lucenthoney

your package was waiting on the foot of your bed when you got home. the cardboard box was slightly crushed, the corners pushed in and the tape frayed like it had been dragged down a street by a rope. you'd been tracking it closely all week, since the contents cost about half of your paycheck and then some, having paid extra for a warranty. your anticipation had been growing all week not only because of the simple, modern-age dopamine rush of receiving a package but because, maybe, you'd finally get some sleep this weekend. and every day after.

that was if the item inside the box was less damaged than the outside.

"did you fucking sit on it?" you asked as you stomped into the kitchen you shared with your roommate, who was standing at the sink as if he were going to wash the dishes piling up but was, instead, scrolling aimlessly on his phone.

euijoo glanced up at you once, rolling his eyes as he flicked his loose, messy hair out of his eyes. he said, simply, "no, i didn't."

"well, somebody did," you sighed, navigating around him to get the scissors from a drawer, "i'm gonna be pissed if they're broken."

"you're already pissed," he half-laughed, shifting over to put distance between the two of you, like you were contagious with some incurable disease. he watched you, though, intently, as you swiped open what was left of the tape holding the box closed. or, rather, attempted to with the world's dullest scissors and apparently the toughest tape ever made. he cleared his throat, crossing his arms over his chest, "what's in the box, anyway?"

"if you'd have some patience," you grunted, shifting the box on it's side to get a better grip. but the grip wasn't better. in fact, it was worse, and the scissors clattered out of your hand, skidding across the floor and right by his feet. euijoo bent down to pick them up, and you sighed, defeated. he definitely thought you were incompetent. you had given him no reason to believe otherwise in your three months of living together.

"hand it over," he motioned for the box still caged in your arms, "before you cut your fingers off."

and when you handed him the package, he, too, struggled with wedging the blade between the concrete fibers. euijoo attempted an expert move, pinning the box in place between his knees and driving the scissors down the length of it with both hands.

"you're gonna cut your leg off," you winced at the maneuver, a bit prideful that you weren't struggling by any fault of your own. it was painful to watch, and the sight almost made you second-guess any invasive sentiments you had toward him. almost. he was undeniably attractive, tall and slender but broad and so boyish. euijoo carried a certain charm about him, like he was the teacher's favorite in school, like he had sold lemonade on the street corner and made no money because he drank it all before getting his first customer. he also seemed closed off in a way that reversed his charm in many situations; euijoo seemed to be actively fighting his personality off, like a mosquito buzzing in his face. he swatted and swatted. even now, he wanted to laugh at your critique of his technique when yours was far less successful, but he didn't. instead, he doubled down on making it work. you chewed at the inside of your cheek, "don't, like, stab it."

"do you want it open or not?"

"i'd prefer my noise cancelling headphones in one piece," you said, mumbling the next sentence under your breath at a volume you thought only you could hear, "i might finally get some sleep at night."

having a roommate had it’s perks– shared chores, shared rent, shared meals when one of you would make too large of a portion by accident– but it also had its drawbacks. having your particular roommate had one, very significant downside: the shared wall.

you thought living with euijoo would be convenient for the both of you, cheaper than living alone and in a cuter apartment, too, but it had grown to just be convenient for him. you knew him through a mutual friend, nicholas, who had personally recommended euijoo when you mentioned that you were looking for a roommate. according to nico, euijoo was helpful with chores and always paid his half of the rent on time, which was more than your previous roommates did. but you still didn't know him that well, having only been around him a few times in nico's large friend group.

"is there anything i should know about?" you had asked nicholas, just as a precaution before reaching out to euijoo about the apartment, "like, is he a sleepwalker?"

"uh, no, he doesn't sleepwalk," nico had laughed, then, a knowing, low chuckle, "but he's… kind of loud."

you could handle a bit of noise; you'd lived with gamers who shouted well into quiet hours, and your last set of housemates were sorority girls who sounded like they were competing in squealing matches every weekend. there was no possible way euijoo was louder than them— you told nicholas this, and he didn't discourage your decision to reach out to him the next day, offering him the spare room in your prospective flat.

the first night, you thought you had imagined it, the muffled grunts and curses that phased right through the wall separating your room from his. earlier that day, you could hear him on the phone, the way his voice carried right into the open space of the apartment despite the normal volume. you could hear every sharp slide of the plastic hangers on the rack as he organized his wardrobe. every slam of a drawer, every click of the light switch, every whir of the ceiling fan— it was like you were in there with him. but euijoo himself hadn't been loud in the way nicholas described, like a nuisance. he moved confidently, unafraid to bump corners or shuffle things around. for the first ten hours, you were inspired; you could have stood to be less apologetic, live a bit recklessly. but nicholas lived that way, too— confident.

maybe he snored, you had thought as you slipped into your bed. it was the only option left. unless nicholas had been pulling your leg, making you worry over nothing because he knew you would. your eyes fluttered closed, heavy after lifting boxes and unpacking all day. but just as you began to drift off, you heard it. you heard the unmistakable drawl of pleasure, the satisfied sighs and moans and strings of jumbled curses flowing from lips undoubtedly slack, and you knew only one thing for certain:

nicholas was fucking dead.

would it have been so difficult to mention that euijoo was some kind of sex addict? there was no other way to make sense of the sheer number of times a week your new roommate was moaning, alone in his room but talking himself through it like he wasn't. you were no prude, but you started taking a tally of the sleepless nights from how frequent his self-care sessions were. by night five, you'd barely slept a wink in your new apartment.

so, you really did hope that the headphones would be truly noise-cancelling. you craved a night's rest that didn't have a pre-show. but you didn't want to embarrass euijoo at all with your predicament. somehow, his comfortability outweighed your own. surely, it had nothing to do with his sweet, round eyes, dark like turned soil. or his patient smile, which dropped as soon as you let your grievances slip. i might finally get some sleep at night.

because euijoo heard it. he definitely heard it, telling by the way the scissors slipped in his hand and nicked the soft, golden skin of his finger like a thorn. he winced and brought the cut to his lips instinctively, dropping the scissors in the sink behind him. "shit," he muttered into his hand as you stuttered toward him and grabbed the half-opened box from his arms, dropping it to the floor.

"hold on," you urged him, like he had any choice, and began your violent rummaging through a drawer. somewhere, you had bandages. somewhere, you had your shit together, eight full hours of sleep, and a perfectly organized, ready-to-go first aid kit for situations like this, just in case two grown adults fail to open a cardboard box. your fingers combed through miscellaneous papers, pens, and rolls of tape until they landed on the box you were looking for. you sucked your teeth at the sight before you, "you might not like these, but they're all we have."

cartoon hotdogs scrawled in vivid hues of red and yellow, complete with giant eyes and cheeky smiles, decorated each of the bandages. some of them, with stick-figure arms and legs, were playing with various sport objects, kicking balls back and forth or hitting airborne items with rackets. others were surfing or sunbathing or rollerskating. euijoo pulled his finger from his lips, breathing a soft laugh as you struggled to unwrap the bandage. "nice," he noted, softly, a smile unfurling. you held his right wrist with a shaky hand as you stuck the adhesive of the bandage to his finger, curling the hotdog-printed material around until it sat snug right above the bend. his palms were unexpectedly soft, and you wanted to kick yourself for letting your mind wander. you imagined the way they might have felt sliding up the skin of your thigh, long and svelte. you didn't even notice you were holding your breath until you were finished, until you had concealed the small cut in the most obnoxious bandage ever created and finally freed the air from your lungs.

euijoo was holding his breath, too, watching your fingertips dance around his, steady and intentional and completely opposite to the version of you that worked helplessly at the tape securing your package. you released his wrist like it burned to touch, like you'd been caught, and wiped your palms down the front of your pants, "how's that? can you bend it?" he flipped his hand in front of his face, looking at the bandage with amusement, studying every inch of the design. euijoo bent his finger, slowly, wincing in one grand, exaggerated flinch before dissolving into a chuckle, your fist meeting his shoulder in an uncharacteristic shove.

"it's good," he laughed, lightly punching your shoulder, too, "thanks."

the headphones were in perfect condition despite the trauma the cardboard endured in its delivery. euijoo had cut away enough of the tape that all you had to do was pull the lids apart. you ran a few tests, alone and in the temporary silence; the headphones enveloped your entire ears as you tapped on furniture, clapped your hands, and clicked different surfaces together. nothing. there were traces of sound, sharp notes that twinkled above the muted pulse of your heartbeat in your ears like wind chimes. but, for the most part, you couldn't hear anything.

for the most part. you should not have settled for most.

it always started slowly, in a way that, to the untrained ear, sounded like euijoo was suffering from a tummy ache and had been struck by a wave of cramps. he groaned, sighed. you tried not to imagine what he was doing, tried not to stare through the wall like you had x-ray vision. the part of you that respected his privacy squeezed your eyes shut, just in case; the part of you that was human, that couldn't resist your body's natural and completely normal reactions, slipped one cup of the headphones off your ear.

"shit," you could hear him, muffled, "just like that."

it had to be some psychological torture experiment. having a roommate who was inconsiderately loud was bad enough; the fact that he was hot made it all the more unbearable, and you wondered if he was aware of how thin the walls were or if he was arrogant enough to not care. did he know he could get away with it? you predicted the answer was yes.

the truth was that all of nicholas's friends were hot, but most of them were less pompous about it than nicholas, who was visibly conscious of his outward appeal. his wardrobe, his hair— it all screamed i know i'm hot. but you'd never tell him that. euijoo's beauty snuck up on you. when you'd first met, his tall frame seemed to have shrunk behind the cluster of boys, lingering behind the onslaught of personalities that was their friend group. you'd noticed him later, when everything grew quiet at the end of the party nico invited you to following a slightly world-altering breakup. you had only agreed to go because your ex was, unfortunately, your only friend. meeting people seemed like a great idea.

nicholas wanted you to do more than just meet people, though.

