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DAECHWITA: Chapter 8

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“You do realize we have the means to fake our deaths, right?”

Chapter 8: Burn It (Till It's All Gone)

📜6.9K words | Approx. 30-min. read 🚨Please see the series masterlist for general warnings: Scheming continues, themes of revenge, negligence, and resentment. 📻Accompanying soundtrack 💭Reblogs & comments are always appreciated and please keep in mind they are the ultimate motivation fuel. 🍮Like my content? Consider supporting my work with a pudding!

It had been years.

The boys had reached the peak of their puberty once they started high school. Their extraordinary normal routine continued—civilian cosplay with their shadow parents during the weekdays, mask off in the palace on the weekends. They were growing up. They were growing up so well into such fine young men, and there was still no word from James.

Of course Hyejin would have loved to show him his son’s first steps. The day he said his first word. Maybe he would have even been understanding that Chris had a sibling albeit from someone else, but they were still brothers. They were wreaking havoc together just like he said they would. 

It was a lot of could have beens but it was okay nevertheless. Hyejin had put a deadbolt on her heart and hid it away in some dusty chest. If her other half was alive and well somewhere, maybe their paths would cross again. Maybe one day she could indeed set out to find him like she told him. Maybe he was really waiting for her as he promised. 

Maybe they could be together again in another lifetime.

“I’m afraid young master Christopher has got his heart stolen, your highness.”

Every time Mina visited her chambers to do her usual reporting on her boys, that was the one thing Hyejin had always dreaded to hear. She knew whatever Chris thought was feeling was temporary. Nothing could compare to that very special someone, and no matter how much she wanted to sit him down to talk to him about it, she knew it was going to be in vain. He would maybe listen just to be polite and squeeze a couple of ‘You’re right’s here and there, but she knew all her words were going to evaporate as she was saying them. 

Kids. They only ever said a heartfelt ‘You’re right’ once they experienced that horrible pain firsthand.

“Who is it?”

“A young lady by the name of Elizabeth. They make music together.”

“Does he know that you know?”

“I don’t think so.”

Ah, of course. It made sense why he felt like he had already met the one. Chris could have argued this Elizabeth girl was his first love all he wanted, but Hyejin knew for a fact that it wasn’t. It was music. And bonding solely over a mutual interest did not a soulmate make. If only he knew. If only he knew Minhyuk and Jun’s little girl was his doppelganger from the opposite realm. If only he knew he would combust in admiration if he saw what she was capable of doing with music. If only he knew they were both equally headstrong, bled passion, and in search of the same degree of normal. They spoke the exact same language and were just perfect for each other.

“I also think you should know that the young masters are thinking of leaving the country after graduation, your highness.”

“They– They what?”

Sheer panic. Her boys were going to leave? But there was no reason to leave. They could be happy here. There was no one chasing after them. There was no one threatening to hurt them. How was she going to be able to protect them from afar? How could she just sit there and watch herself be gradually erased from their lives? No. No. Just no.

“Their acceptance letters from Juilliard have arrived this Wednesday,” Mina continued solemnly, “Young master Christopher will be studying composition while young master Hyunjin will be studying dance.”

“You were supposed to tell me this while they were scheming a future, Mina.”

“I wasn’t aware of their plans until the mail arrived, your highness. I wholeheartedly apologize.”

Hyejin got mad at herself for lashing out at Mina like that. The woman did everything she possibly could to be by her side for years—even became a second mother to her sons. It wasn’t her fault that there were some things the boys were able to hide despite all the hidden eyes watching over them because why wouldn’t there be?

Kids. They always found a way to outsmart their parents one way or another. That being said, Hyejin could rely on her boy to make one mistake for he was carrying all the symptoms of being driven by emotion.

“Are they going to attend their senior dance?”

“Yes, your highness.”

“Tell Chris some sob story about the fleeting youth. I don’t care what it is,” she spoke to her aide resolutely, “Make sure he feels compelled to confess to this girl that night. I want Jiyong to watch him from afar and bring them both home.”

“Your highness…”

“Do as I say, Mina,” she firmly ordered, more like a queen rather than a mother.

“I’ll tell her I love her tonight.”

Right when they stepped foot into their school’s gym, these were the words Chris spoke to his brother while his eyes scanned the whole place to find his person of interest. Immediate panic flared in Hyunjin’s guts.

“Don’t do it tonight,” he countered with composure which was the complete opposite of the ruckus that broke out inside him, “Wait just a little longer. We’re almost there.”

“I know how Jiwon is looking at her. I have to do something before he does.”

“Then do it on our fucking graduation!”

“Who knows where she’ll be in a month if she doesn’t know!”

Goddammit, Chris!

Why? Why was he always this headstrong? Didn’t Chris insist on applying to Juilliard just because Liz was going to be in New York, too? They could fucking book same-day tickets and he could confess his love at the goddamn airport while he was at it. Why now?

Why… now?

Why risk ruining Hyunjin’s plans, too?

He made it seem like it didn’t really matter to him where he would go to school as long as he could study dance, but Hyunjin had a secret buried ten feet under his soul. A secret he couldn’t even tell his brother about.

A girl. 

Marilyn. The complete opposite of the icon that popped into everyone’s head. By herself mostly. Most people would say she had ginger hair, but Hyunjin saw fire there.

The first time he saw her was during home economics class. They were randomly paired and she taught him how to glaze a cake. She didn’t talk much—in fact, she spoke to him so rarely that Hyunjin knew every sentence she had uttered by heart. 

“This is nothing compared to what I will learn at the Culinary Institute of New York.”

New York. She was going to go to New York.

During lunch breaks, she would pick up her Moleskine notebook and sit down under the cherry blossom tree, writing and writing god knows what. Maybe stories, maybe diary entries, maybe recipes she was making up in her head. She watched the sky a lot. Every time she noticed the contrails of a passing plane highlighted by the sun like a golden magic marker, it made her smile. Hyunjin had no idea why he was so drawn to her.

He didn’t talk to her either. Whenever he noticed she was walking towards the tree, he would jump from his seat and run after her just to slow down to give the impression that he was casually making his way there. He would go sit under the tree with her and write little poems on his own. Sometimes they would lie down side by side in silence and watch the sky together. They would smile at each other sometimes, but that was it.

Hyunjin was going to say hi to her the second he received his diploma. He was going to invite her somewhere quiet and ask her about what she was writing all this time. Whether her lines mentioned him at all. When she was leaving and whether she wanted to see the Empire State with him. He wanted to gift her a lifetime supply of Moleskine notebooks. He wanted to hold hands with her, have his first kiss with her, and when the time was right, ask her permission to become one with her. Clumsily make love to her, explore his body with her, write poems inspired by her fiery hair for her, recite it for her, and make love to her again. He wanted to surrender to her.

All in due time. When he was finally free.

“Do you have any idea what your foolishness could have cost us?”

If only Chris wasn’t that stubborn. If only he could hold himself back for two more seconds. If only he wasn’t the reason why Hyunjin was filled to the brim with an insufferable grudge for he took away the one thing he wanted for the longest time. To be happy. And be free.

It broke Hyejin’s heart to a million pieces to do that, too, but one day…

Hopefully one day they would understand why she wasn’t ready to let them go.

As much as Minhyuk was excited on your behalf that you were about to take your first steps into young adulthood, he was also aware of the frequent meltdowns you were having over choosing schools. He decided he wouldn’t say anything until you received all the responses for your applications when in fact he knew they were all going to be acceptances. All the more reason for you to flip.

While going through the mail that particular morning, when he saw the letter from The Royal Academy, he heaved an exasperated sigh.

“Hyejin, I swear to fucking god…”

Yes, she wasn’t even trying to be subtle doing everything in her power to make you and Chris cross paths, but this once he didn’t have an excuse to outright refuse. It was your education in question, and more importantly, it was you who made the choice to apply there. But he’d be damned if he didn’t have a little confrontation with her about her matchmaking obsession.

“You are aware we’re not royal descendants, right?”

“Who cares?”

“What do you mean ‘Who cares’?” Minhyuk threw his hands in the air, “Weren’t you the one forbidding your sons from having relations with non-royal folk because of, what was it, their obligation to your ancestors? How are you going to be able to explain yourself?”

“You think I don’t know the only royal people the boys are able to encounter are themselves?”

Jesus fucking christ very much.

You may not have been royalty, but if it ever came to that, nobody could refute how special you were. How strong and determined you were. That trumped being royalty. You were the only exception to the rule she self-imposed to serve her not-so-ulterior motives. 

“You know we offer the best education she could ever receive, Minhyuk,” Hyejin offered a solid argument, “I know you think I’m being delusional and whatnot, but please do not deter her if she wants to make a favorable decision.”

He was thinking. A part of him wanted to intervene, but the sane part of him wanted to let you do whatever you wanted with your life. He knew you weren’t able to experience an average childhood as it was, and he would feel horrible if you resented him for a choice he made for you. He had made enough decisions on your behalf already.

“You know how indebted I am to you and Jun,” Hyejin touched her friend’s arm before leaving, “Please keep this in mind too while you’re judging me.”

I want her to be as graceful as a queen.

Hyejin couldn’t give a damn about how intact one’s manners were—it most certainly didn’t define the worth of a person, but Jun’s last words had been haunting her for years. Minhyuk was so adamant about his principles that if she told him ‘I will be giving etiquette classes to your daughter’ he would remarkably lose his mind thinking it was an attempt to make you more feminine. It had nothing to do with it. Selfish maybe, delusional even, but the voices in her head kept telling her that she would stop waking up in cold sweat in the middle of the night, that she would stop dreaming about Jun and wilting forget-me-nots when you stepped foot on these grounds. That Jun would stop questioning her every single night.

You promised. You know they belong together. What’s taking so long?

But everything needed a proper disguise. She indeed had to play one teeny tiny mind trick with you to put her grand plan in motion.

When she extended you an offer, Hyejin absolutely despised herself for even pretending she would do anything to harm Minhyuk or his beloved dojo. She just took advantage of the bond you had with your father, fully aware you wouldn’t do anything to put him in danger. Bluffing to that extent was a huge leap of faith maybe, but you took the bait. That was what mattered at the end of the day.

