𑣲₍ ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

you shake your head. “nope.” you shrug and pick up your phone again and start to scroll through your settings apps. “but it’s not a big deal, really, it’s just another thing to cross off the bucket list.”

seonghwa snorts and peeks over to snoop at your phone, to which you angle it away from him with an annoyed scowl. “i think it may be a little more serious than that.”

you type gibberish into the search bar. "why does it have to be serious, hwa? it's just sex."

its seonghwa's turn to scoff this time, and he pinches the skin of your calf, you swat at him with your free hand. but he does it again, and you bite out an irritated "quit it" as he starts to speak again.

"thats a bad mindset to have, y'know that right?" he lowers his voice to that annoying, mothering tone he uses with you when he thinks you're being stupid. "it should never be "just sex."

"okay yeah, but you can't be so picky and choosy all the time. i'm sure ill get with some guy and when he figures it out, he'll work with me or whatever. teach me or something." you speak of it fleetingly, like it was nothing more than a pesky errand.

seonghwa snatches your phone from you and shoves it into the couch cushions, and you sigh loudly.

"some guy?" he questions with a raise of his eyebrow. you move to fish your phone out of the couch, but he reaches out and gently grabs your wrist, encasing it in his slender fingers and rubbing his thumb over your thrumming pulse point.

"why not me?" he speaks lowly, and you snap your eyes up to his. he stares back at you with an intensity that settles low in your gut. his thumb stroked over your inner wrist slowly, and his other hand twitched at his side on the couch.

the air went thick, the quiet of his living room felt encased in a bubble, and the warmth of his skin suddenly burned.

he sees it. your thighs clenching beneath your body, the conflict flashing over your eyes, your free hand digging its nails into the cushion.

when you don't respond, he lets his eyes fall to where his hand held your wrist, watching with illustrated intent as he traces patterns against the fragile skin.

"i could show you, i've always been told i'm a good teacher." seonghwa tickles the skin of your palm with gentle scratches of his nails.

"thats what friends are for, yeah?" he lifts his pretty eyes back up to you, and something else has shadowed over them, and you feel something inside of you crack. you're aware of the way veins in his hands flow prettily under his skin.

the way his collarbones peak through the thin fabric of his shirt. the slick shine on his bottom lip where he licked to wet it. his tongue poked against his inner cheek and his eyebrows raised again to urge an answer out of you.

"c'mon pretty, don't leave me hanging." his voice is softer than usual, a new tone lacing it you've never heard from your best friend, something heated, something needy.

if deciding to have your best friend teach you how to ride dick was a bad idea, then you could mull on it later. because it wasn't long until he was sitting under you on the couch, legs spread nice and wide, his hands pressing into your hips where he held your body above him.

you straddled him, your thighs resting on either side of his, your knees pressed into the rough fabric of the couch cushions. your hands gripped his shoulders, your nails digging into the flesh of the blades.

he looks up at you through his lashes, as if you were a gift from god himself, his eyebrows knit together so prettily. "its fun up there, huh?" he smiles, dragging his warm hands up your thighs, holding you like you might melt and slip through his fingers.

you could barely keep yourself together; he was so deep inside of you. your thighs shook around him, his tip nudging against that spot so sweet and so dirty. his fingers kneaded the flesh of your hips, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth with a quiet moan when he felt your cunt clench around him.

"it helps that you're, ah… so wet…" his voice cracks lightly, his cock twitching inside of you and sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine.

you shiver and grip his shoulders a little harder, and you begin to lift your hips, but his grip on them tightens, and he pushes you right back down until your ass hits his thighs again, and you groan nice and low as he fills you all the way up again.

"no-no-no-no-no, baby, stop. don't lift." he presses his lips to your collarbone and kisses you there softly, running his tongue over the skin warmly. one hand leaves your hip and runs over your waist before he presses his palm flat against your lower back and pushes until you arch a little.

just enough that he somehow slips deeper into you, and you let out a weak whine when his fat tip presses ever harder against that spot.

"grind." he instructs in a gravelly, soft moan. "rock your hips, back and forth. it'll help me hit that spot for you."

you shake and whimper under your breath, but you obey. you gently move your hips forward, and the feeling is immediate, his cock drags against your soft walls just enough that it feels like pure heaven.

you move your hands and card them through the hair at the back of his head, cradling his skull in your arms as you hide your face in the crook of his neck, moaning softly against his skin as you rock your hips, nice and slow.

it helps that he's so big, each roll of your lower body has him slipping in and out of you just enough to stimulate you, but not enough to where you can consider him fucking you. his tip dragging against that spot like a constant button, your legs shaking uncontrollaby and your whine brushing past his ear like a song.

your clit lightly brushes against his abs, where his shirt has ridden up over his lower stomach. he keeps his hand on your lower back, keeping you arched all the while his other hand stays glued to your hips, pushing and pulling on your lower body, helping you grind his cock into your body.

