(play the embedded music for extra ambience!)

I'd been inside four women today. Yeji this morning, where her body fought to keep me the way she fought to keep everything, walls clenching with the same ruthless precision she brought to choreography, every squeeze a small violence born of devotion. Yuna at the pool, all desperate slickness and borrowed confidence, opening like she was trying to prove something neither of us believed. Ryujin on the deck, her body a map of everyone who'd passed through, accommodating in ways that felt more like armor than welcome, fucking me like she was trying to outrun something she'd never name.

And now Karina.

She was spread beneath me like an offering, legs parted wide, knees bent and falling open in a pose that should have been pornographic but instead felt almost reverent in the candlelight. Her massive breasts rose and fell with each breath, slow and controlled, deliberately calm despite the hunger I could see darkening her eyes, shadows pooling in the valley between them where candlelight couldn't reach. The lower curve of her belly was soft, feminine, rising and falling in a rhythm that pulled at something primal in my chest - the way distant stars pulse in patterns that predate language, that predate thought, that speak directly to whatever part of the brain still remembers being stardust. She was all curves and softness where Yeji was angles and lean muscle - a different geometry entirely, orbits instead of trajectories, gravity wells instead of velocity. My body fell toward hers the way planets fall toward suns, inevitable, celestial.

"I want to feel it," she'd said moments ago, and Yeji had guided me between those perfect thighs with her own hands, a benediction and a test wrapped in one gesture.

The air in the room was thick with the scent of jasmine candles and something sweeter, headier, Karina's arousal mixed with expensive perfume and the faint salt-musk of our earlier play. Cool air from the conditioning system whispered against overheated skin, raising goosebumps that faded under candlelight warmth, temperature layering the space like atmosphere on a distant world. The R&B playing from the speakers was all bass and breathy vocals, slowed down until every note stretched like honey, a cosmic hum beneath everything, the background frequency of this pocket universe we'd created. Outside the windows stretched darkness and stars, infinite witnesses. Inside, just the three of us suspended in warm, golden light.

The candles stood tall on the side table, fresh wicks burning steady and bright. Hours of light left in them. Hours we didn't know we'd need.

I knelt between Karina's thighs, my cock already hard despite the exhaustion settling deep in my muscles. Ten orgasms. This would be the start of the eleventh. My body shouldn't even be capable, but looking down at her - this goddess, this impossible woman - overrode every rational limitation.

Yeji's hand rested on my shoulder. Light. Anchoring. Her touch burned hotter than it should have, her palm slightly damp with perspiration. I felt her watching with her whole body, every nerve attuned to what was about to happen. Her breathing had gone shallow. I could feel the tension radiating off her in waves.

The first touch of my tip against Karina's entrance sent a shiver through all three of us.

Karina's breath caught, a sharp inhale that made her breasts lift, nipples visibly tightening in the cool air, peak flesh contracting from the temperature shift as blood rushed to the surface, darkening them to wine-deep rose. Her pupils dilated, black swallowing brown until her eyes looked almost feral in the low light, candlelight catching in the dilated wells.

Yeji's fingers tightened on my shoulder reflexively, nails biting just enough to remind me she was here, watching, present.

I pressed forward slowly, deliberately, and felt Karina's lips part around me.

The first inch slid in easy - she was soaked, ready, her body welcoming me with slick heat that spread like liquid warmth across my cockhead, slow honey-thick reception that made the cool air-conditioned room feel distant, irrelevant.

But at two inches, her inner walls started gripping. Different from Yeji. This wasn't Yeji's crushing precision, that ruthless squeeze that bordered on painful - this was density. Like pressing into warmed leather that compressed and molded around you layer by layer, yielding but substantial, her body temperature radiating through the contact until I couldn't tell where her heat ended and mine began. Pressure without pain, resistance that felt like welcome.

At three inches, Karina gasped. Her hand flew to my chest.

"Wait - just -"

I paused. Felt her pulse around me, rapid and fluttering. Her pussy was clenching - arousal mixed with nerves. The vulnerability of being seen. Being entered. Being known.

"Breathe," I murmured, my thumb finding her clit, circling slowly. A distraction. A kindness.

Her nails dug crescents into my forearms. I felt her trying to relax, trying to open, but her body kept fighting, kept protecting her from something her mind had already decided to allow.

"Let me in, Karina," I said softly, pressing forward another inch. The density was incredible, her outer lips fleshy and prominent, framing my cock as I pushed deeper, creating a cushioned seal that felt luxurious and foreign. "I've got you."

Her breath shuddered out. I felt the exact moment she yielded, felt the clench release, felt her walls soften and mold around me instead of resist. She made a sound, small and surprised, and I knew I could continue.

I sank deeper. Her inner walls weren't gripping now but enveloping. Creating pressure that came from mass rather than muscle. It was like sinking into warmed silk, into something that gave and gave without ever feeling loose.

"Oh God," Karina breathed, and the sound was startled, genuine surprise cutting through whatever cool composure she'd been maintaining. Her voice cracked on the second word.

Inch by inch. The wet sounds were obscene in the quiet room, soft squelching mixed with our breathing, the bass line from the speakers creating a counterpoint rhythm to the slick friction of penetration. Karina's breath came in short, sharp bursts, each exhale carrying fragments of sound too raw for words, pure sensation vocalized.

"Oh - oh -" A cascade of small sounds fell from her lips, unbidden, like she couldn't contain them. Her head pressed back into the cushions, neck arching, exposing the long column of her throat. Her fingers found my forearms and gripped, nails sinking in.

The sensation was overwhelming - pure enveloping warmth, her body yielding in waves as I pressed forward.

Halfway in, I had to pause. Necessity, pure survival, the need to process what was happening before my body made decisions my mind couldn't reverse.

"Ah -" The sound punched out of Karina's chest, high and surprised. Her whole body had gone rigid beneath me, every muscle locked, like she was trying to hold herself still enough to process what was happening. "Wait - just - FUCK -"

Her pussy compressed around me like heated silk, impossibly wet, slickness coating my shaft and running down to my balls. I could feel her pulse through the connection, rapid and fluttering, her heartbeat transmitted through the most intimate contact possible, a metronome counting moments that felt like hours.

My cock throbbed, and I felt her walls ripple in response.

"Oh -" She gasped at the throb, her eyes flying wide, pupils swallowing the brown. Her chest heaved, breasts rising and falling in a rhythm that had nothing to do with the music anymore - faster, desperate, overwhelmed.

Karina's nails scraped down my forearm, urgent, leaving pale lines that flushed pink immediately, heat rising to the surface. Her hips made a small, aborted lift, trying to pull me deeper despite my pause, internal muscles clenching around the half of me buried inside her, rippling invitation made physical. Her eyes found mine, pupils blown wide, lips parted around shallow breaths, a fine sheen of sweat catching candlelight across her collarbones. The silent plea in her expression was unmistakable.

"MORE," she breathed, and the word came out broken, desperate. "I NEED - please - MORE -"

Yeji's hand slid from my shoulder to my lower back, palm warm and slightly damp against my cooling sweat, the temperature contrast raising goosebumps across my spine despite the slick heat engulfing my cock. Her touch was possessive even in its gentleness, fingertips pressing just hard enough to dimple skin, to remind me of her gravitational pull even as I orbited Karina. "Slow," she murmured, but I heard the tension vibrating underneath the word. She was watching everything - my face, Karina's reactions, the place where our bodies were joining. I could feel her gaze like a physical touch, tracking every micro-expression, every shift in dynamic.

Her jaw was tight. I caught the movement in my peripheral vision - the way she was biting the inside of her cheek, the way her free hand had curled into a fist against her own thigh.

I pushed the rest of the way in one slow, deep stroke.

When I finally bottomed out - hips flush against her thighs, my balls pressing warm against the curve of her ass, every single inch of me buried in that heat - the pressure forced something loose inside her.

A thick, warm spill of her arousal pushed outward - earned by the entry struggle, forced out by the displacement of my cock finally claiming every inch of space inside her.

I felt it before I saw it - the liquid heat suddenly coating the base of my shaft, running down over my balls, slicking the crease where our bodies met. Then the visual confirmed what my nerves were already processing:

Wetness pooled where we joined, spreading outward like liquid gold in the candlelight, each slow expansion catching amber and shadow, the way distant nebulae bloom across centuries compressed into seconds. The slickness gleamed on her inner thighs, on the stretched lips framing my cock, turning skin luminous where light touched wetness. Slowly. Like watching time itself bend.

The music faded to nothing, or perhaps time simply slowed until sound became texture, bass vibrations felt rather than heard. All that remained was heartbeat, breath, the soft wet sounds of connection. The candles held their flames perfectly still. Outside, even the ocean seemed to pause between waves. All three of us watched it happen, suspended in a moment that stretched like light crossing vast distances. None of us breathed.

Karina's lips had fallen completely open, a breathy, unguarded moan escaping, the kind of sound that came from somewhere deep in her chest where she kept all the things she didn't let people see.

"Ahh - fuck -" The words broke on a gasp, high and helpless and utterly unguarded.

Then louder: "Oh my God -" Her voice cracked, climbing an octave. Her hands flew to my shoulders, gripping hard enough to bruise. "I can - you're so - FUCK - I can feel every inch of you -"

Her hips made a small, helpless tilt upward, trying to pull me even deeper despite already being completely full. The motion pushed more wetness out, made it spread wider, and I heard Yeji's sharp inhale beside us.

Karina's head thrashed against the cushion, dark hair fanning out, and a sound escaped her that was almost a sob, overwhelmed rather than hurt. Her thighs trembled where they pressed against my hips, muscles quivering with the effort of staying open, staying still, staying present when every nerve in her body was screaming.

Karina's eyes fluttered, struggling to stay focused, pupils blown so wide the brown of her irises had almost disappeared. Her fingers flexed against my forearm, nails creating small crescents in my skin - grounding, an anchor to keep from floating away.

Something shifted in her expression, wonder bleeding through the lust, surprise at her own reaction. Her breath came in shallow gasps, chest heaving, and I watched a visible tremor run through her body.

"Fuck," I groaned, my hands automatically gripping her hips to steady myself, or maybe to steady her. I couldn't tell anymore. My fingers sank into the soft flesh, dimpling the skin, and the contrast of my grip against her yielding body made my cock pulse inside her. "You feel incredible."

The only word that fit. Everything else felt clinical, reductive, missing the point entirely.

Karina's legs came up slowly, deliberately, wrapping around my waist, her ankles crossing at the small of my back. Holding rather than pulling, creating connection without demand.

"Oh God," Karina whispered, staring up at me with something like wonder bleeding through the lust. Her lips trembled. "I... you're... I can feel everything..."

She couldn't finish. Words seemed inadequate for whatever she was processing.

Her whole body trembled beneath me - a fine, continuous vibration that I felt through the connection between us, transmitted through cock to core, her nervous system speaking directly to mine. Goosebumps had risen across her chest despite the room's warmth, skin pebbled where cool air met overheated flesh, nipples tight and flushed dark. A bead of sweat rolled down between her breasts, catching candlelight as it traced the valley of her cleavage, leaving a glistening trail that looked molten gold against flushed skin.

Yeji's breath hitched beside us.

I felt her fingers dig into my shoulder, watched her jaw tighten as she saw the wetness spreading wider, watched Karina melting beneath me like candle wax. For a moment, something sharp and raw flashed across Yeji's face, possessiveness and jealousy and fear all tangled together, but she breathed through it, forced herself to keep watching, forced herself to stay present.

This was the test. Could she handle sharing me physically without losing me emotionally?

Her other hand moved unconsciously to her own thigh, gripping hard enough that I could see the whites of her knuckles. Her breathing had gone shallow, rapid, her chest rising and falling in a rhythm that didn't match the slow music anymore.

She was struggling. But she was staying.

I stayed still for a beat longer, fully connected to Karina but hyperaware of Yeji beside us. All three of us processing different emotions in the same charged silence. Heartbeats slowing to match the cosmic bass line, breathing finding synchronization without conscious effort, three bodies learning to orbit as one system.

The candles flickered, shadows dancing across sweat-slicked skin. Somewhere outside, the ocean exhaled against the shore, eternal rhythm indifferent to the small eternities we were creating inside.

Then Karina's pussy clenched around me experimentally, a rippling squeeze that started deep and rolled outward, and I felt her walls compress tighter, creating waves of pressure that made me gasp and my eyes nearly roll back.

"Move," she breathed, and her voice had gone raw, desperate. "Please, Minho. PLEASE. Move."

I pulled back slowly.

The drag was exquisite, every inch of withdrawal creating friction that bordered on unbearable, her pussy trying to hold me inside, her outer lips clinging to my shaft like they didn't want to let go. The suction was audible, a soft pop of breaking seal followed by the wet slide of my cock emerging inch by inch, coated in her arousal, glistening in the candlelight.

Karina's hips tilted instinctively, following my withdrawal, trying to maintain the connection. Her fingers clawed at my waist, desperate.

"Don't -" A whimper broke free, high and needy. "NO - come back - don't -"

Yeji's hand tightened on my shoulder with each inch I withdrew. I felt her lean forward slightly, unable to help herself, watching the visual of my cock pulling free from Karina's body.

When just the tip remained inside, I paused.

One heartbeat. Two.

Then I pushed back in - slow and heavy and deliberate, a claiming stroke that made time feel elastic.

The squelch was obscene, impossibly wet, the sound of arousal and acceptance and bodies joining. Karina's sharp inhale became a cry, her back arching, her breasts bouncing with the impact of my hips meeting hers.

"YES -" The word tore out of her, loud enough to echo. "Oh FUCK yes -"

Fresh wetness spread wider, pushed out by the displacement, running down the curve of her ass and soaking the couch cushions beneath her.

Her hands flew up to grip my arms, nails digging in hard enough to draw crescent moons. Her head fell back, mouth open, sounds pouring out that weren't words - just pure sensation vocalized.

I pulled out again until just my tip caught on her entrance, watched her pussy try to suck me back, then slammed home. The wet squelch of air displacement, her tits rippling with the impact, the force traveling through her body in waves.

"YES -" She screamed it.

I ground deep at full depth, pelvis crushing her clit, and she arched off the couch. Fresh wetness forced out around my shaft. Her hands pushed at my chest in protest but her legs locked around my waist, wanting more even as she couldn't take it.

I used that tension. Pulled back slowly, feeling her resist the withdrawal, then slammed home again.

"Right there - FUCK - right there -" Her voice had gone high and broken. "Don't stop - please don't - PLEASE -"

I thrust again, grinding deep, her nails raking down my arms in response.

Then I stopped.

Fully seated, unmoving, just grinding - circular motions that kept pressure on that dense cluster of nerves along her front wall and clit simultaneously.

"MOVE -" she gasped, hips trying to buck beneath me. "Please please please MOVE -"

"Say it again."

"PLEASE - I need - just -"

I gave her one slow thrust, then pulled back and stopped with just my head inside her.

"Minho -" Her voice cracked, desperate and unraveling.

Then I gave her what she needed.

Depth over speed. Each stroke deliberate, heavy, driving deep enough that her whole body shifted with the impact. The kind of fucking built on weight rather than pace - every thrust a statement, every grind a question she answered with her entire body.

Karina's body gave under each motion - breasts rolling with the rhythm, the softness of her belly and hips absorbing the force and returning it as cushioned pressure around my cock. Her mouth stayed open, gasping, eyes fixed on mine. The only sounds were flesh meeting flesh, the wet symphony of connection, and her voice breaking into fragments I couldn't parse.

"Fuck - FUCK - right there -"

Yeji's jaw tightened. I saw it in my peripheral vision - the muscle jumping, her teeth grinding together.

Another brutal thrust.

"Fuck, you feel good," I groaned, the words escaping before I could stop them.

Karina moaned - loud enough to echo, losing all control of her volume. Her head thrashed against the cushion, exposing the long line of her throat. "Don't stop - God don't stop -"

Yeji's breath quickened, coming in shallow pants that matched the rhythm I was setting.

Another thrust drove the wetness wider, practically glowing in the candlelight. Karina's pussy fluttered around me - rapid clenches that told me she was already getting close. Her hips started meeting my thrusts, small upward jerks that created even more friction.

Yeji's nails dug into my skin hard enough to leave marks.

"Harder," Yeji breathed against my ear. "She can take it."

I found a rhythm - steady and deep rather than fast, nothing about this felt rushed. A rolling wave rather than sharp thrusts, my hips moving in circles that let me grind against her clit with every stroke, creating friction in multiple places simultaneously.

Karina's hand slid between us, fingers finding her clit.

Her touch was different than I expected, lazy circles syncing with my rhythm. Adding rather than chasing, complementing instead of competing. Her legs tightened around my waist, heels pressing into my lower back, pulling me deeper into each thrust.

"YES - like that - God -" Her voice cracked on the word.

Each stroke was deliberate, measured, designed to let her feel every single inch.

I read her sounds like sheet music. When her breath caught on a particular angle, I adjusted fractionally - a micro-shift of hips, changing the trajectory by mere degrees until her inner walls yielded differently, pressure redistributing along my shaft - finding the spot that made her eyes go unfocused. When she clenched too hard around me, squeezing until the pressure bordered on painful, I slowed and went shallower, letting her breathe through it, my own breathing deliberately audible so she could match my rhythm. When she opened up, when her body went soft and yielding and wet enough that I could feel the slide becoming effortless, slickness coating us both with liquid heat, I went deeper and held there for a beat, letting her feel the fullness, letting her adjust.

Karina's eyes widened as she started noticing the adjustments in real time.

Seven thrusts in - or maybe eight, I'd lost count - I felt her breath hitch and immediately angled up slightly, changing the pressure point from deep to precise. Her back arched, a surprised gasp escaping.

"Oh - fuck - you just -" She couldn't finish the sentence. Her fingers gripped my forearms tighter, desperate.

Another thrust. She clenched too hard, her body tensing up, and I slowed immediately, going shallower, letting her breathe through it. She made a sound of frustration at herself, not at me, and I felt her consciously try to relax, felt her walls soften and open.

"Good," I murmured without thinking. "Just like that."

Her free hand found mine on her hip and guided it upward, pressing my palm against her breast - showing me exactly where she needed to be touched rather than asking.

And fuck, her breasts.

I'd noticed them before, of course. Everyone noticed them. Karina's breasts were legendary in ways that launched entire fan accounts, that made stylists strategize and photographers worship. But noticing and touching existed in different universes entirely.

My palm sank into softness that seemed impossible, skin fever-warm against my touch, yielding like warmed silk over deeper substance. Full and heavy, her breast overflowed my hand in a way Yeji's never did, spilling between my fingers like something too abundant to be contained, the weight substantial enough that I felt gravity working through the flesh. The mass of it pressed into my palm, warm and silken and impossibly smooth, and I felt her heartbeat pulsing through the tissue, rapid and fluttering, transmitted directly from core to surface.

I squeezed gently, experimentally, and watched her face transform.

Her eyes fluttered closed. Her lips parted around a breath that was almost a whimper. Her back arched, pushing more of herself into my hand, and I felt the hard peak of her nipple drag across my palm as she moved, seeking friction.

In my peripheral vision, Yeji shifted. The mattress dipped slightly as she adjusted position, and I felt the tension radiating off her even without looking directly - the way her breathing had gone shallow and tight, the almost imperceptible sound of her thighs pressing together.

"Oh..." The sound was small, surprised. Like she'd forgotten her own body could feel this way.

I kept my rhythm slow inside her, each stroke measured and deep, while my hand learned the geography of her chest. Her nipples were pale pink, small and delicate against the golden tone of her skin, standing in tight peaks that begged to be touched. I caught one between my thumb and forefinger, rolling gently, and her pussy clenched so hard around my cock that I saw stars.

"FUCK yes," she gasped, her hand covering mine, pressing it harder against her breast. "Just like that. Don't stop."

I didn't stop. I pinched, rolled, tugged at that sensitive bud while my other hand found her neglected breast, cupping and kneading the warm mass until she was writhing beneath me, her hips lifting to meet each stroke, breathing falling into sync with my rhythm. Her breasts bounced with each slow thrust, hypnotic in their movement, candlelight catching on the curves as they rose and fell, and I watched the way they settled and swayed with liquid physics, the way her nipples drew tight with each touch, the way goosebumps rose across the swell of them when I traced the underside with my fingertips - skin pebbling from cool air meeting the heat my hands left behind.

She was exquisitely responsive here. Every brush of my fingers drew a new sound from her, a symphony of gasps and sighs and broken syllables that told me exactly what she needed. When I flattened my palm and ground against her nipple, she moaned loud enough that I glanced toward the door. When I dipped my head and took the other into my mouth, she nearly screamed.

"MINHO -"

My tongue circled her nipple, tasting salt and something faintly floral - skin-warmed perfume mixed with the clean sweat of arousal - feeling the texture of her areola pebbled and tight against my lips, tiny bumps raised like goosebumps concentrated in a ring around the peak. I sucked gently, then harder when her hands flew to my hair and pulled me closer, drawing the sensitive bud deeper into the wet heat of my mouth, feeling it swell further against my tongue. The tremor ran through her entire body, transmitted from chest through core, and I felt her pussy flutter around me in response, internal muscles clenching in time with my suction.

Her breasts were directly wired to her pleasure beyond simple sensitivity, each touch translating immediately into clenching heat around my cock, into wetness flooding where we joined, into sounds she couldn't control. I alternated between them, mouth on one while my hand worked the other, and she fell apart by degrees beneath me.

"No one -" she gasped, her hips lifting to meet my slow thrusts, her breasts pressing up into my mouth. "They never - everyone just LOOKS at them, they don't - ah -"

I understood. Her breasts were objects to be admired, photographed, desired from a distance. Men were so overwhelmed by the visual that they forgot breasts were part of a woman, connected to nerves and pleasure and the desperate need to be touched properly instead of worshipped from afar.

So I didn't worship. I pleasured.

I sucked until she whimpered, bit gently until she gasped, kneaded until the soft flesh turned pink from attention, warmth blooming under my palms. I gave her breasts the same focus I gave the rest of her body, reading each response, adjusting each touch, treating them as part of the woman trembling beneath me.

Beside us, I heard Yeji's breath catch - sharp, involuntary. Her hand found my shoulder again, grip tight enough that her nails bit crescents into muscle, anchoring herself through whatever she was feeling.

When I finally released her nipple with a wet pop - the sensitive peak flushed dark and glistening with saliva, contracting further as cool air hit the wetness - and looked up, her eyes were glistening, pupils blown wide enough that only a thin ring of brown remained.

"You're..." She swallowed hard, her hands still tangled in my hair. "You're actually paying attention."

"That's the point," I said simply, and lowered my mouth to her other breast while my hips found their rhythm again.

The next thrust, she opened up completely, and I sank deep and held, grinding against her clit while I sucked her nipple, dual points of pleasure that made her entire body seize. Her mouth fell open silently, no sound coming out, just pure sensation overriding speech. Her eyes locked on mine when I lifted my head, wide and vulnerable, something breaking open behind them.

[KARINA'S POV - THIRD PERSON]

The realization hit Karina like a physical blow, stealing her breath more effectively than the cock buried inside her: he was listening.

Candlelight flickered at the edges of her vision, warm and golden, making shadows dance across the ceiling. The music had slowed to something syrupy and cosmic, bass notes she felt through the couch cushions more than heard. Everything peripheral, background noise to the main event.

The cock itself demanded attention first.

God, the fullness.

Her entire awareness had condensed to the place where they joined, every nerve ending mapping him in exquisite detail. The sensation was compression rather than stretch, she realized dimly - her body molding itself around his shape, tissue yielding and conforming, creating pressure that went deeper than her walls. She could feel him against places she'd forgotten existed, internal geography suddenly illuminated by his presence.

Yet the physical sensation alone couldn't explain what was happening to her. It was him.

She let herself look, really look, and heat unfurled in her chest. His shoulders braced above her, muscles shifting under skin gone damp with exertion. The cords of his neck straining when he pushed deep. His jaw, tight with concentration, the tendons visible as he held himself back, held himself steady, gave her time to adjust when she knew he wanted to fuck her through the floor.

He's beautiful, she thought, and the simplicity of it startled her.

Beautiful the way a held note is beautiful, the way restraint becomes its own kind of violence. She wanted to see his face when he lost control. Wanted to know what sounds he made when he stopped thinking about her pleasure and started drowning in his own. The want was sharp and specific and nothing like the vague appreciation she usually felt during sex.

She could feel eyes on them. The weight of attention from somewhere to her left, present as heat, as pressure, as the knowledge that this moment had an audience of one. Yeji's presence was tactile even without touch - the slight shift of air when she moved closer, the faint scent of her perfume cutting through jasmine and sex, the way the candlelight caught on her silhouette in Karina's peripheral vision. It should have made her perform. Should have triggered the Karina autopilot, all practiced moans and photogenic angles.

Instead it made her wetter.

The next slow thrust rewired her understanding of her own body.

His angle shifted fractionally and suddenly there was pressure against her front wall, deliberate and precise. That constellation of nerve endings where sensation concentrated like mass collapsing toward density - pressed and held with steady compression rather than stabbed or hammered like guys usually tried. Her internal muscles fluttered, wetness flooding out around him without her permission. Her pussy clenched, trying to pull him deeper, and she felt the ripple travel from her entrance all the way to her cervix, a wave of sensation that made her breath catch audibly.

Oh. Oh fuck. There.

Another thrust. He went deeper this time, and she felt the blunt pressure of his head kissing her cervix. Present without pain, filling space she didn't know was empty until he occupied it. Her lower belly went warm, that deep internal ache that came from being thoroughly occupied, from having no room left inside her for anything but him and the pleasure building in layers.

She could feel his pulse through the connection. Or maybe it was her own. The rhythm of blood and heat synced between them, a bassline she felt in her pelvis, in her thighs, in the place where her clit throbbed against the friction of his grinding.

When he angled up fractionally, the shift translated to seismic change inside her, the ridge of his cockhead dragging across the front wall of her pussy where nerves clustered dense as stars, each pass lighting pathways like constellations forming in real time, brightness spreading across her nervous system until her thighs shook with the weight of sensation. She felt him listening with his whole body, his cock becoming antenna, reading her clench and flutter like morse code. It was simply incredible; being fucked with instead of at, her pussy transformed from stage to equal partner in conversation.

When had that last happened? Jae-wook had been skilled but formulaic - the same technique every time, efficient but not present. The Yonsei party guys had been too overwhelmed by touching Karina to notice she hadn't cum. The trophy hunters had cared only about their own conquest.

And her body was answering.

She could map him now - the ridge of his head catching on her entrance with each withdrawal, the smooth shaft creating friction against nerve clusters on her front wall, the blunt pressure of full depth. Her body catalogued every inch, translating physical sensation into data her brain couldn't process fast enough.

The wetness kept building, her arousal forced out by displacement, by pressure, by the sheer volume of him moving inside her. She felt it coating her inner thighs, felt the slickness spreading where their bodies met, felt the obscene sounds of it echoing in the room. Her pussy was trying to adjust and failing beautifully, clenching and releasing in rhythm with his thrusts, each squeeze pushing more wetness out, each release letting him sink impossibly deeper.

She looked down.

Past her own heaving breasts, past the soft curve of her belly that she usually hated in photos, down to where they joined. And the visual nearly broke her.

His cock sliding out of her, glistening wet, coated in her body's response to him. The obscene pink stretch of her pussy lips clinging to his shaft like they couldn't bear to let go. Then the push back in, slow and deliberate, her flesh parting around him, swallowing him inch by inch until he disappeared inside her completely. The base of him pressed flush against her clit, his balls resting warm against the curve of her ass.

She watched it happen again. And again. Mesmerized.

That's inside me. That's him inside me.

The visual made her clench around him, and she heard his breath catch, saw his stomach muscles tighten at the squeeze. She did it again, deliberately this time, and watched his jaw go slack for just a second before he caught himself.

I did that, she thought, something feral and satisfied curling in her chest. I made him feel that.

When he touched her breast, rolled her nipple between his fingers, she felt the connection like a wire pulled taut. Straight from her chest to her cunt, sensation traveling the path instantaneously. Her pussy clenched hard around him, and she felt more wetness flood out, felt her body responding to touch in ways she'd forgotten were possible.

Her hands moved without permission. One found his on her breast, pressing his palm harder against her, fingers lacing through his to make him squeeze, to make him stay. The other slid up his forearm to grip his bicep, feeling the muscle flex with each thrust, anchoring herself to the source of her pleasure. Her hips tilted up to meet him, angle sharpening, and she heard herself whimper when the new position made him drag harder against that front wall. Her ankles locked tighter at the small of his back, pulling him deeper on every stroke, her body taking what it needed before her mind could second-guess.

But taking wasn't enough. She wanted to give.

She started meeting his thrusts, lifting her hips to match his rhythm, creating friction on the upstroke instead of just receiving. When he sank deep, she clenched around him deliberately, watching his face for the reaction. There. The way his eyes flickered shut for just a second. The soft grunt that escaped before he could swallow it. The twitch of his cock inside her, responding to her response.

She did it again, harder this time, and was rewarded with a groan that made her pussy flood.

She tried to keep quiet. Tried to swallow the moan building in her throat, because Karina didn't lose control, Karina stayed composed, Karina gave exactly as much as she chose and no more.

The moan escaped anyway, low and desperate, and she felt her cheeks flush - shame, maybe, if it didn't feel so good.

Yes. That. More of that.

She wanted his sounds. Wanted to collect them, hoard them, know she'd earned every one. Her nails dragged down his arm and his breath stuttered. Her hips rolled up into his downstroke and his rhythm faltered for just a beat. Every response she pulled from him felt like victory, like proof that this wasn't one sided, that he was drowning in her the way she was drowning in him.

The attention from the side of the couch had gone sharp, focused, but Karina couldn't make herself care. Couldn't make herself remember that there were rules here, boundaries, that this was supposed to be physical only. Her body didn't understand the distinction. Her body just wanted more.

This is what it's supposed to feel like.

Embodied. Present. Her nerves firing in real time, her pleasure building from being witnessed while it happened.

Somewhere in the rhythm, she made a sound she hadn't made in months.

High and helpless and utterly real. The kind of sound that couldn't be faked, that came from somewhere unguarded and vulnerable.

The sound echoed in the room, witnessed and catalogued, filed away as evidence of something she hadn't meant to reveal. The presence to her left had gone very still, very quiet, and Karina felt the weight of that attention like a hand pressed flat against her sternum.

She should feel embarrassed. Should pull the mask back on, remember that she was Karina, that Karina didn't make sounds like that, didn't fall apart for strangers while someone else watched.

But she couldn't find the mask anymore. It had slipped somewhere between the first thrust and now, dissolved into the sweat and slickness and the impossible way he was looking at her, like she was a problem he genuinely wanted to solve.

She could smell him now. Salt and skin and something warm underneath, masculine in a way that bypassed thought entirely, cutting through the jasmine candles and expensive perfume to reach something primal in her hindbrain. The scent of him mixed with her own arousal, thick and heady in the warm air, filled the space between them, made her inhale deeper without meaning to, breathing him in with each gasp.

She hadn't made that sound since Jae-wook. Since the last time someone had actually cared about her pleasure rather than their own ego.

Suddenly there was a sting behind her eyes. Tears threatening. The candles blurred in her vision, golden halos expanding and contracting with each blink. Confusion flooding through her: why am I getting emotional, this is just sex, this isn't supposed to MEAN anything, mixed with frustration at herself for letting her guard crack during what was supposed to be purely physical satisfaction.

This was supposed to be easy. A favor between acquaintances, bodies borrowing bodies, nothing that would leave marks. Cool air whispered across her overheated skin, raising goosebumps that faded under the warmth of his body above hers, the cycle repeating with each thrust like breathing. She wasn't supposed to feel like he was reaching inside her and finding parts she'd bricked over years ago. She wasn't supposed to want to kiss him in ways that had nothing to do with performance. She wasn't supposed to feel like crying from relief rather than pleasure.

The cool, composed Karina, the one who controlled every room she walked into, the one who could smile through exhaustion and flirt through boredom, had evaporated somewhere around the seventh thrust. What was left was just Jimin, twenty-five and overwhelmed, getting fucked open in front of an audience of one while her carefully constructed walls came down in pieces.

She tried to breathe steady. Tried to slow her racing heart, to find the center she usually carried like a weapon.

She couldn't.

This was the difference, she realized with sudden, devastating clarity. Everyone looked at Karina. The whole world looked at Karina, catalogued her face and her body and her movements, consumed her image in millions of pixels across millions of screens. But no one ever saw her. No one looked past the face they wanted to fuck and found the person underneath.

He was seeing her, and the recognition was undoing her completely. The music swelled around them, bass vibrating through her bones, and somewhere outside the window stars bore silent witness to her unraveling. The candles had burned lower, wax pooling at their bases, marking time passing in a way that felt cosmic and intimate at once.

But beneath the confusion, her body was doing what it always did: building toward release whether her mind was ready or not.

The pressure had become impossible to ignore - spreading from where he filled her outward through her entire body like heat diffusing through water, like energy radiating from a collapsing star. Her lower belly felt tight, coiled, something winding tighter with each thrust, temperature climbing degree by degree until her skin felt feverish despite the cool air washing over them. Her thighs trembled with sustained tension, muscles locked in position even as they begged to give out, sweat cooling in the creases where their bodies met. Her clit throbbed in steady pulses that matched his rhythm, swollen and sensitive and demanding.

She could feel the orgasm approaching like a stellar event - inevitable rather than sudden, building in layers she couldn't control, gravity gathering mass until collapse became unavoidable.

His next thrust hit that gravitational center inside her and something in her pelvis compressed, pressure concentrating into a single point that made her gasp. Her pussy clenched around him reflexively, trying to hold him there, keep him pressed against that exact spot where pleasure became physics. More wetness flooded out, her body preparing, slicking the path, making space for something bigger than pleasure. She was close, so close.

Her nerves were screaming now, every ending lit up and firing like stars igniting across the darkness of space. She could feel him everywhere - inside her, imprinted on her skin, in her lungs, in the rapid percussion of her heartbeat that matched the bass line pulsing from the speakers. The fullness had stopped feeling like intrusion and started feeling like completion, like her body had been waiting for exactly this configuration to make sense of itself.

The heat in her belly spread lower, pooling where they connected, building pressure behind her clit that made her hips buck. The candles flickered in rhythm with their movements, light and shadow dancing across sweat-slicked skin. She was going to cum. Soon. The realization crashed through her with crystalline certainty - a fact, her body careening toward the edge whether she was ready or not.

She hated that she loved it.

But she couldn't stop the way her body was responding. Couldn't stop the orgasm building low in her belly - from being seen. From being met where she actually was instead of where someone wanted her to be.

Her hand reached up, trembling, and found his face.

[MINHO'S POV - FIRST PERSON]

I felt her hand on my jaw - trembling, uncertain - and looked down to see her eyes break open. Relief mixed with confusion, with fear, with lust.

"You're... different," she whispered, almost to herself. Her voice carried emotions I couldn't quite parse: surprise, gratitude, vulnerability. "You're not... you're not like..."

She couldn't finish. Her throat worked, swallowing hard, and I saw tears welling in her eyes despite the pleasure clearly building in her body.

I didn't need her to finish. I understood.

Whatever she'd been through before this - whoever had disappointed her, used her, failed to see her - I wasn't that. I didn't know her history beyond the brief mentions at dinner. Didn't know the details of what had hurt her or left her searching.

But I knew enough to recognize someone being met for the first time in too long.

Her pussy fluttered around me, rapid trembling pulses that told me she was close. But it was different from the mechanical build I'd felt with other partners. This felt... emotional. Like her body was responding to something deeper.

