The Auction
Stayc Seeun x male reader
word count: 5590
The air in the underground hall was thick with old money, expensive perfume, and the low hum of anticipation. Crystal chandeliers cast golden light across a sea of masked patrons—men in tailored suits, their faces hidden behind Venetian shapes of black and gold, while women in silk gowns and feathered dominoes sat beside them, some guests, some… inventory. The auction was silent in name only; a digital paddle system glowed on every table, numbers flickering in soft blue. The host, a woman in a crimson dress and an ivory cat mask, stood on the raised platform, her voice smooth as poured cream.
You hadn't planned to be here. Your father's estate lawyer had given you the invitation along with a dozen others, casually mentioning it was “a traditional diversion for the new generation.” You'd only been back in Korea for a single day—jet-lagged, still smelling of the business class cabin, and suffocating under the weight of a billion dollars you never asked for.
The penthouse your father kept in Gangnam was sterile, empty, too clean. You needed noise. You needed something unpredictable. So you'd put on the black silk mask the lawyer had provided—simple, elegant, covering the upper half of your face—and stepped into the masquerade.
The auction had already been running for an hour when you arrived. You took a seat at the back, declined the champagne, and watched. Girl after girl was led onto the stage—all masked, all young, all beautiful in that polished, manufactured way. Dancers, actresses, models. The bids were brisk, clinical. A night with a rising pop starlet went for twelve million won. A former Miss Korea runner-up fetched fifteen. The rich men around you raised their paddles with the same dispassion they'd use to bid on a painting. You almost left.
Then the host's voice changed.
"Now, gentlemen, for our final lot of the evening… a special offering. Originally booked as a private arrangement, but due to overwhelming interest, we've opened the floor. Please welcome—Lot Seven."
The lights shifted. A spotlight hit the side curtain.
And she stepped out.
You sat up straighter.
She wore a dress of deep midnight blue, cut to cling to every curve like it had been painted on. The neckline plunged, but it wasn't the cleavage that made your breath catch—it was the way her body moved. Confident. Almost arrogant. Her thighs were thick, muscular yet soft, and when she walked to center stage, there was a deliberate sway to her hips that made the fabric shimmer. Her butt was insane—round, full, pushing against the velvet like it was barely contained, a bubble that demanded attention. She did a slow spin for the audience, arms raised, showing off the profile, then another, faster, letting the fabric lift just a little. A few men in the front row leaned forward.
Her mask was different from the others. Silver, filigreed with tiny flowers, covering only her eyes and the bridge of her nose. It left her lips visible—full, parted slightly, painted a soft pink. She didn't look nervous. She looked… defiant. Like she was daring someone to bid on her. Like she knew exactly what she was worth.
"This is Selle," the host announced. "A member of a well known, very influential 4th gen group. Tonight, a night in her company begins at a base of five million won."
The paddles went up fast. Seven million. Eight. Nine.
You watched her. There was something about the set of her jaw, the way she held her shoulders back. It tugged at a memory you couldn't quite reach. You'd been away for so long—studied in the States since you were twelve, only came back for funerals and lawyers. Korea was a ghost you haunted, not a home. But this girl… the way she tilted her head when she listened to the bidding… it felt familiar. Like a half-remembered dream.
The bidding climbed. Fifteen. Sixteen. A man in a lion mask and a cigar was pushing hard. Seeun's eyes flickered toward him, then away.
You raised your paddle.
"Eighteen million from the gentleman in the back."
The lion mask turned to look at you. You felt his stare through the anonymity. He raised again. Nineteen.
You raised again. Twenty.
Silence. The host's voice rang out: "Twenty million won. Going once… twice… sold to the gentleman in the black mask. Lot Seven is yours."
You didn't feel victorious. You felt curious. The money was nothing—a rounding error in your father's accounts—but the pull toward her was something else. You stood, adjusted your jacket, and walked forward.
The other bidders watched. The lion mask grumbled. The host smiled behind her cat mask.
Seeun waited at the edge of the stage, her hand resting on the railing. As you approached, you saw her chest rise and fall a little faster. The confidence flickered. For a moment, she looked almost fragile.
You took her hand—warm, soft, a little clammy—and raised it to your lips. You didn't break eye contact. Her breath hitched. A blush crawled up her neck, spreading across her cheeks, visible even in the dim light. She looked away, then back, a half-smile playing on her lips.
"This way, please," a butler said, appearing at your elbow. "Your suite is prepared."