The only way Minhyuk was not going to object to this deal was to make it a mutual agreement. His gigantic pride was always in the way of him asking for or receiving any kind of help—there was absolutely no way he would accept it if Hyejin insisted she wanted to take on the responsibility of your education. Yes, she had other items on her agenda, as well, but your future was genuinely among the top of her priorities to even begin to make it up to your parents for what they had done for her.

Therefore, it wasn’t a complete lie when she posed the condition of you serving The Royal Family in an instructional capacity. She knew about Minhyuk training you for years. She knew this was the perfect opportunity to assign you as an assistant to the Military Arts program that just happened to be Chris’ major.

But more importantly, this put the parties on equal grounds: you were going to receive something by offering something in return, effectively eliminating the concept of ‘charity’ from Minhyuk’s mind. As far as she was concerned, this was a fair trade.

Then came the more tricky part. 

The only reason Hyejin wanted to move you to the guesthouse was to give you privacy so that you wouldn’t feel like you were being watched like she actually was for years. On the other hand, the knowledge of Hyunjin building an entire playground there made her anxious to no end. She couldn’t let it be known to her younger son that she was very much aware of what he was up to, but she was also worried that Hyunjin was not going to let you be. You were a bit too fascinating to stay away from.

Please. He’s going to relentlessly tempt you. Charm you. Make you feel like you’re the only thing that matters to him, but it’s not true. He’s not the one for you. Resist him. Please.

It was nothing more than wishful thinking of course. Somewhere along the way, something she couldn’t quite figure out had happened to her sunshine. He used to be a boy that appreciated the small beauties life had to offer. He used to chase butterflies. He used to have such a delicate soul. Then all of a sudden he had turned into this insatiable demon that was eerily reminiscent of some late tyrant. It wasn’t long before she heard the message on the wind about you and Hyunjin.

What have you done, sunshine? Why are you throwing tantrums this time?

She was indeed disappointed, but this wasn’t your fault. Not one bit. Hyunjin was his father’s son, and that ugly truth was bound to resurface at some point.

On one particularly deep, dark night, Hyejin had enough of the commotion going on inside her head and ran down the dimly lit corridors leading to The Zen Room. Barefoot. With only her nightgown on, her hair flowing past her waist looking like a charcoal stream rushing down her back. She walked into the room, panting, looking at the scripts she decorated the walls with, and thought about Minhyuk. Then she slowly made her way to the interior garden and caressed the jasmines and forget-me-nots she planted there with tears running down her face unbeknownst to her. She thought about Jun. She thought about James. She thought about Chris, about you, and that was when she started to doubt her own sanity.

Had she been clinging onto the ghost of something all this time? Did she read a little too much into it maybe? Was she indeed trying to force fate into something she just wished to see?

She knew her treasure was falling for you. She could swear you felt the same way too, but why didn’t it happen already? Did she miscalculate something in this formula for happiness that didn’t really exist? Did she spectacularly fail to read between the lines?

“One sign,” she whispered to the delicate flowers, “All I need is one sign for better or worse. Then I promise I’ll let it go.”

The sign Hyejin had asked for had appeared in the form of her own son basically confessing his feelings for you, immediately prompting her to think about one last scheme. 

“Is it the young lady from your prom night?” 

“No.” 

“Is it one of your current classmates?” 

“No.”

Say yes. Please say yes to this.

“Is it perhaps our guest that’s currently residing with us?” 

“Mother, please, drop it!!!” 

Anybody in their right mind would try to come up with enabling scenarios, but knowing her own son, Hyejin found inspiration someplace else.

Apples.

One time when Chris was little, he became so sick that he was strictly ordered to consume fluids, yet all he kept yelling about was his beloved bunny apples. Just once. He was getting better already so once wouldn’t hurt. Could he pretty please get just one piece with a cherry on top?

“Doctor’s orders, Chrissy. I’ll bring you your apples when they say you can eat them, okay?”

He couldn’t even last one day. Chris sneaked into the kitchen after his mom fell asleep just so he could sink his teeth into a yellow apple, and alerted the entire floor with the ruckus he caused in the meantime.

“Baby, why are you being so stubborn? You can’t eat them yet!”

Why the goddamn apples? Should she have been worried? Was this an indication of something lacking in his body? Or did he just simply have a sweet tooth?

“But they comfort me,” her boy had told her with his huge guilty eyes.

You and Chris were a little too alike, and she hoped from the bottom of her heart that it also held true when it came to a certain disregard for the rules. Especially if it included taking away something you really really wanted to have.

You are not to see him again after that and you will not divulge this information to him.

Once upon a time, a king wasn’t able to stop her from falling crazily in love with a man. This was just a test to confirm her hypothesis that not even a queen could come between you two, not that she had any intention to.

Anything you can do, I can do better.

Sibling rivalry was such a commonplace thing. You went through it even if you were two kids in line for the throne, or going to school hand in hand pretending to be civilians. It could be due to many reasons—because you wanted to be liked better; because you wanted to establish dominance over the other; because some friendly competition could be a motivation to do more, achieve more. If one kept losing to the other, on the other hand, it could turn into something ugly.

Jealousy. Resentment. Grudge.

Chris and Hyunjin did not really have the said rivalry between them per se. Every time one of them fell, the other was there. Covered up for each other whenever they could because they had each other and they would never leave one another. That was the one thing carved into their minds as they were growing up.

I love you both just the same.

Yeah right.

For some inexplicable reason, deep down Hyunjin knew their mother had a massive soft spot for his older brother. She had a favorite. Chris always got away with things with much fewer consequences than Hyunjin did. If and when he was scolded, it wasn’t as angry. When he was grounded, it was for a shorter period of time. Occasionally, she was more formal with Hyunjin. More distant. Less affectionate. The double standard frequently made him think about whether he was adopted or not. 

He watched himself shut down after they were informed of the sentence they both had to serve because of Chris. Until their adult ceremonies. A couple of years was not that big of a deal, but when you started counting down the days, they indeed felt neverending. It indeed felt like someone was playing an annoying prank on him by erasing some of the crosses he had already put on his calendar. The time just wouldn’t pass. 

Maybe he needed to make the most of it if it wasn't going to pass. Rumor had it that time went by quicker if you were having fun, but the aforementioned fun just could not be induced by simple stuff anymore, could they?

It had to be derived from the most outrageous things possible because fuck a double standard.

Hyunjin had established somewhat of a routine until you came along. When he laid his eyes on you, he initially thought you could have some fun together, but he most certainly did not plan on catching inadvertent feelings towards you. He couldn’t figure out what exactly those feelings were—he just knew it was a couple of shades different than what he experienced when he borrowed a night from a stranger. And it was growing stronger.

I can do anything better than you.

It would have been fine maybe. It would have been fine if it was someone else other than the person who kept reminding him he was always going to be the second best. The second choice. The second rate. His mother was supposed to summon him any day now to discuss what he’d like for his own adult ceremony, and when Hyunjin witnessed how you and Chris fucking devoured each other in your bed that he was never once invited to, he just felt…

Let's just say inspired.

“You know me, mother. I’d like to pay respects to our roots.”

“There is such profound beauty in the classical indeed, isn’t there?”

Why of course. The guillotine was also such a classic, wasn’t it? Everybody knew what it was.

“There’s something else I’d like to talk to you about,” Hyunjin placed his china cup delicately on the saucer and assumed a semi-serious expression, “I need your word that you’re not going to consult to reprimands after what I’m about to divulge to you. It’s about Chris.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Your word. You’re not gonna punish him.” 

Is this… Is this what I think it is?

“Very well. You have my word.”

“Actually, it is more than okay,” he smiled at his mother, “You’re familiar with our resident guest, right?”

“Yes?”

“I have reason to believe she and Chris are really suitable for each other.”

Words were simply not enough to describe the satisfaction that came from this declaration. Hyejin was right. She was right all along. It took a substantial amount of willpower not to crack and smile back at him.

“How so?”

She goddamn knew how so. Chris thought he was being all slick, but Hyejin heard it on the grapevine that you two might have been running off into the night recently.

“Just a gut feeling,” Hyunjin responded calmly.

Because I know they’re fucking each other, mother.

“Are you saying they are involved?”

“You could say that.”

Hyejin couldn’t believe it. Call it fate, a self-fulfilling prophecy, or a simple coincidence, but what she had been claiming for years indeed came true. She had a hunch you two were up to something, but Hyunjin basically confirmed it for her. You and Chris had passed her unnecessarily complex test.

“I’d like her to escort Chris during my adult ceremony.”

Hyejin furrowed her brows in confusion at her son’s very unusual request, “Well, that’s highly irregular. Escort duties are not for the guests.”

“I know, but don’t you think this is a great opportunity to test drive a public debut?”

It indeed would be. It could be a reason to open the gates of the grounds again. It could be the reason happiness could rush through these stone corridors again. She agreed.

“Don’t tell him that, though. I want it to be a surprise,” Hyunjin appealed to his mother one last time before he left, “He’s been through enough, mother. Give him this.”

Now we’re even.

Two birds with one stone: a cold dish of revenge and a gift for himself. Just like how he took away Hyunjin’s one chance at happiness because he couldn’t help himself, he was going to take away his brother’s, too, and it had to be during his adult ceremony. It had to be a very bitter reminder of a night that was supposed to be a celebration, and it had to turn into a post-apocalyptic wasteland afterwards. Chris obviously wasn’t going to still want you after learning the truth. He wasn’t like Hyunjin—he didn’t know how to swallow his pride. It could take some effort on Hyunjin’s part to convince you why you belonged with him, but you would eventually come around. Everybody eventually came around.

He would know what a gigantic presumption that was if he exerted some effort to get to know you just a little bit instead of your body.

Hyujin couldn’t really calculate how much his attempt would backfire and push you to make the decision to leave the estate instead. He waited and waited and waited for some retaliation, but all he got in return was a whole lot of nothing. Watching his brother turn a little more sullen every day, descending into the fatal depths of melancholy revealed a dusty film at the back of his mind. 

Every time Hyunjin fell, Chris was there. Covered up for him whenever he could because they had each other and they would never leave one another. That was the one thing carved into their minds as they were growing up.