Being seen. Being attended to. Being here instead of performing.

I cupped her face with one hand, thumb stroking her cheekbone, and kept moving - slow, steady, deliberate. Giving her exactly what her body was asking for without her having to say it.

"I've got you," I murmured, meaning it.

Karina's hand slid from my jaw to the back of my neck and pulled, not asking, not suggesting, just taking what she needed, bringing my mouth down to hers in a kiss that said everything she couldn't voice.

Her hips lifted to meet mine, their rhythm finally synced, finally collaborative instead of one-way. Both of us giving. Both of us taking.

And I watched her fall apart.

[YEJI'S POV - THIRD PERSON]

Yeji watched all of this happen in excruciating detail.

Her nipples had gone painfully hard, exposed where her sundress was bunched at her waist, tightening to stiff peaks that had nothing to do with the cool ocean breeze drifting through the open villa windows and everything to do with the heat unfolding inches away. Between her legs, a slow ache had started building the moment Minho pressed inside Karina, and now it pulsed in time with his thrusts, her clit swollen and throbbing against the damp fabric of her panties.

She watched Karina's face transform from confident seductress, cool and controlled and used to being desired, to vulnerable woman. Watched the exact moment the mask cracked and something real bled through. Watched tears well up in Karina's eyes even as pleasure made her moan.

And Yeji watched him.

That look. That focused, quiet, caretaker expression she knew so well. The one he only had when he was truly connected to someone, when he'd stopped performing and started actually feeling.

She'd seen it directed at her a hundred times. A thousand. In practice rooms when she'd broken down. In hotel beds when she'd let her walls drop. In quiet mornings when she woke up wrapped in his arms and he looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered.

A sharp pang of regret lanced through her chest. How many times had she deflected that look with casual jokes? How many times had she insisted it was just sex, just friends with benefits, nothing serious, nothing that could hurt her if it ended? She'd spent five years building walls around something that might have been real if she'd let it.

Mine. That look was hers.

And now Karina was getting it too.

Yeji's jaw tightened until her teeth ached.

Her hand on his shoulder had become a grip, knuckles white, nails biting into muscle hard enough to bruise. Claiming him through pressure since she couldn't claim him through words. Her other hand gripped her own thigh so hard the skin went pale around her fingers, so hard it hurt, physical pain to distract from the other kind.

Her eyes tracked everything with predatory focus. His face. Karina's reactions. The place where their bodies joined, where wetness kept spreading with each thrust. The visual of his cock disappearing into another woman, into one of her closest friends, stretching her, filling her, making her moan in ways Yeji recognized because she'd made those same sounds.

When he made that deep, helpless groan, the kind that came from his chest, unguarded and real, the sound he only made when truly losing control, Yeji felt jealousy surge through her so sharp it stole her breath.

And underneath the jealousy, something worse: want.

Her pussy clenched on nothing, desperate and empty and aching. Fresh wetness slicked her inner thighs, her body responding to his sounds with mortifying intensity, getting wetter watching him fuck someone else than she'd been all day. Her hips shifted unconsciously, seeking friction that wasn't there, and she had to bite her lip hard enough to taste copper to keep from making a sound.

"Mine," she whispered, so quiet only he could hear it. Her nails dug in harder.

Immediately followed by pride.

That's my man making another woman feel that good. My choice. My orchestration. My test.

She was strong enough to share this. Confident enough to allow this.

Wasn't she?

The jealousy twisted again, harder, and she had to close her eyes for a second and breathe through it.

But even with her eyes closed, she could hear everything. The wet sounds of his cock moving inside Karina. Karina's broken gasps. The slap of skin on skin. Her clit pulsed in response to each sound, traitorous, desperate, her body chasing stimulation her mind refused to seek.

He's not leaving you. He's doing this because YOU said he could. You're in control.

But was she?

She'd thought she could compartmentalize. Thought she could separate physical from emotional, the way Ryujin did, the way the industry demanded. Watch him fuck someone else and feel nothing but generous satisfaction at helping a friend.

I'm evolved. I'm secure. I'm not one of those jealous girlfriends -

Except she wasn't his girlfriend. They'd never said it. Never named what they were.

And watching him slip into that tender, attentive mode with someone else made her want to scream.

Made her want to pull him away. Claim him. Make him remember who he belonged to.

Made her want to prove something she didn't have words for yet.

Her breathing had gone shallow, rapid. Her pussy was soaking wet, she could feel it, slickness running down her inner thighs and pooling where she knelt, her body screaming for something her pride refused to ask for. Every thrust he gave Karina, Yeji felt in her own cunt, a phantom pressure, an echo of fullness she craved so badly her hands shook.

She wanted to hate how much this was affecting her. Wanted to feel only the jealousy, only the control, only the orchestration.

Instead she was dripping.

Aroused and jealous and proud and terrified all at once, emotions tangling until she couldn't tell which was which.

She was supposed to be in control.

She'd orchestrated this. Offered him to Karina. Guided him between her legs. Given permission.

But watching him give Karina that look - her look, the one that said I see you, I've got you, you're safe - felt like losing something she couldn't afford to lose.

So Yeji did what Yeji always did when control started slipping through her fingers.

She took it back.

[MINHO'S POV - FIRST PERSON]

Yeji shifted closer.

I felt her before I saw the movement, the heat of her body pressing against my back like a brand, skin damp with perspiration that made the contact slick and intimate, the softness of her tits flattening against my shoulder blades with enough weight that I felt her heartbeat through the flesh. Her hand slid from my shoulder and began a slow, deliberate journey down my spine, each fingerprint leaving a trail of heat.

Vertebra by vertebra.

Her palm was warm - almost hot - against my cooling sweat, fingers tracing each ridge of bone with tactile precision. Claiming me through touch, mapping territory she knew better than anyone. The contrast in temperature made me shiver, her heat against my cooling skin, the air conditioning making goosebumps rise across my arms even as I remained buried inside Karina.

When Yeji's hand reached the small of my back, she pressed firmly, redirecting my angle, adjusting my posture, making me aware that she was here, that she was in control, that every thrust into Karina's body was happening because she allowed it.

Then her lips found my neck.

The kiss was claiming rather than soft - open-mouthed and hot against the tendon, wet heat that made my pulse jump beneath her lips, her tongue dragging across salt-damp skin with enough pressure to taste sweat and exertion, her teeth sinking in just hard enough to make me hiss, to send electricity down my spine straight to my cock. She sucked a mark into existence - deliberate, visible, territorial, holding the suction long enough that I felt capillaries burst beneath the skin, pleasure-pain blooming dark - and my cock jumped inside Karina so hard she cried out.

"FUCK - what was -" Karina couldn't finish, her pussy clenching around me in confused, overwhelming response, her hands flying to grip the couch cushions.

She kissed my shoulder next, slower and more possessive, her lips warm and slightly chapped, texture catching on my skin as they moved, tongue following to soothe the roughness with wet heat. The gesture said mine louder than words ever could, her mouth lingering long enough that I felt her exhale against the wet mark she left, cool air on saliva making me shiver.

"Slow down," Yeji murmured, her voice dropping low and intimate, lips moving against my skin so I felt the words as much as heard them. Her breath was hot against my ear, creating a shiver that contradicted the command to slow down - made me want to move faster, harder, claim something I couldn't name.

"That's MY angle," she added, barely audible. "The one I taught you."

But it wasn't a request.

It was a redirect, gentle but firm, velvet wrapped around steel, reminding me who was orchestrating this, who I belonged to, who held the invisible leash even as I fucked someone else.

"She's already shaking," Yeji continued, and I felt her shift slightly, looking down at where Karina lay beneath me, watching the tremors in Karina's thighs, the way her stomach muscles kept clenching, the visual evidence of stimulation building toward critical mass.

I obeyed instinctively, easing my rhythm from steady to glacial. Pulling back slower, pushing in with more control, letting each stroke become deliberate rather than driven. My body wanted to chase friction, wanted to hammer into Karina until the pressure building in my balls found release, but Yeji's hand on my back - her lips on my shoulder - her voice in my ear - rewired my nervous system to prioritize her approval over my own need.

Karina whimpered beneath me, her hips lifting slightly to follow my withdrawal. "Don't - please - I need -"

I felt Yeji's smile against my skin when I adjusted. Felt her press closer in wordless praise.

Then she reached down and guided my hips with her hand - fingers gripping my hip bone hard enough to leave crescents, thumb pressing into the hollow just below my oblique with deliberate pressure that bordered on bruising, wrenching my angle to the left with absolute command. I felt the force of her grip travel through muscle and bone, redirecting me with the same precision she brought to choreography.

The shift was maybe five degrees - but inside Karina, it was seismic.

My cock dragged across a different spot entirely. I felt the texture change, the swollen ridge along her front wall now directly in my path, that focal point where all her nerve endings seemed to converge.

Karina's body jackknifed. "OH -"

Her pussy clamped down so hard I saw stars. Her back arched completely off the couch, only her shoulders and heels touching. Her hands flew to grip anything - my arms, the cushions, Yeji's thigh.

"THERE - oh fuck - RIGHT THERE -" Her voice broke on each word.

"RIGHT THERE - oh fuck oh fuck oh FUCK -"

I thrust again at the same angle. She screamed.

The angle served Yeji's preference rather than Karina's pleasure - I recognized it immediately as the one Yeji loved, the one that hit that perfect pressure point along her front wall when we fucked in missionary, the angle I'd learned through hundreds of hours of practice on her body. Yeji was reshaping the scene to revolve around her axis rather than Karina's satisfaction, making even Karina's pleasure flow through Yeji's architecture.

No matter whose body I was inside, Yeji was the constant. The center of gravity. The sun around which everything else orbited.

Karina gasped again at the new angle, her body arching, tits bouncing with the motion. Her eyes fluttered closed - losing herself in sensation, unaware of the power dynamic shift that had just occurred. "Yes - YES - don't stop -"

But Yeji wasn't done.

She leaned past me, her body pressing against my side as she reached around my upright torso, and kissed Karina.

Time slowed.

I felt Yeji's weight shift forward, her breasts pressing warm against my shoulder blade as she stretched to reach Karina beneath me, body heat radiating through the contact, her hand leaving my hip to reach out and cup Karina's jaw with fingers that were still warm from gripping me. Fingers sliding into dark hair, tangling in sweat-damp strands, thumb pressing against the hinge of Karina's jaw to tilt her head up at the perfect angle with practiced precision - possessive and claiming, the gesture of someone who knew exactly how to make another person yield, who understood leverage and pressure and the physics of submission.

Karina's eyes opened - startled, confused, still hazy from pleasure - and then Yeji's mouth descended.

The kiss was deliberate and controlled, absolutely dominant in its execution.

Yeji's tongue slid past Karina's perfect lips, past the surprise, past the hesitation, and claimed her mouth the same way I'd claimed her pussy - deep and thorough and unapologetic. I watched from above and behind, my angle giving me a perfect view of the side of their faces, candlelight catching on the wet slide of tongues, the way Yeji's jaw moved as she deepened the kiss, the way Karina's went slack in submission, lips parting wider to accept the invasion. The sound of it was obscene - wet and intimate, breath mingling, small gasps swallowed between them.

My cock twitched hard inside Karina, pulse jumping in my throat.

The visual hit something primal in my hindbrain - two beautiful women kissing while I remained buried inside one of them, the eroticism compounded by the power dynamic, by knowing Yeji was marking territory, by feeling Karina flutter and clench in response to Yeji's tongue in her mouth. My breathing had gone shallow, heart hammering against my ribs hard enough that I wondered if they could feel it through the contact of our bodies.

Karina made a small, helpless sound, muffled by Yeji's lips, halfway between moan and whimper. Her free hand came up instinctively, fingers tangling in Yeji's hair, and for a moment I thought she might try to take control of the kiss.

But Yeji didn't allow it.

She kissed harder, more aggressively, her tongue dominating Karina's, swallowing that helpless sound and returning it as a low hum of satisfaction. Her hand in Karina's hair tightened, holding her in place, and I watched Karina's resistance dissolve into acceptance - watched her melt under Yeji's mouth the same way she'd melted under my cock.

The kiss seemed to last forever. Five seconds. Ten. Long enough for me to feel every micro-response in Karina - every flutter, every clench, every fresh spill of wetness triggered by Yeji's dominance. Long enough for my own arousal to spike despite exhaustion, my hips starting to move again on their own, shallow thrusts that made both women gasp against each other's mouths.

When Yeji finally pulled back, she did it slowly, breaking the kiss with deliberate control, her tongue sliding across Karina's bottom lip one last time before releasing her completely.

Karina looked dazed. Lips swollen and wet, parted around shallow breaths, eyes unfocused. Like she'd been claimed and didn't quite know what to do with the feeling.

"Feels good, right?" Yeji whispered against Karina's mouth, close enough that I could see their breath mingling, close enough that when Yeji spoke her lips brushed Karina's with each word.

Her tone was controlled, perfectly measured, deliberately calm, but her eyes were bright with barely restrained emotion. Triumph and possessiveness and a sharper vulnerability. Testing herself. Proving something to herself.

"He fucks different when I'm right here," Yeji continued, and the statement landed like a claim of ownership. I'm the reason he's good. I'm the one who taught him. I'm the one who matters.

Karina could only nod, speechless, her tits heaving with each breath, chest flushed pink with arousal and exertion and the lingering heat of Yeji's dominance.

Yeji's hand slid down from Karina's jaw, trailing between her tits, over her stomach, and then lower - down between our bodies where I remained buried inside Karina.

[MINHO'S POV - FIRST PERSON]

I felt Yeji's fingers before I saw them.

Questing. Deliberate. Sliding through the slickness coating Karina's inner thighs, following the wetness to its source.

Then her fingers found me - found the base of my cock where it disappeared into Karina's body.

The touch was electric.

Yeji's fingers wrapped around my shaft just above where I entered Karina - thumb and forefinger forming a ring, creating a barrier, a gate, a point of control. The slickness made it easy - Karina's arousal coating me completely, making Yeji's grip slide smoothly as she explored.

I felt her thumb stroke along the underside of my cock, tracing the thick vein, pressing slightly, and the sensation made me groan - a deep sound pulled from my chest, helpless and raw.

All three of us gasped simultaneously.

Me - from the dual sensation of being inside Karina while Yeji touched me, the combination overwhelming my already overloaded nervous system.

Karina - from feeling Yeji's knuckles pressing against her entrance, from the added pressure of Yeji's fingers creating a tighter seal around my cock. Her pussy clenched hard, a fresh flood of wetness coating both of us. "Oh God - I can feel - both of you -"

Yeji - from feeling me throb in her hand, from the tangible proof of the power she held, from the slickness coating her fingers, evidence of what her man was doing to another woman under her direction.

Yeji's grip tightened fractionally, and I felt her shift - felt her lean in close to my ear, lips brushing the shell, breath hot and damp against sensitive skin.

"Don't forget who opened her up for you," Yeji whispered, and the words were intimate, possessive, layered with meaning only I could fully parse. A reminder. A claim. A test.

I'm the one who made this happen. I'm the one who allowed this. I'm the one you answer to.

"Never," I breathed back, turning my head to capture her lips in a kiss.

The angle was awkward, my body still positioned over Karina, Yeji beside and behind me, but our mouths found each other anyway, drawn together by magnetic inevitability. The kiss was different from the one she'd given Karina. Less performative. More desperate. Tongues sliding together with familiar ease, tasting each other, breathing the same air.

I poured everything I couldn't say into that kiss: apology for the morning's betrayals, gratitude for her trust, devotion that terrified me, need that had no name.

She kissed me back like she was drowning and I was oxygen.

When we finally broke apart, I saw something in her eyes soften, reassurance settling into the anxious places, the kiss acting like a reset button, grounding her in our connection even as I remained inside someone else.

Yeji smiled. Small. Knowing. Satisfied.

But she didn't move away.

She stayed pressed against my back, her body a warm weight anchoring me. Her hand stayed at the base of my cock, fingers wrapped around me, thumb stroking occasionally, a constant tactile reminder of her presence, her control, her ownership. Her other hand returned to my back, palm flat between my shoulder blades, and I felt her tits pressing against me with each breath she took.

Making herself physically part of the penetration.

I am the sun in this dynamic. Everything revolves around me.

And somehow, impossibly, it worked.

Instead of fracturing, the scene realigned. Yeji channeled the pleasure rather than interrupting it, reshaping it, making it flow through her rather than around her. What could have been jarring - her intervention, her claiming, her dominance - instead felt like the missing piece clicking into place.

I kept fucking Karina, but now with Yeji's hand guiding my rhythm. With her lips on my neck, pressing kisses between whispered encouragements. With her energy anchoring me emotionally even as I gave Karina physical satisfaction.

Each thrust moved through Yeji's hand first, her fingers creating resistance, creating pressure, creating a chokepoint that she controlled. Each withdrawal pulled groans from all three of us. Each re-entry was a negotiation between three bodies, three needs, three different kinds of pleasure all flowing through the same circuit.

Karina felt the shift too.

She reached up with one hand, fingers tangling in my hair, gripping, pulling slightly, grounding herself. "PLEASE - I need - both of you -" Her other hand found Yeji's thigh and squeezed, desperately, seeking connection to the woman who was orchestrating her pleasure.

The three of us moved together as a connected whole, pleasure flowing between us like electricity through copper wire, building and building toward something that felt inevitable.

[KARINA'S POV - THIRD PERSON]

And that's when Karina's orgasm started building in earnest.

It built slowly.

Not the sharp, sudden peak she was used to chasing - the hurried climaxes she'd learned to trigger mechanically with bad partners, the performative moans timed to make guys feel accomplished even when she'd barely felt anything.

This was different.

This was a tide rising steadily, inevitably, pulling her under wave by wave.

She felt it in her own body first, the trembling in her thighs intensifying, her stomach muscles clenching rhythmically, her breathing going ragged and desperate. Her pussy started to flutter without her permission, rippling contractions she couldn't prevent, her body preparing for release whether her mind was ready or not.

"Oh God -" Her voice climbed higher, panic bleeding through the pleasure. "Oh God it's - I can't -"

She tried to hold it back.

Old habit. Muscle memory from bad sex, from guys who came too fast, from partners who stopped touching her the moment they finished, from hookups where her orgasm was an inconvenience rather than a goal. Her body tensed, trying to slow her breathing, trying to maintain some control.

"Let go," Minho murmured, adjusting his angle fractionally to go even deeper. "We've got you."

Karina's legs tightened around his waist - ankles crossed, thighs clenching, heels digging into the small of his back hard enough to bruise.

Stay. Stay. Stay.

"Stop fighting it," Yeji added, her voice soft but commanding in Karina's ear. Her free hand moved to stroke Karina's hair, a surprisingly tender gesture that contrasted with the dominance she'd shown moments before. "You're safe. We won't stop. Just let it happen."

Karina's eyes found Minho's - and something in her chest cracked open.

They mean it.

She could see it in his face. Could feel it in Yeji's touch. They weren't going to rush her, weren't going to finish and leave her aching, weren't going to treat her orgasm as an afterthought or an inconvenience.

She didn't have to perform. Didn't have to chase her own orgasm while pretending the guy was doing something effective. Didn't have to worry about being rushed or used or disappointed. Didn't have to protect herself.

She was safe to surrender.

The realization unlocked something.

Her body went soft, muscles she'd been tensing unconsciously releasing, resistance melting away, walls literally and figuratively coming down. Her pussy opened up more, accommodating him deeper, and she felt the change immediately - felt herself yield in a way she hadn't been yielding before, felt trust manifest as physical surrender.

And the orgasm surged forward like a dam breaking.

[MINHO'S POV - FIRST PERSON]

There was a moment, a single crystalline moment, when I realized Karina had crossed the point of no return.

Her eyes went impossibly wide. Her mouth fell open around a gasp that had no sound yet. Her whole body went rigid - every muscle locking, back arching off the couch, suspended.

"I can't - I'm - oh God oh God I'm -"

Her hands clutched, one gripping my hair hard enough to hurt, the other clamping down on Yeji's thigh with bruising force. She was trying to hold onto something, anything, as the wave crested.

I felt it building in her pussy, felt the fluttering turn into full contractions, felt wetness flooding out around my cock, felt her cervix dropping lower like her body was trying to pull me in deeper.

Panic flashed across her face.

The sensation was too big. Too intense. Too much. She'd never felt an orgasm approach with this kind of catastrophic inevitability.

"I've got you," I said again, holding her gaze, letting her see I meant it.

She let go.

[KARINA'S POV - THIRD PERSON]

The first wave detonated.

Sound dropped away - everything became muffled, distant, underwater. The music still played but she couldn't process the melody. Minho's voice still existed but sounded like it was coming from miles away. Even her own gasps seemed to echo from somewhere outside her body.

All she could hear was her heartbeat.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

Fast. Frantic. Pounding in her ears like thunder rolling through mountains, pulsing in her throat where blood rushed too fast, vibrating through her chest wall until she felt it in her ribs, like the bass line to a song she'd never heard before, like the rhythm of the universe itself.

Her vision narrowed.

The ceiling disappeared - blurred to nothing, edges softening like watercolor bleeding into white. The candles vanished into halos of golden light, flames stretching to vertical lines. The room ceased to exist, walls fading to shadow. Her entire visual field collapsed to three points of focus:

Minho's face above her - jaw tight with concentration, eyes dark with lust and something softer, expression completely focused on her.

Yeji's hand - still wrapped around the base of Minho's cock, knuckles pressed against her entrance, tactile proof of who controlled this, who allowed this, who owned this.

The stars outside the window - infinite and impossibly bright, witnesses to everything.

The first wave crested.

Her pussy seized. A full-body clamp that crushed his cock with enough force to white out her vision at the edges. She felt her cervix drop, felt her womb trying to pull him deeper, felt muscles she didn't know existed squeezing in rhythmic waves.

Wetness flooded out around his shaft - a gush, hot and sudden, fever-warm against the cool air, soaking his balls, running down to pool on the silk beneath them in spreading warmth.

He couldn't move, could barely breathe - held perfectly still while her body detonated around him.

"Oh - FUCK -"

The second wave hit before the first had fully receded. Stronger. Deeper. More devastating.

Her inner walls began rippling - rhythmic contractions that started at her cervix and rolled outward in waves, milking him despite herself, her body trying to pull him deeper, trying to take more, trying to fuse them together at a cellular level.

The third wave.

Her back arched so severely her hips lifted off the couch, only her shoulders and heels maintaining contact. His angle changed with her movement, drove deeper, hit something that made white light explode behind her eyes and the scream finally building in her throat could not be contained anymore.

This was it.

The supernova.

Time stretched. Bent. Stopped meaning anything at all.

She felt herself at the edge of something - an event horizon, the point past which nothing could escape, the threshold where a star becomes something else entirely. Her heartbeat had slowed to a crawl, each thump lasting an eternity, each pause between beats long enough to hold entire lifetimes.

Thump.

The goddess mask cracked. The loneliness behind it spilled out.

Thump.

Every man who had finished too fast, every trophy hunter who hadn't cared, every performance she'd given when she wanted to be seen - all of it rose to the surface like debris before a detonation.

Thump.

Silence. The held breath before the blast.

And then -

Collapse.

[KARINA] The star folded inward. Everything she'd been compressed into a single point of impossible density, breath trapped in lungs that forgot how to release. All the weight of wanting, of waiting, of aching for this without knowing what this even was -

[MINHO] I felt her implode around me, inner walls crushing down with force that whited out my vision at the edges, stopped my breath, made my cock pulse inside her in involuntary response.

[YEJI] She watched Karina's face shatter and felt her own chest crack open, recognition, memory, candlelight catching on the tears tracking down Karina's temples, this is what it looks like to finally be held

Ignition.

[KARINA] Heat bloomed from her core outward - pleasure becoming transformation, spreading through her belly, her thighs, her chest until her skin felt incandescent. The friction of his cock became friction of becoming.

[MINHO] Wetness flooded out around my cock, hot and sudden, soaking us both, and I held perfectly still - letting her break, letting her burn, being the fixed point she could collapse against.

[YEJI] Her hand found Minho's shoulder and gripped hard enough to bruise, nails biting crescents into muscle. Pure witness without jealousy or control: see me seeing this, know what this means

Radiance.

[KARINA] Light exploded behind her eyes - gold, the color of candlelight bleeding through closed lids, the color of something precious finally given permission to exist. She could smell jasmine and sex and sweat, taste salt on her own lips.

[MINHO] I've got you. I've got you. I've got you. Heartbeat thundering, breathing ragged, holding her through the destruction.

[YEJI] This is what I have. This is what I almost lost. This is what I'll never let go. Tears hot on her cheeks, candlelight blurring her vision.

[KARINA'S POV - THIRD PERSON]

Supernova.

Everything she'd been holding back for months detonated in this single moment of complete surrender: the loneliness, the performance, the cold goddess mask, the disappointment, the ache of being desired but never seen.

She was burning, breaking apart, becoming something new through the destruction itself.

Supernova, the death that seeds new stars, the destruction that creates. From the ashes of who she'd been pretending to be, something real was emerging. Something that could want without performing. Feel without filtering. Be without the exhausting work of seeming.

The explosion reached its peak.

And then -

Nebula.

Soft. Glowing. Infinite and quiet and new.

[MINHO'S POV - FIRST PERSON]

When the scream finally came, it was primal.

"FUCK - OH FUCK - FUCK -"

The sound came from somewhere deep, from her belly, from her chest, from places that had never made sounds during sex before. It was loud enough to echo off the villa walls, to drown out the music completely, to probably be heard by anyone within a hundred feet.

It surprised even me.

Her whole body shook with the force of it, pussy clenching rhythmically around my cock, each contraction pulling me deeper, milking me with desperate intensity. I felt her cervix pulsing against my tip with each wave, felt fresh floods of wetness coating both of us, running down to soak the couch cushions beneath her.

I kept moving through her climax, slow steady strokes that extended each wave, drawing out the pleasure until it felt like it might never end. Yeji's hand stayed at the base of my cock, creating pressure, making every contraction more intense.

"That's it," Yeji murmured, her voice cutting through Karina's screams. "Let it out. Don't hold back."

"Can't - I can't - it's too - " Karina's words dissolved into broken sobs, tears streaming down her face, mixing with sweat.

The waves kept coming. Five. Six. Seven. Blurring together into one continuous rolling tsunami of sensation.

Her hands clutched at everything - sheets, my arms, Yeji's thigh - desperate for an anchor as her body continued to short-circuit. Her pussy kept pulsing - aftershocks rippling through oversensitized tissue, each one sending fresh sparks through her system.

"Oh God oh God oh God -" The words came out as one continuous stream, punctuated by gasps and whimpers.

When the primary orgasm finally released her, Karina collapsed boneless into the couch cushions - but I was still inside her, still hard, still feeling every aftershock ripple through her oversensitized walls.

Her pussy kept pulsing. Clenching. Unable to stop even though the main event had passed. I stayed perfectly still, letting her ride it out, feeling each flutter like a small earthquake.

"Oh God -" she whimpered, her hips twitching. "It won't - it keeps - AH -"

Fresh wetness leaked around my cock with each spasm. Her thighs trembled against my hips. Her hands opened and closed weakly against my chest, like she couldn't figure out what to hold onto.

The aftershocks rolled through, smaller now, gentler, but persistent.

Tears streaked her temples, disappearing into her hair - the kind that came from breaking open rather than pain, I could read the difference now.

"Holy fuck," she finally managed to whisper, when breathing felt possible again and words seemed like things that existed in the world. Her voice was wrecked, hoarse from screaming, shaking with emotion. "I've never... that was... I don't even..."

She couldn't finish.

Words felt inadequate for the tectonic shift that had just occurred inside her.

"Karina -" I murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her damp cheek.

Her hand shot up weakly, fingers curling around my wrist, not stopping me, just asking.

"Not her," she whispered, voice ragged and small. Her eyes met mine, stripped of every mask, every layer.

"Please... just Jimin tonight."

Yeji smiled down at her, a genuine, warm smile without jealousy or competition, and stroked her hair gently, rhythmically. "You needed that."

"Yeah," Karina breathed, her eyes closing. "I really did."

It seemed like for the first time in months, she felt satisfied. Truly, completely, deeply satisfied.

The stillness after Karina's orgasm felt heavy, thick with unsaid things, with pleasure still reverberating through the air like the final note of a song that refused to fade.

I remained inside her, still hard despite everything, feeling her pussy continue to flutter with aftershocks. Ten orgasms today. This would eventually be eleven. But for now, this moment felt complete in itself.

The music filtered back slowly, fading in from whatever distant dimension it had retreated to, becoming present again note by note, the cosmic hum returning to audible frequency. Something slower now. Dreamier. A different song entirely.

I blinked.

The candles.

They had burned down to half their height - wax pooled in thick, cooling rivers at their bases, flames flickering weakly where they'd stood tall and bright when we began. Hours of wax, melted. Hours that had felt like minutes. Like we'd slipped through time the way light slips through a prism, emerging somewhere else entirely.

Through the gauzy curtains, stars were still visible - infinite and witnessing and indifferent to the small human dramas playing out beneath them. The same stars. The same sky. But we weren't the same people who'd started this.

Karina lay boneless beneath me, chest still heaving, breathing slowly normalizing from ragged gasps to deep, shuddering inhales, heartbeat I could feel through our connection gradually slowing from frantic to steady. Tears drying in trails down her temples, salt tracks cooling on overheated skin. Her mascara had run, creating dark smudges that somehow made her more beautiful, less idol, more human. Her lips were swollen from kissing, parted around shallow breaths that were slowly deepening, lengthening.

Yeji knelt beside us, hand still pressed against my lower back, her palm damp with sweat. When I glanced at her, I saw something had shifted in her expression too. The jealousy had burned itself out, leaving behind something softer. Satisfied. Secure.

She'd tested herself and survived. Had watched me give another woman everything and realized it didn't diminish what we had.

If anything, it had proven how unshakeable we were.

Karina's voice broke the silence - soft, breathless, sincere.

"Yeji..." She swallowed hard, finding words. "Thank you."

Yeji's controlled mask flickered into something genuine. "You needed it," she said, but this time her voice didn't shake.

Karina turned her head to look at Yeji fully, and something passed between them: understanding, gratitude, recognition.

"So do you," Karina said gently.

Yeji's walls started to rise immediately. "I'm fine -"

But her body betrayed the lie. The trembling in her thighs. The way she was still clenched tight, visibly aroused, her pussy glistening even in the low light. The rapid rise and fall of her chest. The hand gripping her own thigh like it was the only thing keeping her tethered.

Karina saw all of it.

Yeji had shifted during Karina's orgasm, moved from behind me to beside us, needing to see Karina's face, needing to witness the transformation up close. Now she knelt at the edge of the couch, close enough to touch.

And slowly - carefully, like approaching something precious and fragile - Karina lifted one hand toward Yeji's face.

Karina's hand was still trembling slightly from her orgasm, fingers shaking as they found Yeji's face and cupped her jaw with unexpected tenderness, warm palm against Yeji's flushed cheek, thumb stroking the sharp line of her cheekbone.

I felt Yeji stiffen beside me, saw her eyes widen in surprise.

Then Karina pulled her down into a kiss.

It was different from Yeji's kiss earlier, from that dominant, claiming, possessive thing Yeji had done to assert control. This was grateful. Worshipful. Giving back what had been given.

Karina's lips moved against Yeji's with reverent softness, her thumb stroking along Yeji's sharp cheekbone, her fingers threading into the hair at the nape of Yeji's neck. I watched, transfixed, as Karina's tongue slid past Yeji's lips - gentle, coaxing, thanking her with touch and breath and the intimacy of shared taste.

Yeji made a sound, small and surprised and helpless, and for a moment she remained rigid, resistant.

Then she melted.

Her hand released the death grip on her thigh and found Karina's hair instead, fingers tangling in dark strands still damp with sweat. The kiss deepened. Softened. Became something mutual, reciprocal, beautiful.

My cock twitched hard inside Karina.

The visual was overwhelming - two of the most beautiful women in Korea kissing each other with genuine tenderness, their bodies close enough that I could see Yeji's smaller tits pressing against Karina's larger ones, could see the way their breathing synchronized.

I felt Karina ripple around me with each movement of her mouth against Yeji's, felt her inner walls squeeze involuntarily, still sensitive from her supernova moments before.

When they finally broke apart, Karina kept her hand on Yeji's face, their foreheads nearly touching, breathing the same air.

Then Karina's eyes dropped - taking in Yeji's body for the first time with real attention. The white sundress from the beach still clung to her frame, bunched and wrinkled around her waist from the quick, desperate fuck she and I had shared on this very couch what felt like hours ago but might have been minutes. Her panties were still pushed to the side, hastily displaced, the delicate fabric twisted and damp against her thigh.

Karina had been naked from the start - vulnerable, open. Yeji had stayed armored.

"Let me see you," Karina whispered, her fingers finding the hem of the sundress, asking rather than demanding. "Please."

Yeji stiffened. I felt it in the way her hand tightened on my shoulder, in the way her breathing caught. Being watched while clothed was one thing. Being fully naked in front of both of us - stripped of every barrier, every protection - was something else entirely.

Her eyes found mine over Karina's shoulder, seeking permission. Or maybe reassurance.

I nodded. It's okay. You're safe.

Yeji's resistance melted. She lifted her arms slightly, allowing.

Karina moved slowly, carefully, like undressing something precious. The sundress was already bunched around Yeji's waist, her perky tits exposed, but the twisted fabric still clung there - a last barrier. Karina's hands found the bunched material and worked it down over Yeji's hips, the white fabric sliding past her thighs, pooling at her knees before falling completely away.

Then the panties - still pushed to the side from earlier, damp and displaced. Karina's fingers hooked into the waistband and drew them down Yeji's thighs with the same tender care, letting them fall beside the discarded dress.

Now Yeji was fully naked between us.

Exposed. Vulnerable. Beautiful.

I saw the exact moment she realized what she'd allowed - her breath catching, goosebumps rising across her skin despite the warm air, pebbling from shoulders to thighs as vulnerability made itself physical, her arms instinctively wanting to cross over her chest before she forced them to stay at her sides, hands trembling slightly.

No armor, no control - only her.

Karina smiled - soft and understanding - and cupped Yeji's face again. "Let me take care of you now," she whispered against Yeji's lips.

Yeji's breath caught. "You don't have to -"

"I want to." Karina's voice was gentle but firm - a giver recognizing another giver, understanding the difficulty of receiving. "Let go. Just for a minute."

Yeji looked into Karina's eyes for a long moment, and I saw the exact second her resistance crumbled.

A small nod.

Permission granted.

Karina's hand began a slow, deliberate journey.

From Yeji's face, trailing down the line of her neck - I saw Yeji's pulse jumping beneath her skin, rapid and visible. Over her collarbone, fingers tracing the delicate bones. To her tits - a brief squeeze that made Yeji gasp and arch involuntarily, nipple hardening further under Karina's palm.

Down her toned stomach, feeling the muscles flutter and clench with each breath, then lower still.

Yeji's thighs were clenched shut, pressed together so tightly I could see the tension in her muscles.

"Open for me," Karina said, and her voice carried a command that surprised all three of us.

Yeji's eyes found mine over Karina's shoulder. I saw the question there, the vulnerability, the fear of losing control.

I nodded. It's okay. We've got you.

Yeji's thighs began to part.

Slowly. Reluctantly. Revealing the evidence of everything she'd been denying herself.

Karina's fingers slid between Yeji's legs, and all three of us heard the wet sound of contact.

"Oh God," Karina whispered, awed. "You're drenched."

It was true. Yeji's inner thighs were slick with arousal, swollen and flushed dark pink, lips parted slightly, clit visibly engorged. Wetness had been running down her thighs, pooling on the silk couch beneath her.

