#jules.fic

“You’re late,” you whisper into the not-quite-as-empty-as-before room, placing the brush down in its proper place, painted lips parting over a smirk when the shadows answer with a low brush of laughter.

You’ve done this song and dance before. With wandering hands and secrets spilled between parted lips, pressed too close but never close enough. Hongjoong steps from the shadows with a thumb hooked into a ripped pocket, ringed hands shining in the low light. He wears his wide brimmed hat cocked to the side, body draped in thin leather and unexpectedly fine cloth that does little to hide the confident swagger, the shine of the cutlass at his left hip. His booted steps are silent against the dark rug, stepping fully from the shadows he inhabits and into your light.

“My sincerest apologies, my lady,” he says with a sweeping bow at the waist, taking off his hat as he goes. He glances up with the edge of something dangerous in his smirk, standing to full height and closing the distance in a few practiced steps. He holds your gaze in the mirror, haughty and sure before he stands just behind where you sit. 

“I seem to have misplaced my invitation, or perhaps your mother forgot to send me one,” he continues with a mock-offended widening of his eyes, hand cupping his jaw in deep thought as his brows furrow and you fight the urge to snort.

Propriety (and your father) dictates that he is vulgar, disrespectful, a criminal and a rake; someone you should never once cross paths with, let alone offer any of your time or attention. Your station and delicate hands are worthy of the highest bidder, of fine china and soft laughter hidden behind silken gloves. Not of pirates, of men who will sweep you off into adventure and not off your heeled feet with delicate words your mother approves of.

(And here’s the kicker: he is all of these things. He’s on the fringe, a pirate with weapons hidden in his clothes as well as his tongue. He’s clever and quick-witted, uncaring and charming and more at home swallowing down rum in the gutters with the rest of those that society deems as lesser. Unafraid to speak his mind, to go after what he wants. To tame the seas and chase freedom. Your envy is as wide as his smirk.)

A ringed hand circles your throat, Hongjoong’s thumb tracing the line of your jaw. Your lashes flutter at the sensation, relaxing into the low back of the chair as your head tilts, flowers in your hair pressing against the metal buckle of his belt. A part of you wonders if he can feel the harried rise of your pulse, pressed intimately to calloused fingertips.

“Run away with me,” Hongjoong whispers into the crown of your head when he leans down, as he does every time. Eyes closed as he inhales the sweet smell of your hair, groaning low in his throat. His fingers twitch on your neck, a frisson of delight shooting straight into your core at the sensation.

“I can't,” you reply, as you do every time. Eyes heavy lidded, you lift your hand to grip to his wrist, nails dragging a teasing touch into the delicate skin you find there. Pirate or no, he’s a man of flesh and blood just the same as any other. A slave to his desires, no matter how many times he insists that he is free.

“Because it isn't proper .” He spits the word like a curse, eyes opening just to roll. He keeps his hand where it is, tilting your head back to trace the delicate column of your exposed throat.

He never understands. “I have to -”

“Listen to mummy and daddy, keep that pretty little head empty.” His words bite harder than usual, a flush heating your face. He isn't - wrong. More concerned with reputation, with keeping what little freedom your family grants you to keep meeting him like this. It isn't so simple as to run off into the night, and no matter how frustrated he grows you know he understands. 

Even so, it makes you smile. A wicked and selfish little quirk of your mouth, one that Hongjoong zeroes in on. His hand roams from your throat to your mouth, thumb dipping against the rise of your bottom lip to swipe at the red tinting your mouth. Among all others, even with his wealth and reputation, still he wants you. More than any other, every desire falling to the wayside in favor of your demure hands and laughter shared between whispering mouths.

The same argument, half-hearted or heated, giving way to the same conclusion. Words drifting off into silence, desire suffusing the room until you fall together. Hongjoong looks away with an apology swimming in dark eyes, the same frustration mirrored within you. Were it only so simple. 

“Proper,” he says, though he’s smiling this time in such a way that surely means you’re in danger. Hongjoong glances down at your exposed chest, corset doing its work, and the edge of his grin turns sharp. “How proper would it be, to be taken in front of a mirror during your mother’s party?”

He uses your gasp to his advantage, thumb dipping just inside your mouth at that soft little inhalation. Your eyes widen even as you close your lips around him, instinctive and dutiful. The stain of red transfers easily to his skin, painting him for this brief and glorious moment as yours. 

