' Course Iv

「𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕'𝚜 𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚗」 · course iv

❝𝙷𝚎’𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚢 𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚠.❞

WC: 10k (42 min. avg. reading time)

⛔ — Not suitable for readers who might get triggered by rough play and/or themes of sexual deviance. The author chooses not to issue tags for every act to preserve tension and some element of surprise. By clicking "Keep Reading", you accept to proceed at your own risk.

⚠ — Objectifying language, fantasies related to sharing and providing extreme pleasure, use of a fictional aphrodisiac, threesome, spitting, cumplay (lots of it), a lot of breeding talk (see masterlist for more).

★ There is no taglist. Please turn on notifications if you wish to be updated.

※ This work of fiction is intended for 18+ audiences only.

Chris liked his satin sheets. They absorbed the synthetic breeze of his AC and kept him comfortably cool during scorching summers. He was used to spending his nights alone between them—sometimes basking in the violent delights of his subconscious, sometimes exploring his body afresh fully awake.

But he couldn’t remember a single time where he was this turned on.

At first, he thought it was because of a dream. When he snapped his eyes open, he felt an unusual heaviness on his body and he was sweating. It was natural for him to feel the aftertaste of his dreams on his tongue, but not only could he not remember what he was dreaming about, but the feeling still continued while he was awake.

It was hard to describe what it exactly was. He was hard as a rock. His arousal wouldn’t calm down in the slightest as if he was getting edged for the past hour or so, and there was this unfamiliar feeling right under his shaft. 

He felt penetrated, but not in the way he occasionally indulged in. This was a much much pleasant sensation.

Was that… you?

Was that how you felt when you were snugly wrapped around him? Was that what caused you to let out those maddeningly satisfying sounds of pleasure when he made himself at home inside you? Was that the kind of gratification he was able to provide you? 

Did you have any idea what this was doing to his ego right now?

Maybe this was what it would feel like if you pegged him. Maybe he needed to ask you to do that. Maybe you could give him the most violent orgasm of his life. 

You were like this hypnotizing temptress sent as an answer to all his cries for help. A goddess watching over him, telling him it was okay to commit as many abominations as he wanted as long as he worshipped you. As long as he devoted himself to you. Only you. The texture of your skin was his 3 AM thoughts. The shape of your lips fueled his worst nightmares. Your unmatched appetite for him was how he was going to die. You, you, just you, the sole perpetrator of all the crimes of passion committed against him, and he lived to be your victim.

“Harder,” he quietly mumbled with his eyes closed, “Like you want me to.”

He had never experienced something like this before. He didn’t even have conclusive proof that he was feeling you, but considering his borderline monomaniacal interest in you, it just could not be anyone else, he was sure of it. Were you dreaming this or were you actively pleasuring yourself right at that second? Or were you fucking yourself to him, or were you with someone else?

What if you were with someone else? 

Who the fuck was this person? Why would you even feel the need for another person when he existed? Your chemistry was off the charts; he could give you anything you could ask for, then why the fuck—?

Did you want him to know there was another person? Were you after making him want you even more? Drive him up a wall? Go crazier about you? Because it was working.

What if there was someone else, though? What if Chris watched this person’s laughable attempt to give you pleasure and the resultant miserable failure, then took over to show them how to properly satisfy you? What if the way you fucked each other was so damn hot that this waste of oxygen couldn’t help masturbating to how you consumed one another? What if you told Chris you fucking loved it when he got jealous over you? What if you told him you were so glad he existed and that he could have you anytime he wanted if he was going to fuck you like this every time? He would. He would. He could give you so much more, just say the word. He would even be willing to share you with someone just to fucking put them in their place. It would be so much fun to humiliate them together with you. Pathetic. Pitiful. Who the fuck were they to even think they had a chance with you? You belonged to him. You were his goddess. He was the only one who could read your beautifully sick mind, and you could rewrite a much more lethal bad romance together.

“Oh fuck, you’re killing me, beautiful.”

Chris wasn’t even touching himself. He rested his arms under his nape and treated this like he was getting his dick sucked. Thinking of you. Of your voice. Of your taste. Of the most obscene memories he had of you. The time you told him all your unhinged thoughts about him. The time you told him he owned your body. 

The time you told him to defile you. 

All of a sudden, he felt a tidal wave rising in the pit of his stomach, forcing him to arch in his bed, his cum gushing from his cock and staining all over his abdomen. Without a single touch. Just the ghost of you, haunting him.

But it wasn’t enough.

How could it be enough? How could he make do with what might have happened when he damn well knew what could happen given the agreement you had recently made?

Just don’t expect me to come to your place in the middle of the night when the craving hits. Then I don’t come to you, you come to me. If you can bring your ass to my place, I’m yours.

You had said it yourself. You shouldn’t have said it if you weren’t going to honor it. This wasn’t on him; this was your doing.

He didn’t even check what time it was before jumping from his bed for a quick shower and darting to his car with urgent steps. The second he started the engine, he found your name on his dashboard and pressed the green receiver icon next to it. It rang once. Twice. Thrice. Your dazed voice echoed in the car right before the fourth time.

“Chris?”

“Wake up if you’re sleeping,” he demanded with an impatient voice, “I’m on my way.”

Then he hung up and hit the gas pedal harder.

Only ten minutes later, he was parked right in front of your building, considering whether it would be faster if he ran up twelve floors worth of stairs. He didn’t want to wait, but he so didn’t want to wait to catch his breath once you opened that door. There was not even one second to waste.

“You say I’m horny, but I beg to differ,” you welcomed him with an entertained smile, “It’s 4 AM, Chris.”

“Shut up and sit on me,” he took off his jacket while crossing the threshold of your apartment with rushed steps, “I wanna fuck you raw without stretching you.”

“Then say you need me.”

“I need you,” he cupped your face and gritted his teeth, “I never not need your body. Fuck!”

Your lips immediately clashed against one another, and the amount of violence in that kiss was quite telling of what was about to follow. You dragged him to your bedroom while walking backwards with your lips glued together, hastily taking off everything that covered each other’s body and creating a messy trail made of garments out in the hallway.

“Didn’t even bother tidying up,” he snickered once he saw the large dildo laying on your nightstand, “Did I interrupt your self-care time?”

“You stopped by just in time actually,” you responded while spreading your legs for him, “I think I may have manifested you here.”

“Yeah?” he broke into a bigger smile while aligning himself with you, extremely content with your answer, “Were you thinking about me?”

“I’m never not thinking about you when I fuck myself,” you put your hands on his waist, “Do a better job. Fuck me to sleep.”

And that was the last straw. 

Chris didn’t even look for some lube, not that he needed much anyway. Your cunt was wet enough from edging yourself for the past hour or so. He rammed his cock into you so hard as if you were starving him, as if he hadn’t been visiting your apartment lately in gradually more frequent intervals. This. This feeling was his fix, better than the purest cocaine he could get his hands on, and you were his sole plug. In return, you always felt much fuller with him inside you than trying to substitute him with some synthetic counterpart. As the name suggested, it was synthetic. Nothing compared to the feeling of Chris throbbing inside you when you told him to go harder. Go faster. Use you as he wanted.

“Shit, cumming,” he squeezed his eyes shut, “I’m fucking cumming. Clench!”

He shot his full load on the deepest spot he could reach, fucking all the drops of cum on the shallow end of you further just to make sure they stayed where they belonged. He rode the waves of his orgasm pulling out of you until just his tip was in, then completely disappearing into you again, thrusts never losing their sharpness one bit.

“Thank you,” you flashed him a tired and utterly fucked out smile. He smiled back. Then left as quickly as he arrived.

Chris never stayed. He wouldn't be able to even if he wanted to. That was the rule.

You wondered how hard you would need to fuck him until he was too tired to leave.

The next morning went by uneventfully. The usual buzz of the kitchen served as white noise to keep everyone focused on their tasks for dinner service. Chopping, grating, kneading…  Microsurgical precision even during prep because otherwise you would besmirch the good name of Wolfgang and how fucking dare you?

Came the lunch break, Minho and Robin walked into the kitchen with a special dessert in their hands. You knew what that was because Robin only made it for special occasions, and it befuddled the crap out of you because you hadn’t told a soul about your birthday.

“How’d you guys know?!”

“Employee records,” Minho satisfied your curiosity momentarily, “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Whatever’s going to get me the Alfred cheesecake. Thank you guys so much!”

You blew out the single candle and hugged everyone one by one. Minho was the one to hug you last. His cologne smelled so pleasant on your nostrils, and unless you were fucking delusional, it felt like he stole a whiff from your neck himself.

“Chef is asking for you,” he informed you before you could overanalyze anything, “If he rides you hard, you tell me.”

He had no idea of the absolute double entendre his words carried, so you pushed your internal wheezing down as much as you could. 

“I’ll make sure to show you where the bullies are,” you smiled at him and left the kitchen.

One interesting detail to note as you were climbing the stairs that led to Chris’ office was that when you stood in front of his door to announce your arrival, you were a little nervous for some reason.

“You asked for me?”

“Come in,” he beckoned you over, and continued after you closed the door behind you, “I heard it was actually the first hours of your birthday last night when I came by.”

“Duh, you should have known. It’s called a birthday suit for a reason.” 

He let out an amused chuckle while reclining in his chair. His features seemed a little softer than usual, but it could very well have been an optical illusion because of his dimples.

“I wanted to properly wish you a happy birthday.”

“Thank you.”

“Sit.”

You moved towards the couch in front of his desk, but he stopped you halfway through.

“No,” he tapped on his desk with two of his fingers, “I said sit.”

You held his gaze for a couple of seconds, but it felt like half an hour. It was surely unexpected for him to initiate anything at his shrine as he called it, but there he was, telling you to sit on his desk. Right in front of him. On his eye level. You approached him with slow steps and settled on the spot he guided you to.

“It’s lunch break,” he stated the obvious fact, “Time to eat.”

It was mindblowing how Chris could be nonstop horny like a college freshman who was a virgin until very recently, but you actually liked it. No, you loved how eager he was. How much he seemed to want you. You loved being the object of his desires.

“Aren’t you going to stop me?” he asked while pulling himself close to you.

“Why would I?” you nonchalantly responded, “Have you ever blown yourself? Those lips make me wanna murder someone.”

“What if someone comes in?” he started undoing the buttons of your pants and dragged your zipper down.

“Maybe I like the risk.”

“What if they report it?” he slid your pants down your legs.

“Then it’s your problem. I’m just following the orders of my boss.”

“You don’t think I’m being a creep?”

“You would be if I wasn’t this into you. I think you’re just being a tease right now.”

Chris loved any indication of how sexy you found him. He never got tired of hearing this, and he was never going to. 

“So you’re into me,” he slowly got rid of your underwear, “How much?”

You spread your legs wide as a response to show him how wet you were. How much he liked the view was apparent in the depth of the sigh he let out.

“I’m quite into you, myself. A lot, actually,” he held your gaze intently, “Wanna see exactly how much?”

You gnawed on your bottom lip and nodded. Chris brought his beautiful face closer to your heat almost in slow motion and finally finally closed his luscious lips on your glazed folds, causing you to exhale deeply. 

“Up. Down. Up. Suck. A little more. Now swirl. Fuck, just like that.”

Combined with his leftover thoughts from the night before, the way you were guiding him sparked an idea in his mind. What if he was the one giving these commands? 

But to someone else.

What if he told a third party what to do to you? What if he watched another guy have his way with you? Just so he could hear how much better he knew you, he fucked you, he pleasured you. What if they had you cater to them, then pleasured you until you passed out as a thank you?

It drove him insane.

Chris followed all your instructions to a T, extracting all your essence out of you shortly after. He particularly enjoyed how you were caressing his hair when you were cumming in his mouth.

“I need to eat too, you know,” you spoke once you managed to come to your senses, and it elicited a silky chortle from him.

“Shit you call ‘girl dinner’ nowadays I swear…”

“Wanna switch places or do you want me to kneel?”

“I like it when you kneel for me,” he ran his fingers through your hair, then allowed you to descend between his legs and nestle there.

His erection was already pressing hard against his pants, impatiently waiting to be set free. You took his pants off and spread his legs wide, trying not to drool at how hard he was for you. It was like he was getting more gorgeous every time you saw him. You teased his tip the way he liked it, slowly dragging your tongue on the sensitive skin, and softly kissing along his girth.

“I can’t stop thinking about fucking you. I have a problem,” he caressed your cheek with his thumb, “You just breathe in my general direction and I get rock hard.”

This. The talk. He knew the exact right things to say to spur you on. It could have been pretend, but you didn’t care one bit. It always made you want to please him more. You licked, and licked, and licked, then took him deep down your throat.

“God, I so wish we were in my bed right now,” Chris quietly whimpered at the intense sensation, throwing his head back, “You look so beautiful like that, I kinda wanna give you a cumshot.”

You hummed at the mental image, and he melted. You were fucking perfect around his cock as if your mouth was made to suck him off. So that he could empty his balls there whenever he wanted. You sighed deeply, and he felt the pressure building right below his abdomen.

“Get up. I’m cumming inside.”

He quickly sat you down on his desk again, and disappeared into you, holding you in place from your waist as he was drilling you hard. Then he exposed your neck to give you the sloppy kisses he always did, but he smelled something unusual but very familiar already laced there.

Minho’s cologne.

“Thoughts on knotting, baby girl?” his thrusts got way sharper all of a sudden as if he wanted you to alert the people in the vicinity.

“If you can somehow manage to do it, I’m super down,” your fingers slithered towards his nape to hold on tighter.

“Who else? You know your pussy is mine to breed.”

Chris could feel something boiling inside him. He wasn’t mad at you per se, but he was mad nevertheless. The thoughts riddling his mind were getting out of control already, and the existence of this scent on you surely didn’t help calm him the fuck down. He was going to say it. He was going to risk it all and say it. If you asked what the hell the matter was with him, he could just say it was a spur of the moment thing and that he didn’t mean it.

“Though I wouldn’t mind watching someone else fuck you.”

His words pressed a button in your brain, and you remembered your very first dream about Chris. In his crisp suit, sprawled on a couch, sipping on some expensive scotch while watching you get devoured. He would listen to you moan. He would get hard to your screams of pleasure. He would stroke himself to your sight maybe. Maybe he would cum. Maybe he would ask you to swallow even.

You clenched.

“You– You wanna share me with someone?”

“Not share, per se, I just wanna see them try. To prove no one can make you feel the way I do.”

“That’s so damn cocky even by your standards,” you sneered, “but I kinda wanna see how you can claim me back.”

Oh, good fucking god, you liked this.

He started going faster. You pressed your palm against your mouth to stop yourself from making loud noises until you got used to the new rhythm.

“You’ll wait for me to say your name when some guy fucks the wits out of me, but I just won’t,” you spat through your teeth, “You’ll regret ever inviting a third person when you could have all of this to yourself.”

“See the best part about fucking you is not even cumming. It’s how fucking dirty you are. It’s the ride,” he briefly stopped to wrap your legs around his waist, “It’s the best fucking thrill ride I’ve ever been on.”

His fingertips were sinking into your ass, and he found that soft, spongy spot inside you that he loved so much. He was getting close.

“I kinda wanna make you pass out from pleasure, but keep fucking you. You’ll come to your senses with your pussy in my mouth. Then we’re fucking again,” he tangled his fingers in your hair, “What are you doing Saturday, baby girl?”

“Thinking of a birthday party. Wanna come?”

“Cancel it. You’re fucking me.”

He pulled on your hair at the last word and started dashing to his finish line. When you bit into his neck, it sizzled so good that he erupted inside you as if you threw a molotov cocktail into a tank of gasoline. You let him spill every last drop and rest his head on your shoulder until he came down from his high.

“Did you mean it? When you said…” he hesitated, but he needed an actual answer, “About someone else?”

“I mean, depends,” you responded while putting your clothes back on, “I need to know for sure they are discreet.”

The scent of the cologne that didn’t belong to him was all Chris could think about. Discreet. So as long as it was discreet it was okay with you?

One look at his metaphorical chips, and Chris decided to go all in.

“What if I know just the person?”

You had some memorably wild birthdays back in the day, but none of them required any negotiation beforehand. In your defense, you also never had a boss with benefits in possession of an inhumanely high libido.

The plan sounded simple, ‘sounded’ being the operative word. You were initially apprehensive about how this could potentially turn out awkward after the fact, but Chris reassured you on that front with how much he trusted this person. He had offered to be the middle man of communication so that everybody was aware of the mutually agreed upon ground rules prior to your meeting.

“So what do you have in mind?”

“You’ll get a free pass. Whatever you desire, we oblige, but on one condition,” Chris explained to you, “He can’t do anything I haven’t done to you before. Nor can you do anything to him you haven’t done to me.”

“Say I wanna peg him?”

“No one’s stopping you. You’re just pegging me first.”

“It’s my birthday, but this sounds like you have the ropes still,” you cocked a brow.

“Oh, I do, don’t I?” he faked an epiphany, then broke into a mischievous smile, “Would you look at that?”

Thus the reason why you felt like you were on your way to some set on Saturday night.

One interesting suggestion had come from your guest for the night. Were you to accept it, he recommended ingesting a substance called ‘24K’, popularly known as liquid gold, to heighten the experience.

“What does it do? Get us high?”

“Not in the way you think,” Chris clarified, “It’s an actual aphrodisiac used in some rare recipes with strict dosage restrictions. It will kick up your sex drive, and your senses will also be much more sensitive.”

“And that doesn’t sound like a hallucinogen to you?”

“Does it really matter what it sounds like as long as it feels like you’re getting gangbanged when I eat your pussy?” he smirked, but continued more seriously, “Joking aside I would say an unequivocal no if I didn’t know what it was. The decision is yours.”

You weren’t really sure if the decision you made was the right one, but you were excited about it.

The meeting location was decided as Chris’ place. Up until now, it was always him coming over to your apartment, which wasn’t a deliberate thing to prevent you from coming over or anything—he just visited so frequently that you didn’t feel the need to change venues, so this was going to be your first time seeing his habitat in the flesh. The building was very much on par with what you allowed yourself to imagine when you saw his address—a luxury condominium with a hotelesque high-ceiling lobby, extremely polite staff, and a handful of people who you assumed to be occupants walking around looking like they were cast to be there. Yes, that good looking.

“Right away, sir,” the model-like gentleman that welcomed you quietly hung up the phone, and swiped a tiny envelope with the building logo embossed across the granite counter, “Here’s your one-time code, miss.”

“A code?” you looked at him questioningly.

“Yes, to operate the elevator since it directly goes up to Mr. Bang’s residence,” he confirmed, “It’s on the top floor.”

A penthouse. Why were you even surprised in the first place?

You did know about Chris’ fame, of course, but you had to admit how foreign it felt for a second there. In reality, he was so unreachable that people needed one-time codes to cross the threshold of his privacy. Meanwhile, you had gotten so used to his presence that he had stopped being Chef Bang to you some time ago—he was just regular Chris, albeit still quite extraordinary. You could be so full of yourself for thinking this, but the amount of comfort you shared with each other seemed like something special. Special to the extent that it made you smile so big when you opened the envelope to enter the four-digit code into the elevator keypad.

Your birthday.

When the elevator doors opened again, you found yourself in a short, carpet-clad hallway with dark beige walls and warm white lighting, a single heavy-looking brown pivot door looking right at you. Once you pressed on the doorbell, everything suddenly felt so real that you got nervous. The door opened with a muffled clank, and you immediately questioned the reality you were experiencing because hot—fucking—damn!

“Hey, beautiful.”

Not that he wasn’t already criminally attractive on a weekday, but Chris looked ultra fine that night. Skin-tight pants, jet black blazer, and of course the silver chains. Good god, the chains. Not the chains…

You knew this exact fit from some dark bedroom with velvet walls.

He took a small vial from his pocket that harbored some ambery liquid in it, then sucked some into the dropper in the cap.

“Entry ticket. Stick your tongue out for me.”

Three drops fell on your tongue. Thick density, savory, quickly spread on your palate but didn’t necessarily invade the tastebuds. 

“Syrupy,” you observed after swallowing, “I really like the taste. What’s in this?”

“You’re a trained chef. Can’t you tell?” 

“I meant besides the obvious honey,” you deadpanned.

“What else?”

You swiped your tongue on your palate, then exhaled with your mouth closed to run the flavor in your mouth again.

“I’m inclined to say… saffron?”