All the watching. All the directing. All the controlling. All the denying herself while she made sure Karina and I got what we needed.

It had all pooled here, between her legs, desperate and aching.

Karina's fingers slid through Yeji's wetness with deliberate slowness, exploring, learning. I watched Yeji's eyes flutter closed, watched her jaw go slack, watched years of practiced control begin to slip.

"You're so beautiful like this," Karina murmured against Yeji's temple. "Let me. I want to make you feel what you made me feel."

"Fuck," Yeji breathed, and the curse sounded like a prayer.

I was still inside Karina, not moving, just filling her, my cock maintaining the connection even as attention shifted. Every micro-movement Karina made translated through her body, creating small ripples of sensation around my shaft that kept me achingly hard.

Karina's fingers found Yeji's clit and began to circle.

Not randomly. Deliberately. Two fingers working in the same pattern I'd used on Karina earlier, slow and attentive, reading micro-reactions.

When Yeji's breath hitched, Karina adjusted pressure. When Yeji's hips bucked, Karina followed the movement, maintaining contact. When Yeji clenched and tensed, Karina went lighter, coaxing rather than demanding.

She was giving back what she'd received. Attention, presence, care.

Yeji's hand released its death grip on her thigh and reached out, one hand finding Karina's hair and gripping, the other finding my shoulder with nails digging in hard enough to leave crescents.

Losing control for the first time tonight.

I shifted my weight, freeing one hand from Karina's hip, and found Yeji's breast. Her perky, perfect breast that fit in my palm like it was designed for it. My thumb circled her nipple, hard as a pebble, so sensitive she gasped at the contact.

Creating a bridge between them. Connecting all three of us.

"Oh fuck - Karina -" Yeji's voice broke on the name, high and desperate.

"Feel good?" Karina asked, and there was warmth in her voice, genuine care mixed with the satisfaction of giving pleasure.

"Yes - don't stop - please don't stop -"

Yeji begging with helpless need, a sound I'd never heard from her, vulnerability stripped of all armor.

"You're beautiful like this," I murmured, my voice rough with arousal and emotion. "So fucking beautiful when you let go."

Yeji's eyes opened and found mine, and I saw tears welling - the kind that came from the overwhelming sensation of being cared for instead of being the caretaker, from surrendering control she'd been gripping so tightly her hands ached.

She didn't have to control everything.

She could surrender.

She could trust us both.

The realization crashed through her, and I felt it in the way her whole body went soft, the way she leaned into Karina's touch instead of fighting it, the way her hips began moving on their own, chasing Karina's fingers.

Karina's other arm wrapped around Yeji's waist - strong despite her soft appearance, pulling Yeji down and close.

"Come here," Karina murmured, and Yeji obeyed.

They shifted on the couch, Karina pulling Yeji down to lie beside her, their bodies pressing together with feverish warmth, sweat-slicked skin sliding against skin. Tit to tit, Karina's full curves against Yeji's smaller, firmer chest, nipples hard and sensitized where they brushed. Thigh to thigh, smooth muscle against soft flesh. Hip to hip, bones pressing close enough to bruise.

I remained inside Karina, but the angle shifted, my cock now disappearing into her from the side, the visual obscene and perfect, her body stretched around me while she held Yeji like something precious.

Karina never stopped fingering her. If anything, the new position let her work more deliberately, her fingers moving in tight circles on Yeji's clit, occasionally dipping lower to gather more wetness before returning.

She kissed Yeji's neck. Her shoulder. Her collarbone. Her lips. Soft, worshipful kisses between whispered reassurances.

"I've got you." Kiss. "Let go." Kiss. "It's okay." Kiss.

Yeji's control finally shattered completely.

Tears spilled over, running down her temples the same way Karina's had. Her breathing turned ragged, desperate. She stopped trying to be quiet, stopped trying to maintain composure, and just felt - moaning freely, no performance, no management, just pure sensation.

Her hips rocked against Karina's hand, chasing friction, chasing release.

I watched from my position still buried inside Karina, my cock throbbing with each sound Yeji made, feeling Karina flutter in response to Yeji's pleasure. The circuit was complete - all three of us connected, pleasure flowing between us like electricity through copper wire.

Pride surged through me. And love, so much love it felt like my chest might crack open. And arousal so intense I had to fight not to start moving, not to start chasing my own release, because this moment wasn't about me.

This was Yeji finally receiving what she'd spent so long giving.

"Karina - I'm - oh God I'm -"

"Please -" Her voice cracked, higher than I'd ever heard it. "Don't stop - please don't stop -"

"I know," Karina soothed, her voice tender. "I can feel it. Give it to me."

Yeji came on Karina's fingers with a sound I'd never heard her make before, a high, desperate keening that seemed pulled from somewhere deep and vulnerable and real.

Her body shook against Karina's softness, trembling through waves of pleasure - quieter than Karina's screaming explosion but no less intense, a breaking open rather than a detonation.

Karina held her through it all, fingers never stopping, working her through every aftershock, lips pressing kisses to Yeji's temple, her cheek, anywhere she could reach.

"There you go," Karina whispered when Yeji finally went limp. "Good girl."

Yeji gasped against Karina's neck, her breathing slowly steadying from ragged sobs to deep, shuddering exhales, heartbeat I could feel through her grip on my shoulder gradually slowing from wild flutter to strong, steady pulse. Her grip on both of us gradually relaxing, fingers loosening their desperate hold.

When she finally lifted her head to look at Karina, I saw something new in her eyes. Gratitude. Respect. Understanding.

"You're a giver," Yeji said softly, honestly, without her usual armor.

Karina smiled, small and sad and knowing. "In a world of takers."

"Not anymore," Yeji promised, and the words felt like a vow.

Silence settled over the three of us, full and heavy, the only sounds our breathing slowly synchronizing, the distant music reduced to texture, the candles' faint crackle as wax cooled and hardened. Heavy with transformation, with barriers broken, with something fundamental shifting in the space between our bodies.

I was still inside Karina, still hard, still connected. But the urgency had given way to something else. Presence. Awareness. The weight of what had just happened.

Yeji turned her head, and her eyes found mine over Karina's shoulder.

Five years of history compressed into a single look. Every fight we'd had, every reconciliation, every moment of trust built and tested and rebuilt. All of it present in the way she looked at me now, vulnerable and open and completely secure in what we had.

Give her everything.

The permission was in her eyes - deeper than physical, which she'd already granted. Permission to fully show up. To stop holding back. To meet Karina with the same presence I'd just given both of them.

Not because Yeji was insecure. Because she was secure enough to allow it.

I nodded my understanding.

The candles flickered lower, flames guttering in wax pools that had spread like small lakes across the table, their light softer now, amber fading toward gold. The music played on - something slow and dreamlike, a woman's voice singing about transformation and rebirth, bass notes vibrating through the couch beneath us like a heartbeat. Outside the windows, stars bore witness to three people who'd come together as fragments and were leaving as something more whole, infinite points of light holding steady while everything inside changed.

Karina lay between us, her tears dried but the evidence remaining in salt tracks on her temples, in the softness of her expression, in the way she held Yeji like something precious, in the vulnerability she'd finally allowed herself to feel. Her skin had cooled from feverish to warm, sweat drying in the air-conditioned breeze. The idol's curated warmth had burned away into something denser, warmer, more real.

Yeji's hand found mine across Karina's hip. Squeezed once. Released.

The moment stretched, suspended, perfect, complete in itself.

Then it released.

And everything changed again.

Intro | Masterlist | Series Index Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

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Author's Note

So this chapter basically became The Handmaiden meets Interstellar. (And yes, the title is absolutely an aespa reference, felt right for Karina's chapter.)

The supernova sequence owes everything to Park Chan-wook's approach to intimacy, the way he shoots sex as transformation rather than titillation, the slow accumulation of detail that makes vulnerability feel earned. And that whole section where time bends and Karina's heartbeat becomes the only sound is just pure Nolan time-dilation energy. The cosmic imagery (event horizon, gravitational collapse, nebula) isn't just metaphor here; it's an attempt to capture what ego-death actually feels like from the inside.

The structure here is deliberately inverted from Ch16. That chapter is destruction from Minho's POV, systematic, precise, the weapon knowing what it does. This chapter is receiving from multiple angles. The POV shifts (Minho → Karina → Yeji → back) let us feel the same moments from different emotional registers: Minho reading her, Karina being read, Yeji watching and struggling and ultimately surrendering too.

The role reversal at the end, Karina becoming the giver after being received, was the emotional spine I built everything toward. Two givers recognizing each other, "In a world of takers" - that line pretty much wrote itself.

The candles burning down to half their height was stolen directly from In the Mood for Love, Wong Kar-wai's trick of using environmental decay to mark emotional time. Hours that feel like minutes, the cosmic hum fading out and back in, time as texture rather than measurement.

The "listening" revelation, Karina realizing Minho is actually reading her body, is basically the thesis statement for his whole character. It's what makes him different. It's also what makes him dangerous, which Ch16 explores.

Next chapter: the destruction, Armageddon. Everything this chapter built gets systematically taken apart.

"Twenty more seconds," Hana, the instructor, said in that serene-yet-sadistic tone that all Pilates teachers seemed to master. "Keep that core engaged, Yeji-ssi."

Yeji was shaking. Her arms trembled as she held plank position on the reformer, sweat dripping down her temples. Every muscle in her body screamed. But it wasn't just the workout - though Hana was indeed a certified demon in Lululemon. No, Yeji was sore in places Pilates didn't target.

Her hips ached. Her thighs burned. There was a pleasant soreness between her legs that had nothing to do with inner-thigh work and everything to do with the three rounds of increasingly athletic sex she'd had with Minho before class.

"Time," Hana announced. "Beautiful work, ladies. Hit the sauna, hydrate, and I'll see you both next session."

Yeji collapsed onto the reformer with zero grace. Beside her, Karina dismounted her machine with the effortless poise of someone who hadn't been thoroughly railed that morning. She looked perfect - hair in a sleek ponytail, skin glowing, sports bra and leggings hugging curves that seemed to defy physics.

"You okay?" Karina asked, offering Yeji a hand up.

"Fine," Yeji grunted, accepting the help. "Just... worked hard this morning."

"Pilates is brutal," Karina agreed, though her tone suggested she didn't quite believe that was the full story.

They grabbed their towels and water bottles, heading toward the spa area. The sauna was private, reserved for their session. Cedar-lined walls, soft lighting, and the dry heat that made everything feel both relaxing and slightly hallucinogenic. Yeji wrapped herself in a towel and settled onto the upper bench with a groan of relief.

Karina sat across from her, studying her friend with those sharp, knowing eyes.

"So," Karina said after a moment of comfortable silence. "Did your trainee friend visit?"

Yeji's head snapped up. "What?"

"Minho," Karina clarified, smiling slightly. "You mentioned he might be coming down to Jeju. I'm guessing he's here, based on the way you're moving."

"I'm moving normally," Yeji protested.

"You literally groaned sitting down," Karina pointed out. "And you've been glowing since we started. That's not a Pilates glow, Yeji-ya. That's an 'I got thoroughly fucked' glow. I know the difference."

Yeji opened her mouth to deny it, then sighed. There was no point lying to Karina. They'd been friends long enough - leaders of competing groups who understood each other's pressures in ways their own members couldn't. They'd shared secrets, struggles, and more than a few wild nights over the years.

"Yeah," Yeji admitted. "He's here. Staying at our villa for a few days."

Karina's eyebrows rose. "You invited him? To vacation? With your members?"

"Is that weird?"

"Yeji." Karina leaned forward, elbows on her knees. "You never invite guys on vacation. You barely introduce guys to the group. You keep your fun completely separate from your work life. It's like... your number one rule."

"Minho's different," Yeji said quietly.

"How different?" Karina pressed. "You've been fucking him for what, five years? But I've never seen you look like this when you talk about him."

"Like what?"

"Like he matters," Karina said softly. "Not just as a good lay. Like he actually matters to you."

Yeji was silent for a long moment, the heat of the sauna pressing down on her like a physical weight. She felt exposed in a way that had nothing to do with the towel.

"He does matter," she finally admitted. "He's... the only person who saw me at my worst and didn't judge me. Back during training, when I was falling apart, convinced I'd fail - he was there. Helped me. Not because he wanted something." She paused. "Because he cared."

"And now?"

"And now I don't know what we are," Yeji confessed. "We say friends. We're not. We say casual. It's not. I invited him because I wanted him here. Vacation without him felt wrong." Her voice dropped. "I'm terrified of what that means."

Karina waited, sensing there was more.

Yeji stared at the cedar wall, the heat making everything feel both too real and slightly dreamlike. "You want to know something fucked up? During the world tour - six months, twenty-seven cities - I didn't hook up with anyone else. Not once."

Karina's eyebrows rose. "That's not fucked up, that's called being busy -"

"No, Rina, you don't understand." Yeji's voice dropped. "I didn't want to. Thought about it and felt sick. Actually revolted." She laughed bitterly. "You know me. You know what I was like before. Ryu and I were unstoppable - we'd share guys at award show afterparties, rate their performances over breakfast, drag each other to every industry party like it was our religion. I'd fuck a hot backup dancer in a hotel stairwell between shows. Wouldn't think twice." Her voice softened. "But on this tour? Couldn't even imagine letting someone else touch me. The idea made my skin crawl. And I couldn't tell Ryujin why, because I didn't understand it myself."

Karina stared at her. "Wait. You? Hwang Yeji? The same Hwang Yeji who used to leave award show afterparties with a different idol every time?"

"I know."

"The Hwang Yeji who had that thing with the Enhypen guys after KCON and then showed up to Music Bank the next day like nothing happened?"

"I know."

"What the fuck happened to you?"

Yeji was quiet for a moment. "There was this party. In Busan, before the tour. A yacht thing - industry people, you know the kind. I brought him. As my date." She paused, letting that sink in. "He met my members."

Karina's eyes widened. She knew enough about Yeji's compartmentalization to understand what that meant. "You introduced him to the girls?"

"Not... intentionally. They ambushed us. And afterward..." Yeji trailed off, something complicated passing over her face. "Something shifted that night. I can't explain it. But after that, the thought of anyone else touching me felt wrong. Like a betrayal. Even though we'd never said we were exclusive. Even though I had no right to feel that way."

"Yeji..."

"It got worse." She pulled her knees up to her chest, making herself smaller. "On the tour, I couldn't even get myself off properly. Hotel room, 3 AM, exhausted but wired after a show - nothing worked unless I thought about him. And even then." She stared at the wall. "Not enough. I'd finish and feel emptier than before."

Karina was quiet for a long moment, processing this. When she spoke, her voice was gentle. "How many sleepless nights?"

"I stopped counting after the first month." Yeji laughed bitterly. "I'd lie there staring at the ceiling, body aching, mind racing, and the only thing I wanted was to call him. Not even for sexy time - just to hear his voice. To feel like I existed to someone outside of 'ITZY's leader.'"

"Did you call him?"

"A few times. Late. He always answered." Yeji's voice softened at the memory. "He'd talk to me about nothing - his day, some drama he was watching, random thoughts about music production. And I'd fall asleep to the sound of his voice like some lovesick teenager."

Karina studied her friend's face - the vulnerability there, the exhaustion that had nothing to do with Pilates. "You know what this sounds like, right?"

"Don't say it."

"Accidental monogamy." Karina said it anyway, the words landing like stones in still water. "Your body chose him before your brain caught up. Six months of your system rejecting anyone who wasn't Minho."

Yeji flinched. "That makes it sound like I'm-"

"In love?" Karina offered. "Committed? His, whether you've admitted it or not?"

"I don't do that," Yeji said, but her voice wavered. "I don't belong to anyone."

"And yet here we are." Karina gestured around them - at Jeju, at the resort, at the situation. "You could have vacationed anywhere. You could have invited anyone. But you invited the one person your body spent six months refusing to let you forget." She paused, letting that sink in. "Why him? Why here? Why now?"

Yeji was silent for a long moment. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. "Because I couldn't take it anymore. The wanting. The missing." She swallowed. "Told myself it was just physical. That I needed to fuck him out of my system. But then he got here and I..." She trailed off.

"And you realized you just wanted him here," Karina finished. "Not to fuck him out of your system. Just... to be near him."

Yeji nodded, not trusting her voice.

Karina absorbed this, her expression thoughtful. Then she smiled - a genuine, warm smile that transformed her usually cool features. "You're falling for him. Or you've already fallen and you're just now admitting it."

"I can't afford to fall," Yeji said firmly. "Attachments are -"

"Weakness, I know," Karina interrupted. "You say that a lot. But Yeji, you literally glowed when you talked about him just now. Your whole face changed. That's not weakness. That's human."

Before Yeji could respond, Karina's expression shifted - turning darker. More tired. Now that Yeji was really looking, she could see the faint puffiness around her friend's eyes. The kind that came from crying yourself to sleep and hoping eight hours would fix it.

"Rina," Yeji said softly. "I heard you were with Ryujin last night. What happened?"

Karina laughed, but it came out hollow. "I almost didn't come to Pilates this morning, you know. I was going to cancel. Stay in bed. Wallow." She met Yeji's eyes. "But I wanted to see you. Needed to, maybe. You're the only person who actually gets it."

"Gets what?"

"Being lonely at the top." Karina sighed, leaning her head back against the cedar wall. "You know those Yonsei guys Ryu and I met at the rave last night?"

Yeji nodded. The Aewol Beach Club on Jeju's north coast had a reputation - it was where young, beautiful, rich people went to party and fuck away from prying eyes. Idols, actors, athletes, third-gen chaebols. It was like the Olympic Village of K-entertainment, everyone young and hot and horny.

"Ryujin had the time of her life," Karina continued. "She always does. And I..." She trailed off, jaw tightening.

Yeji waited.

"I walked back to the villa feeling like the most pathetic person on the island," Karina said quietly. "Five guys, Yeji. Five. And not a single one of them could..." She shook her head, not finishing the sentence. "I asked Ryujin what was wrong with me. Out loud. Like some desperate teenager." She laughed bitterly. "Karina. AI goddess. Begging for answers on a beach at 1 AM."

"It's been like this since Jae-wook," she continued quietly.

The rawness in her voice made Yeji's chest ache. This wasn't the polished leader the world saw. This was Jimin - exhausted, lonely, trying to hold herself together.

"You think something's wrong with you," Yeji said, understanding.

"I'm starting to wonder," Karina admitted. "Maybe I'm too high-maintenance. Too demanding. Maybe my expectations are impossible."

"Or maybe you just haven't found the right person yet," Yeji offered.

Karina looked at her friend, then smirked. "You mean someone like your Minho?"

Yeji stiffened immediately. "He's not -"

"Relax, I'm not making a move," Karina laughed. "But seriously, Yeji. If he's as good as you're implying, and he makes you feel like that - maybe I should be taking notes."

"He is good," Yeji said, unable to help the slight bragging tone that crept into her voice. "He's... really, really good."

"Good how? Like technically skilled or emotionally present or...?"

"Both," Yeji admitted. "He's patient. Attentive. He actually cares about my pleasure, not just his own. And the emotional side..." She trailed off, feeling vulnerable. "He sees me. All of me. Not just the leader or the idol. Just... me."

Karina watched her friend's face transform as she spoke - the softness, the affection, the barely suppressed longing. It was so different from Yeji's usual controlled demeanor.

"You need to figure out what this is," Karina said gently. "Before it eats you alive."

"I don't know how," Yeji confessed.

"Start small," Karina suggested. "You invited him here - that's already huge. Spend time with him today. Not just sex. Actually be with him. Go to the beach, take photos, hold his hand."

"Hold his hand?" Yeji looked horrified. "That's... that's relationship territory."

"Exactly," Karina said. "Test the waters. See how it feels. If it feels wrong, you'll know this is just physical. If it feels right..." She shrugged. "Then maybe it's time to stop pretending this is casual."

Yeji bit her lip, considering. It was terrifying. But also... tempting.

"I could try," she said slowly.

"Good," Karina smiled. "Take him to the beach this afternoon. Do the cute couple thing. Figure your shit out. You owe it to yourself - and to him."

"What about you?" Yeji asked.

Karina laughed, though it was tinged with bitterness. "I'll survive. Maybe I'll finally lower my standards and settle for someone mediocre. Or become a nun. Both seem equally likely at this point."

"Don't be dramatic."

"I'm sexually frustrated and watching my best friend fall in love," Karina said. "I'm allowed to be dramatic."

They sat in silence for a moment, the heat wrapping around them.

Then Yeji spoke, her voice hesitant. "What if... what if you met him?"

Karina blinked. "What?"

"Minho," Yeji clarified, the words coming out in a rush before she could overthink them. "What if you met him? Not as a hookup - I mean, unless..." She paused, surprised by her own suggestion. "You're not one of my members. You're my friend. You're safe. And maybe we could... help each other out?"

Karina stared at her incredulously. "Are you seriously offering to share him?"

"I don't know!" Yeji said, flustered. "Maybe? The idea of you with him should bother me more than it does. But you need someone competent and I..." She trailed off. "I trust you. And maybe it would be good for me to see if I can handle sharing him without losing my mind."

"That's either very enlightened or completely insane," Karina observed.

"Probably both," Yeji admitted.

Karina considered it, her expression thoughtful. "If you're serious... bring him by my villa tonight. After your beach date. The girls are going out - Giselle ran into some guy from her TIS days at the hotel bar, apparently he's a cinematographer for HYBE now and she wants to 'network.'" Karina made air quotes. "Winter's only going because Ningning promised her unlimited samgyupsal at that place in Seogwipo. They won't be back until late. We could have dinner, I could meet him properly, and..." She raised an eyebrow. "We'll see where the night goes."

"Okay," Yeji agreed, her heart pounding. "Okay, yeah. Tonight."

"But first," Karina said firmly, "go spend the afternoon with him. Hold his hand. Talk to him. Figure out your feelings. Because if you're going to share him with me, I need to know you're doing it for the right reasons - not because you're scared of what he means to you."

Yeji nodded slowly. "You're right. I'll... I'll take him to the beach."

"Good." Karina stood up, stretching languidly. "Now let's get out of here before we melt. And Yeji?"

"Yeah?"

"For what it's worth, I think he'd be an idiot not to be in love with you too."

***

[PRESENT - AESPA'S VILLA, EVENING] [MINHO'S POV - FIRST PERSON]

I stood in Karina's villa, feeling like I'd stepped into an alternate dimension. The layout was identical to ours, but the atmosphere was completely different - dimmer, more intimate, with expensive candles burning and smooth R&B floating through hidden speakers. It felt like walking onto the set of a music video for a song about seduction.

Yeji had pulled her hair up as we walked over - a quick, practiced motion, twisting the salt-stiffened strands into her signature high ponytail. Beach goddess to put-together Yeji in three seconds flat. Some things were muscle memory.

And standing in front of me, like a vision designed to short-circuit every male brain cell, was Yu Jimin. Karina. aespa's leader and Korea's AI-human hybrid goddess made flesh.

The silk robe she wore was a deep emerald green, held closed by a thin sash that looked like it would come undone with the slightest tug. It hung off one shoulder, revealing the elegant line of her collarbone and a tantalizing hint of what lay beneath. Her hair was down, falling in dark waves past her shoulders, and her face - god, her face was almost unfair. High cheekbones, a small nose, lips that looked perpetually swollen and kissable, and eyes that saw right through you.

But it was her body that made my mouth go dry. Even through the silk, I could see the curves - the impossible ratio of tiny waist to wide hips. And her chest... Jesus Christ. Her breasts were massive, straining against the fabric, the kind of proportions that defied reality. I knew from countless photo shoots and fan cams that she was stacked, but seeing her in person, up close, with only thin silk between her and nakedness - it was overwhelming.

"You must be Minho," she said, her voice warm and welcoming - nothing like the ice queen image Dispatch loved to push. She smiled - genuine and kind - and offered her hand. "Yeji talks about you. A lot."

She tried to wink. Her mouth fell open.

It was the most humanizing thing I'd ever seen a celebrity do - this goddess with the AI-perfect face, attempting a simple wink and failing spectacularly. Her lips formed a little 'o' of concentration, one eye scrunching closed while the other stayed stubbornly half-open.

"Still can't do it, huh," Yeji observed dryly.

"Shut up," Karina laughed, dropping the attempt. "It's a medical condition."

"It's really not."

I found myself grinning. "The face that launched a thousand AI comparisons, defeated by basic motor function."

Karina's eyes widened - loss for words. Then delighted. "Oh, he's funny. You didn't mention he was funny."

"He has his moments," Yeji allowed.

"Anyway," I managed, finally shaking her hand. "All good things, I hope." Her fingers were soft, delicate, but her grip was firm.

"The best things," she assured me, eyes still bright with amusement from my comment.

I felt Yeji squeeze my hand - oh right, we were still holding hands. That realization hit me again. We'd walked here hand-in-hand like an actual couple. And Karina had noticed.

"Come in, sit," Karina urged, leading us into the living area. "I ordered dinner. I figured you two probably worked up an appetite on the beach."

The moment we entered, I smelled it - garlic, butter, something rich and meaty hitting the back of my throat, making my mouth water instantly. Not the complex layered scents of Korean food, but something more direct. Primal. Western decadence.

The dining table looked like it had been styled for a Michelin guide photoshoot.

Two massive ribeye steaks dominated the center - each one had to be at least 400 grams, maybe more. They were perfectly seared, the exterior crusted dark brown and caramelized, char marks from a screaming-hot grill creating a crosshatch pattern. But the center - you could see it from the side where they'd been cut to test doneness - was a deep, blushing pink. Medium-rare. The marbling was insane, white fat threaded through the meat like lace, and herb butter was melting over the top in slow, golden rivulets, pooling on the plate beneath.

Fresh pasta - not the dried shit, actual fresh tagliatelle - was piled high in a wide ceramic bowl, each ribbon of pasta slick with what looked like a brown butter sauce. And on top, shaved so thin they were almost translucent, were slices of black truffle. Not truffle oil. Actual fucking truffle. The scent was earthy, pungent, almost overwhelming. Shavings of Parmigiano-Reggiano were scattered over it like snow.

A burrata salad sat beside it on a slate board - the cheese was obscene, the outer shell still holding its shape but clearly about to burst, already weeping cream from a small tear in the side. It was surrounded by heirloom tomatoes in every color - red, yellow, deep purple - sliced thick and drizzled with olive oil so green it looked like it had been pressed that morning. Fresh basil leaves, flaky sea salt, cracked black pepper, and a drizzle of what might have been aged balsamic, thick and syrupy.

Roasted vegetables on another platter - asparagus spears as thick as my thumb, charred at the tips, sitting in a pool of lemon-herb butter. Baby carrots still with their green tops attached, roasted until caramelized. Fingerling potatoes crispy and golden, split open to reveal fluffy white interiors, sprinkled with rosemary and coarse salt.

A bread basket held what looked like fresh sourdough - a rustic loaf with a crackling crust, already torn open to reveal an airy, hole-filled crumb. Compound butter sat beside it, flecked with herbs and garlic.

And the wine. Dark bottle, label in French, the kind of wine that didn't need to announce itself because the price did the talking. Karina had already opened it to let it breathe - the bottle sat there, three glasses waiting, the wine inside so dark it was almost black.

"This is incredible," I said honestly as we sat down, and I meant it. The whole spread probably cost more than a week's salary. Maybe two.

"I figured you deserved a proper date-night finish," Karina said, pouring the wine. She caught my expression and laughed. "Oh, Yeji didn't tell you? I'm the one who suggested the whole beach date thing. The hand-holding too. She was terrified you'd freak out."

"I didn't freak out," I said, looking at Yeji. "I liked it."

Yeji blushed - actually blushed - and took a long sip of her wine. "It was... nice," she admitted quietly.

"It was adorable," Karina corrected. "Now eat. I want to hear everything."

The meal was delicious, and the wine loosened us all up. The conversation flowed easily - Karina asking about my work, my history with Yeji, what it was like watching the industry from the outside. I asked about aespa, about the pressures of being a leader, about how she handled the insane beauty standards.

"Plastic surgery rumors never stop," Karina said with a shrug, cutting into her steak. "People can't believe this is natural." She gestured to her chest without a hint of self-consciousness. "But it is. Just genetics. My mom is the same way."

"It must be frustrating," Yeji said. "The constant speculation."

"It's exhausting," Karina admitted. "Everyone wants to either worship you or tear you down. There's no middle ground when you look like this." She said it matter-of-factly, without arrogance - just stating reality.

I couldn't help but steal glances at her throughout the meal. The way the silk clung to her curves. The hint of cleavage visible at the open collar. The graceful way she moved, every gesture deliberate and elegant. She caught me looking more than once and smiled, amused rather than offended.

"So," Karina said eventually, refilling our glasses. "What did you two end up doing on the beach? Besides the obvious."

Yeji nearly choked on her wine. "The obvious?"

"Oh please." Karina's laugh was warm, delighted. "You told me you blew him on the beach. I suggested the date - didn't expect you to get that romantic."

"I -" Yeji's face went crimson. "That's not - we did, but - it wasn't -"

"Yeji-ya, relax." Karina waved her hand, grinning. "I think it's sweet. You hate giving head. The fact that you do it for him? Says something."

"How do you know she hates it?" I asked, curious.

"Because she's told me," Karina said. "Multiple times. She finds it boring, says it makes her jaw hurt, doesn't understand why guys love it so much. But apparently for you, she makes an exception."

I looked at Yeji, who was staring intently at her plate. "You didn't have to," I said softly.

"I wanted to," she mumbled. "It's different. With you. It's... I don't know. Means something."

The admission hung in the air, heavy with implication.

Karina watched the exchange with an expression I couldn't quite read - something between fondness and melancholy. Then she drained her glass and set it down with a decisive click.

"You two are disgusting." Her voice was fond, almost wistful. "In the best way."

"Jealous?" Yeji teased, recovering her composure.

"Extremely." Karina laughed, but there was an edge to it. She refilled her wine glass, took a long sip, and leaned back in her chair. "You want to know something pathetic? Last night I let five guys fuck me at a villa party. Yonsei boys - tall, athletic, objectively hot. You know how many of them made me cum?"

I nearly choked on my wine.

"Zero," Karina continued, unfazed by my reaction. "Not a single one. They'd last maybe twenty, thirty seconds inside me before finishing. One guy literally came while he was still putting it in. And they'd all act so proud of themselves afterward, like fucking Karina was some achievement they'd unlocked." She swirled her wine, staring into it. "Meanwhile Ryujin was in the next room having the time of her life with my rejects."

"That's..." I searched for words. "Frustrating."

"It's humiliating." Quieter now. "I'm supposed to be this untouchable goddess, right? Can't find a single guy who can actually... They're either too starstruck to function or they're trying to add me to their list. None of them care if I actually enjoy it."

She looked up at me directly, and I saw something vulnerable beneath the polished surface - a real person behind the AI-perfect facade.

"It's been like this since my ex," she admitted. "He was the only one who could handle me. Who wasn't intimidated. Who actually took charge and made me feel good. But that relationship was impossible - both of us public figures, the pressure, the hiding." She shrugged, but the gesture was too casual to be genuine. "Now I guess I'm stuck measuring everyone against him and they all fall short."

The silence that followed was heavy. Yeji reached across the table and squeezed Karina's hand briefly - a gesture of feminine solidarity that excluded me entirely, and rightfully so.

Karina smiled at her friend, then turned back to me with a look that was half-challenge, half-curiosity.

"So." Her tone shifted, playful again. "How's your sex life? Because from what Yeji's told me, watching you two just now..." She gestured at the space between us. "Starting to think she's been holding out on just how good you are."

I nearly spat out my wine. "Um. What?"

"You heard me. Your sex life." Karina's laugh was low and warm, the kind of sound that came from her chest rather than her throat - sophisticated amusement mixed with genuine affection. Not the practiced idol giggle but something real, knowing, the laugh of someone who saw through people's defenses and found it endearing rather than annoying. "I'm serious. Yeji was telling me about her solo debut plans earlier, and it made me wonder - how do you balance this with everything else? The secrecy, the scheduling, the pressure?"

"It's good," I said carefully, acutely aware of Karina's cleavage in my peripheral vision and the way her lips curved into a knowing smile. "We make it work."

"Just good?"

"Well, we certainly do it a lot," Yeji said with a laugh, clearly trying to ease the tension. "Like, a lot. Especially today."

"Three times today," Karina observed. "You had Yeji dying during Pilates, you know that?"

"Four times," I corrected. "The last one happened at -" I stopped, realizing what I'd just admitted.

Karina's smile widened. "Oh? Something happened before I answered the door?"

"The beach blowjob," Yeji clarified, saving me. "That was the fourth."

"Ah." Karina leaned back in her chair, studying us both. "So you're physically compatible. That's obvious. But are you emotionally compatible? Because from where I'm sitting, you two look like a couple that's too stubborn to admit what they are."

"We're complicated," Yeji said, her default answer.

"You're scared," Karina countered gently. "Both of you. Scared of defining it, scared of what happens if you admit it's more than casual." She paused, studying us both with that penetrating gaze. "Look. You two are cute together. Really cute. And I've been sitting here all night watching you hold hands and blush and do this entire dance around what's obvious to everyone but you."

She set her wine glass down with deliberate care. "But I'm tipsy, I'm full, and I've been waiting since this morning for Yeji to bring you here. And I haven't had good sex in months." Her eyes met mine directly. "So here's what's going to happen. I'm going to help you see what you're too stubborn to admit. And you -" she gestured between us, "- are going to help me with my problem. Everyone wins."

The air left the room.

Karina stood up from the table, the silk robe swishing around her legs. She didn't rush - didn't need to. Just moved with that effortless rhythm, hips swaying slightly, a hint of a smile playing at her lips like she was enjoying a private joke. She walked over to where I sat with the easy confidence of someone who'd never been told no in her life and didn't plan to start hearing it now.

She took my hand and placed it on her waist, over the silk. I felt the curve of her hip, the warmth of her skin beneath the thin fabric. My heart hammered in my chest.

"Like Yeji promised," Karina whispered, her face inches from mine, eyes dark with want, "you're going to help a friend out."

I looked at Yeji. She was standing now too, her face a mixture of nervousness and determination. She walked over and took my other hand, squeezing it.

"Couch." Yeji's voice steady despite the tremor in her fingers. "Now."

We moved as a unit - this surreal trio - toward the massive L-shaped sectional. The lighting seemed to dim further, or maybe that was just my vision tunneling. The music seemed louder, the bass thrumming through my chest.

Karina turned to face Yeji first. "May I?" she asked, surprisingly polite given the situation.

Yeji nodded, her throat working as she swallowed.

Karina leaned in and kissed her.

It was slow, exploratory - tongues meeting, lips sliding together in a dance that looked practiced. Karina's hands framed Yeji's face, tilting it up, while Yeji's hands found Karina's waist, pulling her closer.

I watched, transfixed, barely breathing. The visual contrast was stunning - Yeji, all sharp angles and lean muscle, fierce even in vulnerability. Karina, all soft curves and abundant femininity, elegant even in lust. They kissed like longtime lovers, comfortable and assured.

Karina's hand slid down to the zipper of Yeji's sundress, tugging it down. The dress fell to Yeji's waist, revealing that she hadn't bothered with a bra going out to the beach. Her perky, athletic breasts were on full display, nipples already hard.

They broke apart, both breathing heavily. Karina reached for the sash of her robe and pulled. It fell open.

My breath caught.

She was completely naked underneath. And she was... perfect. Her breasts were enormous - easily D-cup, maybe bigger - with small, pale areolas and nipples that stood erect. Her waist was impossibly small, flaring out to wide, childbearing hips. Her stomach was soft but flat. And between her legs was a perfectly groomed pussy, smooth and inviting.

