#red lights

[xx-aesthetic-attractive]

[recklesscakeuu]

red lights

★ synopsis yeonjun always drives with one hand—casual, confident, like the road belongs to him. but tonight, when jealousy burns hot after a late-night pickup and the passenger seat turns into something far more dangerous, that single hand on the wheel becomes his last thread of control.

★ pairing: jealous boyfriend!yeonjun x fem!reader

★ genre: smut (18+ mdni!) with a tiny bit of plot, established relationship

★ status | word count: completed | 4.2k

★ song reco: jealous - nick jonas

★ ao3: red lights

note: it seems a lot really liked the first yj post i did with this genre so i tried it out again using a different pov! thanks to everyone who read it and left hearts <33 this one is inspired by all the yeonjun driving clips ive seen especially that one vlog where he was driving using one hand with taehyun as his passenger princess lmao enjoy <3

The building's underground parking lot was dim and quiet when Yeonjun pulled up, engine idling low.

You slid into the passenger seat still carrying the faint scent of stage makeup and hairspray, hoodie zipped halfway, legs already restless from too many hours of schedules.

He didn’t say anything at first—just reached over, buckled your seatbelt for you with that automatic tenderness he never quite shook, even when he was pissed. The silence stretched until you were out on the main road, city lights sliding across the blacked-out windows.

Then, Yeonjun spoke, voice tight, knuckles white on the steering wheel. “He knows you’re mine. Everyone fucking knows.” His jaw ticked. “The whole industry knows and yet he still stands there batting his lashes, calling you ‘baby girl’ like it’s a joke we’re all in on. Like I’m not the one who takes you home every night.”

You exhaled through your nose, staring at the passing taillights. “Chan's like that with literally everyone, Jun. You’ve seen him do it to half the female trainees, the makeup noonas, even Felix when he’s feeling extra dramatic. It’s just... Chan.”

Yeonjun’s laugh was short and bitter. “Yeah? He doesn’t look at them the way he looks at you.” He flicked the turn signal harder than necessary. “Doesn’t lean in that close. Doesn’t drop his voice like he’s telling you a secret meant only for your ears.”

You didn’t argue. Instead you reached over, caught his right hand where it rested on the gear shift, and lifted it to your mouth. The first slow drag of your tongue along the length of his middle finger made his breath hitch audibly. You sealed your lips around the tip, sucked lightly, then kissed the center of his palm—open-mouthed, taking all the time in the world.

His fingers twitched against your tongue. “Baby—”

You didn’t let him finish.

You guided his hand down, under the hem of your hoodie, over the soft cotton of your shirt until his palm cupped the swell of your breast. You pressed him there, letting him feel the stiff peak already pushing against the fabric. Then you dragged lower. Past the elastic of your sweatpants, under the damp lace of your panties. When his fingertips brushed bare, slick folds, he froze.

“Fuck,” he breathed, so low it was almost lost under the hum of the engine.

You tilted your hips, dragging yourself along his curled fingers. “Only you do this to me,” you whispered, voice husky. “Just listening to you get all possessive and jealous... that’s enough.”

Yeonjun’s gaze darted between the road and your lap. “I’m driving.”

“You always drive one-handed anyway.” You curled your fingers around his wrist and rocked forward, coating his hand in the evidence of how much his rant had affected you. “See?”

A car honked somewhere behind you because he apparently drifted half a lane. He cursed under his breath and jerked the wheel to correct. “Jesus—baby, stop. I can’t—”

You didn’t stop.

Instead you hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your sweatpants and shoved them down your thighs, bunched just above your knees.

You spread your legs as wide as the seat would allow, one foot braced on the edge of the dashboard, the other pressing against the center console—opening yourself completely to the dim glow filtering through the tinted glass.

The rich, distinct scent of your arousal immediately filled the car as Yeonjun inhaled sharply through his nose, nostrils flaring as his chest rose hard, making his pupils dilate further even as he kept his eyes glued to the dark stretch of road ahead.

“Fucking hell… thank god the windows are tinted,” he muttered, voice gruff and strained. “One wrong glance from the next car over and they’d see exactly how soaked you are for me right now.”

You moaned—soft, needy, the sound slipping out like liquid heat—when you finally guided his slack hand back in between your thighs.

You hooked his fingers on the damp lace of your panties before you pushed it to the side, the fabric catching briefly on your swollen folds before sliding away with a faint, wet drag. The moment his warm palm met bare skin again, you ground down hard against his knuckles.

The friction was devastating.

Rougher than your own fingers ever managed, scraping deliciously along your slick entrance, the heat of him seeping straight into your core. You could feel every ridge, every subtle flex of tendon as you rocked forward, coating his skin in a fresh, glossy layer of your arousal.

He tried to pull away once, forearm tensing under your grip.

“We’re gonna crash,” he gritted out, voice strained, almost pleading.

You clamped both hands around his wrist, nails digging into the soft skin just below his watch strap, and held him exactly where you wanted him.

Your hips rolled in slow, filthy circles—deliberate, obscene—dragging your clit along the prominent knuckle of his middle finger until sparks danced behind your closed lids.

“Then drive careful,” you breathed, the words dissolving into another low, trembling moan.

A red light flared ahead, bathing the dashboard in crimson. The car rolled to a smooth, reluctant stop.

For three long heartbeats, silence swallowed everything except the wet, rhythmic slide of your hips against his unmoving hand and the shallow rasp of his breathing.

Then, Yeonjun exhaled roughly through clenched teeth—a sound that was half curse, half surrender. He shifted in the driver’s seat, leather creaking under him, twisting his torso just enough to angle his wrist at a sharper, more devastating angle.

And finally—finally—he gave in.

Two fingers plunged inside you without warning, thick and unyielding, stretching your soaked walls in one smooth, ruthless glide.

The sudden fullness punched the air from your lungs; your back arched hard against the seatbelt, head thumping back against the headrest. He curled them immediately—deep, practiced hooks that dragged along the spongy front wall with brutal precision, fingertips pressing right against that spot that made your vision white out at the edges. His thumb found your clit at the same moment—already throbbing, slick, hypersensitive—and circled once. Hard.

Your head fell back against the seat with a choked moan. “Fuck—yes—Jun—"

He didn’t look at you.

One glance at your flushed face, your parted lips, the way your chest heaved under the shoved-up fabric, and he knew every last scrap of control would evaporate. So his eyes stayed locked on the red glow ahead, jaw clenched so hard the muscle in his cheek ticked visibly under the passing streetlights.

But his hand never faltered as he worked you ruthlessly—deep, steady pumps, thumb flicking faster every time your hips jerked.