"there, how's that feel, baby? good?" he whispers in your ear, kissing just below your earlobe as he helps you rock your body around his cock.

you nod against his neck, gripping his soft, dark hair harder and choking out a moan when he teases you with a heavy lift of his hips. then you feel as he encases your hips with both his hands again, and gently he lifts your body ever so slightly.

you squeeze his head even harder, seonghwa's soft moans shaking in his throat as he lifts and pushes your cunt back down on his cock in slow, deep intervals. "don't stop rocking those hips, keep fucking me like you want. grind, deep, slow…"

he guides you perfectly, each time he lifts your hips himself it makes you clench around him harder. you start to feel a little desperate, and your hips start to move a little faster, rocking with a little more rhythm, but seonghwa didn't like that.

one hand finds the back of your neck and grabs it firmly, pulling your head away from his shoulder and pressing your forehead to his. suddenly all you can see is his eyes, and it overwhelms you to the point of tears. you whine pathetically when he thrusts his cock up into your pussy so sharply that a drop of drool falls from your lips onto his chest.

"easy…" he grumbles against your lips, his breath fanning over your face in low, heavy pants. "slow down pretty, no need to rush." his nails dig into the back of your neck, and you shiver when he starts to grind his own hips up into you, so deep it has your stomach caving.

"if i wanted you pounded into the floor i would've put you on your back, but i'm teaching you sweetness. listen to me." his eyes fall low-lidded as you resume your slow grinding, and his mouth falls open in a pretty moan when you tighten around him, the sound of your slickness loud in your ears.

"it's your dick right now, baby, use it. do what feels good, but don't lose your head." he keeps up the torturous movement of his hips, a choreographed grind that makes his stomach roll prettily.

he doesn't let you look away, forcing you to lock in on his needy gaze while he keeps you filled up with him, nudging every deep spot, every nook and cranny of your pussy. there wasn't a single space inside of you that remained untouched.

"s, t-too, mm-" you tried to talk, try to tell him how good you were feeling but it came out in slurred babbles, and he laughed at you. his warm breath shudders over your parted lip,s and he nudges his head up, melding his soft lips with yours and kissing you deep and nasty.

his tongue fills your mouth with a purr, curling and essentially fucking your mouth with it. "it's a lot i know…" he whispers into your mouth, interrupting the kiss with a low moan when you clench so hard around him it makes his entire body fuzzy.

he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, letting go with a wet pop and pressing your hips down so hard onto his cock you thought if you looked down you'd see his tip poking through the flesh of your stomach.

"wouldn't have felt like this with anyone else, baby." seonghwa nips at the corner of your mouth, dropping his head to run his warm tongue flat up the front of your throat. "feel how wet you are? no other man will be able to make you feel this good."

his eyes lift as he sucks marks of possession into the skin of your neck, and when he sees a tear slipping down your cheek, he growls low in his throat and jerks his cock up into you rough and deep, and you yelp as the bliss shoots through you.

"oh no, don't cry. it makes me wanna be mean to you, makes me wanna fuck you til it feels wrong when i'm not inside you."

now he wraps his hands around your throat, pressing his thumbs against those soft spots that melt your brain, his eyes darting all over your pretty little blissed out face, his lips brushing against your in a ghost of a kiss.

"now lift, drop, and roll. fuck me, bunny. its yours, use this cock until you're satisfied. make yourself cum for me."

you coudln't disobey if you tried, working your body and focusing on that rapidly tightening knot in your stomach as you fuck yourself on seonghwa's dick, every delicious drag inside of you forcing your eyes to roll to the back of your head.

he doesn't bother to chastise you for breaking eye contact; he knows you're too lost in it to control yourself. he squeezes your throat tighter, your moans coming choked and broken. seonghwa helps push you over that edge, groaning and purring prettily for you, lifting his hips to match your desperate movements.

"i feel you baby, pussy feels so good around me. so warm, so tight." he lifts his head to press his lips to the shell of your hot ears, moaning and sighing as you ride him to high heaven. your head feels fuzzy with the lack of air, seonghwa making sure that the only thing you could think about was his dick working you out.

“cum as much as you need,” he coos in your ear his voice low and breathless, sinking his teeth into the soft lobe. “ride me, bunny, ride me.”

you absolutely lose it, slamming your hips down onto his dick and shattering, dribbling drool in rivers as you cum. he squeezed your throat in pulsing intervals, giving you air, then snatching it from you, rolling his hips up into your cunt and dragging every drop of your orgasm out of your body.

"oh god…fuck." he grumbles in his throat, overwhelmed by how pretty you looked on top of him, blissed out over your warm, gummy pussy squeezing him so tight he almost came inside of you. "such a quick learner, baby."

he drags his hands away from your throat, cradling your head, smearing your drool all over your cheeks with his thumbs, your face hazy and drunk while he rocks his hips into you in painfully slow, high off the way you shake and whimper, your slick sticking to his thighs and his lower stomach, a messy proof of his effect on you.

"did so good beautiful, yes you did." he praises, and yet his hips never stop moving. rolling, grinding, upwards strokes that make you feel helpless, regardless of the fact that he was beneath you.

"think you can give me another one? lesson's not over yet." he bites out, grabbing your arms and dragging your body down so your forehead rests over his shoulder. then he grips your hips, lifts your body up, and shimmies his hips down just enough so he can plant his feet flat on the floor, before he starts to fuck.

hard, deep, powerful thrusts up into your overstimulated cunt that has your moans coming out in staccato chokes.

"you did your w-work, now let me use this pussy." he groans through gritted teeth, and you feel your body erupt into flames the more he moves. making you feel every inch of him, each thrust touching your brain. making you feel so good.

is that not what friends are for?

The words hang between you. 

Your heart pounds against your ribs so hard you're certain he can hear it. 

This is the closest either of you has ever come to saying it, the thing that's been building for months in loaded glances and accidentally tender moments and nights spent lying awake thinking about the person sleeping in the next room.