She let the robe fall off her shoulders entirely, standing there in all her glory like a fertility goddess come to life.

"Holy fuck," I breathed.

Karina smiled - that sophisticated, knowing smile - and turned her attention to me. She knelt between my legs with the grace of royalty deigning to lower herself. Her hands reached for my waistband.

"Let's see if Yeji's been bragging or telling the truth," she purred, pulling my shorts down my legs with deliberate slowness. There was something about the contrast - the elegance of her movements juxtaposed with the raw hunger in her eyes. She moved like a woman of her status, but she was pulling my shorts down like a cock-hungry whore desperate for her next meal.

"Yes..." Karina groaned as my boxer briefs came into view, the fabric already tented obscenely. She kept those gorgeous, AI-perfect eyes locked on mine as she leaned forward and kissed my shaft through the fabric. The heat of her breath seared through the cotton. "Yeji really wasn't lying."

She placed her fingers in the waistband, kissing lower, trailing her lips toward where my tip strained against the fabric. Then, with a theatrical flourish, she yanked my underwear down, freeing my rock-hard cock. It sprang up and slapped against my stomach, fully erect and leaking precum.

Yeji huffed lightly in quiet surprise beside me - she'd seen me hard countless times, but maybe not quite this hard, this quickly. Karina smiled at the reaction and reached over, pulling Yeji in for another kiss.

I watched, mesmerized, as they made out right next to my exposed cock. Yeji moaned into Karina's mouth, melting under her friend's lips and tongue. Yeji's perky, firm tits were completely pancaked by Karina's much, much bigger ones - the visual was insane, this clash of body types, both perfect in entirely different ways. Karina's curves overpowered Yeji's athletic frame as their tongues, lips, and sweet, tender skin connected.

I fought every urge to just start jacking off at the sight of two of Korea's most beautiful women passionately making out inches from my cock.

Karina broke the kiss and immediately placed her thick, plump lips back on my shaft. She sucked me into her mouth with enthusiasm, bobbing her head and using extra spit to make it really sloppy. Wet, obscene sounds filled the room as she worked me over with the kind of enthusiasm that suggested genuine hunger rather than performance.

Yeji giggled at the sight of Karina's messy fellating, reaching underneath her friend to cup those swinging, pendulous tits, weighing them in her hands. "Fuck, you're so much bigger than me," Yeji observed with a mixture of envy and admiration.

"Genetics," Karina mumbled around my cock, then pulled off with a wet pop. "You like that, babe?"

It took me a second to realize she was talking to me. "Fuck yes," I groaned.

"No, I meant Yeji." That wicked grin, stroking me. "Does it turn you on? Watching me suck your boyfriend's dick?"

"He's not my boyfriend," Yeji said automatically, but her voice was breathy, her pupils blown wide.

"Sure he's not," Karina teased, then looked up at me. "She called you 'babe' today, by the way. That's new."

"It just slipped out," Yeji protested weakly.

"Babe," Karina repeated mockingly, then swallowed my cock again, taking me deeper, her throat relaxing around me.

They continued to tease each other between kisses and touches - little comments about preferences, about past hookups, about sensitive spots and favorite positions. "You always liked it rougher," Karina murmured to Yeji while stroking my shaft. "Still sensitive there?" Yeji replied, pinching Karina's nipple and making her gasp.

Karina pulled off my cock again, her lips swollen and slick. "Come here," she commanded, spreading her legs wide and leaning back against the couch cushions. The silk robe pooled beneath her like a dark green halo. "Show me what you can do."

She opened herself completely, shameless and inviting.

I slid off the couch, positioning myself between her thick, soft thighs. The R&B still pulsed through hidden speakers - something slow and heavy, all bass and want - and I let it set the pace.

The view was incredible. Her pussy was perfect. Smooth, waxed completely bare, pink and glistening with arousal. The scent was different from what I was used to - richer, muskier, less floral than Yeji's, less fresh than Yuna's, more mature than Ryujin's earthy tang.

I suppose Karina expected me to dive in. To rush. To prove myself the way every guy before me had tried and failed. I could see it in the slight tension in her thighs, the way her jaw set - bracing for disappointment she'd learned to expect.

Instead, I let the song breathe.

I ran my hands slowly up her calves, feeling the smooth skin, the toned muscle beneath. Over her knees. Settling on her inner thighs, thumbs rubbing gentle circles that matched the lazy beat. I kissed the inside of her thigh - let my lips linger there, felt goosebumps rise in the wake of my breath - inhaling her scent, letting anticipation build.

"Oh," Karina breathed, surprised. Her thighs relaxed a fraction, tension she didn't know she was holding starting to melt.

I moved closer, letting my breath ghost over her pussy without touching it yet. Her hips shifted, seeking contact - that desperate, involuntary movement I recognized. I kissed her other thigh. Licked a long, slow stripe up her slit without applying real pressure.

"Minho..." she whimpered.

I felt Yeji shift beside us. She'd moved - settled behind Karina's head, letting Karina's shoulders rest against her lap. From there, Yeji could see everything: my mouth hovering over her friend's pussy, Karina's chest rising and falling, that perfect face starting to lose its composure.

"He's good at this," Yeji murmured, running her fingers through Karina's hair. Possessive. Grounding. "Just let him."

I finally - finally - sealed my lips over her clit and sucked gently, swirling my tongue around the sensitive bud. Her back arched off the couch, pressing her shoulders harder into Yeji's thighs, her hands flying to my hair.

The worship. The patience. The attention to her pleasure above my own. Yeji knew this. She’d taught me, in a way, what it meant to truly take your time with someone. I treated Karina's pussy like something worth savoring - not a goal to reach as quickly as possible.

I alternated between broad, flat strokes of my tongue and focused attention on her clit - reading her body, adjusting pressure, letting her responses guide me. I slipped two fingers inside her. She was tight, wet, clenching around me immediately, and I curled them with deliberate care, searching for that spot.

Karina's whole body shuddered. "Oh god." Her voice cracked. "That's... fuck, that's so different..."

Above her, Yeji was watching my technique with dark, knowing eyes. She knew exactly what I was doing - had felt it herself countless times. Her hands moved to Karina's breasts, cupping them, thumbs brushing over the nipples with the kind of knowing touch that came from understanding another woman's body.

"He found it, didn't he?" Yeji murmured against Karina's ear, claiming her reaction. "I can always tell when he hits the spot."

Karina could only whimper in response, her thighs beginning to tremble against my cheeks.

I kept going. Added a third finger. Curled them to press against that sensitive ridge inside her while my tongue circled her clit in a rhythm that matched the bass still thrumming through the room - slow, heavy, inevitable. I adjusted based on her breathing, her sounds, the way her legs tensed and relaxed.

"Don't stop," she begged, her voice losing its polished edge, becoming raw and desperate. The ice queen melting completely. "Please, please don't stop..."

Yeji's hand found my shoulder, squeezing - grounding me, connecting us even in this moment with someone else.

Karina's hips bucked erratically. Her inner walls started to flutter and clench around my fingers - that telltale ripple that meant she was close, actually close, maybe for the first time in longer than she wanted to admit. "I'm - oh fuck, I'm -"

Yeji leaned down and kissed her, swallowing the sound that came next.

Karina came with her mouth pressed against Yeji's, the scream muffled into something intimate and shared. Her whole body convulsed, thighs clamping around my head so hard I thought she might crack my skull, her back arching off the couch. I felt the orgasm in my fingers - her walls gripping rhythmically, pulling at me, wave after wave. Her skin was flushed, hot to the touch everywhere. She shook for what felt like forever, and I kept my mouth gentle on her clit, easing her through it rather than overstimulating.

When she finally went limp, Yeji pulled back from the kiss, brushing hair from Karina's damp forehead. There was something almost tender in the gesture - protective.

Karina's eyes were glassy, unfocused. Her chest heaved. A tear leaked from the corner of one eye, and she didn't bother wiping it away.

"Holy shit," she whispered. "I just... I haven't cum from being eaten out in... ever. Maybe ever."

"Really?" I asked, genuinely surprised.

"Everyone's always in such a rush." Her voice was shaky, cracked open. "They want to get to the main event. They grab at you like they're testing fruit at a market. You just..." She looked at me with something like wonder. "You took your time. You actually cared if I enjoyed it."

"Of course I cared," I said simply.

Karina laughed - a surprised, delighted sound, warm from her chest - and reached for me, pulling me up for a kiss. She could taste herself on my lips and didn't seem to care. Yeji watched us kiss, her hand still in Karina's hair, possessive even in this.

Karina broke the kiss first. She pulled back just far enough to look at me, and something in her face had softened - the usual haughty edge muted, her eyes wider, less guarded. Post-orgasm and glowing, cheeks flushed, hair wrecked, the goddess caught off-balance by her own body.

She pressed a hand flat against my chest and pushed me backward, gentle but insistent, until I was half-sitting against the arm of the couch, legs stretched out. Her eyes dropped to my cock, hard and slick with her wetness from going down on her, standing stiff against my stomach.

Her gaze dropped to my cock, lingered there. Her lips parted. Then she looked back at me and something resolute settled into her expression.

"Let me try something." Her voice came out husky, cracked from the orgasm. "Stay still."

She wrapped her hand around my shaft, testing the weight of it, her thumb dragging through the slickness. The same way she'd studied Yeji's reactions earlier, she watched my face now as her grip tightened, loosened, found a pressure that made my breath catch.

Then she gathered those massive tits in both hands and looked up at me.

"Guys always ask for this." Her voice dropped, went quiet in a way that tightened my chest. "Like it's something they're owed. A trophy thing. They see the tits and it's all they can think about." She swallowed. "I've never actually wanted to."

She didn't finish explaining, didn’t need to. She leaned forward, positioned me between her breasts, and pressed them together around my cock.

They were impossibly soft. Pillowy warmth enveloped me completely, my shaft disappearing between pale, flawless skin. The sheer volume of her staggered me - full, heavy D-cups swallowing me whole, the slight friction of skin on skin as she moved, tentative at first, figuring out the pressure, the angle. Her small pale-pink nipples were tight beads brushing against my lower stomach with each stroke.

She started slow. Uncertain. This wasn't something she did casually, and it showed in the way she adjusted, recalibrated - squeezed tighter, then eased off, searching for the rhythm that matched my breathing. Pre-cum and the residual slickness from her from her lips created a wet channel between her breasts, each stroke getting smoother, warmer, the friction building into something thick and devastating.

I let out a groan I didn't plan.

Karina's eyes snapped to my face. She watched me the way she'd watched Yeji earlier - hunting for the smallest shifts in my jaw, my breathing, the way my hands gripped the couch cushion. She found an angle that made me hiss and locked it in, repeating the motion with deliberate precision.

Then she spit between her tits.

Without warning. She just gathered saliva and let it fall into the channel she'd made, the added slickness turning the friction obscene. Wet sounds filled the room, mixing with the bass still throbbing from the speakers. Messy and deliberate in a way that made my cock throb - raw and unpolished, a woman doing exactly what she wanted.

"Fuck," I breathed.

The head of my cock started peeking out from between her breasts on each upstroke - flushed and swollen, pushing through the soft vice of her cleavage. She dipped her head and caught it with her tongue, tentative at first, a flick across the tip tasting pre-cum. Then again with more confidence, swirling around the head each time it emerged, her lips closing over it with increasing hunger.

The dual sensation nearly killed me. Soft, heavy pressure squeezing my shaft from both sides while her wet mouth worked the head - alternating, overlapping, two completely different textures fighting for dominance. Her tongue lapped at the slit, her breasts compressed around the base, and I felt myself pulse hard enough that she must have felt it between her tits.

My hand found her hair, fingers threading through dark strands. With Yeji I'd grab her ponytail like a handle, yank her head back - with Karina my touch stayed gentle, reverent. My thumb traced her cheekbone as she took me deeper on the next pass, her lips stretched around me, breasts still working the lower half.

"You don't have to -" I started.

She cut me off by sinking down another inch and looking up at me with her mouth full, those dark eyes finding mine with an openness I hadn't seen before - softer, searching, asking something she'd never put into words.

I cupped her jaw. Let my thumb brush the corner of her lips where they stretched around me.

"Perfect," I breathed.

Karina made a sound - a low, satisfied hum that vibrated through my cock and straight up my spine. The flush spread down her chest, her thighs pressed together, new wetness forming between them. She was getting off on this.

From beside us, Yeji exhaled through her nose - small and controlled, the sound she made when she was waiting for something to finish.

I glanced over. She watched us with dark, evaluative eyes, studying Karina's technique the way she studied choreo. One hand had drifted to her own thigh, fingers pressing into the skin. Her hips shifted, once.

Her gaze caught on my hand in Karina's hair and her jaw tightened for a single beat. Then she relaxed, the tension draining from her shoulders.

Yeji leaned in closer, watching from a better angle - my cock disappearing into that soft, wet channel of Karina's cleavage, Karina's mouth catching the head on each pass. Then her hand slid to Karina's back, settling between her shoulder blades, steadying her rhythm.

"Tighter," Yeji said. She reached around and cupped one of Karina's breasts herself, pressing it more firmly against my cock, adjusting the pressure with her own hand. "Like this."

Karina's eyes widened at the contact - Yeji's smaller hand against her much larger breast, warm fingers molding the flesh tighter around me. But she didn't pull away. She adjusted, following Yeji's lead, and the increased compression made me groan out loud.

The combined sensation was overwhelming. Karina's breasts squeezing me while her mouth worked the head, Yeji's hand adjusting pressure in real time - three-body collaboration that had my breathing splintering into something unrecognizable. My hips started moving on their own, thrusting up into the channel they'd created, the wet sounds getting louder, sloppier, each stroke ending with Karina's tongue catching the tip before her breasts swallowed me again.

Karina moaned around my cock - a genuine, throaty sound that buzzed through the head and made my vision blur. She was dripping between her thighs, arousal renewed from the act of giving, from my reactions, from Yeji's hands on her body. I could see the slickness on her inner thighs catching the dim light.

My hand tightened in her hair. Still not rough. But losing control, fingers curling reflexively against her scalp, hips bucking harder.

"I'm -" The word came out wrecked, barely formed. "I'm close, I'm -"

Yeji moved fast.

Her hand wrapped around the base of my cock in a firm grip that stilled everything - pulled me back from between Karina's breasts in one decisive motion. The sudden absence of all that warmth and softness hit like cold water. Karina blinked, mouth wet and swollen, a thin thread of saliva connecting her lower lip to the head of my cock before it broke.

"Not yet." Steel wrapped in silk. The leader voice.

Yeji didn't let go. Her grip stayed firm, controlled, a tactical decision made and executed before anyone could argue.

Karina looked at Yeji. Yeji looked back. Karina's eyes widened, then softened with understanding. Her lips curved into a small, knowing smile - recognition of something she'd probably seen coming from the moment she'd first put her mouth on me.

She sat back, wiping her lips with the back of her hand, and yielded the space with the kind of grace that made me understand why people called her a goddess; because she knew when to step back and let someone else burn.

Yeji's grip on my cock shifted - became a guide, a leash. Before I could catch my breath she was already moving, releasing me only long enough to swing herself onto her knees on the couch, sundress bunched up around her waist, panties yanked to the side by her own hand. She looked back at me over her shoulder, eyes dark with something that wasn't quite jealousy but wasn't quite not jealousy either.

She arched her back, presenting that perfect, toned ass. That familiar, beloved pussy already swollen and dripping. Demanding without words.

I lined myself up and thrust inside her in one smooth, hard stroke. No teasing this time. All the way in.

"Ah!" Yeji screamed, her head thrown back, every muscle in her back going taut. "Minho!"

This was different. Rawer. More primal. With Karina I'd been worship and patience; with Yeji I was possession and claiming. This was reminding both of us - all three of us - that despite sharing this moment, despite inviting someone else in, we belonged to each other in a way that transcended definition.

It was the fourth time inside her today, and somehow it felt just as electric as the first. The wet heat. The perfect grip. The way she pushed back against me, meeting every thrust like she couldn't get enough.

We'd fucked so many times we knew each other's bodies instinctively. I knew exactly how deep to go, exactly what angle hit the spot that made her whole body lock up - her asshole clenching tight, that little ring of muscle pulsing visible around nothing, her pussy gripping my shaft so hard I felt every ripple. I knew exactly how much pain to mix with the pleasure.

My hands found her hips - those sharp hip bones jutting out beneath smooth skin, narrow waist flaring into that powerful shelf of an ass. I gripped hard, thumbs pressing into the dimples at the base of her spine, fingers digging into firm muscle and bone. Her body was all angles and definition under my palms - a compact powerhouse, every line of her athletic frame testament to years of discipline. I used the grip to pull her back onto me, controlling the rhythm, feeling her abs flex and release beneath my touch with each thrust.

"Harder," Yeji demanded, her voice rough, stripped of everything but raw need. "Pull my hair. Make me yours."

Complying, I grabbed her ponytail - her one vanity, the sleek high ponytail she wore like a crown - and wrapped it around my fist. Pulled hard. Her back arched deeper, head tilting back, throat exposed, her toes curling against the couch cushions as the pressure changed the angle inside her.

"Yes!" she cried. "Just like that, fuck, just like that!"

This was raw, vicious, and beautiful - the kind of fucking that came from knowing how to wreck each other, where to push and when to pull, which angles made her whole body surrender and which pressure points turned her into something feral and unguarded.

Beside us, Karina had propped herself up against the arm of the couch, still catching her breath. Her hand had drifted back between her legs - sensual, savoring, matching the rhythm I was setting with Yeji.

"God," she breathed, watching my cock disappear into Yeji over and over. "You two..."

The sentence hung unfinished.

I caught the look on her face - hunger, yes, but something else flickering behind it. Then Yeji clenched around me and the thought evaporated.

"MINHO!" Yeji screamed my name, raw and desperate, like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.

"Harder," she begged, and I obliged, slamming into her with enough force to make the couch creak. "Yes, yes, yes - I'm gonna -"

She came screaming - loud enough to affirm every rumor, every comment Chaeryeong had made about her volume. Her whole body seized up, clenching around me so hard it almost hurt, her voice raw and unrestrained.

I held her through it, slowing my thrusts but not stopping, letting her ride out every wave.

When she finally went limp, collapsing forward onto the cushions, I gently pulled out. I was still rock hard - nowhere near close despite having cum multiple times today. My stamina had limits, and apparently I'd found them.

A soft voice cut through my panting. "Don't forget about me."

I looked over. Karina was sitting up now, her hand still between her legs. She slowly removed her fingers from her pussy, watching me. They were coated in clear, slick fluid - so wet it was dripping down her wrist. She brought them to her lips and sucked them clean, maintaining eye contact the whole time.

"Look what you two did to me," she gasped, spreading her legs wider. Her pussy was visibly swollen, flushed pink, slick with arousal. The R&B was still playing, bass humming through the room like a second heartbeat.

She spread her legs wider and leaned back against the arm of the couch, that hint of a smile playing at her lips again. "So." The word hung in the air, unhurried, certain. "You going to keep me waiting?"

Hunger burned in her eyes, but transformed from desperate frustration into something confident and certain. She'd seen what I could do with my mouth, felt it work magic on her earlier, watched me make Yeji come undone - and now she wanted more.

"Come here," she said, voice dropping lower, smoother. "Give it to me."

Intro | Masterlist | Series Index Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

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Author's Note

Did you like the food porn? I spent way too long researching what an obscenely expensive private dinner would look like, and now I'm hungry and poor just from writing it. The truffle shavings were a choice.

The key thing about that dinner though: Karina didn't order it for herself.

This chapter introduces the real Karina - and she's nothing like the woman we saw in Chapter 7, stumbling back from the Yonsei villa at 1 AM, cum-soaked and humiliated, asking Ryujin what was wrong with her. That was Karina at her lowest: the goddess who discovered her pedestal was a prison, surrounded by men who wanted to fuck Karina but couldn't see Jimin.

This Karina is different. This is the woman beneath the AI-perfect facade - goofy, warm, kind to her bones. The one who can't wink to save her life. The one who teases her friends relentlessly because affection is easier to show through humor than vulnerability.

And this is what I need you to understand about that dinner:

Karina orchestrated Yeji and Minho's entire beach date. She suggested the hand-holding. She pushed Yeji to test her feelings. And then she pulled out all the stops - the steaks, the fresh pasta, the truffle, the wine that costs more than rent - to give a couple who can't admit what they are the perfect date-night finish.

She did this while still carrying the weight of Chapter 7. Still lonely, still frustrated, and still measuring every man against an ex she can't forget. She could have wallowed or canceled Pilates and stayed in bed. Instead, she showed up for her friend.

That's Karina's real beauty to me. Not the curves or the face that launched a thousand AI comparisons - though yes, those are there too. It's the selfless generosity she hides behind ice because the world taught her vulnerability was dangerous. She gives and gives in a world full of takers, and she does it without expecting anything in return.

Her arc in this story is basically Shrek - stay with me here!

Shrek is trapped by how the world sees him - a monster, scary, unapproachable. He builds walls (literally, in a swamp) because every interaction has taught him he'll be rejected for what he is rather than who he is. But underneath all that armor is someone desperate for connection, for someone to see past the surface.

Karina is the inverse of that. She's trapped by beauty instead of ugliness, but the prison is the same. Everyone wants to worship her or tear her down, but no one wants to know her. So she builds her own walls - the ice queen persona, the haughty deflection, the careful distance - because being seen as a goddess is safer than being seen as human and found wanting.

What she needs isn't someone who can "handle" her physically (though that helps). She needs someone who treats her like a person first, who sees the goofy, clumsy, warm girl beneath the flawless exterior and doesn't flinch.

The threesome isn't her reward for being hot. It's her reward for being kind - for loving Yeji enough to put her friend's happiness above her own loneliness. She earned this moment not through seduction but through selflessness, the same way she earns everything that matters: by giving more than she takes.

(play the embedded music for extra ambience!)

Her breath caught. I felt her almost pull back, that old instinct surfacing, the one that kept her safer in positions where she controlled what I saw. But she didn't. She settled deeper instead, letting her full weight rest against me.

Her pussy pressed against my spent length, warm and slick and unmistakably hers.

The stirring began. Something deeper than arousal, something my body recognized before my mind caught up. Not from visual stimulus or physical friction but from connection itself, from coming home to a room we'd never been in before but somehow already knew.

The room had gone quiet. The frantic energy of the threesome had dissolved into something softer, gentler. Candles guttered low on the dresser, their flames dancing smaller now, casting warm honey light across the walls in shifting patterns. The sheets beneath us were ruined with sweat and cum and the evidence of everything that had happened, but none of that mattered here.

Just her. Just us. Just this moment stretching out like pulled taffy, sweet and golden.

Yeji's forehead touched mine. Her breath mingled with mine, carbon dioxide and oxygen trading places between our lungs. Slow. Steady. Our respiratory systems synchronizing without conscious effort, finding the same rhythm the way our bodies always did.

Her eyes held mine with an intensity that made my chest ache. So close the flecks of amber in the brown became countable, each one a point in a constellation I wanted to trace with my thumb.

"There you are," she whispered.

Three words carrying the weight of five years. Relief bleeding through every syllable. Recognition. The exhale after holding your breath underwater too long, breaking the surface and filling your lungs with air that tasted like survival.

My throat tightened. Five years of careful avoidance crumbled somewhere behind my chest, warmth spreading where walls used to be, filling spaces I'd kept deliberately empty.

"I'm here," I said.

The words came out rough. Honest. Stripped of everything I usually used to protect myself from moments like this.

I felt myself hardening against her, the blood flow returning despite biological impossibility. Slowly. Inevitably. My body responding to her presence the way it always did, beyond exhaustion, beyond logic, beyond the limits of what medical science said should be possible after a day like today.

Yeji felt it too. Her breath caught again, sharper this time. Her hips shifted slightly, adjusting, making space for what was happening between us.

"How," she breathed, half-laughing, half-awed, her voice carrying genuine surprise. "How are you -"

"I don't know," I admitted. The truth. "You. It's always you."

Her smile softened into something vulnerable, something real beneath the performer's mask she wore for everyone else. Something she only showed me in moments like this, when the armor came off and the woman underneath could breathe.

She reached between us without ceremony. Her fingers wrapped around my half-hard cock with the casual ownership of someone who'd held it a thousand times, who knew exactly how it responded to touch, who'd mapped every sensitive spot and cataloged every reaction. Her thumb swept across the sensitive underside and I twitched in her grip, blood rushing faster now, growing harder against her palm.

"There he is," she murmured. That smile playing at her lips, the one that meant she knew exactly what she was doing and was enjoying every second of watching me respond. She positioned me at her entrance and let me feel the heat radiating from her core, the slick promise of what was coming, the wetness already coating my tip.

Then she waited.

Just the tip pressed against her opening, her arousal coating me, her body ready but refusing to sink down yet. The anticipation hummed between us like a plucked string still vibrating. She knew exactly what she was doing, knew how the waiting made everything sharper, made the eventual connection that much more devastating.

"Yeji," I breathed. My voice came out rougher than I expected, strained with want I wasn't trying to hide.

Her smile widened. "I know."

She sank down.

Inch by inch, taking her time. I watched her pussy stretch around me, watched the tight ring of her entrance yield and swallow me deeper, pink flesh parting around my girth like water displaced by stone. The visual was obscene and beautiful and mine, something I'd seen a thousand times and would never stop wanting to see. She was so wet that I heard it, this soft slick sound as her body opened to take what belonged there.

Her breath hitched when she hit the halfway point where I was thickest. Her walls squeezed instinctively, adjusting to the intrusion, and she tilted her pelvis to let me slide the rest of the way home. The angle shifted and suddenly I was deeper, fuller, completely enveloped.

"Oh, fuck," she whispered when our hips finally met, when she'd taken every inch and couldn't take more. "There you are."

I watched her face as she settled. The flutter of her lashes against her cheeks. The way her lips parted just slightly. Her pussy clenched once, twice, three times, adjusting to the familiar invasion, remembering my shape the way bodies remember things minds forget.

We'd done this a thousand times. But never like this. Never with nowhere to hide and no desire to try.

Her walls gripped me with the confidence of muscle memory, of a body that knew exactly how to hold me and for how long. How much pressure to apply. How to angle her hips so the head of my cock pressed against that spot inside her that made her breath catch and her thighs tremble.

We both inhaled sharply at the connection. The pleasure was there, undeniable, but what stole our breath was the recognition vibrating between us like a tuning fork. This is us. This is ours. This is what five years looks like written in flesh and heat and the particular way our bodies fit together.

Yeji began to move.

Slow at first. Deliberate. Her hips rolled in a rhythm we'd developed over five years, a language built from a thousand nights and a thousand positions and a thousand moments of learning exactly how the other moved and breathed and came apart.

Forward and back. A grinding figure-eight that kept me buried deep while her clit dragged against my pelvis with each rotation. Her pussy rippled around my shaft with every movement, warm and wet and holding me inside her like she was afraid I might leave if she loosened her grip.

"Oh Minho, I missed this," she breathed against my mouth, the words warm and damp.

My hands found her waist automatically. Guiding without thinking. Responding to micro-shifts in her weight before she'd consciously made them, before she'd even decided where she wanted to go next. When she rose slightly, I helped lift her. When she sank back down, my hips tilted to meet her descent. Conversation without language, question and answer happening in muscle and bone.

Then she changed the tempo.

She rose higher on the next roll, letting my cock slide almost all the way out until just the head remained inside, stretching her entrance. Cool air kissed my wet shaft and I saw the shine of her arousal coating me, catching the candlelight. She hovered there, pussy clenching around just the tip, forcing me to wait and feel every second of that absence.

"Yeji," I groaned.

"What?" Innocent. Devastating. Her eyes dancing with mischief I recognized from five years of this exact game. "You want something?"

"You know exactly what I want."

Her smile was pure sin. She sank back down in one slow, devastating descent, taking me to the root in a single motion. Her ass settled against my thighs and my cock bottomed out inside her, the tip kissing her cervix, her walls fluttering around the sudden fullness like butterfly wings.

"Better?" she whispered.

"Fuck. Yes."

She did it again. Rose until I almost slipped free, hovered there with a wicked gleam in her eye that promised she could keep this up all night if she wanted to, then dropped. The wet slap of our bodies meeting echoed through the quiet room, obscene and perfect and exactly what we both needed. Again. And again. Building a rhythm that curled my toes against the couch cushions.

Her thighs tightened around my waist, muscles flexing with each movement. Her arms wrapped around my neck, one hand cradling the back of my head, fingers tangling in my hair with that possessive gentleness that was pure Yeji. She held me like I might disappear if she let go, like physical proximity was the only thing keeping me real and solid and hers.

I held her back the same way.

"This is us," Yeji murmured against my mouth, her lips brushing mine with every word.

Her voice carried none of the control she'd maintained all night. No sharpness. No performance for an audience that wasn't there anymore. Nothing left but truth and need and the raw reality of what we were to each other when no one else was watching.

I kissed her. Soft at first, testing the waters. Then deeper, consuming, pouring five years of accumulated need into the press of lips and slide of tongue. Far deeper than anything during the threesome, deeper than the claiming kiss she'd given Karina, deeper than the possessive displays that had anchored the scene and kept it from spinning out of control.

This was different. This was real in a way that made everything else feel like rehearsal.

My hands slid from her waist to cup her face, thumbs stroking her cheekbones, cradling her skull like something precious that might shatter if I held wrong. Like something sacred that demanded reverence.

Her fingers threaded through my hair, nails scraping my scalp gently, anchoring rather than claiming. Holding me close enough that our chests pressed together with every breath, close enough that I felt her heartbeat fluttering against me.

Her pulse was rapid at first, racing, then gradually slowing to match mine. Two separate rhythms becoming one, cardiac synchronization happening without conscious thought.

The soundscape shifted. Became quiet. Became intimate in ways I'd forgotten sound could be intimate.

Breathy whispers instead of performative moans. Soft gasps of recognition rather than display. The rustle of skin against skin. The wet sound of our bodies joining and parting and joining again, that slick slide that was somehow more erotic than any soundtrack could capture.

Her name falling from my lips the way prayer falls from a mouth that's forgotten every other word.

"Yeji."

Yeji.

"Right here," she whispered back, answering the question I hadn't asked. "I'm right here."

Our foreheads touched, noses brushing with each small movement. Our eyes locked and that felt more intimate than being inside her, more vulnerable than being naked, more honest than any words we'd said to each other in five years.

Every fleck of amber in her irises was visible in the candlelight. Every tiny shift of emotion playing across her face - fear dissolving, walls thinning brick by brick.

I wanted to say it. The words were right there, three syllables that would change everything.

But they caught in my throat. Tangled with guilt about what I'd done in the pool, in the shower, with Yuna and Ryujin while she'd been trusting me. With fear that saying it out loud would somehow break whatever spell was keeping this moment suspended in amber. With the weight of everything she didn't know about yet that might make her take those words back when she learned the truth.

So instead I kissed her again, pouring everything I couldn't say into that kiss. Apology for betrayals she didn't know about. Devotion that felt bigger than my body could contain. Need that went beyond physical want into something that ached in my bones. Worship of the woman who'd seen me at my worst and stayed anyway. The desperate hope that I could become the person she deserved instead of the person I'd been this morning.

She kissed me back like she understood - reading the subtext in every press of lips and sweep of tongue, forgiving me for things she didn't even know about yet. Offering mercy I hadn't earned and might not deserve.

That made it worse.

That made it better.

That made me want to be worthy of the grace she was offering without knowing she was offering it.

The pleasure built slowly, something different than the explosive, overwhelming intensity of what I'd given Karina an hour ago. Something different than the frantic chase toward release that defined most sex, deeper and quieter, more devastating in its gentleness.

Like warmth spreading through cold limbs after coming in from winter. Like the first breath after being underwater too long, that sweet rush of oxygen filling lungs that had forgotten what air tasted like.

My cock throbbed inside her with each heartbeat, pulsing in rhythm with the blood pumping through my veins. Her pussy clenched around me with answering rhythm, her own pulse visible in the grip of her walls. We moved together in perfect sync, simply being two parts of an unnamed whole.

Two bodies that had learned each other so completely they'd become a single system with two hearts and four lungs and one purpose.

Her hips rolled and my hips answered. Her breath caught, and mine echoed.

Her fingers tightened in my hair, so I pulled her closer, eliminating even the whisper of space between our bodies.

Yeji leaned back slightly and the effect was immediate and devastating. Now when she rolled forward, the underside of my cock dragged against her front wall, her wetness sliding along my shaft with every movement.

Her thighs trembled on either side of my waist. Her rhythm stuttered and faltered for just a moment. Her whole body shuddered with the change, every muscle going taut and then releasing in waves.

"Oh, fuck," she gasped, the words breaking into pieces. "Right there. Don't move."

I shifted my grip to her hips. Held her at that exact tilt while she ground down against me, small desperate circles that kept my cock pressed exactly where she needed it. Her pussy clenched tight around me, then released, then clenched again in rapid flutters I could feel rippling along my entire length.

Her walls squeezed and released in involuntary rhythm, her body chasing something it knew how to find even when her mind couldn't guide it there.

Her thighs trembled harder now, shaking with effort and approaching climax. Her grinding became urgent, less controlled, her body overriding conscious thought in pursuit of what it needed. I stayed deep and let her use me, let her work herself toward the edge while I watched her face transform from controlled to desperate to something beyond language.

The candles had burned lower, their flames smaller now but somehow warmer for it. Honey light flickered across her skin, across mine, across the place where we joined and became one continuous surface. My cock disappeared into her with each downward roll, the shine of her arousal coating my shaft, the way her pussy stretched around me, pink and swollen and perfect in its imperfection.

The shadows danced on the walls like they were celebrating something, like they knew what was happening here mattered in ways we couldn't articulate yet.

"Minho," she breathed. My name cracked on the second syllable, breaking like glass. "I'm close."

"I know. I can feel it." And I could. Five years of learning her body meant reading signals she didn't know she was sending. The way her walls started that telltale rhythmic squeeze, the change in her breathing, the micro-tremors in her thighs.

Her walls had started that rhythm now, the involuntary contractions that meant she was approaching the edge. Her clit dragged against my pelvis with every grind and I tilted my hips just slightly to give her more pressure there, that extra bit of friction that would push her over.

"Look at me," I said.

Her eyes found mine, full of everything she couldn't say out loud, emotions too big for the container of her body, spilling over in the wetness gathering at the corners of her eyes.

"I want to watch you."

She came apart in my arms, a wave that rolled through her whole body in slow motion. Her pussy clamped down around my cock so tight I saw stars, pressure bordering on pain, then released, then clamped again in rhythmic pulses that seemed to go on forever. Her mouth fell open on a silent cry, sound catching in her throat. Her thighs shook so hard I thought she might fall. Her fingers dug into my shoulders hard enough to leave marks I'd find tomorrow and treasure.

I watched every second of it.

Watched the tension build in her jaw and neck. Watched it crest and break across her face like a wave hitting shore. Watched her eyes lose focus and then find mine again, anchoring herself in my gaze while her body shattered and reassembled. Watched her lips form my name without any sound coming out, just the shape of the syllables.

"Beautiful," I breathed, meaning it more than I'd meant anything. "Yeji, you're so beautiful when you give me everything."

She collapsed against my chest, still shaking through the aftershocks, her pussy still fluttering around me in soft random squeezes that sent sparks up my spine. I held her through it, stroking her hair, pressing kisses to her temple where her pulse jumped under thin skin.

"Yours," she whispered into my neck, breath hot and damp against my throat. "Only yours."