There is little time, much and more longing; Hongjoong rips off his hat to toss it somewhere behind him, ducking down to rake his teeth over your exposed shoulder. The blunt tease of it makes your back arch, soft moan spilling around his thumb until his eyes shine in the dark. He lifts you to your feet, hands hooking beneath your arms, a palm flattened to your belly; the corset is laced perfectly, his blackened nails raking over fine fabric with a quiet scoff when he realizes he cannot feel you - not the softness of your flesh, not the warmth he knows you exude from his presence alone. 

Even still you simmer for him; blood running hot beneath the flush of your skin, balancing on unsteady feet and wondering when you had begun to dance to his tune as readily as the men under his command. Hongjoong disappears at your back, moving the low stool you’d been sitting on to the side before his fingertips dance at your bare ankles. His touch is a balm, roughened palms lovingly tracing your curves as he follows the line of your legs, skirt bunching around his wrists as he goes.

A shiver down your spine, when cool air wraps around your exposed legs. His laughter is banked as low as the hearth when he notices your distinct lack of smallclothes - your answering grin is lascivious, practically dripping promised sin with your smudged makeup and decision to throw decorum to the wind. Always, with him.

His mouth returns to your bare shoulder to paint his mark with teeth and tongue, rolling the heavy drag of fabric about your hips to expose you to his rampant desire. Your gasp is nearly lost to time when you feel his hand on your throat, gentle enough to save you from uncomfortable to explain marks, but urgent enough that you bend to his whim. He forces your face towards the mirror -when had you closed your eyes, back arched in bliss from Hongjoong’s reverant hands on you?- and you blink blearily until you can see your reflections, Hongjoong’s eyes bright above your shoulder and your cheeks heated in a deep flush.

“Watch,” he instructs, a kiss pressed to the curve of your shoulderblade, the moment his other hand snakes forward to delve between your thighs.

Your knees fold immediately, his clever fingers tracing your slit and bumping just over the sharp rise of your swollen clit. This - this is heaven, when you bite your lip to keep your instinctive noises of delight subdued and quiet. Hongjoong watching you in your reflection with something approaching devotion, glancing between your dropped-open mouth and the shine of wetness on your thighs over and again.

He plays you expertly, spreading your folds and swirling the tip of his middle finger over where you need him most. It sings through your veins, core clenching tightly. And he simply laughs - burying it in your heated skin and sucking a bruise into the back of your neck when all you can manage is to breathe his name. 

His hips rut against your backside, erection insistent upon you. He groans, voice shaky and a higher pitch than normal - but still he only teases, himself more than you. Hongjoong locks his eyes to yours as he toys with your clit, bringing you closer to the edge whilst burning beneath the focus of his lovely eyes.

“Are you mine?” He croons, saccharine-sweet and his grin has the honed edge of a blade. He is dangerous, your man - but he is yours nonetheless. Even in this fantasy, even in this dream.

“Yes,” you whisper in answer, immediately and without question. There is no time to consider, to allow propriety to win out. Even in secret, you belong utterly to him - and you both know it.

Hongjoong’s low moan is your reward, his kisses turning silken. Peppered across your shoulder and back, forehead to your neck - he takes a moment to breathe, hand between your legs twisting elegantly until he can sink two fingers deep into your waiting cunt, right to the knuckle.

Light flashes in your eyes at the welcome intrusion, though your gasp is swallowed by the palm of Hongjoong’s hand. Lightning-fast from your throat to your lips, he keeps you quiet for your own sake. Wouldn't do to be caught with a pirate wrist-deep inside you when you’re supposed to be dancing the night away with perfectly respectable members of society. 

Sometimes you wish they could hear how he makes you scream. The thought alone makes a fresh wave of arousal spill down his hand until it soaks his cuff.

The angle is awkward but you don't care. He fucks his fingers shallow into your dripping heart, thumb rolling over your bundle of nerves until the integrity of your knees threaten to fail. It is a heady thing, to watch the way his hand works over your intimate reaches with nothing but reverence in his eyes. Your makeup is smearing from his hand and your wet and gasping breaths but you just don't care; he holds you up, plucks delight from your blood and bones until you sing for him as prettily as his crew. You think you could love him for what he does to you. 

Your mouth opens, teeth exposed to bite at the meat of his palm. Hongjoong releases you, fingers still working your cunt, and you have to swallow the moan that lingers behind your teeth when you see the drag of red-pink from your lips to your cheek to his hand. 

