman in front of you. you remembered the way his eyes went hollow after days of no updates. the way he begged you to bring his daughter back home.

you felt like you failed. you were supposed to protect her, keep her safe. you swore at their feet that the only priority in your life was her, that you married her to help her blossom. 

and then she disappeared. like an echo into the night, she disappeared into nothingness. you searched for her day and night. you practically galloped the whole city, searching high and low for her. no one else knew anything either. you talked to every town person, telling them to notify you if there was any news.

you lost sleep, weight, and hope in the process. everyday that she didn’t return, you could feel yourself getting restless. the bags under your eyes grew bigger, your shirts draped over you, you barely could stomach a meal. townspeople would give you pats on the shoulder with that look in their eyes. 

so before you is the very woman that you had long held in your heart, not one you were ready to see again, live in the flesh.

you especially remember how you laid down her favorite boots in the casket. headstone in big bold letters “SOPHIA LAFORTEZA”.

“fia, i thought you were dead.” you don’t even lift your head up as you utter the words. your finger fidgeting with others, picking at the nails. 

the slow drip of the faucet is the loudest sound in the house. you’re left speechless again. 

how is she so pretty?

why does she want a divorce?

why does she not look like fia?

where does she live now?

how is she?

“i’m sorry.” she can’t meet your eyes now, hands clasped together. 

she looks harder around the edges. 

“i wanted to tell you, but i needed to do this for myself.”

she brushes her hair back, revealing dazzling earrings that are worth more than your ranch. 

you’re just begging to reach out, to touch her. to feel her, you can’t even be sure that she exists. your hand nearly reaches out before you grab it with your other hand. you still yourself once more.

“do what?” you ask softly, you’re scared that if you even speak too loud that she’ll vanish, just like she did that night.

“i needed to leave, i needed to chase after my dreams.” she speaks just as gently as you, worried that you’ll be set off. she knows how vulnerable she left you, she might have been better off dead considering how you’re reacting. 

“i found hollywood.”

hollywood?

you remember those nights, where sophia would explain to you how she wanted to be an actress, to be under those bright lights, and shine brighter than the stars in the sky.

you recount how she’d often re-enact lines from the movies that you two watched, how she sang to the cows as she worked, and how her eyes sparkled whenever you allowed her one-woman dialogues at the dinner table.

“so what now? you’re a big star actress?” the heat’s starting to build up, the more you listen to this story, the rage is slowly building. 

“you could say that, yes i am.” she watches the way you’re rapidly tapping your foot, tucking hairs under your hat like a childish habit. 

she’s half tempted to reach out as well, to flip down the collar of your shirt.

the faucet continues to drip.

“why didn’t you tell me?” you were scared of asking this the most, to know that she might not trust you enough to tell you how she wanted to explore her dreams. 

in the dead of the night, when you had too much whiskey to remember your name, you would sit on your porch, eyes wandering the moon as you asked into the air all the questions that lived within your head. brimming over with anger or sadness. the biggest question you had was “why?”

“this ranch, the lifestyle that we grew up with, i wanted more. you were always so happy about growing this ranch, and i couldn’t take you away from this life. but i also had to chase my dreams.” she explains slowly.

and you always suspected that she was still alive. 

maybe it was a coping mechanism, but you once knew sophia laforteza inside and out. 

but it hurts. 

it hurts to hear that she considered your side and still left without another word. it hurts in a way that destroys the core of who you are as a person.

“fia, you could’ve talked to me, we’re married for God’s sake!” your eyes are darting around, and you’re out of your seat. it’s not typical of you, but you can’t make sense of anything anymore.

she stares at you with all the sadness that she’s pushed down. the idea that she left behind her spouse. who she swore to their family and under God that she would be there until her last breath. 

she can feel the tears starting to well up, it’s all too much, to return to this place that she’s unsure of. unsure where her place is anymore, and it hurts more knowing she’s the reason.

“i thought you were dead!” you seethe. your eyes are angry, eyebrows dropped low, and an accusatory finger aimed straight at her. “we all thought you were dead!”

she’s trying not to let the tears come out, her lips are trembling and so are her hands.

“i fucking mourned you. laforteza.” your tears are still flowing down your face, but you’ve hardly blinked at all. eyes like glacier: chilly and icy. 

“do you know that? do you know how hard it was holding your mom in my arms? she was begging me to bring her daughter back. do you fucking know that?”

she stands up suddenly, chair hitting the floor. 

the words continue rolling out of your mouth without missing a beat.

“i had to lower an empty casket. in your name, fia! and you come back from the dead. asking me for a damn divorce.” you stride close to her, with every punctuation of word, she steps backwards. until her back hits the kitchen counters.

“forgive me, God. but you. can. go. to. hell.” you push your finger into her chest. 

and with that you leave. quick steps bounding for the door, slamming the door wide open. 

and running towards the stable. charlie’s quick on your tail. he looks back at sophia once, then turns to chase after you. the tears are sliding off your cheeks, angry tears that stain your skin, reminding you just how much she can still affect you. 

in five breaths, you’re riding your house out the ranch, disappearing into nowhere.

--

you don’t even know how long you’ve been riding buckeye. just the feeling of hoofs clacking against the road, and charlie panting beside you. 

you remember crying into your shirt, all but a snotty mess. you’ve barely processed sophia’s death, and now she’s come back to life. treating you like you’re a pair of car keys that she left behind, not worthy enough to peer into her soul.

you remember screaming into the night, screaming how much you hated her. hated the way your heart still beat for her. as if she didn’t crush yours, as if you meant anything to her. 

you remember the way she still gently walked over that part of the floorboards, the soft spot in the corner of the floor. the way she sat in her seat, the very same one you made for her as a gift.

you’re slow to return to the ranch, buckeye’s slow clopping on the ground still present.

knowing sophia, she probably left. she knows better to try and talk to you now. even after you’ve cooled off, you’ve always taken longer to come to terms of talking through things.

so you slide off buckeye’s saddle and give him some extra carrots for the sudden ride. he’s nudging into you, as if he senses the sadness that emanates from your body.

“i’m okay buckeye, thank you for today.” you give him some more scratches and lock him in his stable. 

returning to the house with charlie at your side, he’s whining a bit as he walks against your leg. you give him some scratches too, leaning into your hand with quick tail swishes.

he’s sniffing around the house, nose leading him into the house, and he waits patiently at the door. it’s closed. you slowly turn the doorknob, hoping that sophia’s gone. 

you don’t know what you would say to her now. the last thing you need after the exhaustion is to try and bring up discussing the divorce again.

and she’s gone, almost like she never even showed up.

except she leaves a note, a short message.

i’ll be back tomorrow. please, let’s talk this out.

-love, sophia

underneath there’s a bowl of your favorite meal, saran wrapped and steam hitting the surface. the same one she would make for you. and you sink into the chair. eyes are getting blurry again as you nearly crumple the sticky note. 

so you didn’t imagine her. she was here. 

the conversation was real, and she wants a divorce.

you slowly dig into the bowl of food in front of you, and it’s like you’re twenty again. coming back from a long day of work, exhaustion set into your bones. but enough to crack a smile for sophia. as she would hand you a bowl of your favorite meal. dropping into the chair as you two recounted your day, happily scraping the bowl until mere lines of gravy were left. you remember the way her hair would be tied back, strands falling to frame her gorgeous face. kissing her in between bites when she was rambling.

do you even remember the taste of her lips?

you cry into your bowl, tears streaming into your food as you ate it, a reminder of who she once was for you. you smile as the tears fall, savoring the way it still lit up your tastebuds.

you would destroy your body for years if it meant being able to eat this dish until your last breath.

you set the bowl into the sink, letting the faucet slowly drip into the bowl. washing away the reminder of her presence. letting only the soft glow of the moonlight illuminate the kitchen, as every second goes by and more droplets fill the bowl, you let out a final breath and trudge upstairs to fall into your bed.

tomorrow you would take care of everything, but tonight you let yourself be haunted by shiny brown eyes that have kept your soul captive for as long as you lived.

--

on the other side of town, sophia’s finally calmed herself from the explosive interaction that was meeting you after years of disappearing. 

she knew what she did was wrong, but her fuel to become a star was greater. 

she remembers that night like a haunting dream. she left with kisses to your face, to remember them in her heart. the way you held onto her like she was home. 

and she swore her heart cracked a little more with every kiss, the way your face looked so calm in your sleep. she brushed your hair for hours, admiring every little feature of yours. and then she left in the middle of the night, hoping to make a name for herself, leaving behind her old life.

leaving you behind.

she also regretted how she left her parents, she knew it would break their hearts. so not only did she tear yours to shreds, now she needed to mend their hearts. 

approaching the steps to their house was just as tough as she thought, each step weighing on her feet. the porch light was on, and she could see figures within the house. she hadn’t even prepared what to say to them, her family that she left behind.

and then she knocked on the door. the seconds felt like forever, but she heard the footsteps. the way the floorboards creaked behind the door. then it opened, and she was flooded with the smell of her mom’s cooking. of soup and the smell of wood, the same warm glow from the kitchen light. and the sight of her dad behind the door.

“sophie, is that you?” 

her dad’s gotten older, more white hairs in his hair. his skin looks rougher but his voice still has that gruff low timbre. he has on his light brown cowboy hat, and then sophia’s mom steps into frame. 

“hi dad, it’s me.” and then sophia’s pulled into a bone-crushing hug, her dad hugging the air out of her. 

“sophie? jesus come here.” and her mom’s pulling her out of his embrace. hands trembling as she holds her daughter’s own face. her mom’s crying, the vision breaking her heart instantly.

she has never seen her mom cry before, not even when she had lost her own parents. her mother holds her head softly before pulling her into a hug. and her mom still smells the same, of lavender and herbs.

it’s like she’s six years old, coming back with scrapes on her knees and loud wails.

her dad encloses all of them as he hugs them as well, thankful to have his very alive daughter in his arms once more. his prayers have been heard.

“sophia, where have you been?” her dad’s voice comes out soft and confused. sophia wipes her tears away and pulls away from them. the sadness from their faces seared into her mind.

“let’s sit down, i have a lot of explaining to do.” sophia explains, and her parents share a look.

--

sophia stares at the headstone, a little worn down but the flowers are fresh. she has yet to figure out how she feels about her name being splayed across the top. 

in memory of a loving daughter, sister, and wife.

the light blows of the wind pushes hair into her face. 

she doesn’t know what’s worse: being known as dead but being alive, or being truly dead?

she could feel her heart breaking at the idea of you burying an empty casket of hers. she notices the empty headstone right next to hers. it’s a chilling reminder that you would’ve been buried next to her. until death were you meant to part. she can’t bear the idea and turns away, walking back towards her parent’s ranch. 

the conversation between her and her dad had gone sour. he grew angry with her, not understanding why she left. 

after he went quiet and left for his room, her mother stayed behind and they talked for hours. about sophia’s current life: all the red carpet events, the glamor, the paparazzi and how she felt coming back.

then she asked sophia how she felt about coming back to you.

and then sophia broke down all over again, she regretted leaving you the most. you were happy with sophia, you loved life on the ranch and you loved her. 

sophia loved you but she didn’t love life on the ranch. she enjoyed the tranquility that came with this life, enjoyed nights alone with you under the dark skies and how you were so charming. 

she kept breaking her own heart by chasing her own dreams, she could smile at all the accolades on the walls, the way people swarmed her for autographs. all the brand promotions and award shows. 

but when she went home, she felt the loneliness of living by herself, a huge mansion to herself and the recognition of the masses, but when the night gets too loud, she wishes she were in your arms. in your a-bit-too small bed and the sounds of the wind hitting the house. 

she wished for you with her. 

and she searched for you in places that were safe: her co-stars, random athletes, and singers.

all of which couldn’t make her feel the same way at night, she doesn’t want to trace their skin. she didn’t want to embed herself into their souls. she doesn’t stay for long in relationships, something miniscule always sets her off, and then she pulls away. she knows who still has her heart all these years, and she’s lost herself in a facade of quick intimacy.

she long gave up on trying to rekindle your relationship. she didn’t know where she stood anymore with you, whether you would throw her out the second she arrived. or would you welcome her with open arms. which was definitely wishful thinking on her part.

but she needs this divorce, she needs to set you free. and set her own heart free. to be free from the haunting reminder that she once had you in her arms. had you so close and tossed it for her dreams. a sacrifice that she’s still not sure if she regrets to this day. 

all she regrets is how she left.

her mom gives her a look when sophia mentioned getting a divorce from you, it’s the same look she gave sophia when she came back drunk in the dead of the night when she was a teen. the same look of worry when she disappeared for three days after a long argument with her dad.

it’s the very same look that speaks, 

i don’t agree with what you’re doing, but this is your life.

she pokes and prods into sophia’s mind, wondering why she would come back for a divorce. when she replies, sophia’s mom gives her a quiet nod, not one laced with approval but one that shows understanding, and maybe one of pity.

maybe sophia’s lost sight of her dream, and who she wants it with.

she doesn’t want to confront the ugly truth, one that would leave her vulnerable, and maybe without you in the end.

she makes her way over to your ranch with conflicting thoughts in her mind.

--

you’re busy cleaning the stables when she arrives. the first thing you notice is that she’s wearing her old clothes, the same red flannel you bought her when you were 18. your eyes see the poor patch job you did to the right sleeve.

the second thing you notice is that she’s forgone wearing her tall heels. wearing old boots, making her shorter like you remember. it pulls you back to fond memories, taking on the daily tasks and laughing at charlie trying to round up all the chickens. 

you put the brush away, and stare at her. she hasn’t said a word since she stepped in. and you’re already feeling ready to leave.

you take a couple steps out the stable, when sophia catches hold of your arm.

“please, can we talk this out?” she’s pleading with you, and you’re already ready to let your guard down, but the hurt rises in your chest.

“i don’t want a divorce, fia.” you say. 

she makes the mistake of looking at you and it’s like she’s 19 again, staring into gorgeous eyes that made her swoon. and she doesn’t know why she’s asking for a divorce anymore.

she’s always liked you with your cowboy hat on.

“i understand, but it’s either you sign this now, or we wait for the divorce to default.” she explains, and you’re already grabbing a saddle, sliding it onto buckeye. 

you turn around, facing her with anger in your eyes.

“fia, you won’t even tell me why, and you come here after years of disappearing and expect me to click my feet together and sign divorce papers. you must be out of your damn mind.” 

you’re prepping buckeye to go out for a ride, when you notice her slide a saddle onto honey. 

great, she’s not letting up.

“i’m headed to the general store.” you say reluctantly. 

and she nods.

you head out, buckeye trotting and whining as he walks out the ranch. you don’t have to look over to know sophia’s following behind you, honey happy to have her favorite rider back.

charlie’s also warmed up to sophia too, once he smelled her enough and recognized her. he walks beside honey, tail swishing lowly, watching sophia every so often. maybe you aren’t the only one that’s missed her.

it feels like everyone’s rushing to welcome her with open arms, but you’re off-kilter. 

you let out a breath when she’s picked up the pace. both of you are riding towards the town. you still needed to tend to the ranch, despite sophia’s insistence on begging for a divorce.

she lets the topic of the divorce go, as you make it into town together.

it hasn’t been like this in years. watching your back as you ride, the familiar swish of the tail from buckeye. or charlie sniffing happily along the trail. reminding herself of her discarded life.

her heart is cracking at how disjointed this all feels. stuck between a path of two lives that she’s tried so hard to separate. she’s not too sure if she wants to sacrifice you anymore.

maybe she’s selfish, maybe she wants everything and more. she wants to be greedy.

you hook your horse onto a fence, instinctively you hook sophia’s horse to the fence too.

she doesn’t point it out, but a small smile stretches her face.

and soon you’re entering the general store.

“sophia? is that you, honey?” mrs. teller races around the desk. pulling sophia into a tight hug and shaking her a bit.

you wander off the aisles of the store, knowing mrs. teller would talk sophia’s ears off. picking up some rope along the way, taking your time. you can still hear the two catching up, and in between rows you watch them. 

sophia’s smiles are still warm.  

you grab some nails and head to the counter.

“are you back, dear? for good?” in the hopeful tone that you’d expect from your grandma. sophia breaks her heart again, shaking her head no.

mrs. teller pats sophia’s hand and all she can feel is guilt. she left behind a community that watched her grow up. townsfolk that looked after her at almost every stage of her life.

she gets lost in her thoughts, until the sight of you buying rope and nails moves into her field of view. 

“mrs. teller, did you get those shipments of horse feed? i placed an order with mr. teller last week.” you’re fishing out money from your wallet when sophia steps in. placing bills in mrs. teller’s hand before you could take it back.

“yes dear, it’ll be in tomorrow!” she shuts the register. “bring charlie around the house, the grandkids love playing fetch.” mrs.teller giggles to herself watching how you two are arguing over sophia’s gesture.

“sure can, thanks again mrs. teller. have a lovely day ma’am.” you lift your head to bow at her. you’re grabbing the merchandise and heading out with sophia hot on your tail. “fia, i could pay for that myself.” 

you both don’t see it, but mrs. teller is smiling at the sight.

“i know you can pay for it, i simply wanted to.” she explains, grabbing onto honey and mounting onto the horse.

maybe you woke up on the wrong side of the bed. maybe it’s the way you hate her paying for you, but it’s upsetting. it erupts in annoyance.

“fia, go back to hollywood, i won’t sign those divorce papers.” you say to her, and her smile from that interaction in the shop has dropped. 

you’re no fool and frankly it’s insulting for her to think a small gesture would change your mind on something as big as divorce.

“i can’t. i need that divorce.” she stares at you with desperation in her eyes, there’s something hidden, she’s not telling you everything.

“why?” you ask.

“i can’t tell you.” she offers, and it’s honest. she can’t explain the deals she’s made, how she’s under the strings of a puppeteer. 

and she wants to save you, save the last bit of happiness she can give you, setting you free from her. 

you swallow the heaviness that sets in your chest.

“you want to get rid of me that bad?” you ask. she doesn’t say anything, but her eyes are getting watery.

she thinks about the vows she wrote and said to you, to her parents, to everyone here. she’s betraying everyone and her own desires.

you take the silence as a sign.

“30 days. give me 30 days of your time, fia. then we’ll go our separate ways.” 

she has nothing to say to you.

wasn’t this what she wanted? 

you don’t know it but you break two hearts. 

you turn around, not wanting to look at her. you tuck your hat a little lower, just enough to shield your eyes. shielding them from welling up, you’re signing away a life that you promised under God that you would protect.

you give a tap to buckeye and you’re riding out of town. 

sophia taps honey and follows you.

the silence consumes you both on the ride back. and you’re both thankful for that.

--

in a week’s time, sophia’s back at the ranch. gone is the heavy makeup and opulence from when she first showed up. she looks younger like this, softer eyes and you’re reminded just how beautiful your wife is.

over the past week you’ve been preparing for sophia to be back. you thought about why you even offered that deal, maybe a part of you likes the pain, or is trying to prolong what’s inevitable. or maybe you’re too much of a coward to let things go.

whatever the reason may be, you had your wife back. and for the solace of a month, she was yours as well.

sophia’s out in the front, playing with charlie who hasn’t left her side since she’s arrived. the first thing you told her when she returned was how charlie kept whining and pawing at the door when sophia left.

you want to welcome her like charlie can, but touching her feels like ripping your heart further. opening the old wounds you tried so hard to mend close.

you walk towards her, basket in hand and pass it to her.

“chicken duty, let’s go.” you start walking down the path to the chicken coop and sophia’s still playing with charlie.

she watches you as she plays with charlie.

she hates that you’re so distant but so close. each time you pull away, she wishes it was just all a terrible nightmare she could wake up from. hates that she has to ask for this divorce and is devastated that you agreed.

inside her there’s a war of want and need for safety. some days she thinks about running away from all her responsibilities, and just drift into a fantasy land with you. but she knows this mess was one that she created, and you didn’t ask for this.

she watches the way you move through farmwork like you could do it blind. she’s a bit rusty and as she grabs one of the chickens, she nearly falls over when it escapes from her grasp.

“easy, laforteza.” you’re holding her steady, strong arms that keep her from falling over. 

you give her a smirk and let her go. 

“i’m fine.” she brushes herself off.

“a thanks would be nice.” you scoff and sophia’s ready to argue with you.

“thanks? you act like you saved the world.” sophia’s trying to get a rise out of you.

“saved your pretty ass from falling into chicken shit.” you reply. watching the way sophia’s face heats up.

“whatever.” sophia storms off, chasing after the chicken that’s escaped her grasp.

the smile on your face doesn’t leave your face the whole day.

not even when you’re having the worst time rounding up the cows. and charlie’s chewed up another sock of yours. you don’t even complain when sophia’s eaten the strawberries that you were saving up for dinner. 

you have half the mind to feed one to her.

--

one night curiosity bites you in the ass. you’re too curious for your own good. 

spending years asking God to bring you the answers you were longing for. you ask her about it during dinner, when you two have already grown a little more comfortable with each other.

“so, did you make it?” you ask her, chewing a piece of beef slowly. “did you make your dreams come true?”

she slows her fork, setting it down on the plate with a clank. she smiles wider, and your heart warms.

“i made it, someday i’ll fly you out to one of my premieres.” sophia starts, a sparkle in her eyes that glow brighter than the night stars. 

“i’m being called left and right for roles, and they want me to be apart of this major franchise soon.”

as she talks about the accolades, the way her eyes brighten and shine, you realize you couldn’t take this from her even if you wanted to. she shined so bright, and who were you to hold her back. 

you continue to bite into your food, letting her take over the conversation. 

it seems you no longer know sophia, you don’t know her friends, her interests, her sense of style. 

all you have are old fragments of what once was. 

“i’m glad you achieved your dreams, fia. genuinely.” it pained you, but it was true. you were genuinely happy for her.

“what about you?” she’s curious.

“what about me?” you questioned back.

“did you achieve your dreams?”

“no.” 

you shift your feet a bit, the floor boards creaking. sophia is understanding, but you’re not painting the full picture for her.

“it’s okay, you can keep trying.” she offers, there’s kindness in her voice. 

you don’t have the heart to tell her that this divorce will crush your dreams.

“thanks, fia.” you stare out, she’s chipping at the walls that you’ve concealed.

there’s something to it, the sadness that hangs in the air. how you never fully say what you want. 

it makes her skin crawl, no longer does she bear the secrets to your heart. you’ve long thrown the key away when you lowered the casket in her name. 

she doesn’t mistake how you’re unable to look at her. she wants the obsessed version of you back. how devoted and caring you once were. 

she figures she lost that privilege when she disappeared from you. she grabs both her and your plate and begins washing the dishes. you get up with a sigh. 

“need a hand with that?” you grab a dishtowel. holding a hand out as she passes cleaned utensils for you to wipe off. she feels more at home than she’s felt in months. nights of partying and meetings with co-stars and agents has left her soul feeling more than isolated.

but in this small house, with a few too many creaky floorboards, and a leaky faucet, she misses how simple this life is. 

of course her passion still lies in acting, but she’s not sure how much she wants that without you.

--

the next afternoon, the laforteza’s visit came unexpectedly. you spot mr and mrs. laforteza with wide smiles and a truck filled with gifts as they roll into the ranch. mr. laforteza gives you a hug that makes you want to cry. 

sophia’s parents know this divorce is not what you wanted.

but they also know that you would prioritize sophia’s happiness over anything. it’s why they were so accepting of you marrying their only daughter.

“mr. laforteza, it’s great to see you too.” you pull away from him, and he gives you a shoulder pat before walking towards sophia. he doesn’t have to say much to convey how he feels about you. 

both her parents seem so happy to have her daughter back. you want to feel the same, but the history between you two is entangled like vines. to unravel each branch might just tear you two apart. 

so instead, you help unload the truck filled with gifts of horse feed when sophia comes up to you.

“hey, did you know they were visiting today?” she asks, grabbing a bag of horse feed off the truck bed. you stack another bag onto the pile.

shaking your head, “no, i figured you asked them to visit.” 

she shakes her head too. “i didn’t.”

mrs. laforteza is happily walking into your house, charlie wagging his tail happily as he follows her. clearly he has a favorite human. 

you walk in after her, looking at her taking groceries out of a bag. 

there’s a silence that envelops you both. 

“you look too skinny.” mrs. laforteza says as she takes out a pot, filling it with water. “and you look sad…are you sad?” 

she has a knowing smile on her face as she watches you. you lean against the fridge, and contemplate the question. 

are you sad?

this past week with sophia has been revealing how much you missed your wife. the instinctual habits that you forgot you had are coming back to light. when you always scoop her helping of food first. how you always leave the left side of the couch for her to sit on. how you always tuck your boots next to hers. it’s a familiarity that you want to relish in. but in less than a month’s time she’ll never be yours again.

so maybe you are sad, maybe you’re devastated that you’ve betrayed your wants in favor of giving sophia what she wants. maybe you’re losing yourself by giving it all to sophia.

“i’m not sure what i am anymore.” you reply. 

she can feel how lost you are. from having sophia come back after years of mourning her disappearance. she feels for you. as if you were her own. and her daughter wants a divorce. she still doesn’t understand why and it’s the elephant in the room.

“honey, you don’t want this divorce. what made you agree?” she turns off the faucet. you reach over to place the pot onto the stove. 

she smiles at the gesture.

“i don’t want sophia to feel trapped with me, and it’s clear she left without telling me for a reason.” you explain even though it’s cracking your heart. her mom gives you a light pat on the cheek and shakes her head.

“that girl has never stopped from loving you. i know her. this is killing her as much as it’s killing you.” 

you want to believe that, truly you do. but you have a heart to protect too. are you going to be a fool and let it be torn all apart again? 

“then why is she doing this?” you’re tired of hearing how sophia still wants you from other people. it hurts more.

“i don’t know why either, dear.” she speaks gently to you.

you stare out the kitchen window, watching sophia’s dad talk to sophia. you can’t hear what he’s saying to her, but she’s listening intently, and at one point she turns to look at you. 

feeling caught, you avert your gaze. 

but she watches you, eyes trying to commit you to memory.

it’s later at dinner, when you and the laforteza’s are eating together. laughter loudly echoing around the house that you forget that you’re about to be divorced. 

you bathe in the happiness that emanates throughout the night. mr. laforteza retelling stories of how he courted mrs. laforteza. with eyerolls from his wife and sophia hanging on his every word. 

charlie’s seated right by sophia, curled into himself as his tail wags slowly. 

this is what you envisioned your home to be. to be warm and filled with life, and eventually down the line you wanted kids. wanted to create your own family with sophia. to have her parents come down to babysit the grandkids and play with them. 

for charlie to have another person to play catch with.

you don’t even notice the tear that rolls down your face. it stains your jeans as it free falls. you continue to laugh along with a funny joke that mrs. laforteza has said. 

sophia’s eyes notice it immediately, reaching out to cup your face.

the laforteza’s share a look with each other.

“are you okay?” sophia’s using her sleeve to wipe it off.

“oh, yeah, yeah i’m good.” you snap out of your daze, feeling the way sophia’s eyes are filled with worry. the way she lightly dabs at your cheeks. and it feels too much like home. 

“well, we ought to get out of your hair, it’s getting late.” mr. laforteza stands up, brushing off his pants and sliding on his cowboy hat. ms. laforteza stands up as well, a warm smile adorning her face as she follows him out. 

you and sophia stand up, wishing them on their safe travels. you watch them as they go out the ranch, until you can’t see their tail lights anymore. maybe in a distant world, you get to have everything. the big family dinners filled with laughter and excited screams from kids. but reality is always more grim than fantasy.

you let out a sigh and turn around, sophia is silently waiting for you.

“come on, let’s go to bed.” she says, hand open for you to take. 

your finger twitches. you nearly step forward.

“i was going to take the couch.” you say a bit too quietly. this whole time that sophia’s been here, you’ve been sleeping on the couch, offering the bed to her. she doesn’t tell you how it breaks her heart that you don’t follow her every night.

“let’s go to bed.” 

she shakes her hand a bit. in turn, you scratch your neck a bit, and take a step towards her. hand slipping right into hers like a glove.

she smiles at it. lifting your intertwined hands as she places a gentle kiss on your hand.

you don’t know it, but when you’re long asleep. the sensation of sophia tracing every ridge and dip of your face, your nose bridge, your cheekbones, your jaw. she’s found an angel on earth and you’re laying next to her. she slides closer to you, giving you gentle kisses on your face.

she wants to cry all over again, how cruel it is to leave you again. she closes her eyes once she feels that she’s left parts of her soul on you, covering your skin with her love.

it’s unspoken but you don’t take the couch ever again.

--

the next week you’re arriving at the rodeo in one of your cleaner shirts, a darker cowboy hat that you saved for special occasions. sophia’s by your side. 

you initially were planning on going by yourself, but when sophia heard you mention it in passing, she invited herself.

so she’s wearing her best denim jacket with her hair styled up in a ponytail. makeup enhancing her gorgeous eyes and glossy lips to pair. she caught you staring at her getting ready, held under her trance. maybe she wanted to give you a show, maybe she took extra long getting ready, knowing your attention was stuck on her.

you enter the large barn, seeing crowds of people surrounding the fenced in rodeo. there’s an experienced rider on top of a wild bull. shouts and whistles being thrown around, and the sounds of bells clinking all around. this was going to be a good night, you could feel it in your bones.

you begin walking towards the fences, when sophia pulls you back.

“can you get us some drinks?” she asks sweetly, using that smile that makes you weak in the knees.

“of course, fia, two beers?” she gives you a nod and you’re bound for the bar. it’s filled with older cowboys and cowgirls. one of them tips their hat to you, in which you do the same. he helps signal over a bartender for you. 

you’re walking back to sophia with two drinks in hand, excited to watch some real bull riding and wanting to enjoy a night with sophia. when you notice the crowd surrounding her. there’s cameras in her face, and people shoving papers into her hand. 

you push past some people, trying your best to reach your wife, when you hear the shouts from the crowd.

“sophia! i love you!” a man shouts. 

“you’re sophia laforteza!” a woman shouts. 

“can i get your autograph? please, it’s for my daughter!” another woman shouts at your wife.

you finally push through the bodies and find your wife looking cornered, the encroaching crowd pushing her into the fence. within a couple steps you wrap your arm around her. pulling her out of the crowd.

“please, give her some space!” you shout at everyone. a couple of the cowboys recognizing you and pushing the crowd away. giving you a tip of their hats when the majority of the crowd disperses. 

you’re thankful for the help, but you hadn’t anticipated sophia to be recognized here.

“i got your beer.” you slide the cold bottle into her hand and she nods. she’s tapping her feet rhythmically. grabbing a hold of your arm and sliding her arm through. 

“thanks, for back there.” she says, placing a kiss on your cheek. 

your face heating up at the affection. 

“you’re welcome, fia.” you say. “does that happen often?” 

you signal your hand. gesturing at the commotion that was. the only celebrity that you’ve come close to is the town mayor and his family, but even then it’s mostly to badger him for public works. 

you’ve never seen a real-life swarm of people asking for autographs.

“hm? oh, all the time. i mean i can’t even walk down the street without bodyguards sometimes.” sophia’s speaks about it casually. to be known and approached by the masses for the recognition of your talent. you don’t know if you could stomach that life. 

“do you miss it?” you ask into the air, but there’s more to it. you want to know if she misses her life in hollywood, the one she chose over you. 

she shakes the beer bottle a bit. you don’t even realize you are holding your breath. waiting for the second shoe to drop. 

“i miss the human interactions, when people would tell me how inspired they are by my acting. how it made them want to go into acting themselves. i don’t miss having camera flashes in my face when i’m trying to go buy groceries or enjoy a lunch outdoors.” she speaks

you listen earnestly. her life feels so foreign to the one you both grew up in.  

“sometimes, when life gets too much out there, i rub this necklace and wish i was still back at the ranch. i wish i could have both.” she shows off the necklace that you’ve seen her wear for years, a family heirloom that you’ve never seen her take off.

and with the sound of a bell there’s a new bull rider entering the arena. 

loud hollers around the barn echoing as the rider hangs onto the bull firmly. the bull is running around with kicks and swishes of the head to knock him off. but he’s holding firm.

sophia pulls you closer to the other side of the fence. getting a better vantage point of the scene. she makes some comments about how the rider’s pretty good. letting his body move enough to bend to the bull’s movement, but doesn’t let himself tip too far.

maybe you’re fishing for compliments, or maybe you want her attention on you. either way you spout it before you can stop yourself.

“i can do better than that.” you scoff, taking a swig of beer. she raises an eyebrow, taking a sip as well. she hasn’t seen you ride a bull in years, but she remembers how good you once were.

“you still got it, cowgirl?” sophia tempts you. 

“damn right, i still got it.” you say, drinking the rest of your beer and walking over to sign yourself up for the competition. sophia watches you. noticing you take a piece of gum out and chewing it. 

the same ritual you always had whenever you rode. she stares at your hair under the hat. your eyes surveying the bull that’s trying to buck another rider off. she stares at how you look so damn good under the light.

and then you’re up, loading into the bay with the bull standing by. a couple of people are prepping the bull, sliding on the rope tightly. and you hop onto the bull. gloved hand gripping onto the rope wrapping around the bull. you adjust your hat a bit, and look out for sophia.

she spots you from across the fence, holding herself on one of the bars. waving to you, and you tip your hat to her. signaling this ride is for her. 

“you know the rules, cowgirl, stay on for at least 8 seconds,” one of the guys fixing the rope asks you. “you got it?” 

you give him a nod and tap the gate. nodding forward and lifting up, the gates open automatically. your bull immediately sending you forward, he bucks and twists his hind legs. trying his best to shake you off. he’s got you spinning like a spin top, using the momentum to throw you off. 

you grit yourself. you keep your bottom half of your bottom as close to the bull as possibly. your leg slapping against the side of the bull. the bulls spinning around trying to get you dizzy. you nearly fall off at one point, gripping onto the rope with all your might.

and then you hear the roars, eight seconds are up, and you feel the bull trying to kick you off, his horns getting a bit too close to your head, so you roll off the bull, just narrowly missing it. you roll onto the ground, the dirt covering you entirely.

as you run away from the bull. screams of the crowd cheer you on. 

you run right up to sophia, sliding your hat right onto her head, hugging her over the fence. and everyone’s cheering your name. loud chants echoing the arena. more than just qualifying, you’ve put on a performance. everyone is cheering for you but you have your eyes set on sophia. 

maybe it’s the beers, maybe it’s the feelings that are swarming in her chest, but she grabs you. 

then she’s kissing you and everyone roars. 

whistles and hollering in the air as sophia continues kissing you.

the screams drone out and you kiss her back. and for the first time you’ve seen her eyes shine so bright for you.

“you saw me out there, fia?” you shout at her, the loud chants droning out your voice. 

“of course i did, you did amazing baby.” she smiles and pulls you into another kiss. and you leap over the fence.

pulling sophia into a hug. still breathing hard from the run. she leans close to you, tucking your hat tighter on her head.

“how do you feel, cowgirl?” sophia asks you. you both walking towards the bar again, needing a refill. 

“indescribable.” you say, kissing her temple. 

and you reach the bar. several cowboys already offering to buy you drinks. you try waving them off, but then the bartender slides over the drinks to you.

“on the house, courtesy of your bull riding return!” he shouts. “and for sophia’s big return too!” 

the cowboys cheered for you too, and you gave them a clink of beer. sophia grabbing a beer and cheering to some of the guys too. the bar continues to be lively into the night, some retired bull riders telling you about their heydays. sophia was welcomed back happily by a couple of cowboys. 

your hand doesn’t leave sophia’s the whole night. a gentle rubbing across your knuckles even when she’s talking to someone else. you don’t want the night to end, and neither does she.

--

you and sophia ride back home, she’s still wearing your hat and holding onto you as buckeye continues clopping on the road. 

“and then charlie nearly bites him in the ass!” you shout, the laugh nearly making you double over as you recount the event. sophia’s listening intently, giving you nods of her attention, with her head pressed into your back. relishing in the feeling of your body’s movement. 

“we’re home.” you say gently. dismounting buckeye and pulling him into the stable. she watches you, and she has been the whole night, sometimes you caught her too. 

“you okay?” you say, letting go of the rope, staring up at her. she looks at you for a moment, memorizing how you look in the moonlight, gorgeous and warm.

“great. help me off?” she says. and you grab onto her, pulling her off the horse and setting her down. 

she slides her hand into yours again, and you feel your skin heating up again at the feeling. 

she pulls you towards the house, urging you into a run and opening the door eagerly. you’re confused but you don’t question it when she’s sliding off her boots and running up the stairs. you follow quickly after her, opening the door and seeing her in the corner.

she’s fallen into your bed, beckoning you forward, and you obey. reaching close to her when she places the cowboy hat back onto your head. tilting it low enough to her liking. her hands reach for your shirt, sliding up and down the front. it stills at the top button.