You kept her hand in yours as you followed him off the stage, through a heavy curtain, and into a long corridor lined with closed doors. The sound of the auction hall faded behind you, replaced by the soft shuffle of footsteps on Persian rugs. The walls were paneled in dark wood, sconces casting pools of amber light. You could smell her perfume now—something floral, with a hint of vanilla. It was pleasant. Familiar in a way that made your chest tighten.
"Do you always kiss hands like that?" she asked, her voice low, steady. She was looking straight ahead, but a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
"Only when the hand belongs to someone worth kissing."
She snorted—a small, genuine sound. "That's a line. You rehearsed that."
"Maybe I did. Maybe I've been imagining this moment for twenty million won."
"Twenty million? That's a lot for a night with a girl you've never met."
"But I have met you," you said, and you weren't entirely joking. "Haven't I?"
She stopped walking. The butler continued a few steps before realizing and pausing, turning back. Seeun shook her head at him, and he nodded, moving to a door a little further down.
"You're the first person tonight who hasn't asked my stage name," she said, looking up at you. The silver mask glinted. Her eyes were dark, but there was something sharp in them.
"Would you have given it?" you asked.
"No. I'm supposed to stay anonymous. But you—you're supposed to too."
"I know."
"Then why are you looking at me like you recognize me?"
You exhaled slowly. The corridor was quiet except for the hum of an air conditioner. "I don't know. Maybe I do."
The corridor behind the stage hummed with the distant echo of the gavel's final strike. Seeun walked ahead of him, her heels clicking against the marble floor like a countdown she couldn't stop. The blue dress she'd been poured into hugged every curve — tight across her hips, cinched at her waist, the neckline plunging deep enough to show the swell of her breasts. Someone's idea of a final asset presentation.
She didn't look back at him. Couldn't.
The door at the end of the hall opened onto a room that smelled of gardenias and old money. A bed dominated the space — white linens, too many pillows, the kind of bed meant for display. She stood at its edge, her fingers gripping the hem of her dress, knuckles white.
Behind her, the door clicked shut.
She heard him move. Shoes set aside. The whisper of his shirt. His belt unbuckling. Each sound stripped another layer of pretense away. Her reflection stared back from the mirror across the room — wide eyes, parted lips, the blue dress clinging to her like a second skin.
"Look at me."
His voice. Low. Commanding. Nothing gentle about it.
She turned.
He stood in his boxers — dark, fitted, his body cut clean by years of discipline. His clothes lay in a heap near the door. He wasn't looking at her with wonder. He was looking at her like he'd bought what was in front of him and intended to enjoy every single thing she had to offer.
"Come here."
It wasn't a request.
She walked to him on unsteady legs. When she reached him, he didn't ask permission. His hand fisted in the fabric at her hip, yanking her against him. The dress pulled taut across her chest. His other hand found the back of her neck, fingers digging into her hair as he crushed his mouth to hers.
This kiss wasn't soft. It was demand. His tongue pushed past her lips, and she made a sound — half gasp, half surrender — that he swallowed whole. His grip on her dress tightened, knuckles pressing into her spine through the thin fabric.
"Turn around."
She obeyed.
He found the zipper at her back and pulled. The sound cut through the quiet like a blade. Cold air hit her skin as the dress loosened. He pushed it off her shoulders, letting it catch at her elbows, at her waist. His hands came around to her front, palms flat against her stomach, dragging upward until he cupped her breasts through the slipping fabric.
"You've been killing me in this dress all night," he muttered against her ear. "Do you know that? Every time you bent that stage, every time you looked at the crowd like you were too good for every single one of them."
She shuddered. His thumbs found her nipples through the lace of her bra, circling slowly before pressing down. Her head fell back against his shoulder.
"I don't —"
"You don't have to say anything." His hands left her briefly, and then the dress dropped completely, pooling at her feet. He spun her back around to face him.
His eyes raked over her. Black lace bra. Black panties. The dip of her waist. The tremble in her thighs.
"So beautiful," he said, and the words might have sounded reverent if not for the edge in his voice, the raw hunger narrowing his gaze.
He unhooked her bra in one motion, letting it fall. Her breasts spilled free — full, heavy, her nipples already peaked and aching. He didn't look away. He didn't soften.
He lowered his mouth and took her.
No gentle circles. No slow build. His mouth closed over her nipple and sucked hard enough to make her gasp, his tongue pressing flat against her, teeth grazing as he pulled back. Seeun's hands flew to his shoulders, nails digging in. He switched to the other breast, giving it the same brutal attention, his hand squeezing the first, thumb rolling over the wet peak.