Then he reaches for you.

His hand cups your cheek, gentle despite the tension radiating through every line of his body. 

His thumb traces the line of your jaw, and his eyes search your face like he's looking for permission, for rejection, for anything that might stop him from doing what he's about to do.

You don't stop him.

He leans in and kisses you.

It starts soft — almost tentative, a question more than a demand. 

Then, without warning, you make a sound against his mouth, something small and involuntary, and whatever restraint he had left shatters completely.

His other hand slides into your hair, tilting your head back to deepen the kiss. 

The zipper, still halfway down, becomes irrelevant as his hands find your waist, your hips, pulling you against him with an urgency that makes your knees weak. 

You feel the hard planes of his chest, the strength in his arms as he holds you, and something hot and demanding pools low in your abdomen.

"Tell me to stop," he murmurs against your lips. "Tell me this is just… tell me you don't want this, and I'll walk away. I'll never bring it up again."

You don't tell him to stop.

Because who are you to tell him to stop? 

Instead, you reach for the hem of his polo shirt, pulling it up and over his head in one smooth motion. 

The fabric falls to the floor, forgotten, and for a moment you just look at him. 

The defined muscles of his chest and abdomen, the way the low light plays across his skin, the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

"You're staring."

"I'm just appreciating." Your voice is dry, but there's no hiding the way your gaze keeps dropping. "Don't pretend you don't know what you look like."

Something like a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. 

Then his hands are on you again, sliding the dress off your shoulders, letting it pool at your feet in a whisper of expensive fabric. 

You stand before him in a pair of silk shorts, a bra, and underwear, suddenly aware of how exposed you are, how hungry his eyes look as they travel over you.

"Beautiful," he breathes. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this. How long I’ve thought about when this would finally come. About—"

He doesn't finish the sentence. 

Instead, he pulls you into another kiss, this one deeper, more demanding. 

His hands find the waistband of your shorts and tug them down without hesitation, leaving you in just your undergarments. 

The cool air hits your heated skin, but you barely notice because he's looking at you like you're an oasis in the middle of a dessert. 

You can see the effect this is having on him. 

The prominent outline of his erection pressing against his tailored pants, straining against the fabric. 

The way his chest rises and falls more quickly now. 

The dark intensity in his eyes that makes you feel both powerful and completely at his mercy.

"Jay." His name comes out as a whisper. "Fuck, just… touch me already, please."

He doesn't need to be asked twice.

His hands slide up your sides, thumbs tracing the curve of your breasts through the thin fabric of your bra. 

Your head falls back as he explores, learning the map of your body with agonizing thoroughness. 

When he finally unclasps the bra and lets it fall, the sound you make is embarrassingly needy, a soft, desperate whimper that you can't hold back.

"Already making sounds for me?" His voice is rough, pleased. "And I've barely even touched you yet."

"I'm not—" You try to protest, but his hand slides lower, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your underwear, and whatever you were going to say dissolves into a gasp.

"Oh, you're not what? Not wet? Because I can feel how soaked you are through these panties." He presses his palm against you, and your hips jerk involuntarily. "Feel that? That's all for me, because of me."

Your usual silence is crumbling. 

Every brush of his fingers, every press of his palms against your heated skin, pulls another sound from your throat, louder than the last. 

For someone who's spent the entire relationship holding your tongue, keeping your thoughts locked away, you're making an awful lot of noise now.

And he notices.

Of course he does. 

"You're so vocal tonight." His voice is ragged, thick with desire. "I've never heard you make these sounds before. The quiet, composed woman I'm engaged to, the one who barely says two words at dinner, look at you now. Whimpering for me like I’m all that matters."

"I hate you," you manage, but it comes out breathless and unconvincing.

"No, you don't." He presses a finger inside you, and your knees buckle. "You love this. You love, love, love that I can make you fall apart like this. Damn it, just admit it already, won’t you.”

"I—"

"Admit it."

"Fuck, yes." The word tears out of you, louder than you intended. "Yes, I love it. I love your hands on me so, so much. I've thought about this—about you, god—"

He groans against your neck, the sound vibrating through your whole body. "Tell me. Tell me what you've thought about."

"Your mouth." You're past embarrassment now, past holding back. "Your hands. Shit, how you'd feel inside me. How you'd sound when you lose control, things like that."

"Fuck." He pulls his hand away, and you nearly sob at the loss. "I need to taste you right now, pretty ."

He turns you around, walking you backward until your knees hit the edge of the bed. 

You fall onto the plush mattress, and he follows you down, settling his weight over you. 

For a moment he just looks at you, hair fanned across the pillows, chest heaving, eyes dark with want.

"Tell me what you want," he says. "I’ll hear you out… I need to hear you say it, use your words for me, pretty."

You reach up, palms flat against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingers.

"You, god, it’s you, Jay. I want you, all of you, actually. Your mouth, your fingers, your cock—I want everything."

He exhales shakily. 

Then he's kissing down your body, lips trailing fire across your collarbone, your sternum, the soft skin of your stomach. 

When he hooks his fingers into your underwear and pulls it off, you're completely bare beneath him.

"Spread your legs for me, gorgeous."

The command makes heat flood through you. 

You obey, and he settles between your thighs, breath warm against your most sensitive skin. 

Then his mouth is on you, and you genuinely forgot how to keep your mouth shut.