You shoved your hoodie and shirt up in one frantic motion, exposing your breasts to the cool blast of the AC vents. The sudden chill pebbled your nipples instantly; they ached, stiff and begging. Your own hands flew to them—cupping the soft weight first, then pinching the peaks between thumb and forefinger, rolling them hard.

Sharp pleasure-pain shot straight to your core as your walls clenched violently around his invading fingers, vibrating in frantic little pulses that dragged a low, jarring groan from deep in Yeonjun’s chest. He stole the quickest glance—barely a second—eyes so dark the pupils had swallowed the irises entirely.

“Goddamn it,” he rasped, voice gravel-rough and fraying. “Look at you. Tits out, pinching yourself like that while I finger-fuck you in the middle of traffic. Can’t even wait till we get home, can you? So fucking desperate for it.”

The light turned green but he didn’t take his hand away. 

He drove one-handed through the intersection, left palm steady on the wheel, right wrist angled awkwardly but never stopping. Every subtle shift of the steering—every small correction—ground the heel of his hand harder against your swollen clit.

Your moans turned breathy, ragged—high little keens that fogged the passenger window in uneven bursts. The car rocked faintly with the rhythm of your hips grinding down onto his hand; the seatbelt dug into your shoulder, a thin line of restraint against the chaos building low in your belly.

“Faster,” you begged, voice cracking. “Jun—please—harder—”

He swore again, thick and wrecked, and sped up—brutal now, wet sounds loud enough to drown out the low purr of the engine. Your thighs trembled, stomach clenching, breath coming in short, desperate pants. 

When you came, it hit hard and sudden—back arching off the leather, a broken cry tearing out of your throat as you pulsed around his fingers, slick coating his palm, dripping down the inside of your thigh, through your uselessly soaked panties and onto the seat. 

He kept moving through it, drawing it out until you were whimpering, oversensitive, thighs shaking. Only when your hand weakly pushed at his wrist did he finally ease out, fingers glistening.

You didn’t give him time to recover.

Still panting, chest heaving, skin fever-hot and slick with sweat—you flicked the seatbelt buckle open with a soft metallic click. You climbed over the center console in one clumsy, desperate scramble, knees digging into the edge of the passenger seat for leverage, thighs straddling his right leg. Your panties, soaked from your orgasm brushed the rough cotton of his sweatpants and left a dark, wet smear across his thigh.

“Baby—what the—”

You didn’t answer and just yanked at the drawstring of his sweatpants, tugged the waistband down enough to free him. He was already hard—painfully so—tip flushed dark and leaking. Your fingers wrapped around him, slick from your own release, and stroked once from base to tip. 

Yeonjun’s head thudded back against the headrest. “Fuck—fuck—fuck—”

His voice cracked, half-warning, half-plea. The car gave the tiniest swerve; he corrected it instantly, jaw clenched so hard you could see the muscle jump under his skin.

You ignored him.

Fingers found the drawstring of his sweatpants, yanked it loose with a sharp tug. The elastic gave way easily; you shoved the waistband down just far enough. His cock sprang free—thick, flushed an angry dark pink at the head, already glistening with precum that beaded at the slit and slid slowly down the underside in a lazy, shining trail.

Your hand—still slick and warm from where you’d come all over his fingers—wrapped around him. Base to tip in one long, slow drag. Your palm glided over velvet skin stretched tight, veins pulsing under your grip. You twisted lightly at the head, thumb swiping through the slickness there, spreading it until every stroke made a soft, wet schlick sound that was louder than the tires on asphalt.

Yeonjun’s head thudded back against the headrest with a dull thump. A string of broken curses spilled from his lips.

“Fuck—shit—fuck—” each one rougher, more ragged than the last. His hips jerked up into your fist on instinct; the car lurched forward half a meter before he stamped the accelerator to steady it again.

You leaned in close, breasts brushing his chest through your thin hoodie, nipples hard and aching against the fabric. Your lips grazed the shell of his ear—hot breath fanning over the sensitive skin there.

“Keep driving,” you whispered, voice low and wrecked, lips catching on the tiny silver hoop in his lobe. “Don’t stop.”

He sucked in a sharp breath as you pumped him teasingly slow at first—then faster, matching the rhythm he’d used on you moments earlier. Every time he hissed or cursed you squeezed a little tighter, thumb swiping over the slit to spread the bead of precum there. A car passed on the left; Yeonjun’s grip on the wheel turned brutal.

“You're gonna make me wreck us,” he growled, but he didn’t push your hand away.

You smiled against his neck, teeth grazing skin. “Then pull over.”

He didn’t.

Not yet.

The city lights blurred past in streaks of red and gold, but Yeonjun’s focus had long since fractured and by the next red light—he used both hands as one tangled in your hair, yanking your mouth to his in a messy, desperate kiss while the other cupped your face roughly. 

You kept stroking him through it—harder, faster—until his hips were stuttering, breath ragged against your lips, curses muffled against your tongue until you pulled back slowly, lips glistening and swollen as a thin, glistening thread of saliva stretched between your mouths before it snapped the moment the light turned green, Yeonjun panting as one of his hands returned to the wheel.

You continued to jerk him off with the same filthy rhythm he’d used to wreck you minutes earlier. Every upward stroke dragged a low hiss from between his teeth; every twist at the head made his hips jerk involuntarily against the seat. He was leaking steadily now, your palm gliding through it, making obscene wet sounds that mixed with the low growl of the engine.

“Baby—shit—slow the fuck down,” he rasped, voice splintering, barely audible over the blood pounding in your ears.

The plea was useless. You only squeezed harder at the base—firm, possessive—then dragged your thumb in slow, deliberate circles over the slit, spreading the glossy bead of precum until your entire palm glistened and slid with obscene ease.

Then, you shifted. 

You leaned down, hair spilling over his thigh, breath hot against the sensitive skin just below the head. One teasing flick of your tongue—flat, slow, dragging from just below the ridge all the way up to collect that bead. The taste burst sharp and bitter-salty across your tastebuds; you hummed low in your throat at the flavor of him, letting the vibration rumble straight down his length.

Yeonjun’s entire body locked.

“Fuck—baby, don’t—” His voice cracked, frayed at the edges, barely louder than the blood roaring in your ears. “I’m still driving—fuck—don’t you dare—”

Too late.

You took him into your mouth in one slow, intentional slide. The heat, the wet suction, the way your tongue flattened along the underside and curled—it shattered whatever thread of restraint he’d been clinging to. 

A throaty curse tore out of him, raw and broken as his free hand shot to the back of your head, gripping hard enough that you felt every tremor in his fingers.