“Good job,” a smirk stained his lips, “Five points to Slytherin.”

You stuck your tongue out again to get your well-deserved reward, but the two drops of liquid gold were followed by a 24K kiss from Chris. Wetter and a lot hungrier than usual as if it was possible. It caught you off guard, but you had absolutely no complaints.

“What was that for?”

“A little pre-game treat for me,” he held the tip of your chin, “You look ravishing tonight. I couldn’t help myself.”

“Did you have any of this before my arrival by any chance?” you pointed at the glowing vial in his hand.

“Maybe,” he confessed then led you inside by gently pushing on your waist, “But then again you get me so fucking horny on the regular that I can’t really tell the difference.”

Your eyes were scanning every piece of detail they could perceive as you walked behind him. Chris’ place felt like a breath of fresh air. Spacious, for sure, but also unexpectedly cozy with the warm lights cast on different shades of beiges and browns and khaki greens contrasted by dark anthracites of his kitchen which even had a 50-bottle wine cellar next to his gigantic fridge. Modern architecture with moderner furniture, simplistic but tasteful decorations all around, and a magnificent view of the city sprawled right under your feet flaunted through the large curtainless windows.

Then you took one step into the living room area, and it kicked in.

You felt like you were being enveloped by something warm. The colors became even warmer and more vivid. For some reason, you felt like you were glowing and you felt fucking amazing.

“Damn, why didn’t you tell me there was a dress code for tonight?” you asked Chris while looking at the man sprawled on the couch.

Equally sharply dressed, equally cocky posture, sporting his long, wavy hair with several stray locks falling in front of his eyes. It was the first time you were seeing him like this rather than his usual clean-cut look at work.

Minho looked nothing short of a charming player.

“The princess of the night finally arrives!” he raised the scotch glass in his hand, “Happy birthday, your grace.”

“Princess?” Chris scoffed a bit too empathetically, “She’s a fucking demon.”

“Be nice, it’s my birthday,” you settled down on the empty seat to Minho’s left and reached for the drink Chris poured for you, “but yeah I kinda am.”

“Have you decided on your course for tonight?” Chris asked from the armchair he threw himself on, diagonal to you.

“I think I’m in the mood to have two guys worship me.”

“By all means. It’s time we got a baptism from some goddess anyway.”

“Baptism with cum and spit,” you retorted and took a sip from the icy amber liquid, “That’s new.”

“I’d be careful with the liberal use of the word cum,” Minho warned you and pointed at Chris with a nod, “His fangs come out whenever it’s mentioned.”

“I see. So we’re doing exposés on each other,” Chris raised his brows and crossed his legs, “This dude right here likes it too much when he hears praise. Give it a go.”

You turned to your left and scanned Minho from head to toe. He looked unfazed, but you could see how his shoulders were tensed up.

“Have I ever told you how gorgeous you are?” you fixated your eyes on his chest, then looked right into his eyes, “You work out?”

“I do.”

“I love thick thighs in a man,” you caressed his inner thigh, and in return, he not so discreetly throbbed in his pants.

“And I love women who love thick thighs,” he brazenly ogled your breasts.

“Men lose it when you ride their thighs,” you dragged your hand down his leg, “And I like it when they get weak for me.”

“You know when they also lose it?” he sat up in his place and wet his lips with a single drag of his tongue, “When you have a sloppy as fuck make out session with their balls.”

“Duly noted.”

Interesting. Kissing was a simple act, but it was like a fingerprint for how differently each person executed it. When Chris kissed you, you felt your soul being set on fire. It was loaded with lethal amounts of passion and lust, and it made you wanna stop living for yourself and start living to please him instead.

Minho was much calmer. He kissed deep, somewhat slow, not touching anywhere else on your body other than your face, allowing just a kiss to do its job to seduce the fuck out of you. His lips were so full in your mouth, immediately making you wonder what they would feel like on more secluded parts of you. You liked the muted hums he let out as he swirled his tongue around yours, and they increased in volume by just a tinge when you palmed his bulge straining his pants.

“So?” Chris asked, trying not to make it too obvious how turned on he was by the sight, “Which kiss did you enjoy more?”

“Am I allowed to say it’s him?” you looked at him with hooded eyes.

“You are, but what you’re not allowed to do is lie,” he pointed at you, “And that is one.”

“Take the L like a champ, man. Don’t be a sore loser,” Minho quipped, very content with the answer you delivered.

You didn’t take your eyes off Chris as your smirk got wider, and he reciprocated, but you had learned to render the shades of anger that occasionally flashed in his eyes.

Oh, this was gonna be so much fun, wasn’t it?

“You talked a big game about how she tastes,” Minho caressed your back, “I wanna see it for myself.”

“You should. It’s pretty damn delicious,” Chris got up to his feet to lead you both to an even more restricted area, “but don’t make a habit of it if you want to live.”

His possessiveness was internally making you scream your lungs out. Oh, he knew. He knew what he was doing to you. He knew one good kiss was not enough to swipe you off your feet and he loved shoving that right in front of Minho’s face.

It was weirdly wholesome actually. Dare you said even a fucked up love language. 

If you walked into this bedroom without knowing who it belonged to, you would still be able to pick it out as Chris’. A massive bed dressed in black satin sheets overlooking the flickering lights coming from the pier, a huge framed picture of a full moon right above the headboard, dark grays and off-whites all around but by no means bleak. Ironically enough, this room somehow exuded the peacefulness of a safe haven.

“Any accessories you want?” Chris turned on the lights and dimmed them to a sultry lumen, “Blindfolds, cuffs, toys?”

“No, just you,” you responded as you stood by the edge of his bed, “and all the lube you have.”

You. As in second person plural. Chris knew that of course, but he didn’t give a fuck. You did say just you. Nothing else.

He had to take a deep breath to fucking stop himself from jumping you.

He took a couple of steps towards you and brushed his fingers on your collarbones first, then peeled your top off. As he took your lips between his, you unbuttoned his blazer and cascaded it down his shoulders to put his perfect figure on display. Then you felt Minho right behind you unclasping your bra and exposing your chest fully.

“Oh, they feel so full,” Chris noted while fondling your breasts, “Are you ovulating? Are we finally gonna breed you today?”

You hated how he knew what to say to get you to throb that hard.

“Take off her clothes,” he commanded Minho while unbuttoning his pants, “Then get between her legs.”

As Chris was getting rid of his own clothes, you let Minho strip you bare, then threw yourself right in the middle of Chris’ insanely comfortable bed. After getting fully naked, Minho crawled between your legs and kissed your thighs, awaiting his directions from Chris who was cuddling you on your right. The familiar vial made another appearance, and the drops of the golden-colored liquid felt cold on your pussy. Satisfied with how it dissolved into your own slick, Chris firmly demanded.

“Eat.”

Minho’s mouth on your cunt was pure heaven. Your eyes immediately closed when he licked a long stripe, and it was the perfect pairing to Chris kissing all over your neck. 

“I like it wet,” you didn’t wait long before telling Minho exactly what you wanted from him, “Lick all over me.”

While Minho was busy pleasuring you just the way you liked, Chris kept paying attention to your upper body, touching you, kissing you, licking the salt off your skin and replacing it with his own. The wetness you felt all over you amplified threefold courtesy of some saffron extract, and even just looking at these stunning men working you was enough for you to have a violent visceral reaction.

“God, yes, just like that. Now suck on my clit,” you directed Minho further.

You tugged on Chris’ locks to make him look at you and pulled him in for a kiss he so desperately was waiting for. You were trying to make a point with how deep you were kissing him, but you weren’t exactly sure if it was reaching him at all.

“Your pussy eating skills are as fantastic as your thighs after all,” you turned your attention to Minho again, “You’re fucking perfect.”

Hearing you praise his performance like that, he got even more eager, burying his face deeper into your cunt.

“If Chris lets you come play, come sit on my bar sometime,” Minho licked his lips and spread your pussy lips further apart, “You taste fucking incredible.”

“Well, she can’t. She has prior engagements,” Chris answered on your behalf, “Don’t you, baby girl?”

You involuntarily laughed, and Chris kissed your smile away, getting your lips raw from how much he was coating them in lust.

“You’re gorgeous. You’re a goddess. You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered into your ear, “Can I make it feel even better for you? Do I have permission?”

You nodded eagerly, not knowing what to expect in the slightest. The warmth on your right side was gone. When you opened your eyes, you saw Chris crawling between your legs right next to Minho, and it made you shiver.

“You take her clit,” he casually instructed, “I have an unhealthy attachment to her cum.”

You watched them take their positions, and even though you were about to implode from this sight alone, you managed to stitch some words together.

“Lick it spotless.”

“Paradoxical,” Chris uttered with an unamused expression, “You need to stop dripping first.”

You could feel everything. 

A pair of tongues gliding on you. So wet. So fucking obscenely wet. Minho’s tongue was on your clit, teasing it with the very tip whereas Chris was licking into your oozing hole, gently prodding your entrance with his flattened tongue and fucking into it every once in a while. Getting showered with slippery attention by two insanely gorgeous men ready to cater to your every whim made you feel like a queen, and you were about to have the most egocentric orgasm of your life.

“Chris,” you convulsed under their intense ministrations, “Come– Come up.”

He was surprised to be the one you called out to, but he pulled himself up right next to you again.

“Caress me,” you put his hands on your body, “Please.”

Please. He was pretty sure you didn’t know about the weight this particular word carried.

Please. Or maybe you did, and you were doing it on purpose again.

Please. Give him one reason not to worship the floor you walk on.

He ran his hands all over you with his lips glued to yours, kissing you, licking you while Minho was on the fast track to make you snap. When you felt your orgasm threatening to unleash, you grabbed Chris’ face and inhaled his lips, your moans rippling throughout his body. He didn’t let go until your body went limp, soaked in the afterglow languor, not having an ounce of strength to hold onto anything anymore.

“He did good, yeah?” he caressed your face and nodded for confirmation, “Shall we return the favor?”

You hummed a fucked out yes, and he gestured for Minho to get on his knees.

“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to dive into my girl’s freshly fucked pussy,” Chris broke goosebumps all over your body with the single finger he dragged down your shoulder, “He’s going to fuck you for my viewing pleasure now.”

You momentarily found yourself in his arms, back flushed against his chest, as Minho settled between your legs, awaiting his instructions.

“I want her pussy properly stretched. Soaking wet. Walls throbbing. You’re not going to pull out. Fill her up for me,” he firmly ordered then placed a kiss on your shoulder, “Then I’ll come take what’s mine. Fuck it deeper to make room for myself. We’ll see who makes you feel better.”

As Chris started leaving open mouth kisses on your neck, you watched Minho take position, and you noticed him for the first time. Full girth and mouthwatering curvature, and it reminded you of one of the massagers you owned. There was more than enough slick covering your cunt, but you were still struggling to take him, and judging by the extremely satisfied look on his face, he fucking loved it. It was so obvious that your sounds of mild discomfort were stroking his ego big time, and he didn’t even try to be subtle about it. When he finally managed to sink into you, you felt so full that your eyes rolled all the way back.

“We can do this day and night if you can take it,” he squeezed your legs as he bottomed out, “Let’s ride, princess.”

Minho was off to a great start. His rhythm was like a pulse with sharp thrusts of his hips deep into you. He was after enjoying himself first, relishing this maddening pleasure buried inside you before setting off to look for a spot to make you see white.

“He needs visual stimulants, too, don’t you reckon?” Chris turned your face to him, “Make out with me.”

He wasn’t simply kissing you at this point. It was so loaded with want and hunger that it felt more like a respiratory exchange. Too much sighing, short-lived moans, and wet, wet, just so wet, coating each other with as much bodily fluids as you possibly could. You had a raging suspicion that Chris was after making you regret not openly declaring his kiss as your favorite. 

Minho, on the other hand, was in no rush fucking you. He was just savoring this, savoring the indecently salacious view in front of him, which felt like he got to fuck the star of a hot porn clip he stumbled upon in real time.

“You’re doing great, baby girl. I’m so fucking proud of you,” Chris kissed your shoulder again and cupped your breasts, “Feels good, right?”

All you could produce was incoherent sounds. A simple touch on your body was magnifying to the extent that you could feel it everywhere, so you couldn’t even utter your own name if he asked you right now. You remembered how to nod in between your moans.

“But it should feel great,” he uttered emphatically to Minho, “It should feel so fucking good I need her to cry.”

When his name was uttered again, you opened your eyes to take Minho’s sight in. He was a goddamn beast. So damn gorgeous all around and he was fucking you good. How you couldn’t even properly open your eyes was telling enough of what a good job he was doing.

“Swollen as fuck,” he swiped his thumb on your clit, and looked right at Chris with a sly smile, “I have a great idea. You know what it is.”

“Should I lick it when he’s fucking you?” Chris asked in your ear with a soothing voice, and you almost combusted to his words alone.

“YES!”

“Tsk, rude, baby girl. What do we say when we really want something?”

Say it again, he was repeating inside, Again. Beg. Beg for me.

“Please, Chris—topher,” you adjusted the end of your address properly, and the fact that you remembered flew him over the moon.

Chris didn’t rush to leave your side. He started his ministrations by softly caressing your clit like he was petting you as Minho kept a steady, endurable pace. 

“Look at me when he fucks you,” he demanded, getting his fingers properly wet in your mouth, “Eyes on me.”

Give me attention. I want to be the only thing you lust after. Want me. Want me. Want me. Give me special privileges in front of him. Show him I matter more to you because you want to please me.

He started drawing circles on your cunt with his now slippery fingers without any pressure. The idea was to make you melt into him, but the way you jolted when he touched you ignited something wild in him.

“Did you know your body screams my name?” he whispered into your ear in a volume only you could hear, “You’re getting fucked this hard, but you’re still shuddering when I touch you.”

He stopped his strokes and gestured Minho to stop and take a breather while sliding away from under you and laying you down on your back. Then he lowered his face on your pussy as Minho took position again.

He timed himself so that his first lick would align perfectly with Minho’s first push. The pleasure running laps throughout your entire bloodstream was so concentrated that you couldn’t dare open your eyes. But it wasn’t just about how intense the feeling was.

It was the fact that this had turned into a race of who could get you there faster, and you were dissolving in the amount of attention they were subjecting you to.

“Overwhelmed?” Chris chuckled teasingly after a while, “Feels too good?”

Their movements gradually came to a halt to give you some rest since you actually looked like you could pass out. Minho made creative use of the lube on the nightstand to rub the soreness away from your legs while Chris climbed up to your right side and started stroking your hair, showering you with kisses on your forehead, your temple, and face to soothe you to the best of his ability.

If you didn’t know any better, you would be inclined to say he was almost making love to you.

“We just get each other, don’t we? We understand each other better than anyone else,” Chris softly spoke when your breathing returned to normal, then nodded at Minho to carry on, “I know you’re dying to take both of us right now. You can say it. Min’s not one to judge.”

Minho was probably expecting you to get embarrassed or something. When your eyes met his, you bit into your bottom lip so hard and you unwittingly snickered at each other.

“The question is can your tight cunt really take it? You can barely take me as it is,” he dragged his fingers from your chest down to your abdomen and fixated his gaze on Minho with an absolutely sinister smile, “And he’s quite endowed himself, right?”

Minho twitched so hard inside you that it was impossible not to notice. You took one look at Chris and you could feel your brainwaves syncing to concoct a quick little plan to gang up on Minho.

“He’s a fucking beast. Just look at this gorgeous body,” you put your hands on his waist and slid them down, “And his thighs, god, they’re so fucking juicy I wanna take a bite.”

“So you like his performance,” he threw his arm over your shoulder, “Why don’t you give him a review?”

“I know what you’re trying to do,” Minho warned Chris through his teeth, “Stop it.”

Neither of you was intimidated by his pseudo-threat. Not one bit. You leaned into Chris more and started praising the shit out of Minho with a shit eating grin on your face.

“Ravages pussy like he should, A+ tongue game, god tier stamina, and fucks like an unhinged maniac.”

“Stop it.”

“You’re insanely sexy, Minho. You’re so my type, I fucking love it.” 

“I said stop it.”

“Makes me wanna take you up my ass right fucking now.”

“OH, FUCK YOU!!!”

Heck, you enjoyed hearing praise during sex yourself. It was a great mood setter when used correctly, but that was about it for you. Witnessing someone so weak for compliments to the extent that they would cum this violently was a first and boundlessly entertaining to watch. Once Minho managed to come back to his senses, he reverted back to his no fucks given attitude and made himself comfortable on your left, trading places with Chris. You were a little sore, but Chris had been waiting long enough for his turn. He drenched you in lube and slid right in to pick up where Minho left off.

He felt electrified all of a sudden.

“Damn, your load is a bit heavy, huh Min?”

“Demon princess here got me a little worked up,” Minho chuckled, still wiping sweat off his forehead, “I have no fucking idea how you can stop yourself from cumming every five seconds with her around.”

“Who says I can?”

Chris could actually feel Minho’s cum inside you. Volume so dense that it felt like he was dipping himself in an entire bottle of lubricant. It was turning him on way too much that he couldn’t even control how loudly he was groaning. Only a couple of pumps in, he put his initial plan on hold and pulled out of you.

“Look how much you made him cum,” he showed you the thick white liquid glazing his cock and dripping off his tip, “I wanna watch you suck him off of me.”

The sight topped the chart of the dirtiest yet most erotic things you’d ever seen, easy, and it was making you salivate. You promptly got on fours before him once he laid down, not even caring about teasing him like you usually would. You straight up choked on him.

“God fucking damn, taking me that deep without being asked. Just how fucking fantastic are you?”

As you were devouring Chris, you felt some movement behind you, and shortly after Minho’s face was between your legs again, about to taste you from scratch one more time.

“Her clit only,” Chris urged in panic, “The cum stays in.”

Then Minho began munching on your tingling clit. He was pushing you down on his face from your hips, and there was no way for you to escape his death grip. You were writhing in how unendurable the overstimulation quickly became, but your whimpering on Chris’ cock was sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout his body.

“Look at what he’s doing to himself while eating your creampied pussy,” he broke into a delirious smile, “Ride his face for me. Make him suck on your clit harder.”

When you looked back, you witnessed Minho lazily stroking his cock with one hand, making happy little sounds into your pussy in the meantime as if he was tasting the rarest delicacy that ever existed. Thinking about how you were still filled with Minho’s cum and watching you blow him like your life depended on it riled Chris up too much too fast. There was no way he could hold back any longer.

“Yes. Fucking yes, milk it out of me. God, I’m gonna soak you in cum,” he swiftly sat up straight and started pumping himself frantically, “Stick your tongue out.”

Chris was already feeling like he was being edged for the longest time, watching Minho fuck you into his own bed and devouring your pussy. The second his eyes landed on your tongue, strings of his warm seed spurted all over your face and glazed your skin deliciously.

“Clean her face,” he instructed Minho while descending between your legs just to eat your creampied pussy for his own pleasure, “Spotless.”

Without having him say it twice, Minho laid down beside you and prompted you to close your eyes by brushing his fingers on your eyelids. Deprived of your sight, you felt the pair of wet muscles gliding on you even more profoundly, one on your folds and the other on your face ridding you of any trace of cum. You didn’t know what exactly took over you when Minho licked a clean stripe on your cheek, but you grabbed his hands to steal his attention.

“Let’s share.”

It wasn’t a request per se; you just informed him that you were going to do it. 

And when Chris caught a glimpse of what you were doing, he felt like his entire body got shocked.

You asked Minho to share his taste with you. Strike one. You were sucking on the coat of cum on Minho’s tongue so hungrily like you were starved for days. Strike two.

Then you swiped your fingers on your cheekbone to collect some of his cum and dared to start rubbing your clit with it as your personal lubricant.

Chris fucking lost it. 

It was most likely a byproduct of liquid gold, but he still couldn’t believe how fast he recuperated to get fully hard again. He started following the rhythm you liked so much before he took what he needed from you.

Up. Down. Up. Suck. A little more. Now swirl. Swirl. Swirl!

You moaned loudly into Minho’s mouth, properly dizzy and most likely out of any more orgasms to have by then. He soothed you with kisses on your face as you rode out your high on Chris’ mouth.

“You know what would make you taste even sweeter?” he wiped his lips with the back of his hand, “Double frosting.”

Through your almost blurry vision, you saw Chris getting on his knees and aligning himself with your throbbing entrance, too conveniently slippery for him to slide right in.