"if you ever get lonely," nicholas had started his award-winning pitch over lunch one afternoon, "euijoo's always down for a good time."

you had nearly choked on your water. euijoo seemed like the least likely out of the group to be down for a good time. especially with you, to whom he had said a total of three words. he seemed more reserved than the others; when they jumped to ask you questions, bring you drinks, and drag you to dance, euijoo had sank deeper into the couch or slumped absentmindedly against the wall. he just looked disinterested, but looks could be deceiving.

"i'm good, thanks," you had wiped the water from your mouth on the back of your hand, choking down your embarrassment.

hook-ups weren't really your thing, hence the aforementioned world-altering breakup that stemmed entirely from your inability to let someone go. you craved emotional connection, long-term stability. you couldn't get that from a one night stand. you wanted to know someone, inside and out. you realized a bit too late that the closest you had ever come to real love was your own hand brushing through your hair, massaging lotion into your damp skin every evening and gently swiping lip balm over your lips every morning. and at night, it had been your own hand stuffed down the front of your shorts bringing yourself to orgasm.

you tried to fight your body every night. the guilt started to weigh on you, like you'd been keeping a secret, like you'd totaled his car in a parking lot and left a half-assed note on his windshield. all the while, your frustration bled into something hotter. you could feel it now, the burning between your thighs, so sharp it almost hurt. and so began your nightly routine: hear him, hate him, and then join him. from the comfort of your own bed, of course, with your laptop open next to you like you'd be paying any attention at all to whatever you decided to put on.

"fuck, baby," euijoo's hoarse voice seeped sinfully through the wall, and your legs involuntarily squeezed, desperate for any friction at all. you would have never admitted it, but you kind of liked the way the guilt amplified your arousal, even if you struggled to look him in the eyes every morning. the thrill of being caught almost outweighed the fear of it.

you quickly pulled up your preferred site. preferred was a bit of a stretch as you didn't really visit many others, but this one got the job done. the interface was a bit clunky, so you were immediately met with an onslaught of streams, both pre-recorded and live, catering to any and every fetish and interest; girls in latex or draped in lace, men in costume, or masked bodies roleplaying vigilantes in the shadows— it was all there in one flashing, oversaturated place. if you weren't half-drunk on your roommate's moans, you would have been severely overwhelmed. but instead, you scrolled and scrolled with your brows furrowed, not quite sure what you were looking for. were you even looking for anything? the thrill of watching usually did it for you before any dirty talk could, mixed with the mental image of your roommate across the hall with his cock in his fist.

god, you were fucked.

you clicked one at random. it didn't matter; the throbbing in your panties promised an orgasm before the site's sponsored ads were even finished running. but, quicker than you anticipated, you were met with the live feed of the stream, of the streamer's dimly lit room. you'd never seen this camboy before, even in passing, but you were not disappointed with your impulsive choice.

user byunny's webcam was angled low, tilted meticulously to reveal only what he wanted you, vaguely speaking, to see; in pixelated, dull light, the exposed skin of his chest and stomach glowed subtly, like headlights muted in sheets of rain, and the angle accentuated the toned slopes of his stomach. he was built delicately, sculpted with a gentle hand from his ribs to his hips which jutted, helplessly, into his hand. you felt your cheeks burn as his fingers wrapped tighter around his leaking, angry cock. the tip had been long flushed red, the length of it coated sleek and throbbing. his hips stuttered with every pained stroke from base to tip, his hips lifting to meet his movements in weak, pleasure-driven thrusts. sweat rolled down the soft expanse of his stomach, rolling down the curve of his waist and disappearing into the shadows of the background. of course, you were meant to be watching his dick, perfectly centered and begging for attention, but you found yourself lost in the details; the t-shirt bunched at the top of the screen, held up by his free hand to keep the flexing muscles of his abdomen visible, the swell of his chest as he panted, as his orgasm inched closer, and his hands. they were pretty, knuckles flushed with vigor, and his fingers were long. you followed the precise bend of his wrist to the golden flat of the back of his palm, all the way to his perfectly kept nail beds, all pristine— except for one.

secured neatly around one of his fingers was a bandage. the hotdogs were roller-skating, and they were skating directly up the length of camboy byunny's twitching cock. your breath caught in your throat as the thought did more than cross your mind. no, the thought pummeled through every other idea you could have had, knocking them against the sides of your skull and shattering them into thousands of pieces. deny, deny, deny, you thought, there are reasonable explanations for this. coincidences were real; you'd been in several of them. at the store, sometimes your total was your birthday. last week, a stranger on the sidewalk had been wearing the same shoes as you. certainly, these hotdog bandages were a hot commodity among wound-havers.

but, then, there was no denying it, as you heard, through the ear that was not covered by the headphones, the ear that could hear every sound euijoo made in his room next to yours, "im coming- fuck, im coming."

approximately four seconds later, traveling the bottomless pit of latency that plummeted for miles and still didn't hold a candle to the trench in the bottom of your stomach, the man on your screen arched up into his hand, his hotdog-clad finger wrapped definitively around the base of his cock. he groaned, in a distorted, disorientingly familiar voice, "im coming- fuck, im-"

you slammed your laptop closed.

"so, you really thought he was beating it every night for fun?"

nicholas found humor in everything, somehow. even this, which you delivered in a hushed and frantic tone in the center of your favorite cafe, made him snort so loud that every head turned and looked at you. you wondered if they knew, if just by looking at you they could tell that you watched your roommate jack off online. you wondered even more if they could tell that you liked it. that was the part that scared you— you had imagined that very situation for months, privately theorizing what he might have been doing, whether he was using a toy or rutting his hips into his mattress. but, back then, you had just heard him, and the visual in your brain was blurred, as if to protect his identity from your perverted brain. seeing him felt like a major violation, even if you were one of hundreds of people watching. did they feel like this, too?

"you didn't think to mention that euijoo was…" you lowered your head to the table, catching a clear whiff of your coffee swirling in your cup as you kept your voice hushed but frantic, "a camboy? that didn't seem like vital information when i asked if there was anything i should know?"

"it's not really my place to tell you, hm?" nicholas raised an eyebrow, swirling his cup in his hand. the liquid sloshed faintly in the plastic confines as he relaxed back in the padded seating of the cafe chair, "but i personally put two and two together after four days of sleeping like shit and losing my earplugs in my pillows."

"well, what did you do?" you asked, "like, how did you get him to stop?"

"stop?" nicholas laughed again, like he was wise beyond his years, "he can't just stop, dude, that's his job. you either pretend you don't know, play dumb, or you can ask him to keep it down… every night for the rest of your lease."

you realized then why euijoo needed a new place to stay and none of his previous roommates did. nicholas was chill, of course, and didn't seem too bothered by your current situation, but the other boys had shorter tempers, less patience. the idea of euijoo being kicked out of his previous apartment made you wonder why nicholas was so insistent that he would make an excellent roommate for you. everything he had said was true; euijoo was timely with rent, and he never complained about the chores you divided equally between the two of you. it was only the constant dirty talk after sundown and the wall-shaking moaning that knocked him down a peg. and now the fact that you saw his dick and can't stop thinking about it.

"i'm so screwed," you covered your face with your hands, experiencing, for what honestly felt like the first time, darkness and peace at the same time. until your phone chimed on the table below you. with your hands still pressed firmly over your eyes, you sensed nico's hand reaching across the table to flip your phone toward him. you asked, voice muffled by your palms, "who is it?"

"the devil himself," nicholas said with a smirk, flipping the phone back toward you as you slid your hands away from your face to read the text on your lockscreen. from euijoo, a simple question: can i move your clothes out of the dryer? nicholas sipped at his coffee as he studied the way your brows furrowed, as if the question required more than a yes or no. "he's like a housewife," he sighed, almost reminiscing, "does he cook for you?"

"if i say yes, will you take him back? sounds like you really miss him," you teased, half-joking as you typed back a hurried response of 'yes,' when you actually wanted to just tell him to burn everything and forget you ever lived there, that you were moving across the country, maybe even booking a spot on the next moon landing. and then you wondered if 'yes' seemed too enthusiastic. like, yes, please look through all my clothes! so you tacked on a quick apology for a final response of 'yes, sorry.' perfect. not too excited and equally regretful.

next to your other texts, the current conversation stood out because that's what it was— a conversation. your previous messages were brief and dry, ritualistic at best, letting each other know in as few words as possible that rent was on the counter or that there were leftovers in the fridge. it was strange to receive a text asking for permission to do something as mundane as moving laundry from the dryer, which you were positive you'd done before and just left his clean clothes in a heap on the couch. it was even stranger to see your phone light up again, this time with a third text in the chain. 'don't be sorry,' it read. you visibly gulped, stomach tied in an uneasy knot. had euijoo been cloned and replaced?

nicholas downed the last of his coffee as you stared into the blinding light of your screen. he stood up, clapped one sympathetic hand on your shoulder, and said, "no, thanks," he tossed his empty cup in the trash bin by the cafe exit, "i really like my beauty sleep."

when you returned to your apartment, euijoo had made himself lunch. he stood in front of the sink, hovering over the basin where the dirty dishes once sat in stacks to catch the crumbs of his sandwich, of which there were plenty. he probably wouldn't have noticed your presence if you didn't drop your keys on the counter, the sound of the metal clanging drawing his chin over his shoulder, drawing his eyes to yours. instead of greeting you, he nodded his head toward the stove.

another sandwich, untouched and resting neatly on a napkin.

you eyed it, suspiciously.