A loud, broken moan tears from your throat. 

Your back arches off the bed as his tongue works against you, slow, deliberate strokes that make your thighs tremble. 

He finds the spots that make you gasp, the pressure that makes your hands fist in the sheets, and he exploits every single one.

"Jay—oh god—oh fuck—"

"That's it." The vibration of his voice against you makes you jerk. "Let me hear you. I want the whole building to know who's making you feel this good."

Your usual silence shatters completely. 

Moans and gasps and desperate cries spill from your lips without permission, each one louder than the last. 

You can't control it, can't hold back, not when he's doing that with his tongue, not when his hands are gripping your thighs to hold you open for him.

"More, please, please, fuck—don't stop—"

He hums against you, and the pleasure spikes. Your hips roll against his face without your permission, chasing the sensation, and he lets you. 

Encourages it, even. 

His hands slide under your ass to tilt you closer to his mouth.

"You taste so fucking good," he growls against your flesh. "I could do this for hours, gorgeous. Eat this pretty pussy until you can't think, can't speak, can't do anything but come on my tongue."

The filthy words send a jolt through you. 

You've never heard him talk like this, never imagined the composed, controlled man you're engaged to had this side to him.

"You're close, aren't you?" He sucks on your clit, and you scream. "I can feel it. You're shaking. Come for me. Come on my face."

"Jay—Jay—I'm—"

The orgasm crashes through you without warning. 

Your whole body seizes, back bowing off the bed as pleasure whites out your vision. 

You hear yourself screaming his name, but it sounds distant, muffled by the roaring in your ears. 

He works you through it, tongue never stopping, drawing out every last aftershock until you're twitching and oversensitive.

When he finally pulls back, you're trembling and breathless. 

He rises over you again, lips glistening with your arousal, and you can see how much this has affected him, the heavy-lidded desire in his eyes, the way his body is straining toward yours.

"I want to be inside you," he growls. "Now, literally now. I can't fucking wait anymore."

He reaches for his pants, undoing them with shaking hands and shoving them down his thighs. 

His boxers follow, and then he's naked before you, and you have a moment to appreciate the body he's been hiding under all those perfectly fitted polo shirts.

He's gorgeous. 

Lean muscle and defined lines and hard, flushed cock jutting from a nest of dark hair. 

Thick. 

The tip glistening with precum.

He catches you staring and smirks. "See something you like?"

"Stop fishing for compliments and just fuck me already."

A surprised laugh escapes him, the first genuine sound you've heard from him all night. 

Then he's climbing over you, positioning himself at your entrance, and the laughter fades into something much more intense.

"Tell me if you need me to stop."

You nod. 

He pushes forward, slowly, letting your body adjust to the stretch. 

The sensation is overwhelming, the fullness, the intimacy of being connected like this after months of careful distance.

"Fuck—you're so tight, so sexy." His voice is strained. "So wet, so fucking wet. You're dripping around me."

"Move. Please. I need you to move."

He obeys. 

Slow at first, deep strokes that make you gasp with each thrust. 

His forehead rests against yours, breath mingling, eyes locked on your face like he's memorizing every reaction.

"You feel incredible." He groans, hips rolling. "Better than I could’ve ever imagined, and I imagined this a lot, baby. Every night. Fucking my fist thinking about you."

"Jay—"

"I'd think about your face when you come. The sounds you'd make. Now… shit—here you are, underneath me, taking my cock so well."

His words make you clench around him, and he hisses. 

You're being vocal again, gasps and moans and cries that fill the room, each sound spilling out without your permission.

"You like that? You like hearing how much I want you?" He thrusts deeper, hitting a spot that makes you cry out. "You like knowing that your fake fiancé has been obsessing over you? That I've been desperate to get my hands on you?"

"Yes—yes—fuck, more—harder—"

"Harder?" He obeys, snapping his hips faster. "Like this? You want me to ruin you?"

"Yes! God, yes, ruin me—please—"

His pace increases. 

You're being so loud now, louder than you've ever been during sex, louder than you thought possible. 

Each thrust punches another sound out of you, and the more noise you make, the faster he goes.

"That's it. Scream for me. Let me hear you." His voice is ragged, barely controlled. "The neighbors are going to know exactly who's making you feel this good. They're going to hear you screaming my name and know that you're mine."

"I'm yours, I'm yours—only yours—"

"Say that again, gorgeous."

"I'm yours, Jay! Fuck—yes—right there—don't stop—"

He shifts your leg higher over his hip, changing the angle, and suddenly he's hitting that spot with every thrust. 

The pleasure is overwhelming, building inside you like a wave about to break.

"You're going to come for me again, aren't you? I can feel you squeezing me. You're so, so close."

"Yes—so close—please—"

"Fuck, come—come on my cock. Let me feel you."

The orgasm tears through you, even more intense than the first. 

You scream his name, back arching, nails raking down his back hard enough to leave marks. 

He groans above you, hips stuttering as your walls clench around him, but he doesn't stop. 

He fucks you through it, maintaining the pace, drawing out your pleasure until you're trembling and overstimulated.

"One more," he growls. "Give me one more."

"I can't—too much—"

"You can, you will. For me—just for me."

He pulls out suddenly, and you whimper at the loss. 

But then he's flipping you over, pulling your hips up until you're on your hands and knees, face pressed into the pillow.

"This position." His hands smooth over your ass, squeezing. "I've thought about this. Having you like this. Face down, ass up, completely at my mercy."