"That's it," he breathed against her skin. "I want to hear you."
She was already making sounds she didn't recognize — high and desperate, punched out of her with every pull of his mouth. He sucked harder, deeper, drawing her in until her knees buckled and his arm locked around her waist to keep her upright.
He pulled back, looked at the reddened, wet tip of her breast, and smirked.
"More?"
She couldn't answer. He didn't wait for one.
He pushed her backward onto the bed. She landed on the white linens, bouncing once, looking up at him with wide eyes as he climbed over her. His body blocked the light. His hands found her hips, dragging her panties down her thighs. She lifted her hips to help, and the look he gave her — approval, possession — sent heat pooling between her legs.
The panties joined the dress.
He settled between her thighs, pushing them apart and wide. The cool air hit her wetness and she clenched at nothing, embarrassed by how ready she was, how desperate.
He noticed. Of course he noticed.
"Look at you." His thumb dragged through her folds, collecting the slick there, his eyes darkening. "Wet already. You've been thinking about this too, haven't you?"
She nodded, unable to speak.
"Say it."
"Yes," she choked out. "Yes, I've — I've been thinking about it."
"Good girl."
He lowered his head.
His first lick was broad and slow, dragging from her entrance all the way up to her clit. The sound she made was almost a scream — muffled by her own hand as she slapped it over her mouth. His hands gripped her thighs, spreading her wider, holding her open like a feast.
He ate her like he was starving.
His tongue circled her clit with focused, dirty precision — not teasing, not building, just taking. He sucked her between his lips and flicked hard, again and again, while she writhed beneath him, her hips bucking against his face. He didn't let up. One hand released her thigh and found her entrance, sliding two fingers inside her without warning.
Seeun cried out, her back arching off the mattress.
"Please — please —"
"Please what?" His voice was muffled against her, his breath hot, his fingers curling inside her, searching, finding.
"Please don't stop —"
He didn't.
He pushed her higher, his mouth relentless, his fingers pumping into her at a punishing rhythm. The pressure built in her belly like a coil winding too tight, too fast. Her hands fisted in the sheets. Her thighs clamped around his head, and he groaned against her — the vibration pushing her over the edge.
The first orgasm hit her like a wave breaking through a dam.
She screamed, her body convulsing, her vision going white at the edges. He kept going, lapping at her through the contractions, drawing it out until she was sobbing, trembling, trying to push his head away because it was too much.
He grabbed her wrist and pinned it to the bed.
"One more," he said, his chin glistening, his voice rough. "Give me one more."
She shook her head, but he was already lowering his mouth again.
He was ruthless. His tongue found her clit, swollen and oversensitive, and he worked it with short, sharp strokes, refusing to let her recover. His fingers never stopped moving. She could hear herself begging, could hear the broken sounds coming out of her mouth, but she couldn't stop them.
The second orgasm built faster. Tighter. It crashed into her like a fall from a great height.
Her vision went dark. Her body locked and then released, wave after wave ripping through her, and she felt herself clench around his fingers as he groaned against her, finally slowing, finally letting her come down.
By the time she could see again, he had moved up her body. His face hovered over hers, his lips wet, his eyes dark and satisfied.
He kissed her. She tasted herself on his tongue and moaned into his mouth.
"That's two," he said, his thumb tracing her jaw. "I'm not done with you yet."
Seeun's chest heaved. Her thighs still trembled, slick and sensitive, the aftershocks rippling through her in lazy waves. She lay beneath him, boneless, her skin flushed pink from collarbone to navel.
But something stirred beneath the haze.
She wanted to give back. She wanted to make him come apart the way he'd done to her.
Her hand found his chest, pushing gently. He raised an eyebrow but let her move him, rolling onto his back as she climbed over him. She straddled his hips, her wet heat pressing against his cock through the thin fabric of his boxers. He was hard — impossibly hard — and the feel of him against her made her mouth water.
"Selle." His voice had an edge now, less controlled. "What are you doing?"
She didn't answer. She slid off him, her hands finding the waistband of his boxers. She pulled them down his thighs, slow and deliberate, watching his cock spring free. Thick. Veined. The head already glistening.
She wrapped her fingers around him and his breath hissed through his teeth.
Her first lick was tentative — just the tip, just her tongue swiping across the slit, tasting salt and want. His hand found her hair, not pulling, just resting there, a warning and a promise.