"do you not like turkey?" euijoo asked, cheeks stuffed full of bread.

he watched as you crossed the kitchen, closing the distance between you and the sandwich and, thus, you and euijoo. you lifted the top slice of bread, examining the layers of toppings. it actually looked delicious, which surprised you less than you anticipated. "turkey's good," you gave him a small, hesitant smile, "thanks."

euijoo hummed in reponse, gaze transfixed on the shrinking space between your mouth and your lunch. he watched your lips part, watched the bread rest on the plush flesh of them as you bit into the corner of the crust. as you swallowed the first bite, he asked, "so how'd you, uh, sleep? with your new toy?"

you would have dropped the sandwich if you weren't so hyper aware of his eyes on you, of his presence so close but so far, just within arms reach. the short answer was that you didn't; the long answer was that, every time you closed your eyes, you replayed the subtle tensing and flexing of his stomach as he drove himself to orgasm, the clenching of damp honeyed skin in the dim light of his room. you slammed your laptop shut before you actually saw him tip fully over the edge, but your brain filled in the gaps until sunrise. in fact, your brain was still filling in the gaps, even standing right next to him.

"great," you lied, rotating the sandwich in your hand, looking for the next best bite. lunch and small talk. euijoo had definitely been cloned and replaced. "yeah, they were totally worth the money."

"good," he nodded, watching as you took another bite. crumbs fell like fresh snow, dusting the front of your shirt, coating the fabric pulled taut by the swell of your chest. he inhaled deeply, releasing the breath as an airy laugh, "just curious since, you know, i have a personal investment," he wiggled his bandaged finger in the space between you, just in case you might have successfully repressed the image of his hand wrapped tightly around his cock, the bandage stark against the flushed underside.

you laughed, too. it felt like that was all you could do. "right," you said, pushing through the heaviness in your chest, at the creeping feeling that he knew that you knew.

the two of you ate the rest of your sandwiches in silence.

that night, your clothes were folded neatly on the foot of your bed, sorted by color. this, of course, incited a new wave of daydreams, this time of the domestic variety; you pictured euijoo, laundry piled high in his arms, making the trek from the dryer to your bedroom— thinking about him in your bedroom— tucking your shirts under his chin, pairing your socks, and lining up the seams of your jeans. when he asked to move your clothes, you expected to find them in a messy pile on your bed. instead, you returned to find pristine stacks and a turkey sandwich. nicholas's voice spun in your head: he's like a housewife; does he cook for you?

whatever guilt you carried that first night dwindled over the following weeks into a hollow pang in the back of your throat, the echo of a faucet dripping in a silent and empty house. you felt fully consumed by him; euijoo was a dark cloud, rumbling thunder in the middle of the night. you had accidentally trained yourself to get turned on by your frustration, so every time you slipped into bed and placed your headphones over your ears, your core fluttered. your stomach twisted into one singular knot that only grew more complicated the longer you fended off the invasive mental images of euijoo relaxing into his pillows, almost parallel to you physically. each of you lay propped up, laptop angled toward you, your own hands unraveling that knot in synchronized rhythm.

it was nearly every night for you, too, now. you even made an account on the site to skip the ads, just so you didn't miss a single second of his stream. it amused you to see other viewers in his live chat thirsting over him, and it made you proud in a fucked up way that you knew the truth, that you knew what color his toothbrush was, that he jumped every time the toaster went ding! and that he checked over both shoulders after to make sure that no one saw. for two weeks, you tuned into his streams. for two weeks, you had let yourself succumb to the building desire you'd pushed down until you were full, spilling over. and tonight, you would do it again.

you slipped your headphones over your ears, using them now to keep your laptop's noise in rather than to keep euijoo's noise out. the shame stirred in your chest, barely noticeable but still there, as you pulled up his page and waited. you could hear him in the kitchen, filling a glass with water and slamming the cabinet a bit too harshly for the hour. but you didn't expect any less from him. the floor creaked with every step he took to his room, the hinge squeaking as he opened and closed the door behind him. you could hear him opening drawers and pushing them closed. he flipped his light switch off, and you kicked yourself at the way your heart began to thrum in your chest, how quickly your finger clicked to refresh the page.

and when user byunny finally went live, you felt every part of your body that had once been aflame run cold, the wet of your veins shattering like icicles tossed upon packed snow. you were sure you gasped out loud, mouth hanging open, at the sight before you. euijoo's streams were usually slow, starting with a teasing, casual segment that showcased the growing bulge in whatever pants he had decided to wear. sometimes, they were sweatpants; sometimes, they were printed pajamas; always, they looked damn good on him. tonight, however, there was no teasing, no slow-paced stroking or conversation. tonight, there was no clothing at all except the brightly colored panties crumpled in his fist.

"what the fuck," you mumbled to yourself, leaning in closer to the screen to examine the baby blue fabric, stark against the angry red tip of his cock. the friction was audible, layered beneath his desperate panting. it seemed like all you could do was mutter the phrase over and over to yourself as your poor, confused body decided whether to be pissed. you couldn't deny the warmth that pooled between your legs, just as you couldn't deny the burn in your cheeks as you realized he was broadcasting your underwear to all of his viewers. the heat everywhere amplified as you thought about him rummaging through your drawers, picking through pair after pair in search of those specifically. or did he get them from your laundry, which he so graciously offered to move and then fold, unprompted?

surely, it was all coincidence. it had to be a gimmick, an easy way to satisfy another viewer's request. you'd seen him try all kinds of weird things in just the short time you'd been watching. one viewer asked him to hold a spoon while he jacked off and scoop up his cum with it after. another asked him to narrate every action and voice every thought he had, and the next night wanted him silent. every wish was fulfilled without any argument, any question; his obedience was one of his favored traits among his viewers. so, it made sense to think that someone asked him to get off with a pair of underwear, and it made sense that he had snuck a pair of yours to do so. it didn't have to mean anything.

"wish this was your pussy instead of your panties- fuck," euijoo groaned, twisting the material tighter between his palm and his skin. your mouth was somehow drier than sand, throat closing despite the drool that threatened to spill from the corners of your mouth at the way the thick vein on the underside of his cock gleamed in the harsh light from his screen. the angle was the same every time, highlighting the curve of his waist around the contracting muscles of his stomach. he choked out a desperate sound, "wish it was you- wish i was, fuck, grinding my cock against your ass until i couldn't take it anymore."

was he talking about you? few other explanations held up when you looked at the facts. he was fucking your panties— who else would he be talking about? an idea flickered, arrived in a flash and left even quicker: you would knock, once, on the wall. you would knock, once, on the same wall that drove you to insanity because of just how thin it really was. realistically, he probably could have heard the blankets rustling as you lifted your arm. he could have heard the grinding of your bones in your hand as you balled your fingers into a fist. he most definitely heard the solid, singular knock that reverberated, first, through your room. it was absolute, like the final placement of an empty mug on a coaster. in your headphones, you heard the knock again, about four seconds later. if nothing else, he would take it as a noise complaint, but the way his hand slowed, the way he inhaled like it hurt, told you that euijoo took the knock exactly as you intended— an answer.

euijoo released his breath as a dry, low chuckle. "are you watching, princess?" he asked, "i kind of thought you might be, but i wasn't sure." his voice was deeper than usual, rough like pavement, and it went straight through you. the pet name, the suspicion, the way he knew what you were up to the whole time and didn't change a thing about his routine. it was shameless, confident. euijoo adjusted the panties around him, flattening the soft cotton against the length of him and letting the lace trim decorate the top of his hand. "i hope you dont mind that i borrowed these. they peek out of the top of your jeans sometimes and drive me fucking crazy." he slid his hand up and down, slowly, bunching the material with every stroke, "do you do that on purpose? knock once for yes."

to everyone else, it had to have appeared scripted. perverted roommate gets caught by other, equally perverted roommate. it was all so real, all so shocking to you; were you that oblivious? had you been too distracted by how loud and hot he was to notice that he was distracted by you, too? how many times had euijoo watched you scurry from the shower to your room, peering through the crack in his door as you held your towel up with one hand? you'd done several things to try for his attention, of course, like wearing low-cut tops when your friends went out together, sitting next to him in the backseat and asking him so, so sweetly to buckle your seatbelt for you. but none of that seemed to affect him as much as the cheap, blue panties that sat just a bit too high for your jeans. you squeezed your thighs closer together, picturing his eyes lingering on your hips every time you bent over, rummaging through the fridge for a drink or untying your shoes.

you knocked once.