“can i?” she asks. and you nod.

she’s unbuttoning your shirt quickly. and she lets her eyes drift up, catching you staring at her with the same want.

she loves how you look on top of her, hat still covering your head, the hottest goddamn cowgirl she’s ever seen.

“hat stays on.” sophia says firmly, removing your shirt. your eyebrow perks up at the admission.

“you have a thing for my hat?”

“i have a thing for you wearing that hat.” she rushes to take off her own shirt, revealing all too gorgeous skin. you reach out, feeling the heat from her skin against yours.

“noted.” you smirk at the way she’s embarrassed. 

you slide her shirt off her back, bunching it up and throwing it across the room. you slowly move up the bed, enclosing the space that feels oh so far. she’s moving up too, liking this view of you looking to claim.

“is this new?” you spot a tattoo under her breast, a small butterfly. the wings spread on her ribs. tracing it with your thumb, maybe you need to be re-acquainted with her.

“yeah, like it?” she says, liking the sensation of you tracing over the tattoo. you nod, a bit too entranced by the linework. 

and then she grabs your hand, lifting it up gently. you snap your eyes onto hers. she smiles as she moves it upwards. dropping it right on top of her bra. and she stares at you, begging you to make a move. 

she pulls you down for a kiss, you want to pull away, but she keeps you close. hand wrapped around your neck, she pulls you close enough to get her mouth next to your ear.

“you still remember how to fuck me?” sophia challenges you, lightly tugging at your lobe. “or do i need to teach you again?”

she pulls away. 

she’s smirking at you, wanting you to snap.

“i still know how to fuck the senses out of you, fia.” you confidently claim, and you’re back. the same confident girl that makes her head spin.

“prove it.” she whispers. 

you grab her face, kissing her with the hunger that’s been building up this whole time. you still wanted her as much as you used to. distance and time hasn’t changed how much you yearned to make her yours. 

she’s pushing up into you, wanting you just as much, having a little taste wouldn’t satiate this desire. so you grab onto her torso, pulling her up. enough to unhook her bra and slide it off. another discarded piece of clothing landing across the room.

“God, you are perfect.” you say, dipping down to kiss her jaw. moving your hands again, pushing lightly into her hip. you continue to kiss down her sternum, reaching a hand to rub against her boob. lightly grabbing and pulling it towards you. 

she gasps.

“you’re so sensitive, fia.” you joke. continuing your journey south. gliding your hands to unhook her pants, sliding them off her legs. 

and it’s like christmas came early. 

“can’t help it.” she whines a bit. anticipating your touch. “it’s you.”

you stutter a bit. the emotions in her voice are overwhelming. maybe she wanted you in the same way.

so you go silent, wanting to express how much you yearned for her. wanting to re-learn everything that makes her tick.

you slide your hands under the waistband. her panties still sticking a bit as you took them off.

she smells divine, a mixture of sweat and desire. and you’re ready for worship.

you roll into her with your pants, hips tilting upwards. letting your hardness rub against her, and she drops her mouth. pretty sounds falling from her lips. 

she reaches down, grabbing a hold of you. feeling around and reaching for the belt. pulling at the buckle until it pops. 

she pushes you back, frustrated she can’t get closer to you. and you land back, propping your arms just enough to let her reach for you. 

she climbs on top, pulling her hair all to one side. pulling your belt off the loops. you watch her throw it off the bed, and she’s grabbing onto your pants. unbuttoning them in urgency.

“desperate?” you gaze into her.

she gives you a look that says a thousand words. the darkness in her gaze, and the kind of sterness that makes you excited.

then your pants are unbuckled. you let out a breath, relaxing as the pressure from the pants has been lifted. you’re standing at full attention, begging to be touched.

begging to be touched by her. 

she puts her hands inside, not bothering to slide your pants completely off.

you let your head fall, she gets closer.

“i missed this…missed you.” she tugs a bit, and you twitch. 

you nod, pulling her in for a kiss. “i missed you too fia.”

you close your hand into a fist, gripping onto her hair and letting open mouth kisses fill the air. she looks so beautiful like this, putty in your hands and plump lips that make you nearly cave in.

you reach down, a single finger that draws a line. finishing right where she wants you. you give her a tap, and she lets out a hiss. 

she wants to swat your hand away, instead she gives you a look.

“stop playing.” she scolds.

“yes, ma’am.” you chuckle a bit, liking the demanding side of her. she continues to lightly play with you over your boxer briefs.

letting her nails slide up and push into your briefs. you can feel yourself getting lost in the sensation, the way she starts tugging again, rubbing the tip and spreading out your juices.

“you’re leaking baby.” she says, continuing to pump you, hands gripping enough to give you that head-spinning pleasure. 

you reach down again, looking for her wetness, smiling to yourself at the feeling.

“same to you, baby.” you smirk. letting your fingers gather that wetness and spread it up. 

playing with her clit until it’s begging. 

you hear the hard pants and watch how she goes rigid, unable to look you in the eye. eyes closed shut with a hand on your forearm. 

she looks so gorgeous, and you want more. want to mess her up so she’ll never want to leave.

you pull her hand out your briefs and she almost looks hurt. wanting to reach out again, and you stop her. you simply shake your head, kissing her enough to distract her. pushing her back, pleasing her is your only motive right now.

“baby, let me make you feel good.” she blushes at the words. she remembers how good you were with your mouth.

sometimes she’d touch herself at night just remembering the touch of you.

“please, hurry.” and you do, setting her head on a pillow. dropping yourself onto the floor.

kissing her and parting her legs. sliding your hands over her thighs. you get close enough, but not enough to touch her. and when she doesn’t expect it, you kiss her clit. 

she moans at the contact, and then you latch onto it. softly sucking it, just the way she likes. when her legs twist and turn, hands reaching to grab the sheets.

you got her right where you want her. gorgeous and laid out.

you slide a hand up, running your palms through her torso, far enough to grab onto a nipple, and flick it. she grips onto your arm. the slight pain making you grin. 

it’s cute how worked up she gets with you.

every little touch like a flame that dances upon her skin.

you continue to suck around her bud. giving it a slow lick and she’s gripping your arm more. you lick it with fervor, liking the way she’s begging for you, name rolling off her tongue that strokes your ego. 

you stand at full attention, light twitches at her beautiful moans. you get lost in your own world, licking slowly and with a flat tongue. enjoying how her legs shake when you suck.

her body is hot to the touch,  a slight sheen of sweat coating her body. casted with moonlight making her skin glow. she’s gorgeous and the only one you want in your bed.

“baby, please, i need you inside.” she begs. trying to pull you up, so you let her. let her drag your body closer, until you’re touching her with your clothed cock.

you slide your pants down, pulling them off and flinging them away, the restrictive material off your body. 

and sophia watches you, likes the sight of you bare. body toned with years of farmwork and bull riding building you up. 

you slide up to her, using the wetness that’s been leaking from her cunt and coating it all over your cock. enough to get you inside. she’s more desperate than you, reaching for you, and pulling it towards her. 

“come on baby, it’s all yours.” you say to her. letting her dictate when she wanted you. and then she pushes you inside, instantly her head drops back onto the bed. the feeling of you inside again after so long has her starting to tear up.

“you okay baby?” you ask, a little startled from the tears. 

you stop to wipe them off, ready to pull out at a second’s notice.

“so good, please move.” she begs of you, and you’re more than willing to comply. pushing in slowly and watching her face contorted in pleasure. 

pretty pink lips that are begging to be kissed, so you dip down and kiss her. soft kisses that have her gripping onto your hair, pulling the hat off your head and tossing it aside.

you slowly tilt your hips to sink into her. the vibrations from her throat buzzing against your mouth. moans that are begging to be heard echoing inside. she grips harder into your hair, loving the way you stretch her.

“please move baby, i need more of you.” she detaches from your mouth, waiting for you to rock into her. and you do, in that slow pace that lets you feel every ridge of her insides. warm enveloping heat that’s making your heart hammer.

your pretty wife below you, such a vulnerable and intimate sight. you kiss her nipples, lightly massaging one with your hand and playing with the bud. 

she puts a hand on your stomach, feeling your tensed abs against her nails. you continue to push in and out of her. moans in time with your movements. you want her to always feel this good, to want you forever.

you lick her nipples, then blow on them, cold air hitting her and she hisses. 

“you are so gorgeous baby.” you dip down to whisper to her, and she feels herself getting wetter. the movement of you inside her has her mewling. her nails lightly scratching your abs, you continue to roll into her.

using your hips to angle upwards, pressing your tip in that soft spot. tingling immediately hitting her body from all over.

“found it.” you smirk at her. and with what strength she has she rolls her eyes. wanting to tell you off, but you hit that spot again, and she’s back to being a mess.

“fuck…” she moans out.

“yes baby, feeling good?” you smirk. she nods with whines coming out, unable to answer you. you continue tapping it, enjoying the way she seems in heaven.

you grip harder into her hips and move to tilt your hips back down, long strokes that knocks at her womb.

you want to fuck her so she forgets everything but you. want her to remember only you, it's selfish and possessive. but you need her to want to be yours.

“kiss me please.” she begs and you dive down, kissing her intensely. still giving her long strokes that have her fingers shaking.

“you’re doing so good for me, fia.” you speak in between kisses.

“my gorgeous girl.” you speak to her soul. begging her to hear your calls. 

“your gorgeous girl.” she says, tears springing into her eyes again, overwhelmed by the claim. “yours. yours. yours.”

you fuck into her, hips gradually snapping. hitting against her insides and she reaches out, hands open for you to intertwine. you take it and give her hand a kiss.

she cries at the sight, all the feelings spiraling out of her.

she lets you continue to fuck her, intensity sharpening as you keep pulling in and out. her nails dig into your hands, she looks like a mess, the most gorgeous mess. 

you want to keep her here forever. she knows it. knows how you’re concentrating so hard on pleasing her. she wants to as well, wants to make a mess of you.

 and then she pushes you.

“baby, want to ride you.” she whimpers out, and you nod. slowly sliding out of her, ending with a light gasp from her.

“come ride your cowgirl then.” you settle yourself on the bed, laying down and watching her shake as she tries getting up, legs a little wobbly.

“don't. say. anything.” 

your mouth is already half open, ready to make a joke. 

but she shuts you up. instead you watch her gorgeous body climb on top of you. hands that cross around your neck.

“you look so pretty, fia.” you say, placing a kiss on her arms. rubbing them up and down as she gets situated.

“not as much as you.” she says through heavy breaths, trying to kiss you on shaky knees. 

you use your legs to keep her in place, meeting her halfway. kissing her fervently and passionately. 

she has you hooked, cock begging for attention. 

then she slides onto you. sinking enough to let your cock rest inside her. and it feels like heaven, how you missed this.

“fuck, fia, you feel so good.” you moan out, head dropping onto the pillow.

“you feel even better.” she smiles at you. sinking down until you’re fully sheathed. she keeps her hands on your abs. settling for a rocking motion as she moves herself on top of you.

“mm, i could ride you for days.” she whispers.

“you’d ride me until i’m dry.” you scoff. hissing when she drags her nails down your body. 

“you can’t go dry.” she scolds you.

she wants to milk you for all your worth and more.

“this is mine.” she clenches, enough pressure to make your cock jump. 

“yeah?” you let out playfully, “did you decide that?”

“of course i did. this is mine.” she clenches again and you twitch. and she gives you no time to recover. 

going right back to riding you. pulling herself up just enough to rock back down. you relish in the sight, the moonlight shining in and illuminating her body. you watch her in a haze, the pleasure spreading inside of you, but the sight of her is more than everything. 

you are still so in love with her.

she continues to ride you, hand on your thigh as she leans back. rolling herself on top of you. 

you feel like you could cum any second now. and you grip onto her thighs, to which she grabs a hold of you. 

staring at you with desire and pleasure in her eyes.

she closes her eyes, letting the feeling of riding you consume her. she can feel the familiar feeling at the pit of her stomach.

“fuck, i’m going to cum.” she keeps repeating it to herself in the moment.

you grab a hold of her. rushing to push her back. wanting to fuck into her until she cums. in a second her back hits the bed again, and she looks at you a little dazed.

“need to fuck you.” you say just loud enough for her to hear. and push into her. going for a more relentless speed.

she keeps moaning in your ear, chanting your name lowly. it drives her crazy to have you so close.

“i’m cumming baby, inside or out?” you pant in her ear. 

all you want is to cum inside, begging to pour yourself into her.

“please, inside. only inside please.” she begs for you. hooking her legs around you, holding you close. “want your kids, please.” 

there’s tears in the corners of her eyes and she’s raking her nail down your back.

“yeah?” you whisper to her, feeling your stomach coiling into itself. “you’d be the best mom.”

the rush nearly hitting you when she clenches. 

“fuck!” she cries desperately, pulling you into a kiss that expresses her deepest desires. 

she wants this, wants to be the mother of your kids. the idea of anyone else as a replacement sends her in a tailspin.

all she wants is you. 

wants to keep a part of you with her forever.

she needs you. and she needs you to want her. wants you to fill her up. she’s gasping and holding your head. staring into you, in each part that she’s loved and admired.

“baby, fill me up.” she whines, continuing to clench every so often. you gasp each time, open mouthed and head falling back.

“fuck, i’ll fill you up baby, be patient.” you hiss when she pushes back, using her hips to meet you halfway.

she feels the way you twitch inside of her, the signifier that you’re close.

you reach your climax, the white hot sensation hitting you in the body, letting out ropes of cum inside of her. grunting and moaning as you keep pushing into her, wanting to be as close as possible.

she can feel her walls getting painted with you, and it triggers her own climax. 

the intimacy, the desire, the urgency makes her continue to sob as she cums.

you continue to slowly pump in her, the orgasm coming to a slow descent. trying your best not to collapse on top of her with your arms shaking. you try to push yourself up, just to get yourself in a better position so as to not crush her.

when she suddenly pulls you down, chest to chest and you can hear her sobs.

“no! stay inside.” she cries out. and maybe time has changed you but you don’t remember ever hearing her so desperate. 

“fia? what’s wrong?” you’re concerned.

“no, just want you. stay inside please?” you stare at her, the desperation in her voice is echoing in your heart. 

so you stay, gently wiping tears off her cheeks and comforting her as she cries. giving her kisses on her shoulder and lips. 

you continue to shower her in gentle affection. letting her enjoy the feeling of you and trying your best not to move around. she feels herself relax eventually, enough to make her sleepy.

she closes her eyes, trying to drift asleep. before she does though, she whispers to you.

“stay?”

“of course, fia.”

–

the morning has dawned and you let yourself sleep in. with sophia next to you and the memories of last night, you feel on top of the world. 

it feels like the old you is back. there’s still the ever-looming divorce over your head but maybe last night changed things.

maybe you can allow yourself to believe she wants to stay. maybe she doesn’t want this divorce.

maybe you can allow yourself happiness again.

it’s a slow morning. you’re trying your best to clean up last night’s mess. dirty clothes tossed into a hamper, trying your best not to wake sophia up as you clean her.

giving her kisses that nearly wake her up. hand reaching out to find you. 

it’s domestic, and an old familiarity you missed.

you give her another kiss just before you leave.

it’s a good morning to enjoy yourself on the porch. rubbing behind charlie’s ears and sitting in your rocking chair.

letting the thoughts of sophia consume you as always. maybe you’ll buy her flowers today, wrap it in a bouquet for her. or cook her breakfast so she can have it in bed. the thought keeps you happy.

then charlie barks, standing at attention. that’s when you spot someone in the distance. 

“can i help you, sir?” you continue to chew on your stick, lightly rocking back and forth. 

he’s too well dressed, a three piece grey suit that’s already gathering dirt and dust under his feet. 

he’s fidget-y, device in hand as he frantically searches for a signal.

“i’m looking for sophia. sophia laforteza?” he’s continuing to twirl in circles, hands up in the air as he walks in different directions, trying to look for a signal.

he looks like a damn fool.

“sir, i don’t know of a sophia.” you continue to chew at your stick. hand firmly held on your buckle. 

“well either you’re lying or this gps is.” he says, continuing to fiddle with his device and he starts walking towards the house. “and i spent a couple thousand on it.”

“i don’t know a sophia. you must have the wrong place.” you shout back. 

charlie’s tail stills when he doesn’t move. instead he approaches you. a charming smile on his face.

he gets close enough for you to escalate. 

you lift your gun out, pointing it at his forehead.

“i don’t take too kindly to strangers trespassing.” you let out. “please leave.”

“sophia! i know you’re in there.” the stranger shouts.

“you have some goddamn nerve.” you shout, stepping up face to face. 

charlie rushes forward, loud barking shaking him up. you keep him still, not letting him lunge forward to bite.

he smirks seeing the door open and sophia running down the steps.

she’s by your side in an instant. and then she sees him, and her blood runs cold.

he wasn’t supposed to find her, or you. 

he wasn’t supposed to have leverage.

“sophia! where the hell have you been? i’ve been calling your cell, your manager, lara, everyone!” 

his voice cracks at the end and he looks like he’s about to pop a blood vessel. his forehead vein sticking out and blood rushing to his cheeks.

“i couldn’t contact anyone! but i had this tracker and it led me here. in new mexico.”

he explains rapidly and at this point you’ve pushed sophia behind you. putting some distance between this strange man and your wife.

“what are you doing here in new mexico?” he finally stops.

“i-...go home thomas. we’ll talk later.” sophia says.

“no, i’m not leaving without you, laforteza.” he says with an awful smirk. one that starts making you nervous.

you didn’t know anything about thomas.

“who are you?” you ask, and sophia wishes she could rewind time. rewind to a time where she never left, kept you close and didn’t break your heart, because she feels like she’ll break it all over again.

“i’m thomas moore, nice to meet you.” he offers his hand, you don’t shake it. “i take it, sophia hasn’t introduced me?” he says, taking his hand back. 

“i’m sophia’s fiancé.” 

he says with a smile that’s slow, ending a grin that makes you want to rip it off of him.

fiancé? 

it hits you in your chest, the shock making your ears ring. ringing and all you can see is sophia arguing with him. shouts like a silent film in your head. you’ve been duped again. 

you let your heart get trampled over again. ruined by this woman. she’s crying and trying to shake you out of your haze. you don’t see the tears that trickle out your eyes. hand open faced and gun to the ground. 

she tries shaking you again. and you take a step back. a tense step, muscle at full flex. you need to get out, you need to get away. 

she’s done it again, she’s let you believe in her love. after everything you tried spelling out to her last night, you want to forget her. you want to forget how you gave the deepest part of you to her.

you leave, feet turning into the house. quick steps turning into a mad dash. you’re opening kitchen drawers, running through the house, trying to look for a pen. anything that can write. you don’t even know if anything else is real.

pen. pen. pen.

and then you find one, it’s an old pen. ink nearly dried up, and you’re scribbling on scrap paper. heart thumping loudly, with adrenaline coursing through you. 

sophia runs after you, trying to get you to stop. she watches you try to write with a pen. her mind going haywire. she has no idea what you’re trying to do. she’s trying to anticipate it and then it hits her. 

her heart drops.

“no! baby please, look at me.” she begs you, grabbing a hold of your face. trying to break you from your dazed self. angry tears staining the paper. 

you grab the papers from the cabinet. an extra copy of the divorce papers that sophia handed you. the lines are tagged with blue tabs. every line you need to sign is there.

and you see the ink flowing again. 

sophia’s crying, trying to get you to stop. 

you lift your pen in the air, placing it onto the divorce forms. signing the line. flipping through the pages with anger, signing the other lines. 

“please, let me explain.” she’s sobbing and begging you to look at her. it’s no use, you should’ve never trusted her again. of course she would leave again.

what were you expecting?

you finally sign it all and sophia’s sunken to the floor, tears wracking her body and she stares at the floor. 

“this is what you wanted, right?” you bite out.

she looks up at you, shaking her head vehemently. 

“no, no, i don’t want this. no!” she nearly screams. she gets up, trying to hug you.

“get off of me, sophia.” you cry out. arms at your side as she keeps her arms around you. it’s suffocating, you never thought you’d say it, but her touch is suffocating. 

“my name is fia! it’s fia! you don’t call me sophia!” she cries out, her heart is breaking. 

everything is in ruin again. you’re in ruin too. this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. 

you wanted to ask her to reconsider, thought of getting her flowers and dressing up all nice to ask her on a date.

this solidified everything you thought was wrong.

“you have a fiancé?” you ask, with betrayal laced in your tone, backing up from her. it hurts to look at her. 

she doesn’t know what to say, so she says nothing. bloodshot eyes that are begging for you to hear her out.

“and you didn’t tell me?” you continue to be impressed, at how little you know sophia.

she shakes her head, trying so hard not to have heave. 

“please, let me explain.” she begs and you shake your head. it hurts so bad, it’s sucking your energy to be in this room with her. 

“and last night…did you even mean it?” you ask, hand over your heart as you feel the anger boiling. you gave her everything, your heart and soul, and she has a fiancé. one that she conveniently forgot to tell you about.

“of course i meant it! i always mean it.” she shouts back, disgusted by the accusation. 

you stare at her, begging for the truth, for this all to be one sick play, where all the curtains rise and a camera crew filming the whole thing. a punk’d kind of sick trick.

“you must be one hell of an actress out there, laforteza.” you say out of spite. “you had me fooled with your act.”

“don’t you dare. i never, i never—it was never an act with you.” she nearly screams. 

but the curtains don’t rise, and reality sticks.

“get out sophia. i don’t want to see you ever again.” you say. you stare at the divorce papers that you haphazardly signed.

signatures flying across the page, and tears wrinkling it. it’s a poor sight, and one that you want out of your home. 

“get the fuck out.”

she feels her heart crack, truly crack. there’s so much hatred in your voice. pain ladened anger that screams for retreat. 

she cries out, hands reaching out for you. you turn away from her. tears streaming down your face.

“if you won’t leave, i will.” you bite out. moving past her, and out the house. and once again you’re running off on buckeye. 

charlie following you closely. whimpers coming from him when he doesn’t see sophia follow. he gives one final look before running to catch up to you.

sophia’s sobbing into herself, curled herself into a ball. staring at the home you both once built. maybe this was how it was always supposed to be. maybe she should’ve just stayed away the first time.

maybe she doesn’t deserve this happy ending either.

thomas steps into the house, the cunning smile rubbed off his face, a colder exterior forming.

“sophia, let’s go.” he says, offering his hand. “enough playing house, you have responsibilities.”

sophia looks at him through her tears, anger directed towards him. steel eyes forged with anger and resentment.

“thomas. fuck. off.” sophia stands up, grabbing the papers off the desk. leaving the house with him behind her.

she gives one more look at the house. trying to commit it to memory, trying to commit you to memory. hand on the door handle, opening the car door and stepping inside. 

maybe she needs to put this all behind.

she cries to herself as the car pulls out the ranch, hand crumpling the paper in her hand.

just like a phantom, she disappears again. 

this time you want her to stay away.

--

a/n: how did we like the ending!!! :) i apologize if this isn't true to the american cowgirl/ranch owner/bull rider experience, i tried my best! and honestly this was a whole beast to write so i hope you enjoyed it! stay safe and stay healthy everyone!

[rodentcarnival]

Throw money at your problems | Hanni Pham

summary: when you spill coffee on hanni by accident and instead of being normal you just throw money at her and become her biggest fan

warnings: none

tags: rich!y/n, idol!hanni, bit of crack 

wc: 1.6k

rich people are known for being a bit out of touch with the general population. often not caring about what others do.

hanni wouldn’t say her girlfriend was heartless. quite the opposite actually.

in fact every time njz had a concert, right in the front row disguised as an extremely aggressive fansite was y/n, the same girl who now ran a twitter account with over 20k followers solely dedicated to posting hd pictures of hanni.

and to be honest, the pictures were hd. 4k. cinematic. most fans wondered what kind of job these fansites had to afford front row tickets, thousand dollar lenses, and the free time to follow their idol 24/7.

the answer? being the chaebol daughter of samsung. y/n lee.

you met hanni at a coffee shop. well, outside of one.

she went to open the door. you meanwhile, were sprinting out with zero spatial awareness and a hot cup of coffee in hand.

CRASH!

and there goes your coffee and your new shirt. 

“I’M SO SORRY OH MY GOD HERE TAKE THIS,” you shouted, practically deafening hanni as you pulled a stack of bills from your wallet and shoved them into her hands without counting.

“i’m so sorry i should’ve looked where i was going, here i hope this covers everything i just ruined.”

to be fair, most of the coffee ended up on you and your expensive ass clothes that probably cost more than the coffee shop itself but that didn't matter to you. what mattered to you was that you just crashed into someone.

hanni blinked at the wad of cash in her hands.

“no this is way too much! this shirt was like fourteen bucks. i thrifted it! i’m good i swear.”

you tilted your head. “huh? aren’t shirts like... seven hundred at least?”

and that’s when hanni realized: oh. this girl is rich rich.

if only she knew she had just crashed into the y/n lee. heir to a tech empire. a girl who had never taken public transport and once thought a bag of chips cost $70.

you weren’t really allowed to leave the house alone. being a billion dollar baby made you prime kidnapping material. so sneaking out to buy coffee? this was your rebellious arc. 

“are you okay? the coffee didn’t burn you or anything?” hanni asked, genuinely concerned, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

you froze.

was this what love at first sight felt like?

“oh don’t worry about it,” you replied, despite the steam still rising off your clothes. “i didn’t like this outfit anyway.”

“really,” hanni laughed, “you look like you walked out of a fashion magazine.”

“this old thing?” you waved her off, praying she didn’t look too closely at the branding.

“here, i really can’t take this much money.”

before she could return the cash, you scribbled your number on one of the bills.

“in case that’s not enough to replace your shirt,” you grinned. “feel free to text me. you’re really pretty by the way!”

and then you ran. just full on sprinted back to your penthouse before your bodyguards realized you weren’t still fake shitting in the bathroom.

they probably thought you had ibs or something.

hanni stood there, stunned.

“…what the fuck?”

you couldn’t stop thinking about her.

sure, maybe it was the mild concussion, or the $9,000 you accidentally gave away, but still. she seemed familiar.

so like any normal person, you spent the next three hours doomscrolling the internet looking through girl group rosters.

you were about to give up when you saw a thumbnail:

“OMG - hanni fancam ”

IT’S HER.

click.

you watched the entire performance. and then again. and then you had a crisis because the camera quality was not up to your standards. you could do better. you would do better.

and that’s how you became a fansite. not because you needed the money, but because you needed her.

COUGH, i mean you needed to show the world what she looked like in better quality. yeah totally what you meant. 

meanwhile at the dorms, hanni walked in with literal stacks of cash.

“hey hanni, did you get my iced… what the hell,” minji paused mid sentence.

“did you rob a bank?” dani asked, squinting at her.

“she just... kept giving me money,” hanni muttered. “like, an endless amount. like, rich rich. like old money rich.”

hanni dropped the bills on the floor. one fluttered open, revealing your number.

“uhh... unnie,” hyein said, holding up her phone. “you might wanna see what dispatch just posted.”

BREAKING NEWS: bystander captures njz’s hanni pham and samsung heiress y/n lee talking outside a coffeeshop. new brand deal or new romance? 👀💞

“WHAT?! NO. NOTHING HAPPENED. IT WAS JUST SPILLED COFFEE,” hanni shrieked.

“spilled coffee and got a number,” minji smirked.

“guys it wasn’t like that-”

buzz.

manager: we need to talk.

“ah shit.”

turns out when you're a walking headline, things escalate. fast.

you were summoned to your dad’s office, where he scowled behind a desk made of mahogany and your mistakes.

“y/n,” he sighed. “explain yourself.”

you fiddled with your sleeves. “i just wanted coffee. and to... touch grass.”

“you know how dangerous it is out there. if they don’t kidnap you, they’ll record you and put some nasty headline up.”

“i know,” you mumbled. “i won’t go out again.”

you were absolutely going out again.

“we’ll fix it,” your dad sighed. “maybe a brand collab. make it look like a business meeting.”

“sure, yes, perfect. thank you, love you.”

he narrowed his eyes. “and y/n?”

“yeah?”

“stop pretending to shit for three hours.”

NAUR! WHYYY! 

“okay…” 

obviously, you went out again.

njz had a performance at kbs that weekend, and you had a front row ticket, the world’s most obnoxiously expensive camera, and a trench coat disguise. you also wore sunglasses indoors. you looked like a a person clearly trying to disguise themselves.

you weren’t sure why you were doing all this.

oh wait. yes, you were. because the most perfect girl to ever exist is performing.

you tried your best to capture every frame of her performance. even if your photos turned out a bit blurry and you nearly dropped the camera twice.

you were packing up when-

“Y/N. I KNOW YOU’RE HERE.”

...shit.

you turned. your bodyguards.

“y/n, don’t make this difficult.”

“LOOK. A BIBLICALLY ACCURATE ANGEL!” you shouted, pointing dramatically behind them and sprinting in the opposite direction.

now if only you remembered the mask part of your disguise and idk maybe not wear a big ass bright neon yellow highlighter hoodie. god forbid a girl wants to make a statement. 

seeing a trashcan on the way out there was only one reasonable choice, instead of throwing away the heavy ass backpack that was slowing you down, you decided its way more reasonable to throw away the hoodie your wearing.

there was no way in hell you were gonna throw away the pictures you worked so hard for. 

on second thought… taking your backpack off and sliding out the sd card from the camera. 

HAZZAH! problem solved, and just like that you just threw away a $10,000 camera but whatever you'll just buy another one. 

“YN STOP RUNNING”, with now multiple people running after you

FUCK HOWS THERE MORE PEOPLE?!?!? IS HE SELF REPRODUCING IN FRONT OF MY EYES OR SOMETHING

running into the back of the building you open a door that maybe was labeled “staff only” but you're basically vip. you kept running until you burst through a random door and-

five members of njz stared at you.

you stared back.

“uhhh.”

“SECURITY?” minji started.

“WAIT,” hanni said, eyes widening. “you’re the girl i spilled coffee on!”

“yeah... hi again.” you said sheepishly, i mean you did just run into her room like a mad man. 

heavy footsteps pounded down the hallway. you heard voices shouting your name.

panicking, you dove behind a curtain. hanni followed, pulling it shut.

“who’s chasing you?!”

“just... some snitches with walkie talkies.”

before hanni could question any further, your body guards ran into the room.

“excuse me you aren't supposed to be in here” dani points at the guards, they brush her off, not caring. 

“we thought we saw… a person of interest walking in here.” 

“you saw wrong” haerin states flatly. 

you start backing up more into the corner not before dropping your phone. 

“whats that noise” they approach your location closing in on the curtain in the corner.

“fuck, what do i do?” you looked at hanni, panicked.

and before you could even blink she pulls you in for a kiss with her back to the curtain, pinning you against the wall with her back to the curtain and her hands cupping your face. 

you were frozen. possibly dead.

a guard yanked the curtain back.

“gotcha- OH. sorry! my apologies ma’am!”

hanni turned, shielding you from being seen. “what the fuck is wrong with you? what if someone was actually changing?!”

the guard mumbled something and ran away, exiting the change room.

silence.

you blinked at hanni. she blinked back.

“uh,” you said with your face as red as a tomato. 

“so… wanna hang out sometime?” she grinned.

“yes.”

flash forward to now: you sit in the crowd again. mask on, giant camera lens ready. you're basically undercover. you post every photo to your now very popular fansite account. hanni always likes the posts.

she still teases you about kissing you first. you tell her you saved the sd card from that day.

and sure, you still don’t know how to say “i love you” often, or express in words how much you adore her,

but you do know how to buy out multiple billboards for her birthday.

and maybe... that's the same thing.

kind of.

right?

[newjeanzforfree]

First “summer” without newjeans, last summer with me.

[smutgiver]

Hanni's Bedroom

"Daddy!"

My daughter dove into my arms. I stumbled back and nearly tripped over the porch steps. It felt good to have her in my arms again after so long. "I've missed you, baby."

"Hanni!" her mother hissed. "Don't hug him like that!"

My daughter let go and stepped back, rolling her eyes for only me to see. I was taking her in. I don't know when she got so tall. She must've been 5'6". I was sure she was under 5' the last time I saw her. She really sprouted these last three years. She had filled out a little too, with a tiny waist and wide hips. Her breasts had grown as well, and her butt was a broken heart waiting to happen.

"Hello, Sam," I said to her mother.

"It's Samantha to you, Charles."

"Charles, a word?" Her scumbag brother stepped toward me. I don't know why this guy felt the need to escort my ex-wife and daughter here, let alone while wearing his police uniform. Probably trying to intimidate me.

"Gonna arrest me again, Henry?"

"Don't tempt me."

"I wouldn't dare," I said. "I know you don't bother with things like evidence or probable cause."

Henry beckoned me over until we were out of earshot of Samantha and Hanni. Hanni looked annoyed as her mother whispered things in her ear.

"I'm here to make something clear to you," Henry said.

"Henry, don't start."

"Shut up and listen," he snapped. "Hanni doesn't believe you're a sick fuck. But you and I know better, don't we?"

"You don't know shit, Henry. You lied in court to get your sister that restraining order, and you kept me away from my daughter for three years."

"And if she wasn't 18, I'd still be keeping you away from her, but if she wants to spend her last summer before college with you, I can't stop her."

"Look, just say what you're going to say."

"I'm going to be checking up on her all summer long," he said, his chin stiff. "And if I find out you've touched her, even looked at her the wrong way, I'm going to beat the hell out of you with my nightstick before I bring you in. You get me?"

"Jesus, Henry. Sam has really twisted your mind with all her lies, hasn't she?"

"Don't fuck with me, Charles. That's my niece."

"I get it. Are you done threatening me?"

He didn't answer, just clicked his tongue and rested his hand on his nightstick before walking back to Samantha. "I think we're done here."

Samantha gave Hanni a hug and then glared at me. "You behave."

"Jesus Christ, Sam. Give me some credit."

They drove off and Hanni waved goodbye. I had to keep from giving them the finger. Hanni smiled at me once they were out of sight. "I've missed you, Daddy. I mean, Dad. Mom says I shouldn't call you 'Daddy'."

I raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Cause it turns you on."

I palmed my face. "That's just... call me whatever you want. Your mother is out of her mind, Hanni. I know she told you some things about me, but they're not true."

She smirked at me. "Okay, Daddy. Come on, I want to see the house. It's been forever."

"You know the way," I said.

She hurried inside. I picked up her suitcases and followed her heart-shaped ass into the living room.

"Oh my god," she said, "even the furniture is the same!"

"It's been three years, Hanni, not 30," I said, setting the luggage down.

"It's just like a blast from the past, you know?"

I followed her as she walked around, trying not to look at that ass she had, the way her blue skirt seemed to fall off it and ripple with every step she took. She had a matching blue halter top and blue sandals. I noticed she had painted her fingers and toes baby blue as well. It contrasted sharply against her long red hair, fanning around her shoulders and chest.

In the dining room, she pulled out one of the chairs and sat at it. I chuckled as I stared at her. "Now that's something I've missed."

"Me too. You were always so fanatical about eating dinner as a family."

"Still am."

"And no cell phones at the table?"

"The rule stands."

"I can follow it," she said, standing up. "Don't want to get a spanking." She winked at me.

I rubbed my face again. I was going to let that one go.

The kitchen was next. She tugged open the refrigerator. "Whoa, I think I left this Chinese food in here three years ago."

"Hanni..."

She giggled. "Seriously, you need to go shopping." She pulled out a bottle of wine. "Wine? No brandy?"

"You don't refrigerate brandy."

"Oh. Do you have any brandy?"

"Yes. Why?"

She shrugged. "Just curious." She put the wine back and closed the refrigerator.

I followed her down the hall, but she didn't go into her room; she went into mine.

"Wow, you still have this giant bed." She ran and jumped on it, lying on her back with her arms spread apart. My eyes were on her blue skirt, the way it was riding up her thighs. I could've seen her panties if I had done something perverted like bend over... but I didn't.

"You remember my bed?" I asked.

"Yeah," she said. "I used to jump on it all the time."

I smirked. "Be my guest."

"Really?" she said, sitting up.

"Sure."

She kicked off her sandals and climbed to her feet. "I'm gonna do it."

"Do it," I said, my eyes darting to her skirt.

"Don't blame me if I break your box spring. I'm not 60 pounds anymore."

"I'm not worried about it."

"Okay, here I go!" She jumped, and as she came down, her skirt came up. I saw a flash of panties: simple white cotton, hugging tight to her crotch, and then they were gone. But up she went again and the skirt with it. My eyes feasted. She was giggling, and then she fell down on the bed. "Mom would kill me if she ever caught me jumping on the bed."

"I'm not as strict as your mother. Ready to see your room?"

"Yup." She jumped off the bed and passed me. Her room was right across the hall. "Wow, you left it just like I had it," she said. It was still painted purple with a purple blanket on the bed, and a desk off to one side that held a small TV. She laughed as she looked at a poster on the wall. "God, I can't believe I ever liked that band. So embarrassing." She ripped it right off the wall, crumpled it up, and dropped it into the paper basket. "It's so purple in here. Did you paint?"