She took him deeper. Her mouth closed over the head, her tongue circling, and she heard the low sound he made, felt it vibrate through his entire body.
"Look at me," she said, echoing his words from earlier.
His eyes met hers.
She held his gaze as she lowered her mouth onto him, taking him inch by inch until her lips touched her own fingers at the base. His cock hit the back of her throat and she didn't flinch, didn't pull away. She swallowed around him and his hips bucked involuntarily, his hand tightening in her hair.
"Fuck — Selle —"
She pulled back, dragging her tongue along the underside, then took him again. Deeper this time. Faster. Her head bobbed in a rhythm she set, but his hand in her hair soon took over, guiding her pace, showing her exactly how he wanted it.
"Like that," he growled. "Just like that."
His grip tightened, holding her down as he thrust up into her mouth. She gagged, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, and he held her there for one heartbeat, two — then let her up, gasping and wet-lipped.
She didn't stop. She couldn't. She wanted to devour him.
Her hand wrapped around the base of his cock, stroking in time with her mouth, working him while her tongue flicked across the sensitive head. His breathing turned ragged. His hips moved faster, less controlled, chasing something he was about to lose.
"Look at me when you come," she said, pulling off just long enough to say it, her voice wrecked and raw.
He grabbed her hair and pulled her mouth back onto him with a growl.
She took him deep, her throat relaxing to accept him, her tongue working the underside as he fucked into her mouth with short, desperate thrusts. His whole body tensed. His hand fisted in her hair, holding her in place.
He came with a groan that sounded torn out of him — hot and thick down her throat, pulse after pulse. She swallowed every drop, her eyes locked on his, watching the way his jaw went slack, the way his chest heaved, the way he looked wrecked because of her.
When he finally released her, she sat back on her heels, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. His cum dripped from her chin and she licked it off, slow, savoring.
He stared at her like she'd rewritten something in him.
"That," he said, his voice hoarse, "was not how I expected this night to go."
Seeun smiled — the first real smile she'd worn all night.
The air between them crackled with something unspoken, a tension that had shifted from raw hunger into something deeper. Y/N's chest still heaved, his skin slick with a thin sheen of sweat, his cock still twitching from the force of his release. But his eyes—those dark, heavy-lidded eyes—were fixed on her with an intensity that made Seeun's stomach flip.
Before she could catch her breath, his hands were on her. He grabbed her by the waist, hauling her up his body with a strength that made her gasp. Her knees slid on either side of his chest, her wet cunt pressing against his stomach as he pulled her face down to his. His mouth crashed into hers, hot and demanding, his tongue sliding against hers without preamble. She tasted herself on his lips—salty and sweet—and the blend of it made her head spin.
His hand slid down her back, palm flat against her spine, then lower, cupping the curve of her ass. He squeezed, kneading the flesh, then brought his palm down in a soft, playful slap that echoed through the quiet room. The sting bloomed across her skin, warm and tingling, and she gasped into his mouth.
"I've been thinking about this plump ass all night," he murmured against her lips, his voice rough and low. His hand squeezed again, fingers digging into the soft flesh. "You have no idea what you've been doing to me, walking around in that little dress."
Seeun's breath hitched. She wanted to say something—something clever, something teasing—but all that came out was a shaky exhale as he pushed her off him, rolling her onto her stomach. The sheets were cool against her heated skin, a brief contrast before the heat of his body covered her.
His weight settled over her, his chest pressing against her back, his breath hot against her ear. "You're so fucking beautiful," he said, the words almost a growl. "I've wanted this since I first saw you tonight."
He shifted, his cock sliding between her thighs, nudging against her slick folds. The first touch of him there—just the head, just the barest press—made her whole body tense. He dragged the tip through her wetness, once, twice, coating himself in the evidence of her arousal. The sensation was maddening, teasing, a promise of what was coming.
"Please," she whispered, her voice muffled by the pillow she'd grabbed.
He didn't make her wait.
He pushed in, and the world narrowed to that single point of connection. Her cunt stretched to accommodate him, her walls gripping him tight as he sank deeper, inch by inch, until he was fully seated inside her. The fullness was overwhelming—a perfect, aching pressure that made her throw her head back, her mouth falling open in a silent cry.
"Fuck," she breathed, the word escaping her like a prayer.
He stayed still for a moment, letting her adjust, letting her feel every inch of him buried inside her. His hand found her hip, fingers digging into the soft skin, steadying her. Then he moved.