He pushes back inside in one smooth thrust, and you moan into the pillow.

"No." He tangles a hand in your hair, pulling your head back. "I want to hear you, pretty. Don't muffle those lovely sounds."

He starts moving, harder now, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. 

You're loud again, cries and moans and desperate sounds that echo off the walls.

"You take me so deep like this." His grip tightens in your hair. "Feel that? Feel how deep I am? I'm hitting spots you didn't even know existed."

"Yes—yes—so deep—fuck—"

"This is what you do to me." His hips snap forward, relentless. "You drive me insane. Walking around this penthouse in those tiny ass shorts. Cooking dinner with that concentrated look on your face. Making me want you when I'm supposed to be pretending I don't."

"Jay—"

"I've jerked off to the thought of you more times than I can count. Thought about bending you over every surface in this apartment. About making you scream so loud the whole city knows you belong to me."

His words are pushing you toward another peak. 

You're so loud now, practically screaming with each thrust, and every sound you make seems to drive him faster.

"I love hearing you." His voice is strained, desperate. "I love knowing I'm the one making you lose control. The quiet, composed woman everyone else sees—she doesn't exist when I'm inside you. It's just me. Just us."

"Harder—please—I'm going to—"

"Come for me, pretty. Come on my cock again. I want to feel you fall apart."

The third orgasm hits you like a freight train. You scream, body convulsing, and he groans behind you as your walls clench around him. 

This time he doesn't hold back, his rhythm becomes erratic, hips pistoning faster, chasing his own release.

"I'm going to come," he growls. "Where do you want it? Inside? On your ass? Tell me—"

"Inside, please—fuck, Jay, I need to feel you—"

He thrusts deep one final time, burying himself to the hilt as he comes with a guttural groan. 

You feel the pulse of his release, the heat flooding your insides, and it triggers one last small orgasm that makes you whimper.

He collapses beside you, both of you breathing hard, bodies slick with sweat. 

For a long moment, there's only the sound of your ragged breathing and the distant hum of the city.

Then he laughs, low and exhausted and genuine.

"I had no idea you were that loud."

You bury your face in the pillow, suddenly self-conscious. "I've never—I'm not usually—"

"I'm not complaining." He pulls you against him, pressing a kiss to your temple. "It was the hottest thing I've ever experienced, seriously. Every sound you made just made me want you more."

You're quiet for a moment, tracing patterns on his chest.

"We should do this again," you murmur.

He snorts. "Give me ten minutes and we will."

"That's not what I—" You swat at his chest. "I meant—this. Us, you know… not pretending to hate each other's asses anymore."

His expression softens. 

He tilts your chin up, making you meet his eyes.

"I don't want to pretend anymore either. I haven't wanted to for a long time."

"You could have said something."

"So could you."

Fair point.

He rolls onto his side, facing you, one hand propping up his head.

"I have a confession." His voice is lighter now, teasing. "When you said you wanted to 'do this again'—I was hoping you meant right now. I'm not done with you yet."

"Already? Most men need recovery time."

"I'm not most men." He grins, and there's something predatory in it. "And you haven't seen everything I want to do to you yet."

You raise an eyebrow. "Such as?"

"Ride me."

The command makes heat pool in your stomach again, despite your exhaustion.

"You want me on top?"

"I want to watch you. Want to see your face when you take what you need from me. Want to see how pretty you look bouncing on my dick."

"Wow, you’re so eloquent… you have a way with words."

"I have a lot of things." His hand slides down your side, gripping your hip. "And I plan to show you all of them before this night is over."

True to his word, he's hard again within minutes, helped along by your hand wrapping around him, stroking him to fullness while he groans and bit your shoulder.

"Get up here," he demands, pulling you on top of him. "Straddle me. Face me."

You position yourself over him, sinking down slowly. 

The angle is different, deeper in some ways, shallower in others, and you have control for the first time in your whole life. 

"Take what you want," he says, hands settling on your thighs. "Use me."

You start to move, experimenting with different rhythms and angles. 

His eyes never leave your face, watching every expression, every flicker of pleasure.

"That's it. Just like that." His thumbs stroke over your hip bones. "You look so fucking good like this. Taking what you need. Using me for your pleasure."

"You feel—" You break off with a moan as you find the right angle. "So good, so, so, so fucking good. You fill me up so perfectly."

"Made for me." His hands slide up to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples. "This pussy was made for my cock. We fit together perfectly like jigsaw puzzles.”

You're getting loud again, moans filling the room as you ride him faster. 

He groans beneath you, hips lifting to meet each of your movements.

"That's it, baby. Ride me. Take what you need." He pinches your nipples, and you cry out. "You're so sexy when you're loud. I love hearing how good I make you feel."

"Jay, I'm—"

"Uh-uh, wait for me, gorgeous. I want to come with you this time."

You slow down, trying to hold back, and he growls his approval.

"Good girl. So good for me. You listen so well."

He sits up suddenly, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against his chest. 

The new angle presses your clit against his pelvis with every movement, and you keen at the sensation.

"I want to feel you fall apart around me while I come inside you." His voice is rough against your ear. "Can you do that for me? Can you come with me?"

"Yes—yes—please—"

"Good. Now."

He thrusts up into you hard, and you both shatter at the same time. 

You scream his name as pleasure crashes through you, feeling him pulse inside you, filling you up again. 