“Open up.”

He dragged your bottom lip down to prompt you to open your mouth, and then you felt a trail of saliva landing on your tongue. Out of everything Chris did the entire night, oddly enough, this one felt like his most possessive move.

“Jerk him off for me. Let’s get your tits creamed, too,” he declared his final request of the night, then addressed Minho, “And you know what you need to do.”

Minho positioned himself so he could lick your clit while allowing you to stroke him comfortably. Chris’ eyes on you were a bit intense as if he was trying to tell you something, but you weren’t in possession of any reasoning anymore to decode what it was. You just focused on his breathing instead. How it escalated as his pace got faster. How he got two steps closer to his final destination. How he had your entire soul in a chokehold at that moment even though there was another man with you in this bed.

Minho interrupted your long-running existential crisis when he suddenly stopped and fucked himself into his hand until he covered your chest with a much smaller volume of cum this time. You were unbearably sore at that point so you stopped him when he attempted to go down again. He hopped off the bed as soon as he collected himself and gathered his clothes.

“You kids carry on. This night never happened,” he pressed his index finger on his lips and winked, then disappeared into the hallway. Mere moments later, you heard the sound of water running. 

You felt so vulnerable under Chris all of a sudden.

“I don’t– I don’t have to finish if y—”

“I’m fine. This is always my favorite part,” you wrapped your arms around his neck, “What’s the point if you’re not breeding me in the finale?”

A tired smile appeared on his lips, and he put his hand under your waist to support your body better. The front door opened and closed in the distance, indicative of Minho’s departure, and for some reason, once he left the premises for good, Chris started running to the finish line as fast as he could, unable to look away from your eyes.

I do. I do worship you. You’re all I ever wanted.

There were so many things he wanted to say, but it was neither the right place nor the right time, not even the right point in the timeline of his life. 

“Chris…”

As if you didn’t do anything to each other the entire night, the second he heard you call his name, his entire body convulsed over you. You let him rest his head on your shoulder for some time as a pleasant sense of fatigue slowly started to envelop you. The acts committed throughout the night were highly questionable, but you felt satisfied.

You felt happy.

“Rest now,” he pulled the sheets to cover you from the shoulder down, “I’ll go take a shower first.”

“Can you wake me up if I fall asleep?”

“Mhm.”

When Chris came back to his bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, you were indeed sleeping. He sat down beside you and watched the way your chest softly rose and fell for a while. He was feeling a weird sense of tightening in his ribcage when he realized he actually didn’t want to wake you up. Could he fake that he tried but you didn’t wake up if you asked him? Could he—?

“Oh, you’re back,” you opened your eyes, sleep still dripping from them.

“I was– I was about to—”

“Mm, you smell good,” you smiled while inhaling the pleasant scent of his shower gel, “I’ll go take a shower. I sacrificed myself to two sex gods tonight.”

Chris involuntarily burst out laughing as you got up to your feet.

“I put out towels for you in the bathroom.”

“Thank you,” you ruffled his damp hair.

You gathered your clothes and walked to the bathroom naked. When you emerged again, you were fully dressed as though you had never seen each other naked before.

“Thank you for tonight,” you peeked into the living room where Chris was lounging on a couch reading, “I had a great time.”

“It’s late. I’ll give you a ride.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know,” he closed the cover of the book and grabbed his car keys, “I want to.”

You were both so tired that nobody uttered a word throughout the whole drive, but it felt safe. It felt nice to have Chris with you. As you were looking out the window watching the streetlights pass by, your heart was doing these weird somersaults, and you were feeling this intense urge to smile like an idiot for some reason.

“Thank you for agreeing to spend your birthday with me,” Chris softly uttered as he pulled the handbrake, then immediately corrected himself, “I mean… with us.”

“It’s not like I was doing you a favor, you know. I had a blast myself,” you smiled knowingly, “You were too hot to handle tonight.”

You saw something on Chris’ face for the first time. It was a smile alright, but it was almost almost laced with a tinge of shyness.

Your heart skipped multiple beats.

“Good night, Chris,” you stole one last glance from him and exited the car.

He watched you until you walked into your building, then went home to properly crash. Little did he know he wasn’t going to be able to get the rest his entire body was craving.

Chris found himself in an unfamiliar room. Sitting. He wasn’t tied or anything, but he wasn’t able to move. He knew the bed he was facing; it was his own. You were on it on fours. So was Minho.

Fucking you.

“Admit it, you want me more,” Minho was smiling maniacally as he pulled on your hair, “You came so hard with me, your legs were shaking.”

“Don’t say that to his face. He’ll never be able to take it,” you looked dead into Chris’ eyes, “No one’s ever gonna love you, Christopher.”

Chris snapped his eyes open with a gasp, completely covered in sweat. He had no idea what the fuck was up with what he witnessed just now. Were you seeing this in your dream by any chance? He didn’t know.

But what he did know was that he did not like what he saw.

He got up from the couch he passed out on and poured himself a tall glass of cold water to soothe his insides. Something at the back of his head was telling him he was neck-deep in trouble, and it was too late to nip it in the bud.

There was nothing he could do anymore besides helplessly waiting for the cancer to spread until it killed him.

「© 2023, exxxtraoddinary · No translations, rewrites, or reposts permitted」

✉ Enjoyed this? It would be cool of you to reblog so that my work can reach more people.

Smutober ~ Day 8 ~Begging ~ Bang Chan [M]

WORD COUNT: 0.8k

PAIRING: Chan x GN!Reader  (No pronouns used)

GENRE: established relationships, minors DNI, begging, blow jobs, whiney bang chan, sub bang chan,

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - Smutober 2023

⤜MASTERLIST

"Please." He whimpered as you ran the tip of your fingers over the length of his cock, his eyes watering a little as he looked at you. You don't think you'd ever seen your boyfriend look this desperate before and it drove you wild with power. You'd heard him beg before, but this was something else, this was something that was driving you insane,

"Beg a little more," You smirked at him as his cheeks began to flame a bright red colour and he let out a small whimper. 

"Please...Suck my cock, just a little." He whimpered out, his hands reaching down to play with himself but you swatted his hand away.

"I told you not to tease me at dinner and what did you do?" You questioned, watching as he pouted out his bottom lip. He knew exactly what he'd been doing all dinner but he never would have expected you to crack the whip like you were doing right now.

"Yn...Please," He whispered as you continued to run your finger along the veins in his dick, smirking as it twitched at the smallest of touches from you. He let out a small hiss as you moved your hand away from him again, he was desperate to feel you around him, to feel your hand or even your mouth if he was lucky enough,

"You can do better than that." You told him as you watched him panting a little, his head falling back against the pillows as he whined out.

"Do you think you deserve my mouth, baby?" You titled your head to the side and he nodded frantically, sitting up straight and staring at you as you met his gaze. His eyes were filled with need and you smirked a little knowing that you had complete control over him right now, it got you off sometimes.

"Please...Fuck, please Yn I'm so desperate," He grunted as you moved to the end of the bed, sinking onto the floor on your knees and watching as your boyfriend scrambled to sit on the edge of the bed. His dick waiting for you as you smirked a little, precum was leaking from the tip and it only drove you more power-hungry.

"Listen to yourself, you're begging for my mouth like a good boy." You chuckled a little, slowly wrapping your hands around the base of his dick and pumping torturously slow.

"You're begging for me to suck your cock like a needy little slut," You cooed sarcastically but Chan didn't care right now,

"Please, Yn." He slips out as he bucks his hips a little trying to move your hand faster but you tighten your grip - just enough for him to grunt but not so that it was painful.

"Please. I need you to make me feel good! I need you, you're all I ever think about...P-Please, Yn, Please, let me cum in your mouth." Your heart was rapidly pounding against your chest before you lowered your head toward the tip of his cock, licking the precum away and moaning at the taste of him.

"Fuck," He hisses, rolling his head back and letting it hang there as you kiss the tip of his dick as he let out a string of curses. His hands stayed by his side and you wrapped your lips around him fully, smirking as you began to slide your mouth down his dick. Chan couldn't help but let out one of the loudest moans you'd ever heard him do and you smirked,

"Jesus, Yn." You smile around him, he sounds so out of breath and it turns you on more knowing that you were the one doing this to your boyfriend. Your tongue swirls as you bob your head slowly, one of your hands twisting at the base of him while your other moves to cup his balls. Your fingers gently worked the tandem while you sucked him hard.

"Please I'm so close," The sound of it urged you on as you began to move your head faster around him, looking up at him through your lashes as you picked up the pace of your hands.

"Fuck, I-I can't...Please...Please let me cum," He begged and you moaned out around him, staring up at him as you watched his eyes on you. His hips began to jerk a little as he felt himself getting closer,

"Ugh shit...I-I'm cumming," He huffs out as you feel his cock twitching in your mouth, spilling into the back of your throat as you swallow everything he gives to you.

"T-Thank you," He panted breathelssly, falling back onto the bed as you let out a small laugh before leaning down and kissing his forehead softly, 

"Let's go shower, I'll let you touch me." You whispered before rushing toward the en-suite, your boyfriend chasing after you.

Tagline: @chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @laylasbunbunny @tinyoonsblog @whitefoxgirl @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @minhosify @choisoorin @straykids5star @heyjiminnie @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @btsiguess-kpop @halesandy

❥outsourcing (m)

↳ With monogamy as the assumed, standard relationship model, what happens when a few years down the line, you and your husband come to the understanding that both of you are interested in exploring more?

You call his friend over for dinner and entertainment, of course.

husband!bang chan x fem!reader x bull!lee minho — ethical non-monogamy, explicit sexual content. [5,8k wc] cws: hot wifing/cuckholding!!, dom/sub dynamics (dom!minho), penetrative sex (unprotected), oral sex (m), hair pulling, rough sex, dirty talk, humiliation, pet names (incl. slut).

Renegotiation of terms.

There are always terms and conditions.

We don’t typically refer to it in such a crass way – the agreed upon conditions of a relationship upon entering it. The expectations and boundaries each individual may have for the other. Typically, most things that would constitute the terms and conditions are assumed upon entry.

Monogamy is assumed. The standard. This is the baseline, unless otherwise stated. The end all, be all of a relationships' foundation, in many cases. Do you want to fuck other people, or not?

Sometimes, when entering a new relationship, we agree to terms that at the time we are happy with. Of course I don’t want to be with anyone else, I love you, why would I? You’re all I could ever need.

The concept of one person providing any and everything you could possibly ever need. Such a socially common set up for failure. An impossible task we ask of partners without even truly stating it. Be everything at all times for me, and I will be the same for you. The idea that seeking anything outside of a partner is bad – when that is precisely what friends, family, colleagues all provide, without the logical connection being made.

Is one person ever truly enough? Is it logical to even believe in such a fairy tale?

The truth of the matter, is that you are not enough. There is comfort, serenity, freedom upon accepting this as the case. We are only human, after all. Being human is okay.

“Do you ever think about it?”

You watch the back of Chan’s head from your seated position at the dining room table – you watch his arms still only briefly from the chopping motion of him working into the onions on the counter before he turns slowly to look behind him – at you, and his brows furrow in confusion. “Think about…what?”

The innocuous conversation about your time together as a couple – now married – had started simply enough, discussing the past and present and all of your little journeys together in between, sexual and not – but naturally, as the hours wore on, the sexual nature had begun looming more and more in the foreground of the talk.

Besides, you had been thinking about it for months, now. How to bring it up. If you even should. Suppose now was as good a time as ever.

It was difficult sneaking it in there, between some recollection of dirty talking and fantasy discussion. He was the one that had brought it up to begin with, after all. He put the thought in your head. Nothing you were too keen on in particular at the time – three or so years back, and in the middle of sex – but the idea stuck with you, creeping back in with more and more frequency. He brought it up. He mentioned it. It was his idea.

But did he even remember?

Bringing an elbow up to the table and placing your chin in your palm, you grin towards him. Your husband. Love of your life. It wasn’t as if you wanted to replace him, after all. He was perfect, amazing, wonderful, and the sex was, too. It wasn’t about any of that.

You weren’t really sure what it was about. Curiosity? Taboo? A sort of itch unable to be scratched, but also lingering without cause. The truth was this: you had perfectly fine dick at home, so why were you wanting more?

He brought it up.

“Remember that anniversary night that we got pretty drunk, you said that thing,” you begin, taking the utmost care in how you traverse your words. “About…someone else?”

It always was cute, the way you could watch Chan’s ears redden in real time.

“Were you serious?”

Chan sets the knife down and turns slowly, leaning the small of his back up against the counter edge as if in need of the support for the conversation that is about to take place. Chewing on the inside of his mouth as if just as carefully attempting to choose his words, he silences for far too long for your own liking, before finally allowing a response from himself.

“Do you want that?”

“Don’t answer my question with another question!” you whine, jokingly throwing a hand towel in his direction and only for it to fall flat on the floor in front of him. He flinches regardless and smiles.

“Fine,” he says, before making his way to sit across from you at the table. “Then we need to like…talk about this.”

Chan reaches forward and takes your free hand into one of his own, gently rubbing his thumb over the top of it and bashfully smiles at you. Ears still bright with shyness, and he pulls his eyes down and away from your own briefly before answering the question.

“For me? Yeah, I mean,” he pauses, once again thinking through his response carefully and in real time. “I don’t want to pressure you into anything but…I think about it, yeah.”

“Do you jerk off to it?”

“Oh come on, really?”

“I feel like that’s the best indicator of how into something you are,” you joke, “if you come to it, then you’re into it. At least, the idea of it.”

Pulling his hand away and sitting back in his chair to cross his arms, playfully huffy at the way the conversation has turned, he rolls his eyes before reluctantly answering. “Yes! Is that what you want me to say? Yes, I have.”

“Okay, good,” you say, reaching forward again with a grabby hand indicating that you wish to receive physical affection from him just as he had been giving prior to the line of questioning. “What is it about it that you…like?”

You can tell that your husband struggles with coming to terms with the conversation taking place. Not from a place of humiliation, or dissatisfaction, but rather that it was one he hadn’t intended on ever having, most likely. A conversation that he had never once played out in his head, or practiced. A passing whim one drunken night, locked away into the back of his mind – only to be indulged between him and his hand – now bare and laid out on the table for questioning. By his wife. In regards to a monogamous marriage.

…Unless?

Chan shifts in his seat and gives his hand back to you, bringing his elbow up to mirror your own posture before responding. “Suppose…something about watching you – would just be incredibly sexy to me. Making eye contact with you while it happens even if I’m not involved.”

And now you’re really taken aback, because the original assumption had been one of a threesome, but now with new information present – you realize the two of you had been on much different pages all along – and the difficulty of not expressing your shock at the revelation holds firm as it paints your facial features. “Not involved?”

But he only smiles in reply, as if the initial timidity had already worn off with the one, single expression of his desires. However, perhaps he had merely passed it to you, now, feeling the tips of your ears heat up at the implications racing through your mind.

Not a threesome. Watching.

“You think about watching another man fuck me?”

Just right out with it, then.

Chan chuckles at the fact that you’ve finally caught up with what’s actually being discussed and squeezes your hand in affirmation. “You know I’ve never been the jealous type, babe.”

“I mean, yeah,” you stumble through your words, “I just figure…most men would at least want to be involved.”

“I would be involved, I’d be there, just wouldn’t be the one fucking you.”

“You’ve really thought about this before?” you ask, suspicious.

“More than you even know.”

Your eyes widen in silent shock at the admission. You learn so much about your husband everyday, suppose today would be no different, would it?

“Besides,” he begins again, “you’re the one that broached this conversation, so obviously you’ve been thinking about it, too.”

“Yeah, a threesome, not-”

“Fucking another man, in general. The details are just that, really.”

Chan saying it like that makes you feel a little guilty, you realize. Shying away from the topic both verbally and physically – gently attempting to pull your hand from his own you watch the way his face Changes from playful to concerned – he always was incredibly attentive and quick on the pickup. “Whoa, whoa,” he stammers, “what’s wrong?”

Concern lacing your own features, you refrain from making eye contact with him – unsure of the turn that the discussion had taken. “I don’t want you to think that you’re like…not good enough or something, or like I’m constantly fantasizing about other men, or-”

“Aww, babe,” Chan coos, motioning you out of your chair and over to him. He seats you on his lap and quickly wraps strong arms around you. “I don’t. I am not even a little insecure about this – or about us – you have to know that.”

Chan kisses your arm, the only thing in direct kissable range and smiles up at you as you look down at him. “Trust me, that I know what I’m okay with, yeah? You don’t have to babysit me, I promise.”

“Okay, I believe you.”

“So, shall we dabble, then? Wade in the pools of non-monogamy?”

Hearing him say the words, non-monogamy, it sort of makes your head spin. Obviously, that is precisely what is at hand, so it being said shouldn’t elicit such a bizarre reaction deep within you. Innate guilt, worry, almost a sense of dirtiness begins to bubble up in your gut – and realistically, you know why.

Monogamy is the implied social standard. Anything outside of that is wrong. That’s what you’ve grown up being told…by everyone, by everything. Is it really okay, to bring someone else into your marriage, even if both parties are enthusiastically on board?

Hell yeah it is.

The truth is, renegotiating the terms of ones marriage – even just for a night, takes time. It takes work. It takes numerous conversations – and as a result, it’s approximately six months that go by before the logistics ever really feel ironed out enough to make the dive. Discussions of friends? Mutual friends? One-sided friends? Strangers? Each coupling will have their own preference of whom to invite in, even be it only for an evening, but upon settling on the first term, it’s only a whole slew of others thereafter. After a point, you begin to consider if sex is ever even going to happen, or if the two of you will simply talk about it forever.

But such is how it must be, to help ensure that the night – and relationship – not end in catastrophe.

It does, however, sneak up on you faster than expected – once a third and the date arrive. Standing in front of your bathroom mirror, clipping the backing of your earring on – is when you hear the voice of your husband greeting another of only semi-familiarity.

Lee Minho was Chan’s friend. He was in the wedding party. The two of you had spent just enough time together that you felt comfortable around him but not so much so that he felt too close to you, specifically. The perfect candidate. Drop-dead gorgeous. Not shy about his particular…endeavors, either. He fit the bill, perfectly.

Because you and your husband were searching for something quite specific for the evening.

It was in that moment, though – knowing that the two men were both in your home now, that it felt truly real. Of course, there was still much conversation to take place before anyone's clothing would be coming off, but he was here. Your husband was here. You were here. You were…going to have sex with another man for your husbands viewing pleasure tonight.

Probably not a story for the future grandchildren.

“Hey.”

There they are. The two men of the night standing in the doorway, now both looking at you as you slink into the living room slowly – as if not to disturb, and you can’t help but carefully scan the expressions on both of them – as if looking for the tiniest sign of reluctance.

But Minho knows why he’s here tonight – naturally, best not to spring this sort of arrangement on an unsuspecting party.

“Hey,” Minho says, continuing to shrug off his coat and hanging it on the rack next to the door. With shoes already off, he makes his way over to you and kisses the air next to your cheek. “Long time no see, huh? You look nice.”

It feels normal, in ways. It also feels incredibly bizarre. Perhaps you expected him to act some way, some way different – although you’re not sure how. But he wasn’t. He was the same as always. You aren’t sure if it makes it feel better or worse. Weird?

You look over at your husband, once again looking for any signs that this should end now before it even gets started.

But Chan only smiles. All lights green for go.

Chan handles dinner as he typically does, and it goes smoothly as expected. Catching up with Minho as if he’s any other house guest – except for tonight, a careful consideration for the alcohol intake by all parties. A soft ‘two drink maximum’ is agreed upon long before his arrival by all participants, as to not get too carried away on any end. Once food is eaten and plates cleared, Chan pours everyone their second and final glasses of wine for the night before taking his seat at the shared table again and he inhales deeply, purposefully.

Because it’s time for negotiations.

“So, suppose we should talk about the rest of the night, then?”

You shuffle in your seat a bit at the idea of how the talk will go, despite having already had similar discussions previously over the months. Minho is no stranger to the topic at hand, and it’s not even his first time being a third to a couple – information he casually mentioned upon the first inquiry – it was comforting to you in a particular way, that at least someone involved in tonight's festivities had been here before.

“Pretty much,” Chan starts, and surprisingly confident, “the two of you just have fun. I don’t have any particular boundaries of what you can and can’t do, but I think it’s best if we use the color system for safety, just in case.”