“That’s it,” he rasped, voice wrecked. “That’s fucking it—I can’t—I can’t drive like this.”

The car swerved slightly as he jerked the wheel toward the shoulder of the road but you didn't stop. Your mouth stayed locked around him, cheeks hollowed, tongue pressing flat along the throbbing underside while you sucked harder, wetter, sloppier. Spit dripped down his shaft in warm rivulets, pooling at the base, soaking into the dark fabric bunched around his hips.

Tires bit gravel, the vehicle lurched once before he slammed on the brakes and killed the engine in one rough motion. The sudden silence was deafening—only your wet, sloppy sounds and his ragged breathing filling the dark interior. 

He was shaking.

“Fuck, I tried,” he growled, fingers tightening in your hair until your scalp burned with sweet, stinging pleasure, tiny sparks dancing behind your eyelids. “I tried so fucking hard to be the responsible one tonight. Keep it together. Get us home. But you—” His voice cracked on a bitter, breathless laugh. “You just had to keep going, didn’t you? Had to push and push until I fucking snapped.”

He didn’t give you time to answer. Didn’t even give you the chance to pull off him completely.

Strong, calloused hands roughened from endless hours of training slid under your arms. He hauled you up in one brutal motion, forcibly dragging your mouth off his cock with a wet, obscene pop. A thick string of saliva and precum stretched between your swollen lips and the glistening head before it snapped, landing in a warm, sticky line across your chin.

You barely had time to gasp before he was dragging you fully into his lap, knees straddling his hips, chest pressed flush to his. Your sweatpants were already halfway down your calves but he didn’t bother pulling them off all the way. His hands went straight for the waistband of your ruined panties—black lace, once delicate, now dark and sodden, plastered obscenely to your swollen folds like a second skin.

He hooked two fingers under the front panel and paused—just long enough for you to feel the heat of his knuckles brushing your mound, the faint tremor in his grip.

Then he yanked upward.

Hard.

So hard that the thin strip of fabric dug into your slit like a cruel harness, the lace sawing roughly against your oversensitive clit. The sudden, sharp pressure made your hips jerk forward on instinct, a broken moan ripping from your throat as your nails dug into his shoulders.

Yeonjun’s eyes were black, pupils blown wide, watching every twitch of your face like he was memorizing it. “Yeah?” he muttered, voice low and dangerous. “You like that, huh? Like it when I make it hurt just a little?”

He tugged again—slower this time, deliberate—dragging the soaked lace up and down your slit in tight, punishing little pulls. Each upward yank rubbed the rough texture directly over your clit, forcing fresh slick to leak out and darken the fabric even more.

Your thighs trembled violently around his hips; your breath came in short, desperate pants. “Jun—please—”

“Please what, baby?” He twisted his wrist, making the lace bite deeper into your folds.

You couldn’t answer—could only whimper and rock forward, chasing the brutal friction.

He gave one last, vicious yank—hard enough that you felt the seams strain and then give with a soft, final rip. The panties tore away completely, leaving angry red marks etched across the crease of your thighs and the tender, swollen skin just above your clit.

Cool air hit your dripping cunt for half a second before his hand claimed it.

Two fingers spread you open roughly, exposing every slick, sensitive inch. Then without mercy, Yeonjun’s thumb and forefinger found your clit, already throbbing and engorged from the earlier torment. He pinched it firmly between them and squeezed.

Not a gentle roll. Not a teasing flick.

A hard, possessive squeeze that sent a white-hot jolt shooting straight up your spine. Your whole body seized as a strangled cry tore from your throat, hips bucking violently forward, trying to escape and chase the overwhelming sensation at the same time. Fresh slick gushed out around his fingers, coating his hand, dripping onto his lap.

“Fuck—listen to you,” he growled low, voice thick with dark satisfaction. “So sensitive already. Just from me squeezing this little clit like it belongs to me.”

He held the pressure for another heartbeat—long enough that your thighs trembled uncontrollably, walls clenching around nothing—before he finally released it with a slow, deliberate drag of his fingertips, letting the blood rush back in a dizzying pulse.

You were shaking, gasping, barely able to hold yourself up, forehead pressed to his shoulder as you tried to catch your breath.

Yeonjun’s lips brushed the shell of your ear, voice dropping to a rough, taunting whisper. “You wanted this, didn’t you?” 

He didn’t wait for an answer—just tilted your chin up with two slick fingers so you had to meet his eyes.

“Admit it,” he murmured, thumb brushing your bottom lip, smearing your own arousal there. “All that teasing while we were on the fucking highway... sucking me off while I’m trying to drive... grinding on my hand like you couldn’t wait another second. You wanted me to lose it. Wanted me to snap and fuck you raw right here on the side of the road.”

He squeezed again—sharper this time—making your thighs quake and a broken sob escape you.

Your breath hitched, cheeks burning, but you couldn't deny it. Not when he was looking at you like that—like he already knew every filthy thought in your head.

“Say it,” he demanded, leaning in until his mouth brushed your ear, breath hot. “Tell me you wanted me to lose control like this.”

You could barely form words, but the answer spilled out anyway—shaky, desperate. “Y-yes... fuck, yes—I wanted it... Wanted you to snap. Wanted you to fuck me right here.”

His eyes flashed—satisfaction, hunger, triumph all at once.

“That’s my girl.”

He held the pinch for one final, agonizing heartbeat—long enough that your walls clenched around nothing, begging—before he released your clit with a slow, deliberate drag of his fingertips, letting the blood rush back in a dizzying, overwhelming pulse.

You were shaking, gasping, barely able to hold yourself up when he lined himself up—still slick from your mouth—and slammed in—deep, brutal, all the way to the hilt in one punishing thrust.

Your scream was muffled against his shoulder as your nails raked down the back of his neck. The stretch burned in the best way—thick, unrelenting, filling you so completely you could feel every vein, every angry twitch of him inside you.

“Fuck—still so tight,” he snarled against your throat, teeth sinking into skin hard enough to leave marks. “Even after coming all over my fingers. Greedy little thing.”

He didn’t give you time to adjust and clamped his hands around your hips—fingers digging in hard enough to bruise—and he started moving. Rough. Fast. No rhythm at first, just raw, possessive need, hips snapping up to meet yours on every brutal downward stroke, driving himself deeper until your cervix ached and you were crying out with every thrust, the car rocking violently with the force of it.

Your back hit the steering wheel once—twice—horn blaring for a split second before he yanked you forward again, crushing your chest to his so he could bury his face in your neck and bite down harder.

“Mine,” he growled against your pulse, hips pistoning relentlessly. “Say it.”