"fuck, i knew it," euijoo stifled a groan, "knew you weren't as innocent as you seemed. you wouldn't be watching me if that were the case, would you?" you could hear the smirk in his voice, "wouldn't be touching yourself to me, either— timing your orgasms with mine. too fucking sweet." your chest would surely be bruised from how hard your heart was beating, leaping forward and bouncing back off your ribs in erratic jolts. euijoo whispered, like it was a secret, only meant for you, "i can hear you, too. did you know that, doll? knock."

this time, you knocked twice for no. you were nowhere near as loud as he was, even going so far as to stuff your mouth with your shirt to ensure that you were more than silent. when he heard your knocks, he squeezed his long, slender fingers around the base of his cock, jerking his hips up involuntarily.

euijoo grunted, then hummed, "mhm, i can hear every pretty little sigh, every delicious moan. like music, baby. better than fucking music. to know im helping you feel good, so good you cant even look at me the next day— fuck." he gulped down any restraint he might have had, preparing to take a leap that would either result in you in his bed or him looking for a new place to live. "i wish you were here right now, fisting my cock for me," he said, "want you to make me come, baby. would you like that, too? i'm sure my friends here wouldn't mind."

the next knock wasn't on his wall but on his door, just as you pushed it open with a shaking hand. you weren't sure what came over you, what posessed your body and carried you from your bed to his room. the version of you that texted euijoo four months ago, offering him the spare room, would have never imagined that you'd have ended up here. as the door swung open, you took your first look at his bedroom. the door was always closed, even when he was out of the apartment, taunting you like a locked chest packed full of antique treasures and baubles. even in the dim lighting, his walls were charming, decorated with posters and photos. his shelves were lined with collectibles and keepsakes. every inch of space was uniquely him, aside from the corner of the room captured by the webcam on his laptop, which was undistinguishable from any other white wall and bed with plain sheets in the world. the only thing that stood out was euijoo himself, propped up on pillows to achieve that perfect angle you'd grown so fond of.

this angle was better.

this angle, peering down at him from your place in the doorway, revealed everything you'd been deprived of through the screen. his hair was disheveled, beads of sweat bunching the ends of his bangs into jagged points that stuck out every which way against the flushed skin of his forehead. his shirt had been discarded and left in a crumpled heap on the floor next to his bed, leaving his shoulders and neck to be carved by the harsh shadows from the computer's artificial lighting. the sheen on his chest traveled all the way to the top of his hips, where he was still stroking himself in slow, languid motions, as though he were trying really hard to drag this whole situation out.

"hi, pretty," euijoo smiled, and you could see it now, so sweet, so different from the lewd scene before you, "come here. dont be shy."

you crossed the room, timidly, and closed the distance between you, swallowing your nerves like two tough, chalky pills. he tracked your every move with heavy-lidded, dark eyes. the air was thick, hot; it felt like swimming, like being boiled alive. euijoo's skin was hot, too, as you approached him on the bed and his left hand reached out to brush your arm, to coax you closer. your knees hit the side of the mattress, slightly shaking the camera, which your eyes refused to leave. you could see your shadow cast over him, suddenly aware that there was still an audience, that just because you closed your laptop to come finish the job, the hundreds of other people didn't. in fact, they tuned in, closer, more intently. you were part of the show, now, and it made your throat feel impossibly drier.

"don't worry about them," euijoo reassured you, drawing soft circles on the skin of your upper arm, "pretend they're not there. just you and me, yeah?" you wished it could have been. so badly, you wanted to be alone with him, to have this moment all to yourself. this was as good as it was going to get, at least for now.

you nodded and repeated, "just you and me," as you crawled up into his bed, your knees sinking into the plush material of the mattress. your heart sank, too, all the way to the bottom of your stomach where it pumped all the blood directly to your core.

"there you go," euijoo praised, and you visibly relaxed, "i'm all yours, baby. touch me however you want, but you know how i like it."

and then you were touching him, your hand replacing his around the base of his throbbing cock, discarding the panties altogether. you'd done nothing but touch your underwear for weeks. you wanted to feel him. euijoo hissed as the cool skin of your fingers settled on him, setting him ablaze with a scorching sensitivity. the first real contact of skin on skin, of your palm dragging aching swipes down his twitching cock. his hips lifted as your thumb smeared the pearly beads of his arousal with every stroke. your touch was gentle, but your pace was not.

"fuck, just like that," he sighed, leaning back, hands threading into the loose sheets, "feels so good."

slowly, his persona began to crumble, chipping away more and more with every jerk of your wrist, until he was putty beneath you. until he was a perfect puddle, bucking up helplessly into your hand. it felt, for a second, like it really was just the two of you. until you caught a glimpse of your reflection in the screen, and your attention flickered from watching the blissful crease in his brow deepen and smooth to the frantic, desperate motion of your hand, blurred by the stream's lag. it melted the two of you into one, a muddled and pixelated form identified as human only by the sounds euijoo was unable to hold back the closer you brought him to the edge. whines, whimpers— all softer, more raw, than the exaggerated moans and grunts he put on for the sake of his audience.

with your hand wrapped around him, he sounded like he was yours.

"i'm close," euijoo blindly pawed at the fabric of your shorts, the inner seam undoubtedly soaked, "i was close before you even started, close just thinking about you."

there was something still a little unnerving about speaking, if not because of the hundreds of viewers then because you didn't want to slip up and say something wrong, something stupid. you were distracted by the possibility of saying his name, of giving away his identity by accident and ruining everything. so, you settled for eye contact, for dragging your nails down his side and watching as the subtle red welts followed in their wake. you settled for a quiet intimacy as his plush lips fell open and you shared the same breath.

all euijoo could manage was a rushed warning, a choked, "coming-" before his hips rolled one final time into your hand, his release spurting out and over in hot streams. a constant pulse of pleasure racked through his body as you worked him, slowly, milking every last drop until he was whining, doing everything he could to not chant your name like a prayer.

you'd have taken this over a turkey sandwich any day.

your hand, covered in his cum, stilled at the base of his still twitching, sensitive cock. euijoo, with his chest still heaving, reached over and gently wiped the back of your palm with familiar soft, blue fabric. that same gentleness you'd used in the kitchen weeks ago, when he had cut his finger helping you open your package and you'd smoothed the bandage over his skin, was staring right back at you, cheeks flushed and forehead sticky with sweat.

you were panting, too, like you'd done anything but ruin the underwear you were currently wearing. everything happened so fast, so suddenly that it felt like a dream, like you were sleepwalking. it was the same dream you'd drank herbal teas and massaged pressure points to avoid having every night, the one where you and euijoo ended up in a puddle of sweat. only you were awake, now, fully drunk on the scent of him, the sound of him.

and the look of him, just like the audience, which you were now acutely aware of as euijoo carefully wiped away the last of his release from your skin.

euijoo motioned vaguely toward the laptop with a nod, a confident and aimless tip of his head, "end it," he said and, with an arrogant, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his bitten lips, added "unless you want them to watch me fuck you senseless."

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

@wenomakiluvr @guliexe @cheolscherries1812 @jungwonsgff @heesoulnotes

@kjjupilled @xionvlog @ikigaijo @0wisewisdoom @minhosimthings

@luperque @ikeuholica @nichozzystuffs @s3ungh4nsgf @zzniya

@livelaughloveseventeen @purrplegyuu @yuuniversezx @yukisroom97 @ateez-atiny380

@sunoosun00 @tayl82 @bubbletsworld @iluvujo @euijoo1sidechick

Sub!b!jake who acts like the dominant one in your relationship while everyone else is there, but really, the both of you know who gives in first when between the sheets.

Sub!bf!jake who waits for everyone to leave before begging you to go down on him, having a clear, set mind in whether he wants to make love or fuck- never an in between.

Sub!bf!jake who almost always has sore knees, covered in bruises and always causing him pain. Everyone else thinks it's just the amount of sports he does- but really, it's the amount of times he drops to his knees and begs you to have sex with him like the yearning puppy he is.

Sub!bf!jake who, despite being a totally submissive partner, is constantly recognised as the dominant one because of his strong, manly physique and extensive possessiveness over you.

Sub!bf!jake who almost always cums untouched when he eats you out, practically making out with your pussy, nose breathing in your scent deeply as his tongue and fingers enter you, smiling and grazing all those sensitive spots you love him to touch.

Sub!bf!jake who swears he needs to make you cum at least three times every session before he's truly satisfied, twice on his cock and once from his mouth- sometimes more if you let him.

Sub!bf!jake who's favourite position is 69 because he gets to feel your mouth on his girth and be nose deep into your pussy. His hands land gently on your ass every time, forcing you to sit down on his face fully- not even a slight care about suffocating because (in his words) he'll "die a happy and satisfied man" around your opening.

Sub!bf!jake loves when you ride him, specifically in cowgirl because he believes that your face is a sight no angels could ever compare to. He doesn't enjoy you bouncing on his crotch as much as he enjoys you grinding on his lap, but he would take it any day.

Sub!bf!jake gets off massively to you calling him 'good boy' or 'your good puppy' specifically because he does everything for you and he wouldn't be able to finish properly during sex if you haven't called him any of those or something of the sort.

Sub!bf!jake who keeps his hair on the longer side to please you because you mentioned once that you adored the feeling of threading your fingers through it when he ate you out. (yearner!jake come here 😛)

Sub!bf!jake who is LOUD. Sometimes it's not even moaning, it's just whine, after whine, after whine. He whimpers specifically when you give him head, his mouth beginning with deep, ragged breaths before turning into full on pornstar-worthy sounds escaping his lips.

-"P-plea- please," he hiccups, eyes screwed shut as he desperately thrashes around in the silk restraints you tied him to the bed post with.

-"Please what, pretty boy?" you asked teasingly after pulling off his length with a wet pop, "be specific, baby, what do you want?"-"I need to-" he breathes in sharply as you lick a long, wet stripe on the underside of his cock, then let's out a loud whine while his hips buck up until your hand violently, "n-need to b-be inside you w-when I cum, ah!"

-He cries out when you sit with your knees bracketing his hips and your folds brushing against the angry red tip of his still-painfully-hard cock, before he louts out a a deliciously loud moan at the feeling of you sinking down on him.

Sub!bf!jake who is disgustingly desperate when it comes to having sex, partly because you've either edged him till he cries or teased him all day long with skimpy clothing and dirty talk.

Sub!bf!jake who's favourite (and definitely most used) sentence is "Please, mommy, I'll do anything." He enjoys saying it most when you're grinding sweetly against him with his cock balls deep inside you- too horny to tease.

Sub!bf!jake who receives noise complaints from the neighbours almost every morning because you both have sex pretty much every night- headboard slamming against the wall with every jerky movement from him that your grinding does. Which brings me to my next point...

Sub!bf!jake who has INSANE stamina, when I tell you this man is fully prepared to go for round ten while you tried to fall asleep after round three. Sometimes you just let him rut desperately against you while you sleep, too tired to do anything but cock warm him.