You might not be able to mark him further than smudged cosmetics. He might only be able to find you in the cover of night. But even so -

Even so.

“Are you mine?” You repeat his own question in a whisper, voice airy and breathless and did he really have to push harder on your clit right at this moment? 

Hongjoong stills for a moment, brows furrowed in quiet contemplation. Which is an expression that would be surely comedic as he still has his hand in your cunt but he - looks at you. Carefully, nearly sweetly. You feel more exposed now than when he had first buried himself in your heat.

You can feel it all, simply from the weight of his stare. But your attention is kept elsewhere, drawn utterly by the man you kneel for, the one whose hands are buried in your fall of hair, and cupping your cheek with such gentle reverence you could weep for it.

“You’re doing so well, angel,” Seonghwa whispers to you, smiling softer than silk when he traces the curve of your cheek with the pad of his thumb. His touch is peaceful, serene; keeping you grounded and safe whilst he bruises the inside of your throat. His mood changes, as the evening plays out, as Hongjoong’s noises grow more desperate or quiet. He slams into your mouth and fucks you harshly when he groans, slows down to wipe your tears and praise you with whispered words of delicious affection every time he wriggles in his seat and presses a palm over the hard rise of his erection through his sweats. Seonghwa plays you both like practiced instruments, with clever fingers and soothing voice that wraps around you like a too-heavy blanket.

And you are grateful for it, in the way tears shine on your lashes when you peek up through them to watch Seonghwa’s face, lovingly tracing the concentrated furrow of his brow and the blissed smile curving his lips. The dusting of a flush high on his cheeks makes your thighs come together, needy to dispel the ache that lingers in your slick and wanting cunt. The thrill of satisfaction doesn't come from carnal delight, but rather the power you hold over them both. From taking Seonghwa to the brink with nothing save a worshipful mouth, to Hongjoong’s whiny moans each time he watches you blink away tears or hears you gag around Seonghwa’s cock.

It is a heady thing, to hold such power whilst on your knees. Can do nothing but delight in it, with sweat gleaming on your skin and jaw sore from sitting pretty and obedient for near on an hour. Warming him, at first; keeping him hard and languid to torture Hongjoong all the more as he is forbidden to touch - himself, or otherwise. Delegated to sit and watch, melting into a puddle of his own torment with lips bitten and face flushed. You cannot tell who he wishes to be more - Seonghwa, with his blissed out smile and wet heat wrapped lovingly around his cock. Or you - on bruised knees but so tenderly treated, cock halfway down your throat that feels like a benediction.

“Beautiful,” Seonghwa croons to you, tracing the line of your jaw and stealing your attention for himself once again. He’s a greedy thing, when all is said and done; behind closed doors, when it’s no one but you three and all that remains is the promise of delectation between needy kisses and wandering hands. Your core flutters at his praise, and you hollow your cheeks to better wrap around his length with a pleased little hum. He tenses, fingers curling until blunted nails rake your skin, and spears himself deeper into the tight sheathe of your throat.

Your breath is stolen but still you moan, deep in your chest, when he pulls out to watch the way your spit shines on the skin of his cock. Soaked, as well as your cheeks and chin and chest; he’s made a mess of you, and you cannot be anything save grateful for it. Seonghwa runs his thumb through the spit coating your chin, eyes bright from lust and the way you wait on baited breath for his next move. Already you miss the weight of his cock in you, thick and cloying on your palate and able to wring impossibly lovely noises from his stricken expression. 

“Nothing prettier than our angel on her knees, ready to serve,” Seonghwa continues after a moment, head tilted to the side and eyes flicking from you to Hongjoong. His expression darkens with a wicked curve of his smirk, and he palms his cock to better show off your slick and salacious work. 

“Always so good for us, love,” he finishes with a low brush of laughter, and you cannot tell who’s ears the words are meant for. Even still you tilt forward, mouth achingly empty and cunt pulsing with every harried beat of your heart. Seonghwa grins, lascivious and heartbreakingly beautiful, before cupping your chin. His fingertips dig into the hinge of your jaw, forcing your mouth open once again. You can barely take a breath before he’s slamming forward, your throat instinctively convulsing around the intrusion and head going breezy. But Seonghwa moans, loud and unashamed, with head thrown back and mouth dropped open to sing your praises with an approximation of your name interspersed with low moans that make your toes curl. Tears spill anew from your stinging eyes, running a river down your cheeks; but still you swallow stubbornly around his cock, breathing through your nose when Seonghwa finds enough mercy to pull out until just the head rests on your tongue, hand roving to bury in your hair before thrusting forward once more.