Green means “everything is good,” yellow means “slow down, I need a moment to recollect myself,” and red means “immediate full stop.”

“Yeah, that sounds best,” Minho agrees, and then turns his sight to you across the table. “Are you okay with that? Is there anything you can think of that you do or don’t want me to do?”

Just the question itself makes you feel a little light-headed. You had thought about this numerous times already, for months, and yet your mind still felt empty in the moment. As if not even a second of consideration had been had prior. It was excitement, but it was also fear. The fear of doing something wrong. The fear of the potential aftermath of tonight.

Sensing your hesitation, Minho looks at Chan before reaching his hand across and taking your own. “Hey, you don’t have to do this just because I’m here, seriously, we don’t have to do anything, I can go home now, later, right in the middle of it – it’s all fine by me.”

“No, no!” you insist, realizing how standoffish you appear. Reluctant. scared. You are a little bit, but in no way are you rethinking. “I do, I want to…I'm just, nervous? I guess?”

“Is it because I’m here?” Chan asks suddenly, and you realize upon hearing the words that yeah, it kind of is. He smiles and nods at your admission, gently reaching over and adding his own hand onto the pile of reaffirming ones already laid out atop the table.

“Don’t worry about me, if you’re happy, then I’m happy.”

Arms pull back and negotiations continue, easier than before. Minho asks about the common things; condoms, anal, penis in vagina, oral…along with some less common things that are more within the scope of the role he’s meant to play that night, and with boundaries more or less set, the three of you stand up, and head towards the bedroom. Minho walks ahead, taking your hand into his own to lead you – briefly looking back at your husband, with a smile on his face – it’s the first time that the guilt and fear truly subsides – and is replaced with excitement, anticipation, desire.

Pulling up a chair, Chan sits himself down a bit distanced from the corner of the bed as to allow ample space for the scene that is about to take place before him. You suspect that perhaps he had downplayed his interest in the whole thing, with how the smile on his face never diminishes even once Minho starts kissing you.

You think it’s charming, but you know that eventually, you’re going to have to let the thought of your husband fall by the wayside to truly enjoy the fun that the night has to offer.

Standing at the side of the bed, Minho gently wraps one, strong, arm around your waist and pulls you flush against him before kissing you on the mouth – and the excitement of another man kissing you, lips completely unfamiliar after years of familiarity, immediately sends a rush of anticipation to your groin. Gently sucking at your bottom lip, teeth ghosting against the flesh – you’re reminded that Minho had been invited to play a very particular role that night – one that Chan never had been all that willing to play, even after all of your years together.

Minho was there to use you.

Pulling back from you, you already feel a bit dazed from the rush of adrenaline – looking at the man before you as he begins unbuttoning his white dress shirt, looking at you through long lashes and whispy, black hair, he smiles briefly before quickly kissing you again.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, remember that,” he whispers as he continues fiddling with his buttons. “Ever. You can tell me to stop any time.”

“I know,” you respond, a bit breathier with want than you had liked, and Minho chuckles under his breath at the effect that he’s already had on you before shrugging his shirt off and bending down for the bottom of your dress – carefully pulling it up and over your head.

Now it was very real.

Minho kisses you again, arms pulling you against him, and you revel at the way it feels to have the heat of another man on your skin. When you had imagined the moment, you hadn’t thought it to feel anything like this. The excitement, the anticipation, the needy want of another man inside of you, and already? Truthfully, you were a little humiliated at what he was doing to you.

“I’m gonna start the scene now,” Minho says quietly, looking you in the eyes and scanning your features. “Remember what I said.”

“Yeah, okay,” you exhale, and it’s shaky.

“Are you okay?” Minho chuckles again before starting, and you can only laugh at yourself in response.

“Yeah, you’re…I want to fuck you.”

You hear Chan off in the corner, and he’s laughing at your admission, which only causes Minho to laugh a bit, himself. “Okay well, we’ll get there, needy.”

Hearing Minho call you needy certainly doesn’t offset your desire for him, but watching his expression harden and his eyes darken right before you – as if settling into character – only sets off the growing desire in the pit of your stomach more.

“Get on your knees.”

Minho is already unbuckling his belt and prying his zipper down as the demand leaves his lips, and you’re all too happy to follow suit, dropping quickly and placing your hands on his thighs for leverage as he exposes himself to you. Slightly thinner than Chan, but also slightly longer – the idea of taking a dick that you’re not familiar with rushes to the forefront of your mind and the familiar ache of want begins to settle between your legs.

You haven’t even touched it, yet.

“Why don’t you go ahead and make coming here worth my time, then?”

And you’re all too happy to oblige, wrapping a hand around the base of his cock and slowly working him before gently running a circle over the tip of him with your tongue – Minho’s breath hitches as he watches you then take the majority of his length into your mouth. Three strokes of your lips onto him, Minho brings a hand up and into your hair, gripping slightly and pulling you off of him. He smiles, rubbing the head of himself against your already red lips and watching the way you already – seemingly desperately – wish to have him in your mouth again.

“Look at you,” he says, satisfaction lacing his tone, “so desperate for strange cock. Color?”

It almost gives you whiplash, but you answer right away, “green.”

“Good, that’s what I thought – now show me just how bad you want it.”

And you do, in quick fashion. Combining the motion of your mouth and your hands as you work him, tongue lapping circles over the tip of his cock when you pull off, you love the way he watches every motion of you on him – and almost with a look of disdain. As if he doesn’t respect you, as if you’re nothing but a place to come for him.

Precisely everything that Chan could never do.

Working him quickly, you feel his fingertips curl into your scalp as the words leave his lips – except that they’re not intended for you.

“Mmm, your wife sucks cock pretty well, might have to make a regular arrangement of this.”

You think in that moment, that you might come untouched after all.

But just as quickly, Minho pulls you off of him and motions for you to get onto the bed as he pulls his jeans from his legs the rest of the way. You quickly oblige, and it’s not long before Minho is up and between your legs – meeting you face to face again and kissing you rough, with teeth. needy and hard between your legs. Hands snaking up his toned arms – not as thick and built as Chan – but enough to be strong, you feel all of the ways that he’s different from the man that you married. That you love. The thought brings your attention back to Chan, seated across the room – hand firmly and slowly wrapped around himself.

He was enjoying watching it. Suppose it really was his ultimate fantasy all along: watching you fuck another man for his entertainment.

And naturally, the fact that he was enjoying it, touching himself to it, only made the desire pool between your legs that much more.

“Don’t look at him,” Minho says, pulling your face over and towards him with a finger, “you’re mine, tonight.”

Oh my god.

You feel Minho’s hand slink down your body and between your legs, fingers pressed up against your clothed pussy, and you watch the way genuine shock takes his features – it’s almost out of character in the split second – it might actually be out of character.

You wore lace panties. Can’t hide much with that.

“Oh my God,” he exclaims, barely touching the soaked fabric between your legs, “you’re so wet.”

“Minho!” you shyly reply, swatting his arm as it holds him in a hovering position over you, and he only laughs in response.

“Sorry, I’m just – wow – good.”

And it’s as if he remembers to slip back into a more domineering character, that he adds, “I was going to eat you out, but suppose I don’t have to.”

Pulling himself up and seated on his heels, Minho slips a finger on each side of your hips into your panties, “can I take these off?” and you nod hurriedly in response. Minho’s eyes follow the string of arousal that connects the fabric to you as he pulls it from you in near awe – and playfully shakes his head at you before crawling back up your torso and settling down against you – head of his length just faintly pressed against your folds.

“Sure you don’t want me to wear a condom?”

“No, I-” and you pause, eyes pulling towards your husband again – his own eyes intently gazing upon the display in front of him – and you snap.

“I want to feel you, I want to feel all of you.”

Minho only smiles, dipping his head down into the crook of your neck as he reaches down to line himself up with you. Kissing your skin, his lips make their way to the shell of your ear as he slowly presses himself forward and in.

“God baby, you want me so bad, hm? Don’t worry, I’ll have you drooling for me…”

It’s a whisper, dialogue only to be heard between the two of you – not for your husbands ears, and the implications make your head spin, along with the slow stretch of unfamiliarity prying you apart in new and different ways from what you’re used to. Once pressed hip to hip, Minho stills and pulls himself up and off of you to look at you – taking you in visually.

“Can I move?”

“Please,” you just about beg.

If you were honest, Minho was being much less domineering than you had expected – you assume that it’s due to this being the first time that this arrangement is taking place – that he’s playing it safe and not wanting to take too many risks. You kind of wish he would be riskier, but the excitement of a new partner is already doing majority of the work for him as it is – mind racing at how wrong it is, allowing another man to fuck you, and raw at that.

And come inside of you?

With just the thought, your walls tighten against him and he feels it, humming at the sensation in a slow build up to a pace that suits the both of you – Minho hovers over you with both palms flat against the mattress to either side, looking down at how he enters and exits you – and then back up at the absolute delight splashed across your face.

Biting your lip as his pace builds, the overwhelming need to vocalize threatens you, and it feels all too real in the moment. Moaning as another man fucks you, for your husband to hear, but Minho’s too quick on the uptake and he recognizes it. Another easy win, for him.

“You worried he’s gonna hear you?” Minho groans as he finally settles into his pace – fucking hard into you and the sounds echoing throughout the room. “Worried he’s gonna hear how much you love my cock? He can hear you, he’s going to hear you, it’s okay.”

You can’t even control it at that point, exasperated fuck and oh my God escaping your bitten red lips as he fucks into you, and it only makes him thrust against you harder – so hard that it pushes you up the bed. “That’s right, don’t hold back, let him hear you, baby, let him know you like it.”

Head spinning, and muscles tightening, you scramble to grab onto anything that you feel will give you any sort of leverage as you feel your first orgasm quickly threatening – Minho’s forearms seeming as good a choice as any as your nails dig in, and he hisses in response with a smile, all the while continuing his relentless pace into you.

“You can come” he insists with a soft, gentle utterance, “you can come for me, and you can come for him.”

And for whatever reason, that’s what makes you snap.

The orgasm tears through you in violent fashion, eyes darting down to watch your husband as he pulls at himself at the sight. Looking back up at the man taking you through it, he grins down at you with his bottom lip pulled up between his teeth in satisfaction.

As Minho finishes riding you through it, he presses himself down against you again – mouth against the skin of your cheek, hot breath against you as he breathes out, and you can feel him begin to withdraw from you.

“That one was for me, now one for him, hm?”

Before you can think through the implications of the words, Minho pulls up and away – taking your limp body with him and turning you to face Chan across the room – your arms barely able to catch you from face planting into the mattress, and the man steadies your hips up and towards him and just as fluidly sinks himself into you again with a groan as he leans forward and settles a fist in your hair – ensuring that you’re watching your husband just before you.

“You like having him watch you?”

“Y-yes,” you stutter out and against the sheets.

Minho looks up and at Chan, “you like watching her get fucked?”

It’s breathy and shaken, but a “yeah” escapes from him in response.

“Good,” Minho says, burying himself deep into you from behind – so hard that the force and weight of him pushes you down and flat against the bed beneath you – now straddling you from behind, he brings his hand back, flat against the between of your shoulders to hold you in place as he continues into you. “She’s so wet, think she’s going to come watching you.”

Chan groans at the words, and the truth of the matter is that he might be right – feeling the familiar coiling between your legs again, and already at that.

“You gonna come for him, baby?” Minho growls, his motions harsher and rougher than before, getting more comfortable in his role as a sort of dom for the night. “Gonna let him watch you get filled up with my cum, maybe?”

“Fuck, Minho,” is all you can manage through gritted teeth, fingertips curled into the sheets beneath you begging for any purchase onto reality, but the truth is, you’re watching Chan – watching the way he palms himself at the sight of another man fucking you, talking to you like this, saying that he’s going to come inside of you – and Chan is enjoying it. He’s close.

It only gets you there even faster.

“Oh, hear that? Thought of me coming in her has her moaning my name,” he says smugly, thrusts harder than ever before, “well go ahead then, milk me, slut. Earn it.”

Quickly, you feel Minho lean down and against your ear, “can I cum inside of you?” and you just as quickly answer in affirmation. You had discussed it prior, but you appreciate the check in, nonetheless. He pulls back up, both hands gripped into the flesh of your behind as he rocks into you, desperate pleas for him not to stop falling from your mouth as you bring your attention back up to your husband – and with finality, you deliver the final blow of the night.

“I’m coming, please, please, i-inside, I want-”

Your incoherent babbling is enough to set both of the men over the edge, but it’s Chan who is the first to go, breathy curses leaving his lips in what you think might be the hardest he’s ever come – and you think to yourself in one split-second moment of clarity how lucky you are to be in such a position where you can simply witness it, as almost a bystander of sorts – to the absolute visual glory that is your husband stroking himself to completion as milky-clear ropes of cum coat his abs and fingers upon the display before him.

You’re the second to find your end, tightening hard around Minho’s cock at the visual of watching Chan finish, and it’s all it takes to topple the man inside of you over the edge – fingernails gripped deep into your skin as he fucks into you hard – three, four more times – throbbing through his release inside of you before slowly coming to a halt and slumping over your back with a heaving chest.

As sanity begins to come back to you, you consider the fact that there’s a lot of post-nut clarity to wade through right about now.

But Minho takes over, just as he had majority of the night – being the sort of guide throughout – he soon after finishing withdraws from you and peels himself from you altogether, lying down next to and brushing hair from your face.

“Are you okay? How do you feel?”

It takes you a few moments to answer, but the concern across his face pushes you forward. he’s worried. He needs to hear that you’re okay. That it’s all okay. That he didn’t fuck up and that you’re not feeling regretful, guilty, remorse.

“Yeah,” you finally exhale, “yeah, I’m okay, I feel good.”

And Minho smiles at the response, feeling relieved. He reaches down and finds your hand, lacing his fingers with your own, before leaning forward and kissing you on the forehead. “Good.”

With that, he then slowly cranes his neck up and over to get a visual of Chan, still breathy and spent just a bit across the room. “You good, champ?”

But Chan can only chuckle in response at first, before nodding and acknowledging the mess before him, “if she’s happy, then I’m happy.”

“Thanks for everything again,” Chan says, handing Minho a bag of food to take home in the morning. “You do good work, very professional,” he jokes.

“Don’t talk to me like I’m work for hire, oh my God,” Minho scoffs, pulling his jacket on and taking the bag from Chan. “I did you the favor!”

“Fucking my wife is a favor to me?”

“Evidently, I didn’t invite myself.”

“Don’t listen to him,” you smile, playfully slapping Chan on the arm before reaching towards Minho and hugging him goodbye. “Thanks for last night, you took really good care of us, it means a lot.”

Minho sort of rolls his eyes, as if embarrassed by the idea of being complimented for a job well done, but says that you’re more than welcome to you before turning back towards your husband, and with an elbow to the arm and a sly grin, “be careful buddy, might steal your girl.”

And Chan rolls his eyes in response, thanking Minho again for his time before pushing him out of the front door in envious jest.

With the door closed, and an end to the chapter, Chan pulls you into his embrace and hugs you tightly, much to your surprise. “I love you,” he says.

“Babe,” you start, apprehensively, “are you really worried he’s going to take me? You don’t have to-”

“No,” Chan interjects, pulling you from him and just as lightning quick hoisting you up and over his shoulder before heading to the bedroom.

“But don’t worry, I’m about to undo everything he just did.”

♡ send me your thoughts and feelings in my ask.

—this is a oneshot, there will be no part 2.

「𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕'𝚜 𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚗」 · course iii

❝𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎.❞

WC: 10k (42 min. avg. reading time)

⛔ — Not suitable for readers who might get triggered by rough play and/or themes of sexual deviance. The author chooses not to issue tags for every act to preserve tension and some element of surprise. By clicking "Keep Reading", you accept to proceed at your own risk.

⚠ — Open discussions of sexual deviance, extreme possessiveness as a kink (in play context; not as a personality trait), heavy breeding kink, rimming, verbal mentions of somnophilia and anal play (see masterlist for more).

★ There is no taglist. Please turn on notifications if you wish to be updated.

※ This work of fiction is intended for 18+ audiences only.

That evening wasn’t the first time Chris caught himself randomly thinking about you.

Getting on someone’s nerves, teasing them to no end just to watch their reactions shouldn’t have been this much fun, but it just was. You were just so interesting. Since day one. You became even more interesting when he started raiding your dreams. He had a magnifying glass to look right into your deepest desires now, study them for not-so-pure motives, and they had become his favorite movies to watch. You seemed to find him just as fascinating. He seemed to turn you on just as much, to the extent that you would concoct private shows for him under the transparent veil of obliviousness. You could have just asked him to come watch you, but he understood where you were coming from. Sometimes it felt much better when it felt wrong, didn’t it? The things that weren’t meant to be confessed out loud were always much more delicious. Like any forbidden fruit was.

“Is this bagel to your liking?”

He turned to his right in the backseat of the lavish Bentley that was supposed to take you out of town to The Culinary Institute and watched you settle in. You were unknowingly twinning with Chris with your matching black blazer and jeans attire, but while he was clad in his silver chains around his neck and wrist, you had golden details to contrast him like the buttons of your jacket and the delicate knuckle rings you had on.

“Perfectly golden Asiago,” he observed after checking you out from head to toe, “How’d you know it’s my favorite?”

“It is?”

“No, but I wouldn’t mind demolishing one all of a sudden,” he nonchalantly commented and reached for the perfectly cooled bottle sitting in the bucket in front of him, “Champagne?”

“Stop being nice, Chef, it’s weird,” you contorted your face while pushing your weekender bag under the seat in front of you.

“Don’t be formal with me,” he handed you a sweating flute and proceeded to pour a handsome amount of the bubbly drink for himself, “This is not dinner service. We’re just going to have a good time.”

You were so used to Chris’ threatening tone whenever he was not yelling that the change in his demeanor felt like whiplash, not to mention the subtly flirtatious undertones of his request. You hadn’t even taken one sip from the champagne yet something warm was already spreading all over your face and… well… your other parts.

“Are you being serious right now?”

“Of course,” he shrugged, not getting why you were this surprised, “I’m your commanding officer only at work. We’re just two colleagues outside.”

You couldn’t help your smile. The validation meant everything to you as a professional.

As an individual, however…

“No takebacks, Christopher,” you slurped on your glass obnoxiously. He smirked in return and got back to the notes he had in his hands.

“Got any toys on you today?” he asked without looking at you, his voice so aloof one would think he was asking you about the weather. You avoided choking on your drink at the last second.

“Sure, I brought you a stroker,”  you deadpanned, “You want it now or later?”

“Don’t make me pat you down,” he faced you again, firm like a teacher asking the resident troublemaker of the class to behave on a school trip, “I can’t have you cumming on the podium. This is a serious event.”

“No, I don’t have any toys on me and I won’t be cumming on the podium. You have my word. Happy?”

“We’ll see about that,” he stared you down, barely able to stop himself from smiling.

After a ninety-minute drive, you arrived at your destination. The second Chris stepped foot into the building, he was of course welcomed like the celebrity he was. You felt privileged to be affiliated with him as it was, let alone being invited to an event like this, and while his success had nothing to do with you, you were still beaming with pride watching him get showered with love and respect.

“Chef Bang, what an honor!” the moderator of the event exclaimed with a shriek-like greeting.

“The honor is mine,” Chris firmly shook the woman’s hand with a charming smile and introduced you, “This is the associate I’ve told you about. You might as well change the name of the Q&A to Chef Corneille Dish Session.”

After shaking your hand, she laughed a bit too loudly while touching his arm and led the way inside the auditorium.

“Yes offense, it wasn’t that funny,” you muttered in a voice only Chris can hear, “She wants you to fuck her. Hard.”

“The only way I know how,” he responded with his warm smile reserved for strangers as if you were talking about some benign topic, “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Maybe it’s my only business, fucking tease,” you mumbled under your breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Let’s go inside.”

All in all, the event was a success. Chris was nothing but endlessly charismatic throughout, making perfect use of his quick wit while engaging in banter with the audience, so it was understandable why the entire room had the fattest crush on him. To you, however, it was a little weird to see him like this. These wholesome shenanigans were most definitely a front, not that his true colors were completely offputting, but you couldn’t comprehend why he felt like he couldn’t show more of his actual self to people. It wasn’t like he was completely hiding it—half the reason Wolfgang had a full house day after day was to watch the open kitchen action and his relentless temper tantrums. Was he just portraying himself as a showbiz maniac who was otherwise utterly pleasant?