Sub!bf!jake who can't choose between getting off better to degradation or praise more, his cock leaking with precum and staining his boxers at the thought of both and/or either.

Sub!bf!jake who almost always gives clumsy but dangerously attentive aftercare even if he is the one that is going to ache the most from pleasure the next morning. Every so often though, you wash his hair in the bath, sitting in the edge of the tub, and give him a massage after longer sessions.

The Kisses Are Either Disgustingly Wet or Disgustingly Perfect.

Jake does not kiss you normally. Ever.

He'll grab your face with both hands, thumbs pressing into your cheeks, nose brushing yours—like he’s about to whisper something sweet— And then he sticks his tongue out.

Flat. Slow. Holding it out for you like a challenge.

"You ready for your kiss?"

You narrow your eyes. "If you kiss me like a normal person, yes."

He smirks. "Define normal."

"JAKE."

And then he dives in.

Sloppy. Messy. Way too much tongue.

He moans loudly into your mouth, just to be annoying. Tilts his head, deepens the kiss, licks into you like he’s savoring a meal.

He’s so aggressive with it. He sucks on your bottom lip, licks over your teeth, bites just to hear you whimper.

You try to pull away for air. He chases your mouth.

When you finally shove him back, panting, he looks so fucking smug.

You’re breathless. Dizzy. Lightheaded.

“Jake,” you gasp, wiping your mouth.

He just licks his lips and says, “Bet you wanna do it again.”

He’s right.

The Teenage Horny Boy Innuendos.

Jake talks with his tongue. He doesn’t even realize it.

Every time he makes a dirty joke, his tongue moves. Flicks against his teeth. Runs over his lips. Sticks out slightly, flat, teasing.

Like it’s his instinct.

Like he can’t talk about sex without getting his mouth involved.

"You wanna ride?" he asks, spinning his car keys around his finger. He tilts his head, grinning, biting his tongue between his teeth.

"You mean in the car, right?" you deadpan.

Jake just smirks and slowly drags his tongue over his bottom lip.

"Sure."

OH MY GOD.

Or when he watches you eat something messy—an ice cream cone, a lollipop, a spoonful of whipped cream— He just stares. Licking his lips, mouth slightly open, tongue flicking out absently.

When you catch him? He just winks and says, "Thinking about dessert."

Fucking menace.

The Oral Fixation

Jake is obsessed with tasting you.

Not just sexually—all the time.

He nuzzles into your neck, licks a stripe up the side just to hear you yelp. He kisses your bare shoulder, then bites it gently, soothing it with his tongue. He runs his lips over your wrist, presses an open-mouthed kiss, sucks lightly, then does it again just to see your face scrunch up.

If you’re ever laying in bed together, you’re not even surprised when you feel his mouth on your knee. Or your collarbone. Or the swell of your chest.

It’s constant. His lips are always somewhere. He says it’s comforting. You say it’s excessive. He grins and mumbles against your skin, "Then stop tasting so fucking good."

When he’s not kissing you, he’s chewing on something—his lip, his straw, his fingers.

"Jake, do you need a chew toy?" He just grins, sticking his tongue out. "Got one already."

He means you.

He’ll lap at your skin until it’s warm and damp. Leave little love bites that he traces with his tongue like he’s sealing the mark in place. And if you so much as twitch?

“Sensitive today, huh? Maybe I should keep licking till you get used to it.”

But When It’s Between Your Legs?

Jake is filthy with it.

He eats pussy like it’s his favorite meal, his full-time job, his Olympic sport.

His mouth is messy. Spit everywhere. Tongue working in slow, obscene drags from your entrance to your clit. He makes the most disgusting slurping sounds on purpose.

He’ll spread you open with both hands, stare for a second, then moan, “Fucking perfect.”

He dives in.

Groaning, licking, sucking your clit into his mouth until your legs shake.

He flattens his tongue against you and shakes his head like a dog in heat. He tongues your hole with long, filthy strokes until you’re crying. He keeps two fingers pumping in and curling hard, hitting that spot so perfectly it makes you choke.

He pulls back just to catch his breath, spit glistening on his lips. “You’re soaking me. What do you want me to do about it?”

You whimper. He smiles.

“Better clean you up again, huh?”

He goes back to work. Doesn’t stop until you cum once. Then twice. Then again because he says your thighs still haven’t stopped shaking.

When he finally climbs up your body, his chin is dripping.

Your lovely boyfriend quickly messaged you to say he was coming over to your apartment tonight. The text made you happy, knowing you would get to spend some quality time with him before he left for a whole month. You were already going to miss him so much.

After reading his message, you went to the bathroom to freshen up and put on his favorite white hoodie—which happened to be one of the missing pieces he was looking for. You had borrowed it right after he finished his Weverse Live that day. He had looked so hot with that matching green cap and those sexy specs resting on his big, pointy nose. Ahem. As a sweet and generous boyfriend, he had willingly let you borrow it.

Hearing a soft knock, you immediately ran to the doorway. You opened it to find your boyfriend smiling warmly, holding a box of pepperoni pizza and buffalo wings—your absolute favorite couple food. You didn't even have to tell him what you wanted. Jake always brought your favorites without being asked. You loved him so much.

“Hello, babe! I brought some snacks for tonight, our favorite,” he said, pouting cutely.

You desperately wanted to kiss those pouty lips of his. He was just so kissable.

“Thank you for this, babe! I miss you so much already, and I’m going to miss you even more,” you said as you took the food from his hands, inviting him inside.

Jake immediately handed the food over and pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead, making your heart flutter. He followed you into the apartment, but his eyes instantly wandered to you wearing the white hoodie he had been searching for. Thinking about the dozen other hoodies you had borrowed, he began to re-think his life decisions, wondering how he could ask for them back for his tour without offending you.

Poor Jakey.

Soon, the two of you were eating in the living room while watching their Sleep En Dive in Melbourne episode. Both of you were laughing so hard your stomachs hurt because of the members' humor. Your boyfriend was particularly mischievous in this episode. He looked adorable with his bare face, fluffy hair, and dazed eyes.

While you were laughing, Jake gently tapped your shoulder, causing you to turn to him with a confused expression.

“What is it?” you asked.

“U-uh, about my hoodies?” Jake asked nervously.

“What about your hoodies, babe?” you questioned, more curious this time.

“I'm packing my clothes for next week, and I just wanted to ask nicely if I could get a few of my hoodies back?” Jake asked, flashing his best puppy eyes and pouting at the very end of his sentence.

“Of course! You can have them back, babe. Besides, they're your hoodies anyway, not mine,” you assured him with a warm smile.

“Aren't you mad?” Jake asked, blinking.

“No? Why would I be mad? It's your clothing,” you answered softly.

“I love you, babe!” he said, leaning in for a quick, sudden kiss that took you completely by surprise.

“Come on! Let's go to my room and get them for you.” you said.

The two of you cleaned up the food boxes and turned off the television before heading to your bedroom. As you entered, Jake sat down on your bed, patiently waiting as you opened your closet to retrieve his clothes.

Jake couldn't help but admire you quietly. He watched how his favorite hoodie rode up your torso whenever you reached for the upper shelves where the rest of his clothes were stored. His eyes trailed down to your tiny lace shorts every time you bent over to check the lower shelves.

Jake bit his lower lip, shamelessly checking you out. His mind was no longer on his missing hoodies.

He just wanted you right now.

Standing up, he walked over and stepped up right behind you. He gently wrapped his arms around your waist, startling you slightly. He began caressing your hips, slowly moving his hands up and down your sides.

“Hi, babe,” he murmured. His voice was low, deep, and completely intoxicating.

“Hello to you, too. What do you need?” you asked flirtatiously, leaning back against him.

“You, right now.” He gently kissed the nape of your neck, slowly pressing wet, warm kisses along the left side of your throat, making you giggle from the tingling sensation.

“Jake ahh–… I want you, too,” you whispered, closing your eyes to focus entirely on his touch.

“As you wish, babe.” Jake smiled against your skin, feeling like he had just won the lottery.

He stopped kissing your neck and slowly spun you around to face him. He gripped the hem of the hoodie and gently began pulling it upward.

“Hands up for me,” Jake ordered softly, and you quickly raised your arms.

“What a beautiful sight. Is this all for me?” he breathed out, his eyes darkening with hunger. 

He couldn't take his gaze off your figure. No bra, your boobs were flushed and bounced sexily after he removed his hoodie off from you and just those tiny, black lace shorts. Jake hates to admit that he was painfully hard right now. It was as if some ancient Greek artist had crafted and sculpted every single inch of your curves. He loved every part of your body, from head to toe.

“This is all for you, Jake. Only for you,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down into a bold kiss.

Jake returned the kiss with the exact same hunger. He slid his tongue into your mouth, tasting you deeply as the lewd, breathless sounds of your make-out session echoed in the quiet bedroom. He cupped your right breast and gently caressed it as if it was some stress ball.

After a few intense moments, Jake finally pulled back just a fraction, resting his forehead against yours.

“You know, babe, you don't even need my hoodies anymore,” Jake whispered, a smirk playing on his lips. “Because I can warm you up much better than any fabric can.”

Damn, he was right. Jake definitely warms you up better than any hoodie ever could. You feel yourself growing wetter at the thought of it.

Before you could even formulate a spoken reply, Jake’s smirk widened. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your tiny lace shorts, slowly guiding them down your thighs. You stepped out of them effortlessly, leaving nothing between the two of you but the electric heat radiating from his body.

He didn’t waste another second, pulling you into a warm, tight embrace that made your heart race. Jake held you close, his chin resting on the top of your head as you stood together in the quiet room.