He fucks you rough, deep; knowing you can take it for nothing else than to please him. It burns you with every pass, throat bulging obscenely and spit drooling from your spread lips to drip down to your naked chest. But Seonghwa is close, balls tightening and chest heaving from the exertion of receiving pleasure that threatens to unravel him, fingers knotting in your hair until he pushes and pulls you along to his rhythm. Fucking your throat until his cock leaks a fountain down the bruised column, Hongjoong’s wail of desperation echoing in your ears as he finally begs with broken words for Seonghwa to let him come.

“Soon,” Seonghwa tells him with a breathless sort of laugh, hips stuttering in their rhythm as he chases his peak. Your throat aches and your head swims from lack of air but you want it - so badly it aches from your cunt to your bones. You want him to spill in your mouth, fill you with his spend and cement his claim over you, your body - everything. 

Seonghwa pulls out just as his climax begins to overtake him, face flushed and eyes heavy-lidded, still he has the presence of mind to grip to his length and use his hand to wrench your jaw open. Eyes locked on yours he jerks himself quickly, the slick sound of his tight fingers gliding over the mess you’ve made of him is loud in your ears, but still you open your mouth and tilt your face skyward, ready and waiting.

He comes with a stuttered moan, releasing on your waiting tongue. Seonghwa’s muscles go taut and you feel each thick rope of his spend land in your mouth, eyes closing at the taste of him. Thick and cloying as it lingers on your palate, thighs trembling and shifting together. He rubs the head of his cock over your lips when he finishes, gasping breaths filling the air and the steady thrum of desire in your core makes you wonder if you could finish just from this, mouth closing and groaning softly at the feel of his come filling every inch.

You dont swallow; instead you wait until the trembling of his hands has ceased and his eyes once more focus on you. He blinks through his haze, grinning sloppily and petting your cheeks. He taps your lips once, and you open your mouth to show him his work; come pooling on your tongue, staining your lips and oh but he’s wrecked you perfectly, throat red and face soaked in spit and tears, still looking up at him with love in your eyes for all he does to you.

He leans down to kiss your forehead softly, petting your hair and rubbing soothing circles into your naked shoulder. It’s hypnotic, your body listing lazily to the side as you sigh, blinking away your tears and nuzzling up into his loving touch. Seonghwa laughs, gentle and sweet, and helps you to your unsteady feet.

“Give it to him, angel,” he tells you, squeezing your hands and turning you around to look at your third piece. Hongjoong looks utterly wrecked, knuckles bleeding white where he grips to the chair, face flushed and you could swear for a moment there are tears in his eyes.

“Please,” he says, lips pressed into a pout, and you feel nothing save mercy for the wet patch over his groin, his cock still hard and straining and you coo and how badly he must ache. You leave the bubble of Seonghwa’s touch to close the distance, hand immediately falling to Hongjoong’s cheek in a tender rub of affection. He’d done so well, and Seonghwa tells him as such, voice soft from where he lays on the bed, watching you both with the languid relaxation of someone basking in their high. Your knee falls between Hongjoong’s thighs, leaning into his chair and looming above him with adoration banked in your gaze.

You cup Hongjoong’s cheek and tilt his face up, eyes shifting from the red of his lips to the red of his cheeks, from his wide and wanting eyes to the way he whispers your name. A thumb dragging his bottom lip down does the trick, his mouth opening obediently and instantly for you; your smile is a sweet one, when you lean down until your mouth hovers just a hair's breadth from his own. The promise of a kiss, your laughter low and hands tender. You take in a sharp breath before cupping his jaw, opening his mouth wider and spitting in his mouth. Slick and divine, your spit and Seonghwa’s come a gift from your mouth to his. And Hongjoong moans - high and loud and unashamed, tongue dipping out to better receive. His lashes flutter at the taste, your fingertips dragging in his skin when he swallows it all down. 

You rake nails through his hair and press a kiss to his forehead, whispering words of praise. “Go on,” you encourage him with a wicked gleam painting the curve of your smile. Hongjoong nods, eagerly, palms connecting instantly to your hips until his fingertips drag deep into the give of your flesh. He pulls you down and pushes himself forward, hips thrusting until he can grind the hard rise of his still-clothed erection against your knee.