What Hyunjin had for you seemed way different than what Chris had. Maybe he had indeed confused his feelings for you with something else. Maybe there was a reason why he felt so inferior to his older brother. All Hyunjin knew was lust, yet Chris seemed to know better. He couldn’t help but think about what would change if you were gone from his life for good versus his brother’s. He thought about it for a long time.

It took some guts to finally admit it, but maybe you were Chris’ fire girl. Every once in a while she would pop into Hyunjin’s mind again, and his heart would ache. So much But that was in the past. If she knew what he had turned into, she would hate him.

The brothers had talked about being free for so long. They had dreamed about it. When Hyunjin was imprisoned, doing scandalous things was just his way of throwing a fit. So that he would be told he was not worthy. So that he would be let go. But then you appeared. You made his sentence bearable. Gave him a taste of something he had been missing for quite some time. Something that tasted very much like a piece of glazed cake.

Hyunjin was so consumed with vengeance vision that it caused him to lose perspective of a lot of things, which ended up scarring the one person he deep down cared about in this world. He couldn’t control himself for one night much like his brother, but then again, Chris would never come up with intricate plans to purposefully hurt him. He had just fallen a victim to his emotions some years ago.

Freedom. What a valuable thing. Yet no amount of money in this world was enough to have it. 

If you were willing to pay the price on the other hand…

Cut the cord.

He knew what he had to do to put an end to all this. He had to pull one last number. 

Even if it cost him his brother.

“Hello, brother. Going somewhere?”

Chris heard the door close and the lock being turned behind him. His eyes had turned into flamethrowers threatening to burn the entire place down out of sheer fury.

“We had each other, huh? We were supposed to never leave one another.”

“Yet you were about to,” Hyunjin disapprovingly tsked, “Here I am clinging to my older brother not to leave me. I’m doing exactly what I’m supposed to be doing.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Christopher the Great,” Hyunjin deliberately raised his voice and then segued to a diminuendo, “Loved by everyone. His subjects. His friends. His mother. Even by the one woman his little brother has fallen for.”

“What would you even know about love, Hyun?”

“Not to mention, she’s not even pure blood,” he contorted his face like he was reciting ridiculous facts, “What were you even thinking?”

“What were you thinking?”

“I’m afraid if I can’t have her, no one can.”

“ENOUGH!!!” 

The brothers were so engrossed in getting on each other’s nerves that they didn’t even hear the door open. Hyejin walked into her chambers with her eyes moist due to an alloy of rage and sorrow. She stopped right in front of her older son and declared with all the seriousness that ruled her being.

“You have my blessing if you accept to be the next in line, Christopher.

Chris froze in his place. So did Hyunjin, but for entirely different reasons. 

You’re going to ruin this, mother. 

“Just… Don’t go,” Hyejin’s voice trembled while squeezing her son's arms.

If she gave him the one thing he wanted, he would stay. He would stay forever and he would be happy. He could be happy here. There was absolutely no reason to leave.

“Please,” she begged as the tears ran down her face. Meanwhile, Hyunjin was drilling a hole in Chris’ face with his eyes.

Go. Don’t fall for it. At least one of us is capable of being decent and that’s not me.

When Chris finally made eye contact with his brother, he noticed something. His composure was still intact, but he was looking at him with almost pleading eyes. Like he was asking him to read between the lines. To get the message. 

He remembered this exact look from somewhere. 

High school sophomore year. Hyunjin knew Chris and his bandmates had been planning to break into the gym on a Friday after school and spend the night there. No matter how much he had begged his brother not to do it, Chris just turned a deaf ear to him.

“You’re too uptight, Hyun. You really need to loosen up a little. Nothing’s going to happen.”

“Something’s going to happen. Don’t go.”

“I’m being very careful. Mom and dad think we’ll be at practice for the upcoming competition. We’re not gonna get busted.”

“Not everything is about that, for fuck’s sake. You’re gonna get hurt!”

“Stop being paranoid, Hyun.”

Stubborn. He was just so fucking stubborn. He wouldn’t listen to him ever. Chris was furious to no end when Hyunjin appeared next to their homeroom teacher like he wanted to make it clear he was the one snitching on his brother stealing the gym keys. They had exchanged this exact same look that day when Chris received detention. Little did he know all Hyunjin was trying to do was to prevent his brother from getting beaten up to a pulp because ‘the drummer dude needed to be in bad shape’ to pass on the competition. The invasion of their gym by the delinquents of the neighboring high school was the talk of everyone for the following week.

Please, Chris. Do it for us. Leave. Be free. For good.

Chris’ eyes darted from Hyunjin to his mother and he almost spat the words.

“This throne and everything that reminds me of it can kindly go to goddamn hell, your highness.”

One day they could talk about it maybe. One day Chris would understand Hyunjin’s intentions behind what he did.

But today was not that day.

Chris and his mother’s deal was carved in stone: he had to prove himself if he wanted to be ‘ordinary’. Even if it killed her inside, she agreed to watch her older son forfeit everything and walk away from this life. Sending off a loved one into oblivion and not knowing if they would ever come back was a familiar feeling for Hyejin. She had done it once before. About two decades ago to be precise.

“You asked for me, mother?”

“Yes.”

Hyejin had called Hyunjin for their ritual Sunday tea. They would usually spend their mornings having a long and calm breakfast, talking about benign things as if they weren’t tiptoeing around much deeper stuff and being sarcastic with each other. That particular Sunday, she didn’t feel the need to observe the formalities and cut straight to the chase.

“Why did you do it?”

He also knew there was no point in trying to drag some things anymore. He took a long sip from his tea, eyes still on his mother’s, and calmly responded.

“If I didn’t give him a reason to leave for good, you were going to lure him back here again. Next thing you know, he can’t leave the grounds because he fucking breathed.” 

“That kind of language is highly redundant, Hyunjin.”

“I know how your mind works. You can deny it all you want, but I take after you, your highness,” he irritably smiled, “It’s okay if he hates me for the rest of his life, but I know it’s gonna kill you.”

“So you want to hurt me that much,” she reciprocated his smile with moist eyes.

“Somebody needed to remind you of the taste of your own medicine. You seem to have forgotten it.”

Hyejin looked at her son and heaved a tired sigh. There was nothing but bitterness and animosity radiating from him, but it wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t even his father’s fault—he hadn’t touched Hyunjin’s soul one bit. Whatever he had turned into, whatever he harbored inside him was the responsibility of only one person, and that was her.

“With Christopher gone, I need to name an heir. That means you’re going to be—”

“No.”

No? What did he mean no? She was offering him unlimited power to do whatever he pleased, what else was he asking for?

“Isn’t this what you’ve wanted all along?”

Hyunjin looked at her with an expression that almost spelled disdain.

“That’s really what you thought I wanted? A life sentence?” he questioned, somewhat nauseated, “I just wanted to be me, mother. I didn’t feel like taking you up on your challenge is all.”

“You do realize someone has to—”

“If you want this prison to remain intact, I suggest broadening your filters for an heir. Someone from the royal council would be nice.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He leaned into the white iron table and clasped his hands on it as the Sunday morning breeze brushed his hair.

“It means the second you announce my coronation and blast me to the public, I’m going to indulge in the most abominable things this reign has ever seen and force this entire lineage to fall from grace. Horrendously,” he tilted his head and posed his tranquil threat, “You’re welcome to try me.”

Hyejin was feeling the walls closing in on her, literally watching her other son also slipping away from her with every word he uttered. She felt tired. She felt defeated. She felt like she was coming back from war and she had no life left within herself anymore. Maybe that was why she wasn’t as quick with her retorts as she used to be.

“You held us captive here for years because of what? The man wanted to kiss someone.” 

“It’s not as easy as that, Hyunjin.”

“Nothing absolves what we’ve been through, mother.”

“Oh, is that so? Were you struggling while having the time of your life with your little playthings?”

Hyunjin’s face turned a couple of shades lighter at first for he was caught off guard, but it quickly returned to its original state.

“You knew, didn’t you? You knew what I was doing all this time,” he squinted his eyes, “Why did you let me get away with it?”

She was a queen. She was one of the strongest queens this country had ever seen. She was beauty. She was grace. She was the living epitome of what royalty should have looked and acted like.

But at the end of the day, she was still a mother.

“I can’t stand anything about this place,” Hyejin’s voice completely cracked, “I just couldn’t bear the thought of my sons leaving me to rot in this hell forever.”

“Even though you hated me?”

“I don’t hate you, Hyunjin.”

“But you don’t love me either, mother.”

“That’s not true,” she immediately replied and gestured the place next to her on the swing, “Come here.”

When Hyunjin sat down beside her, she pulled him close and laid his head down on her lap, which took him by surprise. She hadn’t done this in forever. It was such a distant memory that Hyunjin wasn’t sure whether he just saw it in a dream or not.

“There was one person I hated from the bottom of my soul, but it’s not you. It’s never been you,” she kept caressing his golden hair like she did when he was a kid, “But I acknowledge that it wasn’t fair to you that I projected it all on you. You remind me so much of him.”

“Father?” he looked up at her. She nodded in response.

“But you are you. Instead of using your beautiful face as a placeholder, I should have learned to make my peace with things,” she choked back her sobs, “I apologize.”

Hyunjin was temporarily teleported to the weekend mornings of his childhood. The frame in front of his eyes had a sepia filter. His mother looked younger. Happier. Lively. And she was kissing his hair.

You’re not my son. You’re my sun. You’re the most beautiful thing ever.

As if she was able to see what he was seeing with every stroke on her boy’s head, Hyejin softly uttered.

“You’re never going to stop being my sun. Ever.”

“Even though I’m broken beyond repair?”

“So what?”

He felt some wetness on his face like it started to rain all of a sudden. Hyejin was crying. So was Hyunjin. He slowly sat up and pulled his mother into his embrace. Maybe for the first time even.

“Do you want to be you?” she caressed her boy’s face as porcelain as hers, “Be you, sunshine. Be you away from here. You don’t deserve these chains, either. Nobody does.”

What a failure that this beautiful man felt like he had to do what he had to do because of her. What a catastrophe that she wasn’t able to save her son from himself when she could. What an absolute tragedy that she let herself be so haunted by the ghosts of her past that she wasn’t able to hear her sunshine’s cries for help, not until after his voice was completely gone.