He groans against your neck, teeth grazing your shoulder, hands tight enough on your hips to bruise.

When it's over, you collapse against his chest, completely spent.

"Round three in five minutes," he murmurs against your hair.

You laugh—weak and exhausted but genuine. "You're going to kill me."

"What a way to go."

But he's not joking. 

True to his word, he's hard again within minutes, his stamina is inhuman, and you're beginning to wonder if you've created a monster.

What kind of shit has this guy been pulling off in the gym to achieve so much? 

"Turn around," he says, hands guiding your hips. "I want you facing the other way. I want to watch that pretty ass bounce on my cock."

You hesitate. "You want—"

"Now." His voice leaves no room for argument. "I want to see you from behind while you ride me. I want to watch my cock disappear inside you."

Heat floods through you at his words. 

You've never been particularly adventurous in bed before, mostly because you've never had a partner who made you want to be. 

But Jay is looking at you like you're a feast he's been starved for, and you find yourself turning around, positioning yourself over him with your back to his chest.

"That's it." His hands smooth over your ass, kneading the flesh. "God, look at you. So eager. So desperate for my cock."

You sink down onto him slowly, and the new angle makes you gasp. 

He fills you differently like this, deeper in some ways, the pressure concentrated against your front wall.

"Fuck—you feel even bigger like this—"

"I am bigger." He grips your hips, helping you find a rhythm. "And you're going to take all of me. Every. Single. Inch."

You start to move, lifting yourself up and sliding back down. 

The sensation is overwhelming, the way he stretches you, the way his hands feel on your ass, the knowledge that he's watching himself disappear inside you.

"That's it. Ride me. Show me how much you want it."

"I do—I want it—want you—"

"Then take it harder. Faster. Fuck yourself on my cock like you mean it."

You obey, moving faster, grinding down with each stroke. 

You're loud again, moans and gasps and desperate little cries that fill the room. 

True to form, the louder you get, the more responsive he becomes.

"Yes—yes—oh god—right there—"

"Right there?" He thrusts up to meet you, hitting that spot perfectly. "Like this? You want me to keep hitting that spot while you scream for me?"

"Yes! Please—don't stop—harder—"

"Harder?" His grip tightens on your hips, and he starts fucking up into you with purpose. "You want me to ruin this pussy? Make it so no one else will ever feel right inside you?"

You're screaming now, completely beyond controlling the sounds coming out of your mouth. 

Every thrust punches another cry from your throat, and you can hear how wet you are, the obscene sounds of your bodies meeting echoing through the room.

"Jay—Jay—I'm—oh fuck—I'm going to—"

"Not yet." He stills your hips, and you whimper. "You don't come until I say. You understand? You hold it."

"I can't—it's too much—please—"

"You can. And you will." He starts moving again, slower this time, torturously slow. "I want to feel you clench around me when I tell you to come. I want you begging for it."

"Please—please, fuck, just let me—"

"Tell me you're mine first."

"I'm yours—I'm yours—only yours—"

"Say it louder."

"I’m yours! Jay, I'm yours—please—please let me come—"

"Good girl. Now come for me. Come all over my cock."

The orgasm crashes through you like a tsunami. 

You scream, actually scream, back arching, body shaking as wave after wave of pleasure tears through you. 

He moans beneath you, and you feel him pulsing inside, filling you up again as he follows you over the edge.

You collapse forward, barely catching yourself on your hands, breathing ragged and uneven. 

He's still inside you, still half-hard, and when he shifts, you whimper from the oversensitivity.

"One more," he growls. "I know you have one more in you."

"Jay, I literally cannot—I can't feel my legs—I… what the fuck are you even made out of?"

"I'll do the work then." He maneuvers you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up so your ass is in the air. "You just lie there and take it. Let me use you."

"Use me?"

"Did I stutter?" He runs a hand down your spine, making you shiver. "I've been fantasizing about you for months. Years, maybe. And now that I have you, I'm going to take everything you'll give me."

He enters you from behind again, this time with your face pressed into the mattress, your hips propped up on a pillow. 

The position is sinful, animalistic, and you feel so deliciously full.

"This is my favorite position," he admits, voice strained. "Having you like this. Face down, ass up. Unable to do anything but take what I give you."

"Then give it to me." Your voice is muffled by the sheets. "Give me everything."

He starts moving, slow, deep strokes that make your toes curl. 

The sounds you're making are embarrassing now, whimpers and moans and desperate little cries that you can't control.

"You're so loud tonight." He groans, thrusting deeper. "I love it. I love hearing how good I make you feel. The woman who barely speaks at dinner being reduced to this. Screaming my name. Begging for my cock."

"More—please—more—"

"More?" He snaps his hips forward, and you yelp. "Like this? You want me to fuck you harder?"

"Yes! Harder—faster—please—"

He obeys. 

His pace increases, and you're being fucked into the mattress so hard the headboard is hitting the wall. 

Each thrust is punctuated by a slap of skin against skin and a desperate sound from your throat.

"This what you wanted?" He grunts. "Wanted me to use this pretty pussy? Wanted to be ruined?"

"Yes—yes—ruin me—please—"

"You're close again, aren't you? I can feel you tightening around me. You're going to come on my cock again like a good girl."

"I can't—I've already—"

"You can. You will. And you're going to scream my name when you do."

His hand snakes around to your front, fingers finding your clit, and you sob at the dual sensation. 