"Not since you made me paint it the first time."

"So crazy. I was so immature." She opened the closet. It was empty. I had shipped all her clothes back to her a long time ago. "It's really weird being back in this room."

"This room has missed you, and so have I."

She stepped forward and gave me a hug. Her mother wasn't there to interrupt us this time, and I held her tight. So she was so warm and soft. It hit me then, I had my baby girl back, at least for the summer.

"I've really missed you, Daddy."

"Me too, kiddo."

"I'm sorry mom kept me away from you for so long."

"Not your fault. It's just how things happened."

She let go of me and sat down on the bed. "Still, it shouldn't have happened like that. I told the judge you never touched me or anything."

"After everything your mother and Henry said, the truth didn't matter. The judge had already made up his mind."

She bit her lip and looked down at her bare feet. She was bending her toes against the carpet. "But, like, is some of it true? Like, what Mom said, how you have a fetish for me? And she said you asked her to act like she was your daughter during sex?"

"Okay, look," I said, rubbing the back of my neck, "I really didn't want to talk about this, but if you want to get it out of the way, here it is. Your mother found out I had looked at some... things online, and so I admitted that, yes, I liked..." I paused, sighing. "I'm trying to phrase this so it's not weird or gross, because it was blown way out of proportion once. It cost me the last three years with you, and I don't want it to cost me anything else."

"Daddy, I'm not worried you're going to touch me or something. And I get it, I'm not a little kid. I know people are into different sex stuff. There's lots of porn out there where people pretend to be father and daughter."

"Okay, I'm going to act like I didn't hear the porn part, but yes, it's pretend. That's it exactly. It's all pretend, role playing. But your mother got it into her head that it meant I wanted to do something to you, which I didn't, and don't, and she used Henry to manipulate that family-court judge into giving her sole custody and refusing me visitation."

She nodded like she understood. "Okay, but is it true you were spanking me because you liked it? That's what mom said."

"No, that's not true. I was punishing you because you were misbehaving. You remember the rules I had about curfew and how you always broke them."

"Yeah, but is it true you told her you wish I'd been born a boy because I was a temptation as a girl?"

"Jesus, she said that?" I covered my face.

"Well, is it true?"

"That was out of context. What I meant was that she wouldn't be worried about me doing anything to you if you were a boy, and that if I wouldn't touch my son, I wouldn't touch my daughter either. That's what I meant."

"She also said you said you wanted to have sex with me on my 18th birthday."

"What the fuck. I never said that."

"Okay, I'm just telling you what she said."

"Well, your mother is exaggerating or lying or whatever, because she's trying to scare you away from seeing me, but I am and always will be your father, and I would never do anything to break your trust. Okay?"

"Okay."

"All right," I said with a heavy sigh. "I'll get your luggage so you can settle in."

I returned to the living room to grab her suitcases. I was glad that was over with. That talk was one I was hoping wouldn't come up, but just the same, I was glad it wasn't hanging over me. I wanted to strangle Sam for all the shit she told Hanni. What a fucking bitch.

When I brought the luggage back, Hanni was sitting on the bed with her back against the headboard, going through an old year book. She turned it around and held it up for me. "Daddy, look at my hair! It's like I'd never heard of a straightener before."

I kissed the top of her head. "Your hair is beautiful, now and then."

"Well, of course you'd say that. You've got the hots for me, now and then."

"Oh, come on, Hanni."

"Just teasing, Daddy," she said. "Hey, let's celebrate my summer vacation."

"Sure. What did you have in mind?"

"With a toast, of course, a toast of brandy for Hanni."

"Baby, you're 18."

"Yeah, and I'm not ordering at a bar. I can drink. You know I've been drinking with my friends since I was like 14, right?"

"Believe me, I know."

"Come on, be the cool parent. Let me drink."

I sighed. "Have you ever even had Hanni?"

"Nope, just beer. You haven't really had Hanni yet either." She winked at me.

"Hanni, that's enough, that's not funny."

"Come on, I'll stop teasing you if you give me alcohol."

"You're going to hate it, but why not?"

I went back out to the kitchen and took a bottle of Hanni down from the cabinet. I had plenty of shot glasses. I poured two. I also grabbed a couple beers. She was going to need one. I brought the shot back and handed it to her. I put one of the beers down on her bedside table.

"You're going to need that."

She grinned. "Thanks! Here, sit down, we'll toast." I sat down at the foot of the bed. She raised the shotglass. "To an awesome summer!"

"To summer." We clinked glasses and I took my shot and then watched her take hers. She nearly spit up. She started coughing and turned on her side.

"Oh, god! It's terrible! I can feel my toes tingling!" She coughed again. "God, gross. Why did you name me after that stuff? Yuck. I'm going to name my daughter Appletini or something."

"Your mother named you, and the alcohol had nothing to do with it." I popped the lid off her beer. "Try this."

She took it and swallowed a mouthful. "Ah, that's more my pace."

"You're too young to have a pace."

She settled back into the bed and lifted up her feet. She put her heel on my thigh and crossed her other foot over. My eyes followed her toes to her calves to her thighs to that blue skirt that hinted at so much underneath.

"Rub my feet?" she said. "That brandy made my toes all tingly."

"Sure," I said, placing my hands on top of her foot. My thumb came underneath and ran along her instep.

"Mmm, thanks. Can I ask some more questions about... you know?"

"Baby, can't we just leave the past in the past?"

"I guess I don't understand. I won't get upset even if you're like 'Yes, Hanni, I am all hot and bothered by you and I wanna fuck you.' Like, yeah, that would be weird, but I wouldn't cut you out of my life or anything." She paused to take a gulp of beer. "So I wanna know, how can you separate the pretend stuff from the real stuff? If you like to pretend to have sex with a girl who's your daughter, wouldn't that mean you think of me like that since I'm your legit daughter? And I'm not judging. I'm just curious."

I focused a little more on rubbing her foot, as that task was infinitely easier than explaining my fetish. My thumb ground into the ball of her foot and she inhaled.

"Hanni, it's like this. Let's say you saw a really attractive guy, like maybe one of these guys in one of the posters on your wall. Let's say you met that girly looking boy up there."

"God, Daddy, that's the next poster to go in the trash."

"Just let me do my analogy thing here. So you meet him, and you think he's great and hot or whatever, but at the same time, you know he's not attainable, so you don't think of him like that, since he's out of your league."

"So that's what you think about me, that I'm out of your league?"

I switched feet, rubbing her other one instead. Her eyes seemed to flutter as my thumbs rode into her heel. "Maybe it's more like, I choose to play in another league."

"Hm," she mumbled. "So that means you are attracted to me then?"

I rolled my eyes. I was not going to answer that question point blank. "Don't you have any fetishes?"

She raised her eyes. "You're asking me what my fetishes are?"

"No, no, it was rhetorical. What I'm saying is you said you're not a kid, so I'm sure you have your own things you're into, and they're probably hard to explain to your father."

She shrugged. "Not really. I can explain my fetishes."

"Really?" I said, pausing the foot massage. Now I was curious. "Like what?"

"Do you really want to know?" she said, taking another sip of beer. "Because I might surprise you."

I chuckled. "I'm already surprised. I guess you aren't a virgin anymore." I said it casually, but I wanted a direct answer.

"You wanna know if I'm a virgin?" she asked. "Keep rubbing."

I started rubbing her feet again, running my thumbs up and down her instep. "I'm curious if you are. I think any father would be. And if you aren't, I'd like to hear more about your boyfriend."

"If I answer your question, will you answer my next one, no matter what it is, truthfully?"

"I don't know about that."

"Come on," she said encouragingly. "We'll do it like a game. We'll play truth or dare. But you always have to tell the truth when you pick truth, or if you're too scared, you have to take a dare. The dare can be anything, and you have to do it, but if you don't do it, you lose the game."

"Anything?"

"Anything," she repeated. "But you have to live with yourself if you dare me to do something really mean or wrong, like daring me to have sex with you... so keep that in mind."

I shook my head. "Hanni, come on, I would never dare you to do something that."

"So then let's play. Or are you scared?"

I thought about it for a second as I held her toes in my hand. I wonder what secrets I could hear, and what dares I could make her do. "Okay, deal. But we already started, and it's my turn, and you have to tell the truth. Are you a virgin?"

She smiled. "Okay, truth is... Yes and no."

"Yes and no?"

"Technically, I haven't had a cock in my pussy, but I'm not exactly a virgin."

I cleared my throat. "Well, grown up words..."

"You're the one who asked. Do you want to play or not?"

I did. "What does 'not exactly' mean?"

"I've had lots of things in my pussy, so my pussy doesn't think I'm a virgin."

"Like what?" I asked.

She smirked at me. "Carrots, bananas, I tried celery, corn on the cob, and a cucumber once, but it hurt, so I left it off the grocery list next time."

"Wow, so my daughter was gangbanged by the produce section."

"Clean up in aisle one," she said, taking a sip of beer. "Okay, my turn. Truth or dare?"

"Geez, okay. Truth."

"Did you, or did you not, call mom by my name while you guys were fucking?"

"What the... Who said that, your mom?"

"Yeah. She said that was the very last time you guys did it, and it scared her so much she went to Uncle Henry."

"Look, I, I don't remember. She says it happened, but when it happened, if it happened, I was drunk that night, and I don't remember it."

"You honestly don't remember?"

"I honestly don't."

"So that means it probably happened."

"I can't defend myself against something I can't remember."

She grumbled. "Fine. Your turn."

"Okay. Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"You said you could explain your fetishes. Explain one."

"Okay, let's see." She took a sip of beer. "I'm into... daddy-daughter porn."

I nearly fell backward off the bed. "What?"

She bit her lip. "You stopped rubbing my feet."

"Oh, I get it. You're just saying that to fuck with me, aren't you?"

She shook her head. "You can't lie in a game of truth or dare. It's sacred. After mom told me everything about you, I did a lot of research and I looked at some of it online. It turned me on."

"I... don't know what to say."

"But it doesn't mean anything between us, right? Just like you said yours doesn't mean anything. It's all pretend, right?"

I was looking at her a little differently now. "Yeah. Yeah, of course not. I mean, yeah. Does your mother know?"

"Are you kidding me?"

"Right, stupid question. I'm just so surprised. Why do you like it?"

"It's my turn. Truth or dare?"

"Truth," I said.

"Okay, why do you like it?"

I rolled my eyes. "Geez, can't you ask me easier questions?"

"You asked me the same question first!"

"It's just... this stuff is uncomfortable to talk about."

"You're telling me! Honestly, you're the only person I can talk to about this, so I'm kinda glad I can finally admit it to someone, you know?"

I smiled. I felt like I really knew her in that moment. We had a secret in common, something a father and daughter should probably never have in common. "All right. I guess I like the dominant and submissive relationship between a father and daughter, the forbidden nature, the trust that's already between them."

"And breaking that trust?" she offered.

I smirked. "My turn. Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"Why do you like it?"

"Hm. Well... I guess I like the idea of a daddy taking advantage of me, using me, wanting me, taking care of me, loving me, protecting me. It's like you have a lover, a protector, and a family all wrapped up in one."

"You're really serious, aren't you?"

"Yeah. What, did you think I'm just lying to get you to talk?"

"Not anymore."

"Truth or dare?" she asked.

"Truth."

"Okay, Daddy, be honest. If I was in the 'daddy-daughter league' too, would you want to fuck me? You would, wouldn't you?"

I stared hard at her. "Are you in it?"

"It's still my turn."

I broke eye contact. "I would never do anything you didn't want me to, but I would do anything if you wanted me to."

She seemed to blush. "Oh."

"So what league are you in?"

"You have to say truth or dare first."

"Geez, truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"What league are you in?" I asked.

"Honestly, I'm not sure. I'm still in the minors and maybe I've talked to a few scouts, and I'm thinking about which league I'd like to play in, but your league is temping, because I've always thought you were handsome, and then I started to think you were sexy after I found out about your fetish and stuff. Kinda got in my head and made me wonder... So, I dunno, but that's part of the reason why I wanted to spend the summer with you, to find out how I wanna play the game."

I nodded, but my mind was racing. She was really considering it. I couldn't believe it. "Your turn."

"Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"Okay," she said. "What other fetishes do you have?"

"Pussy," I said. Her eyes seemed to sparkle at my use of the word. "I love the smell of it... on my hands and fingers, or if I eat a woman out and it's all over my nose and chin. It's intoxicating."

"Ooh, but is that really a fetish? I'm pretty sure all guys love pussy."

"Yeah, but do all guys want to put their head between your legs and inhale?"

She giggled. "You wanna put your head between my legs?"

"I meant, like, not yours, just... you know what I meant. My turn, truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"You gotta take a dare in here eventually," I said.

"You first. I'm not going down that road until you do."

"Okay. Give me another fetish," I said.

"Cock," she said with a grin. "Love the smell of it."

"Now you're just cheating at the game. And you said you were a virgin."

"I gave a hand job once," she said. "It would have turned into more, but he exploded and I went home. And if you're going to softball the truth or dare game, so am I," she said. "Truth or dare?"

I grumbled. "Truth."

"Give me another fetish too, something that makes your cock rock hard," she said.

I smirked at her. "Spanking."

"I knew it!" she said.

"Hey, I was punishing you, regardless."

"That explains the hard cock I always felt under my tummy when I was bent over your knee."

"Stop it, you did not. Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"I want another fetish," I said.

She bit her lip guilty. "Big cocks."

I laughed. "What the fuck? Are you sure you're a virgin?"

"I am, and I prefer them bigger."

"You haven't even had one yet," I said. "Or was that handjob guy so big, you can't go back?"

"No, the handjob guy wasn't that big, which is why I'm not with him."

"So where does fetish come from? Too much porn?"

"Sort of. A very special porn video, actually. Amateur quality, guy's POV, but my favorite. The guy in it has a really nice big cock, and the girl, well, she was boring, pretending to be a school girl with bad grades, but the sex was great. It was recorded in a bedroom that looked strangely like yours..."

My whole face was frozen. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

Her grin was widening. "Love that part at the end when you slap her in the face with your cock."

"Oh my fucking god. Your mother showed that to you? What kind of sick fuck is she? She said she threw it away!"

"She didn't show it to me. She lost it. Well, I stole it and she never found it. Same thing."

"I can't believe you watched that!" I said.

She laughed wildly and then dug her toes into my tummy. "Your face is so red, Daddy. It's so cute."

Of course my face was red. I was embarrassed, humiliated, mortified! But I was also turned on by the idea of her watching me fuck, and loving my cock. "I think you might be more fucked up than me."

She was still laughing. "Oh, I am, definitely. Truth or dare?"

"I'm not taking a dare until you do. Truth."

"I can play all night. Your next fetish."

"Long, bare legs," I said, and then I crossed a line. I slid my hand up the inside of her calf, to her knee, and brushed the inside of her thigh before running my hand all the way back down.

She shivered. "Daddy..."

"Gonna tell your mom I did that?"

She shook her head and took the last sip of her beer. "What happens in Hanni's bed, stays in Hanni's bed."

"My turn," I said. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth of course."

"What makes your pussy drip?"

"Daddy, you're getting naughty," she said with a smile. "Hope you're not taking advantage of me 'cause I'm a little drunk."

"We can stop playing anytime you want," I said.

She looked guilty. "My feet. I love having them rubbed. It makes me wet."

"Really?" I said.

She nodded.

I put my hands on them and started to rub again. She shivered.

"So this is..."

"Yup," she said with a breath. "Panties soaked. I like to paint my toenails so guys will look at them. Did you notice?"

"I did notice," I said.

"I painted them baby blue since I know it's your favorite color."

I chuckled. "For me?"

"Mmmhmm."

"Are you really wet or are you teasing me?" I asked.

"I'm really wet," she said, reclining further into the bed. "Like, fuck, I kinda want to play with myself."

"Want me to leave?"

She shook her head. "No, we're in the middle of a game. I can wait until later. I'm just getting really horny."

"I don't believe you," I said. "I don't think you're wet at all."

She looked at me. "Why would I lie about that?"

"I dunno, that's what I can't figure out."

"You'll just have to trust me," she said. "Truth or dare?"

"Dare," I said.

"Finally," she said. "Let's see, what can I do to really embarrass you? I dare you to..."

"Yes?"

"Suck my toes for 60 seconds."

I laughed softly. "This better not make you wet while I'm doing it."

She grinned. "No promises." She lifted up her foot and wiggled her toes. "Start sucking."

I held her foot by the ankle, and then I let my tongue come out. I licked along her instep and she squeaked. My tongue ran over the ball of her foot and poked between her big toe and second toe. I could see her mouth was hanging open as she watched me. Her hands were on her tummy. I opened my mouth and took in her second and third toes, sucking and licking between them. I heard her let out a moan and she squirmed. I nipped at her toes with my teeth, licking them and sucking harder.

"Ohh," she said with a heavy breath. "Okay, okay, 60," she said, pulling her toes out of my mouth.

I smiled at her. "Did you like that?"

She bit her lip. "You have to say truth or dare first."

"Truth or dare?"

"Dare."

I laughed. "Okay. I dare you to show me how wet you are."

Her eyes bulged. "Um... wow, okay... big dare."

"You can always stop playing."

"And let you win? No way. But how do I show you?"

"However you want. Just prove it, unless you can't."

She put her feet flat on the bed. They started to spread open, gliding across the purple bedspread. My eyes shot up to the space between her legs. Her skirt was splitting open as her legs moved farther apart. Then came the panties, those white panties that had peeked out at me earlier. The mere sight of them gave my cock a stir. They were most certainly wet. I could see the outline of her pussy lips as they stuck to her crotch, as well as the little bulge of her hard clit.

"I can't tell from here..." I said.

She looked me in the eyes. "Do you wanna come closer?"

"May I?"

She nodded. As I leaned in a little closer, she grasped the collar of my shirt. She pulled me in and I tipped forward, my face coming between her legs, stopping inches from her pussy, the heat warm against my face like a summer day. They were soaked, and this close, I could see through them.

"See?"

"I see."

Her hand was on my head, her fingers running through my hair. "Believe me?"

"I believe you."

"Truth or dare?" she asked.

"Dare."

"Wanna smell my pussy?"

I glanced up at her from between her legs. "Oh, yes."

Her other hand ran down her stomach and between her thighs. Her long middle finger stroked on top of her panties, across her hard clit and along the valley of her labia. "Do it."

I came closer, my nose bumping into her hard clit. I heard her take a quick gasp as I took a deep inhalation through my nose. Fuck, that scent. Maybe it was because she was my daughter, but pussy had never smelled so sweet. I could not help myself. I ground my nose against her sex and she let out a loud moan.

"God, careful, Daddy."

"Sorry, baby, it smells so delicious."

"Mmm, you like it?"

"I love it."

"Making you hungry?"

"Famished," I said. I moved my mouth in, and without warning, I let my tongue run from the bottom of her pussy to the top, dragging it across her panties, stabbing it forward to spread her lips apart, feeling the coarseness of the cotton, pushing against her hard clit poking out.

"Holy fuck!" she said.

I pulled my tongue away and looked up at her. "I couldn't help myself."

"I can't believe you just licked my pussy," she said.

"I licked your panties, not your pussy."

She was blushing scarlet. "You're naughty, Daddy." She closed her legs and I sat up. "Take your turn."

"Truth or-"

"Dare."

I grinned. "Okay." I climbed off the bed, standing right beside it. "Your turn. I dare you to smell my cock."

She stared up at me with big uncertain eyes. "I dunno..."

"Are you quitting the game? Are you scared? Yup, I bet that video I made scared you, huh?"

"I'm not scared."

"Prove it."

She climbed up on her knees, the skirt taking away my lovely view of those wet panties. She inched closer, looking at the big bulge in my pants. I put my hands on my hips as my daughter came forward, crawling on her hands and knees toward me.

"Open the belt," I told her. "Hard to smell anything through jeans."

"Okay," she said under her breath.

Her little fingers were shaking as she grasped the leather and pulled against the buckle. They loosened, held together by a button. She nervously pinched it between her fingers and pried it apart. They nearly slipped down my legs, but my zipper held them up. She was trying hard not to touch the bulge as she reached for the little metal tongue. She pulled down with a steady hand until the weight of my jeans took over, leaving me there with a raging hard cock covered by a thin layer of 40% cotton 60% polyester.

She looked up at me. "Your cock is hard."

"You didn't think it would stay soft while I was licking your pussy, did you?"

"I thought you licked my panties?"

"My cock couldn't tell the difference."

I reached out for her, running my hand through her hair, holding the side of her head. "Don't be scared. Just move a little closer and take a breath."

"Yes, Daddy," she said. She stretched her neck and her nose came closer to my big cock, bent to the side, making an obscene outline. Her nostrils pulsed as she inhaled. "Hmm..."

"Still too far?"

"Kinda..."

Her nose came right to the flap of my boxers, the single button strained to break apart as my fat daddy cock pushed up against it.

"Unbutton that."

She glanced up at me. "Are you sure?"

"Trust me," I whispered to her, nudging her in with my hand on her head. She reached up, careful not to touch my cock as her little fingertips bent the plastic button to the side. It split open and she could clearly see thick cock flesh before her eyes.

"Oh," she whispered.

"It's not going to hurt you."

Her nose came closer and closer. And then I felt the tip of it touch the shaft of my cock. She inhaled and hummed in her throat. I stroked the side of her head.

"You like that, baby?"

She looked up, pulling the tip of her nose away from my cock. "Yes. It smells musky."

"Are you getting wetter?"

"Yes," she whispered, keeping eye contact with me. "It's kinda making my mouth water."

"Well, now you're giving me ideas..."

She sat back on the bed, breaking contact. "My turn first."

"Dare," I answered before she asked.

"Um, okay. I dare you to, um... do you want to taste my pussy juice?"

I sat down next to her. "Oh, yes."

"Okay," she said, lying back. She spread her legs a little, and I moved between them. Her hand wandered across her stomach, her fingers slipping into the rim of her panties. I watched as the outline of her middle finger ran down across her clit and slipped between her pussy lips and vanished into her warm wet hole. She pulled her fingers out and held them up, gooey and slick in front of my face. "Still want to?"

Damn, and I thought she wanted me to eat her pussy. Nevertheless, I did not hesitate to wrap my lips around two of her fingers. My jaw tightened as the taste flooded my mouth. Fuck, I could not believe I was tasting my daughter's pussy juices. This was far from my expectations.

"Fuck," I whispered.

"Is it good?" she asked.

"Mmhm."

She was blushing. "Okay, your turn. Dare."

I stared hard at her. "I dare you to show me your breasts."

Her eyes got big. "Um, okay. For how long?"

"For however long you want."

"Okay."

She took the bottom of her halter top and lifted it up over her head. There was no bra to hide her round, soft breasts from my eyes. Her nipples were stiff, pointing toward me. As she dropped the halter top on the bed, she shyly covered her chest.

"What do you think?"

"Lovely," I said.

She smiled. "Thanks."

"Dare," I said.

"Oh," she said. "Um... Can I dare you to lick my panties again? Just for 60 seconds?"

My grin was wide. "Yes, you can."

"Okay," she said. I noticed as she leaned back in the bed and spread her legs apart, she did not bother to put her halter top back on. However, as I came closer to her pussy, I watched as her hands began to explore her own body, her fingertips grazing her nipples.

We met eyes for a moment as my tongue rolled out and poked at her soggy panties. She held her breath as I licked the cotton outline of her pussy lips, but she gasped as my tongue ran over her hard clit.

"Oh fuck," she whispered.

I closed my mouth around her little clit and sucked on it through her panties. She groaned loudly and grabbed my head. Then she began humping up against my mouth as I licked, running my tongue up and down her pussy lips, stabbing the tip against the cotton, trying to make my way into her warm wet hole.

"Fuck, Daddy! Okay, okay, 60 seconds."

I pulled my mouth away. "I can go longer."

She shook her head. "You almost made me cum."

"You don't want to cum?"

"Well, I mean, I'll make a mess and stuff."

"I like messes."

"I dunno. I'm nervous. It's your turn. Dare."

I sat up on the bed. My nose and lips were still wet from her pussy. I wanted her to taste it. "I dare you to kiss me for 60 seconds."

Her legs were closed now. "Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Like, what kind of kiss?" she asked.

"The sloppy kind. Pretend I'm your boyfriend. I want your tongue in my mouth."

"Um, okay."

She came closer to as we both rested on our knees in front of each other. She put her hands on my shoulders. Her little fingers caressed my neck while she looked into my eyes.

"I'm a little nervous about this," she admitted.

"It's just a kiss. What daughter wouldn't kiss her father?"

"Most daughters don't put their tongues in their father's mouths."

"And most daughters don't dare their father's to lick their panties."

She blushed and then pressed her lips to mine. I pressed back, my hands holding on to her waist, crushing her body against mine. I could feel her hard nipples poking into my chest, and I cursed my shirt for being in the way. My cock was throbbing in my boxers, touching her hip. Her tongue stretched out and passed between my lips and my tongue met it. All the sounds of our wet, sloppy kiss reached my ears, our lips smacking together, our muffled groans and strained breath. I couldn't believe it. I was kissing my daughter. I had never been so turned on.

"60," she said as she broke the kiss, wiping her wet chin. "Truth or dare?"

"Dare."

"I wanna see your cock. Take off your boxers."

I was glad she asked. I was about to dare myself to do that. I lifted my shirt up first, pulling it off. I didn't want it in my way anymore. Her eyes roamed over my hard chest and followed my hands down to the elastic band of my boxers. I pushed them down inch by inch, the shaft of my thick cock showing more and more, until it sprung free, bobbing in front of her.

"Fuck," she said.

"Better than the video?" I asked as I pulled the boxers off.

"Yes," she whispered.

"Still scared?" I asked.

"More curious than scared," she said.

I grinned. "Truth or dare?"

"Dare."

"I dare you to lick my cock, from base to tip," I said.

Her eyes were wide. "Daddy, that's a really big dare."

"I licked your pussy," I reminded her.

"You licked my panties."

"Same thing," I said, "and you know it."

"Okay... one lick."

She lay down on her tummy and propped herself up by her elbows. My thick cock hovered in the air inches from her face. She seemed to size it up as she titled her head.

"I'm gonna have to touch it, like, so I can lick it properly."

"You can definitely touch it."

"Okay."

She slowly wrapped her hand around the base of my shaft, lifting my cock up. She moved her face in closer and I watched her tongue come out. And then I felt the warm wet coarseness of her tongue touch my shaft. She dragged it all the way from the bottom to the top. I held my breath as the tip of her tongue ran along the underside of my bulbous mushroom head. And then she pulled her tongue away, followed by her hand.

"I did it," she said.

"You missed a spot," I said quickly.

"Huh?"

"Where your hand was holding it."

"Oh..."

She took my cock by the head this time and lifted it up. Just feeling her squeeze the tip between her fingers was bliss. She came in again and let her little tongue run down the base of the shaft, connecting the wet line she had started. She gave me a smile and then planted a soft kiss on the underside of my cock before letting it go.

"My turn," she said.

"Okay..." Fuck, I wanted more. "Dare."

"Okay, I dare you, daddy dearest, to put your cock between my boobs for 60 seconds and do that titty fuck thing you did with mom in that video."

I laughed. "Happily."

She smirked as she lay back on the bed. I went after her, moving up her body, straddling her stomach, laying my fat cock down on her chest.

"Do I push them together now?" she asked, taking her breasts in both hands and mashing my cock between them.

"That's good, baby. Ready?"

"Yeah," she whispered, looking down at it.

"Okay, here we go," I said, pulling my cock back before I gently pushed forward. My big cock slipped out from in-between her tits.

"Sorry, Daddy, I know my boobs aren't as big as mom's," she said, pushing her breasts back together.

"That's okay, sweetheart," I said gently grinding my cock back and forth between them.

"I guess we need oil," she said as she watched my cock slide between her soft breasts.

"Yeah," I mumbled, but it still felt great. I pushed a little harder, jamming the head of my cock into her chin.

"Oh, careful."

I did it again, trying to poke at her mouth. She looked up at me and smirked. Then she looked down, and as my cock came toward her, her tongue shot out and gave it a lick.

"Fuck."

"Mmm, such a bad daddy," she said.

I thrust forward again, and she gave my cock one more lick. I was going to ram my whole cock into her mouth on the next thrust, but she said, "Time's up."

I frowned as she sat up and my cock fell away. I needed more, a lot more.

"My turn?"

"Yup. I'll take a dare," she said

"I dare you to rub your panties on my cock for 60 seconds."

She pulled her eyes away from my hard cock to look me in the eye. "Huh? How do I do that?"

"However you want."

"But I'm wearing them."

"Yeah, and you have to keep wearing them while you do the dare."

"Oh, I see. That's a dirty trick, Daddy."

"Don't be mad if I'm better at this game than you."

"Sit back," she said.

I sat back on the bed, my cock pointing up, lying on my stomach. She came closer, her legs widening. I was looking at her creamy breasts while she was busy lining up her crotch. She straddled me, sitting down slowly, her panty-covered pussy touching my shaft, sending lightning into my rod and through my body.

I couldn't see much from under her skirt, but I felt everything. She gently rocked back and forth against my cock, grinding her pussy up and down along the length of my shaft. She was pushing down hard too, crushing her cunt into my cock, gyrating her hips to dance on my cock.

"Fucking hell," I said, looking into her eyes.

She grinned at me. "Truth or dare?"

"It's still my turn," I said, barely able to focus as I felt the cotton of her panties sliding up and down. She was so wet, her juices were seeping through and coating my long cock. I was praying for some kind of accident that would help my cock to slip past the fabric of her panties and into the warmth of her tight little daughter hole.

"I dare you to suck my nipples while I do this," she said.

I was glad she asked, because I wanted to do it anyway. I opened my mouth and wrapped it around her nipple, pulling the hard tip between my teeth and sucking. She groaned and pushed down against my cock. I pushed back, grinding my shaft up into her panties. I wanted inside of her, badly, now more than ever. I adjust my cock and then thrust up, the head of my dick stabbing against her pussy, trying to rip into it.

"Shit!" she cried. "Careful, Daddy! It'll go inside if you're not careful."

I pinched her nipple between my teeth and she squeaked. I thrust against her pussy again, and again her panties cockblocked me. I lifted my hips up, spearing my cock toward the edge of her panties, trying to angle the head to slip inside. It was so frustrating to be defeated by a pair of $5.00 panties.

"Fuck!"

"Oh, god, Daddy! Be careful. Are you trying to fuck me? Because it seems like you're trying to fuck me. Don't thrust up like that."

She readjusted her crotch and then pushed down, pinning my shaft to my pubic bone as she grinded down and wiggled her hips. "There."

I grunted with her nipple in my mouth, but then she pulled her breasts away from me. "60."

"Fuck..."

But she didn't get up, she stayed there with my cock pinned under her soaking wet panties. "Take your turn."

"Truth or dare?" I asked quickly. I knew what the next dare was. She about to get fucked.

"Truth."

"Huh?"

"Ask your question."

"Fuck... My question is... shit. Hanni, baby, I want to fuck you so badly. You can feel how hard my cock is. I need you, baby girl."

She smiled with a blush. "What's your question, Daddy?"

"May I please put my cock in your pussy?"

"Um... I'm not sure yet," she said softly.

"Fuck..."

"That just seems like a bit too far, don't you think?"

"Baby, I can't keep playing this game. I'm horny as hell. I need to fuck or stop."

She bit her lip. "But I like playing this game. I'm horny too, you know?"

"Then dare me to make you cum," I told her.

"How would you make me cum?" she asked. "Without sex, I mean?"

"I'll rub my cock against your pussy," I told her.

She wiggled her crotch. "I'm already doing that."

"I'll do it this time, and we'll take your panties off."

She gulped. "What if you accidentally put your cock in me?"

"I wouldn't do that. That's not the dare."

"You promise not to?"

"I told you, I wouldn't do anything you didn't want me to."

She was blushing red. "Okay. I dare you to rub your cock against my pussy until I cum."

"Lie back," I told her.

She did as she was told, lying on her back, looking up at me with trepidation.

"Take off your skirt and panties," I said.

"Okay," she whispered. She lifted herself up as she ran her hands down to her skirt and panties, hooking her thumb in the waist and pushing both down at once. My eyes were ready to take in the sight of her pink puffy lips, but she shyly cupped her pussy with her hands, blocking my view. "I'm embarrassed."

"It's okay, baby. I like what I've seen so far."

"I didn't think it would happen like this," she said. "I really thought we would just tease and flirt with each other a little."

"I know. Move your hands and spread your legs, baby."

She opened up her legs and moved her hands. I crawled between her thighs, sitting on my calves. She kept her legs nice and wide for me as I scooted closer. I was holding my cock up, but as I came closer, I let it drop. It fell right on top of her crotch, lying across her wet pussy and pubic mound.

"Oh, oh, god," she said, looking down and watching me. "You promised, not inside me, right?"

"Trust me," I whispered, holding my cock by the base. It was a bat made of solid steel. I gave it a swing, tapping her pussy flesh. It rippled when I hit it and she squirmed and moaned.

"God, Daddy. That felt good."

"You want me to do it again?"

"Yes, please."

I did as she asked, gently tapping her pussy lips with the shaft of my cock, her wet juices amplifying the sound of each quick slap. She was breathing hard, lifting up her back to try to meet my cock each time it connected with her pussy.

"Mmm fuck," she said. I glanced at her and realized she was cupping her breasts, rolling her nipples between her fingers, giving them gentle squeezes. "More," she said.

I carefully pressed my fat cock up against her pussy lips. They spread open to hug my long shaft. I moved my cock from side to side, all while my mushroom head batted her hard little clit.

"God, Daddy! Fuck, I'm so wet."

"I know you are, baby. Your pussy is drooling all over me," I said slapping my cock into her cunt again, splashing little droplets of leaking pussy juice.

"I wanna cum so bad," she said.

"Where do you like to rub your pussy when you cum, baby?"

"My clit."

"Rub it with my cock. Take it."

I reached for her hand, taking it and bringing it down. She stretched her neck to get a better look as she took hold of it. She carefully grinded my mushroom head right into her hard clit. Her hips started gyrating, rubbing her clit up into the head of my cock.

"Fuck, right there," she said.

I was pushing back, crushing my cock head into her clit as she rubbed. I was so hard, I was worried she was going to make me cum, but I didn't want to cum yet, not until I was deep inside her pussy.

"You love my cock, don't you, baby?" I asked as I watched her slapping her clit with it.

"Fuck, yes, I love it."

"Just imagine how good it would feel inside you, baby, stretching you open."

"Ohh, Daddy, I know it would."

I pulled my cock back and pushed forward, rubbing the head up along her pussy lips and back into her clit where she lifted her hips to rub against it again.

"Fuck, that feels amazing!" she said.

"Do you want it in your pussy, baby?"

"God... Yes... but, we can't."

I took control of my cock and started slapping her clit in quick succession. She moaned loudly and threw her head back.

"Fuck!"

"We can," I whispered, assaulting her swollen clit with my rock hard cock.

"Daddy! God, fuck! I'm cumming!" she screamed.

While I rubbed, grinded, and slapped her pussy with my cock, I could see her muscles contract and spill her little girl cum. I watched it run out and soak the bed. She was still whimpering and moaning as she finished. I kept rubbing... It was my turn next.

"Did that feel good, baby?"

"Yes, god yes," she said, her eyes opening again and focusing on me.

"Truth or dare, baby," I said.

"Daddy, we can't."

"Truth or dare."

"...Dare."

"I dare you... to let me put my cock inside your pussy."

She bit her lip hard as she looked down. "Daddy..."

"Double dog dare," I added while I gently stroked her pussy lips with the shaft of my cock, thrusting my hips in slow motion to slide my dick across her slippery channel.

"Um... Maybe just, what if I said just the head?" she said.

"Just the head?"

"Yeah, just the head, and only for 60 seconds. It's not the whole thing, so it's not as wrong, right?"

"That's right, baby, just the head."

"And I get to put it in," she said, reaching down, wrapping her delicate fingers around my shaft. "No thrusting either."

"I'll be good," I said. I would have said anything to get into her pussy at this point.

I watched her with all the care in the world hold my cock firmly around the shaft, her fingers carefully coiling just under the head, presumably to stop any more from going in. As she squeezed, my cock head grew bigger and purpler, turning it into a raging bull ready to charge at that red pussy. She brought the head down and gently slid it against her pussy lips, parting them. She seemed to hesitate.

"It's okay, sweetie," I said. "It's just like the cucumber. Just slide it in."

"Okay. You'll keep count, right?"

"Sure I will."

"Okay. Here we go..."

She angled my cock head perfectly with her wet hole, lifted her hips, and then slowly drove herself down on it. Heat enveloped my cockhead, sending pleasure shooting down my shaft and up to my braining, but I quickly hit a wall as her fist bumped into her pussy.

We both let out a groan of pleasure together. Fuck, I was inside my daughter. Finally, all my fantasies had come true. Never mind it was just the head. I'd worry about stuffing the rest of it inside her later.