The words hit me like a punch to the chest. Sharp and sudden and leaving me breathless. The guilt surged up again, bitter and corrosive, memories of this morning threatening to drown me. But I pushed it down. Shoved it into a box I'd deal with later. Right now there was only her, trembling in my arms, her body still wrapped around mine, trusting me with her vulnerability in a way that made my throat tight.

I felt myself getting close again. Impossible after twelve orgasms in a single day. My balls should have been empty and my body should have been done. But Yeji always did this to me. Rendered my body responsive when it shouldn't have been, overrode biology through sheer force of connection, pulled from me reserves I didn't know existed. Made me want to give and give and give until there was nothing left and then somehow find more to give anyway.

She started moving again. Slower now, languid in the aftermath of her orgasm, rolling her hips in lazy circles. But each movement sent sparks up my spine, pleasure building despite exhaustion. Her pussy was still hypersensitive, still twitching around me with little aftershock tremors, and the added wetness from her orgasm slickened everything and made the heat almost unbearable.

"Your turn," she murmured against my lips, voice still shaky. "I want to feel you."

"Yeji."

Just her name. But she knew what I meant. Five years of learning each other's bodies meant no secrets and no surprises. She knew, deep and absolute.

"I'm -"

"I know. I can feel you throbbing inside me." She rolled her hips in a slow circle, squeezing me deliberately, using muscles she'd spent years perfecting. "Give me all of it."

Her eyes were soft and understanding, full of everything we'd never said out loud, emotions too large to fit in our mouths. The amber flecks seemed to glow in the candlelight, like they had their own internal source of illumination.

"Inside me," she whispered, and her hand cupped my cheek, thumb stroking my jaw with that gentleness only she carried - soft enough to hold and firm enough to claim. "Come back to me, Minho."

It was such a small gesture, such a gentle touch. Her thumb traced the line of my jaw, her palm warm against my cheek, her eyes holding mine with absolute certainty.

It undid me completely.

[YEJI'S POV - THIRD PERSON]

Relief. That was what Yeji felt most, relief so profound it ached in her chest like something physical, like hands squeezing her lungs and then suddenly letting go.

He was back. After everything tonight had demanded of them, after watching him make Karina scream in ways that made her question everything, after seeing his cock disappear into another woman's body and having to smile through the jealousy that threatened to choke her, after the threesome that had tested every boundary she thought she had, he was back.

Here. In her arms. Inside her body. Looking at her like she was the only girl in the world, like the past hour had been an intermission and now the real performance was beginning.

The fear that had been coiled in her stomach all night finally loosened its grip, unspooling like thread.

She'd been so afraid. Of the threesome itself, yes, that had been her idea, her gift to Karina, her proof that she was secure enough to share what was hers. But mostly of what came after. Of whether he'd look at her differently when it was over. Of whether Karina's perfect body and goddess face would make him realize what he was settling for, what imperfections he'd been accepting out of convenience or habit or lack of better options.

But his eyes spoke truth that words would have fumbled. He wasn't settling. He was choosing. Again and again with every touch and breath and the particular way he held her face.

She felt it in the way his hands cradled her skull. Precious and fragile and sacred all at once, his palms holding her like breaking her would break him too - like her pain would become his pain and he couldn't bear that thought.

She felt it in the way he moved inside her. Present. Connected. Every thrust and roll and adjustment speaking a language they'd spent five years developing, a vocabulary only they understood.

Home. That's what this was. That's what they were when no one else was watching.

She'd been so afraid to name it. So afraid that putting words to whatever this was would somehow break the spell, would make it fragile instead of strong. That calling it love would curse it, would turn something organic into something that needed maintenance and care and constant tending.

But watching his face now, watching the vulnerability in his eyes, the tenderness that he never showed anyone else, the way he looked at her like she'd hung the moon and painted the stars and created the universe just for him, she understood something she'd been avoiding for months. Maybe years.

It was already love. It had been love for a long time. Maybe it had always been love, from the very first night in Practice Room B when he'd found her sobbing in the corner at 2:47 AM, mascara running, dreams crumbling, certain she was going to fail.

She remembered it with perfect, crystalline clarity even now, five years later, every detail preserved in amber. The way the lights had buzzed overhead, that electric hum that filled every silence. The way her mascara had streaked down her cheeks in black rivers, the expensive waterproof kind that was supposed to withstand anything but couldn't withstand her conviction that she wasn't good enough. The way she'd been so certain she was going to fail, that the D on her vocal evaluation was proof she didn't belong here, that she'd wasted years of her life chasing something she'd never catch no matter how fast she ran.

And then he'd been there.

Without empty platitudes or false comfort. Without toxic positivity or meaningless reassurance. Just present, sitting beside her on that cold practice room floor. Close enough to feel his warmth but without crowding her, without demanding she perform okay-ness she didn't feel. Waiting until she was ready to speak, giving her the gift of silence when silence was what she needed.

"What do I need, Minho?" she'd snapped, anger flaring through tears because anger was easier than hope. "Because apparently what I have isn't good enough."

"Confidence," he'd said softly. "And control. But those things come with practice. With patience." A pause, his thumb wiping a tear from her cheek. "You're not going to fail, Yeji. I won't let you."

And then the part she carried that he'd probably forgotten saying - his hand finding hers on the cold floor, fingers threading through hers like they belonged there. His voice dropping lower, almost to himself: "I've watched you. The way you work. The way you refuse to give up. The way you get back up every single time they knock you down." His thumb stroking her knuckles. "You're going to debut. And you're going to be incredible."

She'd searched his face for pity, for dishonesty, for any reason to dismiss what he was offering. Found none. And something shifted in her chest, vulnerability joined by need and desperation and raw want, and she'd kissed him before she could talk herself out of it.

Clumsy and salty with tears and tender all at once. Two teenagers on a cold practice room floor, fumbling through something neither of them fully understood but both of them needed. His first time, she'd learn later - and she'd barely known what she was doing either, both of them trembling, nervous, driven by emotion more than experience. The way she'd pulled him closer when he tried to pull out, whispering stay, stay, and the shock on both their faces when he came inside her for the first time, that moment of profound connection neither of them had been prepared for.

That was the first time.

The second was the night he told her he was quitting.

She remembered standing in that same practice room, their practice room, the place where they'd built something neither of them could name. Watching him pack up his things felt like watching someone dismantle her future piece by piece. His trainee bag. His vocal sheets. The hoodie he'd lent her once and never asked for back because somewhere along the way it had become more hers than his.

"I can't do this anymore," he'd said, refusing to meet her eyes. His voice flat, empty of the hope she'd worked so hard to keep alive in him. "The evaluations, Yeji. The constant feeling that I'm not enough."

"You ARE enough," she'd insisted, and her voice had cracked on the word. "Stay. We'll debut together. We'll -"

"You'll debut," he'd cut her off gently, but firmly. Like he'd already made peace with this future she was desperately trying to rewrite. "You're going to make it, Yeji. I'm just - I'm not supposed to be here. This isn't my path."

She hadn't cried in front of him. She'd learned by then how to lock everything down, how to become the steel-spined leader everyone expected her to be, how to compartmentalize emotion until she could deal with it alone.

But after he left, after the door closed and his footsteps faded down the hallway and she was alone in that practice room that suddenly felt too big, she'd crumpled against the mirror wall and wept like something inside her had died.

Because it had.

The future she'd imagined, the one where they both made it, where they'd walk the same red carpets and attend the same award shows and celebrate each other's wins like they meant something, that future had walked out the door with him. And she was left holding the shattered pieces, trying to figure out how to want her dream without him in it.

She'd debuted eight months later with ITZY, as the leader of five members, with her face on billboards across Seoul. Everything she'd bled for was finally real and solid and hers.

And on debut day, standing backstage at M Countdown, heart pounding so hard it hurt, waiting for the stage that would change her life forever, she'd scanned the crowd for his face with desperate hope she pretended wasn't there.

He wasn't there.

She told herself it didn't matter. She had her members now and the career she'd sacrificed everything for. She had everything she'd ever wanted laid out before her like a feast.

Except him.

The third moment was Busan, six months ago.

The yacht party in the harbor, salt air and expensive champagne and beautiful people pretending to be having fun. The night she'd finally let her worlds collide after years of keeping them separate, of protecting him from the industry had chewed him up and spit him out.

She'd invited him on impulse. Or what she'd told herself was impulse, what she'd framed as casual and meaningless when really it was the most deliberate decision she'd made in years. "Come with me, as my date." Like it didn't mean anything. Like it wasn't a declaration.

But it meant everything.

Standing on that deck, watching Yuna's eyes trace his arms with interest she didn't bother hiding, watching Ryujin assess him like prey she was considering hunting, watching her members see the person she'd kept hidden for five years, she'd understood something she couldn't take back once she'd acknowledged it.

He was hers. Completely. Irrevocably. More than a backup or a comfort or a body to warm her bed when loneliness got too heavy.

Mine.

The jealousy had been volcanic. Possessive in a way she'd never felt before, primal and consuming. She'd dragged him away from the party, fucked him in a hotel room until neither of them could walk, and then lain awake all night feeling the gears of her carefully compartmentalized life grinding against each other, threatening to tear her apart.

She'd been terrified. Of herself, of what she felt, of the way her body had simply decided without consulting her that it didn't want anyone else anymore. That every other option tasted like ash. That only he could satisfy the hunger that lived in her bones.

And now, five years after Practice Room B, she was here. In his arms with his cock still hard inside her, still filling her up, still completing her in a way nothing else ever had. With their combined fluids leaking down her thighs and his heartbeat under her ear and her word, yours, still echoing in the space between them where words became breath became shared air.

I've been lookin' for somebody like you.

The lyric floated through her mind unbidden, Chaeryeong's voice singing it in that way she had, earnest and sincere and unashamed of the cheese factor. Her solo, 'Mine'. That romantic jazz song about certainty that Yeji had teased her about writing, had rolled her eyes at the sentimentality of, had pretended not to understand.

I circle around you again and again.

Five years of circling. Of coming back. Of finding each other in crowded rooms and empty beds and everything in between. Of pretending this was casual when it had stopped being casual the first time he made her laugh through tears.

Forever mine, already mine.

That's what this was. That's what it had always been. She just hadn't let herself see it, hadn't let herself claim it out loud, hadn't let herself believe she deserved to keep something this good.

She rolled her hips experimentally, felt him twitch inside her in immediate response, felt her own oversensitive walls clench around him reflexively. Connected. Together. Exactly where she wanted to be, where she'd always wanted to be if she'd been brave enough to admit it.

She moved in his lap with deliberate slowness, savoring every sensation like she was cataloging them for later. The thick slide of him against her inner walls. The press of his chest against hers, skin to skin, heart to heart. The way his hands tightened on her hips when she found that perfect angle that made him gasp.

"God, you feel so good," she breathed against his mouth, the words tumbling out without conscious thought. "You always feel so good."

His thumb traced her hipbone, that absent gesture he did when he was present in his body, when he was feeling instead of thinking. "So do you."

The warmth spreading through her body felt like honey, like coming home after a long journey to find everything exactly as you'd left it. Her thighs tightened around his waist. Her arms wrapped around his neck. Her forehead pressed against his, that point of contact grounding her when everything else felt like it might spin away.

This is us. This is ours. No one can touch this.

The orgasm was still building inside her somehow, impossible but real, a slow tide rising in her belly despite having just come apart in his arms. She was getting wetter around him with every movement, her body producing fresh arousal, and she heard the soft slick sounds their bodies made as she rolled her hips. Her clit throbbed where it pressed against his pelvis and every grind sent sparks up her spine that settled at the base of her skull.

Tears pricked her eyes without warning. Relief and joy and the overwhelming rightness of this moment all tangled together until she couldn't tell which emotion was which, couldn't separate them into neat categories anymore. Her pussy clenched around him involuntarily and he groaned softly against her mouth, the sound vibrating through both their bodies.

She'd been so scared of losing him. Of Karina's perfect beauty making him see Yeji's flaws more clearly. Of the threesome proving she wasn't enough. Of this thing between them finally breaking under the weight of sharing.

And here he was, still hard inside her, still hers, still choosing her. Holding her like she was the most precious thing in the world while his cock stretched her open and his hands memorized the shape of her hips like he was afraid he might forget.

"Mine," she whispered against his lips, fierce and tender at the same time. The word coming out raw and honest. True. The simple, undeniable reality of what they were to each other when all the performance fell away.

His eyes softened. His hands tightened on her face, thumbs pressing into her cheekbones. His hips rolled up to meet hers, a slow deliberate thrust that stole her breath and made her gasp.

And she knew, with sudden crystalline certainty, that he felt it too.

[JIMIN'S POV - THIRD PERSON]

Karina watched from the couch.

No. Jimin watched from the couch.

The goddess had been set aside. The visual, the it-girl, the carefully constructed persona that had carried her through a thousand red carpets and a hundred photoshoots and a million moments where being beautiful was the job, all of it discarded like costume pieces after a performance. Just Jimin now. Yu Jimin, twenty-five years old, wrapped in a silk robe that cost more than most people's monthly rent, mascara smudged into something accidentally artful, thoroughly satisfied and emotionally naked in ways she hadn't expected when she'd lit these candles hours ago.

Her hand had drifted between her legs without conscious decision. Two fingers sliding through the mess Minho had left behind, through the mixture of her arousal and his cum still warm and slick against her oversensitive flesh. When she spread it over her swollen clit she had to bite her lip to keep from moaning out loud, to keep from interrupting what was happening across the room.

Every touch bordered on too much. Her pussy was still tender from everything he'd done to her, still puffy and aching and leaking his cum onto her inner thighs in slow trails. But she couldn't stop herself. She had to do something with her hands, with the energy building in her chest, while she witnessed this.

Because what she was watching was nothing like what had just happened to her.

The room had gone quiet in a way that felt sacred. The frantic energy of the threesome had dissolved into something softer, something that made Jimin feel like an intruder just by being present. The candles flickered low, casting warm honey light across their intertwined forms, and the shadows had turned gentle and protective, like the room itself was holding its breath for them.

Jimin understood now why she'd spent the afternoon setting this up. The candles everywhere. The silk sheets she'd special ordered. The jasmine-scented everything. This wasn't just her aesthetic, her need for beauty and control. It was a gift. Creating a space for something she'd recognized was going to happen even if they hadn't. Preparing a sanctuary for people she cared about when she knew they needed somewhere safe to be vulnerable.

For Yeji. For them both.

The sex Jimin had just experienced was transcendent. Earth-shattering. Neural-pathway-rewriting. Ruin-you-for-anyone-else fucking that would haunt her for years. Minho had taken her apart systematically, thoroughly, with the kind of devastating precision that explained why Yeji kept coming back to this man for five years despite every logical reason not to.

But this was something else entirely. Something that made Jimin's chest ache with yearning and recognition and a grief she couldn't quite name.

Jimin recognized the difference because she'd witnessed the alternative. Last night, or had it been this afternoon? Time had blurred. She'd watched Yeji take him from behind on this very couch, their bodies illuminated by these same candles. Doggy style. Hair wrapped around his fist. Her back arched impossibly, ass pushed up, face buried in the cushions. Yeji had been loud then, screaming his name for the audience, for Jimin, for herself. The performance of possession. The display of what she owned and what she could take and what she had to give.

Even then, Jimin had noticed something. Yeji's face had been turned away. Her eyes squeezed shut or looking at nothing, staring at the couch fabric like it held secrets. She'd been feeling him, yes, responding to every thrust with that choreographed synchronicity that came from years of knowing each other's bodies. But she hadn't been seeing him.

Now she couldn't look away.

This position stripped away everything Yeji used to protect herself. No hair-pulling to angle her face down and hide her expression. No cushions to bury her vulnerability in. No performance angle that let her choose what she revealed and what she kept hidden. Just chest pressed to chest, foreheads touching, eyes locked with nowhere to run and apparently no desire to try.

And Yeji wasn't running.

That was the thing that cracked Jimin's chest open and made her fingers move faster between her legs. The tiger, ITZY's fierce untouchable leader, had put herself in the most vulnerable position possible. Face to face. Heart to heart. Every flicker of emotion visible to the man inside her, every wall coming down in real time, every mask falling away.

This was surrender in a way that made the word beautiful instead of weak.

Jimin hadn't seen that on the couch earlier. She'd seen dominance. Possession. Mine spoken through body language and vocal volume. But she hadn't seen this, the soft animal underneath the performance, the woman who was terrified of being seen and chose to be seen anyway because he'd earned that gift.

Jimin watched Yeji's face transform as she moved in Minho's lap. All that ice-queen control that had anchored the threesome, the sharp commands, the possessive grip, the way she'd orchestrated every moment like a general commanding troops, all of it was dissolving now like sugar in hot water. The walls coming down brick by brick. The armor being set aside piece by piece. Until there was nothing left but a woman letting herself be seen in all her imperfection and fear and desperate need to be loved exactly as she was.

And God, Jimin couldn't look away from their bodies, from the way they moved together like a single organism.

Yeji's hips moved in slow, grinding circles. Not the frantic fucking from before. This was something more devastating, more intimate, more real. A figure-eight motion that kept him buried deep while she worked herself against his pelvis, her dancer's body knowing exactly what it was doing, years of muscle memory guiding her. Every roll precise. Every angle deliberate. The kind of movement that came from learning exactly how to make this particular cock hit exactly where she needed it, from countless nights of trial and error that had resulted in perfect knowledge.

Jimin watched where they joined, watched his shaft disappearing into Yeji's pussy with each downward grind. The same cock that had just been inside her, that had split her open and filled her up and drawn from her screams she'd never made for anyone else. The shine of arousal coating him, catching the candlelight. The way Yeji's lips stretched around his girth, pink and swollen and taking him like she'd done it a thousand times. Because she had. That was the thing that hollowed Jimin's ribs. She'd done this a thousand times and it still looked like the first. Still carried that reverence.

Yeji rose slightly, letting him slide almost out until just the head remained inside, stretching her entrance. Then she sank back down in one slow, devastating descent. The wet sound of their bodies meeting cut through the quiet room, obscene and beautiful and so intimate that Jimin felt like an intruder just hearing it, just bearing witness to this moment that wasn't meant for her.

Her fingers circled her clit faster now, matching their rhythm without conscious thought, unable to stop. She was getting wetter despite everything, Minho's cum mixing with her own fresh arousal and dripping down to pool on the expensive cushion beneath her. Two fingers slipped inside her still-tender pussy and she gasped at the intrusion, at the way her walls clenched around them, at the memory of how much bigger he'd felt, how much more he'd stretched her.

She watched Yeji's thighs flex with each movement, watched the muscles in Minho's stomach tighten as he rose to meet her, watched his hands grip her waist like he couldn't bear even an inch of separation, like the space between their bodies was a wound he needed to close through sheer force of will and proximity.

And somewhere in that observation, watching the way they moved and breathed and existed together, the truth landed in Jimin's chest like a stone dropping into still water.

In love.

That's what this was. That's what she was witnessing. Two people who were already there, already fully immersed, already drowning in it and not even trying to swim. Speaking it with every touch and breath even though they hadn't said the words out loud, maybe because they were too afraid to name something this enormous, this consuming.

Jimin pressed her hand over her own heart without thinking, felt it beating rapid and aching, full of something she couldn't quite name. Something closer to reverence than anything else. She was witnessing something sacred. Something private. Something that had nothing to do with her and everything to do with what love looked like when it was real and messy and imperfect and absolutely certain despite all the reasons it shouldn't be.

She saw it everywhere now that she knew to look for it.

In the way Minho held Yeji's face, palms cupping her jaw with the deliberate care of someone handling the only copy of something irreplaceable. His thumbs stroking her cheekbones with a tenderness that made her heart ache. His eyes never leaving hers, never, not even when Yeji's rhythm shifted and her whole body shuddered with the change.

In the way Yeji's fingers threaded through his hair, possessive and tender and desperate all at once. Holding him the way you hold the railing when the ground shifts - not because you're falling, but because you refuse to.

In the sounds they made. Quiet gasps and whispered names. The soft exhale of "there you are" and "I know" and "right here." Words that weren't meant for an audience. Words that weren't meant for anyone but each other, private language spoken in the spaces between breaths.

Jimin watched Yeji lean back slightly, and immediately saw the effect ripple through both of them. Yeji's thighs clenched around his waist, muscles going rigid. Her grinding became smaller, tighter, more focused, more desperate. She'd found that angle, that pressure, that perfect alignment that made everything else disappear except the sensation building in her core.

And Minho's hands adjusted on her hips without being told, without needing guidance, held her at that exact tilt and gave her something solid to work against while she chased her pleasure. He knew. Without asking, without being guided, he just knew. Years of paying attention did that. Years of caring enough to remember every gasp and moan and the particular way she moved when she was close.

This was what Jimin had lost with Jae-wook. This knowing. This being known. This having someone who paid attention long enough to learn the secrets of your pleasure and then made it their mission to build you a home there, to make you feel safe enough to fall apart.

This was what she'd been searching for in every disappointing hookup since. The Yonsei boys at the beach rave who treated her like a trophy to collect. The idol who lasted thirty seconds because touching her was "too overwhelming" for his limited experience. The actor who fucked her like a conquest to brag about at his next networking dinner. She'd been searching for connection and finding only friction, bodies colliding without ever truly meeting, without ever actually seeing each other beneath the performance.

And here were two people who had found it. Who had it right now, right in front of her, actually having it in a way that made every performance she'd ever witnessed look hollow by comparison, look like shadow puppets cast on a wall instead of real bodies creating real connection.

The warmth in her chest spread and expanded, became something she hadn't felt in months. Something dangerous and fragile and precious. Hope. If love like this existed, if it was real, if it was possible, if two people could find it in this industry, in this impossible world where everything was transaction and image and carefully managed parasocial relationships, then maybe she could find it too.

Someday. With the right person. Or maybe with herself first, maybe that was the lesson she needed to learn before she could find it with anyone else.

Her fingers moved between her legs again without conscious thought. Grounding herself. Feeling. Staying present in her body while she witnessed something beautiful unfold. The slickness made it easy, made every touch glide and slip. She was so wet from everything that had happened tonight, every nerve ending still singing, oversensitized in the best way. The orgasm building wasn't triumphant or explosive.

It was longing. Grief for what she didn't have yet. Beautiful grief, bearing witness to something that gave her hope even as it reminded her of her own loneliness.

She was about to cum to the sight of what she didn't have yet, and somehow that felt right. Felt earned. Felt like the price of admission for witnessing something this real, this honest, this nakedly vulnerable.

Maybe I need to find myself before I can find someone else.

The thought arrived unbidden, unexpected, landing with the weight of revelation that made her breath catch. Her own group's song, 'Mine', echoed in her memory. The one she'd sung a hundred times without really hearing, the lyrics she'd performed on a thousand stages without ever letting them touch her, without ever letting them mean something personal.

The shadows that fade without warning, mine.

A portrait that's fake like a broken mirror.

It feels like I've finally found myself, mine.

The broken mirror. The fake portrait. That was her. Karina. The goddess persona she'd been hiding behind since debut, the AI-perfect exterior that protected the messy human underneath from ever having to be vulnerable, from ever having to risk being seen and rejected. She'd constructed that armor so carefully, so completely, layer by layer over years, that she'd forgotten there was a person inside it. That she'd existed before Karina, that Yu Jimin had dreams and fears and desires that had nothing to do with being beautiful.

Jae-wook had loved Karina. The industry loved Karina. Twenty-two million Instagram followers loved Karina. The fans, with their fan cams and their parasocial devotion, loved Karina. Everyone loved Karina.

But who loved Jimin?

Who even knew Jimin anymore?

I'll swallow even the darkness, because it's me.

The realization landed soft and certain, like snow settling on familiar ground. She'd been searching for someone to fill the Jae-wook-shaped hole in her chest, to make her feel whole again, to validate her desirability and her worth and her capacity to be loved by someone other than millions of strangers who didn't actually know her. But she'd been searching as Karina, performing as Karina even in private moments, hoping someone would see through the mask without her ever having the courage to take it off.

The performance had evaporated. Yeji had abandoned the persona, the mask, the exhausting effort to present an idealized version for him to love. She simply existed. Raw and imperfect. The tender kitten usually hidden beneath the ferocious leopard skin, finally safe enough to unclench because she had found the one person who made the armor unnecessary.

And that's why it worked. That's why he looked at her like she'd hung the moon. Because she knew who she was first. Because she'd already claimed herself before trying to claim him.

"Mine," Yeji whispered against his mouth, and the word carried absolute certainty. She meant it. Because she knew who she was. Because she'd learned to be hers before becoming his.

Jimin's orgasm crested without warning, pleasure rolling through her in waves that made her whole body seize. She bit down hard on her lip to keep from crying out, tasting copper, feeling her walls flutter in rapid contractions around her own fingers that couldn't compare to him, that would never compare now that she knew what he felt like. More of his cum leaked out of her with each squeeze, dripping down onto the expensive silk cushion in evidence she'd clean up later. She came with tears on her cheeks and his seed between her thighs and something tearing open in her chest, some dam breaking.

Her pussy clenching around nothing while tears slipped down her cheeks, beautiful mourning, the grief of something precious witnessed and something precious lacking and the first fragile stirring of something that might, eventually, if she was patient and brave, become hope.

She was learning what she needed to search for. Not another Jae-wook. Not another man to complete her or validate her or make her feel whole. But herself first. The real her underneath all the makeup and performance. The girl from Seoul who used to trip over her own small feet at dance practice, who laughed too loud at jokes that weren't funny, who cried at sad movies and had dreams that had nothing to do with being beautiful or perfect or AI-generated flawless.

It feels like I've finally found myself, mine.

Not quite yet. But maybe soon. Maybe if she stopped performing long enough to remember who she used to be before Karina existed. Maybe if she let herself be messy and imperfect and human for once instead of goddess-perfect all the time.

The tears were grateful, like watching sunrise after a long, long night. Like bearing witness to dawn breaking and knowing that morning would come for her too, eventually, if she was patient enough to wait for it.

[MINHO'S POV - FIRST PERSON]

My orgasm built slowly, powerfully, drawn out by how connected we were, by every night we'd spent learning exactly how to move together, by the emotional weight of reclaiming each other after everything that had happened tonight.

Every sensation felt heightened beyond what physics should allow. The warmth of her body wrapped around mine. The slide of her pussy along my cock, tight and wet and impossibly perfect, molded to me over years of practice. The press of her forehead against mine, skin to skin, sharing heat. The taste of her breath on my lips, sweet and familiar.

Home. This was what home felt like, and I finally let myself acknowledge it without fear.

"Yeji," I breathed against her lips, her name the only prayer I knew. "I'm going to -"

"I know." She didn't stop moving, didn't speed up or slow down, just maintained that perfect rhythm she'd found. Letting me build, letting it happen naturally, giving me the gift of time. "I can feel you getting harder inside me."

"Fuck," I groaned, the word pulled from somewhere deep.

"I can feel it," she whispered, and her voice was soft and certain and everything I needed. "I can feel you. Give it to me."

My hands tightened on her face, fingers pressing into her cheekbones, thumbs stroking the soft skin there. My hips thrust up involuntarily, seeking depth I was already at, seeking connection I already had, seeking something that existed beyond the physical. My whole body tensed with the familiar edge of release approaching.

"Look at me," Yeji whispered, soft and certain as dawn. "Stay with me."

I did.

Eyes locked on hers as the orgasm crested, watching her watch me, letting her see everything I usually kept hidden. The vulnerability I pretended didn't exist. The need I'd never learned to voice. The five years of whatever this was finally crystallizing into something neither of us had named but both of us felt in our hearts.

She saw it. I know she did. I saw the recognition flash across her face, saw the answering emotion flood her eyes, saw her own walls crumbling in real time.

We both knew what this was, even if we couldn't say it yet.

When it hit, I withdrew halfway on instinct, some part of me wanting to see, wanting to witness this final claim.

And we both looked down to watch.

My cock pulsed visibly inside her. Once. Twice. Three times. Painting her inner walls white, leaking back out around my shaft, creating a pale ring where our bodies joined. Four pulses. Five. Six.

Less than my orgasm inside Karina. I had less to give now, my body finally reaching true limits after a day that had asked everything and then asked for more. But somehow this felt more intense, more meaningful, more real than any orgasm that had come before it.

Yeji watched it happen with an expression I couldn't fully read, layers of emotion crossing her face too fast to catalogue. Possessive, yes. Relieved, absolutely. Triumphant in a way that had everything to do with reclaiming territory and nothing to do with conquest. This is mine, her expression said without words.

This one was different from the tender ones before. Possessive and final, claiming and sealing something we'd both felt but hadn't named. Her tongue pushed past my lips, dominating, taking, owning. The kiss tasted like a vow signed in the dark - five years of "what are we" finally answered even if we couldn't speak it yet.

Time slowed. The room disappeared. There was only her mouth on mine, her tongue against mine, her body still wrapped around mine like she could fuse us together through sheer force of will. My cock softening inside her but neither of us moving to separate, neither of us ready to break this connection that felt more essential than breathing.

I didn't want to leave her body. She didn't want me to go.

So we stayed. Connected. Breathing together, our lungs finding the same rhythm, our hearts beating against each other's chests, the rhythms slowly synchronizing until they became one pulse shared between two bodies.

When she finally pulled back, she looked into my eyes with an intensity that landed somewhere behind my ribs and stayed.

The candlelight caught the amber flecks in her irises, made them glow like they had their own internal fire. They looked otherworldly, too beautiful to be real - a gift I hadn't earned but was holding anyway.

But she wasn't untouchable right now. She was just Yeji. Just the woman I'd been falling for without ever letting myself admit it, without ever letting myself believe I could keep her.

She whispered one word, soft as a breath: "Mine."

A declaration. A claim. A promise written in the way she held my face and the particular softness in her eyes. The word hung in the air between us, warm and certain and unshakeable.

My cock slipped out, too soft to stay inside anymore, her body finally releasing what it had been holding onto. We both looked down and watched her pussy slowly close, watched my cum already beginning to leak out in thick white streams, running down her inner thighs, dripping onto my lap in evidence of what we'd done.

She didn't move to clean herself, didn't reach for tissues or try to contain the mess.

Just stayed in my lap. Foreheads touching again. Breathing together. Letting my cum leak out of her like evidence that would dry and fade but whose meaning would outlast us both.

"Mine," she repeated contentedly, with quiet certainty. Like she'd been waiting five years to say it out loud and finally had permission.

Her thumb traced my jaw the way she always did after - precious and careful. Her eyes held mine, vulnerability written across her face in a way she usually never allowed. The fear still there beneath the certainty, the worry that I might not choose her back, that this moment would dissolve when reality returned.

She'd just given me everything. Claimed me in front of Karina. Marked me as hers. Chosen me over safety and careful distance.

And I knew she was still afraid I might not choose her back.

I cupped her face in both hands, thumbs stroking her cheekbones. Kissed her forehead slow and deliberate, letting my lips linger against her skin, trying to pour everything I felt into that simple gesture. Then pulled back just enough to press my forehead to hers, to breathe her air, to exist in the small space we'd created together.

"Yours," I said. Simple. True. The only word that mattered.

The word settled between us with the weight of a confession five years late - quiet enough to be prayer, certain enough to be vow.

And like a promise I wasn't sure I'd earned the right to make, not with Yuna and Ryujin knowing what they knew, not with the reckoning waiting for me when morning came.

But I said it anyway. Because in this moment, with her weight in my lap and her warmth against my skin and her eyes holding mine with absolute trust, it was true.

Even if I'd already betrayed it. Even if I'd have to confess eventually. Even if everything might shatter when the truth came out.

Yours.

Her breath caught in her throat. A small sound escaped her, something between a laugh and a sob, relief and joy tangled together so tight she couldn't separate them. The release of tension she'd been carrying all night, maybe longer, maybe for months or years.

"Mine," she whispered one more time. Three times total. Three declarations. Three promises. The magic number, the one that made things binding in fairy tales and myths and the stories we told ourselves about how love worked.

And I felt the truth of it settle into my bones, heavier than it should be. Hers. Always hers, even when I didn't deserve it. Even when the guilt was eating me alive. Even when the reckoning would come and destroy everything I'd just promised.

Hers.

The aftermath was quiet. Gentle. Warm in a way the threesome had never been, in a moment that felt almost fragile after so much intensity.

We'd rearranged ourselves on the L-shaped sectional without speaking, bodies moving on instinct. Yeji and I on one arm of the couch, our limbs tangled together like we were afraid separation would break the spell. Karina curled into the corner where the two sections met, her silk robe wrapped around her like armor she didn't quite need anymore. The cushions were ruined, probably. Sweat and cum and the evidence of everything that had happened soaked into expensive fabric that would never be the same.

None of us seemed to care.

Three bodies tangled together. Cooling down. Catching breath. Letting the world slowly come back into focus after being narrowed to just sensation and heat and need.

Yeji was tucked against my side, her head on my chest, her breath warm and steady against my skin. Her fingers traced absent patterns over my ribcage, just touching because she wanted to touch, because contact mattered more than words right now.

Karina sprawled on the adjacent section. One leg thrown over mine where the couch bent. Her hand idly drawing circles on my stomach, her touch lighter than Yeji's, less possessive, more grateful.

Not Karina anymore. Jimin. The goddess armor had been set aside completely, probably left wherever she'd dropped it when the threesome started. She looked different now, softer around the edges. Her mascara smudged in ways that made her look human instead of perfect. Her hair mussed beyond repair. Her lips swollen from being kissed and used. Her body still trembling slightly with aftershocks from everything that had happened.

She looked real in a way I'd never seen her look before. Not performing. Not projecting. Not being aespa's visual, the it-girl, the AI-perfect fantasy.

Just Jimin. Just a woman. Satisfied and cracked open and grateful for both.

I was completely spent in ways that went beyond physical exhaustion.

Twelve orgasms in one day. Twelve times my body had reached that peak and tumbled over, each one taking something from me I didn't know I had to give. I'd be lucky if my cock worked again for a month. Maybe longer. Biology had limits and I'd exceeded every one of them today.

But somehow that felt right, felt appropriate. Like I'd given everything I had, held nothing in reserve, left myself empty in the best possible way.

The room had gone golden with candlelight, the flames burning lower now but somehow warmer for it. Honey light flickered across the ceiling in shifting patterns, casting shadows that danced gently on the walls. The shadows were kind now, protective, like they were standing guard over something precious.

The silence was comfortable, the kind that only happened between people who didn't need to fill every moment with sound.

"That was..." Jimin started, then stopped. Laughed. A real laugh, genuine and surprised and slightly disbelieving. "I don't even have words."

"Good?" I offered, the word inadequate but all I had.

"Transcendent." She said it with absolute certainty, like she'd searched her vocabulary and found the exact right word. "That's the only word that fits."

She propped herself up on one elbow, looking at me with eyes that were softer than before, more present, more here instead of somewhere behind perfect facades. Her expression held something like wonder.

"Yeji wasn't exaggerating. You're... you're really good at this." She shook her head, still processing. "Like, unnaturally good. What the fuck."

"He had a good teacher," Yeji murmured without opening her eyes, voice lazy with satisfaction.

"You taught him?"

"I perfected him." Yeji's smile was small and content and proud without being smug. Just stating facts. "He was already attentive. Already cared about getting it right. I just showed him what I liked. He learned fast."

"Fast learner," Jimin echoed, looking at me with something approaching awe. "That's an understatement."

Silence settled again, comfortable and warm. Three people breathing together in the aftermath of something none of us fully understood yet, something that had changed us in ways we wouldn't recognize until later.

Jimin was quiet for a moment, her fingers still drawing absent patterns on my stomach. Then her voice came soft and careful: "Can I ask you something? Both of you?"