“Just please don’t hate me anymore,” Hyejin let all the sobs she had been choking finally run free.

“Mom.”

Hyunjin placed a kiss on his mother’s forehead. Definitely for the first time. Yoongi had never kissed her forehead once. Maybe he wasn’t completely his father’s son after all.

“I don’t hate you. I just…” he tried his utmost best to avoid any landmines that could hurt her for once, “It’s just not fair that we were born into this.”

No, it wasn’t. None of this was fair. For anyone. If only she had the power to turn back time and do it all over again… She wouldn’t be able to promise to be mistake-free, but she would at least live to make her treasures happy the second time around.

“Don’t you ever want to be normal?”

“It doesn’t come with this job, sunshine,” Hyejin smiled through her tears, “It’s going to hurt so much at first, but I’ll be fine knowing my boys are happy somewhere. I will survive.”

“Or not.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she creased her brows in confusion.

“Didn’t you ever wish to be free?” he insisted, “Didn’t you ever wish to just be?”

“I wish I could, baby,” Hyejin squeezed his warm hands, “I really wish I could.”

“What if you can?”

Only Hyunjin would think of a solution as insane as this. Only he would propose to be reborn from their ashes in the pursuit of happiness. His tone was as nonchalant as it could ever be as if he was only suggesting an evening stroll.

“You do realize we have the means to fake our deaths, right?”

«TO BE CONTINUED»

AUTHOR'S NOTE

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See you in the series finale, fellas. I'm emotionally drained.

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DON'T LET ME LOVE YOU | Chapter 2

« PREVIOUS CHAPTER · «SERIES MASTERLIST»

«I’m fucking done with your teasing.»

CONNECTION 📜10.3k | Approx. 44-min. read 🚨Refer to series masterlist for general themes & warnings of this story: Heavy sexual tension and horniness galore, mentions of food, risqué behavior, rendezvous shenanigans, consensual filming of sexual acts, mentions of free use, narratophilia (mc talks about a cnc fantasy, it's not acted upon), aggressive semi-public sex (feat. marking, groping, spanking), sex toys, nipple play, spitting, cumplay/cum eating, unprotected sex, creampie. 💭Reblogs & comments are always appreciated and please keep in mind they are the ultimate motivation fuel. 🍮Like my content? Consider supporting my work with a pudding!

This chapter features NSFW audio purely for the sake of an immersive story experience. Should you choose to listen to it, please proceed at your own risk.

When the clock turned from PM to AM, it was time for your demons to run loose. 

You uncaged them and allowed them to say whatever the fuck they wanted into your ears. Sometimes they would be so mean, whispering things to remind you of what a terrible human being you were, and you let them. You knew you deserved that punishment every once in a while for everything you had done with complete disregard for anything other than yourself.

Some other times, however, they would just sit next to you and relentlessly tempt you. Persuade you into doing things you knew were wrong by an average person’s moral compass. Then again, you were no average person, and your compass was long broken, so you let them coax you, cajole you into turning into an absolute menace. To society, to the people around you.

To yourself.

Much like that night as you were wrapped in a blanket on the swing on your balcony with your peach vodka in your hand. 

The cold, delicious drink was awfully reminiscent of Chris. So sweet. Refreshing. You fucking knew it needed to be consumed in moderation, but the buzz wouldn’t even set in until you downed a couple of glasses, conveniently giving you the false impression that there wasn’t even any alcohol in it. You would only realize you were completely smashed when you attempted to get up, and by then it would already be too late. 

There you were, on your balcony, wrapped in your blanket, thinking about Chris again. You were never not thinking about Chris.

It was a terrifying thing to notice, but ever since the dinner party at his place, something had shifted inside you. You wished you were making it up, but you knew something had changed for him, too.

You darted your eyes from the tar-like night sky to your phone when you heard the notification sound.

Chris I can’t stop thinking about you How the fuck am I supposed to go back now that I know what your skin on mine feels like?

No ‘Hey’, no greeting, nothing—he just got straight to the point. Little did he know, you were pondering the exact same thing while very much drunk. You weren’t even sure if you were drunk on the vodka or Chris at this point, and it was driving you insane that you didn’t know why this was happening to you. He could have very well been a patron in one of the clubs you used to dance at. Would you feel this intensely about him then, too?

You Who says you need to go back? Chris I’m serious You So am I Chris [Typing…] Then where do we go from here?

Where would you go from here? You had already crossed a line, and it seemed like both of you had picked up an instant addiction. To be fair, it was most likely a very strong infatuation for both of you. Maybe it was the fact that he was taken. Maybe it had been just too long since someone else made him cum. And maybe things just got lost in translation afterwards.

Then why the fuck were you instantly excited just thinking about him?

You Are you familiar with the term ‘free use’ Dr. Bang? Chris As in [Typing…] With benefits? You All the benefits you can think of I think we both know your stroker can’t make you cum as hard as I can Just come over whenever you wanna blow off some steam Chris [Typing…] Can I come over right now?

What?

At this hour? Was Casey away? You were already trapped between the blurry lines of tipsy and drunk; you wouldn’t even be able to live up to the expectations you set for yourself.

But you really, really, really wanted to see Chris. Everybody had a weakness, and maybe he had become yours.

You Sure

In about thirty seconds, you heard a faint knock on your door. You almost trampled yourself on the way over how excited you were. You were acutely aware of how ridiculous it was for you to feel this way, but still…

When you opened the door and locked eyes with Chris, neither of you said anything for five seconds. Seeing him in the flesh felt like a cold splash of water on your face, and for some reason, he looked like he instantly came to his senses, as well.

“I have no fucking clue what I was thinking. This looks really bad I know, I swear I’m not actually like this. I just…” Chris let out a defeated sigh, “I really wanted to see you.”

The feeling in the pit of your stomach shapeshifted all of a sudden. You were overcome with an intense surge of affection and endearment towards him.

“I know,” you spoke with a smile.

Chris could be many things, but one thing he wasn’t was a bad person. He wasn’t like you. He wasn’t like most people you had known for that matter. He was a human being with flaws, but you knew his heart was in the right place.

Because he was not like you.

“Just so you know, the benefits involve unlimited talking privileges,” you flashed your car keys at him, “How about we go for a drive instead?”

He broke into a smile and nodded. Meanwhile, you grabbed your jacket and handed your keys to him.

“You’re driving,” you instructed him while closing your front door, “Can we stop by a drive-thru? I need me some trash food to sober up.”

You didn’t even give a damn if you were seen or not. If anybody fucking asked, you just called a friend to take you to your beloved burgers because you were in no state to drive by yourself and the damn place wouldn’t deliver at this hour. End of story. 

You cruised on the empty streets for a while. With your head resting on the passenger seat window, you watched Chris’ silhouette as he drove with all his attention on the road. Neither of you talked, but the silence wasn’t awkward. It was needed, actually; it enveloped the two of you in a soothing bubble of serenity. Judging by the way he was comfortably sprawled behind the steering wheel rather than assuming his usual tense posture, Chris seemed to be able to breathe easy. It put a smile on your face.

“Do you really know five languages?” Chris asked in the parking lot before munching on his burger. You looked at him with a judgmental ‘I beg your fucking pardon?’ look while slurping on your drink, and responded.

“多分。”

“Was that Japanese?”

“Yyyup.”

He let out a very entertained giggle and continued his questions like he was interviewing you.

“So what are your favorite places around here so far?”

“Librerías y papelerías. Son muy bonitas.”

“How did you even decide on which languages to study for?”

“Qui cherche, trouve, chéri.”

“Not gonna lie, I’m a little turned on right now.”

“야 그만해라.”

His giggles turned into their final and most devastating form, and you laughed along with him. At that empty parking lot, Chris felt like he was making his first genuine connection with someone after what seemed like several forevers. For once, there was no hidden agenda to be in his good graces. No underhanded motive. Nothing about money, power, influence, or whatever the fuck else these people loved around here. Just two people enjoying each other’s company, talking about the most random things they could think of while scarfing down burgers and driving back home at some godforsaken time of the night.

All this time you two were alone. You could have done things if one of you so much as insinuated something, but you didn’t even kiss. It felt like both of you were in dire need of something much more humane than an animalistic impulse. 

And it felt nice for a change.

“Whenever you wanna blow off steam,” you quietly uttered as Chris was about to leave, having considerably sobered up by then, “Just talk to me, okay?”

He gave you a smiling nod and made his way back to his own prison. Talk to you. Talking to you was the easiest thing in the world.

One trip to some fast food joint at 2 AM. That was all it took for you both to form a new habit.

Your night drives with Chris became somewhat regular. Granted, you had much more ulterior motives when you first brought up free use, but this version seemed to be just as nice. One of you would shoot a text to the other, you would meet, and drive to some parking lot to grab a bite, watch the sea, or just talk. That confined space of your vehicles turned into somewhat of a bootleg therapist’s office where you got a little bit closer to each other every time. You were both a little too experienced with reading between the lines, so no excruciating details needed to be depicted. You talked about your love for thistles. He talked about growing up with his grandmother, and how he decided to leave the country for good no postcards from his mom later. 

“Is there a reason you came to Sunderland specifically?”

“The commercials looked really nice,” you shrugged, “I’ve always been a nomad. Wanted to take a stab at settling down by myself for a change. My ex husband didn’t seem to understand the concept very well.”

“Your… your ex husband?”

“I used to be married.”

Even though his eyes spelled “Really?” he didn’t say anything out loud.

You were sort of baiting Chris with moderately outrageous facts about yourself to assess his reactions. Just to confirm whether your intuition about him was true. He was never once judgemental like the most people populating this town. He didn’t shame you. Didn’t break into monologues about morals, or doing the right thing, or whatever. Even when you told him what you used to do for a living.

You were lowkey hoping he would do or say something to disappoint you because otherwise…

“Well, you gotta do what you gotta do to survive,” he shrugged instead, “Don’t expect the people here to understand you, though, because they can’t.”