The first stroke was slow, deliberate, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in, deep and smooth. The second was faster. The third was harder. And then he found his rhythm, his hips snapping against hers with a force that pushed her forward on the bed.
He lifted himself up, supporting his weight on his fists, his chest hovering just above her back. The change in angle drove him deeper, hitting a spot inside her that made her toes curl. He pounded into her with a relentless, driving rhythm, his balls slapping against her clit with every thrust. The sound of their bodies meeting filled the room—wet, obscene, perfect.
Her ass cheeks clapped against his hips, the flesh jiggling with every impact. He watched it, mesmerized, the way her skin rippled and bounced with each stroke. His hand came down on her ass again, a sharp slap that left a red imprint on her pale skin.
"Take it," he growled. "Take every fucking inch."
Seeun grabbed the pillow, pressing it to her face, biting into the fabric to muffle the sounds that were tearing out of her throat. But they escaped anyway—whimpering, desperate moans that vibrated through the cotton. Her fingers clawed at the sheets, her knuckles white, as he drove into her again and again.
"Fuck, your pussy feels so good," he groaned, his voice strained. "So tight. So wet. Like you were made for me."
She wanted to respond, wanted to tell him that yes, yes, she was made for him, that this was everything she'd ever wanted. But the words dissolved into incoherent cries as he slammed into her, each thrust pushing her closer to the edge.
His hand tangled in her hair, pulling her head back, lifting her face from the pillow. He wanted to kiss her, wanted to taste her moans, but the mask got in the way. His fingers found the edge of it, and in one quick motion, he pulled it off.
The air hit her flushed cheeks, cool and sharp. She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the dim light, and then she turned her head to look at him.
And froze.
He was frozen too. His hand still buried in her hair, his cock still buried deep inside her, his body still pressed against hers. But his eyes—those dark, familiar eyes—were wide with recognition.
"Seeun?" His voice was barely a whisper, hoarse and disbelieving.
Her heart stopped. Then started again, pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears. She knew that voice. She knew those eyes. She knew the way his brow furrowed when he was confused, the way his lips parted slightly when he was surprised.
She'd known him her whole life.
"Y/N?" she breathed, the name falling from her lips like a revelation.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. The silence stretched between them, heavy with the weight of a decade of unspoken words. They were kids again, sitting on a swing set, sharing ice cream, stealing glances when they thought the other wasn't looking. They were teenagers, awkward and shy, passing notes in class, never quite finding the courage to say what they really meant.
And now they were here, tangled together in the aftermath of a passion that had been building for years.
"Fuck," he said, the word escaping on a shaky exhale. "I can't believe this."
He pulled out of her slowly, and she felt the loss immediately, a hollow ache where he'd been. But he didn't go far. He rolled her onto her back, his hands finding her face, cupping her cheeks. His thumb traced the line of her jaw, gentle, reverent, as if he was seeing her for the first time.
And then he reached up and pulled off his own mask.
The face beneath was the one she'd dreamt about for years. Older, sharper, more defined—but still him. Still the boy who'd made her laugh, who'd held her hand when she was scared, who'd kissed her once, quick and clumsy, behind the gymnasium before running away before she could say anything back.
"Seeun," he said again, his voice cracking on her name. "It's really you."
She laughed—a broken, breathless sound that was half sob, half joy. "I can't believe this."
He didn't give her time to say more. His mouth crashed into hers, fierce and desperate, pouring a decade of longing into that single kiss. His tongue slid against hers, tasting, exploring, claiming. He kissed her like he was making up for lost time, like he was trying to say everything he'd never had the courage to say before.
When he finally broke the kiss, he was breathless, his forehead pressed against hers. "I had the biggest crush on you," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "I never told you because I was too scared. I thought I'd lost my chance."
"I had a crush on you too," she said, her voice trembling. "I waited for you to say something, but you never did. I thought you didn't feel the same."
He laughed, the sound warm and broken. "I was an idiot."
"Yeah," she agreed, smiling through the tears pricking at her eyes. "But I forgive you."
He kissed her again, softer this time, a promise. Then he pulled back, his eyes scanning her face, memorizing every detail. "I'm not going to waste any more time. I've been waiting my whole life for this."
He shifted, positioning himself between her thighs. His cock brushed against her entrance, already slick with her arousal, and she gasped at the contact.
"Tell me what you want," he said, his voice low and rough. "Tell me, and I'll give it to you."