"Depends what it is," I said, already bracing for whatever was coming.

"How long have you two been exclusive?"

The question landed like a stone dropped into still water. Ripples spreading outward in circles. The comfortable silence cracking along invisible fault lines.

"We're not," Yeji said, but her voice wavered. Just slightly. Just enough to reveal the lie underneath the truth.

"Yes you are," Jimin said gently, with the certainty of someone who'd been watching closely. "Maybe not officially. But Yeji, you told me earlier you haven't been with anyone else in six months."

She looked at me with knowing eyes. "And Minho, have you?"

I thought about the pool. About Yuna's pussy stretched around my cock in the shallow end, her competitive bravado crumbling into something desperate and needy and raw. About the outdoor shower, her body pressed against mine in that cramped wooden cubicle, both of us holding our breath while Ryujin masturbated three metres away, my cock slipping inside her again because we were both too slick and too desperate to stay apart.

About Ryujin throwing open that shower door with The Beast still jutting from her pussy, her grin sharp and delighted as she processed what she'd found, as she understood exactly what she'd interrupted. About her forcing my face between her thighs on the pool deck, riding my cock like she was conquering territory, making Yuna watch every moment. About her asshole finally yielding after Yuna slicked me up with her mouth, that tight rough heat clenching around me while she came so hard she couldn't speak.

About Yuna's face when Ryujin made her sit on mine, the way shame and arousal warred in her expression. About the threesome that wasn't supposed to happen. About splitting my final load between them because Ryujin demanded I share, because she wouldn't let me choose.

About both of them knowing exactly what I'd done. And Yeji having no idea, trusting me in her ignorance.

The guilt surged up sharp and sudden, a knife between the ribs that stole my breath.

"I..." I hesitated, the word catching in my throat.

"He travels for work," Yeji said quickly, coming to my defense even though she didn't know what she was defending. "We don't ask. That's our arrangement."

The rescue came so naturally, so instinctively. She didn't even know what she was saving me from, just saw me struggling and moved to protect me because that's what she did. That's what we'd always done for each other.

That made it worse.

"But YOU haven't," Jimin pressed gently, her voice soft but insistent. "Your body chose him. Exclusively. Even when you didn't mean to."

Yeji was silent.

"That matters," Jimin continued. "That means something. And you should tell him."

"Tell me what?" I asked, looking down at Yeji.

She was quiet for a long moment. Then, so softly I almost didn't hear: "That I haven't been with anyone else since that party in Busan. Six months ago."

My heart stopped. The world narrowed to just those words echoing in my ears.

"You... what?"

"I couldn't," she whispered. "I tried to want to. Went to clubs, let guys buy me drinks, let them think they had a chance. I couldn't make myself go through with it. My body just... stopped responding to anyone who wasn't you."

The weight of that confession crushed me, pressed down on my chest until breathing hurt. Six months. She'd been faithful accidentally, biologically, unconsciously faithful for six months, her body making a choice her mind hadn't consciously decided.

And I'd fucked Yuna and Ryujin the first morning she left me alone.

"Yeji," I breathed, not knowing what else to say..

"It's fine," she said quickly, desperately.. "We never agreed to be exclusive. You don't owe me anything."

But I did. Fuck, I did. I owed her honesty at minimum, owed her the truth about what I'd done, owed her the chance to decide if this was still what she wanted when she knew the full picture.

Jimin watched this exchange with knowing eyes.

"You two need to figure out what you are," she said softly. "Before it's too late."

"We will," Yeji said, her hand tightening on my chest.

I held her tighter, the guilt eating me alive. But also something else underneath it, something that felt dangerously like hope. Like maybe, if I was careful, if I was honest, if I was better than I'd been this morning, I could deserve this. Deserve her.

The reckoning would come. It always did. But maybe I could face it and survive.

I needed to clean up.

The sticky evidence was becoming uncomfortable, drying on my skin in ways that itched. And maybe I needed a moment alone to process everything that had just happened, to let my brain catch up with my body.

"Bathroom," I murmured, pressing a kiss to Yeji's forehead before extracting myself carefully. "Be right back."

She made a soft sound of acknowledgment, shifting to let me up. Her fingers trailed down my arm as I moved, reluctant to break contact.

The bathroom was identical to ours back at the ITZY villa. Same layout, same fixtures, same ridiculous rainfall shower and heated floors that probably cost more than most people made in a year. But Jimin had transformed it somehow, the way she transformed everything she touched. Expensive candles on the counter, their scent mixing with jasmine. Silk robes hung on hooks. The space felt inhabited in a way ours didn't, lived in, made personal through small touches.

I turned on the faucet, let the water run cold before splashing it on my face. Started cleaning myself off with one of the soft towels folded by the sink, wiping away the evidence of the night.

Their voices drifted in through the door I'd left slightly ajar, soft and intimate. A conversation that wasn't meant for me, that I should probably tune out and respect their privacy.

Then I heard the word that made me freeze. Water still dripping from my hands into the sink.

"You're in love with him," Jimin said. A statement delivered with quiet certainty. "You know that, right?"

I should have walked away. Should have given them this moment. Should have respected the boundary of that door and the privacy it represented.

But my feet wouldn't move. I stood there dripping water onto expensive tile, heart pounding, holding my breath.

Yeji was quiet for a long moment, so long I thought maybe she wouldn't answer. "I don't know what we are. It's complicated."

"It's not complicated," Jimin said gently. "I watched you two. That's love. It's complicated maybe, but what you feel isn't."

Another long silence. I could picture Yeji's face, the way she looked when she was processing something she didn't want to acknowledge.

"What if I ruin it?" Yeji whispered, and her voice was so small, so vulnerable. "What if naming it breaks it?"

"What if waiting lets someone else take him?" Jimin countered softly. "Don't make my mistake, Yeji. I waited too long with Jae-wook. Let the external pressure and fear control me instead of just... claiming what was mine when I had the chance."

"What if he doesn't feel the same way?"

Jimin laughed softly. Warm. Knowing. "Trust me. He does."

I found myself moving closer to the door without conscious decision, drawn by the conversation like gravity. Peering through the crack, unable to stop myself from watching.

They were curled together on the sectional, bodies angled toward each other in that way women did when they were sharing secrets. Yeji tucked against Jimin's side, both of them wrapped in Jimin's silk robes, their postures relaxed in a way that suggested they'd forgotten anyone else existed.

"I watched him the entire time," Jimin continued, her voice soft but certain. "He wasn't just fucking me. He was doing it FOR you, to give you what you'd asked for. To make your gift to me perfect. He came back to you the second he could."

A pause, weighted with meaning. "That lotus position? He was coming home."

Yeji was quiet, but I could see the emotions crossing her face even from my limited view.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Water still dripping from my jaw. Heart pounding in my chest loud enough that I worried they might hear it.

She's right. It was coming home. That's exactly what it was.

"Don't wait too long," Jimin said softly, her hand finding Yeji's and squeezing. "I've seen what you two have. It's rare. Rarer than anything I've seen in this industry. Rarer even than the puppy love Chaeryeong and Sunwoo have going on, and that's saying something."

She exhaled slowly, and I heard the weight in it. "Don't let fear steal something you already have."

"I'll think about it," Yeji murmured.

"Good."

Jimin squeezed her hand again, a gesture of solidarity and understanding.

"And for what it's worth... I think I finally understand what I've been doing wrong. What I've been missing."

"What do you mean?"

Jimin was quiet for a moment, and when she spoke again her voice was different, softer, more honest than I'd heard it all night. "I've been trying to find someone to make me feel whole. To fill the space Jae-wook left. But watching you tonight, the way you claimed him, the way you just decided what you were without waiting for permission..."

She exhaled slowly, and I could hear the realization settling in. "Maybe I need to be mine before I can be anyone else's. Maybe that's what I've been missing."

Yeji turned to look at her, and even from my limited angle I could see the understanding pass between them. "That's... actually really insightful."

"Don't sound so surprised." Jimin's voice was dry, amused. "I do have thoughts occasionally. Between the orgasms."

They both laughed, soft and genuine. The sound of two women who understood each other better than they had hours ago, who'd shared something that created a bond neither of them had expected.

"Thank you," Jimin said quietly. "Both of you. For everything."

A pause, and her voice went softer. "For seeing me. For meeting me where I was."

Her voice caught slightly on the last words. "I forgot. I forgot what that felt like."

"I know," Yeji said, and her voice was warm with understanding, with the particular empathy that came from having been lost herself.

I turned off the faucet quietly. Dried my hands. Gave them another moment of privacy before padding back out to the living room.

They were still curled together on the sectional when I emerged. Yeji had shifted closer into Jimin's space, the two of them holding each other in a way that felt natural rather than performative, sisterhood rather than display.

I didn't mind. This was theirs. They'd earned this moment together.

Eventually, Jimin shifted. Sitting up slowly, moving like she didn't want to disturb the peace we'd created but knew it was time.

I heard the rustle of silk as she wrapped her robe around herself more securely, the soft pad of her bare feet on the floor as she stood.

"I should let you two get back," she said, her voice carrying the weight of satisfaction and reluctant goodbye. "Your members will wonder where you are."

"Probably," Yeji agreed, sitting up as well. "They might already be wondering. Ryujin doesn't sleep and Lia notices everything."

I forced myself to sit up, exhaustion turning my limbs to something warm and heavy, every joint protesting the effort.

Jimin looked at both of us with a soft, knowing smile that was entirely different from the goddess mask she'd worn at the start of the night. She looked younger somehow, lighter, more present in her own skin.

She looked like herself instead of SM's carefully constructed image.

"Thank you," she said again, the words simple but carrying weight. "Both of you. For everything."

Yeji stood and pulled on my t-shirt, the one I'd been wearing before this all started. It hung past her thighs, made her look impossibly soft and small and mine. I gathered up her sundress, the straw hat, her bag with the Instax camera still inside with remnants of a beach date that felt like it had happened in another lifetime.

She crossed to Jimin and embraced her without hesitation.

They held each other for a long moment, genuine affection rather than idol politeness, two women who had shared something they couldn't share with anyone else, who understood each other in ways they hadn't before tonight.

Jimin whispered something in Yeji's ear that I couldn't hear.

Yeji nodded. Squeezed her tighter in response.

Then Jimin came to me. Hugged me briefly, her body warm and soft and smelling like jasmine and sex and something that was just her underneath everything else. "Take care of her," she murmured against my ear, quiet enough that maybe Yeji couldn't hear.

"Always," I said, the word coming out before I could think about it.

But I meant it. Fuck, I meant it with everything in me.

Even if I'd already failed at it once today. Even if she'd find out eventually about Yuna and Ryujin and the pool and the shower. Even if that might shatter everything I'd just promised.

I'd find a way to deserve it. To become the person who could say "always" without the guilt turning the word to ash in my mouth.

We walked back to the ITZY villa holding hands like teenagers, like people who'd just discovered this simple form of connection and couldn't get enough of it.

I was shirtless, carrying her things like a pack mule. The sundress draped over one arm, her bag slung over my shoulder, her hat dangling from my fingers. She was swimming in my t-shirt, barefoot, her sandals hooked in her free hand. We probably looked ridiculous, probably looked like exactly what we were.

Two people stumbling home after something that had changed them in ways they were still processing.

The night had fully settled around us, cool and vast and infinite. Stars scattered across the sky in impossible numbers, the Milky Way visible in a way it never was in Seoul, a river of light cutting across the darkness, ancient and eternal and indifferent to everything happening below, to every human drama playing out on this small island.

The path was dark except for solar lights along the edges, soft pools of blue-white glow creating stepping stones through the darkness. The gardens breathed around us, plants releasing their night scents into air that tasted like salt and jasmine and possibility.

The memory hit me without warning, ambushing me when my guard was down. Yuna's body pressed against tile, water splashing over both of us, the guilt that had been building ever since. The outdoor shower back at the villa, that wooden structure I'd have to walk past every day for the rest of this trip. The place where I'd betrayed what Yeji's body had been trying to tell her for six months.

I held her hand tighter without meaning to, fingers clenching around hers.

She didn't notice why, didn't know what had caused the sudden tension in my grip.

Someday I'd have to tell her. Someday I'd have to stand in that exact spot and confess what I'd done, watch her face change as she understood the shape of my betrayal.

Our footsteps were quiet on the stone path, creating a rhythm in the darkness. Neither of us spoke. We didn't need to. The silence was comfortable, heavy with things we couldn't say yet but both felt.

Behind us, Jimin's villa lights dimmed one by one as we walked, windows going dark like eyes closing for sleep. Like the night settling in after bearing witness to something it would keep secret.

Ahead, the ITZY villa waited. Warm and quiet and safe, glowing softly in the darkness.

A single light burned in one of the upstairs windows. Someone still awake despite the late hour. Ryujin, probably. She never slept before 2 AM, her chaotic streaming schedule and natural night owl tendencies meaning nothing to her circadian rhythm. Or maybe Lia and Minjun, doing whatever it was they did when no one was watching, existing in their own private world.

I wondered what they'd see when we walked in. Whether our faces would give us away, whether the kiss-swollen lips and exhausted smiles would tell them everything we weren't ready to say out loud. Whether they'd know just by looking that something fundamental had shifted tonight.

Yeji's hand was warm in mine, solid and real and present. Her thumb traced absent circles on my skin - a new habit, something she'd never done before today. Before the beach. Before whatever permission she'd given herself when she reached for my hand in the villa and didn't let go.

The night air was cool against my bare chest, raising goosebumps on my arms. Salt and jasmine and the green smell of the gardens mixing together into something that smelled like Jeju, like summer, like this specific moment that I wanted to bottle and keep forever. The ocean murmured somewhere in the distance, that constant gentle breathing of something vast and patient and older than human concerns.

I looked up at the stars, at that river of light cutting across the sky.

They looked back, silent witnesses. To the day's betrayals, to the beach's tenderness, to the threesome's intensity, to Yeji sitting in my lap, that had rewritten something in me. Witnesses to whatever this was becoming, to whatever we'd become when morning broke and reality returned.

"That was intense," Yeji finally said, her voice soft enough to become part of the silence.

"Yeah." The word was inadequate, but it was all I had.

"I'm glad we did it though." She squeezed my hand, emphasizing the point. "For Jimin-ah. She needed that."

"And you?" I asked, needing to know. "Are you okay?"

She was quiet for a moment, and I could feel her thinking, processing, trying to find words for something complicated. "I don't think I can do that again. Share you like that."

"You don't have to." I meant it absolutely, with every fiber of my being.

"I know."

She squeezed my hand again, harder this time, her grip almost painful in its intensity. "But it was worth it. To help her. And to realize..."

She trailed off, the sentence hanging unfinished in the night air.

"Realize what?"

"That some things can't be shared." She looked up at me, her eyes reflecting starlight, making them look like they held galaxies and infinite depth. "And I'm okay with that. More than okay."

We walked the rest of the way in comfortable silence, letting the moment stretch between us. Our hands swinging gently between us. Our footsteps quiet on the stone. The ocean singing somewhere in the darkness, that eternal rhythm that never stopped.

The night air cooled my skin further, raising more goosebumps. It carried the salt-sweet smell of the sea and the green of the gardens and something else underneath, something that smelled like endings and beginnings at the same time, like the space between one breath and the next.

When we reached the villa door, Yeji turned to me before opening it. The stars were bright enough to see her face clearly despite the late hour, dimly illuminating every feature and every emotion playing across her expression.

She stood on her toes and kissed me softly, her lips gentle against mine. Tender where before had been possessive, sweet where before had been desperate. Just her lips on mine, her breath mingling with mine, her hand cupping my cheek.

When she pulled back, her eyes were shining with something that might have been tears or might have been starlight.

"Thank you," she whispered. "For being mine. Even when I'm too scared to say it out loud."

My heart cracked open in my chest, the fissure widening with each word.

"Always," I said, the promise leaving my mouth before my guilt could catch it.

The word hung between us in the cool night air, simple and true. A promise I wasn't sure I deserved to make but made anyway because I couldn't help myself.

She smiled at me, soft and vulnerable and real. The smile she only gave me when no one else was watching, when ITZY's Hwang Yeji had fallen away and only the Yeji I knew from the practice room remained.

And for that moment, under the stars, with her hand in mine, with the ocean singing behind us and the night wrapping around us like a blessing, I believed it could be true.

Tomorrow would come. The morning would bring questions I couldn't answer and truths I'd have to face. Ryujin would corner me with that sharp, appraising stare - the one that said she'd already decided what to do with what she knew and was just waiting for the right moment to deploy it. Yuna would be too loud, too cheerful, compensating so hard that even Chaeryeong would notice something was off - and then she'd catch my eye by accident and look away so fast she'd practically get whiplash.

But that was tomorrow. Tonight, standing here with salt air in my lungs and starlight in her eyes, I was hers. And she was mine.

And for now, that was enough.

It had to be.

ACT IV: Fin

Intro | Masterlist | Series Index Previous Chapter | Interlude (Chapter 17.5) | Next Chapter

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Author's Note

The title is a double reference to two very different songs. Chaeryeong’s “Mine” carries a sense of romantic certainty, the feeling of something already belonging to you in the deepest way. Yeji fits the line “forever mine, already mine.” That’s the space she finally steps into in this chapter. She has spent five years circling back to Minho, always knowing on some level that he was hers even when she refused to say it. She's finding herself through connection - the realization that I am loved.

Jimin sits in the opposite place. Her version of “Mine” comes from aespa’s song, which is about facing the parts of yourself you have hidden for too long. The lyric “a portrait that is fake like a broken mirror” breaks open the goddess persona, and “it feels like I have finally found myself, mine” marks the first moment the real Jimin begins to appear. Her journey is about reclaiming herself rather than a partner, and realizing she has been performing for so long that she forgot what it felt like to simply be human. She's finding herself through recognition - the acceptance that I am lovable.

The lotus position becomes the center of all of this. It's more than sex. It feels like a quiet ritual, a moment where Yeji and Minho breathe together and move together in a way that shows how deeply they understand each other. It holds everything they have been avoiding saying out loud.

Both meanings of “Mine” live inside this chapter and both are important.

P.S. Someone mentioned that the chapter carries a little bit of “This Is Me” energy from The Greatest Showman (a smash hit in Korea) and I actually agree, so I've inserted k-pop cover (of course) of the song as a background track where Jimin has her epiphany about finding herself from watching Yeji and Minho. Jimin starts to see herself clearly again, Yeji allows herself to be seen even though she is terrified of what that might mean, and Minho realizes that being seen might cost him something he is afraid to lose. All three of them reach a moment where they cannot hide anymore - it takes real courage to stand in that kind of light.

Why this song, here: Three naked bodies in the dark.This is what you came for, isn't it? “Gods” flips POV mid-track - screaming your name out becomes screaming my name out - and so does Minho. The witness becomes the deity. The guy whose whole gift was noticing finds out what being seen does to someone who’s never been seen: once you play God, they’re gonna crumble one by one - Karina first, because she was the highest pedestal and had the furthest to fall, and Yeji second, watching, the bad girl who woke up and chose violence by handing him over to find out whether her own heart was unbreakable or just untested. The song struts like a conqueror and the bridge admits the prayer underneath: help me raise this heart. The boast and the plea. The destruction and the worship. Two girls screaming His name into the dark, finding out which of them survives the kingdom coming.

My hands slid from Karina's hips to her ass, fingers sinking into plush flesh that yielded like it had been waiting for exactly this pressure, parting around my grip the way sand parts around water, reshaping itself to accommodate what was taking it.

Yeji's breath ghosted across my shoulder blade. Close. Watching. Her heat cutting through the thin air between us, her arousal mixing with Karina's, two distinct notes in the same chord.

Karina's skin burned under my thumbs, fever-warm and ready.

The physics were mesmerizing. Her ass compressed under my grip, dimpling where my fingers dug in, the flesh yielding and reforming around the pressure. So different from Yeji's firm, athletic glutes. This was softness. Luxurious, abundant, impossibly tactile.

Karina gasped at the intensity of my grip, her pussy clenching around me in response.

I knew what I was about to do to her. The way I'd unmade Yuna at the pool, the way I'd cracked Ryujin's armor on the deck. I'd spent five years learning exactly how to build pressure faster than a woman could release it, how to read every micro-response and weaponize it - counting down without knowing I was counting, each touch another second closer to detonation. I just hadn't understood what that meant until today.

Now I did. And I was going to push the button anyway.

"Can I - ?" My voice came out rough, barely recognizable.

"Yes," Karina breathed immediately, desperately. "Please. Fuck me. Really fuck me." A desperate whisper: "Bring it on."

Yeji shifted beside us, her hand finding my shoulder. "She earned it." Her voice dropped half an octave, throated and steady, the kind of tone that could have been permission or command, and I caught the slight hitch in her breathing beneath the words - vicarious hunger she couldn't quite hide.

I leaned forward, using my grip on Karina's ass to push her legs up and back. Higher, further, until her hip flexors strained and her breathing changed to shorter gasps as her diaphragm compressed against her folded body. Her inner thighs pressed hot against my ribs.

Then she reached up and took over.

Her hands found the backs of her own thighs, fingers curling around soft flesh, and she pulled, drawing her knees toward her chest, holding herself open for me. Her arms strained with the effort, biceps flexing, the tendons in her forearms standing out. The position folded her nearly in half, her massive breasts compressed between her thighs and her chest, cleavage impossibly deep and flushed, nipples dragging against her own skin with each breath. She was holding herself open, deliberately presenting, and the soft underside of her knee brushed my jaw with impossible tenderness. Yeji's hand slid from my shoulder to my lower back, steadying, grounding, her palm flat against the muscle there like she was claiming this moment too.

Karina's grip on her thighs tightened, knuckles whitening. Her pelvis tilted up, spine curved, exposing herself completely.

She had nowhere to hide like this. Nothing to hold back. And she was doing it to herself.

But I was watching her do it. And watching was its own form of taking - of worship that would unmake her, adoration dressed as erasure.

Karina's pussy was exposed now, stretched around my cock with pooled wetness visible even in the low light, the evidence of her earlier orgasm glistening on her inner thighs. Her face tilted up to look at me with eyes wide and lips parted, her expression caught between anticipation and apprehension while something hungrier built beneath the surface.

For someone used to being tall, commanding, in control, this position made her small. Completely at my mercy.

"Oh God," she whispered, and her vulnerability landed in my chest like a held breath.

Yeji moved to get a better view, kneeling beside us, one hand still on my shoulder, eyes riveted to where our bodies joined.

Something else entirely was about to happen here - something raw and consuming and beyond any category I had a name for.

The R&B pulsed low through the speakers. All bass and breath, dark honey dripping slow.

Then the music went distant, underwater, like the room had forgotten how to make sound, and Karina's breath held along with mine along with Yeji's - three people suspended in the same held moment.

I pulled almost all the way out. Slow. Feeling every inch of her plush pussy clinging to my shaft. Slow. Her walls trying to keep me inside, dragging against me, until only my tip remained. Her eyes locked on mine in the breathless dark. Slow. So slow it ached.

Then I slammed back in.

Detonation.

The force was unlike anything I'd given her before - all my weight, all my pent-up need, all the restraint I'd been holding back finally released in one catastrophic stroke. My hips met her ass with a wet, obscene slap that echoed off the villa walls, louder than the music, louder than our breathing. The impact traveled up through my pelvis, rattled my spine, made my teeth click together.

"FUCK - OH MY GOD -"

The air left her lungs in a rush, "HHHnnnnghh -", a raw punched-out sound beyond language - pure expelled sensation given voice. Her diaphragm seized against my stomach.

Her eyes went wide, pupils dilating past what should have been possible. Her mouth fell open in a perfect O. Her whole body jolted backward into the couch cushion, which compressed beneath her, springs creaking in protest.

But then her eyes found mine again.

Her eyes were hungry - past overwhelmed, past glazed, into something ravenous.

That goddess mask cracked. Underneath it: something feral, something desperate, something coiled so long it unfurled all at once. Her hands released her thighs and flew to my arms, gripping with bruising strength, pulling me into her even as the impact pushed her back.

More, her eyes said. Again.

A bead of moisture gathered at the corner of her eye, mascara beginning to streak and run.

The physics of the impact rippled through her body in slow motion -

Her ass cheeks compressed and bounced from the force, flesh jiggling and reforming. Her breasts bounced violently despite being trapped between her thighs and chest, the movement transmitted through her whole torso. The juice ring around my cock sprayed outward, droplets of her arousal misting into the air and landing on her stomach, her thighs, the couch.

The depth was impossible in any other position. My cock hitting her cervix, grinding against it, the pressure making both of us gasp.

Impact - her cry - springs screaming - all detonating in sequence, SLAP-"Ah!"-creak, the sounds colliding faster than I could separate them.

And underneath it all, the smell. Sex and sweat and arousal intensifying to something almost overwhelming, salt and musk and the faint jasmine of the candles all mixing together.

"Holy fuck," Yeji breathed beside us, her hand tightening on my shoulder. Her other hand found my hip, nails digging in, and her thighs pressed together involuntarily. She was wet. It was in her breathing.

"Harder," she whispered against my ear, her voice dropping into something dark and hungry. "Break her open."

I didn't give Karina time to adjust.

I pulled back and slammed into her again, and again, and again - hard and fast and relentless, everything she'd asked for, chasing something primal that had been building since I'd first watched her spread herself open, since I'd felt her plush pussy yield around every inch of me, since I'd seen her vulnerable and grateful and ready to receive.

Each thrust aimed deep, grinding against her cervix before the slow drag back, my weight and gravity and the leverage of her legs on my shoulders all conspiring to drive deeper, my hands gripping her ass and pulling her onto me with every stroke until the force became its own weather system, the room filling with the wet percussion of impact - slap slap slap slap - brutal, punishing, exactly what she'd been asking for without knowing how to ask.

Karina's experience unfolded across her face in real time, each phase bleeding into the next without warning - shock first, eyes going wide enough to show white all around, mouth gasping for air she couldn't catch while her hands flew back to grip her own thighs and hold herself open, presenting even through the overwhelm. Then adjustment, her pussy starting to accommodate the assault as pleasure mixed with intensity until she couldn't tell them apart, her head thrown back with throat exposed and tendons straining, gasps lengthening into moans that dragged through the thick air like smoke.

Then her head snapped forward and her eyes locked onto mine with something wild in them.

The composed idol dissolved. The goddess mask cracked and shattered. What emerged was feral and raw and stripped bare, mascara streaking down her temples in dark rivulets, mouth open and panting, and her eyes said ruin me with a clarity that needed no words.

After that she was just feeling -

Her head oscillated between thrown back and snapping forward, alternating between losing herself and finding my eyes again, and each time she looked at me she was smiling - the smile of someone getting exactly what she needed.

The sounds layered into something symphonic: ass cheeks clapping against my pelvis with each impact, pussy squelching so loudly it rivaled the slap of skin, wetness running down to soak the couch beneath her. Everything bounced - breasts hard enough to hurt with nipples dragging against her thighs, toes curling and uncurling on my shoulders while her legs trembled, arms in constant desperate motion from gripping her thighs to clawing at the cushions to reaching for my neck to flying back when a deep thrust made her need to anchor.

The careful idol perfection had dissolved into something messier and more honest, mascara streaking down both temples and mixing with sweat, makeup destroyed in the best possible way.

"Yes, fuck, harder, don't stop, oh God don't fucking stop"

The words fragmenting between impacts as rhythm turned language into percussion.

Slap - "AH" - slap - "Fuck" - slap - "Ssibal" - slap - "Please"

"You feel so fucking good," I groaned, and meant it. "So perfect - so fucking soft -"

"That's it," Yeji encouraged from beside us, her voice tight with her own arousal. Her hand slid from my shoulder down my sweat-slicked back, tracing the muscles working beneath my skin. "Give it to her. She deserves it. She deserves all of it."

Her hips were rocking forward against nothing. Small, unconscious movements. Watching me fuck Karina was making her desperate, and knowing that made me fuck harder.

I lost myself in the rhythm, in the wet heat of Karina's pussy and the way her body yielded and took everything I gave her, in the sounds - fuck, the sounds - of complete sexual abandon.

The room grew hotter. Sweat ran down my spine in rivulets, pooled in the hollow of my lower back, dripped from my chest onto her stomach where it mixed with hers. My quadriceps burned, the sustained effort of driving into her at this pace, this force, turning my thighs to fire. Karina's nails had found my forearms and dug in, crescent moons of pressure that would leave bruises tomorrow. The friction between us changed as sweat slicked our skin, wetter, easier, louder.

Karina's skin gleamed slick and flushed in the shadowed room, heat radiating off her like embers refusing to die. The couch springs sang a rhythmic complaint beneath us, metal straining with each impact. The air itself felt thick, heavy with exertion and arousal and something building toward critical mass. The jasmine had long since been overwhelmed. Now it was just sex, salt, the copper-penny edge of effort pushed past limits.

"You're so deep - fuck - you're so fucking deep -"

The words came out wrecked, barely recognizable as language.

"I can feel you - in my stomach - oh God -"

I lost count somewhere in the thirties, the numbered sequence dissolving into pure rhythm, into the wet percussion of bodies colliding and yielding and colliding again. Time stretched and compressed, each thrust containing its own eternity while the sequence blurred into continuous motion.

Then I stopped.

Fully buried, grinding slow. Her gasp at the sudden shift, the contrast hitting her nervous system like cold water. Her eyes flying open, searching my face, desperate. And me, noting all of it, cataloguing, the part of my brain that should have shut off still measuring her responses.

"Please," she breathed. "Please don't stop."

I gave her one long, devastating stroke. Pulling out until the tip caught her entrance. Slow. Sinking back in. Slow. Every ridge, every vein, every inch of me claiming space inside her. Slow. The wet sounds stretched out, obscene and deliberate, dark honey dripping from a spoon.

"Mmnh -" Yeji, beside me. Small, involuntary. A moan that escaped before she could catch it.

I shouldn't feel this good doing this to her, I thought. Shouldn't want to watch them both fall apart.

But I did. And I couldn't stop.

The rhythm resumed faster now, building toward something inevitable as thought dissolved and instinct took over. I became pure rhythm and pure impact, the thing that unmade - the man who'd held guilt and awareness all morning melting away until only this primal force remained. I was become death, and she was begging for the ending.

And Karina beneath me was no longer an idol but a woman with mascara ruined in wet black tracks streaming from her eyes into her hairline, lips swollen and parted and gasping, hair plastered to her forehead with sweat, hands white-knuckled on the backs of her thighs and still holding herself open even as her arms shook with the effort.

The goddess, wrecked - and looking at me like I was the only thing in the world.

[KARINA'S POV - THIRD PERSON]

The second orgasm built faster than the first.

Her body was already betraying her, every nerve ending still firing from the previous climax with synapses refusing to reset and pleasure receptors stuck in the on position. Her own wetness was obscene and copious, squelching with each thrust, and her inner walls kept trying to grip him tighter even as they spasmed without her permission.

And the angle. Fuck, the angle.

The room went soft at the edges - walls dissolving, candlelight smearing - while his cock stayed knife-sharp inside her, hitting something deep. Deeper than she'd known existed. The pressure against her cervix should have hurt. Maybe it did. She couldn't tell anymore where pain ended and pleasure began, everything blurring except the brutal clarity of him filling her.

Too much, her brain whispered. This is too much.

More, her body screamed back. More more more.

Her pussy started fluttering around him, the contractions becoming continuous, rhythmic, desperate. Like her body was trying to milk him before her mind could catch up. She felt the tension coiling low in her belly, tighter than before, wound so tight it was almost unbearable.

Her thighs trembled against his chest and she couldn't stop them, couldn't control anything anymore as her back arched despite the fold, spine curving impossibly to offer herself up even more - instinct taking over, biology claiming what her mind couldn't control.

Her toes spread wide on his shoulders then curled tight then spread again, reflexive and helpless.

"Don't stop - please don't stop - I'm gonna - I'm gonna -"

Her voice cracked. Pitched higher than she recognized. Was that her? That desperate, wrecked sound?

"You're gonna make me - oh fuck - oh fuck I'm -"

She couldn't finish. Words were too hard. Everything was too hard except feeling.

Her body knew before her mind did. Stopped fighting. Stopped reaching. Just softened - thighs falling wider, spine arcing deeper, opening to the tide building inside her. It pulled her under. She was drowning, watching herself drown from somewhere far above.

"Do it," he commanded, slamming deep and grinding. "Cum for me."

The authority in his voice hit something primal. Something that wanted to obey. Wanted to give him everything.

Yeji's voice from somewhere above: "Let us see you fall apart again."

Fall apart. Yes. That was exactly what was happening.

The pressure became unbearable with every muscle in her core clenching, bracing for impact, and then his forehead pressed against her knee - just for a moment, tender and almost sweet - and the contrast made her chest ache even as her body wound tighter and tighter until -

It hit.

Violence - pure detonation in her core, chain reaction starting where his cock hit deepest and splitting her apart atom by atom, vision whiting out and air stolen and every muscle locking at once. The first orgasm had been a rolling wave but this was nuclear, and she heard herself scream somewhere far away, muffled, underwater, felt it tear out of her from a distance as the shockwave rolled through her body.

Her thighs clamped against his ribs. Her abs went rigid. Her fingers found his forearms and dug in, nails breaking skin, needing something to anchor her to this reality because the pleasure was trying to pull her somewhere else entirely.

And her pussy, oh God, her pussy clamped down on him so hard she felt him stop. Felt him freeze inside her, trapped in her velvet stranglehold, and some dark satisfied part of her thought good, stay, don't you dare leave.

Her inner walls spasmed around him, rhythmic pulses that felt like they were trying to pull him deeper. Milking him. Demanding. Her body knew what it wanted even if her brain couldn't form the thought.

Fill me. Fill me up. Give it to me.

Then something else happened.

A rush of pressure, a release she'd never felt before, and suddenly she was wet in a new way, fluid spraying out around his cock, soaking him, soaking her, soaking everything.

Oh my. Oh no.

Her legs tried to close instinctively. Shame flooding hot and immediate through the pleasure. What was her body doing? What was happening to her?

His hands caught her thighs. Held them open. Kept her exposed even as she tried to hide.

"Let it happen," Yeji whispered. Soft. Dangerous. "Let us see."

A sob broke out of her, raw and overwhelmed and too much, and the pleasure hadn't stopped - still crashing through her in waves with this humiliation mixing into it, the combination intensifying everything until being seen at her most vulnerable became its own kind of high.

She was shaking and couldn't stop, tremors running from her toes through her calves through her thighs through her whole body like electricity that had forgotten how to ground itself.

His cock throbbed inside her. She felt every pulse. Felt how close he was. And that dark greedy part of her, the part she didn't know existed before tonight, wanted it.

Cum inside me. Fill me up. Mark me. Make me yours.

The thought should have shocked her. Should have triggered alarm bells about safety, consequences, rationality. But she was beyond rational, watching herself from somewhere outside her body - a creature of nerve endings and need and this aching desperate emptiness that wanted to be full.

Her orgasm kept going and going, endless, her pussy clenching and releasing around him in rhythmic waves that seemed to stretch time itself, trying to pull him over the edge with her.

Please. Please cum inside me. I need it. I need you to.

When it finally released her she collapsed boneless, gasping like she'd forgotten how to breathe, but the aftershocks hit immediately - smaller clenches and involuntary spasms, her body still trying to milk what it wanted from him.

"I'm close," he gasped above her. "I'm really fucking close -"

His hips still moving in small thrusts, and she felt each one deep, so deep, every cell in her body screaming yes yes yes.

Don't stop. Don't pull out. I want it. I want all of it.

Then Yeji's voice cut through her haze.

"Pull out. Give it to both of us."

Her eyes flew open. Still glazed. Still trembling. "What - ?"