"Jake,” you whispered, resting your hands against his chest.

"I'm going to miss this so much while I'm away," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes tracing every detail of your face, memorizing the moment for the long month ahead.  "I'm going to miss being right here with you." He added.

"Then let's make the most of the time we have left," you replied softly, as you gently pushed him to tugged his hoodie off too. Showing his toned chiseled abs that he always shows off to Engene’s in their concerts.

You were drooling. Also down there.

He crashed his lips against yours, exploring each other's mouth once again. As the night deepened, the missing hoodies scattered across the room were forgotten. The both of you tangled nakedly on your bed after the intense sex you had. Jake kept his promise to make the goodbye special, leaving you with happy memories to last until he finally returned home.

note: my first ever smut! im lowkey not satisfied with it huhuhu. forgive this noob author :(( btw, thanks for reading!! mwahh <333

"Work ran over."

"You're not eating enough."

"I had lunch."

"You had a protein bar at 2 PM. That's not lunch."

You sigh, too tired to argue. "Jake, I'm really not in the mood for-"

He stands up. You stop talking.

He crosses the room in three strides. Doesn't stop until he's chest to chest with you, close enough that you have to tilt your head back to look at him. Close enough to smell him cedar and sweat and something darker underneath, something that makes your stomach flip.

"You're not in the mood for what?" he asks quietly.

His hand comes up. His knuckles brush your jaw.

"To fight," you manage.

"I don't want to fight." His thumb traces your lower lip. "I want to take care of you. But you won't let me unless I make you."

"Make me?"

He tilts his head. That small, predatory motion you've learned to recognize. "Yeah."

And then he drops to his knees.

Your breath catches. He's done this before gone down on you a hundred times, a thousand. But never like this. Never with that look in his eyes, like he's already gone, like he's been thinking about this all day and he's about to come apart before he even touches you.

"Jake what are you-"

"Shut up."

His hands slide up your calves. Your knees. Your thighs. He pushes your skirt up around your hips and hooks his fingers in the waistband of your panties.

"I've been thinking about this since you left this morning," he says, pulling them down. "Couldn't focus. Couldn't eat. Just kept smelling you on the pillow and losing my mind."

"You're being dramatic."

"I came twice in the shower thinking about doing this."

Your mouth falls open. "You what?"

He doesn't answer. He's too busy looking at you specifically at the wet spot already soaking through your panties, at the way your thighs are shaking even though he hasn't done anything yet.

"Jesus," he breathes. "You're already soaked."

"You're the one who came twice in the-"

He buries his face between your legs.

Not slowly. Not teasing. He just dives in like he's starving, his tongue flat against you, his nose pressing into your clit, his hands gripping your thighs so hard you know there will be bruises tomorrow.

You gasp. Your hands fly to his hair. He moans, the vibration shooting straight through you and his hips jerk against nothing.

He's humping the air like a dog in heat. You can see it from here, the way his sweatpants are tented, the way he's grinding down against nothing because he can't help himself. He hasn't even touched his own cock and he's already thrusting into empty air like he's fucking something.

"Jake, hmm your mm-"

"Don't care." His mouth is muffled against you. "Don't fucking care. Just need to taste you. Need you to cum on my face. Need it so bad I can't think."

He licks into you like he's trying to drink you. His tongue curls, presses, flicks. He finds your clit and sucks gentle at first, then harder, then so hard you see start to see stars.

Your knees buckle. He catches you, holds you up but doesn't stop.

"Please," he whimpers against you.

Jake doesn't whimper. Jake growls. Jake commands. But right now, on his knees with your thighs around his ears, he's whimpering like a puppy.

"Please what?" you gasp.

"Please cum. Please. I need to feel it. I need you to-" His hips buck again, harder this time. A wet spot is spreading through his sweatpants. "I'm so close and you haven't even touched me and I can't- I can't hold it-"

"You're going to cum untouched?"

"I'm so fucked, this is all your fault. I keep thinking about this. Please. Please please please-"

He's begging without even knowing what exactly he's begging for. His nose is running. His eyes are wet. He looks wrecked and he's barely started.

You tug at his hair. He moans, high and desperate, and his whole body shudders.

"Then cum," you say. "Cum for me, show me how good I make you feel."

"Baby call me a- mm fuck please say it need it-."

"Say what?" You tease

"Fuck don't be like that- please tell me I'm a good- I'm a good-."

"You're my good pup." You finish for him.

He whines. He moans. He sobs. And then he cums.

You watch it happen. His eyes roll back. His mouth goes slack against you. His hips stutter into the air once, twice, three times and then his whole body locks up, every muscle going tight at once, and you feel his cock twitching inside his sweatpants, pulsing, spilling.

He's cumming untouched. For the third time today. Just from the thought of you and eating you out.

His moan is broken. Pathetic. Yet so perfect.

He doesn't stop.

Even as he's shaking through the aftershocks, his tongue keeps moving. Keeps licking. Keeps sucking. He's drunk on you, high on your taste, and nothing not even his own orgasm is going to pull him away.

"Fuck," you breathe. "Jake. Jake, that's-"

He doubles down.

His hands leave your thighs and wrap around your ass, pulling you closer, grinding your cunt against his face like he's trying to crawl inside you. His nose keeps bumping against your clit with every thrust of his tongue. He's messy no pattern, no rhythm, just desperate, sloppy need.

You cum with a shout. Your whole body gives out. He drinks every drop, moaning like it's the best thing he's ever tasted, and his hips jerk again dry this time, nothing left, but he keeps thrusting anyway.

When you finally stop shaking, he pulls back just enough to look up at you.

His face is wrecked. Chin wet. Nose wet. Eyes blown so wide and chest heaving. There's a dark patch on his sweatpants, spreading from his crotch down his thigh.

"Again," he says.

"What?"

"Again." He's already lowering his mouth back to you. "I can still taste you. Need more. Need you to cum again. Please. I'll be good. I'll be so good. Just let me-"

"Jake, you just came in your pants."

"So?"

He says it like it's irrelevant. Like his own pleasure doesn't matter. Like the only thing that exists in this world is your cunt and his mouth.

He licks up the inside of your thigh. Bites gently. Sucks a mark into the soft flesh.

"Please," he whispers against your skin. "One more time. Just one more. I'll beg. I'll do anything. I'll-"

You pull him up by his ears.

He whines loud and embarrassingly but he follows. You drag him to the bed and push him down onto his back. His sweatpants are soaked through. His cock is still half hard, twitching against his stomach, leaking the last few drops of his third orgasm.

"Take these off," you say.

He scrambles to obey. Nearly falls off the bed in a rush. Gets stuck with one leg in and one leg out and whimpers in frustration until you help him.

Then he's naked beneath you. His cock is flushed dark red, still wet, still twitching. His thighs are slick with his own cum. His eyes are blown out. His ears are pinned back.

And his eyes are begging.

"Please," he says. "Please, baby. Need you. Need to be inside you. I'll die. I'll actually die if you don't-"

"Roll over."

He blinks. "What?"

"On your stomach. Now."

He moves so fast he nearly falls off the bed again. Ends up on his belly, face pressed into the pillow, ass in the air like he's presenting.

You've never seen him like this. Never seen him so desperate, so obedient, so ready to take whatever you give him.

You straddle the backs of his thighs. He shudders.

"You want to be inside me?" you ask.

"Yes. God, yes. Please."

"You want to feel how wet you made me?"

"Pleasepleaseplease"

You reach between his legs and wrap your hand around his cock.

He screams.

Not a moan. Not a groan. A full throated scream, muffled by the pillow, his whole body arching off the bed. He's so sensitive, so overstimulated, so completely gone that the barest touch makes him see god.

"Shh," you say, stroking him once. Twice. He's dripping, slick with his own cum, and the sound is obscene. "I thought you wanted to be inside me."

"I do. I do. But if you keep touching me I'm going to cum again and I want- I need-"

"You need what?"

He turns his head just enough to look at you. His face is tear streaked. His lips are swollen from eating you out. And nose still glistening from your slick.

He looks completely destroyed. And he's never been more beautiful.

"I need to be inside you when I cum," he says, voice breaking. "Please. I want to feel you around me. I want to fill you up. I want to watch it drip out of you and then I want to lick it up and then I want to do it again and again and again until I can't anymore."

You stare at him.

"Jake."

"What?"

"You're disgusting."

"Fuck I know." He doesn't sound sorry. "Please."

"Flip over"

He flips over in no time and you hover over him to line him up. He's shaking so hard you have to use both hands. His cock presses against your entrance just the tip, just barely and he makes a sound like a dying animal.

"Look at me," you say.

He forces his eyes open.

You sink down.

He cums instantly.

No thrust. No movement. Just the heat of you, the tightness of you, the wet slide of you taking him in and he shatters.

His whole body weakens. His cock jerks inside you, pumping hot and thick, filling you before you've even taken him all the way. His mouth is open in a silent scream. His hands fist the sheets. His ears flatten completely against his head.

He's crying. Actual tears, streaming down his face, soaking the pillow.

And he's still cumming.

It keeps going. Pulse after pulse after pulse. You've never seen anything like it. He just keeps spilling, keeps shaking, keeps whimpering your name like a prayer.

When he finally stops, he goes limp. Completely limp. His face is pressed into the pillow. His breath comes in wet, hitching gasps.

You haven't moved. You're still only halfway down his cock.

"Jake."

No response.

"Jake."

He mumbles something into the pillow. You can't understand it.

You lift off him slowly. His cock slips out, soft now, and a rush of his cum follows dripping down your thighs, pooling on his lower back.

He doesn't move.