“Yours—shit—Yeonjun—”

“Louder.” he demanded.

“I'm—fuck—yours!” you practically screamed in between breaths.

He rewarded you with a particularly vicious grind, pubic bone dragging hard against your clit on every upward stroke. Your walls fluttered around him, already fluttering toward the edge again from the relentless pressure, the way he was fucking you like he needed to ruin you for anyone else.

One hand left your hip and shoved up under your hoodie, palming your breast roughly—pinching the nipple between thumb and forefinger until you arched and sobbed his name.

“Look at me,” he demanded. You forced your eyes open—tears clinging to your lashes—and met his gaze. Dark, possessive, and completely unraveled. 

“Chan doesn’t get to have this,” he rasped, punctuating each word with a punishing thrust. “No one else gets this. Only me. Only fucking me.”

You shattered around him mid-sentence—walls clamping down hard, quivering wildly as your orgasm ripped through you. Your thighs locked around his hips; your cry was high and broken, echoing in the confined space but he didn’t stop. He kept thrusting you through it—harder, if anything—chasing his own release with short, erratic snaps of his hips.

“Gonna—fuck—gonna fill you up,” he warned, voice fraying at the edges. “Gonna mark you so deep you’ll feel me for days. Drip with me on every step tomorrow.”

You clenched around him on purpose—once, twice—and that was it.

Yeonjun came with a choked, guttural groan, burying himself to the hilt and pulsing hot inside you. His grip on your hips turned bruising as he ground up into you, riding out every shudder, spilling so much you could feel the excess leaking out around where he was still buried deep, streaking down your thighs and soaking into the leather beneath you.

He exhaled roughly, forehead pressed to yours, panting like he’d just run sprints. For a long minute the only sound was both of you breathing—harsh, uneven, the faint creak of the cooling engine, the quiet click of the turn signal he’d forgotten to cancel, and the thick scent of sex hanging heavy in the air.

Then Yeonjun laughed, rough and disbelieving, and dropped his head back against the seat again.

“Fucking hell, you are insane,” he muttered, voice wrecked. “Completely fucking insane.”

You smiled against his neck, still trembling, still very much full of him, walls vibrating weakly around his softening length. He huffed a low, wrecked laugh and pressed a surprisingly tender kiss to the fresh bite mark blooming on your neck.

“Next time,” he rasped against your skin, voice gravel-rough, “we’re taking the fucking van. Tinted windows all around, way more room in the back. I’m not doing this in a cramped drivers' seat on the side of the goddamn highway again." He pressed a kiss to your temple. "Gonna spread you out properly, take my time, make you scream until your voice gives out.”

You clenched around him once more, just to feel him twitch inside you, and felt the way his breath hitched.

“Liar,” you whisper.

He groaned, low and defeated. “Right” he admitted, lips brushing your ear. “I’ll probably still fuck you anywhere you let me.”

You grinned. “Yeah,” you whispered. “You really will.”

He pulled you closer—if that was even possible—and kissed the top of your head like the possessive storm inside him had finally quieted.

[yourfavtangerine]

Red lights ~

Pairing : Bang Chan x reader x Hyunjin

Wc : ~5.5k

Genre : smut with plot, idol AU, threesome, established relationship, BDSM

Warnings : MDNI !! threesome, mmf, sub/dom dynamics, temperature play, light BDSM, power dynamics, bondage, unprotected sex, oral m receiving

Summary : when your boyfriend propose to explore sexual possibilities with a third person you're not sure. But you trust him so you give it a try, and it end up being the best decision of your life.

A/N: finally i finished this fic! I started it like 2 weeks ago and wrote so many other stuff in the meantime. Finally i got the motivation to write the end! I got this idea while watching the Red Lights mv (obviously) and just wanted to make a fic out of it!

The red lights were always his idea.

Not just the dim glow from the LED strip along the ceiling, though that alone gave the room an infinity of aesthetic possibilities. No, it was everything about them. The atmosphere, the color, the meaning of each color.

Red meant control. Red meant sex, hard sex. Red meant desire, both yours and his, entwined like your bodies.

You were wrapped in it now, tangled in silk sheets, wrists still faintly red from the last session an hour ago? Two? You’d lost track. You always lost track of time under Chan’s hands.

He sat on the edge of the bed, shirtless, sweaty skin glowing a deep wine red in the low light. His back faced you as he leaned forward, elbows on knees, fingers laced together.

Something was wrong, he looked thoughtful, pensive.

You shifted under the covers. "That was good" you said softly, throat still sore from all your moans. "You okay? You seem...worried"

Chan glanced back over his shoulder, a soft smile on his lips, but not quite real. "Yeah. Just thinking."

You knew him too well to believe that answer. The tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenched when he thought you weren’t looking. It wasn’t new. You’d noticed it more often than not in the past few weeks. Not in how he touched you, if anything, he had grown more intense, more commanding, more needy and desperate.

But afterward…he always pulled away slightly. Like he was holding something back, keeping something to himself.

"About what?" you asked, sitting up and letting the sheet fall, pooling around your waist, your perky nipples on display just for him. His eyes dropped down, darkened with instinct, but he didn’t move, didn't give in.

"…Us" he said eventually. "The way things have been."

You tilted your head, unsure, doubt creeping up in your mind. "You’re not bored, are you?" you ask, scared.

Chan’s head whipped around at that. "God, no. Never. I'll never get bored of you. That’s the problem, actually."

You blinked twice. "…What?"

He turned toward you fully now, his expression unreadable even for you, like he was weighing something impossible to say, something forbidden. "I think about you constantly. I get jealous when guys look at you, even if it’s just for a second. I dream about tying you up in front of mirrors, making you climax until you pass out and so much other things. I want more. I want to go further in our relationship, in our sexual journey. But I’ve hit a wall."

You swallowed. Your body responded to the heat in his voice even if your mind was still trying to catch up. "What kind of wall are you talking about ?"

Chan hesitated. Then his voice dropped. "I’ve been having… thoughts. Fantasies. About someone else in the room with us. Watching. Maybe touching. Maybe participating"

Your breath caught in your throat. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees again. "Not because I’m not enough for you. Not because you’re not enough for me. None of that. But because I want to see you. See what you look like when someone else makes you fall apart. With my permission. Under my rules and yours."

The silence that followed was loud, deafening. You stared at him with wide eyes. "You want to watch me with someone else? You who are so easily jealous ?"

He nodded slowly. "Just one person. Someone I trust. Someone who knows me, knows us. Someone I know won’t cross boundaries. Someone trustworthy."

"And who do you have in mind?"

Chan looked up at you then. No hesitation in his eyes."Hyunjin."

