(NSFW below this, minors please do not interact, this is 18+ content)
Sex can be all different things.
It can be bad, it can be good. It can be goofy or it can be serious. Sometimes sex is a way to express certain emotions. Comfort, love, anger, hate and sometimes, it’s just a carnal expression of lust that is so undeniable that it hits you in the not greatest moments.
He’s supposed to be at dance practice, in fact, he was supposed to be at dance practice twenty minutes ago. You drove him here for practice, not for a quickie on your car.
As he was peeling your sweatpants down and smothering your hips with kisses, you reminded him of his schedule. He brushed you off, muttering a quiet “shh baby, lemme’ get these offa’ you” and if he wasn’t concerned, you weren’t going to be either.
“Fuck,” he hisses, grappling his sweat slicked palms over your thighs to squeeze him tighter, “you’re so wet baby, god, your gonna’ make me come.”
You grin at him, shifting your own palms behind you for more purchase against the trunk of the car, making sure to stick your chest out that little bit further. He’s got this furrow to his brow as he grunts with every push into your sopping cunt, his mind lost to how good you look letting him fuck you like this.
He’s got his eyes glued to your tits, your shirts collar tucked under the swell of them and the harsh, led lights of the garage parking is making his saliva on your nipples seem glossy and makes your stiffened flesh shine like diamonds.
You would later smack his shoulder and glare at him when he would inevitably bring up how you let him fuck you in the parking lot of the studio the band was using for rehearsals where anyone could walk in, tits out and moans echoing in the cement building like some sort of cheap whore but just like your concern for his punctuality, it’s the last thing on your mind.
The only thing your thinking about right now, other than how sexy it is when he whimpers out your name, is how it never ceases to amaze you how he can go from one mood to another, switching from a sleepy passenger in your car as you drove him to his early practice, moaning and bitching about agreeing to such a early start time to sucking on your nipples and fingering you against your car in such a short span of time.
You don’t know what changed, what you did to suddenly make him think “hey, let’s get my dick wet before two hours of gruelling physical exercise” or what emotion you’d pin this on but you’re just happy to let him make you come, even if you were getting a little cold.
“Rub my clit,” you pant, shooting a hand up to grip at his shoulder when he angles himself to lean over you more, tossing your head back as you feel the heat of an orgasm spreading in the base of your spine, “make me come Beommie.”
He follows your instructions like the obedient partner he is, letting one of your thighs go to press a thumb above where he’s currently cleaving your open, using some of the slick on your thighs that could be arousal or saliva to give you what you want.
You shudder and plant your heels on the lip of the bumper, pulling him down closer and arching yourself up, “Just like that-fuck, fuck- don’t stop angel, good god-“
You come first, your whole body bending and jerking when he gets as deep as he can, his thumb cemented to your clit as your hips shake and flex under his. Your skin feels like it’s actually vibrating and you can feel how hard you’re clenching down on him, desperate to get him deeper and deeper even though you know he can’t.
“That’s it pretty girl, love it when you come on me,” he groans, slamming into you harder and harder, shivering when he hears the noises your cunts making around his dick, “you want me to come in you, huh? You want it?”
You nod your head, mouth slack and getting pushed into near ecstasy as he overstimulates beyond belief, not wanting it to end but knowing if he keeps going, you’re not making the drive home.
“I want it,” you whimper, making sure to wobble your bottom lip when he looks to your face, his tongue peeking out to lick his own lips at the sight of your blown out eyes and swollen lips, “I want you to come in me, please? I need your come Beom, I need it.”
“You’ve been such a good girl,” he nods, hips losing rhythm and almost talking to himself more than you, “my good girl, my pretty girl. Wanna’ fill you up, keep you happy and dripping with me.”
He’s coming before he even gets out “dripping”, whether he knows it or not. You know him too well, know how his face screws up just before he comes every time and how much of a sucker he is for raw dogging you in private, yet open spaces to stake a metaphorical claim on you for all the world to see even though no one ever does.
He pulls you into him, hand on your waist yanking you forward involuntarily until your wrap your arms around his shoulders and to let him shake and shiver against you. He’s humping and rutting into you now that your closer, cursing and moaning and whimpering into your neck as he pumps his come into you.
He gets so desperate to get as deep and as close as he can to and into you that it’s near godesque worship in your eyes. He’s so eager to please you, to have you be his “good girl” and keep you satisfied that even though his fresh from an orgasm, head muddled and hot, his thumb hasn’t left your clit and he’s still trying to reach as deep as he can, knowing you like the closeness and liking it himself, just as much.
“Fuck, you’re irresistible,” he mutters, nosing below your ear and laughing gently, moving his hand away from your pussy when you squirm at the overstimulation, “like you were put on this earth just to tempt me.”
“Please,” you laugh, squeezing him close and laying your head on his shoulder, “all I did was drive you here, you’re the one giving in to these non-existent temptations. I’m just living my life.”
“It’s cause I love you,” he mutters near petulantly, pulling away to show you his pout and messy hair, “and you look pretty when you’re doin’ stuff for me. Was too tired to drive.”
“So this was a thank you?” you laugh again, pressing a quick kiss to the crest of his lips when he pouts harder, “You fucked me on the trunk of my car, in the middle of a parking lot where anyone could see us, cause you’re thankful you didn’t have to drive?”
“Yeah,” he pouts, “but also cause I love you.”
You smile at him, eyes taking in the flush to his cheeks and the warm glow of his honey tinted eyes under the bright lights and rolling your eyes at him playfully. He’s an idiot, but he’s your idiot.
You didn’t need a thank you, driving him to work is just something you do once in a while when he has to leave early. You’re a morning person, awake even on your days off at six in the morning and doing something. He’s a night owl, waking up and being all around groggy any earlier than ten is expected and natural, driving him made you feel safer than letting him operate heavy machinery after almost walking into the bathroom door cause he couldn’t open his eyes this morning.
You don’t like to use sex as a thank you, makes something in your gut churn a little sour but you know he likes too. He likes to press kiss after kiss to your face when you pick him up from the studio, he never fails to cling to you all night after you feed the cats for him when he’s busy. He buys you flowers and does your laundry for you when you schedule doctors appointments or do the groceries for him, even when it’s his week to do so, and you guess having him fuck you until you see stars for giving him a lift is just too on brand for him for you to be a little twisted about it.
“Next time, just buy me a coffee and a kiss.”
“Coffee doesn’t mean I get to come in you though.”
A thankful, loveable idiot.
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