His eyes are glassy. His face is a mess of tears and drool and your slick. His lips are moving, forming words you can't hear.

You lean down.

"...love you," he's whispering. Over and over. "Love you love you love you. M'sorry. M'sorry I couldn't last. M'sorry I'm like this. Love you. Love you so much. Please don't leave. Please don't-"

"Jake."

He blinks up at you.

"I'm not going anywhere."

More tears spill down his cheeks. His arms come up weak, shaking and wrap around your waist. He pulls you down on top of him, not caring that you're both sticky, both soaked, both completely wrecked.

"You wreck me," he says into your hair. "You know that? You fucking wreck me."

"Thats good Jakey."

He laughs. It turns into a sob halfway through.

You stay like that for a long time. Him holding you, you holding him, his sitting on both of your skin. His breathing slowly evens out. His heart stops hammering against his ribs.

Eventually, he speaks.

"I meant what I said."

"About what?"

"About doing it again. And again. And again."

You lift your head. Look at him.

He looks wrecked. Ruined. Completely, utterly destroyed. And he's already getting hard again.

"Again?" you say.

His hips twitch against you. His cock presses against your thigh soft at first, then firmer, then fully hard in the span of a few seconds.

"Ughhh I told you," he says, voice rough. "You wreck me."

He rolls you onto your back. Settles between your thighs. Presses his forehead to yours.

"I'm going to be inside you for the rest of the night," he says quietly. "And when the sun comes up, I'm going to make you breakfast. And then I'm going to bend you over the kitchen counter and do it again."

"Hmm that's ambitious."

He kisses you. Soft. Tender. Completely at odds with the way his hips are already pressing against you, already seeking entrance.

"For you?" He pulls back just enough to look at you. His eyes are still wet. His lips are still swollen. His ears are still pinned back, soft and submissive and so fucking endearing you want to bite them.

"For you," he says, "I'll do anything."

He pushes inside you.

And he doesn't stop until the sun comes up.

"I have a surprise for you."

"Oh?" Nico perked up at that. He loved showering you with gifts, and getting gifts back made him smile till his cheeks ached. "You've already given me so much."

Biting your lip, you could feel heat filling your face with what you were about to say. "Remember when I went to the doctor two months ago?"

Nico's smile dropped into a frown, afraid for your health. "Yeah. Everything okay?"

"Everything's perfect," you quickly told him, putting your hand on his arm. "I didn't tell you this, but... I asked her for birth control pills."

His eyes went wide. "You did?"

You nodded. "I started taking them, because it needs a few weeks to be effective. That's why my period was kinda weird last time. And, well... we're good to go."

"Good to go where?"

You laughed quietly and ran a hand through your hair. Then, you leaned in close and whispered for his ears only, "Without condoms, Nico."

Nico's brain stopped working. It was suddenly overloaded with thoughts of your perfect sex wrapping around his hard cock with nothing in between, and Nico found himself imagining what it would feel like to finish inside you and fill you with his cum.

Fuck, that idea alone had Nico's dick twitching in his pants.

You fought a giggle at his expense. Your boyfriend looked dumbstruck.

In the past year you'd been dating, Nico had never once complained about wearing condoms and never pressured you about birth control. He told you that was completely your choice if you wanted to look into other options, but he would always glove up before entering.

"Thank you for waiting to tell me this at the end of dinner," Nico said weakly, sipping his drink to clear his suddenly dry throat. "I literally can't think of anything else right now."

You chuckled and sank a little closer to him to sigh, "Me neither."

Nico turned toward you and said in a rush, "You didn't have to do this for me. If it's giving you any bad side effects or anything..."

"Nico," you stopped him, loving him a little more in that moment if that was possible. "I want this too."

"Okay." Your boyfriend let out a breath and relaxed. He met your eyes and his cheeks were a little rosy, and he smiled bashfully when he realized you could see right through him.

You were delighted when he kissed your cheek and wrapped his arm around your waist, and whispered, "Ready to get out of here?"

Needless to say, you couldn't wait.

There was a warm tension in the car as Nico drove home, his hand staying possessively on your thigh. Your heart was pounding; the entire day seemed to have been leading to the night. You felt the same way you did after an hour of teasing and foreplay with Nico.

You felt your heart pick up speed again when you stepped into the apartment you shared with your boyfriend. No sooner had you stepped out of your shoes, Nico molded himself to your back, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in your neck. You ran your hands over his firm arms, melting into his touch.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

Nico turned you around to face him and kissed you. The kisses started to build, coming hotter and faster. You could taste Nico's hunger.

He pawed at your hips, gripping handfuls of your dress, and broke from the kiss to tease, "This is the sexiest thing you've ever worn. I almost passed out when I saw you."

You laughed darkly against his lips and retorted, "Wait till you see what's underneath."

Nico made a noise and smashed his lips on yours again.

You let him steer you toward the bedroom, his tongue in your mouth and his hands all over your body. You carded your fingers into his hair and held on tight, like he was the only thing keeping you sane.

"I want you so bad," you purred, folding into him and feeling his hard cock in his pants.

"You can have me whenever you want," Nico said without missing a beat, leading you over to the bed and surprising you when he didn't shove you onto it like he usually did.

Shivers raced up your spine when Nico slowly stripped you out of your dress like he was unwrapping his gift. When the dress fell to a pile at your feet, he peered down at the black lace lingerie you wore and groaned, "Fuck."

You grinned and bit your lip at pleasing him, and gasped for air when he latched his lips to your neck, rewarding you with kissing and sucking over your sweet spot until your knees were weak.

Nico picked you up and set you on the bed, right at home between your thighs as he marked and bruised the base of your neck. He reached over and pressed at something on the nightstand, making the bedroom lights dim to a low golden shade. Meanwhile, he proceeded to kiss every inch of you it seemed, lingering on your inner thighs and your hip bones.

You'd completely messied up his hair at this point, your fingers constantly in the strands as you tried to steer his head, to no avail. "Nico, please," you begged, chest rising and falling fast. "Please, fuck me."

Nicholas glanced up from his place between your legs, pressing another hot kiss just above your sex, and said, "It's my present, right? I'll take it when I want."

"Your present is going insane," you whined, clamping your thighs down on his head.

Nico pulled you apart with his strong hands and chuckled, his voice low. "Good. That's how I want you."

You whimpered when he tongued at your clothed folds.

"I want her dripping when I slide in," Nico said thickly, still sucking at your cunt through your lacey panties.

Nico didn't stop until your thighs were wrapped around his head, your body arching and rocking, your hands tangled in his hair. He was relentless even as you came, crying out his name and gripping his strands even harder, bouncing into his face as the orgasm made you shake uncontrollably.

"Good girl," Nico purred, swearing deeply in his mother tongue. He dragged your panties down your legs and finally tossed them aside. His eyes locked in on your glistening pussy, never tearing them away as he freed his painfully hard cock, propping himself over you and raking his length back-and-forth between your slick folds.

You stared up at him in worship, grabbing onto his thick arms for purchase, your lips parted. Each time his cock brushed against your sensitive clit, you shuddered and hummed, stifling your moans.

"Tell me to take it, baby," Nico said, leaning down to kiss you before you could answer.

The moment his lips left yours, you said, "Fuck me."

"I can't hear you."

You hooked your legs on his hips and raised your voice. "Please, Nico. Fuck me raw. I need you."

Nico rewarded that with a kiss and guided his cock to your entrance. He trailed kisses over your cheek and across your jaw, finally burying his face in the crook of your neck as he began to bury his cock inside you.

You arched into him and sucked in a breath, latching your hands to Nico's back as he kept pushing inside until he could go no further. It didn't matter how many times you'd been intimate with him, it still blew your mind that he could feel so good.

Like you were made for each other.

"Fuck," Nico growled in your ear, letting out a shaky sigh. He canted his hips back and thrust in again, opening you up for him, your pussy so wet and warm and inviting. "You feel so fucking good."

"Worth the wait?"

"I would have waited forever for you."

Your eyes burned with the threat of tears. The emotions and sensations were overwhelming. "I love you so much, Nicholas," you spoke softly.

Nico lifted his head to meet your eyes, giving you a reassuring kiss and whispering your name. "I love you too. So, so much, baby."

Your breaths stuttered, and so did your heartbeat.

"You're mine."

Nico never took his attention off your beautiful face as he rocked into you until it was just too much for him and his eyes rolled. The sweetest moan fell off his tongue and you tangled a fist in his hair, drawing him down to steal another kiss.

The two of you moved in perfect sync, your bodies settling into a rhythm where you took pleasure from each other, but you could feel Nico holding himself back. You knew him too well.

"Fuck me, Nico," you hissed, dragging your nails down his back, leaving little red lines in his skin and making him arch into you. "Harder, rougher... I can take it."

"I don't want it to be over," he told you breathlessly, sweat dampening his hair, making his skin glisten in the low lights.

You smiled faintly, biting your lip at another hard thrust. The bed kept colliding against the wall, the mattress squeaking underneath you. You were close again, your legs restless on his hips and you needed just a little more...

"We'll do it again, and again, and again," you told him, your voice beginning to shake with your desperation. "But I need to feel you come, Nico."

"Shit," he groaned lowly, propping over you and smacking his hips into yours, pumping his cock into your slick pussy faster and faster.

"Wanna feel your cum in me, baby," you kept taunting him, holding onto his waist now. Little whimpers spilled out of your mouth as his strokes turned merciless. "I've been counting down the days."

Nico shook his head, flipping the hair out of his eyes, and growled, "You're gonna be the death of me."

You'd never heard his voice so deep, even in the morning when he sounded like a lion. His words and his vicious thrusts sent you over the edge, and you gripped him tight as you came, toes curling and eyes rolling back in your head. The room filled with your cries and the wet slapping of skin on skin, and you could barely hear Nico's words over the pounding in your ears.