"Fuck," I said. "Fuck, you're tight."

"Fuck," she echoed. "Your cock is big."

"You should feel the rest of it."

"Geez, I can feel it stretching me open," she said, looking down. "Is it just the head? It feels like a lot more."

"It's just the head, baby."

Her head fell back as she looked up at the ceiling. "Fuck, Daddy. I can't believe we're doing this."

"Me either," I said, gently tugging back on my cock, pulling her hand along with me, only to push forward. She groaned and looked down.

"What are you doing?"

"Just rubbing it inside you a little..."

"But I thought we said no thrusting."

"It's not thrusting, it's massaging. It's just the head."

I pulled back and then pushed forward again, leaning against her. I felt a little bit of slack in her grip and was sure I had gained half an inch.

"Ohh, fuck," she said. "Careful, Daddy, you're going to put too much in if you push like that."

"Sorry," I whispered, gently pulling out and pushing back in. "God, you're so wet."

"Mmm, god, daddy this feels amazing."

"Do you want to feel the rest of it?" I asked, pushing against her and trying again to shove my cock head deeper into her pussy, but her grip wasn't giving.

"God, Daddy, don't tempt me."

"Here, move your hand, baby," I said.

"Why?" she said.

"So I can enjoy it. You're crushing my cock. It hurts."

"Oh. Um, you promise not to push in anymore?"

"I promise."

"Okay," she said, her grip easing on my cock.

I was free, and my cock head was buried between her pussy lips, just kissing inside her. It took every ounce of willpower not to plow into her. Instead, I gently withdrew, and gently pushed back in, feeding my cock head into her pussy.

She groaned again. "Fuck. Oh, fuck. I bet all of it would feel amazing."

"It would," I said, holding still for a moment, reaching down and letting my thumb glide over her swollen clit. I stroked it.

"Mmm, oh."

"You know, baby..." I said, my thumb caressing her clit, my cock head moving around inside her every time she squirmed. "The truth is, you're not a virgin anymore. It doesn't matter if it's just the head or the whole thing. We're fucking. You know that, right?"

She looked at me with a frown. "I know."

"Let daddy put the rest inside you, okay?"

She bit her lip hard. "How much time is left?"

I hadn't actually been counting. It felt like five minutes, but I said, "30 seconds."

"You can put it all the way in, just for 30 seconds, but no thrusting. Just put it in and don't move it."

"Deal."

We both watched as I leaned into her, my cock disappearing into her tight cunt inch by inch. Her pussy was a furnace. I stuffed my long shaft into her as deep as it would go. She was groaning loudly with her head back as I finally hit a wall.

"Fuck! Holy fuck, Daddy! Okay, stop!"

"God, baby, you're doing great."

"Fuck, I can feel it so deep inside me, Daddy," she whined. "God. Okay, okay, it's in. Don't push anymore. Just, just leave it there."

I left it there, lodged deep in her pussy. I wasn't going to press my luck now. Instead, I kept my hand on her pubic mound, gently rubbing, my thumb caressing her clit. "How does it feel, baby?"

"Feels so big," she said. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing heavy. "God, I don't know what's happening to me."

I rubbed up to her tummy and moved my hand in a circle, massaging around her bellybutton. But my eyes were on my cock. It looked so amazing lodged inside her, her pink lips hugging tight around my shaft, her red clit, everything was so wet and slick, and I was so hard. I could not help but throb inside her. I needed to fuck her, fuck her hard, feel the resistance of her body as I plowed into her. But how to get her to let me? I stroked her clit a few more times and she groaned.

"Feel good?" I asked.

"I think... I think I need to cum again," she said heavily, looking down at me.

I had her now. I quickly yanked my long, fat cock out of her pussy with a slurping sound. "Time's up."

"Huh?"

My hard cock was dripping with her juices as it hovered over her. "Your turn."

"Seriously?" she said.

"Yup, and make it a good one, because I'm done playing now."

"Why?" she said, sitting up on her elbows.

"Because there's nothing else I can dare you to do."

She was chewing on her lip, her eyes darting from my cock to my face. "I thought you were going to start fucking me. You know that was way over 60 seconds, right?"

"I lost count. What's your last dare?"

"Daddy..."

"What is it Hanni?"

Her head fell back and she covered her face. "You're gonna make me say it, aren't you?"

"Say what?"

"Fuck me..."

"What's that?"

She peeked at me between her eyes. "I dare you to fuck me."

"Sorry, I couldn't hear," I said, but my hand was on my cock, giving it a gentle stroke.

"Daddy, fuck me. Please."

I leaned down over her, driving my cock back into her pussy where it belonged, splitting her open as I came face to face. Her warm breath moaned against my chin.

"What changed your mind?" I whispered, burying my cock inside her as deep as it would go.

"Fuck... I, I don't know. I just didn't want to prove mom right, but I don't care anymore. It might be wrong, but it feels so good."

"It's right, babygirl. I've waited so long for this."

I drew my hips back and thrust my cock back into her, making her groan from deep in her belly. I kissed her hard on the mouth, our breath strained as our lips and tongues were busy. I held her close to me as I started to rhythmically pump my long thick cock into her delicate pussy.

She was working with me, lifting herself up to meet each of my thrusts, taking as much cock into her little pussy as would fit, gasping for each breath I penetrated her nice and deep.

"Oh, god!" she cried. "Fuck. Daddy, do you think I'm a whore now?"

"Shh," I whispered, holding the back of her head as I fucked her. "You're not a whore. And if you are, you're daddy's little whore, understand?"

She nodded. "Never tell mom?"

"Never."

We stopped talking for a moment as we fucked harder, watching each other as our sweaty bodies drove toward a common goal. We both needed to cum. I was ramming my long cock into her, and she was grinding her cunt into it as I came down. Her mouth opened wide and she lost her breath. Her nails dug into my shoulders, her eyes fluttered, and I knew she was done.

"F-fuck!" she screamed.

I felt her pussy clench down on my cock as she creamed all over. I had taken as much as I could as well. I groaned in her ear, rammed my cock in as hard as I could, and let myself cum. My cock erupted and jerked inside her, spewing warm seed deep in her belly. We held each other tight as our orgasms peaked.

As I finished, I gave her a few slow, weak thrusts, and then pulled my gooey cock out of her slippery pussy. I fell down on the bed next to her and took in air. She turned and wrapped her arms around me. I pulled her in a little closer.

"God, I can't believe we did that," she said.

"Me either."

Her breath was heavy on my chest. "If Mom ever finds out, she'll kill me. And if Uncle Henry finds out, he'll literally murder you."

"Yeah. Let's not tell either of them, ever."

She nodded slowly. "Better hope I don't get pregnant. They might suspect."

"You probably should've used one of those dares on a condom."

She chuckled. "That's not funny."

"I know it's not. I'm the one who's gonna get murdered. We'll have to be more careful next time."

"Next time?" she said, looking up at me. "So, what, you're just gonna fuck me whenever you want now?"

"That's the plan, yeah."

She grinned. "In that case, can we start sleeping in your room? A twin size bed is way too small to fuck in all summer long."

[mineganoe]

Come And Stay

tripleS Xinyu x male reader (1st person)

words: 7.7k+

The ping of my phone jolted me out of the code I was debugging. It was a quiet Tuesday evening, the kind where the hum of my laptop and the occasional creak of my apartment’s radiator were the only sounds keeping me company.

I glanced at the screen, expecting a work Slack notification or maybe a meme from one of my group chats. Instead, it was a name I hadn’t seen in years:

Xinyu.

“Hey, long time no talk! I’m passing through your town tomorrow for some fieldwork. Any chance I could crash at your place for a night? Just need a spot to rest after running around all day.”

Xinyu. High school classmate. Not a close friend, but not a stranger either. We’d shared a few homework, sat near each other in math, maybe exchanged a couple of sarcastic comments about our teacher’s obsession with graphing calculators. Ordinary. That was the word for it. No drama, just… classmates. I hadn’t thought about her in years, not since graduation when everyone scattered like leaves in the wind.

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the text. My first instinct was to say I was busy—work was hectic, and I wasn’t exactly the “host guests” type.

But then I thought about my spare room, the one I’d set up for the occasional friend who needed a couch to crash on.

It was empty, bed made, pillows fluffed. I’d even jokingly called it my “guest suite” when my last buddy stayed over last month.

Plus, Xinyu wasn’t asking for a week-long stay. Just one night. I typed back before I could overthink it.

“Sure, I’ve got a spare room. What time you coming by?”

Her reply came almost instantly. “Thanks! Probably late afternoon. I’ll let you know. You’re a lifesaver.”

I set the phone down, a little surprised at myself. Hosting an old classmate wasn’t exactly how I’d planned to spend my week, but it wasn’t a big deal. I’d be working from home anyway, grinding through lines of code for a client’s app. I could spare a few minutes to let her in, point her to the guest room, and call it a day.

.

The next day, I stuck to my routine: coffee, emails, a quick scroll through SNS to see what people were yelling about.

Xinyu didn’t text again, so I figured she’d show up as planned. I tidied the apartment—not because I cared what she thought, but because I didn’t want to look like a slob.

I vacuumed the living room, wiped the kitchen counter, and checked the guest room’s bed for fresh sheets.

On a whim, I hit the corner store and grabbed chips, gummy worms, and a couple of instant ramen packs. I didn’t know what she liked, but snacks seemed like a safe bet.

Work kept me busy, my eyes glued to lines of code as I hunted a stubborn bug. I checked my phone every so often, expecting a heads-up from Xinyu.

Nothing. By 6 PM, I wondered if she’d flaked.

By 8 PM, I was sure of it. I ate dinner alone—leftover stir-fry from the fridge—and plopped onto the couch with a beer, half-watching some show I didn’t care about.

Then, at 10 PM, my phone buzzed.

“Hey, I’m here. Just parked. Sorry it’s so late.”

I blinked, thrown off. 10 PM? I’d expected her hours ago, not practically midnight.

I typed a quick “No worries, coming down” and grabbed my keys. As I rode the elevator to the lobby, my mind raced.

What would she be like now? Would she still have that same magnetic pull she did in high school? I shook my head. Chill, dude. She’s just crashing here.

Outside, the street was quiet, lit by dim streetlights. A beat-up Toyota Corolla was parked haphazardly near the curb. The driver’s door opened, and Xinyu stepped out.

Holy hell. She looked… wrecked. Her hair, once always perfectly tied back, was a tangled mess, half-falling out of a ponytail.

Her jacket was rumpled, jeans streaked with dirt, sneakers caked in mud. She had a backpack over one shoulder and a duffel in her hand, both sagging like they carried her entire life.

Her face—still unmistakably her, with those sharp cheekbones and piercing eyes—was pale, drawn, exhausted. Like she’d been chewed up and spit out by the day.

“Hey,” she said, her voice rough. “Sorry for the late hour. It’s been… a lot.”

I didn’t know what to say. “Uh, you good?”

She gave a tired huff, almost a laugh. “Not really. Long story. Can we go up?”

I nodded, grabbing her duffel before she could argue. “Yeah, this way.”

The elevator ride was silent. Xinyu leaned against the wall, eyes half-closed, like she was seconds from passing out.

I stole a glance, trying to reconcile this worn-out woman with the untouchable goddess from high school.

She was still beautiful, even like this—maybe more so, in a raw, unpolished way. But she looked like she’d been through hell.

In my apartment, I flicked on the lights and pointed to the guest room. “Bed’s ready, bathroom’s side the hall. You want anything? Snacks, water, something?”

She dropped her backpack with a thud and shook her head. “I just need to clean up and crash. Shower okay?”

“Yeah, towels are in there. Take your time.”

She gave a small, grateful nod—barely a smile, but it reminded me of the Xinyu who’d smirk when I’d pass her my homework answers. She shuffled toward the bathroom, duffel in tow, and the door clicked shut.

I stood there, feeling weirdly out of place. This wasn’t what I’d expected. I’d pictured a quick catch-up, maybe some light banter about old times. Not Xinyu showing up like a storm survivor.

I grabbed a beer from the fridge and sank onto the couch, keeping the TV low. The shower started, a faint hum through the walls. I tried to focus on the screen, but my mind kept drifting.

What was she doing here, in my nowhere town, looking like that? Fieldwork, she’d said. Surveying. Sounded intense, but I wasn’t about to pry. One night. That’s all this was.

Then, I don’t know what possessed me. Maybe it was the beer, maybe it was the fact that Xinyu—The Xinyu—was in my apartment, a ghost from my teenage fantasies.

I remembered the way guys would whisper about her in the locker room, how I’d catch myself staring in class when she’d laugh or flip her hair. She was untouchable then, and now… now she was here.

I stood up, my heart thudding, and crept toward the bathroom. The door was old, with a slight gap at the hinge—enough to see through if you tried. I knew it was wrong, knew I should walk away, but my feet didn’t listen.

I leaned closer, my breath shallow. Through the gap, I could see the shower’s glass door, fogged with steam.

Xinyu’s silhouette moved behind it, her form unmistakable even through the haze. The curve of her shoulders, the line of her waist—she was still every bit as stunning as I remembered, maybe more so now, stripped of the high school polish.

My mouth went dry, guilt and adrenaline clawing at me. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be looking. But I couldn’t move.

She turned off the water, and I snapped out of it, stumbling back to the couch like I’d been burned. My heart was racing, my face hot with shame.

What the hell was wrong with me? She was exhausted, trusting me to give her a place to rest, and here I was acting like a creep. I downed the rest of my beer, trying to drown the feeling, and stared at the TV until the shower stopped.

A few minutes later, the guest room door opened and closed. Silence. She’d probably passed out the second she hit the bed. I stayed up another hour, wrestling with myself.

I wasn’t like those guy. I wouldn’t be that guy. By the time I went to bed, I’d convinced myself to forget it, to pretend it never happened. I left out snacks and water for her, just in case, and crashed.

.

The smell of coffee hit me before I was fully awake, pulling me out of a restless sleep. I blinked at the ceiling, my brain sluggish, piecing together the night before. Xinyu.

She’d shown up late, looking like she’d been dragged through hell, and crashed in my guest room. Figured she’d sleep till noon, giving me the morning to myself.

I rolled out of bed, my body stiff from a night of half-dreams about high school and her face flickering in and out of them. My sweatpants hung low, and as I shuffled toward the kitchen, I didn’t think much about the morning wood I was sporting. It was just me, my apartment, my coffee pot. Or so I thought. Xinyu was probably still passed out, and I’d have time to shake off the haze before facing her.

I turned the corner into the kitchen and froze.

Xinyu was there, standing by the counter, pouring coffee into two mugs. Her hair was damp, tied back in a messy bun, and she wore a loose sweatshirt and jeans that hugged her just enough to remind me why every guy in high school lost their mind over her.

She looked better than last night, like sleep had smoothed out some of the exhaustion. She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes catching mine. “Morning,” she said, voice soft but steady. “Found your coffee maker. Hope you don’t mind.”

I opened my mouth to answer, but then her gaze dropped. Right to my sweatpants. Right to the obvious bulge I hadn’t bothered to hide, assuming I was alone.

My face burned, and I shifted, ready to mutter some excuse and bolt. But Xinyu didn’t laugh or call me out. She didn’t even look away. Instead, her lips curled into a small, almost mischievous smile, and she set the coffee pot down with a deliberate slowness.

“Looks like you’re… up,” she said, her voice low, teasing, not a hint of embarrassment.

I choked on my own breath. “Uh, shit, I didn’t—sorry, I thought you were still—”

She didn’t let me finish. She stepped closer, closing the distance between us in a way that made my pulse spike. The kitchen felt smaller, the air thicker. Her eyes locked on mine, and there was something in them I hadn’t seen last night—something bold, curious, maybe even reckless. “No need to apologize,” she said, her voice dropping to a murmur. “I don’t mind.”

My brain short-circuited. This wasn’t the Xinyu I remembered, the untouchable goddess who barely noticed me in high school. This was… something else. Before I could process it, she was right in front of me, close enough that I could smell the faint citrus of her shampoo. Her hand brushed my arm, light at first, then firmer, and I felt my body tense, every nerve on edge.

“You know,” she said, her fingers trailing down to my waistband, “I didn’t get to thank you properly for letting me crash here.”

“Xinyu, what—” My voice cracked, half-protest, half-disbelief. But her hand was already there, grazing over the front of my sweatpants, and my breath hitched. She didn’t pull away. Instead, she pressed closer, her touch deliberate, teasing, as she traced the outline of my erection through the fabric.

“Shh,” she whispered, her lips curling into that same smile. “Just let me.”

I should’ve stopped her. I should’ve stepped back, laughed it off, anything to keep this from spiraling. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Her hand moved with a confidence that pinned me in place, and when she tugged me gently toward the living room, I followed like I was caught in a current.

She led me to the couch, her grip firm but not forceful, and I sank onto it, my mind a mess of want and guilt and sheer disbelief.

Xinyu knelt in front of me, her eyes never leaving mine. “You don’t have to do anything,” she said, her voice soft but commanding. “Just let me play.”

Her fingers hooked into my waistband, pulling my sweatpants down just enough to free me. The cool air hit me, but it was her touch that made me shudder—warm, steady, as she wrapped her hand around my cock.

She moved slowly at first, stroking with a rhythm that was both gentle and relentless, her thumb brushing over the tip in a way that made my hips twitch. I wanted to touch her, to run my hands through her hair, to feel the warmth of her skin, but my arms stayed frozen at my sides.

I was afraid to break whatever spell this was, afraid to cross a line I hadn’t even seen coming.

“Xinyu,” I managed, my voice hoarse. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” she cut me off, her tone firm but not harsh. “You’ve been good to me. Let me be good to you.”

Before I could argue, she leaned forward, her breath warm against me. Then her lips were on my cock, soft and deliberate, and my head fell back against the couch. The wet heat of her mouth was overwhelming, her tongue moving with a skill that made my thoughts scatter.

She took her time, alternating between slow, teasing licks and deeper, more purposeful movements, her hand still working what her mouth didn’t cover. My cock was slick now, glistening with her saliva, and every nerve in my body was screaming.

I wasn’t close—not yet—but I was hard, harder than I’d ever been, and the sight of her, the most gorgeous girl from my high school, on her knees for me, was almost too much.

I wanted to stop her, to say this was too fast, too insane, but the words wouldn’t come. I didn’t want her to stop. I let her keep going, let her control the pace, the pressure, everything.

She pulled back for a moment, her lips shiny, her eyes meeting mine again. “You’re holding back,” she said, almost accusingly, but there was a playful edge to it. “Relax.”

I couldn’t respond. She didn’t wait for me to. Her hand tightened slightly, stroking faster now, and she leaned in again, her mouth closing over me with a rhythm that felt like a challenge. My hips bucked involuntarily, and she made a soft sound—approval, maybe, or amusement. It drove me crazy.

My cock was wet, slick from her mouth. But then she slowed, pulling back just enough to keep me on the edge, her hand still moving lazily. She looked up at me, her expression unreadable but electric, like she was testing me, seeing how far I’d let this go.

I didn’t know what to say—how do you even start after something like that? But then she laughed, a soft, unexpected sound that broke the tension like a cracked window letting in air.

“What?” she said, catching my dazed look. “You’re staring like I just grew a second head.”

I blinked, scrambling for words. “I just… wasn’t expecting this when I said you could crash here.”

She grinned, leaning back on her heels, her hands resting casually on her knees. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t expecting to be up at the crack of dawn making coffee in your kitchen, so we’re even.”

I laughed, the sound shaky but real. It was surreal, joking around with her like this, like we were just two old classmates catching up—except she’d just had her mouth on me, and my sweatpants were still bunched around my thighs. “You’re full of surprises, you know that?”

She tilted her head, smirking. “Always have been. You just didn’t notice back in high school.”

“Oh, I noticed,” I said before I could stop myself. “Everyone noticed. You were, like… the Xinyu. Untouchable.”

Her smirk softened, and she looked away for a second, almost shy. “Untouchable, huh? Guess that’s why I had to make my own fun.” She paused, then added with a teasing lilt, “Let’s just say I’ve had plenty of practice keeping guys entertained.”

I raised an eyebrow, my curiosity overriding my embarrassment. “Practice?”

She shrugged, like it was no big deal. “Yeah. High school, college, after… guys come and go. I’ve tasted my fair share of… well, let’s call it experience.” She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “But I gotta say, yours? Top tier. Delicious, even.”

My face went hot, and I choked on a laugh. “Jesus, Xinyu. You can’t just say shit like that.”

“Why not?” she shot back, grinning. “It’s true. I’ve had my fun, but you’re something else. Consider it a compliment.”

I shook my head, still reeling. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” she said, her eyes glinting. “But you’re not complaining.”

She had me there. We lapsed into a comfortable silence, the kind that felt oddly natural despite everything. I shifted on the couch, pulling my sweatpants back up but still feeling exposed, vulnerable. She stayed where she was, cross-legged on the floor now.

“So,” I said, trying to steer us back to something resembling normal. “All those guys… no one stuck around?”

Her expression flickered, just for a second, before she shrugged again. “Nah. Never found a loyal one. They all want the fun, but when it comes to sticking through the messy stuff? Poof. Gone.” She streching her arms up, barely seen her pale, smooth stomach, her tone light but with an edge I couldn’t miss. “I’m used to it. People change, I change. No big deal.”

I nodded, not sure what to say. I’d never been great at reading between the lines, but there was something raw there, something she wasn’t saying. “Sounds lonely,” I said finally.

She looked at me, surprised, then smiled—a real smile, not the teasing one. “Maybe. But I’m fine. What about you? Got a girlfriend hiding in the closet I should know about?”

I snorted. “Me? Nah. Never been in a relationship.”

Her eyes widened, genuinely shocked. “Never? Like, never never?”

I rubbed the back of my neck, embarrassed. “Yeah. I mean, I’ve dated, kinda. But nothing serious. Work’s been my life, you know? Never had time for the real thing.”

She stared at me like I’d just admitted to being an alien. “That’s wild. You’re, what, 23? And you’ve never had a girlfriend? I thought you’d be fighting them off.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Not exactly. Guess I’m not as charming as you think.”

“Oh, you’re plenty charming,” she said, her voice dipping back into that playful tone. “You just don’t know it yet.”

The way she said it made my stomach flip, and I realized we were veering back into dangerous territory. She must’ve felt it too, because she crawled closer, her movements slow, deliberate. “Enough chit-chat,” she murmured, her eyes locking onto mine. “I’m not done with you.”

My breath caught as she settled between my legs again, her hands sliding up my thighs. “Xinyu, you don’t—”

“Shh,” she cut me off, her fingers brushing over my sweatpants, finding me still hard, still aching from before. “I said I’m not done.”

She tugged the waistband down again, her touch bolder now, and I groaned as her hand wrapped around me, stroking with that same steady rhythm.

Her eyes flicked up to mine, watching my reaction, and I could see it—she was enjoying this, not just the act but the control, the way she could unravel me with a look, a touch. And God... it was working. I was already so close, her earlier attention leaving me on a hair-trigger.

But then she did something I wasn’t ready for. She stood up, her hands moving to the hem of her sweatshirt. “You’re just gonna sit there and stare?” she teased, pulling the shirt over her head in one smooth motion.

My jaw dropped. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath, and her skin—smooth, flawless, glowing in the morning light—was everything I’d imagined in my dumb teenage fantasies.

Her jeans came next, sliding down her hips with a slow, deliberate grace that felt like a performance. She stepped out of them, standing there in just her underwear, and I couldn’t breathe.

This was Xinyu. Zhou Xinyu. The girl who’d haunted my dreams in high school, who’d been the untouchable star of every whispered locker room conversation. And now she was here, real, stripping in my living room like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I'm cooked enough” I managed, my voice rough.

She laughed, low and husky, and climbed onto the couch, straddling my thighs. “Good. That’s the plan.”

Her hands were back on my cock, stroking faster now, and I could see the flush creeping up her chest, her breathing heavier. She was turned on, too—her eyes half-lidded, her lips parted.

“You have no idea how much I’m enjoying this,” she murmured, leaning closer, her breath hot against my neck. “You’re so… responsive.”

I wanted to touch her, to run my hands over her skin, to pull her closer, but my arms stayed locked at my sides. She was Xinyu, the dream made real, and I was terrified of shattering it. She seemed to sense my hesitation, because she leaned in, her lips brushing my ear. “You can touch me, you know,” she whispered. “I won’t bite. Unless you want me to.”

I groaned, my restraint crumbling, and my hands finally moved, tentative at first, settling on her hips. Her skin was warm, soft, and the feel of her under my fingers sent a jolt through me. She hummed in approval, her strokes growing more urgent, and I could feel myself tipping closer to the edge.

She shifted, sliding off my lap to kneel again, and before I could protest, her mouth was back on my cock, hot and relentless. The wet heat, the way her tongue moved, the way she looked up at me—it was too much. My hands found her hair, not guiding but just holding on, and she made a soft, encouraging sound that pushed me even closer.

Xinyu’s lips left my cock with a soft pop, and she leaned back, her eyes glinting with that same reckless, teasing energy. My chest was heaving, my hands still tangled in her hair, and every inch of me was buzzing like a live wire.

I couldn’t think straight—hell, I could barely breathe—and she knew it. The way she smirked, the way her fingers trailed lazily up my thighs, told me she was enjoying every second of my unraveling.

She shifted, standing up from her kneel, and my eyes followed her every move. Her hands moved to the clasp of her bra, the last piece of clothing she had on besides her underwear, and my heart stuttered. With a slow, deliberate flick, she unhooked it and let it slide down her arms, tossing it aside like it was nothing.

I stared, my jaw slack, my brain short-circuiting.

Her breasts weren’t large, but they were perfect—firm, compact, sitting high on her chest with a slight curve that made my mouth go dry. Her nipples were small, dark, and already hardened, catching the light in a way that made it impossible to look away.

I’d never seen anything like this in person. Sure, I’d watched porn—grainy videos on my laptop late at night, the kind of thing you clear your browser history for—but this? This was real. This was Xinyu, standing in my living room, her body bared like a challenge.

She caught me staring and laughed, a low, throaty sound that snapped me out of my trance. “Huh! What’s the matter?” she said, tilting her head. “You’re 23 and you’ve never seen tits before? Poor baby.”

My face burned, but her words hit like gasoline on a fire. “I—I’ve seen…” I stammered, then stopped, realizing how pathetic I sounded. “Just… not like this.”

She stepped closer, her hands on her hips, her breasts swaying slightly with the movement. “Not like this, huh? Bet you can’t even make me satisfied.”

Her voice was a taunt, dripping with mock pity, but her eyes were blazing with something else—something daring me to prove her wrong.

The words lit something in me, a mix of embarrassment and raw, desperate want. I’d never been this close to anyone, never had a moment like this, and here is she. The girl who’d starred in every dumb teenage fantasy I’d ever had—practically daring me to touch her. My hesitation crumbled, replaced by a hunger I didn’t know I had.

I surged forward, my hands finding her waist, pulling her closer. She let out a surprised gasp, but it turned into a laugh as I ducked my head and pressed my mouth to her chest.

Her skin was warm, soft, and I latched onto her breast like a man starved, my lips closing around her nipple. I sucked hard, instinct taking over, and she moaned—a soft "Ahhh~", encouraging sound that made my cock twitch.

Her nipple was firm under my tongue, and I grazed it with my teeth, not hard enough to hurt but enough to make her gasp again.

“Well,” she breathed, her hands sliding into my hair, holding me there. “Not bad for a virgin.”

I barely registered the jab, too lost in the taste of her, the feel of her. I bit down lightly, then sucked again, harder, chasing that moan I’d heard.

There was no milk, obviously, but the act felt primal, like I was claiming something I had no right to. My other hand found her other breast, cupping it, marveling at how perfectly it fit in my palm. I kneaded it, my thumb brushing over her nipple, and she arched into me, her breathing ragged now.

“You’re eager,” she said, but her voice was shaky, her teasing edge fraying. “Keep going.”

I didn’t need her to tell me. I switched to her other breast, my mouth just as desperate, sucking and biting. Her skin was salty, warm, and every sound she made—every hitch in her breath, every soft curse—pushed me further.

My cock was throbbing, still slick from her earlier attention, and the ache was almost painful now, but I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to.

She tugged my hair, pulling my head back just enough to look at me. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips parted, and her eyes were dark with something that looked a lot like need.

“You’re gonna make me regret teasing you,” she said, but there was no regret in her voice—just heat.

“Then don’t tease,” I shot back, surprising myself with the edge in my tone. Her eyebrows lifted, and then she laughed, the sound vibrating through me.

“Fair enough,” she said, and before I could process it, she was pushing me back against the couch, climbing onto my lap. Her breasts were right there, inches from my face, and I couldn’t help myself.

I leaned in again, my mouth finding her nipple, sucking hard as my hands gripped her hips. She rocked against me, her underwear the only barrier between us, and the friction made me groan into her skin.

Xinyu’s moans were still echoing in my head, her breast warm under my lips, her body pressed so close I could feel her heartbeat. My hands gripped her hips, the friction driving me to the edge of sanity.

Then, abruptly, she pulled back. Her hands found my hair, tugging my head away from her chest with a firm but gentle grip.

I blinked up at her, dazed, my lips still tingling from her skin. Her face was flushed, her dark eyes wide and intense, but there was something else there—something urgent, almost vulnerable.

“Hey, listen,” she said, her voice rushed, like she was afraid the words would slip away if she didn’t get them out fast. “I came to this town to survey a new branch office, and… I’m going to be transferred to work in this town.”

I stared at her, my brain struggling to catch up. Her words hit like a splash of cold water, pulling me out of the haze of lust. “Wait, what?” I managed, my voice rough. “You’re… moving here?”

She nodded, her expression shifting—less teasing now, more raw, almost pleading. Her hands stayed in my hair, holding me there, like she needed me to really hear her. “Yeah. It’s happening soon. New branch, new gig. I’ll be here for… well, who knows how long.” She swallowed, her eyes searching mine.

“How about… we live together. Couple, roommate, or whatever. How’s that sound?”

The room spun. Live together? With Xinyu? My mind blanked, grappling with the weight of it. This wasn’t just a wild morning, a fantasy come to life. This was her asking for something real, something permanent. My hands tightened on her hips, grounding myself in the feel of her as I tried to process.

“Couple?” I said, my voice cracking on the word. “Relationship?”

She leaned closer, her forehead almost touching mine, her breath warm against my lips. “Fuck me then,” she said, her voice low and fierce, no trace of hesitation. “We’re doing this relationship.”

My heart slammed against my ribs. Relationship. With Xinyu. The girl who’d been untouchable, the dream I’d buried years ago. The girl who was sitting in my lap, half-naked, her body pressed against mine, offering me… everything. I searched her eyes, looking for a catch, a joke, but all I saw was that same raw need, that spark of something I couldn’t name.

I nodded, the motion small but certain. “Okay,” I said, my voice steadier now.

Her lips crashed into mine, a kiss that was all heat and hunger, sealing the deal before I could second-guess myself. It wasn’t gentle—her teeth grazed my lip, her hands tugged my hair harder, and I kissed her back with the same desperation, like I was trying to pour every unspoken fantasy into it.

Her breasts pressed against my chest, firm and warm, and I groaned into her mouth as she ground against me, her underwear damp now, the tension between us spiking back to unbearable.

She pulled back just enough to catch her breath, her lips swollen, her eyes blazing. “Good,” she whispered, her voice husky. “Because I’m not letting you go now.”

Her hands slid down my chest, nails scraping lightly, and she shifted in my lap, positioning herself so the thin fabric of her underwear rubbed directly against my cock. I hissed, the sensation almost too much, and she smirked, clearly enjoying my reaction. “You’re mine now,” she said, the words half-tease, half-promise, and I didn’t know whether to laugh or lose myself in her all over again.

Instead, I kissed her again, my hands roaming her back, tracing the curve of her spine, the smooth skin I’d only dared to imagine touching. She arched into me, her nipples brushing my chest, and the reality of it hit me again—this was happening.

She pulled back, her breath ragged, her eyes dark and glinting with that mix of mischief and need. “You’re shaking,” she said, her voice low, a teasing lilt curling the edges. She brushed her fingers down my chest, stopping just above my waistband, where my cock was still hard, aching from her earlier attention.

I swallowed, my throat tight. “Yeah, well… this is a lot.”

She tilted her head, studying me, and then her lips quirked into a grin. “Wait a second,” she said, her tone shifting to something almost incredulous. “Right, you’ve never done this before, have you?”

My face burned, and I looked away, wishing I could sink into the couch. “I… no,” I admitted, the words feeling like a confession. “Never.”

Xinyu giggled—a soft, genuine sound that caught me off guard. It wasn’t mocking, just… delighted, like she’d stumbled onto a secret she couldn’t believe. “Bro,” she said, leaning back, her hands still resting on my thighs. “Still virgin? At 23?"

I groaned, covering my face with one hand. “Don’t make this weird, okay?”

“It’s not weird!” she said, still laughing, but she reached for my hand, pulling it away so she could meet my eyes. “It’s cute. And honestly? It's my first time doing with virgin, kinda hot tho” Her grin turned wicked, and she leaned closer, her voice dropping. “I get to be your first. That’s a flex.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, the tension in my chest easing just a fraction. “You’re ridiculous.”

“So cute, my boy” she shot back, her fingers brushing my cheek. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”

Before I could respond, she slid off my lap and reached for her discarded jeans, fishing something out of the pocket.

She held up a small foil packet—a condom—and waved it with a smirk. “Condom this time,” she said, her tone practical but playful. “You don’t have enough experience to pull out, do you?”

I blinked, caught between embarrassment and amusement. “Uh… probably not.”

“Smart boy,” she said, tossing the packet onto the couch beside me. “We’ll get you there eventually, but let’s not risk it for your first rodeo.”

She climbed back onto my lap, straddling me, and the sight of her—bare except for her underwear, her breasts still flushed from my earlier attention—made my head spin.

My hands found her hips again, instinctive now, and she leaned in, kissing me slower this time, softer, like she was easing me into it. “Just follow my lead,” she murmured against my lips.

Her hands moved to my sweatpants, tugging them down completely this time, and I lifted my hips to help, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst.

She reached for the condom, tearing the packet open with her teeth—a move that shouldn’t have been as hot as it was—and rolled it onto me with a practiced ease that made my breath hitch. Her fingers were steady, confident, and the feel of her touching me, even through the latex, was enough to make my vision blur.

“Relax,” she said, sensing my tension. She kissed me again, her tongue teasing mine, and then she shifted, sliding her underwear down her thighs and kicking them off.

I caught a glimpse of her—bare, glistening pussy, ready—and my mouth went dry. This was happening. My first time. With Xinyu.

She positioned herself over me, one hand on my shoulder for balance, the other guiding me as she lowered herself slowly.

I gasped as I felt her, warm and tight, enveloping me inch by inch. She let out a soft moan, her nails digging into my shoulder, and I gripped her hips harder, overwhelmed by the sensation. It was… indescribable. Hot, intense, like every nerve in my body was concentrated on where we were joined.

“Fuck,” I breathed, my head falling back against the couch.

Xinyu laughed softly, her voice shaky with pleasure. “Yeah, that’s the idea.” She started moving, slow at first, giving me time to adjust, her hips rolling in a rhythm that made my toes curl. “You okay?”

I nodded, barely able to form words. “Yeah… holy shit, yeah.”

She grinned, leaning down to kiss me as she picked up the pace, her movements more confident now, more demanding. I tried to match her, thrusting up to meet her, but I was clumsy, inexperienced, and she noticed. “Easy,” she whispered, her hands framing my face. “Just let me drive for now.”

I did surrendering to her, letting her set the rhythm. Her moans grew louder, her breaths sharper, and the sound of her—the sight of her, her breasts bouncing slightly, her skin flushed—pushed me closer to the edge. I wanted to last, wanted to make this good for her, but it was too much, too fast.

“Xinyu,” I gasped, my hands tightening on her hips. “I don’t… I don’t think I can—”

“It’s okay,” she said, her voice soft but urgent. “First time’s supposed to be messy. Just let go.”

And I did. With a groan, I came, the pleasure crashing over me like a wave, my vision whiting out for a second. Xinyu kept moving, slower now, riding me through it, and when I finally opened my eyes, she was watching me, a satisfied smile on her lips.

“Not bad,” she said, leaning down to kiss me. “We’ll work on stamina next time.”

I laughed, breathless, still reeling. “Next time?”

“Oh, yeah,” she said, climbing off me and grabbing her underwear. “You’re stuck with me now, remember? Couple, roommate, whatever.” She winked, tossing me my sweatpants. “Get used to it.”

My body was still buzzing from what had just happened—my first time, with her, of all people. My head was a mess of disbelief, gratitude, and something heavier, something that felt like the start of a life I hadn’t dared to imagine.

Xinyu, now officially my… girlfriend? Roommate? Whatever we were, she was here, real, and the way she looked at me made my pulse race all over again.