You exhaled, pulse skipping. You’d noticed the way Hyunjin looked at you sometimes. Not hungry, just… curious. Lingering. Like he was memorising the way your lips moved, the way you leaned into Chan when you thought no one else saw. And now you knew he wasn’t the only one watching.

"I didn’t want to bring it up," Chan said. "But I can’t stop thinking about it. Not just you with him. Us. The three of us. Together. Exploring, discovering, experiencing. Safe in our bed and finding new ways to feel pleasure."

Your skin prickled with goosebumps. Presented this way, the idea seemed so appealing. "…What would it be like?"

Chan smirked. The real kind of smiles. The one he wore when he cuffed you to the bedframe or tied a blindfold on your eyes. "I’d have you tied. Maybe blindfolded. All nice and ready for us. He’d get to touch, taste, but only where I allow, when i allow. Maybe I’d guide his hands myself, show him what you like. Maybe I’d make you beg before you get anything. I don’t know yet. But i promise it will be so good your thighs will shake"

Your thighs pressed together involuntarily, reacting to his words. He noticed. Of course he did, he always noticed everything about you. "I don’t want to scare you" he added. "If you say no, it ends here. Fantasy only, just a kink in my head. But I had to tell you, because i've been thinking about it a lot lately and i needed you to know."

Your throat felt dry. You reached for the water bottle on the nightstand but your hand trembled slightly so he gave it to you himself. "…And he’d say yes?" you whisper, not knowing if you want the answer to be yes or no.

Chan’s voice was low, confident. "If I asked? I think so."

You didn’t answer right away. Because the truth was: the idea didn’t disgust you. It thrilled you. Not because you didn’t love Chan. You did, deeply, more than you've ever loved anyone else. But because you trusted him completely. And if this was what he wanted, what he needed, then maybe it could be what you wanted to try too.

Your voice was quiet when you finally spoke. "Then ask him."

Chan’s eyes darkened like a flame catching oxygen. "Are you sure? I don't want to force you into anything."

You gave him a smile you knew drove him crazy. " We promised to always give a try, remember?"

He leaned in, one hand already reaching for your jaw, not tight, just a warm pressure, possessive and proud. "Oh, baby" he whispered. "You have no idea what you’ve just agreed to, but I'm so happy."

Hyunjin didn’t know why Chan asked to meet at his studio so late but something in his tone over the phone told him not to say no. It was nearly midnight now, the city shinning through the glass wall of the practice room. They were alone, Chan had made sure of it, choosing an hour where nobody's around.

Hyunjin leaned against the wall, hair damp from his last dance practice, chest rising and falling. He's wearing a sleeveless tee and black sweatpants.

Chan stood a few feet away, pacing, hands on his hips like he was preparing to make a confession or a mistake. Or both.

"You’re not dying, right?" Hyunjin finally asked, tone playful but still focused on the situation.

Chan stopped pacing and gave a short laugh. "No. Not dying."

"Then what the hell is going on? You’ve been tense for weeks. Everybody noticed it. You've been distracted."

There was a long pause. Then Chan met his eyes and said it, just like that, without beating around the bush "I want you to fuck my girlfriend."

Hyunjin blinked, once, twice. There was a beat of silence. "...excuse me, what?" he said, slowly, cautiously, as if unsure he had heard right.

Chan ran a hand through his hair, forcing himself to stay grounded. "I mean it. I’ve talked to her. We’ve talked about boundaries. We’re solid as a couple. But I’ve been fantasizing about it, about bringing someone in. And when I imagined it, it was you. Only you. I think you fit as this third person."

Hyunjin stared, mouth parting slightly, trying to process the words. "You’re serious." he said in disbelief.

Chan nodded once. Hyunjin exhaled through his nose, leaning back against the wall. "Well… fuck."

Chan didn’t speak, couldn't. He let the silence stretch. Hyunjin’s mind raced. He thought about you, about the way you smiled at him during game nights at Felix's, how you always reached for Chan first, but your gaze would linger on him when you thought he wasn’t looking.

He’d thought about it before. Too many times. But he buried it deep down, thinking it was a line he’d never be allowed to cross. And now Chan was proposing him a threesome.

"Why me?" Hyunjin asked.

Chan’s expression softened. "Because you know me. You know how much I love her. You’d never push her. You’d respect the boundaries, and I trust you completely. That kind of thing...you don’t do it with strangers."

Hyunjin laughed once, low and short. "You really want to see it? See me touching her?"

"I want to orchestrate it" Chan said, stepping closer. "I want to guide it. Control it. Maybe even let go for once. I’ve always been the one in control with her. I want to see what happens when I pass this control to someone I trust."

The room felt heavy now, charged. "What does she think?" Hyunjin asked, voice quieter now.

"She said yes."

Hyunjin’s tongue darted across his lower lip. "Fuck, this is a bad idea"

"Look, if it’s weird, or if you’re not comfortable we can always forget this conversation ever happened..."

"I didn’t say no." Hyunjin cuts him.

Chan froze. Hyunjin tilted his head. "I’ve imagined it too. Her. You. The dynamic between you two, it’s magnetic. Like gravity. You're soulmates it's obvious, you're made for each other. Sometimes it’s hard not to get caught in it, not to hope having a love like that one day."

Chan didn’t expect the confession, and it showed on his face. His eyes wide open and mouth o shaped.

"But" Hyunjin added, "I don’t want to be the thing that messes you up. This only works if you stay solid. I'm not a couple breaker"

"We are" Chan said firmly. "We know our rules, our limits. Full honesty. Safe words. Aftercare. The whole thing, we're used to it. You’re not coming in to take anything away. You’re coming in to add to it, to be a plus to spice up things"

Hyunjin ran both hands through his hair now, looking somewhere between overwhelmed and overthinking "Fuck me." he muttered. "This is actually happening, i can't believe it"

"Only if you say yes."

"I want details" Hyunjin said. "Limits. What’s allowed. What’s not. I want everything clear. I don't want to cross lines"

Chan’s chest relaxed a little. This was exactly why he asked him, because Hyunjin is trustworthy and will always care about others and limits.

"Yeah. Absolutely. I’ll send you a message with everything tomorrow. Nothing happens until everyone’s on the same page and sure to do it."

Hyunjin looked at him, eyes still unreadable. "She trusts me that much?"

Chan smiled slightly. "No, she trusts me. And I trust you. That’s how this works."

Hyunjin chuckled, then nodded. "Alright" he said. "Let’s see what it leads us to."

It was only drinks.