He's thrusting into you and rubbing circles on your most sensitive spot, and it's too much, it's everything.

"Come for me. Now."

Your final orgasm rips through you with an intensity that makes your vision go white. 

You scream his name, scream it like a prayer, like a plea, like the only word you know, and you feel him follow you over the edge with a guttural groan.

He collapses on top of you, both of you shaking, sweat-slicked and thoroughly spent. 

For a long moment, there's nothing but the sound of your ragged breathing and the pounding of your hearts.

Later, much later, you're both tangled in silk sheets, bodies exhausted and satisfied. 

You've lost count of how many times he's made you come, how many positions he's bent you into, how many filthy things he's whispered in your ear.

"You know," you say, voice hoarse from screaming, "I always thought you were the composed, controlled type."

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. "I was. Until you."

"Me? I didn't do anything."

"You exist." His arm tightens around your waist. "You walk around this apartment looking like that. You cook meals in those tiny shorts. You bite your lip when you're concentrating. You exist, and it drives me insane."

You're quiet for a moment, processing this.

"I've been pretending too," you admit softly. "Pretending I didn't notice you. Pretending the arrangement didn't feel like anything."

"And now?"

"Now I don't want to pretend anymore."

He smiles against your skin, genuine and warm.

"Good, I have no intention of letting you go."

"Possessive."

"You love it."

You consider protesting, but then again, he's not wrong.

"Maybe a little."

"Good answer." He shifts, pulling you closer. "Sleep now. I have plans for you in the morning."

"More? What the fuck?"

"Many, many more."

You drift off with his arm around your waist and his breath warm against your shoulder, thinking maybe the arrangement was always going to lead here. 

Maybe there was never a version of this story where you remained indifferent to each other.

Some things are worth breaking the rules for.

Even the ones you wrote yourself.

⭐️ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Your vision was swimming, a messy blur of tears and sweat. You lay sprawled on the sheets, your body a trembling wreck, completely oversensitive. He was still there, his fingers buried deep inside you, relentless and slow, teasing that spot that had already brought you to the brink three times tonight.

"Don't close your legs," Jake commanded softly, his voice vibrating against your inner thigh. He held your legs open with his shoulders, his dark eyes locked onto your face, searching for every reaction. "Look at me."

You tried to focus, but your mind was shattered. The pleasure was a heavy ache that spiked every time his thumb brushed your clit. "Jake..." you choked out, your voice barely a whisper. "Too much."

"Too much?" He chuckled, a low sound that made your toes curl. His fingers curled slightly inside you, crooking just right to drag a ragged moan from your throat. "You came three times, baby. You can take a little more."

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that tasted of desperation. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breathing heavy. "Does it feel good?" he asked, his thumb stroking your cheek. "Tell me."

You couldn't form words. You just nodded frantically, your head turning into the pillow.

"Yes or no, Y/N," he insisted, his tone shifting from sweet to demanding. He stopped moving his fingers for a second, just holding you open, which was absolute torture. "We need communication here. I need to know what you're feeling."

"Yes," you gasped, your hips bucking up against his hand involuntarily. "It feels...oh god, it feels so good."

"That's my girl," he praised, his thumb pressing hard against your sensitive bundle of nerves. "But you look like you're about to pass out. Are you okay?"

"I'm...I don't know," you cried out as he started a rhythm again, fast and shallow. "I can't...I'm so full."

"You're so fucking tight around me," he groaned. "Look at how you're clenching. You love it, don't you?"

"I do," you whimpered, your back arching off the bed. "I can't stop."

"Then don't," he commanded, kissing your neck, his teeth grazing the skin. "Just let it happen. Let me take care of you. We can do this all night if you want. Just tell me you're okay, baby."

Sticky, suffocating, humid—perfect conditions for a night out.

Maybe your hair would frizz up; maybe your outfit would feel too tight in all the wrong places; maybe your forehead would glaze over with a thin layer of sweat, threatening to remove your perfectly done makeup. No matter what the consequences of your actions were, the payoff was worth it.

In all the years you'd been out clubbing, you'd probably only bought yourself a drink once or twice. Every other time, some poor guy who fell for your tricks would take care of you that night. Maybe you had to actually put out once or twice, but that didn't really matter to you. Sometimes, the guys were actually attractive—like tonight.

The man behind you was tall and lean; he had muscles, but they weren't the unattractive kind. Guys who were all big and bulky, biceps bigger than your torso in whichever direction you chose—they were gross. Not Jay—that was his name, Jay. Jay's arms were muscular and firm, you could feel them tense when your long nails scraped over them through his shirt.

His hips moved with yours; his pelvis pressing into the plush of your ass. His large, veiny hands splayed themselves across your stomach, keeping you pressed as harsh as possible to his body. The floor was so crowded that even without his efforts, the two of you would still be practically conjoined.

You could feel his hardened cock press against you, could feel his breaths pick up speed and form into almost-pants. Jay leaned forward, placing an open-mouthed kiss along your sweaty neck. "Wanna take this somewhere else?" His question was breathy, desperate.

You giggle, hands snaking up behind his head to pull him closer to you. You open your mouth; he leans closer to hear you. "I don't take strangers home—sorry."

Jay clicks his tongue, raising his head and glancing around the club. Everyone is in their own world, random shit filling their system and making them the only people on this mortal plane of existence. Jay's hands travel from your stomach lower; you feel the hem of your (very) short skirt twitch, ever so slightly.