Or was there something else entirely that ran deeper?

“This was lovely, Chef. We would love to invite you for dinner tonight,” the woman whose name you learned to be Lily alluringly smiled at him, which made you question whether this was a group dinner invitation or if she was legitimately asking him out on a date.

“I appreciate it very much, but as you can imagine, we’re a little travel-worn,” he politely declined, “Raincheck for the next time we’re in town, though!”

Chris basically rushed you out of that room towards the car before anybody had any chance to insist and instructed the driver to go back to the hotel.

“Why’d you say no?”

“I’m not gonna waste my time with what they consider good food when we’re staying at a fucking Conrad,” he explained straightforwardly, “You didn’t think I picked that hotel because the rooms are comfortable, did you?”

“You could have totally gotten laid tonight. Just saying.”

“The night is still young,” he spread his legs as wide as he could to make himself comfortable and turned to you, “Who’s to say I won’t?”

You tried your best to be subtle while staring at his crotch, but whether you were successful or not was a bit questionable.

Chris had asked for a table in the semi-private penthouse dining room in order to peacefully eat away from the prying eyes since he was in no mood to be cordial with the masses. You were in the middle of admiring the tastefully decorated spacious dining room as well as the fantastic view it offered right in front of the table when the head chef of the hotel walked in to greet Chris personally. 

“Chef Marshall Martin,” the good-looking man roughly around the same age as Chris politely kissed your hand and introduced himself, “Huge pleasure to have you here. Chris and I go way back.”

“Please, the pleasure is all mine,” you reciprocated his warm smile as he guided you to your seats.

“Didn’t know you were capable of taking someone on a date,” Marshall teased Chris and gestured to a waiter to attend to you, “Feel free to go off the menu. What can I get you?”

You stole a glance from Chris, waiting for him to correct the misinformation that this was a date, but he didn’t bother. He knowingly smiled instead as his eyes scanned all the dining options available and then he put down the leather-bound menu that was the size of a yearbook for a small school.

“Do you mind if I order for both of us?”

“Not at all.”

“Oysters with macerated lemon as appetizers. As for the entrée, roasted meat with wine reduction and spiced honey sauce with maca salad on the side. We’ll see about the rest.”

He had uttered all his orders in a single breath as if he were reciting a poem he had memorized. You, on the other hand, were questioning whether his choices were at all deliberate or not. Oysters, capsaicin, honey, maca… You weren’t dumb. You knew what these foods allegedly were. 

Fucking aphrodisiacs.

“He’s really into you, huh? I hope you have protection on you, miss,” the chef shot you a mischievous smile, then addressed Chris directly, “Right away, friend.”

You took the liberty of choosing the wine to pair with your food and waited until your conversation with the sommelier was over to say something, needlessly going over the recommendations over and over again just to have Chris seethe in his chair.

“Really into me,” you echoed the chef’s words back to Chris with a straight face when you were finally alone, “Yet he hasn’t even asked me if I have a boyfriend or not.”

His face instantly fell at your insinuation. No, he hadn’t asked that, but… Wasn’t it a given that you were single considering—?

“Y-you do?”

You dragged on the suspense examining every single detail on his face. How his eyes very slightly widened, how he gulped, how his posture got tense all of a sudden, and you had the time of your fucking life doing that.

“No, I don’t,” you eventually answered, completely cracking your façade with an annoying grin. 

You got him so good that his relief couldn’t have been more apparent. You downright burst into heartfelt laughter as he rolled his eyes and reached for the glass of water in front of him.

“Why the fuck would you say that then, jesus fucking…” he downed the cold liquid in one go to calm down.

The venue, the view, the food, the conversation, everything was just so pleasant. By the end of the wine bottle, you were both properly buzzed and filterless, and the night only promised to get more candid with the two Brandy Alexanders that arrived at the table to serve as your digestifs.

“Okay, I gotta come clean about something,” you reached for your purse and fished for something in it, “I didn’t have it in me, but I did lie to you.”

When you showed him the slightly curved pastel purple bullet vibrator you had with you, Chris started laughing his ass off.

“You have a fucking problem, you know?”

“Whatevs, dude. I’m not gonna apologize for enjoying a sex-positive lifestyle.”

“Is that fancy talk for being super horny?” he raised his brows, “Why are you this worked up all the time?”

“It’s called having a high sex drive.”

He looked infinitely entertained, but when his laughter receded into the darkness, his expression got a tinge more serious. He looked like he was about to say something but was in desperate pursuit of the right things to say.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot,” you sipped on the creamy drink. Chris took a brief pause and finally spilled the beans.

“What you said to Minho the other day,” he started scratching his napkin without looking at you, “How come you can talk about these things so openly?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” you shrugged, “Just because you’re into some uncommon stuff doesn’t mean there’s something fundamentally wrong with you.” 

“You’re not scared people would judge you for it?”

“They can if they want. At the end of the day, I’m the one who gets to have fulfilling sex while they are stuck with their orgasmless lives,” you leaned back in your chair and crossed your legs under the table, “Don’t you have anything you enjoy a little left of the center that makes your toes curl really hard?”

Man, did he. 

Ironically enough, this was the first time anyone had openly asked him such a question—besides the people who had to know, that is. Otherwise, how was he going to get his money’s worth? Even talking to an experienced professional felt like he was losing five years of his life every single time. Sure, professional. He knew it. He just fucking knew that they thought he was a freak and wondered when he would stop visiting.

“Maybe,” he responded, eyes intently on his glass.

“Such as?”

He averted his eyes again. He wasn’t talking, but his silence told you everything you needed to know. That was why he had asked you that very question in the first place, wasn’t it? He really thought you would judge him for something like this.

Just what kind of people was Chris surrounded with to feel this way?

“Oh, come on. It’s not fair you know something that personal about me when I don’t know anything in return,” you nudged him a little.

“Then you shouldn’t have blurted it out.”

“What do you want as a guarantee?” you put your bargaining chip on the table to encourage him to open up to you, “I feel like simply giving you my word is not going to cut it.”

“No, it’s not,” Chris finally looked you in the eyes again, “Tell me something you wouldn’t tell anyone else that easily. Something that you would only tell someone you trust.”

Only someone you trust. 

You might have been comfortable in your own skin, but that obviously didn’t mean you would randomly share intimate details about yourself with strangers out of context. You had your fair share of skeletons locked in some closet somewhere, and the only reason you felt like you could joke about that with Minho that one time was… well, because it was Minho—a firm believer of ‘To each his own’ that gave no fucks, so you didn’t make much of it. It was simple banter. Then you suddenly remembered what Chris said to you in his office. 

Trust is not given. It’s fucking earned.

No wonder he was the most private person you knew. He was actually asking you to give him a reason so that he could begin to trust you.

“Oh, boy,” you jokingly hissed, “This is where you’ll think I’m super weird, isn’t it?”

“I would never do such a thing.” 

You knew he meant it. His voice came out firm, but not in its usual assertive tone. More like he was confronting you. Telling you that it was a lie.

It tugged at your heartstrings for some reason.

“Fine,” you heaved a very deep sigh, “I love possessiveness in bed. As a kink, not as a personality trait. Let’s get that super clear.”

“Possessiveness?” Chris contorted his face in mild confusion, “That’s what you think is outrageous?”

“It is because as much as it’s about belongingness, I like the extreme version of it during play.”

“Extreme as in?”

“The idea of having someone I’m into maniacally crazy about me does things to me. That’s as far as devotion can get.”

Oh. 

You were one of those, huh? A claim enthusiast who liked pushing the boundaries of worship to the next level. Simply telling you how beautiful you were wouldn’t do it for you, would it? You needed something more. Much more. A twisted proof of loyalty no matter how make-believe it was.

His pulse started escalating unbeknownst to him as if he was in the middle of watching a very tense scene of some suspense movie.

“So what is it? Is there an act associated with it, or…?”

“It’s the talk actually. Say we’re in the middle of sex and all of a sudden you go batshit crazy about how some guy looked at me earlier that day, throw pretend threats around, and fuck me harder because, and I quote, I’m yours only,” you grabbed your glass and looked right into his eyes, “I live for that shit.”

Yours only. 

So it was true—you did have a thing for claiming. Chris could actually feel something shifting in him, clicking together like a perfect match with his own longings, and it was getting much harder to restrain himself.

“Is that limited to roleplaying only, or do you have a thing for dirty talk in general?”

“Whatever feels natural. I’m agnostic about scripted sex, but I do believe in the potency of heartfelt cursing,” you put down your glass and clasped your hands on the table, “And if my partner starts moaning my name, I’ll probably cream myself five minutes in. Sound is a powerful thing.”

“So you like it when your partner is vocal.”

“You don’t? How else would you know there is mutual pleasure?” you made a fair point, “Would you rather I wait for my needs to dawn on you, or straight up tell you to fuck me as hard as you can when you’re choking me?”

His face changed drastically. You were doing it again, saying all these things, not having the slightest clue about how much it was affecting him. How much you were driving him crazy. How feral he was going just with your words alone. Or maybe you knew it perfectly and you were doing it on fucking purpose.

You flashed a satisfied smile when he gulped that thickly and got up to head to the restroom.

“Exactly,” you stroked under his chin with two of your fingers before you walked away and whispered into his ear, “Christopher.”

His eyes automatically closed when you touched him, and he felt his cock twitch hard as he let out a loud exhale.

God, I need to fuck you.

Chris never thought he’d see the day he would witness a reflection of himself in a different shade. Sure, he found you gorgeous, but it wasn’t simply a matter of looks. You were just so unapologetically yourself that he couldn’t help getting more and more attracted to you with every exchange. There was no way he could prove it, but you felt like a long-lost piece of him, and he just knew it in his bones that sex with you would be atom rearranging.

“Alright, where were we?” you pulled him back to earth when you returned to the table.

“You were giving me a handy tutorial on how to fuck you just right.”

Jesus fucking—

That was nothing short of impulsively divulging your intrusive thoughts like some subcategory of Tourette’s. He didn’t mean to say that out loud at all. Chris was still so much under the influence of his internal monologue about you that he blurted out without thinking, and even he knew how crass that came across. He was actually getting ready to correct himself before you beat him to breaking the silence and let out a heartfelt laughter.

“Yeah, about that, why am I the only one telling you about these things?” you furrowed your brows, “Long story short, just communicate with your partner and you’re golden.”

“Yeah, nah,” Chris reached for some water in response.

“Why not?”

“I’m not about to confess to someone that I enjoy the idea of defiling the fuck out of them when I’ll never see them again, okay? I need some aspects of my life to remain private.” 

“Defiling the fuck out of them, huh? Interesting,” you started drawing circles on the rim of your glass and tilted your head, “And what does that defiling entail exactly?”

The way you were looking at him, your posture, your voice… You were just so seductive that it was messing with his head, and he could feel how he was getting more defenseless by the second. He took a deep breath before answering and tried to pass it as an aloof comment.

“For example, I love it when my partner wears makeup.”

“How is that defiling them?”

“So that I can ruin it for myself.”

You throbbed so hard between your legs. Your expression must have visibly changed, too, since Chris seemed to have found a little more courage to elaborate.

“Your lipstick all over my cock. Your mascara running because of how much I’m making you sweat. That’s the dream,” he sipped on his drink while eating you alive with his eyes, “Am I wrong to assume you also like being watched in secret?”

“I like it when a partner watches me, not some random stranger. There’s a difference.”

“I wasn’t your partner, though.”

A sinister smile appeared on his lips, and you reciprocated it. Yes, he wasn’t a partner—you didn’t have sex on a technicality, but he wasn’t a random stranger, either. He was this magnificent thing that was haunting your dreams, and it was becoming impossible to resist his magnetism, not that you wanted to in the first place.

“Do you want to be?”

Chris just licked his lips in response while checking you out from head to toe. His mind was crawling with everything he wanted to do to you and good fucking god just why did you have to look like that?

“I enjoyed watching you,” he finally answered, “Maybe a bit too much.”

“Did you like what you saw?”

“Who doesn’t like custom porn? You look incredible when you cum,” his eyes slowly darted to your chest, “But you turn into a fucking goddess when you say my name.”

“Duly noted, Christopher,” you emphatically replied and finished your drink, “Enough about me. Time to spill.”

“Spill what?”

“What do your demons do when no one’s looking?”

Well, it was fair trade. You had answered all his questions quite satisfactorily thus far, so he could answer a couple for you in return.

“They tempt me to speed in the wrong lane.”

“Yeah? How’s that working out for you?”

“Okay, I guess,” he responded, seemingly indifferent, “Not everyone has the willingness to drive that fast, though.”

Maybe he had earned his trust issues, you wouldn’t know, but Chris was still not giving you straightforward answers. You wondered what it would take for him to confide in you.

“One of my hobbies is trying to get out of speeding tickets, just FYI.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it with me,” he warned, “I don’t stop when the motion sickness hits.”

“Do I look like a carpool rider to you?”

“No, but I’m not sure if you’ve driven a Porsche before. That ain’t the same thing as a Prius, you know.”

“No one’s ever offered to take me on a ride in a Porsche, but I did ride an eighteen-wheeler all by myself once. Does this answer your question?”

The more you talked, the more he was getting turned on—to such an extent that he was on the brink of risking it all. His breath hitched in his throat when he felt your foot on his, slowly sliding up his leg. 

You fucking know I can’t dick you down right here right now so you’re doing it on purpose, aren’t you? You’re a fucking demon.

“You don’t understand,” he closed his eyes to practice self-restraint, “I will want to hurt you every once in a while.”

“Context is everything,” you reached for his glass and stole a sip, “Is it to cause me actual discomfort or is there an underlying pleasure-related reason?”

“Like, I have a thing for biting.”

“What about it gets you going so much?”

“I don’t know. It’s like a temporary tattoo,” he explained further, “I like leaving traces on someone’s body.”

“So it’s not that you want to hurt me, but you want to mark me,” you corrected him to reassure him, “It’s not as scandalous as you think.”

You suddenly remembered your dreams. Not that it was any reflection of reality, but if there was an opportunity to fact-check, it was this.

“Neither is being into discipline, by the way.”

Chris heard that one word, and his lips involuntarily parted. Why? Why would you say that? Why would you even fucking mention that when it was his goddamn kryptonite?!

“So you want to pull my hair or spank me when I allegedly don’t listen to you. You can,” you casually informed him, “Choking is also not off the table in case you were wondering.”

He almost malfunctioned. He quite literally couldn’t have been any more seduced than this, and it was driving him crazy how nonchalant you were being.

“How do you even know you can trust me?” he finally asked the question he had been holding on to.

“I don’t,” you replied with no hesitation, “I’m just choosing to.”

“That’s one hell of a risk to take, don’t you reckon?”

“Where’s the fun if you’re not willing to take risks every once in a while?” you leaned back into your chair, “And if you’re a maniac, I’ll just press charges and sue your ass if I survive your murder attempt.”

He liked your dark humor. He loved it actually. You saw the first genuine smile he flashed ever since you met him, and it made your heart flutter.

“Anything for dessert, sir?”

Chris looked at you to give the waiter your order if you had any, and the opportunity had basically fallen in your lap.

“Do you have Boston Cream Pie on your menu by any chance?”

“Unfortunately no, miss, but we can have it prepared right away.”

“Pity. That’s my absolute favorite,” you responded looking directly at Chris, then warmly smiled at your waiter, “Let’s not burden the chef. Thank you very much.”

“Well, I will burden the chef,” Chris intervened, “We would like two of his famous figs to go, please. Slow baked with saffron glaze.”

“Right away, sir.”

The man left after refreshing your water glasses. All of a sudden, the bubble encapsulating your table started pulsating with faint buzzes of electricity. Chris would not look away from you as though trying to decode a century-long mystery in your eyes, and his smile was anything but tame.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice what you’ve been up to with your eccentric food choices all night,” you finally called him out.

“What am I up to?”

“You’re trying to get into my pants.”

“So perceptive,” he quipped, “I think it’s safe to say I’ll emerge victorious, though.”

“Arrogant much?”

“Are you denying how much you want to jump me right now?” 

You didn’t answer, but you couldn’t help the smile smeared on your lips, either. Chris, on the other hand, was thinking about how beautiful you looked every time you smiled at him like that.

“You really like Boston Cream Pie that much?”

You took a graceful sip from your glass, making sure to leave a moist print on the rim, then answered him with a straight face.

“I don’t eat anything else,” you licked the droplets off your lips, “That’s the staple food of a breeding enthusiast.”

“A breeding enthusiast, huh?” he feigned surprise, “What a coincidence that I never carry condoms on me.”

“You’re not scared we might have an accident?”

“Breeding enthusiasts are all talk no play. If I look into your purse, I bet my ass I’ll find your birth control pills.”

You burst out laughing, and it was so contagious that he joined in. His dimples… Oh, god, his dimples needed to come with a heart attack warning.

“Touché.”

“The presidential suite has one hell of a kitchen here,” he provided an unsolicited fact, “We can make the pie you’re craving so bad if you like.”

“Aren’t you the gentleman for offering?”

He reached into his blazer and flashed a keycard between two of his fingers. 

“Spend the night with me.”

You already knew where this was going, but it still started a riot in the pit of your stomach when he said it with so much intention. If you so much as slipped for one second, you were actually going to jump him right at that table.

“So you’re not asking, but you’re telling me to,” you quipped with an annoying grin.

“Yet you’re still not saying no.”

How could you? How could anyone for that matter? Who the fuck possessed the unmatched willpower and nerves of steel to say no to this glorious creature?

“I’d love to,” you finally gave him the answer he had been waiting for.

This was strictly sex in a neutral zone. In neither’s room. You covered your bases as you were headed to what was going to be a messy crime scene soon enough.

“What are your hard no’s?” Chris asked in the elevator, “Anywhere you don’t like being touched?”

“Just go with the flow, but the only bodily fluids I’m willing to exchange are cum, saliva, sweat, and occasional tears. You can do the math for the rest.” 

“You okay with me being rough with you?”

“It’s fine. If I’m ever uncomfortable, I’ll tap you on the shoulder three times to pace it down,” you informed him as you walked out, “Your dealbreakers?”

“Anything goes as long as you know whatever we do is just play. I won’t literally mean anything I say,” he fished for the keycard in his blazer, “And I don’t cuddle. When we’re done here, we’ll go back to our rooms.”

“Fair enough.”

The door clicked open with the swipe of the card, and the moment you stepped inside you could feel there was something pulsating in the air. The anticipation had built up so much that it wouldn’t be completely in the realm of impossible if you came the second he touched you. You took a minute to take in the night view through the panoramic window the bed was facing, trying to calm your nerves as much as you could.

Because this wasn’t just sex. This was sex with Chris.

“Are you absolutely sure about this?” he wanted to confirm one last time, “I won’t ask again.”

You turned around to face him upon hearing his voice. Still unsure. Still somewhat hesitant. Still waiting for you to say no for some reason.

“I’m a big girl who knows what she wants, Chris,” you started walking towards him in front of the bed, “Are you sure you want this?”

“Yes,” he replied with a total lack of pause.

“Then let’s see if you can really rewire my brain,” you threw your arms around his neck, “Before I rewire yours.”

You closed the distance between you until there was barely any air passing between you and whispered against his lips.

“Defile me.”

“Don’t say that if you don’t mean it. Don’t throw that word around lightly,” he urged in panic and closed his eyes, “If I start, I will not stop.”

“Look at me.”

He was breathing heavily, trying to compose himself very much in vain. How would that ever be possible when you were that close to him? When your scent filled his nostrils to the brim? When he could practically taste you?

“From this moment on you own my body,” you held his chin. 

Chris was on the brink of going fucking insane. You touched his face, hellfire in your eyes screaming at him how serious you were. Then your lips slowly made their way into his ear. 

“But in return, I own yours.”

The tension building up between you for weeks exploded so fucking hard that it left not a single shred of sanity behind. In one-tenth of a second, you felt his grip on your nape pulling you in for a kiss. That couldn’t even be described as a kiss; he was practically inhaling you whole. You had never had such full lips invading yours before, and it felt a million times better than your dreams. Much hotter. Much wetter. He tasted like a lust reduction—the remnants of chocolate from the drink you shared mixed with his natural flavor so dense on your tongue that it was invading all your tastebuds. You grabbed the collar of his blazer and dragged him on top of you on the bed.