The first commandment of being a nomad was not to get attached. To anything. Anywhere. Anyone. All you did so far was rental exchanges with strangers for your own entertainment, pleasure, or personal gains, and that was it. You didn’t give a fuck about the other person because you were only supposed to look out for yourself. It had always been that way.

That was exactly why connecting with Chris to this extent made you panic for your dear life because you didn’t know what you were capable of doing if you actually fell for someone. You were trying your hardest to tread with caution, but it felt like trying to find your way in pitch-black darkness by only touching the things around you, not knowing what they were or where you were even going.

One night as you were on a quest for the donuts he wouldn’t shut up about, Chris went on and on and on about the beaches back home. The way he talked about it like a kid on a sugar high endeared the crap out of you. With each word he uttered, you felt something swell in your chest.

Something was indeed happening to you, and you fucking hated that feeling.

“Damn, man, did the Ministry of Tourism commission you to be their ambassador or something?” 

“I wish,” he widened his eyes, “That would have been the dream. I love the sea.”

“You surf?”

“I used to.”

“What else do you like?”

“I mean… donuts,” he held up the half-bitten piece of pastry in his hand. You giggled.

“What do you hate then?”

As he was swallowing his bite, Chris creased his brows. He took a long while to come up with an answer, but he was still empty-handed by the end of it.

“No one’s ever asked me that question before.”

“How about I go first then?” you shifted in your seat, “For example, I hate olives.”

“Oh,” he quickly scanned the index of his strong dislikes, “In that case, I hate pineapples in my burger.”

“What the hell do you have against pineapples? They’re delicious!”

“Hey, I’m a pineapple juice lover, okay?” he dramatically emphasized, “There are some things you just should not put in your food is all I’m saying.”

“Fair enough,” you punctuated the pseudo-argument with a smile.

After his laughter faded, Chris’ aura changed colors. He looked way too somber all of a sudden and put the donut back into the box, seemingly having lost his appetite. You examined his face trying to understand what was wrong, but before you could even ask a question, the words spilled from his lips on their own.

“I hate that I have to pretend.”

You grabbed the box, shoved it into the glove compartment, and scooted a little closer to him. You held his chin and turned his face towards yours to look into his eyes.

“Pretend what?”

He finally locked his eyes with you and responded in a tone stuck between angry and sad.

“That I don’t hate things.”

“If you don’t mind me observing,” you rolled the words in your mouth for a little while and finally spat them out, “You’re not sleeping with your wife, are you?”

The only reply you received was a silent shake of the head as he was looking away.

“Because?”

Chris heavily exhaled and leaned into his seat.

“You can’t really bring yourself to touch someone you detest with your entire being.”

“Then why are you even married to this person?” you questioned, “Unhappy people getting a divorce is not unheard of, you know?”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

He brokenly smiled and turned to his right to look at you so that you knew how sincere his wish was.

“I really hope I can tell you someday.”

You reflected his broken smile back at him and wiped the Bavarian cream clinging to the corner of his mouth. Chris inadvertently flinched when you touched him out of the blue and immediately sat up straight.

“I– I don’t think you understand my frustration levels,” he cleared his throat, “I’m one minor contact away from having an accident, so please…”

You chuckled, “If you’re one minor contact away, how do you deal with your clients every day?”

“You know the profile of my clientele, right?”

“Oh, come on! Surely some hot piece of ass walks into your office every once in a while to rejuvenate her vagina or something.”

“I mean, occasionally, yeah,” he spoke matter-of-factly, “But they’re my patients. I’m not attracted to them.”

“You have a type?”

Chris couldn’t help his smile at your incessant mischievous questioning with that grin slapped on your face, and brazenly responded.

“Yes, I do.” 

Only silence ensued as he was looking at you intently. After several seconds, you pointed your finger at yourself questioningly, and when he nodded, you bust out a cackle.

“So you like ‘em flirty and promiscuous.”

“No, I like ‘em fearless and dangerous.”

Your mutual giggling eventually died down, and you were just looking at one another, attentively examining the little details on each other’s faces. His eyes eventually darted to your lips, reminding him of what they looked like wrapped around him not too long ago, and he felt a warm sensation rapidly spread in the pit of his stomach.

Goddammit…

He was doing so fucking well up until that moment. Chris was beyond frustrated, not because he didn’t get laid, but because he couldn’t touch you. Sexting or masturbating to you wasn’t enough anymore. Feeling you just once wasn’t enough. It hadn’t been enough for quite some time. He needed to fuck you. He needed to fuck you right here right now. Hard. Fast. Sloppy. Into his backseat. Fuck you until you fogged all the windows of his car. Choke you until you begged for some air. Grope you until you had bruises on you in the exact shape of his fingerprints. Kiss you until your skin was healed. Finger you until your eyes rolled back. Eat your pussy until you arched into his mouth. If only he wasn’t able to smell how wet you were between your legs because now that he could, it was getting way too hard to restrain himself with each passing second.

Just why the fuck did your scent have to be so… fucking… delicious?!?!

He closed his eyes, licked his lips, and took a very deep breath to seemingly calm himself, which was to no avail because as much as he was able to sense you, you were able to notice the strain under his pants, too. You scooted even closer to him and placed your hand on his thigh to gently caress it.

“Should I take this as a compliment then?”

Chris was embarrassingly hard already, and your touch was not helping his situation at all. Why, yes, you should take that as a goddamn compliment because were you even aware how many times he had to touch himself in a single day because of you?

“Please…”

You weren’t able to hold back anymore either. Once the spark from that match was alive, there was no turning back. It immediately turned into an uncontainable fire. You leaned into his reddening ear which looked like smoke was about to come out of it any second now.

“I want you, Chris.”

“Please,” he couldn’t dare open his eyes, “Don’t… Don’t prey on my weakness like that.”

But how could you not when he specifically told you not to in that desperate voice of his? Having had a knack for languages for so long, you knew exactly what that translated into.

Keep going and I will not take any responsibility for what happens.

“Your weakness?” you started sliding your hand up his thigh, “Is that what you call being touch-starved?”

“No, it’s– it’s you,” he thickly gulped, “Please.”

His words said Have mercy, but the fine print said something else. If you stopped right then and there, he was probably going to go back home and wreck everything in his garage into a pile of debris out of sheer frustration. Then wouldn’t having mercy be the complete opposite of what his lips were saying?

“I want you bad,” you placed a kiss on his earlobe, “I know you want me, too.”

“Please.”

You brushed your nose on his cheek, and when you spoke against his skin, your warm breath carried your words right to the pit of his stomach.

“You keep thinking about us, too, don’t you?” you loosened the button of his jeans, “You touch yourself to how incredible it felt in my mouth, don’t you handsome?”

“Please!”

“It’s just you and me. Just two people who deliriously want each other. Nothing more, nothing less.”

And when you finally touched his neck and whispered loudly in his ear with that much air—

“Fuck me, gorgeous.”

“ENOUGH!”

Chris jolted in his seat like he was electrocuted and grabbed your face.

“I’m fucking done with your teasing.”

Ironically enough, your first kiss came way later than the first time you made him cum. It was a kiss. A goddamn kiss, but by god, you had never experienced something this erotically charged before. The way he kissed you felt like he was trying to invade the void in your soul. When you touched his torso under his shirt, you almost charred your skin for his temperature was a million degrees. You were scared he was going to suffer a seizure or something due to acute fever.

“God, you’re so fucking hot. Who the fuck told you to be this fucking hot?”

Chris lowered your seat all the way back with one pull of a lever, and you started stripping each other a little too roughly like your life was at stake. He actually managed to rip off several buttons of your shirt and tore the lace of your bra, immediately latching himself to your nipples on sight. He was way too enthused for his own good, and you could feel him gently biting on the pebbled skin while getting rid of your pants in the meantime.

Why the fuck did you love getting tossed around by him this much?

“I want you,” Chris breathed into your neck, “Endlessly.”

You’d had your fair share of steamy encounters. Well, you’d had a lot of people’s share of steamy encounters for that matter, but you were aware of what those entailed. Both parties were always a placeholder. Temporary. Disposable.

Nobody had ever wanted you before.

“Gosh, you’re soaked,” Chris brought his thumb dangerously close to your clit and ogled you with his lips parted.

You were so goddamn slippery and on edge that the way he kept denying you contact annoyed the shit out of you. When you attempted to buck your hips for a little bit of friction, he groped your thighs and pinned you down.

“Behave.”

Sunkissed friendly guys who would get you soaked just with their filthy mouths. 

Well-behaved guys who were into kinky shit behind closed doors. 

Considerate guys who would mark their girls in their beds. 

Laid-back guys who fucking lost their shit when someone else touched what was theirs. 

Turns out, Chris was one of them.

“Don’t fucking act like you don’t wanna bury your face there,” you grabbed his wrists, “Now I’m gonna soak you.”

With one quick reflex, you straddled him and started grinding your clit against his rock hard cock. A throaty groan ripped from his throat. You felt him grope your ass as he made out with your neck. He was gasping for air against your skin. You inadvertently moaned when he landed a spank on your hips. The moment you locked eyes with him again, you saw how content he was with your reaction, biting on his lips with a twisted smile.

“God, you’re into some messed up stuff, aren’t you?”

“What are you gonna do if I am?” Chris shoved his fingers into your mouth, “Do you mind if I use this real quick?”

He loved the way you started swirling your tongue around his fingers, letting out sharp exhales each time you sucked on them. The deeper you took them in your mouth, the louder he moaned.

“I wanna do so many things to you,” you pressed your forehead against his.

“Do fucking everything to me.”

“You said everything,” you slithered your hands behind his nape, “No takebacks.”

“But I can’t wait that long.”

“Fucking use me. I know you’re sick of it,” you grabbed him by his neck, “Eat me alive.”

“Stop talking like that!” he grunted almost in the form of a whine. Meanwhile, you just shamelessly grinned at him.

“Why? Because treating me like a cumdump is disrespectful?”

“STOP!”

He turned you around in his lap, aligned his leaking length with your entrance, and pressed you closer to him so that your back was flush against his chest.

“Sit on it,” he firmly instructed you, “I wanna disappear into you.”

As you lowered yourself, Chris also pushed you down from your thighs, and you almost imploded for the sensation was way too overwhelming.

“Fucking—!”