"Why not—could be a good time," he almost purrs in your ear.

"I've tried it too many times to know it won't be a good time," you retort, pressing your ass impossibly closer to his cock. Jay groans, forehead falling onto your shoulder as he bucks into you. His hands shake as they continue to play with your skirt.

"Well, you've never tried with me," he continues. You feel the tips of his fingers, ever so lightly, tracing patterns on your inner thighs. You clench around nothing, swallowing a moan. The ghostly aura of his fingers teases you—they're taunting, telling you exactly what you could have if you just accepted his offer.

You don't want to accept his offer, though. You don't feel like bringing a guy home, letting him fuck you on your bed trying to be all sexy but failing, and then rolling your eyes for the next month while he doesn't get the hint that you're just not that interested.

You just want to get off.

"I don't leave women disappointed." Jay nips at your neck—you let yourself moan. You can feel his smirk against your neck, slow and cocky, already acting like he's won you over. "C'mon, baby," he tries again, "jus' lemme prove it to you."

You chuckle at his words, softly tugging at his hair before letting your hands drop to his forearms. "And how're you gonna do that if I don't take you home?"

Jay copies you—chuckling dryly as if you just asked him the dumbest question ever. And maybe you did, because suddenly, you feel the warm pads of his fingers stroke your wet panties. You buck your hips forward, chasing the friction as you breathe out his name. "Jay—fuck."

"There we go," he muses. His fingers keep up their movements—up and down, up and down. You feel your underwear getting impossibly wetter, his fingers teasing your pussy. "Lemme feel you," he whispers, "please?"

Your legs shake at his ghosting touches, desperate for more—anything that gets you closer to an orgasm. "Jay, we're in public."

"Look around," he groans, applying a harsh pressure to your clit that makes you whine. "Nobody fucking cares about anyone but themselves—wanna prove to you that I won't leave you disappointed."

You bite your lip, squeezing your eyes shut as Jay's fingers start to lazily circle around your clit. You don't tell him yes, you don't really need to, your reaction is enough. With the way your ass presses back to him, the way you whine out his name and brings your hips closer to his fingers—he knows.

Jay's fingers stop their teasing, instead opting to completely disregard your underwear and slip past them. When his fingers make contact with your pussy, the reaction is instantaneous. You whine out, grip tightening on his arms, and clench hard.

Jay chuckles, cooing in your ear as he strokes you up and down. "So, so wet," he begins, fingers prodding at your entrance. "The outline of my cock gets you this horny?"

"Mpfh," you groan, trying to stay quiet. Jay's fingers make contact with your hole, the tips of two of his fingers plunging deeper to the first knuckle. He holds them there for a moment, waiting for you to protest. When you don't, he starts to move—in and out, in and out he plunges them.

The music doesn't stop, the people around you don't stop, the world doesn't stop. Everything keeps going, keeps moving, keeps existing. Everything in the whole world circles around you and Jay—not bothering the predicament you've gotten yourself into.

And you're damn glad that's the way it is. Jay's fingers are thick, filling you up deliciously once he starts to plunge deeper, almost sinking the entirety of the lengths inside of you. His pace is quick, but careful.

He's keeping his word—he doesn't want you to be disappointed. The heat settles in your belly when his lips connect to your neck. Slow, languid kisses cover you as Jay keeps cooing. "So tight," he murmurs, causing you to clench.

Jay lets out a whistle at that, curling his fingers quickly. The movement takes you buy surprise, and you can't help the moan that breaks free. Your hand rushes to cover your mouth, and Jay just laughs.

"Quiet, baby, we're in public." He's mocking you now, entirely amused at the fact that you're letting a random man finger you at the club. His pace quickens with his words, clearly inpatient as his cock is still hard, leaking, and neglected from any form of relief that isn't the subtle grinding of your ass.

"Jay," you whine, "fuck, Jay—right there."

His fingers find that spot, and suddenly, the world around you doesn't exist. Your arousal soaks Jay's fingers, slowly dripping down his wrist and catching onto the sleeve of his shirt. Jay doesn't mind—he's got the most beautiful girl in the world coming undone on his fingers alone.

His name continues to spill past your lips, his smirk growing by the second. "If I can make you cum in the next thirty seconds, you gotta let me fuck you properly," he groans, biting down onto your shoulder, "deal?"

You nod frantically, the pressure on your lip increasing. He whispers something in your ear—a kind of praise you don't quite catch because the noise around you starts to dull. The only thing you have in your mind is the mission of cumming, the feeling of that sweet release.

And that feeling comes before you know it, crashing over your body and wrecking you entirely. You shake in Jay's arms, thighs crushing his hand as your knees knock forward. Your orgasm is silent—hardly any noise accompanies it, save for a soft whimper of his name.

Jay's fingers fuck you through it, continuously hitting the spot that makes you whine, jolting your body with overstimulation. "Jay—stop, too much," you cry out.

He listens, fingers slowing and settling in between your thighs. Jay kisses your jaw, his free hand coming up to grope your breasts over your top. "You gonna let me follow through on my words?"

His question is teasing, half a joke in case this wasn't something you really wanted to do. You weren't joking—you never were. If Jay's cock wasn't in you in about two seconds, you seriously might combust into flames.

You nod feverishly against his chest, swallowing the dryness that cakes your throat. "Yeah—yeah, lemme just," you let out a deep breath, "holy shit."