No. The protest rose immediate and irrational. No, he's mine right now. I earned this. I want him to finish inside me.

But Yeji was already smiling. Sharp and generous.

"You heard me. I want to share this part too."

And Karina understood even through the haze - this wasn't generosity but Yeji drawing a line: You can have him inside you, his cock and his attention and his devastating focus. But the finishing, the marking? That's mine to share. Mine to give. Mine to take back.

The selfish feral thing inside her that wanted to clamp down and keep him warred with the part that understood, that saw Yeji's generosity for what it was: a gift with boundaries; borrowed warmth, not surrendered flame.

But for one heartbeat she hated her for asking.

[MINHO'S POV - FIRST PERSON]

"You heard me." Yeji's smile was sharp and generous simultaneously. "I want to share this part too."

Part of me, the primal part, the part that had been buried in Karina's plush heat for the last however-many-minutes, screamed in protest. Every nerve ending wanted to stay, wanted to finish exactly where I was, wanted to flood her with everything I had and watch her face when she felt it. Biology demanding its conclusion.

But Yeji's eyes found mine, and I saw what she was actually asking.

Come back to me. Even just for this.

I pulled out of Karina slowly, and we all watched the visual.

A string of wetness stretched between us as I withdrew, slick and obscene in the shadowed room, thinning and finally breaking to land on her inner thigh. Her pussy gaping slightly, stretched from the pounding, inner walls flushed bright pink and visibly pulsing with aftershocks. So wet she was dripping, arousal running down the crack of her ass and pooling on the silk couch.

Yeji swallowed audibly beside me. I heard it. The wet click of her throat.

Both women moved to kneel before me.

Karina slid off the couch on shaking legs, dropping to her knees on the soft rug. Yeji joined her immediately, positioning herself side by side, their shoulders touching.

The contrast between them was devastating - Karina carrying destruction's aftermath in every line, skin flushed with spent heat, mascara ruined in dark tracks down her cheeks, lips swollen and flushed, eyes unfocused but hunger returning, while Yeji beside her was controlled chaos barely contained, eyes dark with unspent arousal and skin flushed, perky breasts rising with rapid breaths, the precision of her body a counterpoint to Karina's devastation.

Both beautiful and both wanting, looking up at me with faces tilted and waiting, their knees touching on the soft rug, Karina's dark hair brushing against Yeji's shoulder where they leaned together with their breaths mixing in the space between them.

Karina was boneless but eager, following Yeji's lead, learning how to receive even this. Even my cum. Even being marked. Even the visual degradation that was actually intimacy in disguise.

Yeji's hand found Karina's jaw, positioning her with gentle firmness. Her thumb traced Karina's lower lip, wiping away a smear of saliva.

"Tongue out," Yeji instructed, her voice dropping low. "Show him you want it."

Karina obeyed immediately.

Yeji did the same, her own tongue extending, both of them offering themselves, ready to accept.

I stood before them, my cock in my hand, thick, flushed dark purple, pulsing visibly with my heartbeat, slick with Karina's arousal from base to tip.

Aimed at both their faces.

My grip tightened at the base, and I began to stroke.

Long, slow pulls from root to tip. Twisting slightly at the head the way I knew drove me crazy. Pre-cum beading at the slit immediately, dripping down to land on their extended tongues.

Their faces tilted up with mouths open and tongues extended and waiting, the contrast of Yeji's smaller firmer body beside Karina's voluptuous softness catching the candlelight along with the wetness on their tongues, the flush on their cheeks, the anticipation pooling dark in their eyes.

Yeji leaned forward first, pressing a kiss to the tip of my cock, lips soft and familiar, tongue flicking out to taste the pre-cum gathering there.

Karina followed suit, her kiss more tentative but just as reverent.

Their tongues occasionally touched each other as they both worked my tip, sliding past one another, sharing the taste, sharing me, creating sensations that made my hand falter in its rhythm.

"Fuck," I breathed, fighting for control that was rapidly dissolving.

They took turns, Yeji kissing up the left side of my shaft, Karina the right, their mouths meeting at the top before pulling back. Then reversing. Tongues sliding along my length, tasting Karina's arousal mixed with my pre-cum, eyes occasionally meeting each other and something unspoken passing between them.

Sharing him and sharing the moment and sharing something that went beyond sex into actual connection.

My hand worked faster as the wet sounds of stroking mixed with their soft hums of satisfaction, my breathing turning ragged with chest heaving on each desperate inhale, stomach muscles clenching and releasing in visible tremors while my cock throbbed in my grip and swelled even thicker, the head going impossibly dark.

"I'm gonna - fuck - I'm gonna -"

The warning came out strangled, barely coherent.

They pressed closer together immediately, their cheeks touching now, faces so close their breaths mingled. Tongues extended further, eyes locked on my cock. Yeji watching with hungry focus. Karina with her eyes closed and expression almost worshipful.

I reached down. Wiped a bead of pre-cum from the tip with my thumb. Pressed it against Karina's lower lip, painting her. She shivered at the touch, her tongue darting out to taste.

The pressure at the base of my spine reached critical mass.

My hand stilled, gripping tight, cock pulsing once and then twice as my knees buckled and I caught myself with one hand on Yeji's shoulder for balance.

The first rope erupted with force I wasn't expecting, thick and white and obscene, painting a line across both their faces - from the bridge of Karina's nose to Yeji's cheek, connecting them literally. Karina shivered. The second hit before I could process the first: Karina's forehead and hair, dripping immediately into her eyebrows. The third caught Yeji's mouth and chin. She arched toward it, wanting more, catching some on her extended tongue. Swallowed deliberately. Her eyes never leaving mine.

Fourth and fifth hit lower - their chests, Karina's deep cleavage catching and pooling, Yeji's small breasts splattered white against flushed skin. The final ropes were smaller, landing on their shoulders, their collarbones, running down the hollows of their throats.

White against tan skin in stark contrast, dripping and sliding and pooling in every hollow and curve - obscene and beautiful and intimate all at once, their faces marked and their chests painted, both of them claimed in the most primal way possible.

Karina was gasping with eyes still closed, her expression reverent like she was receiving a blessing, while Yeji remained deliberate - catching drops on her tongue, tasting, savoring, her control somehow intact even covered in my cum. Both of them perfect and both of them mine in this moment.

Yeji leaned forward first, her movements deliberate and practiced.

Her tongue found my softening cock, licking from base to tip with long, slow strokes. Cleaning every inch. Her eyes stayed on my face the entire time, watching my reactions, maintaining connection even in this service.

Karina watched, fascinated, with genuine interest. Watching how Yeji approached this, the care and attention she gave, how it wasn't performative but actually devotional.

When Yeji pulled back, Karina leaned in.

Her tongue joined Yeji's on my shaft, two tongues sliding along my length simultaneously, passing each other, occasionally tangling together. They cleaned every inch methodically, thoroughly, tasting my cum mixed with Karina's arousal still coating me.

The sensation was overwhelming despite my softening, too sensitive, bordering on painful, but I couldn't tell them to stop because it felt too good, too intimate, too perfect.

When they reached my tip, their tongues met, circling the head together, flicking against each other, creating a tangle of sensation that made my cock twitch despite being spent.

Then they turned to each other.

Still kneeling before me but focused on one another now, they began cleaning each other's faces.

Yeji's tongue traced a path along Karina's jaw, licking up the cum dripping down her chin, up her cheek, across the bridge of her nose, to her forehead. Deliberate, thorough, sensual.

Karina reciprocated, gentler, more tentative, but just as thorough - licking cum from Yeji's cheek, her chin, the corner of her mouth.

Then their mouths met in a kiss that was more cum than saliva, sharing the taste between them, tongues sliding together in a mess of fluids and intimacy.

I watched, my cock already beginning to harden again despite the impossibility.

Ten times today. About to be eleven. My body shouldn't be capable.

But watching them kiss, watching them share me, watching the tenderness and eroticism mixing into something transcendent -

Biology became irrelevant again.

***

We'd collapsed onto the couch in a tangle, all three of us catching our breath - cum-stained, sweat-slicked, satisfied but somehow knowing we weren't done yet.

Yeji's hand found my hair and smoothed it back from my forehead, tender and possessive at once, while Karina's fingers traced absent patterns on my thigh with a touch still reverent and still disbelieving.

Karina's voice broke the comfortable silence, awed and a little disbelieving.

"How are you hard again?"

I looked down at my cock. Half-hard and still rising, defying every law of refractory periods and human limitation.

"I don't know," I admitted honestly. "I shouldn't be."

Yeji smiled. Small and knowing and a little dangerous.

"We're not done breaking her yet."

Karina's breath caught. Her eyes met Yeji's, asking wordlessly: Can I? Can we?

Yeji looked at her for a long moment. Seeing her as a giver, as an equal, as someone who understood what it meant to care for others even at cost to yourself.

"Okay," Yeji said softly, and then after a pause that felt weighted with meaning: "But this time... this time I want to feel connected the whole time."

Karina reached for Yeji's hand and Yeji took it and I covered them both with mine.

We rearranged ourselves on the couch with the fluid grace of people who'd moved beyond awkwardness into genuine intimacy.

Karina positioned herself on her side, one leg extended along the couch cushions, the other raised and bent at the knee. Her body was a landscape of softness and surrender, curves that dipped and flared and gave, the architecture of someone built to receive and hold and comfort. Everything about her invited approach, invited touch, invited staying.

I lay facing her, mirroring her position. Both of us on our sides, faces inches apart. Close enough to watch each other while Yeji stayed connected behind me.

Yeji pressed herself against my back immediately.

Her small breasts flattened against my shoulder blades, her nipples hard points of contact. Her arms wrapped around my waist from behind, hands splaying across my stomach, creating a connection that anchored me even as I prepared to enter Karina again.

Three bodies nested together, all connected, all touching.

I lifted Karina's raised leg higher, positioning it over my hip, opening her up. Her pussy was still swollen from the earlier pounding, flushed dark pink, glistening with wetness that had never stopped flowing.

She watched my face as I lined up, her eyes soft and vulnerable and trusting in a way that made my chest ache.

"Ready?" I murmured.

"Yes," she breathed.

I pushed inside slowly this time.

Savoring. Feeling every inch of her plush pussy yielding around me, accommodating my cock with that luxurious compression. Still sensitive from two orgasms but taking me anyway, wanting more, ready to receive.

Karina gasped as I bottomed out - the angle different, hitting new spots, creating sensations she hadn't felt in the previous positions.

Behind me, Yeji's arms tightened around my waist. Her lips found my shoulder blade, pressing a kiss there. Her breath was hot against my skin when she spoke.

"I'm here," she whispered. "I'm with you."

And somehow that made everything more intense - knowing she was literally holding onto me, maintaining connection even while I was inside someone else.

I began to move.

The pace shifted - slower, more deliberate. My hips rolling in a rhythm that felt almost like dancing, each thrust deep but controlled.

The angle was tighter because of the position - limited range of motion but compensated by depth, by the way my cock dragged against different places inside her, by the grinding contact our bodies made with each stroke.

Every time I withdrew from Karina, the movement pushed me back into Yeji.

Her body rocked with mine, moving in sync, her hips pressing against my ass with each pullback, her breath timing with my thrusts. Her hands roamed - across my stomach, up my chest, occasionally reaching down between Karina and me to feel where we joined.

Karina's experience was written on her face in real time -

Her eyes fluttered between open and closed, trying to maintain contact with mine but overwhelmed by sensation. Her mouth stayed parted around soft gasps. Her free hand found my shoulder, gripping, maintaining connection.

"You feel so good inside her," Yeji murmured in my ear, and the intimacy of the observation made my cock pulse.

"She's so fucking soft," I responded, meaning it as compliment and fact.

"Don't stop," Karina breathed. "Please don't - this is - AHH -"

Her words trailed off into moans as I found a particularly good angle, as Yeji's hand slid down to play with Karina's clit, as all three of us moved together in a rhythm that felt inevitable.

"Both of you -" Karina gasped, eyes wet. "I can feel both of you - everywhere -"

Her voice broke on the last word, something raw and grateful underneath.

The position created constant contact. Karina's body against mine, my body against Yeji's, pleasure flowing through all three of us like current through linked circuits.

After several minutes of that slow, rolling rhythm, I felt Karina's body tensing in a familiar way - her third orgasm approaching, building slowly but inevitably.

But she made a sound of frustration, of wanting but not quite getting what she needed.

"I want - I need -" She couldn't finish, struggling to articulate something.

Yeji understood immediately. She always did.

"You want to taste me?" Yeji asked gently.

Karina's eyes flew open, meeting Yeji's over my shoulder. "Please. Let me - I want to take care of you too -"

Even now. Even with my cock still buried inside her, pleasure still rippling through her body. She was reaching for someone else.

Yeji smiled - warm and understanding and generous.

"Take me," she said simply.

The transition happened in a flash, the three of us adjusting positions with surprising coordination.

Karina rolled more onto her stomach, her body shifting from sideways to face-down but not quite flat - somewhere in between, her weight on her forearms and one hip.

Yeji moved in front of her, lying on her side, one leg extended, the other bent and raised to open herself up.

I slipped out of Karina during the shift - unavoidable - and she made a small sound of loss, her hips pushing back instinctively, searching. I knew the feeling. Already missed the heat of her, the tight grip.

But only for a moment. I found my position - one knee on the couch, the other leg extended behind her, foot planted on the floor for leverage - and sank back in.

Karina's exhale was pure relief. Mine too.

The angle let me fuck her from behind while she had access to Yeji - my chest hovering over her back, close enough to feel her heat but not pinning her down, giving her room to move her mouth where it needed to go.

The geometry aligned perfectly - all three of us arranged in a single line. Yeji at the front, legs parted and waiting. Karina in the middle, connecting us. Me behind, buried inside her, able to set a pace that would ripple through to Yeji.

Karina's face hovered just inches above Yeji's pussy - already wet again, pink and swollen and ready despite having cum on Karina's fingers earlier.

Karina looked up at Yeji's face, asking silent permission one more time.

Yeji's hand found Karina's hair, fingers threading through the strands with possessive tenderness.

"Taste me," Yeji breathed.

Karina's tongue extended, and she took her first tentative lick.

Yeji's sharp inhale echoed through the room.

Her back arched involuntarily, her hand tightening in Karina's hair, her thighs trembling.

"Oh fuck - yes -"

Karina grew more confident with each lick, her tongue finding rhythm and pressure, exploring what made Yeji gasp versus what made her moan.

Behind Karina, I resumed my slow thrusts.

My hands found her waist - not her hips, her waist - and the difference from Yeji was immediate. My fingers sank into flesh that yielded like rising dough, compressing and reshaping around my grip. I could feel her breathing against my palms, her belly expanding with each inhale, contracting with each gasp. The plush give of her made me grip harder, watching my fingers disappear into that abundant softness.

Karina's hips rolled back into me - a small, desperate circle, the only movement she could manage with her face buried in Yeji. Her shoulder blades shifted against the air between us, reaching.

And I discovered something incredible.

Every time I drove forward into Karina's pussy, the momentum carried through her whole body, her face pressing deeper into Yeji, her tongue flattening against Yeji's clit with more pressure, more friction, and Yeji gasped and bucked her hips, and when I withdrew Karina's face pulled back slightly and Yeji whimpered at the loss, her hand tightening in Karina's hair trying to pull her back, and I thrust again harder this time and Karina's face buried itself in Yeji's pussy, her tongue working with desperate pressure, and Yeji cried out, back arching, and the feedback loop was immediate and intoxicating.

I could feel it building with each cycle - my thrust pushing Karina's mouth harder against Yeji, Yeji's moans making Karina's pussy clench around me in response, those clenches spurring me to thrust harder and drive Karina's tongue deeper into Yeji. Around and around, each action triggering the next, pleasure flowing through all three of us in an unbroken circuit with my cock as conduit and Karina as bridge and Yeji as the destination that looped back to the beginning.

Three bodies moving in impossible rhythm - physics had no equation for this, the universe had made no provision.

The sounds layered into something symphonic - Karina's muffled cries meeting Yeji's sharp gasps meeting my low grunts. Call and response and call again, the circuit humming audibly now.

I fucked Karina and felt Yeji's pleasure through the way Karina's pussy responded, and Karina ate Yeji and transmitted every moan, every gasp, every clench of Yeji's thighs into rhythmic pulses around my cock, and Yeji's hand gripped Karina's hair, directing her, holding her in place, her commands translated into the angle and pressure of Karina's tongue, all three of us locked together, building, amplifying, the circuit complete and humming.

Then I lowered myself onto her.

My chest met her back. My weight pressing her flat into the couch. Slow. Karina's muffled cry vibrating directly into Yeji's pussy. Slow. The position shift changing everything. And then I was on her - pinning her, my hips driving in shorter strokes now, deeper, grinding more than thrusting, piledriving straight down.

"Mmph -" Karina tried to lift her head but couldn't - Yeji's hand held her in place, my weight held her down. Trapped between us. All she could do was take it.

I reached around and my hands found what they'd been wanting - her tits, those massive pendulous breasts that had been swaying and compressed all night, spilling into my palms from underneath, impossibly heavy and impossibly soft with the flesh yielding around my fingers as I cupped and squeezed. Her nipples dragged against my palms, hard points in all that softness.

Karina's whole body shuddered. I felt it through my chest, through my grip on her tits, through her pussy clenching around my cock. Her hips tried to buck up into my thrusts but my weight held her pinned - the only movement available to her was small desperate circles, grinding her clit against the couch cushion as I drove down into her.

Her toes curled against my calves - I felt it, the only part of her body with freedom. Her fingers flexed uselessly where they gripped the couch on either side of Yeji's hips. Her shoulder blades pressed up against my chest with each thrust, shifting, trying to find purchase that didn't exist.

"OH -" The word came out muffled against Yeji's pussy, the vibration making Yeji gasp and arch. "Can't - move - you're everywhere -"

I squeezed her tits harder. Felt her pussy clench in direct response, a tight flutter that made my cock throb.

"HARDER -" still muffled, still eating Yeji, but the desperation clear. "YES - squeeze them - use me -"

I obliged. Gripped until I knew it had to hurt, until her breath caught and held, until she let out a long shuddering moan that vibrated through Yeji and made her cry out too.

Karina learned Yeji's body quickly - the same careful attention she'd shown with her fingers earlier, now applied with her tongue.

When Yeji's breath caught, Karina went lighter, circling her clit with just the tip of her tongue. When Yeji's hips bucked up seeking more, Karina flattened her tongue and licked in broad strokes. When Yeji's thighs started trembling, Karina sucked her clit directly, creating suction that made Yeji cry out.

Giving back what she'd received - attention, presence, care.

Yeji's control was slipping again - faster this time, her body already sensitized from her earlier orgasm, her defenses already lowered.

Her hips bucked into Karina's face, chasing friction. Her hand gripped Karina's hair almost painfully, holding her in place. Her moans came freely, no attempt to manage volume or maintain composure.

Yeji's face over Karina's arched back - losing herself in pleasure, eyes squeezing shut then flying open, mouth falling open around sounds she couldn't control. All of it visible. All of it mine to witness.

And felt Karina's pussy respond to every moan Yeji made - clenching, fluttering, flooding with fresh wetness.

The connection between them flowing through me, my cock the bridge that carried pleasure back and forth.

"Jimin-ah - Jimin I'm -"

Yeji couldn't finish the warning.

Her second orgasm hit suddenly, almost violently.

[YEJI'S POV - THIRD PERSON]

Yeji came on Karina's tongue with her name on her lips -

"JIMIN!"

Karina's real name, not her persona, not the idol. A recognition of who was giving her this pleasure.

Her body shook, thighs clamping around Karina's head hard enough that she heard Karina's muffled gasp of surprise. Her back arched off the couch, spine curving into a beautiful bow. Her hand in Karina's hair gripped so tight she saw Karina wince - but Karina didn't pull away, didn't stop, just kept her tongue moving through Yeji's orgasm, working her through every wave.

Yeji's pussy clenched and released against Karina's mouth, flooding with wetness that Karina eagerly lapped up. Her whole body trembled - legs, arms, even her fingers shaking where they gripped Karina's hair.

But even through the pleasure, even through the release, part of Yeji was watching - watching Minho work behind Karina, the deliberate rhythm of his thrusts, the way his hands adjusted without thinking, the way his hips shifted the moment Karina's breath changed to find angles that made her moan into Yeji's pussy.

She'd felt this a thousand times, known he was good - impossibly good, attentive in ways that felt almost supernatural. But watching it happen to someone else was different. Seeing the mechanics from outside. The precision and focus. The way he took apart a woman like he was reading sheet music only he could see.

It was beautiful, and it was terrifying.

Because if he could do this to Karina - someone he'd known for hours - what had five years of learning her body made him capable of?

The thought lodged in her chest like something sharp. Something closer to awe than jealousy. And underneath that, a question she didn't want to ask:

What else can he do that I don't know about?

But then Karina's tongue pressed exactly right, and thought dissolved into another wave of pleasure, and Yeji stopped watching and just felt.

[MINHO'S POV - FIRST PERSON]

The visual from my position was devastating - Yeji completely undone, Karina's face buried between her thighs, my cock disappearing into Karina's plush pussy from behind, all three of us connected with pleasure flowing in an unbroken circuit.

And then I felt it: Karina's pussy suddenly seized around my cock with crushing force.

Her fourth orgasm hit without warning, triggered by the pride and satisfaction of making Yeji cum, by the taste of Yeji on her tongue, by my cock still moving steadily inside her.

Smaller than her previous ones - a rolling wave rather than detonation, starting deep in her core and radiating outward. Her inner walls rippled rhythmically, pulsing around my shaft, milking me with gentle insistence.

She moaned against Yeji's pussy - the sound muffled but unmistakable - and I felt the vibration travel through her whole body.

She pulled her mouth away just long enough to gasp out: "I'm cumming - I'm cumming again - I can't stop -"

Then buried her face back between Yeji's thighs, continuing to lick through her own orgasm, giving and receiving simultaneously.

"Oh fuck," I groaned, my hips stuttering, fighting not to cum yet. "Karina - you're -"

I couldn't finish. Just thrust deeper, grinding, feeling her pussy flutter and clench through the aftershocks.

Yeji's eyes opened - hazy and satisfied - and found mine over Karina's arched back. A smile curved her lips, small and knowing and generous.

Both of them had cum, and somehow through all of it we'd stayed connected - but we weren't done.

My stamina was finally, truly flagging - eleven orgasms in one day had my body running on fumes and pure arousal, every muscle trembling with exertion, my cock somehow still hard but my balls aching with the effort of producing anything more.

But the pressure was building again, that familiar tightening at the base of my spine and the heat pooling low in my belly and the desperate need for friction and release. I needed to fuck Karina harder - needed the impact, the force, the primal satisfaction of truly taking what was being offered.

"I can't -" My voice came out wrecked, desperate. "I need - I have to fuck you harder -"

Karina pulled her face away from Yeji's pussy, turning to look at me over her shoulder. Her face was glistening with Yeji's arousal, her lips swollen and wet, her eyes dark and completely surrendered.

"However you need me," she said, and the complete trust in her voice almost undid me right there.

Yeji sat up slowly, her post-orgasmic haze clearing. Her eyes focused on both of us. Then on where we were still joined. Then back to my face.

Something shifted in her expression. Her jaw tightened. Her breath caught. But then her shoulders dropped, and she nodded - once, small, deliberate.

"Get up," Yeji said softly, gesturing to Karina. "On your knees. Let him take you properly."

Karina lifted herself up immediately, eagerly - and I slipped out of her as she moved. The sudden absence hit us both. Her pussy clenched around nothing, a soft whine escaping her throat. My cock twitched in the air, wet and exposed, already aching to be back inside.

She got on her knees, then folded forward until her forehead pressed into the couch cushion. Her arms reached up above her head, fingers gripping the armrest for stability. Her back arched deeply, presenting her ass high in the air, the curve of her spine creating that perfect pyramid shape.

The position was obscene and submissive and completely vulnerable.

And her ass.

I'd been gripping it all night but now I could finally see it properly - two perfect globes rising toward me like an offering, round and firm and impossibly full. Shadows pooled in the sheen of sweat across each curve, in the dimples at the base of her spine, while her flesh trembled with anticipation. High and tight despite its abundance. An apple-bottom that belonged in a museum, in a temple, in my hands.

My palms found her cheeks before I could think. Fingers sinking into softness that yielded and bounced back, flesh spilling between my spread fingers. I squeezed. Hard. Watched the skin dimple white under the pressure, then flush pink when I released.

"Mmnh -" Karina's hips pushed back into my grip. Wanting more.

Her pussy was on full display from this angle - swollen and flushed dark pink, lips parted and glistening, inner walls still visibly pulsing with aftershocks from her fourth orgasm. The ring of wetness from earlier had spread down her inner thighs, creating shining trails in the candlelight.

I stood, my legs shaking slightly, and positioned myself behind and above her.

I rose to stand above her, feet planted on either side of her body, couch cushions dimpling under my weight. The squat position put my cock at a nearly vertical angle - gravity would do half the work. My thighs screamed in protest, already burned from the folded missionary, now asked to hold balance and leg strength I wasn't sure I still had.

But the angle. Fuck, the angle - would let me use gravity and my full body weight. Would let me drop into her like a hammer.

This much effort to give pleasure. This much strain to worship. Every thrust said I adore you. Every thrust said I will be your ending. Devotion and demolition wearing the same face, and she was arching into both.

I leaned forward, one hand bracing on the couch back - wood warm and slick with humidity - the other pressing down on Karina's head, holding her in place. My palm cupped the back of her skull, fingers threading into sweat-damp hair. Her pulse racing against my fingertips.

Like a dancer before the drop. Coiled. Ready to explode. Every muscle fiber engaged, every nerve singing with anticipation.

Yeji moved to kneel beside us, one hand finding Karina's lower back, the other reaching for my ass. Staying connected. Participating. Witnessing.

"Do it," Yeji said, and her voice was steady despite the weight of what she was permitting. "Give her everything."

The room had become a furnace. Sweat ran freely down all three of us, pooling in the hollows of collarbones, dripping from chins, making skin slide against skin. The candles guttered in the thick air, flames struggling, wax running in rivers. The heat pressed in from all sides - external and internal, temperature and intensity, the culmination of everything that had been building.

I lined up, the tip of my cock pressing against Karina's entrance from above, and then -

I dropped my weight.

The force of entry was unlike anything I'd given her before.

My full body weight behind the thrust, gravity assisting, the angle creating depth that felt impossible. I slammed into her so hard the impact echoed - flesh on flesh, a wet, obscene slap that was immediately followed by Karina's scream.

"AAAHHH - "

Muffled by the couch cushion pressing against her face but still loud enough to echo off the villa walls, probably audible from outside if anyone was walking by.

Loud enough to wake Hallasan, I thought dimly, some detached part of my brain still capable of observation. The entire mountain is going to file a noise complaint.

Sensation exploding into overwhelm, hot and endless.

Her whole body pressed down into the couch from the force, cushions compressing beneath her, springs creaking in protest. Her ass rippled from the impact - flesh jiggling and bouncing, the physics of that much force meeting that much softness creating visual poetry.

I pulled back - and brought my palm down on her right cheek.

CRACK.

The sound sharp enough to cut through the wet slap of penetration. Her flesh compressed under the impact, then bounced back, a handprint blooming pink against tan skin. The ripple traveled through both cheeks, hypnotic, devastating.

"YES -" Karina's cry was immediate, desperate, encouraging. Her back arched harder. "Again -"

So I slammed in a second time. Then a third.

***

Zero time to adjust, no gentleness, no care - finally, truly taking.

I lost myself in the rhythm immediately - pure rutting, animal and feral and desperate, chasing something primal that lived in the hindbrain, something beyond thought or control.

My legs worked like pistons, bending and straightening, lowering and rising, each movement driving my cock into Karina's pussy with devastating force. The lactic acid built in my quadriceps, my hamstrings, my calves, a deep burn that I pushed through because stopping wasn't an option. Sweat ran down my chest in rivers, dripped from my chin onto her arched back, pooled in the dimples above her ass. I used my full body weight behind each thrust, the hand on her head pressing down to keep her in place, her skull warm and damp against my palm. The other hand released her hip and found her ass instead - gripping a full handful of that perfect flesh, fingers sinking deep, using her cheek as leverage to pull her back onto each stroke.

"FUCK - grab me harder -" Karina gasped into the cushion. "Use me -"

I obliged. Squeezed until I felt my fingers might leave permanent impressions. Watched the flesh bulge around my grip, impossibly soft, impossibly abundant. Tomorrow she'd have bruises shaped like my hand on her ass. Evidence. Proof.

Then my hands slid forward to her waist.

The difference was immediate. Her waist was soft - where Yeji was all muscle, Karina was giving flesh that compressed and molded around my fingers like warm bread dough. My thumbs found the dimples above her hips, my fingers wrapping around to her stomach where the softness multiplied, yielding and reshaping as I gripped. I could feel her breathing against my palms, her belly expanding and contracting with each desperate inhale.

"Mmh -" Karina's hips rolled back into me, a small desperate circle. Her shoulder blades shifted against the cushion as she tried to push herself further onto my cock. "Hold me tighter -"

I pulled her back onto each thrust using her waist as leverage, watching the flesh compress and bounce, watching the ripple travel through her whole torso.

"Fuck, you feel good," I groaned, and the words came out guttural, barely human. "So fucking soft."

"Don't stop," Karina gasped into the cushion, a plea and warning dissolved into one. "Don't ever stop."

The sounds filled the room, overwhelming even the music. Skin meeting skin in wet obscene slaps. Her pussy impossibly wet, the sounds of penetration graphic and visceral. Karina's cries muffled by the cushion but punching out with each thrust - staccato, helpless, rhythmic as a heartbeat. My grunts animalistic and raw. The couch creaking, springs protesting, wood frame groaning. The cacophony building, layering, becoming its own weather system.

Karina's experience unfolded across her body in real time, the progression visible.

The first few thrusts brought shock, adjustment, her hands clawing at the armrest while her back arched impossibly deeper, her pussy clenching defensively before slowly opening up to accommodate the assault. Then pleasure building impossibly fast, her body finding the rhythm, meeting my thrusts by pushing back, sounds shifting from surprise to desperate need. Her pussy flooded with wetness, making each thrust easier, deeper, louder.

After that came transcendence. She became pure sensation, her mind shutting off, conscious thought dissolving. Just existing as a body being fucked, being filled, being taken. Her hands stopped clawing and went limp.

"Ah - ah - AH - AH - AHHH -"

The sounds ascending, getting louder, losing the gaps between them until it became one continuous note of pleasure-pain-pleasure.

My palm found her ass again - once, twice, rapid-fire impacts that made her flesh bounce and redden, handprints overlapping into one continuous bloom of pink. Each spank punctuated a thrust. Each thrust drove a cry from her throat.

"YES - spank me - harder - don't stop -" The words dissolving, fragmenting. "Break me break me break -"

I kept some distant count in my head, thirty, forty, the numbers dissolving into pure rhythm as Karina lifted her head from between Yeji's thighs just long enough to cry out, "HARDER - fuck me harder - break me -" before Yeji's hand pushed her back down.

"Spank her," Yeji commanded, her voice tight with vicarious arousal. "She's asking for it."

My palm came down on Karina's left cheek this time - CRACK  - matching the handprint already blooming on her right. The impact sent shockwaves through her flesh, both cheeks jiggling in opposing rhythms, and Karina keened into the cushion, a high animal sound that made Yeji's breath catch audibly.

"More -" Karina's voice was wrecked, muffled, desperate. "Please -"

Yeji's hand tightened on my ass, nails biting in. I felt her thighs press together. Watching me mark Karina was doing something to her.

My thighs burned with exertion, sweat running down my chest and back, as the count reached fifty and stopped mattering entirely.

[KARINA - THIRD PERSON]

Karina's fifth orgasm hit somewhere in the blur - or maybe still the fourth, or the beginning of sixth, the edges between them dissolving as wave crested before the last had fully receded, her pussy starting to flutter wildly and her back arching even more and her hands clutching the armrest white-knuckled.

Then it detonated.

Shorter than her previous ones but intense - a sharp, violent peak that made her whole body seize, her pussy clamping down on his cock mid-thrust, stopping his movement completely for two full seconds while her inner walls spasmed and milked him desperately.

"FUCK - OH GOD - FUCK -"

The words punched out of her, muffled by the cushion but still audible, still raw, the break in her voice carrying the sob underneath. Her pussy milked him hard, rhythmic pulses that tried to pull him deeper, tried to keep him inside, tried to extract what she'd been promised.

But he didn't stop.

He forced his hips to keep moving through her orgasm, extending it, drawing it out, making her ride every aftershock while he chased his own release.

"Can't - I can't - too much -"

Her hands had stopped their elegant positioning and deliberate gripping, hanging limp now and trembling with palms open against the armrest like surrender. The composed face she wore in every photoshoot and interview and red carpet had dissolved into something raw and animal, mascara tracking down temples that had never been this exposed, this visible.

"Please - please - please -"

She was just Jimin now, bare and creature, ground zero of a detonation she'd begged for.

"You're ruining me -"

Before she'd fully come down from the fifth, the sixth started building - a continuation rather than a separate peak, a rolling wave that never fully receded.

" - fucking ruining me -"

Barely coming down before the pressure built again, her pussy continuing to flutter and clench, her body trapped in a loop of continuous pleasure that had no edges, no beginning, no end.

"Don't stop - don't ever stop -"

She was sobbing into the cushion from overwhelm, from pleasure too intense to process, hands alternating between clawing and going limp.

"I'll die if you stop -"

And then words dissolved entirely into sound:

"Ah - ah - nngh - AH -"

Whimpers and gasps and sobs mixing together into something that sounded like drowning - and she was drowning, the tide of pleasure pulling her under again and again, no surface to break toward, no air to find, just the relentless current of him inside her.

It was exactly what she'd needed.

[MINHO - FIRST PERSON]

The pressure at the base of my spine reached critical mass.

My balls drew up tight against my body, so tight it was almost painful. Heat flooded through my lower belly, radiating outward. My cock swelled even thicker inside Karina's pussy, the head going impossibly sensitive.

"I'm gonna -" The words came out strangled, desperate. "I can't hold it - I can't -"

Yeji's eyes moved between us - Karina's wrecked surrender, my desperate grip on control. Something shifted in her expression. The same look she'd had when Karina made her cum earlier, when she'd felt genuinely cared for instead of competed with.

"Cum inside her," Yeji said, and her voice was firm, clear, certain.

I froze mid-thrust, needing to be absolutely sure. "Are you sure - ?"

"Yes." Yeji's hand on my ass pressed me forward, encouraging, permitting. "She earned it. Fill her up. I want to see it."

Karina's head lifted from the cushion, her voice wrecked but urgent. "Please - give it to me - I want to feel you -"

Her hips pushed back against me desperately. "Fill me up. Make me feel whole again. Please."

Yeji trusted me enough to give this. To watch me fill another woman. To believe our bond could survive it.

And I understood why she was giving it now, to Karina specifically. The way Karina had made Yeji cum earlier - genuinely, attentively, wanting Yeji's pleasure for its own sake. The way she'd asked can I take care of you too even while I was still inside her. It was generosity meeting generosity, a gift returned.

But Yeji didn't know what I'd already done this morning. Didn't know about the pool. About Yuna's undoing. About Ryujin shaking in the morning sun.

The guilt flared - sharp and sudden - lodged in my spine like shrapnel.

But I couldn't stop. Didn't want to stop. Knowing what I was capable of. Choosing to use it anyway. The pressure was too great, the need too overwhelming, and Karina was pushing back against me, keening, begging wordlessly for what she'd been promised.