That’s what you told yourself when you picked out your outfit for the night. Something casual, nice, but dangerously tempting. You were gonna be with Chan after all. And he had seen whole of you, naked, dressed, from sexy lingerie to giraffe onesie, he finds you beautiful anyway.

Your lips were glossed and red, but not too bold. You chose a light and floral perfume. The one Chan always said made him lose control.

Tonight, he wasn’t the only one who’d be paying attention. When Hyunjin knocked on the door, you felt your pulse racing. Chan answered it with a grin that hid all his excitement for the incoming night.

"Right on time."

"Wouldn’t miss it." Hyunjin replied smoothly, stepping inside the appartment. He smelled like musk and expensive cologne. His hair was slightly damp, combed back. He wore black, ripped jeans and a fitted shirt that left little to the imagination.

He wasn’t looking at Chan, he was looking at you. And not just with curiosity this time, with hunger. You swallowed hard.

"Hey" you said softly, trying to keep your tone easy but unable to hide your blushing.

"Hey." His gaze dipped once to your neck, collarbone, waist, hips, before it returned to your eyes. "You look…stunning"

Chan cleared his throat behind him. Hyunjin smiled mischievously. "Really, you're beautiful."

Chan raised an eyebrow. "We haven’t even poured drinks yet."

You chuckled, easing into the moment. The tension was there, electric, consuming, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Not yet.

Chan moved to the kitchen island, pulling out glasses and openo a bottle of wine.

"So" Hyunjin said as he sat down beside you on the couch, "how real is all of this?"

You tilted your head. "It’s very real. This proposition is serious"

Chan handed you your glass, then Hyunjin’s, and took his own place on the other side of you. His thigh touching yours as a silent reassurance and promise of support.

"We’ve talked" you said. "A lot. This isn’t something we’re rushing into."

Hyunjin looked between you both. "You trust me that much?"

Chan nodded. "Enough to put her in your hands. Literally and figuratively."

Hyunjin’s eyes didn’t leave yours. "And you?" he asked you directly. "Do you trust me?"

The question landed somewhere deep in your stomach. His voice wasn’t flirtatious, there was no smirk this time. He needed to hear you say it.

"I trust Chan. And he trusts you." you said without hesitation.

A flicker of something passed over his face. Relief? Gratitude? Desire? He himself doesn't know.

He raised his glass, and you did the same.

"To this promising night" he said.

"To trust" Chan added.

You smiled. "And to experimenting in bed."

The glasses clinked.

The conversation drifted. Safe topics. Music, old stories, tour nightmares. But beneath every word was hidding the sexual tension. The way Chan’s hand rested on your thigh and slid higher when Hyunjin leaned in to tell a story. The way Hyunjin’s gaze lingered when you laughed and licked wine from your lip. The casual way his fingers brushed yours when reaching for the bottle, acting like it wasn't on purpose.

At one point, you excused yourself to the bathroom just to breathe. You looked at yourself in the mirror, your cheeks are flushed. You were burning, but not from nerves. From anticipation.

When you returned, the music had changed, slower now, moodier. Something of Chan’s private playlist, of his bedroom playlist. You recognized it instantly. Red Lights. The air felt heavier.

"Everything okay?" Chan asked, eyes scanning you as you sat back down on his lap.

"Yeah" you breathed. "More than okay."

Hyunjin watched the way you melted into Chan’s chest, but he didn’t look jealous. You were Chan's after all, and you've always been.

Chan tilted your chin toward him, kissing you once, slow, deliberate, claiming, to start softly. When he pulled away, he looked over your shoulder at Hyunjin. "Still with us?"

Hyunjin’s voice was lower now. "Very."

You reached for your glass again, but Chan caught your wrist. "Baby, you're already tipsy." He said kissing your neck.

Hyunjin’s breath hitched audibly at the display of dominance. Chan smirked. The look Hyunjin gave him then was the kind you didn’t forget: dark, respectful but hungry.

"You two are dangerous, too teasing, too tempting" he said, finishing his drink in one.

Chan shrugged. "You walked in willingly, you knew what would happen."

Hyunjin stood, walking to the door, then paused. He turned back to you. "Whatever this thing between us becomes..." he said carefully "just know I’m not here to break anything between you. Only to add to it."

You nodded. "We know."

His eyes flicked to Chan. "You’ll tell me when?"

"Soon" Chan promised. "Very soon. We’re almost ready."

Hyunjin nodded once. "I’ll wait for the right time"

And then he left. The moment the door clicked shut, Chan pulled you into his lap, his mouth already at your throat, his hand gripping your thigh tight.

"You liked that" he whispered against your skin.

You gasped. "Yes."

His fingers slid higher. "He looked at you like he already owns you."

"He doesn’t" you whispered back. "I'm only yours"

"I know. But I might let him think he does. For a night."

You moaned, arching into him. He bit your shoulder. Not hard, just just enough to mark.

"Next time he sees you..." he murmured, "you’ll be tied up. Naked. Blindfolded. And I’ll ask him where he wants to start."

Your breath stuttered. You were already soaked from his dirty talk and small ministrations only.

"Do you know how perfect you’re going to look between us?"

You whimpered. He kissed you deeply, thoroughly, like he had to reclaim you before the real stuff even began.

You were already trembling before Hyunjin even arrived. Your wrists were tied behind your back by a soft red rope, Chan’s signature one, his favourite. You sat on your knees at the foot of the bed, blindfolded, wearing nothing but a thin lace bra and matching panties. Chills ran down your spine and it had nothing to do with the AC Chan turned on.

"Color?" Chan whispered behind you, his fingers brushing your shoulder in reassurance.

"Green" you breathed. "So green."

You felt his smile before you heard the door unlock. Footsteps, then a pause. A slow exhale from someone who definitely wasn’t your boyfriend. Hyunjin.

"Fuck" Hyunjin muttered. "She’s…"

"She’s perfect Chan finished for him, his voice filled with pride and possessiveness. "And she’s ours tonight."

Your breath caught in your throat.

"She can’t see you" Chan added. "But she can hear every word. Every breath."

A moment passed, quiet. Then Hyunjin spoke, voice low and reverent. "You’ve been like this… waiting?"

"Yes. For you." you whispered. "For both of you."

Chan chuckled. "She’s been squirming for the last fifteen minutes."

You felt the bed dip slightly, a hand ghosting over your knee, but not really touching you. Just the heat of Hyunjin's palm, just close enough to make you yearn for him.

"Can I?" Hyunjin asked, still not touching.

"She's mine, don't forget that." Chan said simply. "But tonight, I’m letting you borrow her. So yes. But you ask. You wait. You obey."

"Yes."

Your thighs clenched involuntarily. Hyunjin’s fingers finally made contact with your skin, trailing up your thigh, slow and deliberate. You gasped.