She slid off my lap, her movements graceful despite the raw intensity of the moment. My sweatpants were still bunched around my thighs, my cock softening but still sensitive from the condom and the overwhelming pleasure.

Xinyu reached down, her fingers deft as she carefully removed the condom, holding it up with a smirk that was equal parts playful and wicked. She brought it closer, giving it a quick sniff, and her eyes sparkled with mischief.

“Damn,” she said, her voice low and teasing. “Fresh out of a virgin. Smells sweet.”

I choked on a laugh, my face burning. “Xinyu, what the hell?”

She grinned, tying off the condom and tossing it into the nearby trash can with a casual flick. “What? I’m just appreciating the moment. You should be proud. Not everyone gets to pop their cherry with me.”

I groaned, rubbing my face, but her laughter was infectious, easing the embarrassment.

She stood up, stretching her arms above her head, her sweatshirt still off, her breasts catching the light in a way that made it hard to focus on anything else.

But then she turned to me, her expression shifting from playful to something more direct, more needy. She is stepping closer, “I didn’t cum yet. Can you start eating me then?”

I blinked, my brain lagging. “Eating… what now?”

Xinyu burst out laughing, doubling over, her hands on her knees. “Oh my god,” she gasped between giggles. “My pussy, you idiot.”

My face went from warm to scorching. “Oh. Right. Uh…” I trailed off, my inexperience laid bare. I’d seen stuff in porn, sure, but the idea of actually doing it—especially with her—felt like stepping off a cliff. “I’ve never… you know.”

“I know,” she said, her laughter softening into a smile. She stepped closer, her hands resting on my shoulders, her eyes locking onto mine. “It’s okay. I’ll show you. Just… follow my lead, like before.”

She moved to the couch, sitting back and spreading her legs wide, her underwear long gone from earlier. My breath caught as I saw her—her pussy glistening, still wet from our earlier round, pink and inviting, framed by the soft curves of her thighs. She looked like something out of a fantasy, but this was no dream. This was Xinyu, real and raw, waiting for me to take the next step.

“C’mere,” she said, her voice gentle but firm, patting the space between her legs.

I swallowed hard, my heart thudding, and slid off the couch, kneeling in front of her like she’d done for me earlier. The reversal wasn’t lost on me, and it made my stomach flip with nerves and anticipation.

“Relax,” she said, reaching down to brush her fingers through my hair. “It’s not rocket science. Just… explore. Use your tongue, your lips. I’ll tell you what feels good.”

I nodded, my mouth dry, and leaned in, my hands resting tentatively on her thighs. Her skin was warm, soft, and the scent of her—musky, sweet—hit me like a wave.

I hesitated for a second, my inexperience screaming at me to run, but then I remembered her moans, her confidence, the way she’d guided me through everything so far. I could do this. For her.

I pressed a kiss to her inner thigh, testing the waters, and she hummed in approval. Emboldened, I moved closer, my lips brushing against her folds, tentative at first.

She was slick, warm, and the first touch of my tongue made her sigh, her fingers tightening in my hair. “Yeah, like that,” she murmured, her voice a mix of encouragement and pleasure. “Keep going.”

I did, growing bolder, my tongue exploring her, tasting her, trying to find a rhythm. She was responsive, her hips shifting slightly, her breaths turning into soft moans as I focused on the sensitive bud at the top.

“There,” she gasped, her hand guiding me. “Right there. Damn, you’re a quick learner.”

Her praise lit something in me, and I doubled down, licking and sucking with more confidence, my hands gripping her thighs to steady myself. Her moans grew louder, her body tensing, and I could feel her getting closer, her pleasure building in a way that made my own arousal flare again, even after everything.

“Don’t stop,” she panted, her voice urgent now, her hips grinding against my mouth. “Fuck, just like that.”

I didn’t, giving her everything I had, my tongue working in tandem with her movements. Her moans turned into a sharp cry, her body shuddering as she came, her fingers pulling my hair hard enough to sting. I kept going, softer now, riding out her climax until she tugged me up, her chest heaving, her eyes glassy with satisfaction.

“Goddamn,” she said, catching her breath, a lazy smile spreading across her face. “For a first-timer, you’re not half bad.”

I wiped my mouth, my face flushed, my heart still racing. “Thanks, I guess?”

She laughed, pulling me up to sit beside her on the couch. “You’re welcome. We’ll make a pro out of you yet.” She leaned in, kissing me deeply, and I could taste herself on her lips, a reminder of what we’d just done.

She grinned, grabbing her coffee from the counter and taking a sip, completely unbothered by her nakedness. “Stick with me, and you’ll have a lot more mornings like this.”

I believed her. As she leaned against me, her warmth seeping into my side, I knew this was just the beginning—of us, of whatever wild, impossible thing we were building. And I was already all in.

She glanced at her phone, her expression shifting from lazy contentment to something more focused. “Shit,” she muttered, setting her mug down. “I gotta get moving. Work’s not gonna wait.”

I blinked, the mention of work pulling me back to reality. “Right. Your… survey thing?”

“Yeah,” she said, standing and stretching, her sweatshirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of her stomach. “Scouting locations for the new branch. Meetings, site visits, the whole deal. Gotta look professional instead of…” She gestured to herself, grinning. “Well, this.”

I laughed, though part of me was still stuck on the image of her from minutes ago—naked, moaning, guiding my mouth. “You pull off ‘this’ pretty well, though.”

She smirked, leaning down to kiss me, quick but lingering. “Flatterer. You’re not so bad yourself.” The word was a tease, but her tone was warm, affectionate. She straightened, grabbing her jeans and underwear from the floor. “Gimme ten minutes to clean up, and I’m out.”

.

Xinyu emerged from the bathroom, looking like a different person. Her hair was tied back neatly, her jeans and sweatshirt replaced by a crisp blouse and tailored pants, her backpack slung over one shoulder. She’d even put on light makeup, her lips glossy, her eyes sharp. She looked every bit the professional, but I could still see the Xinyu from earlier—the one who’d unraveled me without breaking a sweat.

“Wow,” I said, closing my laptop. “You clean up nice.”

She grinned, adjusting her bag. “Gotta fake it till I make it. You’re not looking too bad yourself.”

I snorted, glancing down at my rumpled sweatpants. “Yeah, I’ll get there. Got a meeting later, so I’ll at least put on a real shirt.”

“Good boy,” she teased, grabbing her coffee mug and rinsing it in the sink. “Wouldn’t want you scaring your clients with that post-sex glow.”

My face heated, but I laughed. “You’re the worst.”

She grinned and checked her phone again, her expression turning serious. “Okay, I’m really late. I’ll text you when I’m done, alright? Might need another night to crash if my hotel booking falls through. That cool?”

My heart skipped at the thought of her staying again. “Yeah, of course. Spare room’s yours. Or, you know…” I trailed off, gesturing vaguely to the couch, to us, to whatever this was.

She raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh, I know. We’ll see how the day goes, babe” She crossed the room, leaning down to kiss me again, this one slower, her hand cupping my cheek. “Thanks for… everything. Morning was fun.”

I couldn't say another word, "Yeah... babe"

She laughed, heading for the door. “You're so cute. See you later. Don’t work too hard.”

And then she was gone, the door clicking shut behind her. The apartment felt too quiet, like it was holding its breath without her. I sat there for a minute, staring at the empty space where she’d been, then shook my head and opened my laptop again. Work. Right. I had to focus.

=======================

I kept checking my phone, half-expecting a text, but nothing came until late afternoon.

“Hey, still alive?” her message read, with a selfie of her standing in front of a construction site, her hard hat tilted playfully. “Work’s a grind, but I’m done soon. Hotel’s a mess—mind if I crash again?”

I grinned, typing back. “Spare room’s ready"

I set the phone down, my stomach flipping. Another night with Xinyu. Maybe more than one, if she was moving here. The thought was overwhelming, but I couldn’t stop smiling. I turned back to my work, the code suddenly less daunting, the day brighter than it had any right to be. Whatever this was—couple, roommates, something else—it was ours, and I was ready for it.

(to be continued?)

[jjjjisun-deactivated20260131]

My Playmate, My Sister (Part 3)

Hanni X Irene X Male Reader | 14429 words

TW: Incest

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Part 3 of My Playmate, My Sister

Buy me a Ko-Fi.

—

Hanni was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen; more than that, she was smoking hot. Her adorable facial features, soft blonde hair, fantastic personality, and many other attributes made her beautiful. Her breath-taking body, her breasts, that sexy way she walked, the way she teased me, that's what made her hot.

Hanni had returned from "school" only a few weeks before, and before she did, she had been, first and foremost, my sister. Now, that hadn't changed; we still shared that same love for each other, and I felt I needed to protect her as I always had. However, after the last two nights, we shared, sharing each other, and things deepened between us, and we agreed it was for the better. Hanni had always been a great sister, and we had always been very open with each other; talking about our romantic interests and often touching lightly upon the involved sexual activity was rarely out of the question. But this was a new type of openness; she was my sister and a fantastic lover.

I had seen Hanni on the cover of Playboy, her first shoot with them happening to catch my glance as I walked through a local convenience store. I had seen her in gallery upon gallery of subsequent photo shoots for the magazine, completely naked and sprawled out for me to see. I knew it wasn't just for me, and so did Playboy because they were planning on making her Playmate of the Year for all the success her nakedness had brought them. But when Hanni got home, what I saw was just for me; her sexiness and the perfection she'd brought to the pages of the world-famous magazine was within my grasp. Something clicked between the two of us, and whether it was the way I could not take my eyes off of her or the security and comfort she found in being in her brother's arms, I do not know. However, I know one thing now: I am the luckiest brother in the world.

It isn't all so romantic; having the cute little playmate around me and constantly recalling the feeling of being inside her and the desire to do so again is far from that. But can I be blamed? I mean, it's like everything she does plays right into my desire for her. From how she squeezes my leg as she lifts herself out of the car to the bouncy strut she pulls off as she crosses the causeway onto the boat... like I said, I couldn't take my eyes off her. As we made our way to the sailboat we'd agreed to take a trip on when our parents interrupted what was going to be a sex-filled week for the both of us, even the traveling outfit she wore had me at half-mast all day long. As I watched her checking out the boat from top to bottom, squealing at its more luxurious features, I took her in greedily.

That first day, she wore jean shorts that could have been painted on. Her cute butt taunted me as she leaned over the side rail and looked down at the cool blue water. If our parents and their friends hadn't been right there, I would have come up behind her and let us both feel my hips against hers as I pinned her against the rail. Above the shorts was a cropped, loose, and transparent top that hung over one shoulder at an angle, displaying the soft skin of her shoulder and neck and, of course, the sexy, muscular midsection that I couldn't get enough of. Under the top was a pink bikini, or maybe it was a bra... either way, it pushed her breasts up just so and even though I'd held them naked and complete in my hands, I felt like I'd never seen them before hidden underneath layers of clothing I just wanted to tear off.

She knew it too. Hanni smiled at me with every chance she got, and even wiggled her butt at me when she knew the others weren't looking. A few times, she'd catch my eye and then reach down to adjust her top, shaking her beautiful tits in place and pushing them up further; I had to sit down and catch my breath when she did that. She spent the few hours we took preparing the boat as an opportunity to drive me crazy over her. By the time we finally cast off and were leaving the harbor it was all I could do not to grab her tiny frame in my arm and drag her downstairs to fuck her silly for all the trouble she'd put me through.

But we finally cast off and got out to sea, and things calmed down a bit. We sat on soft, colorful cushions in the stern of the boat with the sail billowing above us and a cool breeze brushing back the wisps of hair that had fallen from behind Hanni's ear. Hanni draped my arm over her innocently, and we chatted about everything under the sun with the adults. When it came to Hanni's college life, I had to play it extremely cool, knowing that she hadn't told anyone from home about her work with Playboy. But we made it through and chatted as the luxurious sailboat cut through the ocean waves and out further and further until land was only a dot on the horizon.

Hanni was hands-down the hottest female under the Pacific sun that day if you asked me, but that wasn't really a fair contest, and another woman aboard was giving her some competition. The man my parents had been invited aboard was an old work friend of my dad's and his new wife. My dad and his friend Jinwoo were successful partners at a law firm and had done very well for themselves, including the women they had married. My parents were getting older, though still in great shape. Jinwoo was much the same: a good-looking guy with a kind disposition and salt-and-pepper gray hair that, combined with the apparent wealth, had brought him Irene. Irene seemed to be a great wife for him, loving and trustworthy, but obviously, that wasn't the only reason he'd chosen her for the long haul.

Irene was young, probably only in her early thirties, and didn't even look that. She had long, wavy black hair. Jinwoo was proud of marrying her, and I'd heard him boasting about his sex life with the gorgeous brunette to my dad on more than one occasion - sure, he was a generous guy, but as money often does to people, he was also kind of a tool. Still, I thought 'good for him' as I saw him not-so-innocently holding his wife against him in their place across from me. I might have even found myself desiring her if I didn't have the soft skin of my sister pressed against my shirtless torso, reminding me that there was nothing more desirable than her. When Jinwoo playfully grabbed at Irene's thigh, I glanced over at Hanni, and when our eyes met, I knew their antics were turning her on.

Irene stood up at one point (I couldn't help but notice that she had a great body as I saw her stretch in front of us) and invited Hanni to help her get drinks:

"Hey girlfriend, want to help me throw some margaritas together for everybody?"

In her usually bubbly tone, Hanni responded, "Sure, Irene, lead the way."

As they headed below deck I watched both of their bikini covered asses swish back and forth on their way to the hatch and then disappear. When they returned, I was blessed with the view of their front. Irene was not as alluring to me as Hanni, but she was just right in her sexy way. Hanni must have caught me checking out Irene because she gave me a squinty, knowing look as she sat down and handed me the slushy drink. We chatted some more, and Hanni kept up her antics. She scooted closer into me and licked her lips when I looked at her; she was unbearable.

By the time Irene suggested that we drop anchor and go for a swim as the sun set, I was completely stiff and struggling to position my penis so that it didn't bare itself for anyone to see. Hanni knew of course, and even wrapped as much of her hand around it as she could when we were the last ones on deck before she hopped in the water. I was going to teach her a lesson that night for sure.

We waded in the water, with more back-and-forth chatter and a floating tray of drinks between us. Everyone stayed pretty warm in the cool water, with all the alcohol being passed around. Hardly anyone noticed when Hanni challenged me to a race and took off before I could say yes, heading for the front of the boat. I caught up to her and grabbed her ankle, pulling her tiny frame back and feeling it brush along as I passed her.

She screamed, "Cheater!" as I swam to the front of the boat and made contact with it before she could. I looked at her with boastful pride as she paddled the rest of the distance to me, defeated. I grabbed her hand and helped her float next to me; she was tired from the swim.

"That's not fair," Hanni complained.

"I'll tell you what's not fair..."

Now, we were concealed from the view of our parents, Irene and Jinwoo, at the front of the boat. I could still hear them laughing and bantering as I lifted Hanni's hands over her head to a bar in the railing. She held them there, lifted ever so slightly out of the water.

"What's not fair is all the teasing you've been doing all day and the fact that I could do nothing about it. That's not fair."

She was stretched out in front of me, and her legs wrapped around me, helping me to float there and pulling me closer to her. So much skin...so much of her flawless body was on display for me, and her beautiful stomach, the subtle protrusion of her ribcage from her lifted arms...I was in heaven.

"What will you do about it, bro?" she asked with raised eyebrows.

I took both hands and planted them firmly on either side of her waist, sending them upwards and hearing her breathe out sexily in appreciation. It was answer enough for her and she approved further when I pushed the tip of my cock against her mound. Even covered in hers and my bathing suits, it was apparent that her head was indenting lightly into her, and if it wasn't, then her involuntary gasp proved it.

"Oh God... this is so naughty with them right over there....just like when you..." I thrust again "Ooohh Oppa..... just like when you fucked me in the car last night."

"Just like I'm going to tonight..." I told her, holding my hands over her breasts and massaging them.

"Mmmm, how about right now?" she tested.

I looked into her eyes, searching to see whether she was serious. I mean, our little secret fuck in the car was risky in itself, but only 30 feet away in broad daylight were four people that could catch us and make for a very awkward sailing trip. She looked serious.

"I don't know about that..." I said.

I knew we were taking too many risks; there was so much to lose, and I didn't think I could stand having Hanni any way other than she was to me now. Hanni knew too, but she seemed too entranced in our foreplay to give it much thought. It may have been risky, but her body just felt terrific in my greedy hands, and Hanni was more than loving the attention. I kept repeating the pressure between her pussy lips and Hanni cooed a few times at the stimulation of her thin bottoms grinding against her clit. My resolve was chipping away by the second...

I heard one of the adults laugh loudly at a joke on the other side of the boat, and it caught Hanni's attention. As she looked in their direction, I promptly took advantage of her distraction and swiped simultaneously at the strings behind her neck and torso. Hanni scoffed and tried to reach for her sui,t but I was too fast. I locked one hand around the fingers of her left hand, holding it immutably against the rail above. The other pulled her top away so fast she couldn't even come close to grabbing it back with her right hand.

"You are ridiculous," she said, looking at me sideways, but I was hardly paying attention.

With her hand over her head her tits hung spectacularly, glistening from the water and high on her chest. I could see her muscles stretching to hold her up, from her flat tummy that disappeared into the water below up to her neck. Dear God, I'll never see a more beautiful sight than that in my entire life.

"Like what you see? Mmmm..." she sighed when I took her hanging breast into my hand and caressed it gently with the tips of my fingers. My fingernails grazed the skin, and then I just held her breast in my hand, feeling her goose bumps against my palm with my fingers on her perky pink nipple. I'd never felt anything so amazing before I swore to myself, and this wasn't the first time I'd had my hands wrapped around her perfect chest. Hanni just kept getting better and better, and I wanted to make love to her right there with our parents and their friends so dangerously close.

"Jesus Hanni, I swear you're the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen."

"Awww... you're so sweet ...mmmhh... And just think, I'm all yours..." she whispered, positively glowing from my compliment. She probably knew how I felt before I'd said it; my cock had grown even more enormous and complicated as I continued to prod at her covered slit with it gently. Hanni maneuvered her free hand so that her palm lay against my strong abs, and then she pushed it downward and painfully slowly. Under the waistband of my shorts, it went down further...until only her thumb and forefinger were touching the base of my stiff shaft.

I cringed; the feeling of her tiny hand on my steel-hard rod was phenomenal. I brought my head down to her chest, holding one of her soft breasts up and taking her nipple into my lips.

"Oooh, be careful! I'm really sensitive there," she shrieked. I backed off only slightly, trailing my tongue around the tiny areola before circling the erect little nub. Hanni was breathing harder, and it made me happy for her to enjoy my worship of her chest. As I finally took the whole nipple into my mouth and then sucked at it gently, Hanni wrapped around as much of my cock as she could get her hand on in one swift motion.

"I'm sensitive there too, ahhhh," I mocked. As I said it, Hanni firmly stroked up and down on my shaft, wrapping her palm around my head before she returned her encircling fingers to my base once again. We were like teenagers; neither of us could get enough of each other fast enough as we'd been able to display painfully little affection all day. I kept sucking at erect nipple, and more aggressively now. Eventually, I began pinching it between my front teeth just enough to get her calling my name between deep breaths:

"... oh, Oppa..... If you keep doing that... ugh... I think I might..."

I was still grinding the tip of my cock into the depression in her bottoms that my efforts were making. My tip was now just entering her, impeded by our clothing but pleasing due to the cool water around us. She ensured I was lined up just right as she slid her hand up and down my prodding staff. She was loving it and as her panting picked up and I was stimulating both her nipples and clit I knew that I'd send her into climax soon. Hell, a few minutes more, and I would probably release a gallon of sperm into the water between us.

"gotta be.... OOohhhhH..... quiet," she was tryin tog talk herself into keeping silent but wasn't succeeding all that well. Her attention to my cock faltered but I couldn't have cared less; the gorgeous little playmate's orgasm was all I was focused on and I felt I owed it to her to...

"Y/N....... Hanni!" he sounded concerned. My dad was calling out our names from the other side of the boat. I hadn't even considered that they would worry about us after we had swum off and not returned.

"Yeah, Dad?" I answered, my head settled just an inch or less inside my sister; she was still heaving and didn't stop her attempts to keep my cock massaging her pussy.

"Where's Hanni?" He was yelling over the boat.

"I'm here, Daddy!" I was honestly surprised to hear her pull it together enough to respond.

"What are you guys doing? I don't want you drowning on my watch.

"We were just...mmmh," she was still so aroused and had only slightly come down. "Playing daddy... jeez we're not kids anymore." She squeezed my shaft as she said it.

"Alright, well, come on back over. We've got margaritas waiting for you!" He had no idea.

Hanni slumped into my arms, and I held us up with a hand still gripping the boat. She managed a few more frustrated thrusts against me before she gave in and looked into my eyes. They were so beautiful, even with disappointment for being held back and having been so close. A deep and mesmerizing combination of cool grey and lively green, they peered into me, and I was lost in her. Hanni's naked chest felt terrific against my chest and shoulders, bringing me out of my haze. We cuddled for a few too-short moments while Hanni accepted that I couldn't give her what she wanted unless we wanted to be found out.

She turned around, and I helped her wrap the tiny bikini top back around her, happily pausing to make sure the cups were supporting her breasts in the right way. My hands took their last chance to hold on to the pliable flesh before tying her strings and taking her back to the water. She shot me a glance that told me she knew exactly what I was after and then headed toward our parents. Even how she swam back, cutting through the water like a true athlete, added to her complete and utter prowess and perfection.

We returned to the circle and couldn't risk looking too longingly at each other, though we desperately wanted to—and a lot more than that. Nobody was the wiser, I comfortably assured myself. We chatted until the sun was only a glowing memory beneath the horizon and then climbed back on the deck. Hanni grabbed my arm and pulled me back from the group.

"Did you see Irene?" Her eyes were wide.

I thought I had been caught checking out the 30-something-year-old hottie, so I tried to deny it: "What... who... Oh her, yeah, she seems nice."

"No, silly," Hanni rolled her eyes. I know she's hot; I wouldn't blame you if you thought so. I mean, did you see the way she was looking at us?"

"No, I have no idea what you're talking about," I told her, concerned.

"She was staring at me pretty strangely. I think she knows what's up."

"No way, how could she? We were quiet, and it's not like we gave ourselves away before then..."

Just then, like clockwork, Irene popped her head around the corner. We were leaned over the edge of the boat inconspicuously, so it didn't make me nervous that she was seeing us together.

"Hey guys, so you want a burger or a brat?" she asked.

We both told her what we wanted and then relaxed a bit, she was being pretty normal for someone Hanni had just suspected of knowing I'd had my cock rubbing against my sister's pussy.

"Oh, and by the way, honey," she said quieter now, her grin speaking volumes as she said, "I think your top is inside out."

Hanni and I looked down simultaneously, and Irene disappeared around the corner. It wouldn't jump out at you if you weren't looking for it, but it was obvious. Hanni's suit was inside out, and Irene had noticed it after we returned from our little disappearance, hence the weird looks to Hanni.

"Oh god, do you think mom and dad noticed?" Hanni asked with fear in her eyes.

"No way. We got out of the water last, and they would have definitely said something. Irene must have seen it when we were swimming back. Mom and Dad were turned away from us then." I tried to comfort her, but it wasn't really working.

"Do you think she'll tell?" Hanni was only slightly less worried.

"No, she seems too cool to go making accusations like that." I retorted

"That's true, and I swear she was trying to coax something out of me when she told me she thought you were hot earlier."

I smiled widely, and my heart jumped when she said that. It felt pretty good that a beautiful woman like Irene thought I was handsome or 'hot,' as Hanni had said.

"Oh, you're unbelievable," Hanni slapped my arm. "I guess you can have her for the rest of this trip the," she said as she turned away from me.

"Oh, come on, Hanni!" I pulled at her sid,e but she didn't lean into me like she usually did. "She's got nothing on you. I can't walk around this boat without a huge bulge in my shorts with you in that bikini. It's torture not being able to show you and tell you every second how attracted to you I am!"

She looked over her shoulder at me, pouting but clearly affected by my compliment. I slipped my hand around her waist and felt the band of her bikini tickle my fingertips as they brushed over her hipbones. My hand rested on her tummy, only briefly with the knowledge of our shipmates only feet away. Hanni rotated in my grasp, my fingers trailing around her as she turned face to face with me and pushed in close. She glanced toward the direction of our parents, scanning to see if we were in sight of them. When she was satisfied nobody was watching, she stood up on her toes, the soles of her feet stretching and her back arching to bring her to the right height she planted a soft kiss on my lips. She lingered for only a second or two with her eyes looking right at the lips she'd just kissed, and then I watched my sister walk off around the corner and sit down like nothing had happened.

I followed a moment later (after the bulge in my trunks had settled to a manageable level) and sat down across from her. The last rays of sun skimmed over her long legs, crossed sexily and hanging down toward the wooden deck. I can hardly remember what we talked about now for the hour or so we sat around eating and chatting, Hanni's kiss and the many events of the day had me swimming in my own thoughts and fantasies. I imagined that nobody was there, and I crossed the gap between me and my little playmate sister, pinning her against the plush white cushions and ripping off her clothes.

The only thing to distract me was the delicious food...that and the way Irene had handed it off to me. I had been keeping an eye on her as she fidgeted around in front of the hot grill, scratching her leg with a raised foot here and tossing her hair around. She may have been married but she had not lost a hint of her youth and verve. Her swaying about while preparing our dinner already had me at alert, so when I saw her reach down and obviously fluff her tits in her striped bikini I was finding myself growing stiff already. Then she approached me with a plate of food and came closer than I expected; I was frozen to her. She leaned in, handing me the plate and lingering, bent over at the waist and setting it down on the table beside me. Her breasts were hanging magnificently, the flesh struggling against her top. Just before she stood up she caught my gaze and I knew that she'd seen what I was looking at. I'd have been mortified at being caught red-handed if the look in her eyes and upon her lips wasn't one of subtle mischief.

When the sun had gone all the way down, Jinwoo showed us the beautiful television screen that ascended from a hidden panel in the stern of the boat behind the mini-bar. The seats on the deck were also perfectly set up for viewing the movie he was about to put on: some romantic comedy to please the ladies on their first night aboard. Jinwoo opened up one of the cabinets and pulled out some thick, woven blankets, tossing one each to the couples and apologizing to Hanni and I that he didn't have one for each of us.

"They can share honey," Irene interjected quickly, "right guys?"

"Yeah it's no problem, sir, thanks!" Hanni said happily and tossed the blanket over both of us.

"Please Hanni, call me Jinwoo, Mr. makes me feel like my dad," Jinwoo joked while Hanni settled down and spread the blanket out over us.

The sun was all the way down now, and a light breeze ruffled Hanni's hair gently with her head laid upon my shoulder. She giggled when a few strands caught in my mouth and I spit them back out; I nudged her head to get her back. There was only the sound of the movie and the ocean breeze gently clanging a jib or a hook somewhere on deck. It was a beautiful night to be cozied up with my secret playmate, both the most gorgeous girl I'd ever made love to and my very own sister.

I was still half-mast myself from all of Irene's antics and the desire for my sister I'd been unable to act out all day. As I worked my hand to the inside of Hanni's thigh she wasted no time in finding my hardness through the outside of my shorts.

"Hmmmm....." she whispered in my ear, "you really like this movie huh...?"

"Oh Hanni...." I whispered back as Hanni ran her hand over the outline of my shaft and head.

She then began untying my strings, and the anticipation nearly killed me as I felt her working the laces through the holes to allow her easier access. When she'd finally got it she stopped once more to hold my cock through the fabric. All the while her efforts were concealed by the blanket over us. I looked around, nervous. 'God this is dangerous,' I thought, but I was in no state to object. By the time Hanni finally decided to free me from my fabric confines, I was so hard I thought I was going to rip my suit.

She traced her fingers from the bottom of my pole to the top in one, long stroke; her fingers were barely making contact. When she reached the top she equally slowly encircled me with her whole hand and then pushed it downward in one smooth stroke. It was unbelievable, something told me I couldn't even hope to do better myself. Hanni's nimble fingers, cooler than my red-hot member, felt glorious holding me like they were. I looked down to Hanni who's head was still nestled against me. She turned and planted a little kiss on my shoulder before looking back to the television to keep up our pretended innocence.

The pleasure was building and Hanni began to stroke me more hastily. I struggled to keep a straight face in case my parents were to turn around and look our way. They were dozing off together; my worries about them abated. I then turned my gaze toward Irene and Jinwoo. Jinwoo looked to be distracted with his phone and...............Irene was staring right at us.

Hanni was pumping me quickly now, and a close observer would see the blanket shivering atop us. Irene was a close observer; she didn't take her eyes off us as I neared orgasm. I knew I should tell Hanni that we were being watched....I knew....oh God, her hand was just stroking me so amazingly. Hanni had no idea that Irene could see her jerking her brother's cock under the blanket, and I was too consumed with her touch to risking jeopardizing it. I couldn't....I couldn't let this end before Hanni finished me off. Hanni was grinning as she looked directly toward the screen; she loved how she could feel my body flexing and relaxing and my cock pulsing in her hand. She wasn't the only one smiling though; Irene across the deck was watching the two of us, grinning naughtily and ignoring both her husband and the movie.

She made eye contact with me and raised her eyebrows, I knew we were had, but I could tell that Irene was far from giving us up. She licked her lips and stared at the two of us, brother and sister, nuzzled beneath the blanket her husband had given us and doing something very taboo.

I was close now. My hand was rubbing at Hanni's inner thigh more strongly, grasping at her tight skin and brushing back and forth across her covered mound. Hanni stroked faster, faster...up and down went her tiny hand. My balls ached for release and Hanni pumped above them to bring it. She grasped tighter, stimulating my sensitive head when she reached it each time and then jerking it down with the skin clasped in her tender palms. I could feel it coming, seconds away now. I looked from Hanni to Irene, and Irene could see my state as well as Hanni could feel it; her mouth was nearly opened and her eyes searched mine to see me climax.

A few more strokes...just a few more...Hanni was did not stop for a second, stroking me for all I was worth. I began to cum, my body first flexed in that first second or two. Then I felt the semen rising from within me, jetting across me onto Hanni's side. I was only vaguely aware of Irene's eyes upon me as I shot a second time onto my sister's abdomen and thigh. She was directing my cock toward her beneath the blanket, still coaxing more of my sperm out between us. A pump of it caught her thigh and some of mine; still I kept coming. The jizz was spewing onto her hand now, and my sister jerked me a few more times before I had to grab her hand to stop her.

We were both sticky and covered in my load beneath the blanket, but Hanni kept her hand wrapped around my cock, holding me firmly and not letting go. I looked back in Irene's direction; she smiled at me brightly and then scooted closer to her husband, taking her eyes off of us and back to the movie. I couldn't believe how turned on I was that Irene had just watched my sister jerk me off under a blanket like high-school lovers. I would have dwelled on it further, but I was spent. It was then that I felt Hanni wiping us off beneath the blanket with a towel of some sort. She cleaned off our skin, and then my partially softened penis, which was an unbearable feeling in itself. When she finished, she folded up the cloth and wrapped her arm around mine: a rather unassuming gesture if you forget that she'd just caused me to cum all over her. She took my hand in hers and passed me the cloth. I brought it from beneath the blanket and realized it wasn't a towel at all, it was her bottoms.

The thought of her tiny, naked butt and warm, wet pussy beneath the blanket had my cock swelling again. I edged my hand closer again to her inner thigh, nearing her center when she pushed my hand away and whispered.

"Uh uh uh, just hold me and watch the movie..." I pouted when she said that and she caught the look. "We'll pick up where we left off later, I promise."

That took the edge off a little, besides, having her in my arms was promise enough that good things were to come. She scooted close to me under the concealing blanket. She wrapped her spindly legs around me like a monkey and brought my hand around to hold her. She was warm, so warm and yielding to my touch.

"I love you so damn much Hanni." I told her and waited for her to look me in the eyes,

"I know baby bro, I love you too......." she was so quiet and whispering right into my ear now, "....and I want you to fuck me....sooo hard... when we're finally alone."

I grinned from ear to ear. I couldn't wait to do just that. I held Hanni's lithe, slender frame against me for the remainder of the movie, unworried about our parents as they slumbered away. Irene looked over at us occasionally and I saw her smile knowingly at Hanni more than once.

At some point Hanni pulled on my shirt and whispered to me..."She knows..."

We both knew it now, and we were also much more at ease with the way she was handling it. She gently grasped Hanni's knee on her way below deck with her husband, wishing us goodnight. Jinwoo instructed that we shut the TV off before we went below to the bedroom we'd be sharing. Our parents followed them down, leaving Hanni and I alone up top, excitement building in our hearts.

When we were certain they were gone for sure, we locked eyes and just stared. Hanni began edging closer to me and bringing her puffy, lip-gloss frosted lips near mine. She lingered amount before pushing in; we shared a long, tender kiss and our tongues flitted out to teas each other. She was so gentle and her lips felt feather-light and warm against mine. I ran a hand up her slender body, massaging her as it went. We eventually broke the kiss and Hanni settled her head into my lap.

We talked for over an hour. Hanni shared with me her thoughts and feelings on what posing with Playboy would bring in the coming years and I listened attentively. We talked about frivolous things like friends and food, all the while my hands played over her smooth belly and caressed her lovingly. The tone changed when we started talking about us.

"I really love being with you Hanni..." she caught my gaze and smiled lovingly. Her smile was endearing and lovely.

"Are you sure it's not these you love?" she asked, bringing my hand in one motion up to her breast and sliding it immediately under the fabric of her bikini.

As always I was thrilled to be holding her ample breasts in my hand. They were warm, and her skin so incredibly soft. Despite the feeling, however, I gazed at her deeply to let her know how serious I was about how happy she made me.

"I know, I'm only kidding; you make me feel so happy, and so sexy. I hope you won't mind coming out to California with me because I'm not doing it without you."

I was taken aback by the statement. She breathed slowly then, in and out, awaiting my reaction to what she knew had been a serious proposition. My first thought was to protest; I couldn't just up and leave my home, let alone to be with my Playboy playmate sister. Within seconds however I was coming to my senses; the beautiful creature in my arms was all I wanted. I'd have no trouble finding a good job anywhere I went.

"Do you really mean that?" I asked.

A long pause ensued in which Hanni turned her head upward from its relaxed position in my lap and cast her eyes upon mine...

"Definitely." Her tone was one of complete certainty. It made my heart throb for her, and the thought of endless time and the implied wonderful sex life we'd share had my manhood throbbing too.

Hanni stood up and glanced back over her shoulder toward me, biting her fingernail as she did. When she reached the entrance to the lower deck she turned and leaned provocatively against the frame, casting her hip outward in a way that accentuated her lean form all the more enticingly. She aimed a finger at me and beckoned me toward her the seated position from which I'd been watching her eagerly.

"Come inside with me, I think I need help turning on that big shower down there," she suggested mischievously.

I ambled up after her and held her hand from behind as we headed down the stairs. The inside of the boat was larger than I'd guessed it was, and I was excited for what Hanni and I's room would be like. I was even more excited as I watched Hanni pull her camisole up over her shoulders and then toss it through the doorway to our bedroom, remembering now that she'd never put on her cum-soaked bottoms. I only got to peer through the opening a second before Hanni tugged my hand and pulled me close to her.

I took hold of her in my hands, large and strong in contrast to her tiny, graceful body. She arched her back into me, pressing our hips together and we kissed there in the hallway. We kissed deeply, making up for all the lost time. My hands roamed, her hands roamed, and our need was more apparent with each twirl of tongue against tongue. Once again, my sister was in my arms, clothed only in that alluring little bikini and dying for me to take it off her.

There in the hallway we kissed and touched and pressed against each other, mimicking what we truly wanted. Hanni had just asked me to come with her across the country and be with her, as much more than just brother and sister. I couldn't think of a place I'd rather be. Yet, just then I was getting exactly what I desired as well: every bit of Hanni I could get my hands on.

We continued our foreplay and rolled shoulder over shoulder toward the bathroom door. Hanni would push me off of her and pin me against the wall and then I'd do the same. All the while we stayed locked at then lips and hips, save the short gasps that escaped Hanni's mouth when I connected with a particularly sensitive patch of skin or the whispered

"mmmmh, I love you"s and "oh goddd"s when I touched her just right.

We were so caught up in each other we barely noticed door to Irene and Jinwoo's bedroom slightly ajar. So, when both of us heard a moan from the room nearby that clearly hadn't come from Hanni, we stood frozen there together with Hanni's warm breath brushing my cheek.

Slowly we turned our heads toward the door; phew, it wasn't coming from our parents' room. We inched closer to the opened door, close enough that with my arms wrapped around her I could see over her head the source of the sound we'd heard. I had not been wrong when I'd imagined Irene would be a knockout naked.