"Yeah, baby. Just like that. Fuck, you're so pretty when you come." Nico sucked in a breath and panted, "Shit, I can feel you so tight on me. I'm gonna come... gonna fill you up. Fuck, I'm coming."

Nico's tempo went out of sync, rough and jarring, gloving his cock into you hard until he grabbed your hips and finished inside you, finally knowing how it felt to paint your walls with his load.

You were still gasping for air after your own orgasm when Nico gave one last thrust and dropped his head to your chest, his whole body shaking and his breaths loud and labored against your skin. You wrapped your arms and legs around him as you always did, brushing his hair back with gentle fingers while you waited for him to come down from the high that was your sex.

Nico eventually lifted his head, his eyes glistening, and kissed you softly and slowly, as if thanking you for letting him get so rough. You kissed him back eagerly, warmth rushing through you at feeling him still sheathed inside you. Being intimate with Nico stirred something fierce in your heart.

You knew you were exactly where you belonged.

"Are you okay?" Nico rasped. He was so fucked out, you had a feeling he was on the verge of the deepest sleep of his life.

You nodded and smiled up at him happily. "Never better."

Nico studied your face and started to speak, then stopped himself.

You cocked your head at him and asked, "What's wrong?"

"Can we... stay like this a little longer or are you too sore?"

You tightened your legs around him and brought him down for another kiss. After kissing the corner of his mouth affectionately, you said, "I wanna stay like this too."

You looked so peaceful on the couch, sleeping soundly. Nico quietly stepped out of his shoes and put his things away, careful not to wake you. All the while, your boyfriend was eyeing you.

Dressed in a sheer tee and panties in an attempt to stay cool, you looked mouth-watering. Nico crept closer, remembering the conversation you and he had where you gave him permission to touch you in your sleep.

Nico watched your face when he lowered to the couch, fully expecting you to wake up when he carefully slipped your panties off.

"I don't know. It turns me on, you fucking me awake," you'd told him before, and Nico had gotten so hard he couldn't see straight.

It just meant you trusted him deeply with your body. And Nico got off to that. The connection he had with you was indescribable. Your total surrender, only getting pleasure from him.

Nico's hands gently traced up your body, under your tee, which was sticking to you slightly because of the light sheen of sweat on your skin. He gingerly pulled it over your head and dropped it to the floor, situating himself between your legs.

To Nico's surprise, you still didn't wake when he palmed your sex. He started to debate if fingers in your cunt might pull you out of sleep and selfishly, Nico wanted only to wake you with his cock.

Slicking his length with his saliva, which was already painfully hard in his hand from seeing you pliant beneath him, Nico fitted his cock into your entrance and pushed in, inch-by-inch, feeling your velvet walls give way.

You still didn't move, which both annoyed and relieved Nico. On the one hand, he thought penetrating you would wake you right up, having to stretch to accomodate him. On the other, you staying asleep meant he got to use you exactly as you had asked him to.

Nico propped up on his hands and knees, and eased his cock back and forth in your perfect pussy. Your bodies touched only where he gloved his dick in you. A groan escaped him, then another; Nico knew he wasn't going to last long.

And given you were asleep, he didn't have to worry about how fast he was finishing.

There was a little wet slap every time he thrust, making Nico shake his head that you could still get so wet for him even while you slept. He watched your breasts bounce with his movements and he hissed, "You don't even know how perfect you are."

Nico sped up, grasping your hips and emptying himself inside you, his sounds of pleasure filling the room. Nico's eyes lolled and he blinked to clear his vision, shaking his head. His hair was damp with sweat and the fan made the drops cool on his skin.

Looking down at you, sleeping soundly with a belly full of cum, made Nico decide he was staying right there, his cock still between your folds. He lowered down, pressing a soft kiss on your chest before laying his head in the crook of your neck.

You don't remember what you were dreaming about, only that you felt warm and safe. And full. A little tension stitched your brows.

Nico kept kissing at your neck, the wet pop reaching your ears. Your legs shifted, rubbing against his hips. Nico felt his cock getting hard inside you again (not that he'd gone totally soft while your pussy warmed him), and he thrust forward gently, reflexive to your walls clenching on him.

"Nico," you sighed, slowly waking. Your hands instinctively went to his waist and your eyes opened, a kiss landing on your lips the moment your gazes met.

Nico kissed you with hot intent, slipping his tongue into your mouth as he stroked his cock back and forth in your cunt, biting his lip when you moaned.

"Hear that?" Nico asked, referring to the very wet pop when he bottomed out.

You met his eyes and nodded.

"You're already full of cum, baby."

Arousal flushed through your body and you tightened your thighs on his waist, drawing him into you. Your voice was weak when you asked, "You fucked me and came in me already?"

Nico smirked darkly. "Mmhm."

"How was it?"

"I didn't last long," Nico said with a little chuckle, still arching his hips into you.

You smiled bashfully, earning yourself another kiss. Settling deeper into the couch, you draped your legs on Nico's hips, held onto his arms, and lost yourself in his eyes as he fucked you.

Nico couldn't pull his gaze from you. He eased himself back and forth in your wet, warm pussy, eagerly sucking him back in. Your body was so in love with him and Nico was obsessed with you.

Little nothings spilled from your lips and you bit down to fight them. Nico was so hard and deep, you could feel him in the pit of your stomach. Already being slick with his load turned you on, along with the image of him using you like a vessel for his pleasure.

"You're so fucking beautiful," Nico groaned, tracing his thumb over your bottom lip, freeing it from your teeth. "Just wanna fuck you for hours. Feel that pussy come on me."

"Do it," you sighed, winding your fingers into his sweaty hair and tugging. "Make me feel you for days."

"Fuck," Nico swore, crashing his lips on yours and kissing you hungrily. The lewd wet squelch when he bottomed out made his cock twitch and he shoved in harder, making you arch up into him.

Curious, you peered up into his dark eyes and asked, "Did you stay in me after you came?"

Nico smirked a little. "Yeah. Filled you up, stayed in, and kept pumping balls deep in you."

"Oh god..."

"Tight fucking pussy didn't let me get soft," Nico whispered hotly, his thrusts coming faster, his hand brushing up your body to palm your breast. "Just wanted to milk more cum outta me, huh?"

You nodded, his words and his voice making your cunt clench on him. Your toes were already curling. Orgasm was on the tip of your tongue.

In the next second, Nico's hand left your breast to wrap around your throat and squeeze. He smacked his hips into yours, driving into you with the intent of finishing you off, and his lips ghosted over yours when he said, "Come for me. Now. Don't make me say it again."

You were sore from his big cock stretching you out, stuffing you full over and over, that you felt like a nerve laid bare, all the stimulation hitting you at once. You felt the pleasure of him deep in your belly hitting the spot just right and at his command you came, your cries cut off by the hand around your throat.

"Good girl," Nico sighed, working you through the orgasm at his steady pace, grunting at the pulsing of your sex on his dick.

If two people were meant to be tangled together, Nico knew in his soul it was you and him.

After hitting the peak, your body shook from the euphoria, your eyes lolling into your head. You realized too late that you'd found purchase in Nico's back, your nails digging into his skin. Nico, of course, was delighted. He lived for the marks you left behind in his flesh; a reminder that he'd buried his cock inside you.

Nico groaned and licked his lips to wet them, kissing you as he kept colliding his hips into yours, your little noises filling his mouth. "I know, baby," he said, loving your whimpers. "Just a little more."

You were right at your limit. Your cunt was sore in the best way, but Nico's stiff cock kept sheathing inside you. If he had his way, he'd keep easing his dick in and out of your pussy until one of you tapped out.

"Please, come," you begged him in a faint whisper.

Nico assessed you a moment, watching your pretty face tense when he thrust in, then your breasts bouncing with his movements. He didn't want it to end, but your body was screaming for a reprieve. Nico grabbed your hands and pinned them above your head, and started to fuck you at a relentless pace.

"Take it, baby." His voice was a growl, almost drowned out by your moans and whines. "Almost there. Fucking shit. You're gonna take all of it."

You cried out when his cock kissed your cervix and with another stroke Nico came with a loud groan, painting your walls with another load. You watched his eyes go hazy, his lips parted, his arms shaking as he gripped your hands tighter, the pleasure tearing through his body.

"Fuck," Nico chanted, trying to catch his breath and failing. He was panting. He stayed painfully still, his cock taking it sweet time going soft in you, but once it did, he pulled out and fell back onto the other side of the sofa.

It caught you off-guard; how empty you felt with him no longer filling you, but then you were distracted by his cum slipping out and you quickly rolled to your side and closed your legs.

Nico was there in a flash, steering you onto your back again and, holding your legs together, bent toward your body. "Keep it all in," he whispered darkly.

You let him do as he pleased, because the man had tapped into everyone of your kinks, and all he did was turn you on so bad you couldn't think straight.

Nico couldn't help himself; he cupped your sex, teasing his fingers through your folds and moved your ankles to be on his shoulders just as he locked eyes with you.

You made a little noise and Nico couldn't decipher it so he asked, "Sore?"

You nodded.

"How sore?"

"If you put your dick in me again right now I'd probably die," you quipped.

Nico chuckled. "Lucky for you, my balls are empty at the moment. Thanks to you."

You bit your lip, staring at his handsome face damp with sweat and flushed with heat, and thinking, This sexy motherfucker...

Nico cocked his head and asked, "If you're so sore, why are you looking at me like that?"

"I can't help it."

Two fingers slowly pressed into your swollen cunt and you gripped the sofa in your fists, crying out his name in a mix of surprise and fuck how could it hurt so good?