“Don’t you wanna know what’s been happening to your underwear?” he took a short breather from devouring you.

“I have an inkling.” 

“Yeah? How so?”

“I’d do the same if I had yours,” you bit into his lips, “You’re jerking off on them thinking about how much you want to defile me, aren’t you?”

You were just too good to be true. Chris was still trying not to go full berserk on you, but this was your fault for relentlessly seducing him the whole night. He was already marking hickeys all over your neck, then drawing a wet trail towards your chest. His hands peeled your shirt off you as you got rid of his top, both pieces of fabric getting almost ripped to shreds in the meantime, and he almost had a stroke finally seeing your bare chest in the flesh.

“Gorgeous,” he wiped his thumbs on your hardened nipples, drooling at the sight of them, “You’re fucking gorgeous. Fuck!”

It wasn’t even anything that extraordinary. Just him, topless, towering over your body on his knees as he was unbuckling his belt, but you could literally feel your loins burning. There could simply be nobody with a figure as mouthwatering as Chris’, and you were in complete disbelief that it belonged to you tonight. He took off your jeans, and there you were, only covered in a piece of black garment under him.

“That’s too fucking sexy,” he brushed his fingers along the waistband of the lace, “Did you expect to get fucked tonight?”

“People don’t only wear sexy lingerie when they want to get laid, you know.”

“You’re saying I played no part in your choice?”

“No.”

“I love the way you lie to me, beautiful.”

Beautiful.

The word kept echoing inside your head until it was the only thing you could register. You shamelessly grinned at him, and he reflected it back to you twofold. Feeling his body weight on you pushed you to an even more crazed state when he leaned in to steal a couple of more kisses from you. They were getting deeper and a tinge more unhinged with each swirl of his tongue around yours.

“Touch,” he eventually guided your hand over his boxers.

That second you reached for him felt like it dragged on for minutes. You’d been dying to know what he felt like for weeks now, and now you had full permission to scratch the itch that wasn’t leaving you alone even in your dreams. Closer. Closer. Much closer until you finally finally established skin-to-skin contact when you slipped your hand inside.

“Holy shit!” you inadvertently exclaimed when you felt his size in your palm.

“Too big for you to take?” he contently smirked at your reaction.

“Geez, are you one of those that need to hear how big they are to function properly?” you scoffed, “Be humble. Don’t ruin it.”

“Why? Doesn’t it get to your head when you hear what a perfect ass you have?” he dragged your bottom lip down with his thumb, then proceeded to fondle your breasts, “Don’t you like hearing you can kill a man with these?”

How the fuck did he know?!

He was literally airing the dirtiest laundry you had tucked away in some dark corner of your subconscious as if he was a permanent resident there all this time. Well, he actually was considering how much you’d been thinking about him, but still… Still…

“Kill a man, huh?” you put your hands on his and squeezed them, “Suck on them hard enough, maybe you can taste something else.”

You’d just said that to see whether there was any truth to it at all. To confirm whether the intense movies you watched when you were knocked out were based on true stories.

And judging by how hard Chris throbbed with that loud exhale, it seemed— It seemed like…

He lowered himself on your body, and you felt the warm wetness of his tongue swiping across the pebbled skin, teasing it, sucking on it, gently grazing his teeth on it as he would do while making out with you, hyperfocused on reconnecting the nerve endings on your nipples straight to your clit. You closed your eyes, and your fingers slithered in his hair, caressing him, thinking about how hard he would snap if you pulled on it right then and there.

“Just say it once,” he climbed the moist path he paved up your neck and sucked on your earlobe while breathily whispering, “It wouldn’t kill you to stroke my ego a little bit.”

“Your ego,” you sarcastically giggled, “Is that the name you gave to your cock?”

You felt the vibrations of his chuckle reverberate throughout your entire body, and it was just so pleasant to listen to. Chris wasn’t even fishing for praise; he was literally asking for it. 

Had you been seeing fucking premonitions all this time by any chance?

“No, it’s not too big for me to take,” you looked into his eyes, then ran your hands down his back from his shoulders, “But it is mouth-watering to think how much I’ll struggle when you stretch me.”

“You leave that to me. Just worry about creaming all over it, beautiful,” he started caressing your pussy with two of his fingers, “Give yourself to me now. Completely. All of you.”

Chris had been arousing you so fucking much the entire night that you had actually soaked through the layer of fabric. Getting you this wet barely doing anything was inflating his ego more than anything, and although he had promised himself to take it slow, he knew how miserably he was going to fail when he licked his fingers to get one taste of you.

He hooked his fingers behind your underwear and slid it down at a pace so slow, but that wasn’t to tease you. He was trying to mentally brace himself for impact for he didn’t know how hard he could snap when he was finally face to face with your drenched cunt. You tugged on his waistband to signal him to take it off for you, and while you were completely unaware of his internal clash, you were the one that almost shoved him into the mattress when you caught a glimpse of how much he was leaking because of you. His veins so traceable on his massive girth forced your salivary glands to start working over capacity.

You didn’t even need to tell him how big he was anymore. Watching you drool at his sight was everything Chris could ask for at that moment.

He descended between your legs, and the warmth of his large hands transferred from his palms to the supple skin of your thighs, spreading all over your body at a concerning speed. You could feel his breath on your pussy, but he just wouldn’t make a move. Just admiring your slick folds with a lovesick stare, gently stroking your labia while sinking his teeth into his lips, and refusing to touch anywhere that had the slightest trace of moisture on it. It was embarrassing how frequently you were pulsating right in front of his face, but a part of you stopped giving a fuck.

“You’re going to stop bringing toys at work, otherwise I swear to fucking god,” he uttered in a maximally intimidating tone while shooting daggers at you with his eyes, “You’re either cumming in my mouth, or you’re not cumming at all. Is that clear?”

“Why? Does it hurt your pride, Christopher?”

“Don’t talk back to me,” he sank his fingertips into your thighs, causing you to hiss at the delicious sizzle, “Don’t force me to condition you to do as I say.”

“I’d love to see what that looks like.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t recommend it at all,” he shot you a perverse smile, then finally…

Finally…

“God, FUCK!”

He sent a violent shockwave down your spine when he latched those luscious lips to your clit, and you jolted hard in your place. Chris buried his face into you, kissing your slick folds like he had been touch starved all his life, sucking on your clit like you were secreting the elixir of life, and licking into your throbbing hole to prepare you for when he would wear you like a tight sleeve around him. The obscenely wet sounds he was making while brazenly smacking his lips on your dripping pussy forced you to cave way earlier than you thought you could endure.

“Just… Fuck— More,” you clawed at his shoulders, “Finger me. Please.”

“No. Nothing’s going in there before my cock,” he breathily spoke against your slit, causing you to writhe in frustration, “Why don’t you tell me all your intrusive thoughts about me instead? I like having something in the background when I’m eating.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t recommend it at all,” you reflected his earlier remark back at him, but it didn’t faze Chris one bit.

“Just so you know, there’s nothing hotter than listening to someone’s messed up fantasies about me. Especially when they turn me on this fucking much,” he licked a long stripe from your entrance to your clit, “Do it, or I’ll frustrate you until you sob.”

You were in no headspace to properly censor yourself. The buzz of the drinks you’d been downing all night combined with your extreme arousal levels hacked its way through all your defenses and disarmed it. You closed your eyes and allowed Chris to force you to narrate your fantasies at tongue point.

“I want to crawl into your bed when you’re sleeping,” you started describing the images behind your eyelids, “Suck you off to get you hard for myself first. I’ll be careful not to wake you up, but honestly? I don’t give a shit if you do. I’m sitting on you no matter what.”

Chris contently sighed into you, and satisfied with the picture you were painting him, he started swirling his tongue around your clit again with nowhere near enough pressure.

“I’ll ride you until I cum all over you. If you can manage to cum somehow, great, but I’m not exerting any effort to get you to blow. I just wanna use you to get off, then bounce.”

You felt his soundwaves inside you when he softly chuckled. You knew you were on the right path when he paired his licks with sucks on your clit.

“I want you to be so violently obsessed with me that I want to manifest in your dreams every fucking night. I want you to throw hysterical jealousy fits when someone breathes in my general direction,” you started rolling your hips into his face, “I want to haunt your every waking thought. I want you to be fucking restless whenever you’re not fucking me.”

Chris was for sure going insane now. Nothing could be as animalistically erotic as listening to the worst ways you wanted him directly from you, and he could legitimately cum just to your voice rendered in that desperate and eager tone. Nevertheless, he needed to pace himself to stop you and himself from prematurely cumming because he was nowhere near done with you.

“Let me take you out one night when we go back. You’ll get all dolled up for me. We’ll have a good time,” he placed a kiss on your mound, then looked directly into your eyes, “Until you start flirting with people right in my face just to piss me off.”

Oh, Chris was such a quick study. He didn’t waste any time to put what he learned into good use, and just with his opening statements alone, you were willing to give him five stars already.

“I’m not gonna kiss you. I’m not even gonna touch you. I’ll just keep whispering the nastiest things in your ear the whole night and drive you crazy,” he kept drawing the laziest circles around your clit with his thumb, “You’ll beg me to fuck you, but you should have been careful what you wished for. When we get home, I’m fucking you until you can moan nothing but sorry. You fucking know you’re not allowed to look at anyone else but me. You brought this on yourself.”

“And you think that’s punishing me?” you chuckled, insisting on producing snarky remarks even in that disheveled state.

“Oh, no, baby girl. Your punishment is crying in my bed all night. You’re gonna beg me to stop eating your pussy for how much you can’t take it anymore,” he collected as much of his saliva as he could and let it drip down your clit, “Keep crying then because I’m making you cum until you fall in love with me all over again.”

“God, fucking bite me!”

Chris took a juicy bite from your thighs, then started stroking himself to full hardness while diving into your cunt headfirst. His rhythm on your clit got much more fervent, and your moans were climbing to a higher pitch, becoming much more frequent with each lick. You were close. You were about to give him what he was craving for the longest time, but not in the way he wanted.

He stopped.

You let out such a frustrated whimper that it was music to his ears. He wiped his mouth clean, then got on his knees to align his length with you. He was giving you the signal—that he was about to satisfy the raging curiosity for the both of you. Of what it felt like being inside you. Of what it felt like having you tightly wrapped around him.

“No protection?” you feigned obliviousness when he made no attempt for it.

“What protection? How else am I gonna be able to knock you up?” he pressed his flushed tip against your entrance, “Why do you think I kept feeding you oysters all night long, baby girl?”

Chris was barely in as it was, but his insinuation made you clench so hard that you inadvertently squeezed him out of you, which he didn’t like at all.

“Shh, behave,” he shot you a firm look, “Be grateful I’m not shoving myself into you. I’m being nice here.”

His girth was so deliciously thick that a part of you wanted to feel that sudden stretch, but another part of you was enjoying the way he was slowly paving his into you with shallow thrusts, grazing against every single inch of your walls and molding you into a perfect sleeve for himself. 

“Say it to my face. Say what you were moaning about me to my face now,” he spoke, mere millimeters away from hitting a dead end inside you, “How it wasn’t enough. That you need me.”

Your hands reached to grab his nape, and you pulled him close so that he was right in your face when you spat the words.

“You fucking know what you’re doing to me when you tease me, don’t you? I can’t fucking stand you. Nothing will ever be enough until you fuck my sanity out of me, that’s how much I need you,” you squeezed his jawline from both ends with a single hand, “Now you know how much I mean it when I say defile me.”

Your words caused such acute onset ferality inside him that Chris rammed himself inside you at the exact moment his lips clashed with yours, causing your moans to spill in his mouth. Full. That was the only sensation you could process. Just full. He was conquering you inch by inch, claiming all the space you had to offer him for himself with every push. 

“Pull my hair.”

You held his locks drenched in sweat in a tight grip and tugged on them, but it wasn’t enough. When you looked like that, felt like that, sounded like that it could never be enough.

“Harder, baby girl,” he pleaded through his labored breathing, “Make it hurt.”

Upon his request, you yanked it back so hard that his neck was exposed to you in its full glory.

“Oh, FUCK yeah!”

You could feel the signs of trust building more and more between you, but it felt more like soul bonding. Even when you allegedly hurt each other, it was dosed accordingly to inflict just enough pain that wouldn’t cross the threshold of pleasure.

You wondered whether there were any matches that were forged in hell once every full moon.

You sneakily wrapped your legs around his waist and waited for a moment to catch him off guard, then rolled him over to trap him under you.

“Let’s go on a ride, shall we?”

You pulled him out of you and nestled between his legs as Chris rested his tattoo-ridden arms under his nape, just watching you wrap your mouth around his drenched cock with his lips apart. You shamelessly showed him what you were capable of first, carefully taking all of him down your throat without even gagging, making his eyes roll back with a guttural moan. Your saliva was dripping from the corners of your lips every time he throbbed in your mouth. When his breathing finally started to escalate again, you stopped.

Now it was your turn to have your fun.

You worshipped his entire crotch first, leaving lewd wet kisses all over him to get him to twitch for you. His inner thighs, his blunt tip, his engorged length, his shaft, his balls… All soaked with you through and through. You licked the white trails you left on him clean with torturously slow movements, then admired how his veins bulged when you lazily stroked his cock. You knew he wanted much more than this, but Chris didn’t even try to lead you and just basked in the ecstasy overdose you were pumping into his veins. He kept quietly hissing and moaning throughout the whole thing, but when you started making your way further down his balls, his excitement suddenly peaked. 

And the moment your tongue connected to his entrance, he moaned so loudly that you knew you had him in a chokehold.

You held his girth in a somewhat gentle grip and kept caressing him as your tongue carefully explored him. Deep enough to rip his soul apart but still shallow not to disturb his comfort. Chris couldn’t even talk. All he could do was let out euphoric moans and tangle his fingers in your hair to watch exactly how you were ascending him.

He was simply possessed by you.

“Say you’re mine,” you spoke against his skin, “Say it, or else I’m never letting you cum.”

“God, you fucking own me,” he throbbed hard under your touch, “All of me. It’s yours.”

Content with the response you received, you started stroking him faster and getting him even wetter in your mouth. The sudden change felt so overwhelming that Chris wasn’t going to be able to take it much longer.

“Fucking— Don’t!!!” he abruptly stopped you and sat up in one go, “On fours. Bend over.”

You promptly fulfilled his request and first felt a wet kiss on your nape, then his hands on your ass.

“Face down. Arch it. All the way up,” he landed a delicious smack on your hips, “Both hands on your back for me.”

His tip was pressing against your entrance again, giving you such short notice of what was about to go down. Hands pinning your wrists on your lower back, Chris bottomed out with one sharp thrust, eliciting that high-pitched moan he developed a quick addiction to from your throat again. His lips never left your neck as he kept relentlessly fucking your wits out of you. 

“It’s only right if I mark my territory, huh baby girl?” he uttered with a maniacal chuckle as drops of his sweat started pooling on your back, “I’ll fill you up so much it’s going to fucking gush out of you.”

The ownership was about to drive you irrevocably insane. He was hitting a spot so deep inside you that you were seeing white, and whatever Chris told you to do at that moment, you would do it no questions asked.

“Harder,” you squeezed him as tight as you could inside you, “Fuck me harder!”

“Will you moan like that for me when I ruin your ass?” he released your arms and slammed his hands on your hips, “Will you tell me to fuck you harder then, too?”

“So fucking cocky. No one cums from anal, Christopher,” you derided as annoyingly as you could just to piss him off. 

“Aww, you can’t? It’s okay baby girl, we’ll fix that for you,” he tangled his hands in your hair again, “Who do you belong to? Tell me.”

“You.”

“Say it,” he pulled on it to get his message across, “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.”

“I’m yours, Christopher.”

Again. Just like your dream. That just could not be a coincidence at this point.

“Say it!” he urged you once again upon your lack of response.

“I’m– I’m yours, Christopher.”

“Yes, you are,” he placed a sloppy kiss on your back, “You’re mine. Only mine.”

He stopped his ministrations and swiftly turned you around, hurriedly shoving himself inside you again as if he would die if you weren’t wrapped around him.

“Look into my eyes,” he touched your face with an odd amount of compassion that didn’t quite belong to the scene, “I will not pull out, you hear me?”

“Are you expecting me to beg you no?” you started laughing hysterically, “If you knock me up, everyone’s going to hear about it.”

“Oh, I don’t think so, baby girl. You want this to be our dirty little secret as much as I do.”

You locked your legs around his waist so that he actually couldn’t pull out. You pulled him in for a sloppy kiss, and the way you played with his tongue combined with how hard you were clenching around him made him spill inside you with throaty moans quite soon. You allowed him some time to catch his breath, and once he was able to come down from his high, he carefully pulled out of you.

“Watch it drip,” you spread your legs wider, “Watch the mess you made.”

Chris broke into an extremely satisfied smile tracing the thick, white liquid with his eyes, and quickly found himself wrapping his arms around your thighs again.

“There’s my Boston Cream Pie.”

He messily slurped on your entrance to get a taste of the concoction you created together, then latched himself to your clit. You were on the very brink of the ledge anyway, so it didn’t even take ten sucks for you to arch into his mouth. But was that enough for Chris?

What a redundant fucking question.

Your legs still shaking out of control, you attempted to stop him, but he just didn’t give a fuck and carried on with his delectable overstimulation. He finally gave you what you wanted, although a bit too late, and fucked his cum back inside you with his fingers, tongue still at war with your swollen clit.

“Don’t even try to squirt it out. It’s staying inside until it holds and that’s it.”

He was saying one thing but doing another. He told you not to squirt it out, yet once his fingers discovered the self-destruct button inside you, he ruthlessly teased it until he got you pouring inside his mouth. Barely having any of your mental faculties intact, you weren’t able to talk at all, so you mustered whatever strength you could to tap his shoulder three times. Otherwise, you were simply going to combust.

Deep into the late AM hours, you were both floating in bliss. This was by far the most mindblowing sex of your life. As for Chris… 

Except for his regular appointments, this was the first time he didn’t have a mask on when he got in bed with someone, and he was simply dumbfounded at how the fuck he was able to cross paths with a person who was on an uncannily similar wavelength with him. 

Just how were you even real?

After taking quick showers, you left this fever dream behind and headed to your separate rooms.

“Had fun?” 

“So much,” Chris answered, his eyes intently on the carpet covered floor, “Too much, actually.”

“Likewise,” you smiled at him and swiped the keycard on your door, “Good night, Chris.”

“Listen, would you—?”

You turned to your left with one hand still on the door handle, brows raised, waiting for him to complete his sentence.

“...wanna repeat this? On a regular basis, I mean.”

“You wanna be fuck buddies?” you contorted your face in surprise.

“I don’t fancy that term, but something of the sort,” he leaned against his own doorframe, “This kind of compatibility is pretty rare to come by. I thought I’d shoot my shot.” 

The heck?

Never in a gazillion years would you guess the hotshot chef, who was simultaneously your boss and the lead star of your X-rated thoughts, would ask for an arrangement of this sort with you. It caught you so off guard that you didn’t know how to respond to him at first, yet he took your silence for something else.

“Only if you want, of course. If not, we’re never going to speak of this again.”

“On one condition,” you promptly replied when your wits finally clicked back into their sockets.

“Listening?”

“I want free use,” you crossed your arms over your chest, “Whenever I want to fuck you, you say yes to me.”

Chris was prepared for several different kinds of no’s, maybe one uneventful yes, but you straight up asking for fucking free use?

In his most creative lucid dreams maybe.

“And when I want to fuck you?” he nonchalantly asked as if he wasn’t dying of excitement inside.

“I say yes to you.”

“Whenever I mean.”

“Of course,” you shrugged, “Just don’t expect me to come to your place in the middle of the night when the craving hits. Then I don’t come to you, you come to me. If you can bring your ass to my place, I’m yours.”

You were the one with the blaring possessiveness kink, yet the second you said I’m yours, Chris felt something shooting all the way up to his brain, and the pronoun kept echoing inside his head.

Mine.

Mine.

Mine.

“But what if I want to do things to you that might scare you?” he asked somewhat scared but still keeping perfect composure on the outside.

“What did I tell you earlier tonight? Just talk to me,” you took a couple of steps towards him, “I can’t promise to say yes to everything you want, nor can I expect you to do the same, but we’ll discuss it.”