Hanni must have agreed too because she gripped tightly at my arms as we watched the scene unfolding before us. Irene's husband lay back on the bed with his legs hanging over the edge of the bed, bent at the knees. Irene held fast to them and was turned around toward us, her breasts swaying as she lifted the sweet behind of hers and dropped it down sharply into Jinwoo's lap. She was tanned and toned, though not quite what I was used to with my sister. She was a bit... fuller, in places but it definitely worked to her advantage.

All the comparing reminded me who I held in my arms and I looked down at her, fidgeting in my arms.

"Like what you see?" I whispered, a line she'd used on me so many times before. She directed one of my hands downward and I knew what she wanted.

"Mmm hmm," she agreed, not even speaking as my hand landed over her uncovered slit, emanating the warmth of her arousal.

I began to pressure her tiny clit and she sank her gorgeous behind into me. We stayed like that, me rubbing her and her absolutely loving it as Irene continued to fuck her husband just beyond the door. We were both watching intently when Irene lifted her head towards us, the few of hair strands that had escaped hanging down over her face as her eyes rose up and landed on the door.

She saw us, she definitely saw us, and Hanni and I held tightly to each other neither moving or breathing. Her eyes met both of ours and she took in what was obviously a completely compromising position. She may have suspected correctly before that my sister and I had been lovers, but with my hand over the place no brother is supposed to go and my other cradling one of Hanni's awesome tits, there was no getting around it now. We were both frozen in anticipation of how she'd react.

Her downward thrusts slowed as she took us in and then........ a smile. Not just any smile, a huge mischievous grin that accompanied with her renewed efforts to take her husband's cock deeper and harder only meant one thing. She approved.

Hanni looked back at me with nearly the same grin Irene had, and she gave my crotch some serious attention with a quick up-down of that peach-like butt of hers over my shaft. I thought I was hard before that, but with Irene being railed a few feet away and the world's hottest playmate/my amazingly fuckable sister in my arms I think I suddenly grew another inch.

Irene watched us for a little while, as if both of her and my sister and I were transfixed and unable to look away. She showed us a few tricks, at some point rotating her hips around in a way that rippled her core and must have felt unbelievably good to her husband. She let out a few coos of pleasure but something told me they were more about seeing and being seen than Jinwoo's remarkably average penis. I guess money can't buy everything.

When we heard Jinwoo start to grunt foolishly Hanni took me by the hand and led me into the bathroom. She turned on the water and immediately grabbed my neck with one of her dainty hands, pulling me in for a needy kiss. She was turned on so obviously I could barely stifle a laugh. She pulled me under the water, my shirt still on. I wrapped an arm around her and her hands pawed haphazardly at me; she was so aroused she barely knew what to do with herself.

I took care of that; I lifted her and pushed her against the shower wall aggressively. She scratched at my back and then pried my shirt up over my head. Her hands pried at my stomach,

"Ugh, I love your abs," she was running her fingers over my muscles while arching her back to push me back a bit and see between us, "you are really fucking strong."

I rolled my eyes, 'women always say things like that,' I thought. I was flattered but compared to her, like a brilliant marble sculpture, I felt like I was made of play-doh.

She read my mind, "I'm not just humoring you, mmmhh, I'm soo attracted to you," she was rubbing that naked mound against my cock now. "No guy has ever made me so hot like you do."

I had to admit, she was flattering my immensely. I hoped that she felt the same way when I told her how gorgeous she was. I was encouraged enough to push her back flat against the wall and thrust along her lips, or what I could feel of them. I was kissing her neck furiously and she and I were clamoring to hump each other below. Somehow we got the water running and it warmed quickly, dousing us and our remaining clothing. My soaked trunks were plastered over my stiff shaft and it made the contact between us all the more purposeful. Still, I wanted more; and Hanni did too. She was fumbling around my shorts and the drawstring holding them tight to me. I was lost in her the long smooth skin beneath her cute chin.

"Oh god," she was moaning and twisting from attention to her sensitive neck, "take them off please!"

She was still lifted off the ground, her beautiful legs wrapping me. I reached for my waistband and she helped me to push the shorts down. She hastily pulled off the last scrap of clothing, her cute little bikini top, and cast it away; her tits jiggled unbearably and my cock jumped with excitement.

I forced her against the wall with an audible thud. My cock made its first contact with my sister's bare pussy in what felt like forever (it had only been about 24 hrs.) my rod split her lips and I felt how incredibly wet she was. She gyrated against me, and with my body sandwiching her between the wall and I could feel every muscle she used to do so. We were so connected in that moment.

"Umhhhh, it's been...too long," she cooed to me as her hips rotated rhythmically, "I've wanted you to put that big cock......mmmmgghh... in me all fucking day."

I loved hearing her talk like that, and I loved the way she looked and felt as much now as ever. Water cascaded over our shoulders, wetting her hair and dancing randomly down her slick body. Her tits were smashed against my chest, forced upward and outward while gliding against me with her constant grinding and flexing.

My shaft slipped again and again between her lips, I could feel my tip catch every now and again at her clit and threatening to sink deep inside her. At that moment we were content to thrust desperately against each other. I sucked hungrily at her neck and she showered my cheeks, ear and neck with kisses as best she could between her labored inhaling and exhaling. I even loved the grazing of her warm breath over my neck, the thought of making my sister so full of lust and sensation made me all the warmer inside.

"Uhhhhnn unnnnhhh, you like that?" she slowed and lengthened the path of her slippery lips on their straddling path over my cock "do you want to be inside me, wanna fuck your little slutty sister? I can't take this much longer...."

"Oh god, you have no idea," I answered her. I knew she was grinning.

Then suddenly from somewhere through the steam...."Then do it already, Jesus," it was Irene's voice 'I don't think I can take it any longer either!" We were frozen once again, held captive by the fear of being revealed.

Irene came into view, but I could barely see her in my peripheral while supporting my sister against the cool tiles on the wall of the shower. She looked to be wearing a nightgown of some sort, small and silky by the looks of it. She approached me slowly from behind; Hanni and I held our breath.

Irene was just outside the shower door we had failed to close in our haste. I still couldn't see her face and I thought that this may have finally been too much for her to see and accept. I felt a hand cover Hanni's on my shoulder. It slid in between Hanni's little fingers and caressed me as it did. Irene was touching me from behind and I could feel her presence heavy on my backside. I began to exhale, not sure yet if I should be relieved or not.

"Oh relax, you two! If I was going to rat you out I could have done it any of the half dozen times you were up to something before." There was an air of confidence and satisfaction in her voice, she was enjoying our little secret it seemed to me.

Hanni fidgeted, reminding me that I was only an inch or so from impaling her against the shower wall, I hadn't softened a bit and Hanni's warm pussy was still pulsing around my invading member. She felt it too, bringing her back to the desperation and arousal that Irene's interruption had only temporarily quashed.

I moved this time: a long, slow stroke that made her arch her back in response. Irene whispered something like "that's it, go on..." and stepped a bit closer. Hanni was fully back in sex-mode now and surprised me when she released her hand from its interlocking position with Irene's and she reached out beyond me. Her hand found Irene's shoulder and nightgown. She pulled, and Irene quickly stepped into the shower. The wide coverage of the showerhead found her nightie; it was a pale yellow number hung loosely over her shoulders with precariously thin straps. It was cinched under her breasts, which were causing mounds to form through the soft fabric, topped with pretty peaks that implied her obviously erect nipples.

Hanni and I were returning, slowly but surely, to the desperate and rhythmic contact we'd been seeking before Irene walked in. Hanni's adorable panting returned and she once again was splitting her engorged lips over the shaft I so eagerly wanted to plunge inside her with.

Irene's entwined fingers tightened their grip on my shoulder, and it seemed to jar Hanni into some new reality. She reached out swiftly and caught Irene's shoulder strap, sliding it off and pulling her under the water and closer to our side. The wide spray of the luxurious shower began to douse Irene with water. It was a subtle, pleasant yellow that darkened as the water turned it from opaque to transparent in a matter of seconds.

First her gorgeous butt showed through, sweet cleft and all as the material began to paste itself to her skin. I was staring intently and hardly noticed as Hanni slipped to the floor and turned to face the brunette vixen and her transforming gown. Hanni's fingers curled around my cock as she took another step toward Irene and came face to face with her.

It was like some kind of stand-off of who was hotter (it was admittedly close) or who was more daring, or god knows what those two women were thinking. My mind raced, and my member throbbed with Hanni's hand stroking me gently and pressing me against one soft cushion of her behind. The scene playing out before me was nearly too much to bear; the unfathomably beautiful Hanni, an unmatched playboy playmate vs. a sultry, illusive brunette trophy wife that had an obvious understanding of her own sex appeal and how to use it just right. I could hardly keep my eyes straight as Hanni jacked me, the pleasure and the build-up was indescribable.

Just when I couldn't take it anymore, Hanni closed the gap. Closing her eyes she leaned in and planted a gentle kiss on Irene's lips. It lingered... and just when Hanni seemed to pull back Irene returned the favor. She was soaked through and through in her place under the shower, every inch of the lingerie clinging to her body and revealing its splendor beneath. Irene wrapped a hand behind my sister's neck, her fingernails teasing just at her hairline where I knew her to be sensitive, and she brought them firmly together.

First they just held there sampling the other's lips; then Hanni opened her mouth ever so slightly. Irene swiftly flitted her tongue against the sliver Hanni had opened for her and then Hanni did the same. They playfully darted their tongues together and wrestled them more vigorously with each passing second. I hadn't thought my sister to have enjoyed the company of a woman as she now was, but with the increased pressure and stroking of my cock I could tell that Hanni was enjoying it thoroughly.

Once they had shared a few moments of feverish making out and both Hanni and Irene had begun touching each other gently and tentatively with their unoccupied hands, they slowed to a stop and drew back an inch or two. Simultaneously, both of them smiled at each other as if shocked and pleased by their newest taboo behavior. That was when they also turned in tandem to look at me, casually standing behind Hanni with an arm around her side as she stroked me and I watched them.

I wasn't sure what was in store for me but from the look in their eyes and the way they both glanced down at my cock, looking enormous in Hanni's dainty grasp, I knew it was something good.

"Mmmh," Irene let out and slumped toward Hanni a bit, "it looks to me like you were about to take a bit of a thrashing from not-so-little brother here... don't let me stop you."

Hanni bit her lip sexily and nodded in agreement, giving me an awesome little squeeze. She still seemed a little overwhelmed with pleasure from her first experience with another girl, so when she didn't act fast enough, Irene jumped in. She followed Hanni's arm with a light touch until it came close to where my cock was encased firmly in her grasp.

"Can I?" she looked straight at Hanni as if asking for permission.

When Hanni gave her an exasperated sigh of agreement, she slipped her hand over and Hanni let hers fall toward the floor. Irene set her eyes on me, waiting for me to protest. When I didn't, she wrapped her hand around my shaft completely and closed the gap between us. With one hand wrapped around my sister's taut belly, teasing toward her sweet spot, my other hand was left free. I quickly occupied it, placing it tenderly on Irene's hip.

My touch encouraged her and Irene leaned forward; it was my turn to taste the brunette's tongue against mine. Irene showed little hesitation with me as she had with Hanni. She simply slid into me in one quick motion and we locked together. First we tested only each other's lips, playing and sensing and loving the sensation. Then, when we felt bolder, we found the tips of each other's tongues. She was stroking me more intensely as we embraced and my hands on both Hanni and Irene worked harder in response.

When Irene heard Hanni moan from the pressure of my fingers on her button, she remembered her original intent. She ended her hand's attention to my staff and guided it closer to Hanni's cute behind. She was leaning against the tile and the combination of my stimulation of her clit, the down-pouring shower, and her first experience with another woman had her floating in her own paradise just inches away from mine.

Whether Irene realized it or not, as she hungrily lined up my tip with the entrance to my sister's tight tunnel, Hanni was yet unaware. Lost in her own thoughts and pressed up against that cool, smooth shower wall, she didn't recognize the feeling of my head making contact with her taut outer lips. Nor did she hear it when Irene planted another quick kiss on my lips and said,

"Go ahead honey,"

I split Hanni's lips apart with my first motion, and then began to slide the length of my engorged member into the little playmate's pussy inch by inch. That certainly brought her to, and she craned her neck to look back at who was causing the sudden, intense sensation she was experiencing. As I pressed deeper inside of her I could feel Irene's hand still guiding me and her fingers adding to the unbelievable pleasure I felt as I buried my shaft into my sister.

"Oooohhhh fuckkkk......"she howled with the naughty mouth of hers.

Irene moved around to where Hanni was locked against the wall, her breasts spreading outward from the pressure. Hanni turned to face her as much she could with my invading cock holding her in place. Immediately Irene found Hanni's lips with her own and began to kiss her intensely. While the two probed each other's mouths I finally reached the termination of my path and savored the sensation of being completely engulfed in my sister's tight pussy.

Irene's hand, which had been wrapped in a ring around my rod, lowered to allow me that final inch push into Hanni. She moved it directly to my full balls and tenderly cupped them in her hand. Her other hand had made its way to Hanni's opening, now pried open with her brother's cock.

"Does that feel good Hanni?" Irene asked her cutely.

"Yesss, ohhhh .....it feels sooooo good." she mewed back.

Once her fingers found their way to Hanni's sensitive little clit, I had had bottomed out in my sister entirely. Every bit of my shaft was immersed by Hanni's slick, hot channel and it felt as if I could sense her breaths in and out and the undulations of her beautiful core. My own little playmate cooed at the sensation of my cock seeming to expand inside of her. She was so tight, so unbelievably tight standing there with my cock lodged inside her, able only to cope with the feeling and do little else.

Irene planted a trail of soft kisses and pecks down Hanni's body, stopping for a moment at her delicious breast to caress them in a way only another woman could. As she made her way down, she placed a palm on my lower abs and gently encouraged me to pull out of my sister until only the helmet remained inside of her. Her soft pink lips held tight to my retreating member and pulled outward with it, desperate to keep me within. Just as my head was about to pop from Hanni's opening, she took hold of the exposed cylinder and prevented me exiting.

Her mouth found the connection between my sister and I and she covered it with the expanse of her tongue. That's when her hand, wrapped around me, tugged at me to press into my big sister once more. Her tongue stimulated us both and Hanni cried out as I sank into her more swiftly this time. In seconds I was once more deep within Hanni for the second time, ready to begin taking her fully.

"oh fuck.....Y/N.....it's so....... I can't.....mmmmmmm." She was short for breath and couldn't find the words to describe how I was making her feel.

Irene's tongue was beginning to lap and twirl around our incestuous junction, causing both of us to gasp from the added stimulation. When Irene's hand guided me back once again I was prepared, sliding out of Hanni and stopping just before I was literally out of her tunnel entirely before parting her lips once more and plunging deep inside.

Hanni was beginning to come to, despite the extreme pleasure from the increasing tempo of my thrusts. When I slid backward for the fourth or fifth time I could feel my sister's cute butt coming back to meet me. I kissed her neck from behind and she shivered from the tender contact. I opened my mouth and could taste the freshness of the water, still gliding down her body, combined with that deliciousness of her skin I'd grown addicted to.

As I continued to slide in and out of my sister, spurred on by her return thrusts, I reached down and found Irene's head with her soft locks of hair and I took the back of her head in my hand. I massaged lightly at it as Irene continued lapping at my sister and I from below. I gently tugged at her ponytail and encouraged her to stand up next to us so I could look her in the eye as I fucked my sister before her.

She did as I asked and came up to meet my gaze. Her eyes flitted down to my cock, plunging repeatedly into Hanni as I had her partially pressed against the wall for balance. I pulled Irene close and pressed my lips to hers, kissing her deeply while Hanni did more of the work. As I battled tongues with Irene and reached a hand toward her lovely cunt, my sister gyrated her taut cheeks into me faster and the sensation of her warm folds engulfing me independent of my efforts was near too much to bear. I prayed I wouldn't come too soon.

As my cock experienced the sensation Hanni was causing it my fingers found Irene's opening and teased her wet lips. I thumbed at her clit and she looked into me fiercely due to my daring behavior. I thought she might even push me away when she reached down to my hand, but instead she pressed my fingers inside of her.

"Uhhhhhghh," she moaned, "I needed this."

"Ughhh," I gasped back with another pound into Hanni, "Jinwoo not.....mmmmph.... Getting it done?"

She looked down at my invading cock once more, and Hanni and she made eye contact when Hanni turned to hear her answer. Her hand cupped the entrance to Hanni's pussy and she answered.

"Certainly not like this...." Something about having Irene approve of my rigorous fucking of my sister had my adrenaline pumping. With one hand in Irene's pussy I pressed two digits into her and began finger-fucking her to the tempo of my thrusts into Hanni. My other hand cupped Hanni's breast firmly to brace myself as I fucked her about as hard as I ever had.

"Fuccckkk...." Hanni squealed, "be careful.....mghhhh....I'm fragile."

I hardly listened, careful only not to slam her too hard against the shower wall, which might have woken someone. I continued to jam my cock into Hanni's squeezing sheath, bottoming out over and over and hearing her moan and gasp for breath. My fingers kept pace and Irene was leaning against my sister with one of their breasts mashing against each other.

"God, I might.....ohh.....ooh....cum already." Hanni said almost worried.

"Mmmmnhhh, you're telling me......fuck," Irene added in a breathy phrase.

Irene bucked against my fingers and the dropped to her knees as if to escape the pleasure for a moment, I was sure she hadn't come just yet but she started to minister to Hanni anyway. First her fingers wiggled over Hanni's clit and she trailed kissed to Hanni's tits once more.

I took both Hanni's hips in my hands and pressed her ass cheeks hard against my pistoning shaft. She held fast to my wrist and put a second hand against the wall. Over and over I drove into her, feeling her ass slam back toward me and clapping into my lap, apparently she wasn't THAT fragile.

"Ooohh.....ohhhhh.......so hard.......I think I'm gonna...."

I wrapped an arm across her abdomen and breasts, my other hand fell across her thin neck. She stood upright and I continued to impale her. I could sense her near orgasm as her body began to shake and weaken in my arms and I took more of her weight. That was just fine because my cock had her held up like a coat on a hanger. Irene's mouth found a nipple and she nibbled at it while her hand flew over Hanni's extremely sensitive clit.

It was the most erotic experience of my life, fucking my naked playboy-vixen sis with reckless abandon while she was being worked over by the beautiful adulterous brunette as both her husband and our parents slumbered on the other side of the wall. My fingers pawed at handfuls of Hanni's breasts and ass and I rocked in and out of her until I knew she was at the end.

"Ohhh ohhh, I'm gonna.....mmmmh-uhhhh..... Fuck, I'm gonna come." she was hardly being quiet, considering the proximity of our dozing families - I kept plunging into her nonetheless "It's so biggg.....mmmmph....I love you so.....uhhhh....much."

God she was so sexy right then, I couldn't get enough of her sweet dirty-talk or the flawless body I was currently burying my cock inside of. Just a few more thrusts and she was there. I could feel her pussy grip down on me like a vice and her body convulse against both Irene and I. Irene kept fingering Hanni's pulsing clit and I could feel her pussy wetting with her arousal.

She was bucking against the two of us and spastically taking my rod in and out of her as her pussy both begged for it to be buried inside her and for the unbearable sensitivity to stop. She moaned, she cooed; for nearly a minute she came, riding out her orgasm - my little champ. She was so sexy that I could have filled her right then with my own cum, but something about the naughty look that Irene we giving me... eyes peering at me, one covered in a wisp of black hair, while she stayed latched to my sisters nipple... I knew there was a little more left in store for me.

My little playmate finally stopped her involuntary shivers and kissed the hand I'd laid upon her shoulder. It was a light kiss, a thank you kiss, and I thanked her back by wrapping an arm around her tight tummy and pulling her close. I was still sheathed snugly inside of her and began to withdraw; she hummed a complaint. I gave her one final thrust when I'd pulled halfway out and when my hips made contact for the last time she melted in my arms. I finally removed my cock from her entirely and she turned around to face me, placing her back against the cold tiles and jumping at the sensation of them against her back. She took my chin in one hand and pulled me close; we kissed deeply and sensually; my God she always tasted so good.

Meanwhile, Irene had fallen to her knees again and as Hanni and I finished with each other, our tongues darting out for the last time, I felt Irene take my shaft in her practiced hand. Looking down at her I saw her beautiful body once more: breasts full and high upon her chest, pink nipples standing at attention and her firm abdomen. She kissed my tip and must have intended to suck me into her warm, waiting mouth. As good as that would have felt, Irene had done enough work already and I knew it was time to give her the attention she deserved. With Hanni recovering, eyes closed and face toward the ceiling, I gently took Irene's chin in my hand and coaxed her upward with a gentle pull.

She came up to meet me, eyes full of wonder and lust. She didn't know why I'd stopped her, but soon realized that intended to tend to her and not the other way around. I urged her toward the high bench at one end of the shower, where the water still reached her legs. Hanni followed her there and sat beside her, still zoned out and inattentive. As I sat Irene down carefully on the edge of the seat and positioned my mouth between her taut thighs, I took time to admire the beautiful shape that she'd managed to stay in. I figured her for no more than 34, but for the impeccable skin and luscious curves she carried, she and Hanni could have been roommates.

I massaged at the skin just beside her equally firm cheeks, a spot Hanni always seemed to love when I touched. Sure enough, Irene's dainty toes stretched and her hands reached out to bring me closer to her immaculate and beautiful slit. Her inner lips just peaked out from within her mound and I could tell just by looking at it that her pussy was going to be a snug fit.

I wasted little time; we were both so fired up, me from my intense sex with my sister and Irene from watching and waiting. I looked up at her, waiting for permission to enter a new level of intimacy. Her eyes looked desperate and sensitive:

"Mmm hmm," she hummed to me.

I planted the tip of my tongue at the very bottom of her entrance and wiggled it just inside a quarter of an inch. I then dragged it up within her pussy and to her clit, painstakingly slow. She moaned for the entire ten seconds it must have taken me to reach her button and then let out an exasperated breath. I then worked around her clit, flicking it with my tongue while pressing my hands into every bit of flesh they could reach from my kneeled position between her legs.

Hanni had taken to kissing slowly and sensually at Irene's neck as she grazed her hands over Irene's breasts and midsection. By the time that Hanni had even opened her eyes I was working a finger and my tongue into Irene's pussy, it was getting wetter with each passing second. She was so tight, I couldn't even imagine that she'd had much sex despite how attractive I, and probably any man, found her; obviously Jinwoo hadn't won her over with his size.

When I detected that Irene was building toward an orgasm, I increased my efforts and Hanni, who had perceptively noticed before me had already begun sucking all over Irene's chest and nipples.

Irene reached a hand down and grabbed my hair in between her fingers, running them through my short haircut and caressing my scalp. Then, for some reason, she stopped me. I followed her leading hand back up to eye level again and with her pair of pretty, large eyes, she looked deep into mine.

"It's so good....hmmm," she breathed out what she'd been holding in as her orgasm first suggested itself, "If we keep going, I'm not sure I could stop."

There was sincerity in her voice, and though I thought she may have really put an end to our tryst, the lips that puckered ever so slightly and accepted my kiss so readily suggested otherwise.

Hanni was being mischievous again, and she quickly grabbed my cock in her hand as it hung stiff between Irene and I.

"Why would you want to?" she said seductively as she pressed my tip against Irene's mound and ran it slowly from bottom to top as I had with my tongue.

Irene resolve weakened visibly, the tenseness she'd been displaying since the first thought of being penetrated was melting away in front of me. As my head made contact with her puffy folds, she shivered and her hands shot out to my abs and her pussy. She ran her fingers over the place where my cock had touched, but didn't push me away.

"I shouldn't....Jinwoo," she whispered barely loud enough for us to hear. I leaned into her and kissed her again while Hanni's hand stroked my engorged shaft; it was still slick from her own pussy. I was in heaven - Irene's tongue, despite her protests, was playing with mine enthusiastically, and I could feel her body involuntarily gyrating and pressing her mound harder against me. Hanni was, herself, pushing me deeper and I could just barely feel my cockhead beginning to spread Irene's lips.

"I don't think I can take that....hmmm...... Jinwoo is nothing like it."

Hanni smiled, sensing in the beautiful brunette a weakening resistance. I thought, if only briefly, that I might be offending my sister with my desires for another woman, and my eyes sought hers. Irene hadn't yet given permission, but when Hanni's eyes found mine she knew immediately what they wanted to ask her.

Rather than answer, she took my face in her hand and leaned in between Irene and I. Her perfect tits rested deliciously on my arm as I was massaging Irene's wonderful midsection. She kissed me, quickly and deeply, and I immediately knew what her answer would be.

Hanni was even more impatient than I; she practically tugged on my cock and urged me to slide forward. I still wanted to respect Irene's wishes despite the fact I knew almost certainly she would crack, but Hanni caught me off guard. As we broke our kiss she urged me with a firm tug forward enough for my helmet to slip just beyond Irene's entrance.

Irene gasped. I quickly pulled back and removed myself from her the tight embrace of Irene's entrance. My head shined with the wetness of Irene's pussy and it looked ripe for another plunge deep into the beautiful brunette.

"Hanni....!" I scolded.

Hanni only lifted her eyebrows and motioned for me to look at Irene to see her reaction. I didn't know what to expect, but I was pleasantly surprised to find Irene's eyes closed and a look of undeniable satisfaction on her face. When she felt me pull back out after Hanni's bold actions, she interjected,

"Oh God... maybe just a little..." she cooed, "Hanni, do you mind if I ask your lover here for a little more."

Hanni grinned naughtily and leaned in to plant her answer tenderly on Irene's lips. I felt a bit left out for a moment, as if I were just being passed between the two beauties, but then I remembered that my cock was at the entrance to the young brunette and I couldn't possibly feel anything but content. I prodded Irene further, and she opened her eyes with Hanni breaking from her kiss. I began to slide in, inch after inch. Hanni watched intently, and she held my arm so she could still be a part of the action. I held her myself, grasping her little butt firmly in my hand so she could still tell how much I loved her. Even Hanni was growing impatient though, and seeing me draw out my plunge into Irene's pussy, she interjected,

"She just got through making love in the bedroom, I think you ought to give her what she really wants bro,"

I was still reeling from Hanni's newfound spunk, this naughty threesome in the shower of a crowded boat had her talking like a sex-fiend and I liked it. I could have turned back and fucked her again for how much she was turning me on. Instead, I looked back at Irene and saw that Hanni had been right:

"You're sister has a point Y/N, ughhhh," she said as I withdrew to start obliging her, she was almost giggling at Hanni's bluntness "think you can.... mmmmmnghh... make me come with that..... fuckkkk.... big cock?"

But I had already started to try, and with my gorgeous little playmate nuzzled into one side of my body and with my member now buried in the beautiful woman in front of me, there was no turning back. I started to plunge into Irene with little of the gentleness I often afforded my sister. I picked up the pace, and all three of us watched as my cock slipped inside her, causing Irene to gasp, and then slipped out covered in her lubricating fluids -- that part caused Hanni to gasp.

My little sister eventually propped herself up on the same seat as Irene to get a better spot for the action. Without her at my side to grasp onto and savor her perfect body, I opted for the luscious one of Irene instead. I grasped firmly and a bit more roughly than Irene had expected, not that she didn't like it. My fingers pressed into her hips, fuller and softer than Hanni's with Irene's slightly fuller build. I loved the change-up, however, and I was soon pounding into Irene without restraint. It felt glorious, her ass clapping against my thrusting hips and my shaft being squeezed by her slippery insides. Her tits weren't as large as Hanni's, and I looked over at Hanni to see that Irene was palming her breasts and fingering my sister in the most sensuous of ways. Indeed, Hanni's breasts were the best I'd ever seen and I couldn't wait to get my hands back on them, but Irene's... they were bouncing around at my rough pounding in a way that had me ready to spray inside her.

I wondered if Irene would have it however, and looking at both women I would have been equally happy to fill either one. But it was coming quickly, Irene's taut sheath was assuring that, and so was the unbelievably sexual girl-on-girl action unfolding before me. I might have been only and afterthought to Irene had I not been fucking her so hard.

"Ohhhh.......my...... Godddd...." She cried out, breaking a kiss with Hanni. I could see my sister smiling; she must have known what Irene was feeling.

"Irene, I'm getting close," I warned her, wondering what she would say.

At first she didn't respond, savoring my impaling cock further and leaning her head back adorably. But then she looked back at my sister, once again reminding me of the kind of attention a superstar like Hanni demanded and deserved. I slowed my pace a bit but kept ramming her with fervor, I hadn't fucked a girl like that, well....ever. Collecting herself, she asked Hanni:

"Do you want him to.... Ughhhh...." she seemed near orgasm as she spoke, "you know.... Mmmmnhhh... finish with you?"

But Hanni had never been a selfish girl, and she wanted Irene to have just as much fun as she did, plus she probably figured she had me as much as she wanted. "No way Irene, but just let me warn you, he's like a fire hose," Hanni said giggling. Irene's eyes widened, but she didn't stop me. Hanni backed away a bit but took my hand in hers, she just wanted to watch this part. I hadn't stopped fucking Irene the whole time, and she finally refocused her attention on me, not that I hadn't been caught up enough in my onslaught of her gorgeous body. I did catch Hanni's warning and it made me smile, I was looking forward to cumming in Irene if she'd have me. With Hanni's hand in mine I placed it back on Irene's hips and held on tight. Irene had been heading for orgasm long before me, so when I started to feel it, Irene was already howling. Hanni put a hand over her mouth with a worried hush; Irene understood and tried to keep quiet. "Ohhhh fuckkkk..... how can you stand it Hanni..... so fucking big!" she whispered as quietly as possible. Nobody awoke however, and as I thrust again and again into Irene's warm center I knew I'd be over the edge at any minute. Her slick channel gripped me, she began to climax, and hard. Her inner muscles were inordinately strong, more so than Hanni's, and whatever restraint I had left in me was broken when I tried to push passed them without cumming. I was cooked, and I blasted into Irene with reckless abandon. I kept thrusting, rope after rope of semen coating her insides and pumping deep into her womb. I wondered if she'd been trying to get pregnant with Jinwoo, and the risk that she might accidentally do so with me turned me on even more. It seemed to keep me spurting seed into her; it must have been ten times or more.

Maybe it was the fact that I'd just fucked my own little sister against the shower wall, or the fact that she was literally a Playboy Playmate, or maybe it was the fact that I was holding her hand as I came inside our host's beautiful albeit unsatisfied wife. Either way I was in heaven, and Hanni leaned into me once more as I began to slow and Irene rode out her orgasm. She reached down to Irene's clit to keep her going and she spasmed at Hanni's touch. I wished I knew how to stimulate the two women as well as they did, but I was content to watch the two beauties anyway.

Irene was still orgasming, mewing and gasping for air much like I'd seen Hanni do every time I'd been with her since the first time a few days ago. She was beautiful, and I felt nearly jealous that Jinwoo could be with her any time she let him, but then again... I had Hanni. I looked at my little sister and I smiled at her, looking deep into her eyes to make sure she knew how much I couldn't wait to be with her again. She knew though, and her cute grin and kiss she planted on my lips reassured me.

Irene started to come around, "Jesus," she breathed out. She bucked her hips involuntarily when I moved a bit. "I haven't been fucked like that since college," she sang. We all laughed a bit and it lightened the mood.

"So killer, do you think you can take that thing out of me or is it stuck?"

I decided to have a little fun with her and pressed in the inch or two I'd withdrawn; we both nearly fell over we were so sensitive. "I think it's stuck," I joked. I couldn't deny that it still felt incredible to be lodged inside of her.

"It better not be!" cried out my sister.

We all knew why she said that, and it made Irene smile. I finally slid out of her, and some of the mixture we'd created inside came out with me. "Well," Irene commented, "that might not have been my best decision ever." I kind of shrugged my shoulders as she stood up. She looked down between us at my semi-erect cock. It was touching her lightly at the waist and she wrapped a hand gently around it. "On second thought, it might have been."

Irene looked up to me and brought my lips to hers, she planted a sensuous kiss on my lips that tasted like berries; she really was a provocative beauty. The kiss we shared might have been good, but the one she next shared with my sister was better. Theirs lingered longer, and their hands briefly touched each other's bodies. When they broke it was Irene who spoke, "I'm going to leave you two alone," we watched in awe as she took a step away from us and turned back, "if you guys need another playmate this week, you know where to find me."

It was an odd choice of words, and both Hanni and I looked at each other with a bit of shock, she couldn't have known could she? She kept right on walking out the door, grabbing a towel and heading back for her bedroom. I wondered if her husband would notice that someone else had been inside his wife that night, and left something behind.

My attentions were broken by Hanni back at my side, she kissed me, and I kissed her back hard. Our hands roamed everywhere, both incredibly turned on by what had just happened, and inexpressibly glad to be back upon each other. We made out in the shower like that for God knows how long. It was a good thing Jinwoo had invested in some expensive water recirculating contraption because we took our time under the warm downpour kissing and touching like star-crossed lovers.

When our legs began to tire, we finally gave in, and I lovingly washed Hanni's body. I spent extra time on all of the features I love most, and I could hear her start to breathe more heavily when my hands washed over her tiny pussy. She did the same for me, not being too shy when she jerked her hand over my erect member to "clean" it. But she eventually finished the task, and after some more minutes of gentle kisses and an embrace that I could have kept going forever under the shower's streaming heat, we finally turned it off. I wrapped a towel around my sister, sorry to see the playmate's awesome body hidden for even a moment, and took one for myself.

I followed her down the hall and watched her cute butt sway, I think she was doing it on purpose but I could never tell. Before going back into our room I took a final glance at Irene's door, wondering what the rest of the week would be like with the beautiful brunette whom we'd both just made love to. Hanni tugged at my hand and I didn't really care, as long as my sister was there with me I would be in paradise.

We made love once before we fell asleep that night, and another time when Hanni awoke, feelingly naughty, on top of me. In the dim light I held and watched her move about with her own brother inside of her. The boat hitched gently back and forth as we had sex for what could have been hours; we were both insatiable. Neither of us knew what the future would bring but, lying there making love to the only person we'd ever wanted so badly, we finally drifted off into an unconcerned slumber.

[jjjjisun-deactivated20260131]

Asa and her family will help her move to her new apartment in Seoul, near her job as a member of the girl group BABYMONSTER. Since the car will be packed with her items, she will sit on her brother’s lap throughout the 2-hour trip.

With Asa In The Backseat

Asa X Male Reader | 3485 words

TW: Incest

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The vintage sedan that had seen better days was crammed like a tin of sardines. The backseat, meant for two, was now occupied by four: me, my younger sister Asa, and all her clothes and baggage. Our parents had insisted on bringing an oversized painting, leaving barely any legroom for us. Asa, perched on my lap, was the only one who seemed unbothered by the tight space.

Asa's head rested on my shoulder, her hair tickling my neck. She was small and petite, but her weight was solid on my thighs. I shifted slightly, trying to find a comfortable position, but the car's interior was as unyielding as our situation.

"I can't feel my feet," I muttered, wiggling my toes in my boots. Asa giggled, her breath warm on my ear.

"You're such a Daddy's Girl," she teased. "Can't even sit cramped for a few hours."

I squeezed her side, making her laugh louder. "And you're a little brat," I retorted. "Now, lift your butt so I can adjust."

Asa pouted but did as she was told, lifting herself just enough for me to readjust my legs. I stretched them out as much as the space allowed, feeling relieved. But as Asa settled back down, her weight landed differently this time, the crack of her butt pressing directly onto something unexpected.

I froze, my eyes widening. Asa, oblivious, started chatting with Mom again, her voice filling the car and the engine's hum. I tried to ignore the sudden throb, the heat building in my core. This was wrong. Asa was my little sister, off-limits in every sense of the word. But my body wasn't getting the memo. I tried to think of anything else, anything cold, anything that wasn't Asa's soft curves pressed against me.

But Asa shifted again, her head tilting slightly, her breath ghosting against my neck. I could feel her pulse, rapid and steady, against my chest. Her hair smelled like strawberries, a scent I hadn't noticed before. The car was suddenly stifling, the air thick with an unseen tension.

"Back off, Asa," I whispered, harsher than intended. She looked up at me, her eyes wide and innocent, but there was a flicker of something else, something that mirrored the heat I was feeling.

"Not until we get to the cabin," she whispered back, a small smile on her lips. She knew. She knew the effect she was having on me and wasn't stopping.

I leaned back, my eyes closed, trying to shut out the world. This was going to be a long drive.

I took out my phone, the screen casting a pale blue light in the dark car, and started scanning through my social media feeds—anything to distract myself from the warmth spreading through me, from Asa's weight on my lap. Asa, however, wasn't so eager to distract herself. She sat up slightly, her hands busy with her phone, but her body remained intentionally close.

"Hey, children." Dad's voice cut through my distraction. He might be looking in our direction even though the painting was blocking his view. “We're about to hit a bumpy road," he warned. “So, hold on to your seats."