“I can feel how creamy you are on my cock, fucking christ,” he rested one hand on your breast and spread your thighs further apart with the other, “Ain’t no way I’m not cumming inside.”

Chris felt fucking incredible inside you. He was pounding into you so hard and fast that pornographically sloppy sounds accompanied the echo of both your moans in the car.

“How does it feel sitting on me? As good as you imagined?”

“Fucking better.”

“Feel every inch,” he kissed your neck, “Every… fucking… inch. You did this to me.”

You threw your arm behind you to hold onto his nape and rested your head on his shoulder. Not too long after, he started rubbing your clit with his wet fingers while marking hickeys on your neck.

“Harder! I said eat me alive.”

“The fuck are you doing to me?”

He started thrusting into you with sharper movements, and when you started contracting, it basically spelled his impending doom.

“Don’t clench. Don’t… clench!”

“But I’m gonna.”

“Don’t— FUCK!!!”

Chris barely lasted five minutes. The way he violently spurted inside you, the way he clenched his teeth and moaned against your skin, the way he rode out his orgasm… It was all so hot to witness that you didn’t even give a fuck you didn’t get to cum.

“I’m– I’m so sorry. I couldn’t—”

“It’s fine,” you chuckled, “Didn’t that feel really good just now?”

“It really did,” he rested his head against your temple, “I’d forgotten what fucking feels like.”

You carefully got off him and laid down in the backseat as Chris hugged you. You kept caressing his unruly hair until he caught his breath. Unfortunately for you, right at that moment that swelling feeling in your chest tightened, and you felt something click like it got permanently locked inside.

Please don’t let me love you, gorgeous. Otherwise, we’re fucking doomed.

Ever since that day, you started observing Casey a lot more closely whenever you saw her. What she was doing, what kind of a person she actually was, the fucking front she was putting up, and tried to understand the reason why. Chris didn’t say he didn’t want to get a divorce. He said he couldn’t, and you just fucking knew this bitch had something to do with it. 

It was somewhat tolerable when you watched her doing some domestic shit in her garden from afar, waving at each other with fake smiles, but it was straight up making your skin crawl whenever she was right in your face.

“Oh my god, your garden is a mess!” she shrieked pointing at the thistles, and scared the crap out of you, “Do you need a gardener? I can give the number of ours to you. He does a fantastic job weeding out our yard.”

“Oh, this is very much voluntary,” you replied all unfazed, “I’m growing them myself.”

“Really?” she contorted her face in mild disgust, “Why would you grow thistles when you could have beautiful roses and jasmine shrubs instead?”

It took everything in your willpower not to smack her with the pruning shears in your hand.

“I’m a little busy. Did you need something?”

“Oh, nothing, I just wanted to say hi,” Casey flashed a disgustingly sweet smile and waved, “Toodles!”

The second she was at a safe distance, you mumbled to yourself through your teeth.

“It’s not like I’m growing cannabis here, you Sharpay Evans looking-ass cunt.”

“You’re not gonna believe what happened the other night,” Nathalie appeared out of thin air, giving you your second heart attack within a span of two minutes, “Inside. Now.”

She looked somewhat distraught, so you immediately dropped everything and followed her to the kitchen area.

“Is everything okay sweetie?” you took out the gloves from your hand and brought out a pitcher of sangria from the fridge, “Did those bitches do something again? Whose ass do I have to kick?”

“It’s not like that. Sit,” Nathalie fervently patted the couch and went off, “You know the Lees down the street, right?” 

“I think?”

“I was at the farmer’s market on Monday morning, and I ran into Chaeryong.”

“Oh, right, I remember her,” you snapped your fingers, “Contrary to her counterparts, she seems like a nice lady, actually. All quiet and everything.”

“I know, right?” Nathalie widened her eyes and flapped her hand quickly, “Anyway, we sort of started shopping together and then she invited me for brunch.”

“Bitch, you’re brunch-cheating on me?!”

“Will you fucking listen?” she slapped your thigh, “We get to talking, and then all of a sudden she asks me if Jisung and I would be interested in an exclusive party they’re hosting. Apparently, they get together every month.”

“Something like Casey’s pretentious-ass dinner party?”

“I thought so. I say ‘Sure’ and Ji and I drag our asses to the address she’s given me. It’s like this big-ass mansion, right? We’re greeted by a butler. A fucking butler!”

“Whose house even was this?” you furrowed your brows and refilled your glass.

“I don’t know!” Nathalie squealed with gigantic eyes, “I thought it was going to be a restaurant or something at first. Almost everything inside is marble, and then we’re escorted to what I thought was going to be a dining room.”

“It– it wasn’t?”

“Oh, there was some eating going on alright,” she took a very deep breath and punctuated her story, “Bitch, it was a whole-ass swinger party going on inside!”

Your jaw dropped all the way to the floor so fast that there was surely a dent in your hardwood floors now. A swinger party? In fucking suburbia galore? You started to die laughing.

“What the fuck did you guys do?!”

“We freaked out and went home!” Nathalie downed her entire glass, “But somehow that whole scene… It unlocked something for us.”

“How so?” 

“When we got back home Jisung seemed a little too… riled up,” she uttered somewhat bashfully, “Talking about how he would knock a bitch out if they dared touch his girl and shit.”

“And? Did he finally hit that like you wanted?”

Clearly replaying her memories in her head, she melted into the couch.

“God, it was the best sex of my goddamn life.”

You started laughing even louder, but at the end of the day good for your friend, right? Effective proof right there that disasters were indeed salvageable. 

“It’s always the quiet ones, I swear,” you wiped the tears from your eyes, “See? Instead of waiting for the neighborhood deviants to point shit out to you, you should talk to each other more often.”

“I didn’t know how I would ease into it, but I guess anything I bring up will be way too tame compared to this now,” she leaned back into her seat, “So yeah. What have you been up to lately?”

Well, I finally fucked Chris, and it blew my goddamn mind, was what you wanted to say, but for some reason, you couldn’t really bring yourself to reveal this piece of information to your friend yet. Technically, you weren’t lying to her; you just... didn’t bring it up.

“Nothing much,” you smiled at her, “Sangria?”

Nathalie hung out with you until the evening hours, and once you saw her off, you briefly questioned yourself regarding why you chose to hide the whole Chris situation. Were you feeling bad about it? No. Would you do it again? Hell, yeah. Were you aware that it wasn’t exactly the right thing to do?

Well, technically…

Right before a whole-ass debate broke out inside your head, your phone screen lit up with a notification from Chris.

Chris Since I’m kinda bored at the office Bets open How many times did I cum to that ass since the last time I last saw you?

Boom! Your logic? Gone. Common sense? Gone. Immediately. You sprawled on your couch and responded to him.

You Four Chris Eleven I keep replaying it in my head I can still feel you under my touch

You involuntarily bit into your smile because samesies. You were sort of scared to bring it up again, especially after that weird post-sex feeling, but you never stopped thinking about that night, either. It was under control when you were just relying on your imagination, but now that you had actual evidence of what Chris felt like in all your five senses, you were the one who was one minor contact away from having an accident.

You Did I ever tell you That your voice drives me fucking crazy? Let me hear it again [IMG304.jpeg] Here’s a little motivation 

Right after you sent the text involving a picture of your breasts squeezed together, you started waiting for the indicator to change with bated breath. After what felt like hours, there it was again, exciting you way too much on cue.

Chris [Recording audio…]

Your hand reached inside your underwear, and you started caressing yourself with very gentle touches. Just the thought of Chris jerking off to you right now was so fucking hot you didn’t even need to hear the audio itself to get wet.

Then you finally got the notification you were waiting for.

The way he kept hissing, the wet sounds of him stroking himself, the little whimpers he let out every now and then, panting and moaning to an image of you… It was fucking customized porn. Unadulterated, top-notch, cutting-edge, state-of-the-art quality porn made just for you.

Oh, you’re fucking killing me with this.

But the important question was why were you touching yourself all alone in your living room when he could be touching you?

Your wits spectacularly lost the battle against your urges. Shortly after, you found yourself getting ready as fast as you could and driving to his clinic. 

Between you leaving home and arriving at his building, the sky lost complete consciousness and turned from dusk to pitch-black. Even as you were riding the elevator eighteen floors up, your rationality was still nowhere to be found. You caught a glimpse of Chris taking out his white coat through the open door to his office. Very casually. As if he didn’t indulge in some shameless acts not too long ago. Seeing him in the flesh looking like that, your sanity peaced out for good. You watched yourself push the glass door open and walk into that lobby with a ridiculous amount of confidence.

“Good evening, Dr. Bang,” you called out to him.

Chris was stunned to see you right before his eyes as though he somehow manifested you there out of sheer willpower. Before giving him a chance to speak, you continued.

“I apologize for the last-minute consult. I’m aware I don’t have an appointment and it’s late, but I really need this resolved as soon as possible. You see, my boyfriend’s coming to town.”

“Dr. Bang, I’m taking off for today.”

“Uh– Thanks, Stacy. I’ll see you on Monday,” Chris saw the woman behind the information desk off and called you in, “Please come in.”

You followed him into his office, your heart thumping in your ears for some reason. 

“Your boyfriend?” Chris raised his brows questioningly. You, on the other hand, were entertained out of your mind.

“Your receptionist needed something to chew on, no?”

His relief was so obvious from the way he deeply exhaled. It was quite endearing, actually.

“You’re crazy,” he started laughing.

“And you get a kick out of it,” you started walking towards his chair, “Actually, there might really be something wrong with me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been told you’re the best doctor in town for this, so I think you can really help me with my problem,” you sat on his desk and spoke with a solemn voice, “Do you also happen to specialize in sexual health, Dr. Bang?”

Chris was sort of caught off-guard as he was expecting a legitimate consult on his professional opinion. He did his best to try to suppress his laughter and responded as seriously as he could manage.

“I’d like to assure you all my clients leave here figuring out what works for them, and they carry on enjoying a healthy sex life.”

“Oh, I’m not here to figure things out. I know what works for me.“

“Then what’s the purpose of your visit?”

You got up from the desk and made yourself comfortable in his lap. The way you brushed your fingers against his neck gave him goosebumps.

“I have a problem getting enough.”