You didn’t know where that excess confidence came from all of a sudden, but you watched yourself stealing a kiss from his plush lips as if you had gone out of your own body. It was the tamest thing you had exchanged the entire night, yet ironically enough, it was also the most exhilarating one.

“I might want some things that might scare you, too,” you spoke against his lips.

Chris couldn’t open his eyes for some time and relished the aftershocks of the kiss he wasn’t expecting at all, eventually breaking into a faint smile. When he finally met your gaze again, you could see glints of eagerness flashing brightly in those deep brown eyes of his.

“Deal.”

「© 2023, exxxtraoddinary · No translations, rewrites, or reposts permitted」

✉ Enjoyed this? It would be cool of you to reblog so that my work can reach more people.

THE WOLF KING - A BANG CHAN SERIES

Pairing: Bang Chan x Afab! Reader

Theme: Fluff, Smut, Angst, Fantasy AU, Werewolf!Chan, MDNI

Word Count:

Summary: Long before you were born the war between the kingdoms of humans and supernatural creatures began. No one ever knew the true cause of it, but humans were forbidden to ever enter the woods that bordered their lands. But you were never one to follow laws, you had always felt drawn to the beauty of the woods and never have you once felt in danger there. One day you come across a large black wolf watching you in the distance. It never approached you, but it watched you as you would lay against a tree in the sunlight and read your favorite books. From that moment on you would always see it, watching you. You felt as if it was protecting you. You would smile at it and never dare go near it. Little did you know, that the wolf who watched you carefully, was not just any wolf, but also a man, the man they called the wolf king.

Preview: "From the moment I first saw you in those woods, I knew you were meant to be mine."

A/N: Please do not repost or translate my work! Let me know if you wish to be on the tagged list.

THE MASTERLIST:

~ THE PROLOGUE ~ CHAPTER ONE: MY LITTLE PUP ~ CHAPTER TWO: BATHED IN MOONLIGHT ~ CHAPTER THREE: OUR LUNA ~ CHAPTER FOUR: WRITTEN IN THE STARS ~ CHAPTER FIVE: HONEY AND ROSES ~ CHAPTER SIX: WOLFSBANE ASH ~ CHAPTER SEVEN: OURS ~ CHAPTER EIGHT: UGLY DUCKLING

~ CHAPTER NINE: MINE TO LOVE

「𝚞𝚗𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕」 · scene v

❝𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐.❞

WC: 8.2k (35 min. avg. reading time)

⚠ — Self-worth/intimacy issues, sexual tension, body worshipping, oral sex (m, f) penetrative unprotected sex, creampie (see masterlist for more).

★ No longer accepting tag requests. Please turn on notifications if you wish to be updated || @jetblackbelle @biribarabiribbaem @cutiespaghetti @inniescandy-01 @straywrds @chlodavids @kileidoscope @seosalad @idkluvutellme @tenshimara @skzworldx @svintsandghosts @hazyspirts @dramaticnobody @vixensss @miin17 @drhsthl @obeythemasters @fairy-jojo @frozenpeasworld @chans1aptop @guiltycoco @starsandrqindrops @nyasstars @stayconnecteed @shiningnono @auslngaq

※ This work of fiction is intended for 18+ audiences only.

It had been a while since you and Chris worked on a project together, and especially after the night you filmed him, it was kind of helping your mentality to not see him in a… work context. You were able to delude yourself into thinking he was just an actor doing his thing out there, and you were doing just fine ignoring all reality by playing dodgeball with the conversation you needed to have with yourself.

What conversation? There’s nothing to have a conversation about.

You may not have been working together, but it didn’t really make much difference because Chris kept running into you very much on purpose. Appearing at your sets every once in a because he was allegedly bored, dropping by your office for the fuck of it, randomly asking what you were craving right then and bringing that or the closest thing he could find packed as a lunch for two to eat with you… 

All of which would have been perfectly fine if the magnitude of your crush on Chris wasn’t currently about two galaxies wide.

It was obviously flirting galore whenever you saw each other, but you started noticing another side of him that you hadn’t previously experienced.

Underneath all those layers of cockiness, the man was actually a premium-quality dork.

His smugness towards you had mostly dissolved by then. He was indeed more lovable than a Tasmanian devil, and he felt free to be infinitely silly, but only when he was alone with you. You had no idea what prompted the exclusive access privileges to this much softer side of him, but as a horrible side effect, it was fueling your possessiveness over Chris, which completely clouded your professional judgement.

Especially when Alexis was in question.

One day when you were feeling particularly annoyed by her cunt behavior, you straight up decided to forget to tell her about a filming location change. Out of pure pettiness. But when you came to your senses shortly after, you were actually quite ashamed of yourself.

“Just what the fuck am I doing?”

Yes, Chris was exhibiting some signs of vulnerability, but it didn’t necessarily… mean anything. He wasn’t… putting the moves on you per se. Why would he anyway? It was just his brazen self, and he was just feeling comfortable around you.

Comfortable enough to masturbate right next to you?

He is a porn performer.

That wanted you right next to him.

That happens on set every day.

He has sex with you a lot in his head.

I’m just a face. Everybody fantasizes.

Then why did he cum that hard when you said you loved him?

This needed to stop. You urgently needed to save your ass before you fell any deeper into the quicksand because you were running out of ways to refute yourself.

“Guess what I have for you right here,” Jisung knocked on your office door.

“Looks like a script, smells like a script, so I’m gonna say… a script.”

“Correct!” he put the file he was holding on your desk, “The writer specifically requests you to direct this.”

“Are you fucking SERIOUS?!” you screamed, slamming your hands on the table. Jisung burst into one of his heartfelt laughters at your extreme reaction.

Unless you were hired as a director in the first place, the rite of passage to directorship was literally quantified at Petite Mort. You had to have produced a certain number of minutes for projects that required cinematography work much like a pilot trying to obtain a license.

“I– I don’t know what to say! I wasn’t even aware I hit my numbers,” you stood up and bowed to Jisung as hyperbolically as you could manage, “I humbly thank the scriptwriter for the opportunity.” 

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate the gratitude in person because it’s not me,” Jisung informed you with a knowing smile, “You actually haven’t filled your quota yet. Anita was very impressed by the script, so she made an exception and agreed to the writer’s terms.”

“Then who is it?”

“Look inside.”

You grabbed the folder and turned to the first page, and there it was, right under the title.

Rébellion Romantique —C. B.

“No… no way,” your voice came out very tiny as you looked at Jisung.

“Yes way, indeed. Apparently, everyone’s favorite Aussie has one hell of a pen.”

Your heart fell to your stomach in the best sense of the expression possible. You had no idea he had started writing again. Not only did he start and finish a script, but he also wanted you to direct this?

Your eyes darted to the synopsis right under the title.

After divorcing her husband and finally getting out of the cage of lovelessness, Tina embarks on a journey to rewrite everything she knows about desire and pleasure. Throughout her encounters with all kinds of people, she eventually discovers what love truly means to her. A tribute to the female gaze, human pleasure, and everything left unspoken.

This was supposed to be a script for porn. Fucking porn. Then why were you overcome with this urge to cry all of a sudden?

Oh, you loved this. You absolutely adored this.

“I’ll be your producer for what looks like our flagship production,” Jisung spoke with an utterly endeared look on his face, “Do you have some time to discuss casting?”

Why, yes, maybe your schedule was completely free for the foreseeable future to discuss everything about this project.

Chris had penned such an intricate scenario that the cast was going to be the most crowded one to date because it even included an orgy midway through the story. It automatically meant you had to swallow your pettiness regarding all the decisions made about this movie and be completely professional.

You forbade yourself to treat it like it was personal. Because it wasn’t.

Nevertheless, you and Jisung both had to compromise on one singular matter— after a lot of back and forth, you agreed to keep Alexis as part of the cast, and he agreed not to give her the lead role. You both landed on Kristen instead.

“I think Hyunjin would make a better antagonist than Cole,” you pointed at the character sheet, “The dude has some sinister charms to him, don’t you think?”

“I’ll have the security ready for when Chris walks into the set maybe. They are at each other’s throats on sight,” Jisung uttered with genuine concern and then looked at you with a tinge of reservation, “Which leaves us with our main love interest. Are you sure about this?”

You took a deep breath. You were matching performers to characters for the better half of the past hour, and you just couldn’t bring yourself to place Chris anywhere. Nothing felt ‘just right’ when he was in question. A side role where he barely showed on screen wouldn’t do him justice. This could actually be his big break in the erotic cinema community. On the other hand, giving him the male lead meant that you were going to have to—

Don’t treat it like it’s personal.

You shook your head and snapped out of it.

“Yes,” you responded resolutely, “Yes, I am.”

The day of your first shoot felt like the first day of school for you. A bit of dread of the unknown, a bit of nervousness, but overall anticipation maximized. You greeted the crew and made your way towards the director’s chair, where you had an uninvited guest waiting for you.

“Chris?” you put your bag down, “What are you doing here?” 

“Well, good morning to you, too,” he brightly smiled, “Didn’t Jisung tell you I was coming? I’m here to watch you direct.”

“Talk about micromanaging,” you retorted with excessive amounts of sarcasm.

“It’s not that. I’m here to gain experience,” he sat right next to the director’s chair, “Consider me as your intern.”

“Fine, but if you’re going to hang around, I need you to be on your absolute best behavior, okay?” you picked up the copy of the script crawling with your notes on it, “Don’t make a scene.”

“We’re literally on a set, though.”

“Chris!”

“Yes, boss,” he gestured zipping his lips.

You and Jisung walked towards your performers to go over their directions one last time, then took your seats and let the games begin.

“Quiet on set,” you commanded the entire crew with a firm tone and turned to the screen in front of you, “Action!”

When you started the scene, Chris turned to his left and started observing you instead. You occupying the director’s chair was nothing short of a queen sitting on a throne. You belonged there. The way you were talking to the performers just now… It was almost like you were telling a partner what you liked and what you wanted them to do to you in a very straightforward fashion. There was literally an entire movie unfolding right in front of him, not to mention something he wrote himself, but all Chris could do was watch you be an utter professional. Your passion was a beautiful thing to witness. 

He felt… proud watching you.

Even when the scene started morphing into an extremely steamy sight, you were completely unfazed, watching the screen with sheer seriousness as if you were watching a courtroom drama. He was looking for indications that you were getting turned on, but there wasn’t one obvious physical sign. No irregular breathing, no restless wriggling, no hint of increasing body temperature.

Only your blown pupils.

Chris, on the other hand, was about to cross a dangerous threshold of arousal to the point of losing his mind a little bit because he couldn’t stop associating the scene with you. 

Because the acts he was witnessing were the very things that he wanted to do to you.

He couldn’t help it. At a moment of sudden onset incontinence, he subtly pressed his leg against yours, causing you to briefly turn in his direction, but he was seemingly watching the scene with undivided attention. Then he placed his arm on the right armrest of your chair, and his fingers brushed against yours.

Your heart started thumping in your chest all of a sudden.

The antsiness he was looking forward to seeing all along finally started to manifest itself in you. You pressed your leg against him with a tinge more pressure. His little finger started caressing yours with imperceptible movements to the naked eye. You kept stealing touches from each other throughout that whole scene, and by the end of it, you were both properly frustrated by how much you wanted each other.

However…

The reality was that there was an invisible line drawn between you that shouldn’t be crossed. You weren’t two people that crossed paths under normal circumstances.

And what was worse, Chris was community property.

“Good work today,” you hurriedly removed yourself from the set before giving Chris a chance to say something to fluster you into oblivion, “See you on Monday at 6 AM.”

Still simmering in that inhumane levels of arousal, you left the building so fast that you actually made it home in record time.

After a questionably long shower, you decided to set up your ‘ritual’ setting in your room. Balcony door open and letting a very nice breeze in, sexy as fuck melodies looped in the background and coming out of your speakers in a hushed volume, the dark amber candles dangerously reminding you of Chris lit up to set the mood, a glass of cold rosé, and a bullet vibrator. You sat down on your desk, but not to write. You were about to do some editing tonight. 

Everything was ready and in place, but when you opened the editing software, you were greeted by a warning.

Remaining time: 90 minutes. Insert your portable license or purchase one by following the link.

Then you looked at your USB hub to notice it was indeed empty.

“Oh, fucking great,” you grabbed your phone to call Jisung.

“Yo!”

“Ji, tell me you’re at the office, please.”

“Yup.”

“Do you mind checking my desk to see if I left my portable license there? It’s a little black USB. Otherwise I’m going to panic my ass off.”

“Hang on a second.”

You heard his footsteps and the sound of a door opening in your receiver, and Jisung broke the news to you.

“Yeah, it’s on your desk here.”

“Oh, thank god,” you relaxed in our chair, “Do you mind dropping it off at my place when you get out?”

“Actually, I can’t. I’m taking Anita to dinner tonight.”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

“I can’t and I WON’T!” he yelled on the other line, “But I can send Kyle to drop it off. That okay with you?”

“You’re awesome, thanks,” then you offered a piece of unsolicited advice, “And don’t forget to take tissues with you. You drool a little too hard over her.”

“You shut the fuck up and I love you.”

Relieved that you would soon have uninterrupted access, you found no harm in using the time you have left. You carefully inserted the vibrator inside you and got to work like this was a very normal course of action for creative endeavors.

You had been contemplating working on this for some time now, but you were a bit hesitant about watching it. It was the footage of Chris you filmed after the party, and now that you were actually on the director’s chair and properly riled up after that workday, you were feeling particularly… inspired.

I can always tell when you get wet because your scent gets denser. And now you’re getting wet just by looking at me across the table. 

It was true. Chris didn’t need any gimmicks or try hard to seduce people; he was a natural. He had that irresistible charm to him that rendered anyone defenseless with one look. It was worse that he knew that because he abused his powers on you for his personal entertainment way too frequently.

I don’t give a fuck if you’re driving. I won’t be able to wait until we get home.

Why was it that when he said the most brazen things at the most random places it was an immediate turn on? What the fuck kind of wizardry was that his shamelessness was bringing out the worst in you, the very things that you were suppressing to masquerade as a normally functioning human being?

I have you right where I want you, and you’re melting.

You hated how true it was. You weren’t a person with weak willpower per se, but when it came to Chris, you always found yourself justifying why you were letting him charm you so. You hated how much you enjoyed this. You despised how it made your ego violently cum every time he insinuated he wanted you.

Everyone who drives by knows what we’re doing, but we don’t give a fuck. We just want each other. They’re watching us. They wish they were us. 

Ever since the very first time you met him, at the very back burner of your imagination, you had always wondered about it. You wondered what it was like to fuck him. You wondered what it was like to have him pleasure you. You wondered whether he was indeed capable of making you forget about what was socially acceptable and have you surrender to him at will, completely erasing everything from your consciousness besides him and the pure rapture he was inducing in you.

What a fucking fascinating underworldly creature of lust you are.

You were so submerged in your autoerotic inner monologue that your heart almost stopped when the doorbell rang.

“Jesus fucking christ!” you jumped in your seat, “Just a second!”

You gingerly removed the bullet, shoved it inside your drawer, and darted to answer the door.

“Kyle, thank you s— Chris?!”

“You asked for delivery?”

Okay, but maybe, just maybe were you in possession of manifestation powers because…

“I thought Kyle was going to come over.”

“Yeah, I may have eavesdropped on their conversation a little bit,” he grinned at you and handed you the USB, “Here.”

“Thank you so much. I’m so sorry for the trouble.”

“No worries. My services are not free, though, so you’re totally buying me drinks later,” he teased with a wink and started descending the stairs, “Good night.” 

“Actually…!”

You had started that sentence a bit too loudly for your own good, but it at least managed to turn Chris around.

“I’ve just opened a bottle of wine if you’d like to join me.”

All of a sudden, his teasing demeanor was, poof, gone. 

“I uh– I don’t mean to intrude if…”

“Well, you kinda did anyway. You know where I live now,” you stepped aside and opened the door for him to come in. He climbed three steps back up and let himself into your apartment with somewhat of a bashful smile.

As you led him to your living room, Chris examined your place as if he was in a museum. The framed posters in the hallway, the colors of your walls, the furniture you owned, the things you chose to decorate. There was a pleasant ambery scent everywhere, and it was tickling his nostrils.

When you brought his glass and sat next to him, you were hit with the realization that Chris was actually in your apartment, sitting on your sofa. You were in shorts and a gigantic t-shirt with flower-patterned flip-flops on your feet.

All of a sudden it felt way too intimate.

“You ran so fast I couldn’t even tell you how awesome you were on set today,” Chris finally spoke.

“Thank you,” you sheepishly smiled at him, “I’m not gonna pretend your presence there wasn’t pressuring, though.”

“Why is that?”

“I mean, it’s your script, hello?” you pointed at him, “That’s like getting your homework checked by your teacher.”

He laughed heartily and sat more comfortably on the couch.

“Come on, I’m just a rookie here.”

“I don’t believe in seniority when it comes to creativity,” you responded in a serious tone.

A brief silence followed as you sipped on your drinks. After contemplating for some time, you finally decided to scratch the itch at the back of your brain.

“Why did you want me to direct this? Jisung would have done a wonderful job.”

“I agree, but he’s a man,” he rested his head on his hand, “This is Tina’s story. It would be a little hypocritical not to consult to the vision of an insanely talented woman, don’t you reckon?”

You felt yourself blushing a bit too intensely and averted your eyes. It really meant a lot to you that he was thinking of you this way.

“Thank you. Really.”

“My absolute pleasure,” his dimples replied on his behalf, “Did you notice anything interesting about her?”

“Was I supposed to?”

He didn’t answer and just stared at you with a vague smile, which prompted you to review all the knowledge you had about Tina. A recent divorcée questioning a lot of things, tempted by her curiosity to find answers. She was indulging in things most people considered filth, things they would shame her for, but at the very end of the day she was only in pursuit of happiness and trying to muster the courage she had lost somewhere along the way. She was one hell of a woman this Tina Frank.

Tina Frank.

Tina.

“If you don’t mind me asking what’s Tina short for exactly?” you asked Chris with creased brows.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “Could be many things. Martina, Christina, Valentina…”

“Christina,” you emphasized, but you were actually asking him a question.

“Could you top me up, please?” he raised you his unfinished glass with a smile.

You obliged and didn’t attempt to drag the conversation on further after that, but it shifted something in you.

A tribute to the female gaze, human pleasure, and everything left unspoken.

You would bitch about his brazenness a lot, complaining that he didn’t know how to be subtle at all, but it turned out Chris could be extremely subtle when he wanted to. You were never going to be able to look at this story the same way again.

“Did you manage to find any other bomb-ass places lately?” you handed him his glass again with nonchalance, “I think we should be able to appreciate things besides hotdogs, too.”

“Wait till I tell you about the pizzeria that just opened by my apartment.”

You didn’t even realize how fast time passed for the rest of the night. Whenever you weren’t about to go crazy lusting after him, it was always very comfortable when you were with Chris, but it had never felt this cozy before. Just the two of you having a wholesome conversation accompanied with ‘Shut up’s, ‘No way’s, and a lot of laughter. At one point, he made you laugh so hard that you actually fell off the couch.

“Can I use your restroom?”

“Sure,” you wiped the tears from your eyes as your laughter died down, “It’s at the end of the hall.”

While he was coming out of the restroom, Chris noticed the soft orange light illuminating the hallway through a door ajar and the music playing inside. He knew proper guests weren’t supposed to snoop around, yet he had never been proper anything other than the resident troublemaker wherever he went. His curiosity got the best of him, and he nudged the door a bit more to peek inside. 

It was your bedroom. 

The light was coming from the candles you had lit some time ago, which were also the source of that pleasant scent. Your bed was unmade, and the clothes you were wearing earlier that day were hung behind a chair. You had a huge desk by the open balcony door, and there was a computer with two gigantic screens on it as well as a video on the preview screen of some editing software.

His pulse dangerously escalated when he realized what he was looking at.

It was the footage of him masturbating on the bed, but what he was surprised to notice was that you were also in the frame.

What he was fucking mindblown to notice was that you were fingering yourself.

He walked to the computer like he was in a trance. He rewinded the video to spot where exactly you started touching yourself to the sight of him. There you were, pulling your dress up and spreading your legs with your breasts already out. He lowered the volume and hit play.