I would carry this. The awareness. The weight of what I was capable of. What I'd done. What I was doing.

But not now. Now there was only this.

I slammed deep one final time, the deepest I'd been all night, my cock hitting her cervix and grinding against it, pelvis flush against her ass, every inch buried in her plush heat. The countdown reached zero. And then I erupted, the eleventh orgasm of the day tearing through me like a chain reaction I couldn't stop even if I wanted to.

The first pulse was massive and flooding, my cock swelling and then releasing as cum pumped directly against her cervix so deep there was nowhere for it to go but into her womb - "Nngh -" - relief and pleasure and possession all mixing together until sensation overwhelmed thought.

The second came almost as strong, another thick rope flooding her insides and adding to the first, warmth spreading through her core.

"Oh - oh God -" Karina gasped, feeling it. "I can feel -"

The third pulse cut off her sentence - "AH -"

Her cry punching out as her pussy clenching in response, and then the rhythm took over, pulse after pulse after pulse, my cock throbbing steadily as her inner walls rippled around me, milking more out with each contraction. I lost count somewhere in the middle, the numbered sequence dissolving into pure continuous release, my body pouring everything into her while she whimpered and clenched and took it all.

"Yes - yes - more - please -"

The words fragmenting between pulses, drawn out of her involuntary and rhythmic, until the intensity finally began to ebb, the last spurts smaller now, my body giving everything it had left, every drop given, flooding her, filling her, marking her from the inside.

Karina felt the warmth spreading through her, felt it hit her cervix, felt it pool and expand through her core, filling spaces that had been empty for too long. So deep. So warm. So much.

"Oh God -" Her voice came out wrecked, awed, almost reverent. "I can feel it - I can feel all of it -"

Her sixth orgasm detonated in response to the sensation.

The feeling of being filled triggered something primal in her - her pussy clamped down like a vice, milking every last drop from my pulsing cock. Her whole body seized, back arching impossibly.

"AHHHHH -"

The sound that tore from her throat wasn't a word. It was pure release made audible - raw and broken and beautiful, the kind of sound that came from somewhere below language.

Yeji's breath caught sharply beside us - "Oh -" - involuntary, affected, the witness becoming participant through sound alone.

Both of us cumming together, locked in place, connected as deeply as two people could be.

Yeji's hand on my ass felt every clench with each pulse - felt my muscles contracting, felt the physical proof of my orgasm. Her other hand on Karina's back felt the tremors running through her, felt her shaking apart.

Her eyes were riveted to where where Karina and I were joined, watching for the moment when it would start to leak out, needing to see the visual proof of what she'd permitted.

As my cock gave its final pulse and began to soften, I felt Karina's muscles flutter around me - her body trying to keep what gravity and biology wouldn't allow. Our mixed release welled at her entrance, warm and abundant where I still stretched her, then spilled over in thick lazy streams. It caught candlelight as it ran down her swollen lips, traced the tender inside of her thighs, dripped onto silk cushions in steady rhythm. Evidence made visible. The goddess unmade, and filled, and leaking proof of both.

Yeji's breath caught, sharp and almost pained, at the visual confirmation that I had actually cum inside someone else. When I managed to turn my head to look at her, I didn't see jealousy or regret. Just satisfaction, pride, and arousal so intense her pupils were blown wide. She'd orchestrated this, made this happen. And I had nothing left to give.

My legs gave out - simply refused to hold the squat position another second - and I collapsed forward onto Karina's back with my full weight pressing her flat into the couch, both of us gasping for air like we'd surfaced from drowning, both trembling uncontrollably, both collapsed and completely spent.

The trembling was specific: my quadriceps twitching in random spasms, my forearms shaking where they braced against the cushion, my core muscles fluttering from sustained effort. My heart pounded against her back, and I could feel hers answering through her ribcage - two rhythms slowly, slowly beginning to sync and slow.

The heat began to dissipate. The furnace cooling in stages - first the air around us, then our skin, then deeper. Sweat turned cold on my back, on my thighs, made us both shiver despite the warmth still radiating from where we were joined. The air no longer pressed in but settled, softened, became breathable again. I could smell us - the aftermath, salt and sex and something almost metallic, the scent of bodies pushed past every limit.

My cock was still inside her - softening now but the angle and her continued pulsing keeping me from slipping out immediately. I could feel her heartbeat through her pussy, a gentle throb around my sensitive flesh.

The room remembered how to be quiet, slowly and in stages - the ringing in my ears fading to reveal smaller sounds: our breathing ragged and desperate, the creak of the couch settling, a candle guttering, the distant bass of the R&B still playing patient and waiting for us to return to it.

Karina was limp beneath me, face still pressed into the cushion, breathing in desperate gasps that slowly lengthened toward normal. I felt tears on her cheeks when I shifted slightly, felt the way her whole body shook with aftershocks and emotional release and the overwhelming sensation of having been truly, completely satisfied.

"Stay -" she whispered, her voice barely audible and cracked and raw. "Stay inside me. Just a little longer."

Yeji moved closer with her hands stroking both our backs simultaneously - my spine, Karina's shoulder blades, long soothing strokes that grounded us both.

"There you are," Yeji whispered softly. "Both of you. There you are."

I managed to lift my head enough to find her eyes. She was smiling - small and genuine and full of complex emotions I didn't have the capacity to parse right now.

"Thank you," I whispered.

"Thank you," she corrected gently. "Both of you."

We stayed like that for a long moment - tangle of limbs, sweat-slicked skin sticking together, cum still leaking slowly from Karina's pussy around my softening cock, all three of us connected and catching our breath.

The candles had burned down to stubs with wax pooled in cold rivers at their bases, flames guttered and weak, and through the gauzy curtains stars were still visible - infinite and witnessing and indifferent to the small human dramas playing out beneath them.

The room had cooled, the heat spent, the destruction complete. Fallout settling over all three of us like ash.

I felt Yeji's hand tighten on my back - possessive, grounding, a question disguised as touch.

Come back to me.

I would.

I always would.

But first there was this moment. This stillness. This breath between destruction and whatever came next.

Armageddon. The end and a new start.

We'd burned our world and watched it happen, all three of us choosing the fire over safety. And in the quiet after, the first stirring of what might be built from the ashes.

***

Eventually I had to move. I was too heavy to keep crushing Karina like this.

I pushed myself up slowly, carefully, and finally slipped out of her.

All three of us watched as my cock emerged, soft and glistening with the mixture of her arousal and my cum, followed immediately by a thick flow of white leaking from her gaping pussy.

I pulled out slowly. Watched a strand of our mixed fluids bridge the gap between us, catching candlelight before breaking. Her pussy still clenching on air, trying to keep what was already gone.

Karina's entrance stayed open for a few seconds - a perfect circle of stretched pink flesh, glistening and trembling, trying to close around what was no longer there. Our mixed warmth continued to spill in lazy pulses, each one catching light before disappearing into silk. Evidence of devotion made visible. She looked unmade. She looked worshipped. Same thing, maybe.

Karina slowly uncurled from her position, rolling onto her side, then her back, staring up at the ceiling with an expression of complete wonder. Her chest heaved with each breath, those massive breasts rising and falling in slow desperate rhythm, sweat pooling in the hollow between them and running down the dramatic slope of her ribcage toward her impossibly long midriff. Her broad shoulders pressed into the cushion, still trembling with aftershocks. The X of her frame mapped in candlelight and sweat: wide shoulders, long waist, flared hips, every inhale making her stomach concave, every exhale letting it soften. A strand of damp hair clung to her neck. Her pulse fluttered visibly in the hollow of her throat.

"I can't..." she started, then stopped. Her voice came out wrecked, hoarse from screaming, from sounds she hadn't known her body could make. She tried again. "I've never..."

She couldn't finish. There were no words for what had just happened.

Yeji lay down beside her, curling into her side, one arm draping across Karina's stomach, feeling it rise and fall beneath her forearm, the muscles still twitching involuntarily. Possessive and tender simultaneously.

I collapsed on Karina's other side, my hand finding her hand, fingers threading together. Her grip was weak, boneless, but she held on.

All three of us staring at the ceiling, breathing slowly returning to normal, the weight of what had just transpired settling over us like a blanket.

***

The silence stretched between us - full, heavy with aftermath.

Karina's hand found mine, fingers threading together loosely. Her other hand reached for Yeji, completing some circuit none of us had consciously designed.

I could feel all three of us in the aftermath - three bodies cooling against the couch with sweat turning cold on skin, three heartbeats slowing in my awareness and finding steadier rhythms, three people trying to process what we'd just done to each other and what it meant and what came next.

My body was empty and wrung out after eleven orgasms in one day, a goddess unmade beneath me, permission given and received and honored - and still my chest was tight.

The awareness I'd carried into the folded missionary was crystallizing into something I couldn't ignore: What am I capable of?

The question lodged in my chest like a splinter. Yuna squirting uncontrollably at the pool. Ryujin's dominance shattered in the morning sun. Karina sobbing into the cushion from too much, from being read so completely her body couldn't process the pleasure.

I'd thought it was chemistry and compatibility and being attentive, but it was more than that - this thing I did without thinking, finding every nerve and every angle and every rhythm that would build pressure faster than they could release it, reading bodies like sheet music only I could see, knowing which note would make them gasp and which chord would make them shake and which sustained passage would push them past what they thought they could hold.

I'd used it deliberately tonight with full awareness, noting Karina come apart under systematic attention, cataloguing exactly what each adjustment did to her. The power of that sat heavy against my sternum, a pressure that had nothing to do with exertion.

Awareness without remorse - that would come later. For now, only this crystalline understanding of what I could do.

Beside me, Yeji stirred.

Her hand left Karina's and found my chest instead - palm flat over my heart, feeling the rhythm slowly steadying. The touch was light but certain. A question. A claim. A pull that had nothing to do with words.

Come back to me.

And I did. The way I always did. The way I always would.

My body knew what it needed before my mind caught up - before guilt or reckoning or any weight that would come later.

Just her.

I shifted on the couch, moving without conscious decision, and Yeji responded instantly - sitting up, making space, her eyes finding mine in the low candlelight. The flames had burned down to almost nothing now, wax pooled cold at their bases, but enough light remained to see her face. To see the way she was looking at me.

The same way she'd looked at me on the beach at sunset. The same way she'd looked at me in that practice room five years ago, tear-stained and desperate and somehow already hoping I would stay.

And I did.

"Minho," she said softly, just my name but carrying everything: every moment we'd shared, every wall she'd let down, every time she'd chosen me when she could have chosen anyone.

The room fell away. Karina fell away. The weight and the guilt and the awareness of what I was capable of - all of it receded like the tide pulling back from the shore, leaving only this. Only her. Only us.

I moved toward her and she met me halfway, closing the distance that had never really been distance at all.

She climbed into my lap as I sat back against the couch arm, her thighs folding around my waist, arms wrapping around my neck. Face to face. Chest to chest. Her heartbeat finding mine through the press of skin.

And somewhere in that warmth - in the specific weight of her thighs around my waist, the particular way her pulse slowed against my chest, the exact temperature of her breath on my collarbone - a word I'd never let myself think before:

Mine.

She'd said it a thousand times, possessive and fierce, claiming me with a single syllable whenever we were tangled together in the dark. I'd never said it back, never let myself feel it - because how could I claim Hwang Yeji, the leader, the idol, the girl who'd become everything I'd failed to become? I was the trainee who quit, the one who couldn't handle the pressure, who walked away, who forfeited his place in her world. She'd risen to the top of an industry I'd fled from, and every achievement, every stage, every screaming crowd was proof of the distance between us - proof that I was lucky to have any access to her at all, let alone the right to call her mine.

But here, now, with her arms around my neck and her heart beating steady against mine - none of it mattered.

I was hers - I had always been hers - and she was mine.

She settled deeper into my lap and I felt her exhale against my chest, felt it in the way her shoulders dropped, in the softening of her thighs around my waist. Arrival.

Her legs locked behind my back and my arms wrapped around her - as close as two people could be while still being two people.

We'd never done this before, but it felt like coming home.

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Author's Note

This chapter basically became my attempt to write Oppenheimer as a threesome. Yes, really. No, I will not be taking questions (jk - sends your asks my way!)

The title's an aespa reference (obviously), but "What am I capable of?" is the actual spine here. Minho's been accumulating awareness all day and this is where the weight finally lands.

Prose choices: staccato for destruction, run-on sentences for surrender. Karina's ego-death sections have no periods because overwhelming pleasure has no edges. (I will die on this hill.)

The ending is basically La La Land's audition scene - specifically the moment the lights dim and everything else fades away. I chose 'Audition/The Fools Who Dream' because it's the anthem of embracing the messiness of passion ("Here's to the hearts that ache/Here's to the mess we make") over the safety of perfection. For Yeji, the ultimate perfectionist, the room dissolving isn't just cinematic, it's her finally dropping the Leader mask to exist in that raw, unpolished zero-point where only the connection matters.

'Fools Who Dream' works for both of them, and that's not an accident. Minho is the fool who dreams of deserving her - the trainee who quit, who walked away, who's spent five years believing he forfeited any right to claim her. And Yeji is the fool who dreams of permanence - afraid to hope, afraid to want, afraid to reach for something that could break her if she names it. She lost him once when he quit training. She's been bracing for him to leave again ever since. The audition scene is about proving you're worthy of your dream by showing you believe in it. They're both finally allowing themselves to want the same impossible thing.

The mine moment wrecked me to write. Yeji's claimed him for years. He never said it back. Not because he didn't feel it, but because he never believed he was allowed to. He was the trainee who quit, after all. But in the lotus position, after everything, the math stops mattering.

Then her grin widened.

"Actually, no - wait. Let me try again." She cleared her throat dramatically. "I solemnly swear... you two are up to no good." She gestured between them with the still-buzzing vibrator like she'd just activated the Marauder's Map and discovered the most scandalous dot configuration possible. "Yeah. That's better. Now it's fucking awkward."

Ryujin's eyes traveled slowly from their panicked faces to where they were still connected - Minho's cock buried in Yuna, still visibly pulsing with aftershocks - to the white fluid already leaking down Yuna's thigh in thick rivulets.

"So," she said slowly, her shock melting into something sharper. "This is what Yeji's been hiding."

She took a step closer, and Yuna flinched.

"Okay, wow." Ryujin's laugh had an edge now. "Innocent little maknae getting railed by Yeji-unnie's secret boyfriend." She pointed at Yuna with the still-buzzing vibrator. "Couldn't keep your hands off the one guy she actually gave a shit about?"

"He's not - we're not - " Yuna's voice cracked. "Okay but like, it's not - it's not like that!"

"Isn't it?" Ryujin cocked her head, studying Minho with new understanding. "Yeji's never been the type to fall for anyone. Especially not a regular guy." She glanced at Minho. "No offense."

"None taken," he managed weakly.

"But she's got actors and idols throwing themselves at her," Ryujin continued, her voice taking on a strange quality - like she was working through a puzzle out loud. "Why would she keep you around for years unless you were special? Unless you were her..." She trailed off, eyes widening slightly. "Her private stress relief. Her secret weapon."

She pushed off the doorframe, advancing into the shower cubicle. "And here you are, little maknae, stealing him right out from under her nose."

"I didn't steal him, okay?!" Yuna's arms crossed tighter over her chest - inadvertently pushing her small breasts together, the soft flesh creating a modest line of cleavage even as she tried to cover herself. Her pale pink nipples peeked between her forearms, still hard from arousal and exposure. The defensive posture only made her look more vulnerable, more naked. "Like, I can want things! It's not a crime to - to - I mean, you don't even know what happened!"

"Oh, I think the evidence speaks for itself, you little slut." Ryujin's gaze dropped pointedly to where cum was visibly dripping from Yuna's pussy. "You're literally leaking his cum onto the deck right now, but sure, you're totally innocent."

Yuna's face flushed crimson. "Oh, I'm the slut? You literally fucked five guys last night! Five! And you still have that - that thing inside you!"

The mention of the Yonsei guys made Ryujin's smirk falter for just a second before snapping back into place. "At least I own what I am."

She turned to Minho, who'd been otherwise silent through the entire exchange, and something complicated flickered across her face. "And you. How could you do this to Yeji?"

The guilt on Minho's face was immediate and devastating.

"She trusts you," Ryujin continued, and beneath the swagger was something that sounded almost hurt. "She's possessive of you. She never shares you. Do you know what she's going to do when she finds out you've been balls-deep in the maknae?"

Minho's face went pale. He looked genuinely terrified.

"You wouldn't," Yuna whispered.

"Wouldn't I?" Ryujin smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Yeji and I tell each other everything. Well - " She amended, her eyes dropping to Minho's cock, still semi-hard and glistening. "Almost everything, apparently."

The argument continued, but biology didn't care about drama. Gravity won. Minho's cock, no longer supported by Yuna's body, began to slip. Slowly, inevitably, it slid out of Yuna's pussy with a wet, obscene sound - like uncorking a champagne bottle, but infinitely more vulgar.

It flopped free, and Ryujin's breath caught.

She'd seen a lot of cocks in her life. A lot. But Minho's was... impressive. Semi-erect and coated in fluids, it was nearly as thick as The Beast, with prominent veins and a mushroom head that looked designed for maximum damage.

The shock of seeing it - really seeing it up close - made her lose focus. Her internal muscles relaxed.

THUD.

The Beast fell from her pussy and hit the deck with a heavy, wet slap - plastic on wood, indecently loud in the shocked silence. It lay there between them, defeated, obsolete.

All three of them stared at it like mourners at a funeral.

Somewhere in the distance, a seagull cawed, possibly in judgment.

Then Ryujin's eyes snapped back to Minho's cock, and the pieces fell into place.

Oh.

Wait. Yeji wasn't dating him. She was keeping him. This wasn't a boyfriend - this was her private toy. Her personal stress relief. Her secret weapon. The thing she'd hidden from Ryujin for years.

Not a relationship. A resource.

The competitiveness that had driven Ryujin to the top of the industry flared to life, but underneath it was something sharper.

Hurt.

Yeji shared everything with her. Everything. They'd fucked the same guys, compared notes, even tag-teamed a few particularly impressive specimens. They were supposed to be partners in chaos, ride-or-die through the insanity of this industry - the secrets, the chaos, and the ugly parts that nobody else understood.

But not this one. Yeji had kept this one secret.

We share everything. Why not him?

The answer settled in her chest like a stone. Because Minho wasn't shared property. He was Yeji's. Only Yeji's. Which meant Yeji had drawn a line between them - between partners who'd bled together - for the first time ever.

But not this one. Yeji had kept this one secret.

Which meant Yeji was changing.

Which meant Ryujin was being left behind.

"Well," Ryujin said softly, and something reckless sparked in her chest. "We'll see about that."

[MINHO'S POV - FIRST PERSON]

I watched Ryujin's expression shift from shock to calculation to something darker - hunger mixed with competitive fire and something else I couldn't quite name.

Something cold dropped through my gut.

Stay away from Ryujin, Yeji had warned me. She's dangerous.

I'd never fully understood what she meant. Now, watching Ryujin advance toward me with that predatory look in her eyes, I got it. This woman was a force of nature. A category-five hurricane with a grudge.

And I was directly in her path.

"I should go," I said, my voice coming out weaker than I'd intended. "I should get dressed and - "

"Oh no you don't." Ryujin's voice was soft. Dangerous.

She closed the distance in three deliberate steps, each one a statement of intent. The Beast lay forgotten behind her - old weapon discarded for the real challenge. Her eyes were locked on my cock, which - traitorously - was starting to harden again under her scrutiny.

Up close, Ryujin was overwhelming. Her body was built like a weapon - all compact muscle and power. Her thighs were thick and solid, the kind that could crush a man's skull. Her stomach was flat and strong, her shoulders broad. Her tits weren't large, but they were perfect - soft B-cups that contrasted with the rest of her powerful frame.

And her pussy - god, her pussy. Completely unshaved, a wild tangle of dark hair surrounding swollen, meaty lips that looked well-used and ready for more. I could see moisture glistening in her folds, see the slight gape from her earlier session with the toy.

She wedged herself between me and Yuna, physically pushing the younger girl aside with her hip. Before I could react, her hand wrapped around my cock.

Her grip was like a pressure point strike - tight, precise, testing if I was a weapon worth keeping or scrap metal to be discarded. It was painful, almost. But somehow arousing in a way that confused and terrified me.

My cock, the fucking traitor of the day, decided this was exactly what it wanted.

"Impressive," she murmured, giving an experimental stroke. My cock, slick with Yuna's juices and my own cum, slid easily through her fist. "Almost as big as The Beast. But warmer." She squeezed, and I winced. "Alive."

She looked me in the eye, and her gaze was intense. Unblinking. "So you're the bad boy. Getting seduced by our little maknae when you've got Yeji waiting for you."

"I didn't - she just - " I stammered.

"He didn't seduce me!" Yuna protested from behind Ryujin, her arms still folded defensively across her chest. "I wanted him! It was my choice!"

"Did anyone ask you?" Ryujin said without looking at her. Her attention was entirely focused on me, on my cock, which was now fully hard despite - or maybe because of - her brutal grip.

"You pumped it all into her already?" Ryujin asked, glancing over her shoulder at Yuna's pussy, which was still leaking cum. "Or do you have more in that tank?"

"I think I'm done," I said quickly. "I should really go back to the villa - "

Her grip tightened even more, making me gasp. My cock started turning purple from the pressure. Her eyes narrowed with that terrifying oh no you don't look.

"I don't care if you're empty." Her voice dropped lower. "Yeji's been keeping secrets. Sharing guys with me since debut, but not this one? Nah." Something flickered across her face - hurt masked by bravado. "I'm not missing out just because she decided to get weird and possessive."

She stroked harder, her grip punishing. "If I have to resurrect this thing from the dead like Jesus, I will." Her grin was sharp, unhinged. "Fuck that - maybe I'll throw out my whole toy collection and just make silicone molds of your cock instead. Patent it. Sell it. Retire rich."

Despite everything - the fear, the exhaustion, the sheer absurdity of the situation - my body responded. Blood rushed to my cock, swelling it to full size in her hand.

Ryujin's eyes lit up. "There we go. I knew you had more in you."

She looked at Yuna's pussy again, taking in the gaping, cum-dripping mess. "Looks like he fucked you good, maknae. Must have felt nice, getting stretched out by something this big."

"It was amazing," Yuna shot back, but her voice was weak. "Like, literally better than any toy. Way better."

"We'll see about that," Ryujin said.

Then she grabbed my shoulders and pushed. I wasn't ready for how strong she was. My knees buckled, and I went down, landing hard on the wet deck. Suddenly I was eye-level with her crotch, her bush tickling my nose.

"You and Yuna ruined my orgasm," she said, spreading her legs wider. Her voice was light, almost playful, but there was an edge beneath it. "I was this close. You owe me."

"Ryujin-unnie, you can't just - " Yuna tried to object.

"Shh. Adults are talking." Ryujin didn't even look at her.

She reached down and spread her thick outer lips with her fingers, revealing the pink, glistening flesh inside. Her inner lips were swollen and prominent, her clit a hard little nub at the apex of her slit.

Before I could respond - before I could even think - her hand shot to the back of my head and forced my face into her crotch. No warning. No negotiation.

I opened my mouth and tasted her.

Ryujin was different from Yuna - different from Yeji too. Where Yuna was sweet and slick, Ryujin was salty, musky, intense. Her taste coated my tongue immediately, thick and rich. Her pussy felt rougher against my lips, the texture almost aggressive - proof of years of aggressive masturbation and rough fucking.

I licked from bottom to top, my tongue sliding through her folds. She groaned, her hips bucking forward.

"That's it," she hissed. She grabbed the bullet vibrator she'd been holding and pressed it against her clit. The buzzing intensified. "Use that tongue. Show me what you did for her."

I worked her opening with my tongue while she buzzed her clit, and within seconds she was dripping. Her juices were thicker than Yuna's, coating my chin and lips. I could feel her thighs pressing against my head - she had a thigh gap, but her legs were so muscular they practically touched anyway.

"Did he do this for you, Yuna?" Ryujin asked, looking over at the younger girl. Her voice was breathless but triumphant. "Did he eat you out like a good boy?"

I would've responded, but my mouth was otherwise occupied. And also, she'd technically asked Yuna, not me. And also, I was currently being waterboarded by pussy, so verbal communication wasn't exactly on the table.

Yuna bit her lip, watching like a student witnessing a master's technique - equal parts jealousy and fascination, unable to look away even as something inside her catalogued every move, every angle, every ruthless adjustment of leverage. Her hands balled into fists at her sides. "Yeah," she muttered. "He did."

"Bet I taste better though," Ryujin taunted.

"You - " Yuna's voice was tight. "You're so ANNOYING!"

But she didn't look away.

Ryujin ground her pussy harder against my face, nearly suffocating me. "That's because I'm winning, maknae."

I licked and sucked for what felt like forever, my jaw aching, until finally she was soaked.

"Enough," she announced suddenly.

She pulled back, hauling me to my feet by my hair. Then she shoved me backward - hard. I stumbled out of the shower stall and landed flat on my back on the wooden deck, the sun beating down on my naked body.

The heat was immediate, overwhelming. Yuna stood at the edge of the shower stall, a witness to something that felt less like sex and more like a challenge. A demonstration. Ryujin proving something with her body that words couldn't capture.

Ryujin straddled me immediately, her thighs caging my hips. The sun beat down on both of us, turning sweat to shimmer. She grabbed my cock - still slick with Yuna's juices and my saliva - and positioned it at her entrance. The heat between us was suffocating.

"Thanks for the warm-up, maknae." Ryujin's grin was sharp. "Now sit your ass down and take notes. This is how you fuck when you're not worried about being gentle."

"You're such a BITCH!" Yuna yelled, spinning on her heel to face away in dramatic protest - tossing her wet hair over her shoulder with such force that it whipped directly into her own face. She sputtered, shoving the soaked strands aside, but there was nowhere to actually storm off to. She just stood there, back turned, dripping and fuming like a sulking statue - which was ironic, because with water streaming down that endless spine and over her gravity-defying ass, she looked like she was shooting the dramatic rain scene in some melodramatic K-drama, except the only thing tragic here was her tantrum.

Ryujin just laughed and sank down.

Her pussy, already loosened by The Beast, swallowed my cock easily. But god, the sensation. She wasn't as tight as Yeji or Yuna, but she made up for it with texture. Her walls had ridges and bumps that gripped my shaft like a high-end sex toy, massaging every inch as she took me deeper.

"Fuck," I groaned.

"Real beats silicone every time," Ryujin breathed, her eyes rolling back. She bottomed out, her ass pressing against my thighs, and just stayed there for a moment, savoring the fullness. "No wonder Yeji's been hoarding you."

The mention of Yeji's name made my cock twitch inside her. Guilt and arousal tangled together in my gut.

Ryujin felt it and laughed, though there was an edge to it. "She's gonna kill you, you know. Both of you."

Then she started to ride.

It was brutal. Powerful. Her thighs flexed with each bounce - controlled power, technique refined over years. She rode like she fought: ruthless economy of motion, nothing wasted. The wet slap of flesh meeting flesh echoed off the villa walls. Her ass slammed down on my groin with enough force to bruise, crushing me into the deck. Her hands pressed into my chest hard enough to leave marks, nails biting, claiming.

She wasn't gentle or sensual - she was conquering.

The sun hammered down without mercy. Sweat ran in rivulets down her spine, pooling at the small of her back before dripping onto my stomach. Her hair whipped with each violent bounce, sticking to her neck and shoulders. The wooden deck creaked beneath us - protesting, threatening to splinter.

"Look at this, Yuna." Ryujin's voice was breathless but commanding. "Real cock beats silicone. Hits spots those toys can't reach."

She shifted angles - leaning back, hands braced on my thighs behind her, and the new position drove me impossibly deeper. Her back curved into a bow, tits pushed skyward, throat bared to the sun like an offering. The visual was devastating, pornographic, and perfect.

I felt every ridge inside her, every texture, every deliberate squeeze. She wasn't just riding - she was working me, milking me, using muscles I didn't know existed. Her rhythm was relentless. Unforgiving. Building and building with mechanical precision.

Something was wrong. I could feel it in the way she moved - not just aggressive, but angry. Like she was trying to prove something. To me? To Yuna? To someone who wasn't even here?

"Fuck - Ryujin - " I gasped, my fingers digging into her hips hard enough to bruise. "Slow down - I can't - "

"Can't what?" She ground down harder, rotating her hips in a tight circle that made stars explode behind my eyes. Her voice had an edge I didn't understand. "Can't handle it? Or can't handle me?"

The emphasis on the last word was strange. Personal.

"Ryujin - wait - "

"No." She leaned forward again, bracing her hands on my chest, and the angle changed once more. Now she was hitting that spot - the one that made my cock pulse involuntarily, the one that made my balls tighten with warning. "No more waiting. I've waited long enough."

Waited for what?

I didn't understand what the fuck was happening. Yeji had warned me to stay away from Ryujin, called her dangerous, but never explained why. Never told me what history existed between them beyond being partners in chaos.

And now I was caught in the middle of some psychosexual Cold War I couldn't even see the borders of.

"You know what really pisses me off?" Ryujin's voice was ragged now, breathless but sharp. She slammed down harder. Faster. Her thighs were pistons - powerful, tireless, mechanical in their efficiency. "She keeps you locked away like some kind of fucking secret. Like you're too precious to share."

Her hands pressed harder into my chest, nails breaking skin.

"We share everything. Guys, secrets, all the degenerate parts of this industry." Another brutal bounce. "But not you. Never you."

I felt my stomach drop. This wasn't just about sex. This was about Yeji.

"Ryujin, I don't - " I tried to speak, to explain something I didn't even understand myself, but she cut me off with a particularly vicious grind that made me gasp.

"Don't what? Don't understand?" Her laugh was bitter. "Of course you don't. She wouldn't tell you. Wouldn't tell you that we used to share everyone. That we were supposed to be untouchable together."

The wet sounds grew obscene, echoing off the villa walls. I could hear Yuna's shocked breathing from the shower stall, could feel her watching every brutal bounce.

Ryujin's pussy started clenching in waves - not random, but deliberate. Rhythmic squeezes timed perfectly with each downward slam, creating pressure that felt less like sex and more like she was trying to juice me like a fucking orange. It was too much, too intense, too fucking overwhelming.

"But she drew a line with you." Her voice cracked slightly on the last word, vulnerability bleeding through the aggression for just a second before she slammed it shut with another punishing thrust - harder than before, like she was trying to fuck the feeling out of existence. "Kept you all to herself. Like I wasn't good enough."

Oh god.

That's what this was. That's what I'd walked into. Not just competition. Not just anger.

Hurt.

I was the weapon in their emotional proxy war. A human-shaped Trojan horse made of dick and poor life choices.

And something darker underneath - something that made Yeji's warning finally make sense. Ryujin wasn't dangerous because she was aggressive. She was dangerous because she was wounded, and wounded things fight dirtiest when cornered.

I'd given her exactly what she needed to feel powerful again - even if it meant destroying me in the process.

"No - " I choked out, my body betraying me. "Not yet - I just - "

"Yes. Now." She leaned forward, her face inches from mine, sweat dripping from her chin onto my chest. Her eyes were bright, manic, hungry - but underneath the performance, something desperate clawed at the edges. "Give it to me. All of it. Everything she thought was hers."

Something flickered - her focus going distant for just a second, like she wasn't quite here anymore, lost in whatever storm was raging inside her head. Then she snapped back, and the intensity doubled.

Whatever she'd been thinking about - whatever demons she was wrestling with in that moment - she channeled it all into me. Into this. Her jaw set with determination, that competitive fire I'd seen on stage now burning in her eyes. She was going to make me break. Going to prove something to herself, to me, maybe to Yeji through me. I didn't know. I just knew I was fucked.

Her hips moved in a blur - up, down, grind, repeat - a combination attack that left no room for resistance. Her inner walls rippled and massaged, pulling me deeper, demanding my surrender.

I felt it building - impossible, but undeniable. My seventh orgasm of the day, dragged out of me by pure force.

"Ryujin - fuck - I'm gonna - "

"Already?" She laughed, but I could feel her pussy clenching around me. "You bad boy. Coming so soon?"

I couldn't stop it. My hips bucked up involuntarily, and I exploded inside her. Wave after wave of cum pumped into her pussy, flooding her womb.

"Did you just cum INSIDE her?!"

Yuna's voice cracked with the injustice of it all. She stomped her foot for emphasis - which was a mistake, because the motion caused a truly obscene squelch as more cum evacuated her pussy in one undignified gush. It splattered on the deck between her legs with the consistency of half-melted ice cream.

She glared down at it, betrayed by her own body.

The universe had impeccable comedic timing. Terrible judgment, but impeccable timing. As had been the case all morning.

Then looked back up at Ryujin, eyes blazing.

"Inside her? But - but I'm literally the one who - " She gestured wildly at her own cum-dripping state, as if this were a legitimate legal argument. "Like, that's not fair!"

Ryujin didn't even look at her. Didn't acknowledge the protest. She was too busy clenching down hard, milking another spurt of cum from my oversensitive cock, and the sensation - the proof of her victory pumping into her - hit something deep inside her that had nothing to do with orgasm and everything to do with finally, finally taking something that was supposed to be off-limits.

Then she threw her head back and howled - not quite a victory cry, more like releasing something that had been building for months. There was triumph in it, yes, but also rage, and hurt, and something desperate that made my chest tighten. Raw. Primal. Unhinged. Loud enough to wake the entire villa. Loud enough that maybe, somewhere, Yeji would hear it.

She rode it out, milking every drop with expert squeezes. Her head fell back, her mouth open in pleasure, and for a moment she looked almost vulnerable.

Then the moment passed.

When the spasms finally stopped, she stood up slowly. My cock slipped out with a wet sound, and a massive glob of cum immediately fell from her pussy, landing on my stomach with a splat.

I looked up at her - sweat-drenched, triumphant, grinning down at me like she'd just planted a flag on conquered territory - and realized I still didn't understand what the fuck had actually happened here.

But I understood enough to be scared.

Yeji had been right. Ryujin was dangerous.

Just not in the way I'd thought.

I groaned, trying to sit up. Every muscle in my body screamed. I was done - completely, utterly spent.

"Okay," I panted. "That's... that's enough. I need to - "

Ryujin pushed me back down, her hand firm on my chest. Her eyes were wild, manic, insatiable.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Ryujin's voice stopped me cold.

Her hand shot out, pressing flat against my chest. Not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to remind me she was built like a fucking tank and could absolutely tackle me if she wanted.

I looked down at her. Sweat-slicked skin, flushed cheeks, that wild tangle of dark hair framing her face. Her eyes were bright, manic, hungry - but underneath it all, I saw something raw. Something that looked almost like desperation.

She turned around slowly, deliberately, presenting her backside. The flex of her glutes, the dip of her spine, the sheer power radiating from every inch of her compact frame - it was overwhelming.

Then she reached back and spread herself open.

Her asshole was tight, pink, completely untouched despite the chaos she'd just put her pussy through.

"Think you can handle my ass?" she challenged, voice low and rough.

Both Yuna and I made identical sounds of shock - somewhere between a gasp and a choke.

Ryujin glanced back over her shoulder, and the grin she flashed was pure sin wrapped in challenge. But her eyes… her eyes were asking a question she'd never say out loud.

"Yeji's never let you do this, has she?" The words came out teasing, but there was an edge underneath. "Bet you've wondered what it's like. Bet you've wanted to."

She wasn't wrong.

But this wasn't about want. This was about Ryujin trying to prove something - to me, to Yuna, maybe to herself.

And that made it so much worse.