"So sensitive" he murmured.

"She gets needy when she’s tied up. It’s like her body forgets anything but touch" Chan said, stepping around to face you. "But she’s patient when she wants to be. Aren’t you, baby?"

"Yes, Chan" you whimpered.

Hyunjin’s hand paused. "Can I hear her say my name?"

Chan smirked. "Beg for it, baby. Show him how much you want him"

You licked your lips. "Please… Hyunjin…" He groaned. "I want to feel your hands" you added, voice trembling. "I want you to..."

Chan cut you off with a hand in your hair, gently tugging your head back. “You’ll take what we give you, not what you ask for.”

"Yes, sir" you whispered.

Then came the blindfold shift. Light peeked in as Chan pulled it up—just enough to expose your eyes. You blinked, and there he was. Hyunjin, kneeling before you, shirt already gone, black pants low on his hips, chest rising and falling rapidly.

"You’ve been holding back" you said, voice shaky.

"So have you." he replied, eyes dark and wide.

Chan stepped behind you and undid the knots on your wrists. Giving you a bit of freedom but not control. You knew that. During scenes he's always the one in control.

"Lie back, baby" he instructed. "Hands above your head."

You obeyed instantly, lying across the sheets. The red light of the LED bathed the room, painting Hyunjin’s skin a deep red. Chan re-bound your wrists to the headboard, his knots swift, practiced, experienced. Then came the blindfold again. Everything black, everything silent for a second.

Then you felt it: cold. A cube of ice dragged down your neck, across your chest. So that's what Chan chose for this night, temperature play.

You gasped, arching. A warm mouth followed the ice cube. A hot tongue replacing the chill. Hyunjin. You could tell by the sound he made, like he couldn’t believe how you tasted. His mouth closed over your nipple, sucking softly while the ice trailed lower. Chan again, working in tandem, teasing heat and cold in maddening contrast. He knew you liked it, it's not your first try of temperature play.

"She’s shaking" Hyunjin murmured, pulling back. "She’s so responsive." he stared at you in wonder.

"Wait until she starts begging" Chan replied smoothly. "She gets loud, so loud."

Your hips lifted helplessly. The ice cube dragged along your inner thigh.

"Please" you gasped. "Please, Chan... Something, anything..."

"I’ll give her one finger" Hyunjin asked. "Just one?"

"She gets two" Chan said. "And make her feel every inch. I want her moaning"

A hand slid beneath the waistband of your panties. Hyunjin’s, larger, more exploratory. You whimpered at the touch. Then he pressed two fingers slowly, slipping them inside. Curling. Searching. Finding your spot too fast, like he’d studied you, like he already knows everything about you.

"Fuck. She’s clenching already" Hyunjin groaned.

"She likes when she’s watched" Chan said.

Hyunjin’s rhythm was slow and relentless. You tried to rock into it, but Chan’s hand pinned your hips down. "Stay still" he commanded. "Or I stop it all."

You froze, panting. "Please no, donc stop."

The blindfold slipped again, just a crack, and you saw Hyunjin hovering over your cunt, his fingers deep inside, his eyes on your face like a man starving.

"Can I taste her?" he asked.

Chan stepped back. "Make her come first. Then you can clean up the mess she will have made"

You nearly sobbed from the promise. Hyunjin leaned in again, his thumb circling your clit, his fingers curling perfectly, and your breath stuttered as heat coiled deep in your stomach before snapping.

"Now" Chan whispered.

Your orgasm hit hard and fast, like a wave crashing through you, your body tensing against the restraints, eyes rolling back, lips parting in a loud cry.

"Fuck! Hyunjin!"

He didn’t stop. His mouth replaced his fingers, tongue licking every drop of your release until you were sobbing, sensitive and wrecked.

Then he kissed his way up your stomach, stopping just beneath your breast.

"She’s unreal, like a goddess" he breathed.

Chan pulled him back. "You’ve had your taste." He untied your wrists, flipped you gently, and bent you over the edge of the bed.

He pressed against your back, whispering into your ear. "You want more, my love?"

"Yes." you whine

"You want to feel both of us?"

"Please, Channie."

"I’ll guide you." You were pliant in their hands, totally pliable. Hyunjin’s mouth trailing kisses down your spine while Chan spread you open, teasing your entrance with his cock before pushing in a slow thrust. You could feel every veins and his oh so perfect shape rubbing against your walls.

You moaned into the mattress, already overwhelmed by their touches, the pressure in your belly making you go crazy. Hyunjin stroked your hair, kissed your shoulder, praised you endlessly.

"So good" he whispered. "So fucking good like this."

Chan fucked you slow, deep, possessive, every thrust purposeful and made to bring you the most pleasure possible. At the same time, Hyunjin brought two fingers to your clit, watching you crumble and become a moaning mess that made it even more intense.

Then Chan’s voice broke through the haze "Tell me whose you are, baby."

"Yours" you cried. "Yours, always yours"

"Say what you want, beg for it."

"Both of you. Please, I want both of you to come. I want to feel it. I want..."

Hyunjin kissed you again, then moved to kneel in front of you. You opened your mouth instinctively, and he slid inside, groaning at the feeling of your mouth around him.

Chan fucked you harder. Hyunjin moved slower, letting you suck, moan, take what you could as your body was pulled deeper and deeper into an unbearable pleasure. The second orgasm hit as Hyunjin came in your mouth, the vibration of your own moans sending him over the edge.

Then Chan came as well, gripping your hips so tightly you knew it would bruise. He came deep inside you with a grunt so raw it made you shudder around him.

Then the time stopped. Silence. Breaths. Heat. He collapsed next to you onto the sheets, body spent. Your blindfold half-hanging, limbs trembling. Hands touched you, Chan's, wiping you down, untangling ropes, kissing your skin softly.

"Color?" Chan whispered as he cradled you.

"Green" you murmured. "Green, green, green, a whole forest."

Hyunjin lay beside you, hair messy, lips swollen. "You okay?" he asked, his voice soft.

You turned your head, smiling. "Perfect."

The red light still glowed faintly on the ceiling, but everything was quiet. Your skin was slick with sweat, your muscles limp and spent, your body still humming with the memory of every touch, every sound, every command.

But in the silence that followed the scene, it wasn’t the intensity you remembered first, it was the warmth and safety. Chan had wrapped you in a soft towel, helped you into a loose tee from his drawer, the oversized one he always gave you after intense moments.

Now you were curled against his chest, breathing in his scent while his hand rubbed soft circles into your back comfortingly. One of your legs was draped over his thigh, your fingers still twitching from how tightly they’d been bound earlier.