I groaned internally. Hold on, like I wasn't already clinging to my sanity with Asa's butt on my throbbing erection. I tucked my phone away, bracing myself for the upcoming bumps. Asa looked at me, her eyes sparkling with mischief in the dim light. She knew. She knew exactly what she was doing to me.

The car hit the first bump, jostling us all. Asa's weight shifted forward, her bottom pressing harder against my lap. I sucked in a breath, my hips lifting slightly on their own accord, seeking more friction. Asa gasped, her head tilting back, her chest pressing against my hands that were gripping her hips.

"Asa," I hissed, my voice low and federated, "Stop moving."

But she didn't stop. She wiggled her hips slightly, her body soft and pliant against mine. "I-I can't help it," she stammered, but her voice was breathy and distinctly turned on. The road is so bumpy."

I could feel the heat radiating from her, could feel her heart pounding against mine. Mom and Dad focused on the road, not paying us any mind. I took a chance, my hands sliding up Asa's sides, my thumbs brushing against the underside of her breasts. She moaned loudly, and I froze, my eyes darting to the front of the car.

"Asa, is everything alright back there?" Mom asked, concern etched in her voice.

I could see Asa's face flush red, her eyes wide with surprise. "Y-Yeah, Mom," she stuttered, "Just, uh, the road is bumpy. It's uncomfortable."

I looked down at her, my eyes meeting hers. She was turned on. Her pupils dilated, her lips slightly parted. She was enjoying this, the friction, the heat, the risk. I could feel my shaft hardening even more, pressing painfully against my jeans. This was going to be a long, bumpy ride.

The car corrected its path, and the road was smooth beneath its tires. But my body was still alive with the memories of the bumpy ride, my belly a whirlwind of coiled tension. Asa, still perched on my lap, seemed equally affected. Her breaths were short and shallow, her body pressed flush against mine. My hands, which had stilled during the conversation with Mom, resumed their exploration, my thumbs tracing circles on her midriff.

"Are you okay?" I whispered, my voice hoarse with arousal. Asa nodded, her head tilting to give me better access to her neck. I took the invitation, my lips pressing against her soft skin, my tongue tasting the saltiness of her. Asa moaned softly, her body arching slightly, pushing her bottom further against my throbbing erection.

"You're untouched, aren't you?" I said, my voice laced with desire. Asa chuckled, a sound that was more of a pant. "What makes you think that?" she challenged. I took her jaw and tilted her head to look at me. Her eyes were pools of desire, her cheeks flushed with heat. "Because you're reacting like you've never been touched before," I said, my thumb brushing against her bottom lip.

Asa's eyes fluttered closed, her mouth opening slightly, inviting me in. But the honk of a passing car brought us back to reality. I pulled back, my chest heaving. This was dangerous, too risky. We were in the car with our parents, for goodness' sake. I wanted Asa, yes, but not like this, not here.

I took out my phone, unlocking it with shaky fingers. I opened a messaging app and started typing.

*Are you a virgin, Asa?*

I felt her shift slightly, her eyes moving to the screen. She took her phone out, her fingers flying over the screen. My phone buzzed with her reply.

*Why does that matter?*

I could feel the smile tugging at my lips. This was a dance, a game of cat and mouse. And I was enjoying it. I typed again.

*If you are, what happened in the car was highly inappropriate.*

I watched her read the message, and I saw the corners of her mouth twitch. She was enjoying this, too.

*Well, then, I guess I'm not a virgin. A cucumber claimed that honor long ago.*

I stared at the message, my brain processing the image that flashed through my mind. I could feel the heat in my core intensify, my shaft hardening painfully against my jeans. This did not help the situation.

I looked at Asa, her eyes twinkling with mischief. She knew what she was doing to me and was enjoying it. I leaned in, my lips brushing against her ear. "You're playing with fire, Asa," I warned. Her smile widened, her eyes sparkling with irrepressible joy.

"And you're just the man to put out the flames, aren't you?" she whispered back, her body moving slightly, her bottom rubbing against me. I groaned, my hands gripping her hips tightly, trying to keep her still. This would be a long drive, even with the smooth road. Because Asa had awoken something within me, something I wasn't sure I could put back to sleep.

I shifted beneath Asa, my body aching for release. I could feel her heat, her wetness seeping through my jeans, and it was driving me to the brink of insanity. I needed more, needed to touch her without the fabric barrier.

"Asa," I whispered, my hands moving to her thighs, "Lift your butt for a moment."

She looked at me, her eyes clouded with desire. She understood what I wanted, and she wanted it too. Slowly, she lifted her body, her hands gripping my shoulders for support. I moved quickly, unbuttoning my jeans and pushing them down, taking my underwear with them. Asa mirrored my actions, her shorts and underwear joining mine in a heap on the floor of the car.

When she lowered herself, her heat met mine, her wetness coating my shaft. She gasped, her eyes widening as she felt me, fully naked and hard, pressing against her. I slid my hand between us, gripping my shaft and aligning it with her entrance. I looked at her, seeking her consent, and she nodded, her eyes so intense I felt like drowning in them.

I pushed forward, my hips lifting as I slid my length into her tight, wet cunt. Asa's mouth opened in a silent scream as I filled her, her nails digging into my shoulders. I paused, giving her time to adjust, feeling the walls of her cunt pulsing around me.

"Is this okay?" I whispered, my voice barely audible. She nodded, her eyes closed, her body trembling. "I-I think so," she whispered back. "You're so big, it's... it's a lot."

I began to move, slowly, my hips rolling in a rhythm as old as time. Her tightness was exquisite, her body accepting mine with an almost overwhelming receptivity. I felt my shaft bump against her cervix, and she moaned softly, her head tilting back, exposing the long line of her neck.

I leaned in, my lips capturing the pulse point, my tongue tasting her skin. I wanted to mark her, so I tried to claim her as mine. She gasped, her hips moving, meeting mine thrust for thrust. Our bodies moved in a dance as old as time, our breaths mingling, our hearts beating in sync.

We stayed like that, moving slowly and quietly, our bodies speaking a language that needed no words. I could feel the tension building in my core, the heat spreading through my limbs. I was close, so close. But I didn't want it to end, didn't want this moment to be over.

I slid my hand between us, my fingers finding her clit, circling it in slow, steady movements. Asa's breath hitched, her body stiffening. I could feel her, her cunt pulsing around me, her body teetering on the edge. I wanted her to fall, wanted to give her this pleasure.

"Come for me, Asa," I whispered, my voice harsh with desire. And she did, her body convulsing, her cunt squeezing me so tightly I saw stars. I followed her over the edge, my body jerking as I filled her, my shaft pulsing with my release.

We stayed like that, our bodies connected, our breaths slowly returning to normal. I could feel the car moving beneath us, and I could hear the engine's hum, but all I could focus on was Asa, her body pressed against mine, her soft snores filling the car.

When she stirred, her eyes slowly opening, I leaned in, capturing her lips in a soft, gentle kiss. "I love you, Asa," I whispered, my heart full. She smiled, her eyes soft, and whispered, "I love you too, Oppa."

And at that moment, everything was right in the world.

The car slowed down, Dad's voice cutting through the soft hum of the engine. "Alright, kids, we're approaching the tunnel. It's a bit of a mess due to some construction up ahead, so hold on. It might get loud and bumpy."

Asa's eyes met mine, a silent understanding passing between us. The dim glow of the setting sun casting shadows on her face heightened her features, making her look like a temptress. A sly smile curved her lips, and she turned, spinning around to face me, her knees resting on the seat beside my hips.

"What are you doing, Asa?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest.

"Shh, Oppa," she whispered back, placing a finger on my lips. "Dad said it's going to be loud, right? No one will hear us."

Her words sent a thrill down my spine, and my body was already reacting to her proximity. The car jolted slightly, signaling our entry into the tunnel. Darkness enveloped us, the only light coming from the dim glow of the car's dashboard. Asa leaned in, her lips finding mine. Her tongue slipped into my mouth, hungry and demanding.

I groaned, my hands moving to her hips, pulling her closer as she began to move, riding me like there was no tomorrow. Her breath hitched, her nails digging into my shoulders as she consumed me, her body moving in a frantic rhythm that matched the pounding of our hearts.

The tunnel was a symphony of sounds - the engine's hum, the construction's tap-tap-tap, our ragged breaths, and the soft, wet sounds of our bodies moving against each other. Asa's hands moved to the hem of her tank top, lifting it off her body swiftly. Her breasts, round and full, spilled out, her nipples hard and ready for my mouth.

I leaned down, capturing one of them, my tongue swirling around the hardening peak. Asa moaned, her hips moving faster, her body desperate for release. I could feel her, hot and wet around me, her body clenching tighter with each thrust. I switched to the other breast, my teeth grazing her nipple, making her gasp.

The car jostled again, the tunnel's construction creating unexpected bumps. Asa's body jerked, her nipple slipping out of my mouth. In my haste to reclaim it, my hand landed on the thin fabric of her tank top, ripping it in the process. Asa laughed, a throaty, wanton sound that went straight to my groin.

"I think you like destroying my clothes, Oppa," she teased, her fingers playing with the torn fabric.

"I think you like giving me reasons to," I countered, my hands moving to her breasts, my thumbs brushing against her nipples.

Asa's breath hitched, her body moving faster, her hips gyrating against me. I could feel the heat building in my core, the tension coiling tighter with each thrust. I moved my hands to her thighs, spreading them wider, pushing into her deeper. Asa moaned, her head tilting back, her hair cascading down her back.

The car hit a huge bump, and Asa's body spasmed, her orgasm ripping through her. I followed her over the edge, my body jerking as I filled her, my shaft pulsing with my release. The car emerged from the tunnel, the bright sunlight stinging our eyes, but all I could see was Asa, her body trembling with satisfaction, her eyes soft and loving.

"That was... intense," I said, my voice hoarse.

Asa smiled, her fingers tracing the line of my jaw. "It is, Oppa," she replied, her voice soft and sweet. And I knew, in that moment, that no matter what, our life would always be intense moving forward.

The sudden burst of daylight from the tunnel exit temporarily blinded us, but our bodies were still alight with the passion we'd ignited. As the car settled back onto the smooth road, I looked at Asa, her chest heaving, her nipples still hard and glistening from my mouth. I wanted more, needed more. I wanted to feel her lips wrapped around my shaft, wanted to hear the sounds she made as she took me in.

"Turn around," I commanded, my voice low and filled with desire. Asa's eyes widened, but she complied, quickly turning so that her head rested on my lap, her back pressed against the seat. I could feel the heat radiating from her, could feel her breath ghosting against my still-hard shaft.

"What are you going to do to me, Oppa?" she asked, her voice laced with anticipation. I smiled, my hands moving to her midriff, my thumbs tracing the curve of her belly.

"I'm going to worship you, Asa," I said, my voice filled with reverence. "I'm going to taste every inch of you."

Asa shifted slightly, her body twitching with anticipation. I started at her navel, my tongue dipping into the indentation, tracing the lines of her abs. Asa gasped, her body tensing as I moved lower, my lips kissing the soft skin just above her pelvis. I could feel her watching me, her eyes filled with desire and trust. I wanted to make this good for her, tried to make it unforgettable.

I moved my hands to her hips, my fingers digging into her soft flesh as I lifted her slightly, positioning her so that her mouth was now level with my throbbing shaft. Asa looked at me, her lips parting slightly, and I almost came undone. She looked like a goddess, a temptress offering herself to me.

"Take me, Asa," I whispered, my voice harsh with desire. She leaned in, her tongue flicking out, licking the bead of pre-cum at my tip. I groaned, my hips jerking forward, seeking more. Asa smiled, her lips wrapping around my shaft, taking me in.

I nearly lost it. Her mouth was hot and wet, her tongue swirling around me, tasting me. I gritted my teeth, trying to hold back and make this last. I moved my hands to her breasts, pinching her nipples, making her moan around my shaft. The vibrations sent shockwaves through me, and I had to grip her hips to steady myself.

I moved my mouth lower, my tongue diving between her folds, tasting her. She was sweet, like honey, her body hot and wet and eager for me. I slid my tongue into her, feeling her body clench around me. Asa's movements on my shaft faltered, her body tensing as I pleasured her. I felt a thrill at being able to bring her to the edge of oblivion with just my mouth.

Suddenly, Asa's body jerked, her mouth slipping off my shaft as she gasped. I looked up, following her gaze, and saw a truck approaching. The driver had his eyes wide and his mouth open in shock as he took in the scene playing out in the backseat of our car. Asa and I froze, our eyes locked with the driver's as the truck passed.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Then, Asa burst into laughter, her body shaking with mirth. "Did you see his face?" she giggled, her body shaking against mine. I chuckled, my hands moving to her thighs, gripping them tightly.

"Looks like we put on quite the show," I said, my voice filled with amusement. Asa looked at me, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Let's give him an encore," she said, her mouth wrapping around my shaft again, her hands gripping the base tightly. I groaned, my hips lifting, thrusting my shaft deeper into her mouth.

I was close, my body tensing as I felt the heat building in my core. I wanted to come on her, mark her as mine. I moved my hands to her belly, my fingers splayed out as I felt her body clench around mine. She pulled my shaft out of her mouth, my hand wrapping around it, pumping it furiously. Asa watched me, her eyes wide and eager, her tongue sticking out, ready to catch my release.

I came with a groan, my body jerking as I spilled my seed onto her belly, coating her skin with my warmth. Asa's tongue darted out, licking the cum from her lips, her eyes never leaving mine. I smiled, my hand moving to her thigh, spreading the rest of my release onto her skin.

When the truck driver passed us again, this time going the other way, I turned, catching his eye. He quickly looked away, but not before I saw the smile tugging at his lips. I winked at him, then turned back to Asa, my hands moving to her face, cupping her cheeks.

"I can’t believe a KPOP idol is mine," I whispered, my lips capturing hers in a deep, passionate kiss. And I knew, as we pulled away from each other, our bodies satiated and our hearts content, that this was just the beginning.

As the car pulled into the cabin's driveway, Asa and I looked at each other, silently understanding. Our taboo relationship was about to get a whole lot more interesting.

[jjjjisun-deactivated20260131]

My Playmate, My Sister (Part 2)

Hanni X Male Reader | 5666 words

TW: Incest

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Part 2 of My Playmate, My Sister

Buy me a Ko-Fi.

—

My sister Hanni and I lay in each other's arms, Hanni's head nestled in the crook of my neck, allowing me to take in the sweet aroma of her hair. We had just encountered the most passionate sex either of us had ever had, and despite the fact we both wanted more of each other, neither of us had the energy to move. Instead, we drifted off into a satisfied slumber. Even though I had just experienced her in the most intimate way possible, my dreams were still filled with visions of my sister, and for good reason. She was the soon-to-be playboy playmate of the year and possibly the hottest woman in the universe: my Hanni. I imagined taking her in every position, in every place I could think of, immersed in her beautiful moans of ecstasy.

I knew I could tell nobody about this new direction in my life and the incredible luck I had stumbled upon, not that anyone would believe me anyway. It was all too much of a fairytale that a regular guy like me, though I like to think I'm handsome and charismatic, would ever find myself in the arms of a goddess like Hanni. She was the very image of perfection: smooth, with a toned form, soft, hand-filling breasts, flowing blond hair, and an angelic face. Though it had taken me to find her in the pages of a Playboy, I now couldn't imagine making love to a more ideal woman than Hanni.

"Girls like Hanni don't show me the time of day," I thought, "let alone my sister!"

Nonetheless, there she was as I awoke to an empty bed the following day and shuffled downstairs with sleep still in my eyes. She was a goddess, her silky blonde hair cascading around her gorgeous face. My eyes continued, taking in her petite frame, smooth and toned in all the right places. I watched her momentarily as she bounced around the kitchen; it was like I had court-side seats to one of the Playboy photo shoots I had found of her online only a week ago. She seemed so happy, with a beautiful smile and an energy in her step that made her glow; it was even better to know I had a part in her cheerfulness. As she bent over to reach one of the lower drawers, a flash went off in my mind, reminding me of a pose like one of the photos I had seen. Then she arched her back and reached her hands up, stretching out the morning stiffness, flash, a sexy pose only Hanni could do just right.

Flash again, and I wish I'd had a camera as Hanni reached up to a shelf just a bit too high for a coffee mug, the little yellow sundress riding high enough for me to see the pair of pink lace bottoms she was wearing. Hanni heard me behind her and knew she had been giving me a show, ensuring the cup she wanted was far enough back to prolong my view. As she finally grabbed the mug she wanted, I slid behind her, causing her to shiver just a little at my touch. I gently put my hands on her arms and simply stood there, taking her in.

"Good morning to you too, Y/N," Hanni said seductively.

"When you weren't there this morning, I thought I had dreamt it all up," I complained. I rubbed my hands up and down her arms, and she leaned into me lovingly.

"I considered giving you a little wake-up call," Hanni said, placing her hand gently on my hardening cock over my boxers, "but I figured you might want to rest a bit more. I don't think I've ever been with a guy who lasted that long before."

I couldn't help myself. I slid my hands under the bottom of her dress, intensely moving them over her smooth skin until we came to cup her flawless breasts. Hanni continued massaging me through my shorts, and my cock grew into her palm in response. She reached up and scratched at the back of my head with her free hand. Showing off her yoga flexibility, Hanni turned and arched her back to bring her lips to mine, still facing forward with my hands kneading her luscious mounds.

The feeling of our hands upon each other was so gratifying for both of us that we pushed against each other, Hanni firmly planting her toned ass against my growing member. She stood up a bit on her toes and moved her little bit over my shaft. A few soft and playful bounces against me, and my body was begging for her. My hands continued their worship of her body, one focusing on her squeezable tits and another on her curved hips. I reached for her bottoms while still grasping one of her breasts, rolling her nipple between my thumb and forefinger. We dry-humped each other like that for probably three minutes, our desperation and haste getting the better of us.

Hanni needed me, and she writhed beneath my grasp, her hands prying me closer to her. Her heavy breaths forced themselves out as she tried to keep her tongue locked in a back-and-forth battle with mine. She purred soft moans at me, her hips rotating her lower half around my hardness. I could almost feel the heat of her sex against my boxers, and it snapped me back to reality. I had to be inside this gorgeous playmate now and as much as I could while this sexy little jackpot of luck was within my reach. My sister was the very definition of my lust and love and probably was of any guy she had come across since her first photos were snapped. I reached down between us, hooked my finger on her panties, and began to push her bottoms down, preparing to take her right then and there. We were both aching for it, holding our breath as the material slid down her silky when...

"Hello!" said our mother, opening the front door.

The mug Hanni had been holding dropped from her hand into the sink, shattering, as both Hanni and I scrambled to separate. I slid onto the stool at the island, and Hanni smoothed out her shirt just as my mother rounded the corner and gasped.

"Hanni!" both of us frantically looked around, thinking we had missed something that would give us away, "you didn't tell me you were going to be home!"

I sighed in relief as my mother moved to hug Hanni, and I shook my dad's hand as he followed his wife into the kitchen. I noticed that my father looked across the kitchen instead of at me as I asked about their vacation. His eyes were locked on his little girl, whom he had not seen in months, and I figured he was reacting to the sight before him just as I had when I had first seen Hanni days ago.

"Hanni, don't you think you should be a little more covered around your brother?" asked our father as I poured myself a bowl of cereal.

"Nice to see you too dad," Hanni said with a smile on her face, "besides, it's not like I was looking at me anyway, he's too focused on his food as always."

I immediately looked down into my cereal bowl and shrugged, hoping my dad wouldn't push the issue any further. I wasn't sure I'd be able to keep my cool now that my mom and dad were back and our watchful eyes were upon us.

"I'm sorry, and it's good to see you too, Hanni, and I'm glad you're back," Dad rebounded. Just try to cover up a bit more, okay?"

"Sure Dad," Hanni drew out.

"Leave her alone, honey. She's a grown woman now," said our mom. "Speaking of which, Hanni, you have got to get me on whatever diet you are because you look great!"

As the women chatted, our dad told me that he had left his laptop charger at home and that they could only stay for two days on the boat trip they had planned; ten days was too long for a lawyer such as my father to be out of contact.

"So kids..." started Mom, "we still have the sailboat for eight more days, well seven now, and I think we should all head back to Florida today so we don't waste the money."

I could feel my luck turning from bad to worse. My morning had started with the prospect of fucking the most gorgeous blonde vixen I'd ever known, my sister, and a playboy playmate over the sink before I even ate breakfast, and who knows what the rest of the week could have held in store. I looked over at her. Even with the flowing dress, I could make out her sexy frame, and I couldn't believe I had just been cock-blocked by my parents. Hanni caught me looking at her and made eyes at me to answer my mother.

"I don't know, Mom," I said unenthusiastically. It's kind of short notice. Besides, how could we all fit on the boat, especially with your friends already there?"

"First of all," replied Mom, "I know for a fact you have nothing else to do. Second, this is not just any sailboat; it's built to comfortably fit six. Of course, you'll have to share a room with Hanni, but it's nothing you two haven't done before."

Hanni and I stole a glance, smirking at the double meaning, and we could both feel our luck turning. We knew we couldn't say no to our mother's request, and since Hanni didn't have any photo shoots with playboy scheduled for a few weeks, her tan could certainly use some work before then. (Her work with playboy was still unknown to Hanni's parents and she intended to keep it that way as long as possible.) We had nearly been caught fucking in the kitchen moments before and had planned to do so as often as possible before our parents returned home, but all was not yet lost.

Hours later, we were packed and headed to the airport once again. Hanni and I sat as close as possible in the backseat without looking inappropriate as the car bumbled along. Hanni had to fight off smiles and giggles as I gave her knowing looks, and we chatted with our parents. If we were alone, we wouldn't be able to keep our hands off each other, but in only a few hours, we would have the opportunity once again.

"I'm dying over here," I whispered to my sister as we both exited the vehicle.

"Me too, just a few hours and you can show me just how HARD it is for you." she whispered back and pretended to stumble as she exited the vehicle, pressing her little ass against my yearning cock.

As we made our way through the airport toward our gate, Hanni thought about how things had changed in the few nights since she had returned home. There had never been a shortage of guys begging for her attention, but how she and Y/N had come together had felt so... natural. He was just the kind of guy she was always looking for, caring and cute, but sturdy and down-to earth. All the guys she had met since college and now in her work with Playboy felt so fake to her. They were no different than the TSA officer who joked that she had been randomly selected for a pat down before eye-fucking her and waving her by. She nearly threw herself at me and wrapped her arm around mine when we were both through, she was so disgusted with everyone but me.

Our affection for each other became more manageable now that we had been forced to act appropriately for long enough. The flight to our connection in Nashville was uneventful save the not-so-jokingly references we both made toward joining the 'mile-high club.' We talked the entire flight, interesting and loving conversation that had brought us so close in the first place. Our parents looked across the aisle, happy to see our children getting along so well as Hanni slumbered on my shoulder for the last half-hour before landing.

Unfortunately, as most things usually do, not everything worked out so peachy in Nashville. Due to our short-notice seats, and though we had gotten lucky in Chicago on standby we would not be taking the afternoon flight to Jacksonville as planned. Even though our father could afford it, even the first class seats were sold out, so given the choice to stay the night and take the flight the next evening, we chose instead to rent a car and drive the rest of the way. Nobody was too happy about that, but once again we found themselves shooting down the freeway toward our destination in no time. Always opting for the more luxurious option, our dad had rented a large van with comfy captain's chairs and a large back row.

After we all stopped for dinner, our father announced that he would drive through the night and the rest of the family could sleep unless he needed a replacement. With the sky now completely dark and our mother keeping my father awake in the front seat, I moved toward the front, asking:

"Everything okay up here?"

"You bet. We've got our snacks, and this Cat Stevens special on the radio has put us in a great mood," Mom enthusiastically replied.

"Well, I haven't gotten much sleep from finals this past week so I think I may go pass out on the seat in the back," I said with grogginess in my voice.

"Hey!" fired Hanni, "I wanted that back seat, Y/N."

"You'll just have to share it then, it's plenty big for the two of you," Mom mediated.

I looked back, now realizing what my sister had intentionally done, and saw that naughty grin on her face she'd shown me multiple times since she'd been home. Our father turned the music down in the rear speakers and I made my way toward the back. Hanni quickly followed me, and as I laid down on the large backseat, Hanni took her place in front of me, sliding her sexy frame so that I spooned her ever so slightly.

Mom looked back at her two children; they seemed to be fidgeting a bit to get comfortable in the darkness of the backseat. She could just make out their forms but thought that the seat must have been smaller than she had previously judged.

"Y/N, why don't you be a gentleman? Take one of the blankets and lay on the floor so Hanni can sleep comfortably," she implored me.

"It's okay, Mom, he's a big oaf, but there's enough room for me," Hanni teased. "Oohmphf," she let out just as she was finishing her sentence.

"What's the matter honey," Mom asked upon hearing her daughter's funny noise.

"Nothing mom, just caught a bump back here," she lied.

Truthfully, as Hanni was teasing me to our mother, I had worked my hand to her breast and pinched her nipple solidly over the fabric of her cotton t-shirt. Hanni moistened at the contact and knew we had to be extra careful with our parents in the front. She reached behind her and took hold of my cock with her hand ever so slightly. She could feel me thrust my hips forward at her touch and she wished we were alone so we could both release the intense feelings of desire we had felt for the second time that day.

"You know, I actually wanted to get a little sleep," I said quietly.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, you go ahead," Hanni replied, cutting off all contact and crossing her arms in front of her.

Too turned on by having my fuckable playmate sister curled up in front of me, sleep was now the last thing on my mind. Instead I began to tease my sister by tickling lightly at the backs her crossed arms, trying to break her from her feigned stubbornness. Hanni leaned away as I touched her, trying to sell her act further, but I was not discouraged. I moved my hands down her abdomen and slipped my fingers just under the waist of her athletic shorts. I moved them slowly around the waistband, massaging gently; it was becoming impossible for Hanni not to react. Then I began pushing the shorts down just below her hips, exposing the white cotton panties underneath and the wet patch they held over her sweet quim. As I moved my fingers toward it and felt the spot, I knew she wouldn't be able to hold out for long. I began to push one finger against the puffy lips over her panties.

"Still going to hold out on me?" I challenged her quietly.

"You're the one who wanted the sleep," Hanni said, holding her ground.

But truthfully, Hanni couldn't take it anymore. Y/N was too good; it was as he I knew all her sweet spots as well as she did. She began to gyrate her hips back against me and we were once again spooning firmly against each other. If felt so good to have Hanni back in my arms, and having her mouth-watering cheeks split over my fully hard cock didn't feel so bad either.

Rather than let me continue, Hanni sat up quickly and quietly and reversed her position. Her face was now rather close to my cock, and she wasted no time. She grabbed at my waistband and pushed it down over my cock. I could feel her warm breath on my shaft and nearly shouted as she grabbed a hold of my member and took the tip into her mouth. Not to be outdone, I pushed her shorts and panties down her legs in one move and grabbed her hips in both hands. Simultaneously, we then began to pleasure the other.

I darted my tongue out over Hanni's clit, licking first in broad stokes and then quickly over her little nub. Hanni held back a scream, and may not have if she had not been inching my cock into her mouth at the time. After she worked it in and out about half-way a few times, Hanni sucked gently at my tip and flicked her tongue out over the slit. I was in heaven - and I too began to breathe heavily. Using my fingers while continuing my attack of her clit with my tongue, I reached up and worked a finger inside of her tight little hole. She began bucking at my touch and felt as if she could hardly concentrate on the blow job she so wanted me to enjoy. I continued to lap at her cunny, and Hanni started moving involuntarily; I could feel how strong her core was as her hips bucked in my hands. I sucked her clit into my mouth and pulsed around it as Hanni neared her orgasm, her pussy now getting wetter with each passing second.

Hanni, too, was getting the desired effect out of her efforts; I could barely keep up licking at her with my tongue in between heavy breaths as Hanni's head bobbed over my stiff cock. I had pulled her on top of me by now and placed a blanket over our bodies. The captain's chairs hid our heads from view, but if our parents had flipped the lights on, we would easily be found out. Not to mention that Hanni let out the occasional squeal that was just quiet enough to be drowned out by the radio. I was glad of it because I loved the sweet sounds that Hanni made, letting me know I was doing a good job on her.

"Hanni... Hanni... I'm almost there," I alerted her.

I expected her to release me as I continued stimulating her with my fingers and tongue, but Hanni had no such plans. Seconds away from release, she could feel me unintentionally thrusting toward her, and she took me in as far as I could go, massaging my soft sack with her nimble fingers. Once, twice, a third time,e she slid her luscious lips almost entirely up and down over the length of my cock. On the third, she held me there, and I began to pump my semen into her mouth. I was in heaven, breathing out heavily onto her wet pussy as I shot rope after rope into her throat. Never before had a blowjob made me orgasm so hard. I shuddered as Hanni pressed her lips over my sensitive tip, swallowing and erasing all traces of my release.

But Hanni had been close just before I came, so as she proudly kissed the tip of my member, I picked right back up where I had left off. Hanni was back in no time to her panting and twisting about as I grasped firmly at the soft skin of her ass and began to sink my tongue into her soaked canal. She tasted so sweet, and I held her tight as she involuntarily fought my hold on her because the pleasure was so intense. She was dripping now and had to bury her head in the seat to hide her moans from our parents. I began to fear that they might turn around, but ignored the thought as I sent my sister over the edge. She arched her back, pressing against me as I continued plunging my large tongue in and out of her, making sure to connect with her clit every time. Hanni came hard, and as her eyes rolled backward and her vision went stark white, she was immersed in a warm bath of ecstasy. It flowed over her body forever, and when she finally came to, she had to push my head away from her drenched pussy; even my breath was too much for the sensitivity I had caused her.

She returned to the spooning position, and we lay there with each other. Two lovers lay in a post-orgasmic bliss, unfathomably satisfied and proud.

"I don't think I'm ever going to be able to let you go, Hanni," I spoke to her softly.

"You don't have to," she whispered back. "Besides, I don't know where you learned it, but I've never cum like that from oral in my life, and I'm not about to give that up."

We held each other close, our unknowing parents sitting only a few feet away. Hanni's backside felt so good against my front that I still couldn't imagine sleeping despite the release we had both shared minutes before. Hanni's shorts and panties were still bunched just below her knees, so when my cock started to stir again, it pressed right between the gap between her legs. She was wet as ever, and my shaft slid slowly along her slit as it filled along with my desires.

"No way," Hanni protested, "it's too risky."

But as she resisted me verbally, her body sang another tune. With my hands exploring and massaging the tips of my fingers coming into contact with the sides of her breasts, Hanni once again began to writhe under My attention. I grasped at her body, hands firmly over 32C tits, her perfect, erect nipples poking into my palms. She could distinguish the tip of my cock from my shaft as we both began to gyrate against each other, Hanni still resisting penetration. It was almost animalistic; our bodies moved independently, and we needed each other just as much as we had the first time, only the night before. At some point, Hanni's worries about being discovered by our parents began to dissolve; she could only think of getting Y/N inside her. I hadn't even thought about our parents since I had first had my cock in the playmate's mouth minutes earlier, and I wasn't about to start now. Just as we thrust a final time and pulled away from each other, Hanni reached down between us and pointed my rod at her opening once more. I pushed past her slick folds and into her drenched tunnel, feeling like I belonged nowhere else as her walls clamped down on me.

"Do you two want to stop for something to eat or drink before you fall asleep?" Both the children froze as our mother looked back at them.

With my hard cock now fully inside of her, Hanni could barely think, let alone respond to her mother. It was all the two of us could do just to stop from continuing our incestuous activity without even responding. Hanni's bald pussy pulsed in anticipation, gushing around the invading member and ready for it to begin thrusting in and out of her. With much effort, Hanni managed, "I think I'd rather... oohhh... full at the moment, Mom." I could hear the ecstasy she was feeling in her voice and was now afraid our mother might too, but I gave her a daring little thrust mid-sentence anyway.

Hanni turned her head and looked at me wide-eyed, shocked that I would carelessly jeopardize our secrecy by fucking her as she spoke to our mother. Her big green eyes staring into my only made me want her more, and I pulled slowly out of her and pushed back in again, watching her mouth open, and pupils dilate in response. I couldn't even stop my slow assault on Hanni as she addressed me,

"You too Y/N," my father, Dad asked, "are you too comfortable back there to stop?"

"Yeah, pop, you don't know how good it feels..." I thrust into her again, "being able to get some..." another thrust, "rest finally."

"Alright then, we will see you in the AM," said my father.

Hanni and I were already miles away when our mother turned out the final light in the front, and the only lights came from the dashboard and headlights. We were the only ones on the road, and Hanni and I were in complete darkness. I resumed sliding my cock in and out of my big sister, the heat and feeling of having her tunnel wrapped around me excruciatingly pleasurable. She moved just right, and I relished the feeling of my hands upon her, feeling her strong, sexy body moving in front of me. I kissed her neck and sucked at it, her skin tasted sweet, and I wasn't even surprised. I pulled my cock out of her and held the tip right against her opening. I then prodded slowly at her, pushing into her pussy less than an inch each time. Hanni made a frustrated moan and reached down between us.

"God damn you....uhhh," she let out as I pushed into her just a bit, "just fuck me.... put it in.... fuck......ohh...... you asshole."

I loved what I was doing to her. Her need for me was genuine, and I enjoyed teasing her like this. One more prod and Hanni's patience was gone. She reached down and took a firm grasp of my cock, and pulled it towards her. Her hand wrapped around me felt so good that I lost track of my intentions and started to oblige her. The feeling of being halfway inside my sister and her hand holding onto my other half was like no other feeling in the world. In one last effort, I stopped and held there, grinning.

"If you don't fuck me.....oh god..... right now," Hanni demanded, "I'm going to straddle you.... and ride you right in front of mom and dad."

Happy with the results of my teasing, I gave in to Hanni and thrust the rest of my cock inside her velvety tunnel. I moved slowly at first and began to pick up speed, but Hanni was now panting for her approval. After a minute or so of jamming my pelvis against her soft, grab-able ass, I was now pounding into my sister with passion, and Hanni rotated her hips in earnest to get more of me inside of her. She felt like she had never been filled quite this perfectly and grasped onto my hands, interlocking our fingers as if to tell me.

Now free to move about, the little gymnast in Hanni maneuvered so I lay under her, and she rested atop me, weighing down against my chest as we remained locked together at the hips. I could only make out a little bit of the playmate's body, so I again began to paw at her with my hands. She loved the feeling of my big, strong fingers probing at her, rubbing every inch of her body and squeezing her breasts and ass lightly. Hanni lifted her tiny hips and then sank back down hard on my engorged member. Her mound mashed against me as she did so, and she rotated around a bit upon each meeting to stimulate herself further.

"Y/N... Y/N..." Hanni whispered in my ear with lust thick in her voice.

Her panting into my neck drove me crazy, even more so when she flicked her little tongue over my neck and earlobe. I took hold of her pistoning hips and added to her up-and-down plunging motion by pushing up to meet her. Our lips eventually found each other, and Hanni rubbed a hand through my hair as we explored each other's mouths. Hanni's tongue wrestled mine intensely, mimicking the rhythmic movement of our bodies.

Hanni could feel her orgasm approaching, and she knew it would be a powerful one. The little blonde playmate thought of how taboo it was that she was fucking her little brother and so dangerously close to our parents at that. The thought only served to bring her closer to climax, and Hanni continued to slide up and down on her brother's pole in search of it. She whimpered into my mouth and then released my lips slightly, breathing into them. The soft blows of her breath were stimulating and sensual; I was now close to cumming as well.

"I'm close, Hanni," I warned her.

"Oh my God, me too," my sister managed between thrusts. "Come inside me, please, Y/N... uhhh... come inside."

Her begging brought me so close to release that I held on for dear life so my sister could have time to climax. I didn't have to wait long, three more full strokes into her moist channel, and she was clawing at my back as she began to cum. My body tensed, and Hanni sat down hard on me, impaled and writhing on my cock. Then it hit: my sister and I began to orgasm in unison, clutching each other tight. Jet after jet, I pumped into her, and Hanni bit down on my muscular shoulder to hold back her screams. She could feel herself being filled with my cum, and her pussy only clamped down harder on me to experience it. As I released a torrent inside my sister, I was in absolute bliss, cumming so hard that I pushed into more strongly, seeking further depths in which to spray my incestuous seed. She was mine, and if I was going to mark my territory, I wanted to bury my cum as deep inside her unbelievably tight pussy as I possibly could. Hanni embraced it and shifted to allow me deeper, bucking in time with her heartbeat on my cock. She milked every single drop out of me as waves of ecstasy washed over her. Hanni's soft cries of passion were so sexy I felt like I was once again in a dream. My sister, the playmate of the year, was still climaxing atop me, holding my rod firmly inside of her as she came. I had her until she shuddered for the last time, my cock still too sensitive to move. Hanni relished the feeling of still being filled, and she lay limp atop me, taking deep breaths to recover.