His panting breaths fill the room, high-pitched moans from a heaving chest as his eyes scrunch shut. Expression crumpling beautifully, he chases his pleasure by rutting like a hound against your offered leg, keening and quick and slurred-together words of thanks spilling from between bitten lips. Hips jerking forward and up, nails sinking into your hips until you suspect you’ll wear a half-dozen crescents for a few hours after this. He looks up at you like a supplicant at worship, unashamed as he grinds and pants and pathetically laps up any and all of your attention. 

It’s one of those nights where all you want is to turn off your brain for a while. Conscious thought falling blissfully to the wayside, making way for nothing save a pretty head feeling as though it’s stuffed with cotton, unaware of any anxieties or stress. Pampered, spoiled; no awareness save the delicious courtesy of Seonghwa’s loving touch - cradling and bruising in equal measure, dragging you to your brink over and again until all you can manage is to breathe his name.

He croons sweet words of praise when you clench around him, breath gasping out when his fingers idly play with your clit. Laying abed with you pressed into his chest, a leg thrown over his hip to better devour you. Plucking delectable sounds from your throat, heat coursing through your veins; your hips jerk forward to chase his touch, to unravel the knot in your core. He stretches you perfectly; pretty cock thrust deep into your dripping heat, barely moving his hips or fucking you in earnest. Seonghwa is content to watch you with heavy-lidded eyes, groaning at the tightened sheathe wrapped around his length. He pushes back your hair to better see your eyes, hazy and wide; his smile turns sweet at the sight, head leaning down until he can press a kiss against your sweat-slicked forehead.

“Angel,” he whispers, fingertips swirling around your clit until your thighs tense and a low keen slips past your teeth, “you feel so good around me. Do you like being filled with mommy’s cock, sweet girl?”

You cannot hope to find your breath, not with arousal making your veins feels tight and the pulse in your cunt deepening with his every word. Instead you nod, eager and honest, looking up at him through damp lashes and clenching around him with a low moan.

He smiles, sweet as sugarcane, and presses a kiss to your brow, your nose, your cheek. Lingers just above your mouth, his breath fanning over you in a tantalizing tease. Your back arches, chasing his mouth and the promise of his kiss, needy for the feel of him against your lips. Even still, Seonghwa denies you; low laughter your answer when he shifts his hips and arches his back, spearing himself deeper within your heat until you swear for a moment there are stars across your vision.

A hand to the back of your head brings you forward, cradled to his chest. Your eyes flutter shut at the enveloping feeling of safety, moaning brokenly for mommy as his hands wander and his words breathe life back into you. “Sweet girl, pretty girl, angel.”

Your lips part as you breathe deep, his scent filling your senses. His skin is damp but soft, smelling clean with the undercurrent of perfume and the slight musk of sweat. Heavy on your palate, your mouth drags lazy kisses across his chest as his fingers work between your thighs, dragging you slow as melting ice to the edge. Shifting hips and lazy kisses, your mouth finds a hardened nipple. Your lips close around the bud eagerly, tip of your tongue flicking over it in a facsimile of his fingers. 

His high gasp makes victory surge through you, moaning unashamedly at the feel on his beneath your tongue. Seonghwa’s hips stutter, thrusts turning harder when you suck on his nipple, cheeks hollowed and hands gripping tight to his trim waist. You suck and nip and lick ardently, leaving his skin wet and shining. Laving the flat of your tongue over it, teeth scraping just so; his nipple is dark and hard and your smile is victorious when his fingers pinch your clit in warning before doubling his efforts to make you cream around his cock.

“You wanna make mommy come that badly, angel?” Seonghwa asks with a breathless little laugh, nose buried in your hair and hips thrusting harder. Your moan is loud, despite your mouth seared over his nipple; thighs tightening and core clenched, hips trying to meet his rhythm. You can feel him nestled deep within, thick and heavy and the way he fucks you nearly has you ruined - low and slow and deep, nails raking down your naked back and cradling your neck to his chest. A juxtaposition that makes you clench, soaked and wanting and needy for more.

His fingers swirl faster over your clit, up and down or side to side; keeping you guessing. His breath comes faster now, and his kind-cruel hands knot in your hair to wrench you from his swollen, shiny nipple with a groan. He looks down on you with a pretty pink blush, loose hair falling over his forehead and a smile curbing his mouth. “Easy, angel. Mommy wants to see you.”