…you taste amazing. I’m licking all over your cunt like you’ve been starving me for days. 

All his memories of you came rushing back to him again. You writing all these lengthy oral scenes but leaving the set every time he performed it on someone, how you were fucking yourself to the thought of him in his waiting room, the way he fingered you while you jerked him off, your lips on him, his lips all over you, touching you, feeling you, when you whispered I love you into his ear…

Chris was so hard under his pants that he was actually in pain.

“Is everything okay? You’ve been gone for— Oh.”

Your voice suddenly echoing in the room gave him a horrible start. He had no idea how he could properly defend himself.

“I’m– I’m really sorry. The door was open and– and I saw myself, and–”

You were also quite embarrassed, but it was him that was caught red-handed, not you.

“I thought I would give it a shot to edit it myself,” you played it cool.

Chris took a few steps towards you and asked in a tone of genuine disbelief.

“You were touching yourself right next to me?”

“You seriously didn’t notice?” you furrowed your brows, “It was a bit… too wet.”

“I was a bit too gone to pay attention to my surroundings, to be honest.”

There it was again. Every time there was an absence of a sound between you two, an explosion hazard suddenly manifested in the room. The tension was unbearable. You would do anything to break that silence and breathe easy a little, but you couldn’t think of one thing to say. As if that wasn’t enough, Chris approached a lot closer and stood right in front of your face.

“I’m gonna ask you a question but please don’t lie to me.”

That was a pretty redundant request because your thinking capabilities had already hit the floor, rendering you completely incapable of producing a lie.

“Do you– Do you want me?”

It wasn’t his usual presumptuous ‘You want me, don’t you?’ that enraged you to no end when you heard it. There was vulnerability in his voice. He actually was not sure, and that’s why he was legitimately asking you. He couldn’t word this any other way because he was just as scared of the consequences as you were.

How would you even describe it? Were you attracted to him? Yes. Were you fantasizing about him? Frequently. But were your feelings only in the realm of basic instinct? Did you want him or did you want him?

You should have had that conversation with yourself. You really should have.

“Because if you do…”

You looked at his face, but he was the one examining the floor now. There weren’t any answers written there, but he just would not look at you.

“That would make me really happy.”

The way he lifted his face up and looked right into your eyes while uttering those last two words. The way your heart skipped a beat. How would you even describe it? 

“And if I don’t?”

He looked heartbroken when you said that. His shoulders drooped, and his eyes returned to having a staring contest with the floor again.

“Then I’ll try harder.”

You weren’t going to be able to endure this anymore.

The playlist comprised of every song that reminded you of Chris was still playing in the background. The candles that reminded you of his perfume were still burning. The gentle night breeze was still blowing on your curtains to make them dance, but it had gotten a bit chilly. You walked past Chris and turned off the monitors. He watched the way your finger pressed the button. He watched how you turned around on your feet and came close to him again. He watched you throw your hands around his neck, and when you finally kissed him, his knees almost gave way.

There seemed to be a pattern every time you kissed. It started soft, just curious moves of your lips trying to remember what it felt like kissing the other, but you both caved to each other so fast that it escalated at record speed. It turned from an act of affection to carnal desire, and there was no telling where that one kiss could end up at if no one stopped it. But you knew.

You knew it would end up in a beautiful disaster.

You took off his white top that didn’t leave much to imagination and let him rid you of the t-shirt you were wearing in lieu of a nightgown. Without even giving him enough time to appreciate your bare torso, you pulled him to your bed.

“This cannot mean anything,” you barely managed to utter in between his relentless kisses.

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

“I’m serious!”

Chris attacked your lips in response and refused to stop kissing you. His kisses were alternating between your lips, your neck, and your breasts, but it was getting out of control a bit too fast. You hastily reached for your nightstand drawer for a condom just to notice…

“Oh, fuck me!” 

“What happened?” Chris abruptly stopped, panting hard over you, “You don’t have protection?”

“It didn’t occur to me to have some just in case an impromptu escapade develops. I’ve been in a prolonged dry spell,” you confessed a bit too candidly, “Don’t you have any on you?”

“I wasn’t exactly expecting to get lucky tonight.”

You both heaved deep sighs and laid there in frustration for a while, but this was worse than trying to get a hold of yourself in public. Chris was literally to your right, topless, trying to calm down his breathing, and not to assume anything, but you were pretty convinced he was also cursing a mouthful to his luck.

“If you’re willing to…” you uttered with a tinge of reservation while watching the ceiling, “I’m on contraceptives.”

“Oh,” Chris turned to his left, but he looked a bit flustered, “I’ve never… Like…”

“Fucked anyone raw before?” you completed his sentence on his behalf.

“When you’re in my line of work, that’s like swimming with the piranhas that feed on fire-breathing electric eels.”

“I get that, but I mean surely you had girlfriends before, right? It’s not like you never…”

You trailed off, waiting for a confirmation from him, but all that followed was silence.

“Seriously?!” your eyes widened in surprise, “You know quite literally everything else, but you really don’t know what it feels like to raw dog?”

“I mean how different can it be really?”

“Let’s just say the difference is skinny dipping versus having a wetsuit on,” you informed him and offered an alternative, “I guess you can go out and buy some. I clearly need to replenish my stocks anyway.”

You genuinely didn’t mean anything else by it. It wasn’t even a sarcastic comment, but Chris got ticked off pretty bad over what you just said.

“I’m not buying you condoms just so you can practice safe sex with other people.”

What the hell was happening exactly?

“Who said anything about other people?” you looked at him in bewilderment.

“You did.”

“You did!”

“You did say you clearly needed to replenish your stocks.”

“I literally told you I was in a dry spell, and also we could do it without a condom.”

“And I told you I’ve never had sex without protection before.”

“And I’m giving you my consent, what’s the m—?”

He shut you up by swiftly pulling you into a kiss. How the hell he did it you had no idea. Chris would kiss your lips and all of a sudden you would forget what you were pissed off about. Unconventional apology method for sure, but it worked. It worked like a charm.

He abruptly stopped and his face turned worried for some reason.

“Are you…?”

He was clearly hesitating. You could see whatever it was he was trying to say was… hurting him. He mustered his courage and finally decided to face the music.

“Are you sure it’s not going to disgust you to sleep with me?”

You honestly didn’t follow where the heck that came from. 

“Disgust me?” you asked him with genuine confusion in your eyes, “Why would it disgust me?”

Chris averted his eyes from you and gnawed on his lips, not knowing how to properly word this. He couldn’t hold your gaze as he responded to you.

“I’m pretty used, you see.”

Your heart broke into a million fucking pieces that he was thinking of himself that way. Oh, you wanted to hug him. Oh, you wanted to pull him into a tight embrace and never let go. What the fuck did he even mean used? He wasn’t some piece of goddamn merchandise; he was a human being with feelings.

You swallowed a sob that threatened to escape your throat and turned on the sass mode instead to diffuse the tension.

“So? Just because people don’t record every sexual encounter they have doesn’t mean they didn’t have numerous partners before,” you shrugged carefreely, “The only difference is that you can’t lie about it whereas many people do.”

He looked a bit relieved hearing you say that but was still somewhat on edge.

“Well… Did you?”

“Have many partners? Not really,” you honestly answered him, “Does that make me a self-righteous prude in your eyes?”

“Of course not!”

You placed the tiniest of kisses on his nose and smiled.

“Exactly.”

He smiled back. It wasn’t a grin. It wasn’t a smirk. It was that devastating smile that framed his dimples perfectly. Your heart fluttered seeing that again.

“Your eyes are beautiful, you know,” you touched his face and caressed his cheek, “But they look a bit sad.”

He averted his eyes again, but rather than discomfort, he got legitimately shy this time. 

“Don’t look away from me,” you insisted on holding his gaze.

As you were getting lost in the little galaxies he carried in his eyes, you played with his hair. He leaned into your touch. You laid him down right next to you and whispered.

“Close your eyes now.”

He did as he was told and you kissed him again. You brushed his hair with your fingers as he pulled you into his embrace and started caressing your back. Your hands traveled down to unbutton his pants. He dragged your waistband down to get rid of your shorts. You ended up stripping each other fully, never once leaving each other’s lips.

“It’s been a while since you appreciated this, hasn’t it?” you smiled into his kiss. 

But Chris wasn’t smiling. He was looking at you with eyes you had never seen before. Deeper than an abyss and louder than a deafening thunder. Begging you to figure it out yourself because he just couldn’t say it.

Without saying anything, he turned you around to lie facedown. You felt his lips on your nape momentarily, making you shudder all over. He started kissing your back, drawing a trail down your spine, and eventually reaching your waist. It felt incredible. He was so gentle with his movements, but he was burning every piece of skin he kissed, and it was turning you on so bad.

He turned you around again, making his way from your crotch, up your breasts, and to your lips one more time. With every kiss he landed on your skin, you felt the bruises you didn’t even realize you had disappear a little bit. You felt the pleasant itch of a wound turning into a scar. You felt relief. 

You also wanted to heal just a tiny part of him. You also wanted to soothe whatever was making him flinch in pain when no one was looking.

You pulled him under you and started drawing your own map on him. From his neck to his shoulders, from his chest to his abdomen, down to his crotch where he was flushed pink and dripping around his slit. When you made a move to kiss his cock, Chris immediately stopped  you.

“You don’t– You don’t have to. Really. I’m o—”

You stared at him as he kept rambling. You kissed the hand that was stopping you, and gently removed it while holding his gaze. Then you closed your eyes and kissed his smooth skin. You kissed him like you were blowing on a painful burn. You kissed him like you were singing lullabies to him to calm down. You kissed him like you were pacifying him. His stutters eventually came to a halt, and he completely surrendered to you. His clenched muscles finally loosened as he relaxed into the bed.

Then he started truly enjoying the feeling of being pleasured in your mouth. 

It felt so intense. More intense than any other instance he’d experienced before. You weren’t rushing him into finishing. You weren’t even trying to make him cum. Licking slow stripes on his cock, slurping on his precum, having him leisurely sink into your mouth until his tip reached the back of your throat, just savoring his taste. You had nowhere else to be. 

Chris was so overwhelmed that he was pressing his palms on his eyes, letting himself get nuked by unmatched bliss. He felt like he was being possessed by something, or like he was drowning but it was such a pleasant feeling. Then he opened his eyes and started watching you. The way you were pressing your lips all over him. The way you were enjoying him. He felt so naked and defenseless in front of you that he wanted to cry. But he moaned instead. He moaned louder when you wrapped your lips around him again. He moaned louder when you moved your tongue on his popping veins again. He moaned even louder when you started stroking him in the same rhythm as you were blowing him. He moaned the loudest when you let out content hums with him fully in your mouth as he shot his entire load down your throat just like in his fantasies. You crawled your way back up and kissed his lips for a while until he came down. He basked himself in his taste on your tongue.

When he was able to perceive the world through normal vision again, Chris slowly pushed you down to have you lie on your back, and started paying some much-deserved attention to your breasts. He loved watching your nipples get that hard and he was finally able to tease them in his mouth for the first time. God, what a beautiful thing you were. What a beautiful, sexy, angelic lust demon you were with that tattoo hugging your body, turning him on beyond humanely possible. He traced every single detail on it with his tongue until he finally reached your crotch, torturing you with the anticipation of what he was going to do to you next.

Chris remembered your taste. It was only a couple of drops, but he still remembered it like it was yesterday. Tastiest fucking thing on earth, especially so because he’d got you soaking like that in the first place. And now he was directly looking at the source, an infinite number of servings right in front of him to stuff himself full to his heart’s content.

He tenderly caressed your pussy with his thumb first, carving every detail into memory. What your clit looked like when aroused, how you throbbed when he even slightly teased you, the shape of your folds before he sucked the life out of you. 

Then he dragged his tongue from your entrance up to your clit and smeared your juices everywhere. He spat on your pussy just for his viewing pleasure, just to watch some bodily fluid of his drip down your cunt. He wrapped his hands around your thighs and his lips around your clit, sucking, and sucking, and sucking on you some more.

You were a mess under him. 

“Do you like it?” Chris broke the deafening silence with a barely audible whisper, “Am I pleasing you right?”

A part of you wanted to ride the shit out of his face, but another part of you wanted this to last forever. He changed his ministrations from sucking to licking slow stripes on you with occasional kisses right under your clit every once in a while. The pressure of his tongue was just right, and he was already flying you out of your body.

“It feels… it feels fucking… perfect,” you barely managed to speak as your eyes rolled back.

When you moaned like that, Chris felt himself get hard again. He shifted in his place to be able to reach his cock and started stroking himself in a very lazy rhythm while slowly licking you. The sight of him doing that was so fucking erotic that it put you in a hypnotic state of arousal. You couldn’t talk. You didn’t know what words were anymore. All you could produce was incoherent sounds of pleasure in varying frequencies. Quiet, sudden increase in volume, a decrescendo, quiet again, a crescendo, a frustrated whine, a delighted moan, a crescendo, and a decrescendo again.

He kept edging you thinking it would maybe cause you to beg, but you didn’t mind it at all. If he was down for it, who were you to tell him to hurry up and finish you? You were enjoying this a bit too much for your own good. Just him in your bed, between your legs, soaking you through your sheets all the way to your mattress, perhaps enjoying himself a bit more than you. 

He was drawing languid circles around your clit and freehand lines on your folds, then spreading your pussy lips to suck on you a bit more, but the amount you were oozing didn’t seem to satisfy him. Then he started stimulating you more aggressively, lapping at your clit, licking into your entrance, fucking you excruciatingly shallowly with his tongue, smearing his entire face with your slick and fucking loving it.

“CHRIS!!!”

It was everything he wanted to hear. You, screaming his name as you came into his mouth, clawing your bedsheets with how overwhelmed you were, losing yourself in narcotic pleasure only he could provide for you. You kissed each other deep for a long time afterwards, exploring what your flavors mixed with each other tasted like. Chris rested his back against your headboard and pulled you on top of him.

“Come up.” 

You took your time straddling him, and the closer he got to being inside you, the more nervous he was feeling as if he was about to lose his virginity to you all over again. 

This was really happening.

Call it ridiculous, but experiencing a first with you in whatever capacity felt very weirdly intimate to him. His eyes were intently glued on your pussy as you aligned yourself with him, and when he finally started sinking into you, a drawn-out hiss fell from his lips until he bottomed out. You held his gaze and clenched hard with a smirk on your face.

“Yes!” Chris slammed his hands on your sides, “Squeeze me.”

He held your waist and disappeared into while you grinded on him to meet him halfway. You were so tight around him that stretching you for himself was mindnumbingly delicious.

“You’re not a virgin, are you?” Chris asked with a grin.

“What if I am?”

“I don’t give a shit and I’m still creampieing you.”

You both started laughing in unison, and he pulled you close for a kiss. You were somewhat scared of this moment getting ruined, and you could almost swear that Chris was feeling the same way. You closed your eyes to relish the feeling of each other meeting in the most secluded corners of your body.

You felt so full every time he slid inside, but not in a carnal way. In a this feels so right way. On the flip side, for the first time in a long time, Chris didn’t feel like lost half anymore. He felt complete when he was inside you. He felt whole. 

If you wanted this to last forever, then Chris wanted it to last forever times infinity. 

“Lay down on my chest.”

Chris kept fucking into you, he couldn’t stop kissing your face. Your forehead. Your nose. Your cheeks. Your lips. Your jawline. 

You moaned a tinge louder when he kissed your neck, and he felt you clench around him.

“Is it this spot?”

He deepened the kiss on your neck, and you felt your skin getting wetter. God, you loved this feeling. You tangled your fingers in his disheveled hair. You kissed his temple. You kissed the crown of his head. He throbbed inside you.

You suddenly found yourself on your back with one swift turn, and Chris put your legs on his shoulders. When he started fucking you hard, your hands traveled up his forearms and landed on his biceps. You scratched him, and he went faster. You scratched him harder, and he went even faster.

“D–drawer,” you pointed at your nightstand, “Bullet.”

“Tell me what you want me to do. Ah, fuck!” Chris threw his head back when he hit a dead end inside you, but slowed down to allow you to speak properly, “Words, baby, use your words.”

You clenched so fucking hard that it almost made him cum.

“Did you just call me baby?”

He faltered for a moment not knowing how to respond to that, but you didn’t seem angry. If he was in his right mind, he could come up with a clever way to slither out of this, but he didn’t see any point in lying at that moment.

“I think it suits you,” he smiled at you warmly instead.

Chris opened your drawer to grab the vibrator, but he couldn’t help his surprised smile, barely dodging bursting into laughter.

“Isn’t this the bullet I gave you that one time?”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Why are you embarrassed? I’m literally balls deep in you.”

You attempted to grab it from his hands, but he didn’t let you have it. He turned it on and placed it on your clit himself, and the volume of your moans suddenly peaked.

“Feels good, yeah?”

“Deeper,” you sank your fingertips into his arms, “Fuck me deeper!”

He changed his angle and started hitting a spot inside you. It felt soft. Wetter than usual. It felt… It sorta felt like—

“How the fuck are you blowing me when I’m inside you?!”

“That’s it right there!” you held onto him for dear life, “Hit that hard.”

Your words made him throb so fucking hard that it almost made you cum.

“Did you just tell me to hit that?”

You thought you said something wrong in the heat of the moment, but when you looked into Chris’ eyes, you saw something maniacal in them. He reappeared right before your eyes something very akin to a goddamn incubus.

“Oh, I’ll hit that. I’ll hit that good,” he started fucking you with sharp, precise thrusts, “I’ll hit that so hard, you’ll be seeing stars for a week… baby.”

The moment you started contracting around him in shorter intervals, Chris urged you to snap your eyes open.

“Look at me,” he panted heavily over you, “Don’t. Don’t ever forget this feeling. Ever.”

Then he turned the intensity of the vibrator on your clit to the maximum, and you arched into him, feeling your soul get ripped out of your body.

“That’s my fucking girl,” Chris contorted his face in utter pleasure as you came all over his cock, and let himself spill inside you. Again. And again. And again until he collapsed. 

There were only sounds of heavy panting in the room for a while as neither of you was able to come down. At long last, Chris managed to turn to his side to look at you and immediately broke into a very content smile.

“You’re glowing,” he drew circles with his index finger on your chest, “I kinda dig this look on you.”

“Just sh–”

“Shut up, I know,” he kissed your smile, “I’ll shut up.”

He turned you to your side, kissed the spot between your shoulder blades, then wrapped his hands around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. You were just finished fucking each other’s brains out, but you still felt his semi on your hips. He was subtly grinding on you, thinking you wouldn’t notice maybe, but you couldn’t help laughing.

“You can, by the way.”

“Hm?”

“Aren’t you trying to slither your way into cockwarming?”

“You said it, not me. Since you insist,” he snugly slid inside you, but of course it didn’t stop there.

“Behave.”

“But then who’s gonna fuck my cum deeper into you?”

“Chris…”

“Fuck, that feels a bit too good,” he started caressing your pussy while lazily fucking into you, “I kinda need another round.”

“Christopher!”

“Oh yeah, baby, say my full name. You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad.”

You both burst into loud laughters as Chris opted for tickling the crap out of your first, but it calmed down soon with his kisses all over your face. It was just so easy to give in to him. Then another round started where he made you cum. Then another started where you made him cum. Then another. Then another. You fucked each other until the darkness clocked out and changed shifts with the morning. Until you were both too damn sore and spent to go on.

It was finally quiet in your room. There was only peaceful silence. You were laying on your side with your back turned against Chris, gently breathing, and Chris’ head was buried in the crook of your neck.

“You just see right through me, don’t you?” he softly whispered with a broken smile and kissed your hair, “Of course it wasn’t about buying some damn condom. I just…” 

He took a deep breath, careful not to wake you up, and continued.

“I’ve never made love to someone before. I don’t know how. I didn’t– I didn’t want you to think…”

Giving up on trying to stitch words together, he quietly pleaded to you, wishing he could wear his heart on his sleeve instead.

“I’m so scared you’re going to regret this. Please don’t regret this,” he hugged you tighter and finally drifted to sleep.

Chris thought you were sleeping all along, but you were wide awake since that very first sentence. You could try going back to sleep maybe, but the tears running down your face wouldn’t let you be.

This cannot mean anything, you had urged him.

But it fucking did.

「© 2023, exxxtraoddinary · No translations, rewrites, or reposts permitted」

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