It made me smile to think of how careless we were when making love, casting aside all cares in search of each other. Hanni's tight t-shirt was bunched over her beautiful breasts, and her bottoms had fallen to the ground. She was disheveled as we got up, and we both basked in our post-orgasmic amazement. Suddenly, a light flashed in the cabin, and our mother grabbed water from the package in the middle row. Hanni's shorts and panties were visible on the ground from her seat, and her naked children were a foot away from them. Were it not for the blanket, she would have been able to see my mostly-erect cock still buried inside Hanni, her daughter, fluids from our lovemaking escaping between us. Furthermore, seeing Hanni lying directly atop me would have taken minimal effort. We held our breath and begged that our mother wouldn't discover the hot, incestuous romp that had occurred right behind her.

Sure enough, Mom's eyes moved quickly over the cast-aside bottoms, her brain not making the connection. As she shut off the light, both of her children sighed in relief.

"That was close," I sighed. Hanni only giggled in response.

With that, I teased Hanni with one more little thrust and then slid my softening dick out of her. Hanni grinned naughtily at the action and kissed me firmly. Our tongues played lethargically for a moment before I rolled Hanni off of me. We hugged each other close, my package pressing tenderly against her folds and Hanni's soft breasts against my chest. Making eye contact, we examined each other in satisfied states before drifting off to sleep. We still had days of sharing a room ahead of us, but for now, fucking each other in the backseat of a car driven by our parents seemed enough for a lifetime, or at least until we woke up the following day.

[jjjjisun-deactivated20260131]

My Playmate, My Sister

Hanni X Male Reader | 8566 words

TW: Incest

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Part 1 of My Playmate, My Sister (Part 2)

Buy me a Ko-Fi.

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I'll be honest, growing up with a sister like mine was no cakewalk. It was abundantly clear that my sister, Hanni, was destined for some form of modeling from the moment she started developing her killer body in her early years. All throughout high school she had the attention and longing gazes of every boy, man and even some women there. As I went through my freshman year, lusting after any bit of female I could grasp, I was constantly teased about my senior sister's looks and how much every one of my friends would love to "bang her."

Now I won't lie and say I didn't notice; after all, I was in the peak of my sexual desires too. However, my thoughts never strayed beyond the occasional hope to see her coming out of the shower or undressing in her room. I did get a peek every once in a while, but it was all innocent and never got out of hand. Luckily for me, Hanni was incredibly wholesome and modest about her looks, having a few lucky boyfriends here and there but largely displaying her beauty in tolerable amounts. So even though I had to stare down or ignore someone for the occasional comment about Hanni's "hot ass and tits," I never felt embarrassed by any of her actions.

I suppose I should probably tell you what she really looks like. Aside from a body that looks to be sculpted from marble, she is about 5'3" weighing just over 100 lbs. She has 24" waist and from inspecting some of her more seductive lacey bras in the laundry is done I know her breasts measured a full 32C which I wanted nothing more than to at least any chance I could get. She has the most gorgeous eyes, more green than hazel, framed by a cute, freckled face and tiny chin. To top it all off she has the perfect shade of blonde hair with dark streaks, which she wears in a variety of styles mostly with long bangs swept across her face.

Unfortunately, in high school I was a shrimpy little kid, never really breaking 130 lbs. until my senior year, when I finally came into my own. So when Hanni brought her usual slough of beautiful friends around, I was always just her little brother to them. It didn't matter to Hanni though, she was a bit nerdy like me and was always willing to play a video game or two or watch a movie late at night. She even got me with a few pretty girls if she knew their older sister or invited me to a party she could maneuver me around. She and I got along well, and even though we didn't interact much at school, we have always been good friends. After she went away to college across the country we separated a bit, but whenever we were both together we were thick as thieves.

But things changed for her early in Hanni's Junior year of college. As I walked through a convenience store on my way to the train home from school, I caught the top of a Playboy on the clearance rack behind the counter.

"I'll be damned if that doesn't look just like Hanni's face," I thought, not even realizing what that would mean if it really was her.

I asked for the copy, and after I showed my 19 year-old driver's license to the cashier and a sideways glance, he handed it to me. The photo on the cover, now many months old, was definitely in Playboy's usual style, airbrushed and photo-shopped to an almost unrecognizable degree, but I was 95% certain it was my sister. She was body-painted in the same colors as her college, Oregon State, and displaying what I had always known to be her fan-fucking-tastic form. I had no time to dwell on it, however, as my friends were all waiting so I shoved the Playboy into my backpack, paid and headed outside. I could barely focus on getting to the train and then home, and I don't think I said a word for the whole ride to my stop 30 minutes away.

I was in shock; "would Hanni really do that? She's always been adventurous but this is totally different," I thought.

When I finally got home I made for my room as fast as I could after a quick catch-up on the day with my Mom. As I pulled out the magazine and that's when I knew for sure, the beauty on the front cover was my sister. I thumbed through the pages and opened up to a her spread, not even thinking of the taboo implications. There she was, for all the world to see, and what a sight it was. She was going by the name Hanni Jean Underwood, obviously not the same as our family name. She was every guy's wet dream, clearly the best looking in the entire magazine, and she was my sister. I had to say it in my head a few times before it really set in, and after a cold shower I pulled out my phone and decided to text my sister.

"Hey Hanni, anything new," I wrote.

A few long minutes later, I received:

Hanni: "Nope, nothing really, I'm coming home Friday, a week early for summer, though!,"

Me: "That's cool, is something going on?"

Hanni: "Just felt a little overwhelmed is all."

Me: "Anything you want to talk about?"

Hanni: "We can catch up when I get home in a few days, okay?"

Me: "Sure, I miss you."

Hanni: "Miss you too!"

Soon enough it was Friday and I was nervous to see my big sister so soon after the recent development. I decided to do a little research online, and I wasn't prepared for what I was about to see. A quick search of her name brought a whole bunch of results, at least three photo shoots - all stemming from the fact that she had apparently been crowned playmate of the month in July. I clicked on each gallery and scanned the page, seeing my sister laid out in a bunch of unbelievably sexy poses in all states of undress. I couldn't help it, the pictures were turning me on. I imagined her laid out on the window-bench in my room, looking at me straight in the eye as she pulled her top off, light glancing off her just like it did in the pictures. In my daze I didn't even hear the sound of my sister clamoring up the stairs, and then standing at my open door, seeing clearly what I had found.

"Okay, now I know what that text was about," she said as I clicked out of the browser at the speed of light. "No point in pretending now, we obviously are going to have to talk about this."

I just stared at her, she was different than the last I saw of her about 8 months before that. She was tan, her hair was better than it had ever looked, and she was in the best shape of her life. Even her clothes were thin and more revealing than ever, and after looking at the pictures on my computer, I realized I would never see her the same again.

"Come here and give me a hug first, I've had a long day of travelling," she said with fatigue thick in her voice.

At 19 years old, I was a full 6'0" and taking good care of my body had left me at 180 lbs. with a decent shot with women. I walked up, towering over her now, and she sank into my arms. Maybe it was what I had just seen on the computer, her clothes, or maybe it was something she was doing on purpose, but every part of her seemed to be pressed against me. I could feel the swell of those amazing breasts pressing against my chest, and my hands around her felt a toned backside most girls dreamed of.

"You've really grown," Hanni said, leaning most of her weight into me as she ran her hands innocently over me.

We hadn't seen much of each other the previous summer as she was working (at Hooter's I later learned) near her school in Oregon. That and the 8 or so months of school had given me plenty of time to grow, gaining an inch or two and a ton of manly muscle, if I didn't say so myself.

She moved away from me and looked into my eyes, saying "I need you to be calm about this, and to please not talk to Mom or Dad about it until I'm ready."

Still slightly aroused, I pulled myself together, "Okay, but you have to tell me all about it at least."

She eagerly agreed. We sat in my room, the loving brother half of me paying attention to her story of how she was found in a little Playboy talent search I had seen on the cover of that fateful magazine and how the feedback on her first photos was so good they decided to make her Playmate of the Month. The other half of me could not stop thinking of what I had seen and how this beautiful specimen in front of me could be seen by anybody in the heart-stopping galleries online, and that she was my sister!

"...so what do you say?" I snapped back in. After a short pause she knew I hadn't heard the question.

"I know this is a lot to handle, but let's just do our best to act normally around each other, okay Oppa?"

I agreed of course, and she hopped out of my room, her sculpted little butt swaying a bit as she turned and shot me a slightly mischievous smile.

All things considered, it was pretty normal around the house for the next few days. Our parents were rarely around, busy with their work or fairly hefty social lives, so I didn't have to deal with blurting out our secret to them. Hanni was out visiting friends during the weekend and I was studying for finals, albeit occasionally distracted by the fact that I had a Playboy Playmate living under the same roof. One night as I studied for a relatively easy exam the next day, Hanni came in and we talked for hours, her in tight white tank top and some tiny shorts, teasing me, maybe not so unintentionally, the entire night. She told me she had dropped out a few months ago because things were going so good with Playboy. Then she began to talk about her love life, something that had never really been off limits with us. It was obviously different now to talk about love and relationships and sex, for my mind kept straying to what a man might do with a girl like my sister in the privacy of their own room.

"I can't relate to any of the guys I am meeting, they all are kind of slimy and just want me because of my photos. I miss being with a guy who might actually care about me, and I miss the sex too," she said, blushing and looking down, missing the wide-eyed look I had on my face.

I told her about some of the girls I had dated, and even noted a hint of bitterness as I named a few girls she apparently didn't approve of. She curled up in my arms as we talked through all of the changes in both our lives and we fell asleep together, laying a comfortable distance apart.

When I awoke I felt like a million dollars, warm and cozy and ready to get up and shower before my test. Slowly waking I realized the coziness came from the gorgeous girl I was now tightly spooning and who had wrapped herself around one each of my arms and legs. It was both loving and arousing, and I realized my hand was gently resting in the middle of her perfect chest. I tried to slowly move out of position but she only latched onto me more, pushing my hand further into her soft, cotton-covered breasts. I knew it was only a matter of minutes before I hardened fully and she would easily be able to feel it. That worry disappeared as she closed the space between us and nestled her tight bottom right over my shaft.

"Mmmmmh, good morning Oppa," she said softly, wiggling a bit as she turned her head to look at me.

It was excruciating to resist the urge to thrust forward between her cheeks. There was that suggestive smile again.

"I haven't felt this relaxed in a long time, I am so glad to finally be back," she whispered.

"How long will you be staying? Are you going to have to leave for any more shoots soon?" I asked quietly, trying not to move or address the fact that I was aroused by my sister.

"Actually, there is talk about making me Playmate of the Year, but I don't think I stack up to the competition. Either way, I have another shoot in a few weeks," Hanni said, turning to face me and finally relieving the pressure on my growing problem.

I paused, appearing deep in thought, "Yeah, I wouldn't count on it." I said sarcastically, making a funny face at her as her mouth dropped, insulted.

In mock anger she rolled on top of me, battering my chest with playful blows as she straddled me, both of us laughing as I grabbed her wrists with one arm and tickled her always sensitive sides with the other. As she twisted to avoid my prying fingers, her hips ground lightly down on my still slightly enlarged member, and I could hardly focus on the tickling for all of the pleasure it was causing me.

The wrestling intensified, both of us breathing hard between laughs and feeling her lithe body against mine. Our play continued, and I rolled on top of her, pinning her to the bed with her hands above her head. Her tank top had ridden up by now, revealing a mouth-watering abdomen and her bottoms were scrunched up towards her waist. She panted beneath me and arched her back, trying to push me off of her and once again forcing herself against my engorged cock. Still holding her down I moved my mouth to her abdomen and blew, making a funny sound like I used to when we were just kids. The subtle scent of her body wash and perfume lingered and she squealed as I rubbed the morning whiskers of facial hair on her smooth skin.

Displaying that she had obviously been working out, she somehow gained leverage over me and flipped back on top, her legs interlocked with mine, straddling my thigh. I could swear I felt faint yet rhythmic thrusts against my leg with her nimble frame squashed against my chest. I could feel her warm breath on my ear and she finally sat up raising her arms in victory as I gave up, exhausted. If I hadn't been so entranced with our arousing battle, I might have noticed her nipples standing proudly and entirely visible through the soft cotton of her tank top.

Our horseplay ended, and as I looked up at her with her abdomen and firm breasts heaving from our tussle, I knew then that she would undoubtedly win Playmate of the Year. It was almost as if she read it on my face, because she gave me a little peck on the lips and hopped off, maintaining the innocence our little slumber party had began with. She had the walk of an angel and she once again smiled at me as she bounced out, swinging around the frame of the door and out of sight. I laid there for a few minutes, trying to pull myself together and shake off any further thoughts of the hottest woman I had ever laid eyes on; it was no easy task.

As I worked through my exam, my thoughts occasionally strayed to Hanni, wondering what was going on and if I was out of my mind for thinking of her as any more than a sister. The exam was as easy as I thought it would be, so I finished and returned home early. When I got back my sister was at the fridge, deep in thought, biting on her finger as she always did. Dressed in tiny jean shorts and an oversized football jersey, tied at the waist and hanging slightly over one shoulder, I thought of she now seemed to know exactly what to wear to complement her figure. I scolded myself inwardly for then thinking it would be better if she wore less.

"Oooh, you scared the shit out of me," she said as she jumped and the jersey fell the rest of the way down her shoulder, revealing the strap of a black bra beneath.

I wanted to ravish her on the kitchen table right then and there as she turned her head and cocked her hips, playing at my desires.

"I was just going to make us both lunch, how did your test go?"

I told her about it as I sat at the table and she prepared lunch, slapping my hand away a few times that I reached for some little morsels.

"I've been taking cooking classes," she told me, "It's funny because I'm finally doing all the things I want to do, maybe I wasn't cut out for college anyway."

"You're nuts Hanni," I fired back, "you have always been the smartest girl I know, and are probably still the only female who can beat me in any game on the Xbox.... you're amazing."

She glowed in response to my comment her striking eyes locking onto mine, "I love you so much Oppa."

We ate and chatted about this and that, and I realized that even though Playboy Playmate status had taken her from a hot young girl to a to-die-for image on the page of a magazine, we still got on as well as ever.

"So I was thinking," she interjected, "I've got to go to this club tonight and shake hands with a bunch of the higher-ups of Playboy here, but I don't really want to go alone. They might be a little weirded out if I brought my brother, but do you think you might want to go as my date?"

"I mean, sure, if you think that's okay," I fired back, excited but nervous.

"Of course it is," said Hanni happily, "I'd just love to have someone to hold on to, it can be kind of intimidating considering the nature of the work."

She told me a little more about the night and what was in store, some dancing, some drinking and of course some more playmates - which I obviously couldn't complain about. The rest of the day went on with little consequence, we watched a movie together and caught up on some work individually.

After I had thrown on a nice button-up and dress pants I went and sat on the couch and waited for Hanni, who was never on time. When the doorbell rang and I hopped up to answer it, I was surprised to see a expensive-looking limousine sitting in the driveway.

"We should be going sir, wouldn't want to keep Hanni's employers waiting." said the driver.

Just then, the click of heels on hardwood alerted us that Hanni was finally ready to go. As I looked up I nearly collapsed, and so did the driver. Hanni wore a red, slightly shimmering dress, cut low between her breasts and high on her thighs. Her cleavage was so perfect I could die happy right there, the dress seeming to be holding on to it for dear life. It clung to her form and I couldn't imagine a more beautiful sight. As she gracefully stepped down the stairs in her simple but sexy black heels, the driver struggled for words.

"Good e-evening Miss Underwood, I am d-d-david, your driver for tonight."

Hanni was a good sport and thanked David as we walked out the door. As I took the first step out the door, Hanni stopped me and whispered in my ear, causing a tingle to run through my body,

"I think he saw something he liked."

Not to be outdone, I turned and whispered back, "He wasn't the only one."

She squeezed my hand and after she got in the limo, David, who was holding the door said, "You are a lucky man." I knew I was.

Hanni sat close to me the whole ride there and her presence was intoxicating. The night pretty much went as Hanni had described, we sipped on drinks while meeting a whole bunch of people who pretty much jumped over me to get to Hanni as she answered their questions. When all of the connections were finally made, Hanni dragged me toward the bar and said

"I need a shot or two, I almost couldn't stand it anymore."

I agreed and we both winced back two shots of something that was way above my budget, apparently free of charge. Then came playmate introductions. Some were scattered about the dance floor, others at various bars about the classy establishment. I recognized some from television but most were gorgeous and unknown to me. I did, however, notice that almost every one of them paled in comparison to Hanni.

Hanni dragged me onto the dance floor among the beauties and we were innocently spinning each other around and sharing the occasional close moment as the alcohol began to work its magic. Then, as if in a dream, Jessica Burciaga, a crush of mine with whom I had spent a little time flirting with earlier grabbed me for a dance. The beating music, dark atmosphere and ever-present buzz of the alcohol had me confident and forward as the tanned, Latina beauty pushed against me. She was beginning to really get into it, grinding her hips against mine in away only a fiery girl like her could. I was in another universe, doing what every guy always dreams of, and with her hands on top of mine I felt every inch of my long-standing playmate crush.

I obviously wasn't paying attention to much else because it took me a while to notice that Hanni, who was nearby, had found a guy and was dancing against him too. I tried to disregard the immediate pang of jealousy I felt, but it would not go away. Jessica was now doing her most seductive dancing, pulling my body into hers, our breath heavy upon each other, but it wasn't enough to keep me from stealing a glance at my sister across the way. Her dress was catching the little bit of light on the floor and her body was unfathomably sexy as she moved to the music. Once more I looked, and I saw on her face the same jealousy I had felt. Our eyes locked. We stared at each other as the music seemed to get quieter, and our dance partners continued their movement around us. I knew she wanted to be dancing with me at that moment, and I, with her. At the end of the song we thanked our partners, and Jessica planted a kiss on my lips, slipping a note into my pocket and whispering for me to call her.

I approached Hanni, who was now glaring at me and leaning on the bar a few feet away.

"Looks like somebody is having a good time," she said with a bit of an attitude, "you can take the limo home with her if you want, I'm sure I can get another ride."

"Hanni, don't be like that," I said with the best puppy dog eyes I could muster, "I got carried away, besides, it looks like you and Mr. Hands over there were getting along just fine by yourselves."

She loosened up a bit at that comment and looked at me sideways, smirking, "alright, just promise me at least one dance before the night is up killer," she requested with a sweet look on her face.

"Hanni," I said with a hint of seriousness in my voice, "I don't want to dance with anyone else tonight if that's okay with you."

Instead of voicing her approval, she stood on her toes and planted a kiss right on my lips, holding my head in her hands as she did. It only lingered a second, but I saw stars as she pulled away and motioned to the bartender to make us two seven-and-sevens. She leaned over the bar a bit, and the bartender ogled her cleavage as I, on the other end was helpless to the view of her backside, the red cloth stretched thin over it. I wondered if she was wearing any underwear, "maybe not," I thought mischievously.

We took our first sips silently as she batted her eyelashes at me, somewhat embarrassed from the kiss.

"I hope that wasn't your best effort out on the dance floor Hanni," I said with a hint of arrogance, "I don't think Playboy would like it if they knew their new protégé danced like she was at a junior high mixer."

Hurt, Hanni quickly shot back, "oh and I suppose you would have me shaking my ass like that little tart you were dancing with?"

"I'm not saying I wouldn't like it..." I trailed off.

Hanni quickly set down her drink and grabbed my hand as if to say, "I'm done talking about it, let's dance."

She dragged me deep into the crowd of people; it's amazing how you feel more private when surrounded by thick swells of human beings. At first she just pushed me back, swaying to herself and running her hands seductively up and down her flowing curves. My head spun as I watched and I couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or my hot older sister moving like she was in front of me. Then she approached me and I wrapped my arms gently around her, careful not to break the rhythmic surging of her body. I began to move with her, running my hands more daringly around her, and I heard a quiet moan into my neck.

She gracefully grabbed my arms and spun herself around, facing away from me and keeping herself enveloped in my grasp. Her style was entirely different from Jessica's, and I couldn't get enough. I savored the feeling of her petite form against mine as she ground he firm ass slowly against me. There was no question why dancing like this had become so popular, her undulations and grinding aroused me more than if she had instead turned and grasped my shaft with her nimble little hands herself. I was no amateur myself, and I moved easily behind her, touching her in all the right places, proud to see many people watching us dance so well together.

We were lost in each other, our heads buzzing from perhaps one too many drinks. I buried my head in her fragrant blonde hair, blowing softly on her neck - a move I had successfully used in the past. We were both so aroused about the fact that nobody knew our true relation that we nearly forgot it ourselves. She leaned back and looked deep into my eyes, my gaze confirming that I felt as strongly as she did. As she turned her head I boldly pressed my lips against hers, tasting a hint of cherry on her lips. I was not entirely surprised when she opened her lips a bit, and her tongue darted out to touch my mine. We broke the kiss about as soon as it started - locking our eyes together as she turned toward me and hugged her close once more.

Then after a few seconds that felt like hours, we ended our pause and were making out like a couple of teenagers. She jumped gracefully into my strong arms and we battled our tongues to see who could display the stronger desire. We were hidden from the outside world by the surging crowd but I could swear our passion caused a good number of couples around us to start engaging in the same activity.

After we were both out of breath and tired of pounding music, we broke our kiss and I said with a witty smile, "what do you think about getting out of here and going back to my place?"

She showed me that beautiful smile of hers and grabbed my hand once again, dragging me outside. I held her in my arms as we waited for the limo, and once inside we made sure the divider was up and she jumped in my lap like there was no time to lose.

Now that we had room to move about our kisses were practiced and still overflowing with desire. She thrust gently against me as I ran my hands up and down her sides, then lightly resting them against the breasts I had so dreamed of seeing. I ran my fingers in circles around her nipples which were protruding stiffly through her red dress. She moaned into my mouth and continued grinding herself against me as she straddled my lap. Not wanting her to do all the work, I gently laid her tiny frame down on the seat and hovered over her.

I teased her, putting my lips just millimeters away from hers and as she snapped up to try and lock hers to mine, I pulled away, concentrating on my hands moving firmly from her legs all the way up to her face. When they reached their destination, I grasped her neck and finally locked lips once again, this time lightly pressing my leg between her thighs. She moaned enthusiastically, barely able to maintain the kiss as I pressed hard and then eased over and over. My fingers moved just below the fabric next to her generous cleavage, wishing my hands were unhindered by the dress. She swelled back against my leg and I continued to massage her body and breasts. Just as she took a deep breath in anticipation of impending orgasm, there was a knock on our tinted window and we realized we had been stopped for some time. I looked down at Hanni and collapsed, both of us laughing at how our arousal had caused us to lose all track of time.

"Not fair," Hanni said, gasping and visibly pissed to be withheld what would have been a fantastic orgasm.

I pulled her up, also unhappy to be leaving the privacy and comfort of the limousine's cabin.

As we left vehicle, the driver said "Goodnight to you Miss Underwood, and to you too sir," giving me a knowing look.

Hanni was none the wiser as she sauntered toward the door, still moping about her suspended pleasure. I thanked the lucky stars that my parents were spending the weekend on a sailboat with friends and I would have the house, and Hanni, all to myself.

When we finally got inside and I shut the door, Hanni pushed my body against it softly with her own.

I looked at her and started in a concerned tone, "Hanni..."

But Hanni put her finger over my lips and stopped me, saying, "I want this, and I know you do too. I am your older sister, I can make my own decisions. Yes, this is technically against the rules, but so is looking at those pictures of me online little brother."

I thought about it for a second, "You've made a few good points."

"Now," she said, a little more demanding than I am used to, "I am going to go upstairs, and if you know what's good for you, I suggest you grab us something to drink, preferably without alcohol, and follow me up in five minutes."

With that, she turned and headed up the stairs without looking back.

I was stunned, and more than a little turned on. My sister had never been so forward in her whole life, but I loved the new her. I grabbed two waters and stood at the counter in the kitchen, taking hold of reality and reveling in how lucky I was. I knew that when I walked up those stairs, I would be spending the night with the most beautiful girl I'd probably ever come across, let alone my sister and a Playboy Playmate unlike any other. With that, I knew that there was no decision to make and my feet took me up the stairs like they had a mind of their own.

Taking a drink, I opened the door and for the second time that night, my sister blew me away. She had been under the covers, but as I opened the door she sat up and proudly showed off her full form. I literally spit out the water I had just drank as I took her in; she giggled, flattered at the reaction. She was wearing a slightly transparent magenta lace bra, which pushed up her ample breasts ever so slightly. Her bottoms were a simple but sexy black cotton that I couldn't wait to rip off.

She motioned to me and said "Come here;"

I walked to the edge of the bed. She crawled on all fours at me like a jungle cat, and equally as graceful. As she came eye to eye with me she took one of the bottles from my hand, opening it and taking a quick drink. She capped it and dropped it nonchalantly to the side, the glistening water still on her lips. She then gave me a slow and sultry kiss, once again holding my head in her hands; I could taste the cool water on her lips.

I placed a knee on the bed and pulled her close to me, once again beginning to slide our tongues against the other. I tried to go as slowly as possible as I laid her down and continued to kiss her deeply, but how could you blame me, with all the skin to explore my hands moved on their own. Up and down they travelled, not wanting to leave an inch of her body unexplored. I kissed her neck as I massaged all over her, and she once again began to pant into my ear, quickly nibbling at it. I couldn't believe how exciting it was to feel her move strongly against me, arching her back and thrusting her hips out to meet mine. My hands cupped her round cheeks and gave them a squeeze; I could feel her smile as we kissed.

My hands finally finished their journey, and one of them moved to the clasp in her bra. I had never been too good at removing a bra, but tonight, I was so hot with luck that I did it in one fluid motion. The fabric loosened, and I slowly walked my fingers along the patterned lace. She loved how much attention I was paying to each part of her; she had thought hard about what to wear for me. I pulled back from her face and looked into her eyes before I knew I'd finally have her naked body before me. The soft glow of the lamp nearby upon her made her all the more beautiful.

"Oppa...I..." she started, but this time it was my turn to quiet her, with a kiss.

She was about to tell me how much she wanted me, how happy I made her, but I already knew, and she let out a breath in relief as I acknowledged it with my kiss.

I ran my hand up one of her arms and placed it above her head, and doing the same with the other I joined them, restraining her harmlessly. With my free hand I gingerly moved her bra up her arms and covered her with my body, pulling it over her head and tossing it to the side. She nipped at my lip and caught me off guard, freeing her hands and allowing her to reach for my shirt and nimbly unbutton it faster than I could have myself. She pushed it down my shoulders and off and I kissed her once again, our partial nakedness adding fervor to our efforts.

I finally wrapped my hands over her breasts, one at a time, playing with it slowly and beginning to breathe heavily myself in arousal. I thumbed her nipples and found that she was extremely sensitive there, because her moans became more frequent into my mouth and neck. We both moved our hips against each other in unison, mimicking the action we both so desired to get to, but I wanted anything but to rush things. She on the other hand, had already begun removing my belt and unbuttoning my pants, and in no time, she was wrapping her legs around my pelvis and impressively removing my pants mostly with her feet.

I could feel her pussy wet against my thigh, and our new proximity caused me to resume the pressure that had been so effective in the limo. I once again had her humping at my leg, becoming wetter with each push. I replaced my thigh with two of my fingers, rubbing softly but surely against her lips and clit. She squealed in pleasure and dug her nails lightly into my back. She was so close to orgasm she could barely stand it, and as I drank her in I couldn't fathom that a girl could be any sexier. My older sister was beneath me, begging for my touch, both of us wanting each other more than we had ever wanted someone before.

As I continued my ministrations, I slipped my fingers beneath the cotton of her panties, finding her mound baby smooth and slick with her desire. Being the consummate teaser that I am, I continued to keep her at the peak of her pleasure without pushing her over. She was frustrated, and she began to grab at my cock through my boxer shorts. She moved her dexterous fingers over it, allowing me to savor the feeling and the cotton between them. Then, just as I had done, she moved her hands underneath my boxers and grabbed me firmly, shuddering occasionally from my own onslaught of her smooth quim. She brushed her fingers up and down over my shaft, lightly touching the tip and rubbing the pre-cum over it.

"Please...please....oh...Oppa," she begged into my ear as I continued to rub against her clit and eased one finger, and then two, slowly into her wet pussy.

In and out I moved them gently, feeling how tight she was, but only enough to keep her bucking her hips at my touch and begging for release.

She once more grasped my cock, not even able to wrap her small hand around it and pushed her other hand against my chest.

"I want you, no... I need you...inside me," she pleaded.

Now I may have been teasing her, but the entire time I could do little more than think about how fantastic if was going to feel to finally be inside my gorgeous playmate sister. I kissed down her neck, not failing to stop at each of her breasts and lick tenderly at each hard nipple, hearing her moan in return. As I continued I kissed at her tight abs, belly-button and then looked up at her, smiling as I pulled her panties down the first few inches with my teeth. She managed a smile through her sighs of passion and I finished taking off her cute little black bottoms the rest of the way with my hands. Me standing at the foot of the bed, she reached out with her toe and grabbed the elastic band of my shorts, pushing it down, showing me what she wanted. I took them off in one fluid motion and when I looked up she was using both hands to make a 'come hither' motion at me.

As I slid up her body, feeling our skin rub lightly against each other, I knew this was it. We stared lustfully and longingly into each other's eyes and I could feel my fully enlarged shaft pressing directly between her soaked folds. We kissed once more, a kiss so deep and meaningful that only a brother and a sister could share, and I gazed upon her stunning features.

"Are you sure this is what you want? I know I do, but I want you to be sure," I said, and I meant it.

She pulled me close and, still panting, spoke a breathy "Yes...fuck me...please."

She reached between us and gently pointed me directly towards her, placing the tip right at her entrance. With one hand, she pulled at my back, encouraging me to move inside of her. I did as instructed, but as if in one last effort to tease, I pushed only a bit of my tip inside of her before pulling it back out. The feeling alone was unbearably good, and I had hardly entered her yet.

This time she demandingly breathed, " Oppa," strongly, "Fuck me."

With that, I began to press into her. We both gasped into each other's necks as I slid in, inch by inch. I stopped briefly for her to adjust to my sizable cock, and pulled out a bit, causing us both to hold our breath at the feeling. Finally I made one final thrust, and our hips touched together as we joined in a passionate kiss. We were both smiling from ear to ear at the sheer bliss we were experiencing. She pawed at me, fidgeting at the intense pleasure I was giving her.

I could have stayed locked together like that forever, but we both began, slowly at first, to rock against each other. We stayed pressed together as my cock slid further and further, in and out of her impossibly tight tunnel. I began to lose focus on the kisses we had been sharing and was unable to do anything but grasp at her hips with one hand and support myself with the other. Her moans came almost every other breath now, a sound so soft and sweet I wished they would never stop.

"Oh...oh...Oppa...Oppa," she gasped into my ear.

"Hanni...Hanni...you feel...so....fucking....good," I whispered back.

We were moving as one, two bodies locked in a passion for each other so strong nothing could not stop us. She then wrapped her legs around me, grabbing at me with her heels and pulling me deeper. I continued to thrust in and out, and she pushed in perfect time back toward me, grinding her clit against me every chance she could. We pushed hard enough each time that I could see her breasts, possibly my favorite feature, bouncing a bit at each stroke, still sizable even as she lay on her back. She began to squeal just a bit now with each breath, a pitch that just barely came through with each breathy moan. Finally, the orgasm I had deprived her of for so long came and she tensed up, grabbing me with impressive strength as I kept moving in and out of her, her pussy pummeling my cock with its contractions as she came for what seemed like minutes. She continued to moisten and I continued to thrust, not allowing or wanting her to come down from her climax. I couldn't believe it, I still had time to go, and though I could probably have made myself climax at any second, my body seemed determined to let me continue my enjoyment of the amazing playmate, my sister, before me.

She finally began to come down from her orgasm, and pulled me tight against her.

"Don't move.. I can't handle it... I need a moment," she managed to say.

I observed her in her post-orgasmic glow and once again had time to marvel at my luck.

"Tell me when," I challenged her.

A few slow, controlled breaths and, as if encouraged by my dare she said with all the strength she could muster "when."

With that, she flipped on top of me as she had done so many times before, without removing herself from our incestuous connection. I could tell that she was still sensitive from her first orgasm but after a few seconds she began to move her toned core in the most seductive motion. She flexed and relaxed her abs, working me in and out of her soaked pussy like a piston around a camshaft. She smiled as she saw my eyes roll back, astounded at her ability. I firmly grasped her body, feeling it move and moving with it, my hands free to do whatever they pleased. I took her breasts in my hands, cupping them and feeling their weight and wonderful softness. She leaned into me, still moving her hips so smoothly up and down on my cock. I thrust up meet her downward movements, us now face to face and joining again in a lustful kiss. I felt myself closer to orgasm but fought it away, I couldn't give in just yet. Hanni on the other hand was not quite close, I could see her face change just a bit with each up and down thrust, and you should have seen it as I moved my thumb to her clit. As I rubbed at her little button she smiled again against my mouth and moaned my name:

"Oppa...fuck....Oppa....oh God."

Encouraged, I scooped her up, moving to the edge of the bed still inside her and could feel us both pulsing now that the thrusts had momentarily stopped. I looked around for something to set her on and found the that padded bay window across from my bed to be the perfect place. I stood up, but always wanting to try it, and her light body the perfect size, we began to fuck standing up. I grasped her ass tightly in my hands and she wrapped her legs around me. We adjusted to the position and for a minute or two were once again lost in our passion as I fucked her, the sexy little minx that she was, as well as I could. Holding her weight distracted me from my own not-so-far-off orgasm and I plunged into her again and again, seeing that she was enjoying it too. The feeling was like no other, having her wrapped securely around me, suspended in the air and still enjoying the heat of her sex sliding up and down my shaft. I savored it, her breasts pushing against my chest so I could feel her teasing nipples and each breath.

"Fuck...fuck...fuck me...Oppa... fuck your sister... Fuck you're big...shit...shit...Ohmygod."

I was so turned on by the dirty mouth she got as I fucked her, she never spoken like that before, and I began to pound her harder. Her moans got louder in approval as I pounded at her and her little hole nearly dripped in enjoyment.

Finally I moved with her still impaled on my cock over to the window, set her down, and looked her right in the eyes as I pulled out just past the tip and then began to thrust back into her slowly. Our looks both shouted that we loved and wanted each other so badly. My cock fit perfectly inside my sister's tight little pussy. I knew my orgasm was coming, and I could tell by the look in her eyes that hers was too. She looked back at me, pleading with me to keep going, and we both watched between us as my cock disappeared inside her again and again. The pleasure was agonizing and we never wanted it to end.

Each stroke brought us closer to our impending climaxes and I looked over her body one final time. She was just barely glistening with sweat and her face was flushed. Her chest, and firm breasts with it was heaving with each moan. She once again pulled me into her with her legs, and used one hand to bring my face to hers. I brushed the hair from her face and grasped her hips with my other hand. We were oblivious to anything else now but the sensation of her wet tunnel grasping at my cock. We alternated between quick, fulfilling strokes to slow and pleasurable ones where we held our breath for an entire thrust.

We ground against each other, feeling our bodies pressed together and our tongues dancing drunk with lust, and we were both seconds away from release. For a few strokes we looked deep into each other's eyes, wanting to see the other pushed over the edge. I pulled out one final time and Hanni's teary eyes begged for that one final advance. As I thrust into her, she screamed aloud, and I nearly blacked out as I began releasing inside of her. Her walls contracted around me, flowing with fluids and I pumped my seed again and again into her, trying to thrust in deeper as I did. She was clutching at any part of me she could with her hands, unable to breathe until her orgasm began to fade. Her legs held me inside of her, and I could think of absolutely nothing as a wave of such intensity washed over me that I went temporarily blind. Hanni quivered again and again as her own orgasm rendered her limp in my arms. Her pussy squeezed the last bit out of me and we both held each other, speechless for who knows how long.

I began to pull myself from her and the tenderness of our lovemaking made it almost impossible to move without both of us trembling at the feeling. As I finally moved completely out of her, we both felt an intense emptiness, which I remedied by quickly laying her down in the window and sliding in behind her. I held her tight as we spooned on the cushions, every sense heightened, and our desires for each other stronger than ever.

We lay like that for a long time, just feeling each other breathe, still unable to form words or thoughts at what had just transpired. All I knew was that I had just had the experience of a lifetime, and I wanted it to last as long as it possibly could. As if reading my mind, Hanni finally managed,

"I can't believe what you just did to me, that was...." I was hanging on her every word, "fucking incredible," she finished.

We both smiled at her phrasing, and I knew she felt the same as me.

"I love you so much Hanni, and that was the best thing that will ever happen to me," I said back, knowing that words really couldn't describe fully how I felt.

Hanni turned to me with a look on her face I didn't understand, "best thing that will ever happen to you, Oppa?" she questioned. "What about next time?"

...to be continued