“Insatiability,” a shadow of a smile passed through his lips, “Well, that’s a first.”

The second you took his full lips between yours, you started melting into each other again. You kept teasing one another with little touches here and there, scared to lose complete control if you did anything more than that.

“Did you miss me?”

“A lot,” Chris spoke against your lips, “You’re like bad drugs I swear to fucking god…”

“Touch me,” you brought his hands around your waist, “I don’t care where. Just touch me.”

The way you started moaning into each other’s mouths gradually more loudly was the signal that this was about to get out of hand pretty quickly. You broke the kiss before either of you started doing something earthshatteringly stupid.

“Down for a little escapade with me?”

“H-here?”

“One of these days, I am gonna fuck you in your office, and you’re not gonna be able to look at this place the same,” you chuckled and fixed the collar of his shirt, “but today is not that day.”

“Where do you wanna go then?”

“Somewhere only we know. Just to be safe,” you started explaining the little plan you concocted, “Come to the parking lot in ten minutes and follow my car. We’ll drive separately. I’ll go in first. You’ll come sometime after me and ask for a single room with a single bed. Just to cover our bases. I’ll be waiting for you by the elevators, Dr. Bang.”

A thirty-minute drive later, there you were. In the lobby of The Ritz in Mayweather. 

You checked into a suite with a sea view and started going through your phone mindlessly until your person of interest stood right next to you to call for an elevator. He didn’t even have to say anything; his sandalwood scent made you keenly aware of his presence anyway.

The second those elevator doors closed behind you you were all over each other. Tongues clashing, bites on lips, tugs of the flesh. You felt his hand slithering up your thigh.

“Finger me.”

Chris hastily turned you around, spat on his fingers, and slid his hand inside your underwear.

“You got twenty three floors to cum,” he pressed your body against the mirror, “Show me what you got.”

He was quietly moaning while making out with your neck as he fingered you. You could feel how hard he was getting on your hips, and you were both fogging the mirror with how heavily you were breathing. 

“Just give it to me.”

“Faster. Right– right there!”

If you had a little more time you could actually cum on his fingers maybe, but you were severely cockblocked by the sound telling you you’d reached your floor.

“Tsk, this won’t do,” Chris licked his fingers, “I told you you got twenty three floors.”

When you walked into the spacious room, the first thing Chris did was pour drinks for both of you to chug. You could feel that his aura was a little different. There was a delicious flicker of danger emitting from him. When you attempted to unbutton his shirt, he stopped you.

“You know what, I have an idea,” he poured himself another drink and pointed at the bed, “Sit.”

You had no clue what it was about him that night that made you want to follow each and every instruction, but you just did. Chris dragged a chair right in front of you and leaned back with one ankle resting on his other knee. Then he took his phone out.

“Do you mind if I get a souvenir?” he playfully smirked, “I think it’s only fair if you returned the favor.”

“Go ahead,” you reciprocated his smile.

“Strip for me.”

He sipped on his drink as you undressed, licking his lips with every piece of clothing you took off.

“Spread your legs wide.”

He zoomed in to get a close-up of your pussy and smiled to himself.

“Lay down,” he continued his instructions, “Now you’re gonna touch yourself and let me watch you,” 

“Can I use aids?”

“Why, of course.”

You reached out for your purse and took out the bullet vibrator you were carrying in your wallet because fuck a lipstick, this was a girl’s best friend.

“Close your eyes,” Chris started speaking in a huskier tone, the giveaway sign of how turned on he was, “I want you to tell me everything you want me to do to you.” 

“Everything?” you softly chuckled, “Sure you’re not gonna get scared?”

“Try me. I haven’t always been a suburbia guy,” he nonchalantly uttered, “I have some conditions, though.”

“I’m listening.”

“If you can do those things to yourself, you’re gonna manifest me on your body,” he savored the taste of the gin on his tongue, “Wanna get your pretty pussy eaten? I’d better see you dripping.”

You weren’t sure whether it was the alcohol or the sense of freedom that transformed Chris into this, but you absolutely weren’t complaining. You made a mental note of each and every thing he said like a meticulous student.

“Want me to make you scream? You’d better stop it with those quiet moans. You act like you don’t actually want me to drill you into that mattress? Just lazy rubs on that clit? That’s all you’re getting from me.”

His voice was commanding. Enthralling. Categorically tantalizing. You couldn’t even remember whether anybody else was ever able to get you this worked up.

“But if you can show me what you exactly want?” Chris carried on with his directions, “Then I’ll show you I can do it way better than you can ever do to yourself.”

He downed half his glass in one go and pressed record.

“You may begin.”

May. He said fucking may like he was giving you goddamn permission to entertain him for his viewing pleasure. 

You wished you didn’t salivate over this cocky side of Chris.

“You and I are out, having drinks. Away from anybody we ever know. Just the two of us,” you started fondling your breasts, “I look a bit too good, and you’re not so bad yourself.”

You felt the soft sound of his amused chuckle tickling your ears. Your hand started sliding down your torso, and you started caressing your pussy with gentle movements.

“There’s a guy in the corner ogling me. He seems like he doesn’t really care that you’re there with me. I excuse myself to the restroom. When I come out, he’s right there, asking for my number,” you dragged your fingers on your tongue to get them wet and started playing with your nipple, “I tell him I’m not interested and come back to the table. Unfortunately for me, you see this exchange.”

You applied more pressure on your pussy, which elicited a moan out of you. Per your instructions, you didn’t try to suppress it. You started rubbing your clit to get yourself wetter.

“You ask me what the hell that was and I tell you it’s nothing. Because it is nothing. I only have eyes for you. Even when you’re not with me, I can’t stop thinking about you. You know that, but you act like you don’t believe me. You’re so gone with jealousy that you see red. You grab me by my wrist and drag me to an alley outside. It excites the fuck out of me.”

“Pay attention to how your clit is throbbing,” Chris spoke with a low voice, “Keep caressing yourself.”

You grabbed the vibrator sitting next to you, clicked on it, and started dragging it on your pussy.

“You shove me against the wall and slide my dress up. It angers you that I have underwear on. You rip it off me and tell me to arch my ass. I say I don’t want to, but you know I do. You know I want you to do completely disrespectful, borderline illegal things to me,” you spread your legs wider and began fucking yourself, “If I told you what I really want you to do, I would sound like an absolute masochist that needs to be institutionalized. You awaken the worst parts of me and I fucking love it.”

Chris let out a loud groan indicative of how he was about to pass a precarious threshold, and it pleased you more than you were pleasing yourself.

“Lick your own juices,” he firmly ordered you, “Then finger yourself.”

You turned off the vibrator and sucked on it as if you were sucking on him to get him to cum. Then you pushed two fingers inside you while pinching your nipples.

“I love the way you fuck, gorgeous. I love how mad you are. I love how you’re overcome with this urge to put me in my place. I fucking love the way you ruthlessly take it out on me.”

You were panting and moaning to this make-believe scenario you depicted for him, and Chris couldn’t really calculate that this sight was going to cause him to cum untouched if he let you keep going. It was just too hot to handle.

“Stop.”

You halted your movements and waited for further instructions while catching your breath.

“Sit up. Look at me.”

You did as you were told and locked eyes with him. He was still filming you.

“How much do you want me?”

“Endlessly,” you echoed his haunting declaration back to him. 

He hurriedly unbuckled his belt and dropped his pants. The sight of his precum induced an intense desire in you to just lap at it.

“Open up,” he guided his cock into your mouth, “Suck it deep for me.”

You looked right into the lens while blowing him to give him his ultimate personal porn. The way he was reacting to you with his loud groans was fucking everything.

“My pretty girl,” he placed his hand on your head, “That’s it, choke on it.”

Your enthusiasm suddenly tripled when he called you that. You took more of him down your throat while swirling your tongue around him.

“Goddamn, you’re so fucking good at this,” he threw his head back in pure ecstasy, “Deeper. Take it deeper.”

As he was guiding your head, Chris got a little too excited and started fucking into your mouth. 

“Do it again,” his voice came out as a desperate plea, “Make me cum hard in your mouth again.”

When you started moaning on his cock, that was simply the last straw for him. You felt the warm, bitter liquid shooting down your throat, and once his tremors died down, he stopped the recording.

“That was for me. Now we’re gonna make something for you,” he handed you the phone, “Give me your vibrator.”

“Damn, no ‘please’ or anything?” you sarcastically laughed.

“Did I sound like I was asking? Because I wasn’t.”

Good fucking god, who the fuck was this man because you were losing your whole entire shit over him. You watched Chris strip and nestle himself between your legs.

“No cumming until I tell you to.”

“Because?”

“Because I fucking said so.” 

At this rate, you would jump off that window if he asked you to because it was getting impossible to say no to him.

“Now film me.”

He started caressing your nipples with his thumbs just to watch the way the skin hardened. Zero hurry. Compared to some of your other erogenous zones, your breasts weren’t that sensitive. At least, you had always thought so.

That night you learned what would happen if someone actually took their sweet time working you.

“It’s a shame, really,” he let out a disappointed sigh, “It would be fucking amazing if your cum also squirted out of your nipples.”

Since WHEN are you this forward, my guy?

Chris was paying so much attention to your breasts with excruciating gentleness, kissing them, taking them into his mouth, and drawing slow circles on them with his tongue. He was treating your nipples no different than your clit. Every single movement of him was so unrushed that you felt yourself gradually shift to a realm of pleasure that you didn’t even know existed. He wasn’t doing anything else. No aids. Nothing. Just hyperfixating on your chest area to make you aware of how good this could feel.

After some time, the teasing reached such an unbearable level that you simply started oozing between your legs. You needed him. On you. In you. Behind you. Everywhere. 

Right at that moment, he started descending from your chest with kisses to your ribcage, your stomach, all the way down to your crotch, and stopped in front of your cunt. He wasn’t touching you—his eyes were glued on your folds, admiring it, gawking at how glossy they were because of him. It was like he was waiting for you to snap or something.

“Spit on it.”

You didn’t even know where those words came from; they just forced themselves out of you. Chris paused for a brief moment while looking into your eyes with a knowing smile and then fulfilled your request. 

It indeed pushed you a little closer to snapping.