Across the room, Hyunjin returned from the kitchen with a glass of water. His steps were careful, his gaze flicking to yours as if checking that he was still welcome in the space. You reached for the water instinctively, and he smiled, small, but real.

"Here" he said, crouching beside the bed. "Drink slowly."

You obeyed and as the cool liquid slid down your throat, you became aware of how dry your lips were, how shaky your hands still felt. Hyunjin took the glass when you were done and set it aside on the bedside table before brushing a thumb over your cheek.

"You okay?" You nodded but Chan answered for you. "She’s more than okay."

"I am" you murmured. "Really."

Hyunjin slowly climbed onto the bed again, settling beside you on your other side. The mattress dipped, and you were suddenly cocooned in warmth, Chan at your front, Hyunjin at your back, both of them close, like they were waiting for you to speak first.

You stared at the ceiling, blinking slowly. Then you smoke "That was…"

"Intense?" Hyunjin offered.

"A dream" you said, voice light and happy.

Chan chuckled softly, brushing your hair behind your ear. "Told you. I knew you were gonna like it. I just had to bring it up"

"Was it too much?" Hyunjin asked, more serious now.

You shook your head. "No. Never. With Chan we've tried a lot of things"

There was a pause. The kind that wasn't awkward, just full. Then Hyunjin whispered, "You let me touch you like that. I don’t take that lightly."

You turned to him, gaze soft. "You didn’t take anything. Chan gave it to you. I did too."

"I know" he said. "But I still want you to know I don’t think this was casual. Not for me."

Chan’s hand stilled on your back. You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you reached for Hyunjin’s hand and laced your fingers through his.

"It wasn’t casual for us either." Chan leaned in, kissing your shoulder.

"I’ve never seen you like that." You spoke. "You weren’t jealous?"

"Oh, I was" he said, amused. "But not in the bad way. It made me want to keep you more, not push you away."

You exhaled. "I didn’t expect it to feel so… safe. So intimate."

Hyunjin shifted closer, your joined hands resting on your stomach now. "I think that’s what surprised me too" he admitted. "How much it felt like something we already knew how to do. Like we’ve been circling this forever."

You looked between them. "Do we do it again?"

Chan tilted his head. "Do you want to?"

"Yes."

Hyunjin didn’t hesitate either. "I do."

"But" Chan added "not now, a next time. Today was enough for a first time. We can explore more later."

"Agreed" Hyunjin said.

You bit your lip. "So what does this make us?"

Chan smiled. "A little dangerous."

Hyunjin laughed under his breath. "A little obsessed."

"Definitely insatiable" you muttered.

Chan looked at you with fire in his eyes. "You’ll need recovery time. But when you’re ready…"

"I’ll let you know" you said, voice playful, fingers tracing Hyunjin’s forearm. He raised an eyebrow. "And you think we’ll be the ones teasing you next time?" Chan grinned. "Oh, she likes being put in her place. She just likes to pretend she doesn’t."

You laughed, breathless. "I think you know how to handle me now." you said to Hyunjin

Chan leaned in. "We’re just getting started."

You melted between them, held, wanted, claimed, and safe.

After about half an hour, Hyunjin leaves the bed to get back dressed "It was a pleasure. I'm already exited thinking about next time"

He then leaves the appartment and you fall asleep in Chan's arms.

The morning was quiet in the way only deep satisfaction could bring.

Sunlight slipped through the curtains, golden. The heat and need from the night before replaced by the gentle warmth of Bang Chan’s arms, wrapped securely around you under the covers. His hand rested on your stomach, his thumb tracing slow, sleepy circles.

You felt his breath first, steady, warm against your neck and then the soft press of his lips there. "Awake?" he murmured, voice still thick with sleep.

"Barely" you whispered.

You felt his smile against your skin. "Good. Stay here with me a little longer."

You didn’t move. Couldn’t have, even if you wanted to. Every part of you ached in the most delicious way, thighs sore, neck kissed raw, wrists still tingling with memory. You felt used in the way only a scene could. But more than that, you felt cared for. Held. Safe, the way you always were with him.

Chan shifted slightly behind you, pulling you closer, like even the inch of space between your bodies was too much. "Are you okay?"

You nodded. "Yeah."

"Too sore?"

"Just sore enough to remember last night." you said with a sleepy smile. "You were… intense."

He chuckled softly. "We were intense. You let me do that, let me bring Hyunjin in our bed. That wasn’t just me."

There was a pause, a warmth in it, not hesitation. "I meant what I said last night" Chan said, voice softer now. "I wanted to give you something different. Something deeper, exploratory."

"You did." He kissed your shoulder, once, then again. "I watched you fall apart so beautifully. And then put yourself back together like it was nothing."

"I had help."

"You always have help" he whispered. "As long as it’s me."

Your eyes fluttered shut. God, you loved this man. Not just because of the way he touched you. But because of the way he saw you. The silence between you stretched out again, not uncomfortable, just full.

After a few minutes, Chan shifted behind you and sat up slowly, groaning as he stretched his arms over his head. His hair was a mess. His back, marked lightly with nail scratches you barely remembered giving him.

"Shower?" he offered. "Or coffee first?"

You thought about it. "Both."

He leaned down and kissed your temple. "I’ll start the coffee. Shower’s warming up."

You watched him pad to the bathroom, bare and unbothered, humming under his breath. The domesticity of it all, after everything that had happened almost made you laugh.

Ten hours ago, he had tied you down and made you cry with overstimulation. Now he was making your favorite coffee and warming a towel for you.

He came back a few minutes later, holding out a mug, still shirtless.

You sat up, wincing a little, and took the cup with both hands. "You're spoiling me."

"I plan on keeping doing it."

You smiled into your drink. "So… last night." Chan raised a brow, sliding back into bed beside you. "Yeah?"

"Was that a one-time thing? Or…" He tilted his head, studying your face.

"You want the honest answer?"

"Always."

"I don’t know yet." He reached out, brushing his fingers along your thigh. "I liked seeing you with Hyunjin. A lot more than I expected. But also…" He hesitated. "I like this. Just us. You in my bed. My shirt. My coffee in your hands."

Part 2

Hey! I have to admit I still have a lot of ideas for maybe a part 2 so if you'd be interested just comment or message me!

Taglist for part 2

[cumonangelxo]

let me be ur passenger princess so u can watch me play with my boobs while u drive 🤭

[cindy-lou]

RED LIGHTS (2021) Bang Chan And Hyunjin

[kawasemi-automatic]

[alysmond]

CILLIAN MURPHY in RED LIGHTS (2012)