"I want you," she said, her voice steady despite the trembling in her limbs. "I've always wanted you. I want you to fuck me, Y/N. I want to feel you inside me. I want to feel every inch of you."
He didn't need to be told twice.
He rolled her over once more and pushed into her in one smooth motion, and this time, it was different. The connection between them was deeper, charged with a decade of unspoken desire. Her cunt stretched around him, gripping him tight, and she cried out, her ass lifting itself off the bed with the pleasure, giving Y/N a new angle to hit.
He grabbed her chin, tilting her face up to meet his gaze. "Look at me," he said, echoing his words from earlier. "I want to see your eyes when I fuck you."
She held his gaze as he began to move. Slow at first, each stroke measured and deep, hitting that perfect spot inside her. He changes his position now kneeling behind her to accomodate the new angle and began to move once more.
"I've waited so long for this," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I used to dream about you. I used to imagine what it would be like to hold you, to kiss you, to feel you come apart in my arms."
"Y/N," she breathed, her right hand grabbing his neck, nails digging into his skin. "I dreamed about you too. I used to think about you when I touched myself. I used to imagine it was your hands on me, your mouth on me."
He groaned, his hips picking up speed, driving into her with a renewed urgency. "Fuck, Seeun. I can't believe this is real."
"It's real," she said, her voice breaking as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. "It's so fucking real."
He lifted himself up, supporting himself on his fists, and began to pound into her with a ferocity that bordered on primal. Her thick thighs bouncing against the mattress with every thrust as she was pushing herself off completely to match his thrusts, the sound of their bodies slapping together filling the room.
"Harder," she begged, her voice raw. "Please, Y/N, harder."
He gave her what she wanted. He fucked her like he was trying to make up for every lost year, every missed opportunity, every moment they'd spent apart. His hips slammed against her delicious curvy ass making the nastiest sounds on impact, it was like a standing ovation at Cannes festival, non stop clapping, getting rougher and rougher by the minute.
"Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, his forehead pressed against her shoulder. "Your pussy is so tight, so perfect. I never want to leave."
"Don't," she said, her hand tangling in his hair. "Don't ever leave."
He kissed her again, deep and possessive, his tongue sliding against hers as he continued to fuck her. Her moans were swallowed by his mouth, the vibrations passing between them, binding them together.
She lifted up her head to stare into his eyes as he was kissing her. "I've wanted this for so long," she whispered, her voice husky and raw. "I've wanted you inside me, filling me, claiming me. I've wanted to be yours."
"I am yours," he said, his voice breaking. "I've always been yours."
She pulled his head back onto her shoulder, begging him to kiss her sweaty backside. "Fuck me, Y/N. Fuck me like you own me. Fuck me like you've been waiting for this your whole fucking life."
He growled, his hips snapping against hers with a renewed intensity. "I'm going to make you come so hard," he said, his voice a low, possessive growl. "I'm going to fill you up, and when I'm done, I'm going to do it again. I'm never going to stop."
"Promise?" she asked, her voice a breathless whisper.
"Promise," he said, and he sealed it with a kiss.
His right hand found his way under her body and onto her clit, his thumb pressing against the sensitive nub, circling in time with his thrusts. The pleasure built, a coil tightening in her belly, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps.
"I'm close," she whimpered, her nails raking down his back. "I'm so close, Y/N."
"Come for me," he said, his voice commanding. "Come on my cock. Let me feel you."
The words pushed her over the edge. Her orgasm crashed through her, white-hot and blinding, her body convulsing around him. Her cunt clenched, milking his cock, and he groaned, his own release building.
"Fuck, Seeun," he gasped, his hips stuttering. "I'm going to come."
"Come inside me," she said, her voice a desperate plea. "I want to feel you fill me up."
He buried his face in her neck, his body shuddering as he released, hot and thick, pulsing into her. She held him in place, squeezing every little drop into her needy pussy.
When it was over, they lay there, on top of each other, breathing hard, their bodies slick with sweat. He lifted his head, his eyes meeting hers, and he smiled—a soft, genuine smile that made her heart ache.
"Hi," he said, his voice hoarse.
"Hi," she said, laughing, the sound watery and bright.
He kissed her forehead, her nose, her lips. "I don't know how we're going to explain this to anyone."
"We don't have to," she said, her hand finding his, lacing their fingers together. "This is ours. Just ours."
He smiled, his thumb tracing circles on her palm. "I like the sound of that."
She pulled him for another kiss, slow and deep, savoring the taste of him. And when they finally broke apart, she knew—this was just the beginning.