“Fucking god, eat me. I need to feel your tongue on me,” you tangled your fingers in his hair, “Just lick me. Suck me. Slurp on me until I cum in your mouth.”

He was beyond content with how impatient you were getting, and promptly got to work. You almost lost your fucking mind watching this through the screen, and it was going to be on record forever. This absolute perfection of a man between your legs making out with your pussy. You were instinctively grinding against his face and with every roll of your hips, you were five steps closer to your orgasm. Your legs started shaking not long after.

“Ah, yes. Yes, just like that. Nice and slow,” you felt yourself dissolve on his tongue, “Who the fuck told you to eat pussy this good, my GOD!”

“Told you I’m gonna drive you insane,” he placed a wet kiss on your thigh, “Hold it. I’m not done eating yet.”

That prompted a heated push and pull of who was in charge. You pulled on his hair, he shoved his tongue into your entrance. You scratched his back, he squeezed your thighs. You loudly moaned, he moaned louder into your pussy.

“I wish I could stimulate you from everywhere all at once,” he softly chuckled, “You should see this. You’re soaking the sheets.”

You spread your pussy lips to expose your clit to him and zoomed in on the way he lapped at it with his eyes closed, completely basking himself in your taste.

“So wet,” he pecked your pussy, “Come on, you can give me more.”

At long last, Chris finally grabbed the vibrator, but didn’t turn it on. He just dragged it from your clit down to your entrance and pushed it inside with no pressure, yet it still met resistance.

“You feel that?” he demonstrated how he wasn’t able to go further with a few more pumps, “You’re so aroused, your walls are all swollen.”

He pulled the toy out of you and dragged it back up to a very dangerous zone.

“Clitoris is such a fascinating part of the body, you know,” he started speaking in a beguilingly calm voice, “It’s like there is this annihilate button right out in the open. Who wouldn’t wanna press that?”

He clicked on the vibrator to turn it on, but he still wasn’t pressing it against your clit very much on purpose. All you could feel was the very very faint, feather-like vibrations around it.

“Interesting things, bullet vibrators,” he continued with the same tranquil tone, “They’re supposed to make you feel good, but they don’t have very strong motors. Not to mention you can’t properly fuck yourself with it because of their size. They don’t reach very deep.”

Then he locked eyes with you, and the way he smiled at you was simply demonic.

“That’s why in the wrong hands, they become straight up torture devices, don’t you reckon?”

You were dying. Chris was killing you with his words and ruthless teasing. He kept dragging that damn thing you were cursing yourself to bring out in the first place, and he suddenly discovered a critical spot.

“CHRIS!”

“Oh, found it. Right here under your clit, isn’t it?” he lightly poked his target once, “Want me to work that?

That was a very much rhetorical question because of course he wasn’t going to. He slowly glided the small device currently drenched in your sweet arousal just to bring it down to your entrance again. He pushed the very tip through your swollen hole, fucked a few shallow pumps, and when he met resistance, he moved it back up. His other hand started playing with your nipples again while teasing you to death. You had brought this on yourself—you were the one initiating this arson on your body. You were so sensitive by then that you could feel everything he was doing, and threefold more intensely for that matter. The way he made out with your nipples like he was munching on your clit. The way he contently hummed against your skin like he was getting his dick sucked. The way he slowly slid down the vibrator to that sweet spot right under your clit. Everything.

Then you said the one thing you absolutely shouldn’t have.

“I’m g– I’m gonna cum!”

Chris halted all his ministrations immediately and clicked on the bullet to turn it off. Then he stared you down with a threatening look. 

“I think the fuck you’re not.”

“Chris, please!” you were about to rip your hair out due to unadulterated frustration, “Fucking stop this torture!”

“I don’t think you heard me,” he adamantly declared, “I said no.”

With that, he went back to work you all the way from the top as if you had messed up a one-take shot. Just your breasts again. Just kisses. No contact with your cunt whatsoever. He turned on the vibrator and used it to get your nipples wet with your own juices while pressing the tip on the hardened skin. You wondered if he was trying to see whether you would actually squirt your cum out of them. When your whimpers became too much, he turned the device off and channeled his attention to somewhere else.

He very carefully touched your folds with his thumb, just lightly caressing and avoiding your clit at all costs. He started drawing very slow, languid circles around your clit with the toy as if it was a pen and proceeded to fuck you with very very shallow thrusts again. He kept alternating between the two, but the second your breathing got labored he stopped.

“Stop this!” you pleaded on the brink of tears, “Please stop edging me!”

“But I’m gonna,” he kissed the soft skin right above your pussy, “I’m gonna edge you. I’m gonna edge myself. I’m gonna keep on edging until one of us fucking loses it.”

He turned the vibrator on and swirled the faint vibrations on your outer labia first. Then your inner labia. Then around your clit. Then finally… 

Fucking finally he pressed it on your clit.

“Oh, fuck, yes!”

“Hold it.”

“Chris, yes!”

“Hold it.”

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK!”

“I… said… hold… it.”

His lips might have been saying one thing, but Chris forced you to cum very violently by aggressively fucking you with the toy and sucking on your clit, knowing damn well there was no way in hell you would be able to hold it. That wasn’t an orgasm you experienced.

You fucking combusted and shattered into a million pieces.

“What did I just tell you?” he disapprovingly tsked, “You don’t know how to listen. There should be consequences for what you’ve done, don’t you reckon?”

Your brain completely reset. You didn’t know who you were or where you were anymore.

“What– what consequences?”

“Shh, I’m not gonna hurt you,” Chris hovered over your body, “I just want a kiss. Taste yourself on me just like you wanted.”

This was the consequence? Why, by all means, you could give him all the kisses he asked for. 

He placed the phone that slid from your hand on the nightstand, still recording for that matter, so that you were both in the frame, then shifted you on top of his body. He was kissing you long and deep while playing with your tongue and sucking on it. You were feeling yourself slowly resurrecting.

“I’m not gonna do anything, I swear. I’ll only grind against you,” he started moving his hips, “I just want some friction for myself.”

Chris continued with his kisses while grinding, but that didn’t last very long. When he aligned his cock against your entrance, you chortled.

“That feels like more than just friction.”

“Just the tip, baby. Come on.”

Oh, hell no.

This was supposed to be a sweet escape. You were doing extremely obscene things to each other, but when he uttered that damn word, the dynamics suddenly changed. 

The lock in your chest was trapped under a deadbolt now.

“A little more,” he moaned into your mouth, “I only want a little more.”

He turned you around and engulfed your body under his, then you felt him completely sink into you with one sharp push.

“Chris…”

“Fucking need you,” he threw your legs on his shoulder, “I won’t cum inside, I promise.”

He could feel how thick your walls still were, still slightly contracting from your earlier orgasm. Warm. Wet. Perfectly wrapped around his cock like a custom-made sleeve. Then at long last, what he was doing finally hit you and you started laughing.

“You’ve been after making a cum-filled wreck out of me all along, haven’t you?”

Chris looked deep into your eyes with an absolutely maniacal grin and whispered.

“Bingo.”

You threw your arms around his neck and pulled him closer.

“You should manipulate me more often.”

“You should fuck me more often,” he caressed your cheeks, “You should fuck me all the time.”

“Then fill me up. To the brim. I wanna feel your cum leak out of me.”

“No leaking. You’re gonna keep it inside, yeah?” he kissed you again, “God, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

He started fucking you with a much faster rhythm and shoved his fingers into your mouth. When you started sucking on them in the exact same way you sucked on his cock, Chris let go and squirted his load all over your walls. 

“Inside, baby. Keep it inside,” he grabbed his preferred assault weapon one last time, “Look into my eyes.”

Without driving you up a wall this time, he pressed the vibrator right on target, under your clit to make you cum on his cock. You were still pretty sensitive from earlier, so it didn’t take long for him to hit the nail on the head. Chris stopped the recording and collapsed right next to you. When he pulled out, as much as you wanted to keep it inside, you leaked a little. He brushed his finger on the white liquid to taste it.

“It’s much better when we’re mixed together,” he brought his finger in your mouth, “See for yourself.”

It was indeed much better. The aftercare involving lots of hugs and kisses was very much worth almost passing out.

“Do you think I should get this mole removed?” you pointed at the freckle on your chest.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It looks so sexy on you,” Chris placed a kiss on it, “I love it.”

“Did you know our pristine neighborhood has a swinger’s club?”

“A what?”

You bust out laughing at his reaction and turned to your side to face him.

“Yeah, Nat told me.”

“Who knew? maybe this town isn’t so boring after all.”

“So they never asked you to join, huh?”

“Nope.”

“Would you have been interested at all if they had?”

“God no,” he furrowed his brows, almost slightly nauseated, “Certainly not in my current situation.”

“What do you mean current?”

He heaved an annoyed sigh, “Even if we were both willing parties, such a scenario wouldn’t be a turn on with Casey.”

“Why not? You don’t find her sexually attractive?”

“Sexually, morally, as a human being overall.”

You couldn’t help the snort that came out of you because samesies. Then all of a sudden, the way he worded it caught your attention and you pulled yourself closer to Chris.

“So it’s not that you wouldn’t wanna do it, but it’s who is involved,” you knowingly smiled, “Would you want to share me with someone else?”

There was a total blue screen on Chris’ face. No thoughts, head empty, just thinking about the lewdest scenarios you just sparked in his mind. What if people were in the room to watch him please you beyond humanely possible? What if they listened to your screams of pleasure when you begged him to give you more? Or stop stimulating you anymore? What if you fucked all night long and people touched themselves to the hottest fucking sight they’d ever witnessed? What if it was so damn seductive that they started fucking each other?

His throat got super dry all of a sudden.

“What uh– What did you have in mind?”

“We can talk about it,” your smile grew wider, “but I have different priorities. I was promised twenty four hours of fucking.”

You straddled him and lowered your body on his. Even though neither of you fully recuperated yet, you didn’t want to be away from him for one second.

“Spend me, gorgeous.”

“I think I enjoy your insatiability problem a bit too much,” he smiled into your lips.

Right when you started another round, your phone screen flashed in your purse with a text notification.

Minho Call me when you can This bitch is sus af

«TO BE CONTINUED»

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