You preen at his words, core tightening as his thrusts increase in tempo, every shift of his cock slick and satisfying in your eager cunt. His hand roams from your hair to your face, fingertips tracing your jawline before he sweeps the pads of his fingers across your wet lower lip. You open immediately, lashes fluttering as he slides two fingers past your lips. He keeps them steady, holding down your tongue; you suck on them like a cock, wanton and unashamed. Cheeks hollowed and tongue slipping around them lasciviously, a shuddering moan shooting through your spine when he shallowly fucks your mouth in and out - in and out.

“Suck on these for mommy, angel,” he croons to you, eyes gone dark and voice gone shaky. You can feel the twitch of his cock cradled within you, back arching when those clever fingers betwixt your thighs drags you closer. “Good girl.”

He keeps you pinned between fingers and cock, hushing your muffled cries with the errant kiss and caress. Forces your eyes to stay locked on his, fucking you harder - deeper - faster until all you can do is arch and writhe and clench around him, a stifled wail coming with tears of desperation. Your toes are curling and then tension in your spine threatens to snap, but you know that mommy has you.

“There we go, angel,” Seonghwa says with a grin, watching for the moment you drop into desperation, soaking his cock and fingers until all that remains in the delicious viscosity of your agony. His fingers reach the back of your throat, making you choke and gag but he only fucks you harder, fingertips dancing over your swollen and needy clit until you swear you feel the tension in your heart. 

“Can you come for mommy, sweet girl? Make a mess all over mommy’s cock?” And it is your undoing - the knot in your core swells, heartbeat pulsing in time with his thrusts until your climax comes with a harsh cry wrenched from your throat. Your spit spills to soak him all the way down to his wrist, cunt clenching hard enough he gasps through the strain. Your muscles twitch as you moan, teeth dragging over his fingers and eyes squeezed shut to better ride your wave. His cock slams into you harsh enough to make you gasp, Seonghwa’s answering moan loud in your thunder-filled ears. 

He’s a pretty picture, all dolled up with nowhere to go - save to prostrate himself at your feet. Hair mussed, broad chest streaked with sweat; his low groans are music to your ears when your fingertips dance, soft as silk, to trace the back of his hand. Teasing, tantalizing; giving him barely a taste of the delectation your touch promises. The back of your knuckles follow the line of his elbow, over his bicep and across that pretty chest until you can catch the edge of a thumbnail on his raised collarbone. And Mingi whimpers, the sweet thing; weight shifting and bottom lip caught between his teeth, eyes gone watery and wide as he waits and waits and waits.

You croon his name, hushing his impatient murmurs with a hand cupping his cheek. He chases your touch, head listing to the side and mouth dropped open to whisper a soft little plea. 

“Hush,” you tell him, fingers gripping tight to the line of his jaw, wrenching him forward until all he can see gazing up through wet lashes is you. And he does, the good boy; quiets his desperate noises with a thick and audible swallow and the slightest jump of his hardened cock, jutting between his spread thighs and tempting you to give in and provide for him what he so fervently needs. 

A beat of his harried heart, then another, and another. You keep your eyes locked on his, nails digging into his cheek and commanding his quiet. Slowly, carefully, your free hand drifts down, down until your palm slides over the bumps of his abdomen. Mingi flinches, reedy little moan caught in his throat before he can stifle it completely. 

It makes your core flutter, clenching and wet and so easily pleased by how quickly he can melt in your hands. “Hush,” you tell him again, tone edging out a warning as your eyes flash, nails dipping and dragging to score red lines over his jaw until you can hook a finger through the simple ring on his collar. It takes little effort to unbalance him, tugging him forward with a snap of your wrist the moment your other hand wraps around his cock.

It’s a reward in and of itself, when Mingi throws his head back at the friction. His jaw clenches, throat working noiselessly as he thrusts his hips forward, chasing your touch. Lashes fluttering, your cheshire grin is kept a secret. 

“Good boy,” you whisper to him, fingers tracing the thick veins of his shaft as you palm the leaking head. His cock weeps at the praise, your boy keyed up enough that his precome drips to the floor. Leaning forward, your teeth drag over the line of his jaw before you press a well-deserved kiss to his cheek. 

His muscles strain as he fights not to fidget, thighs tense and cock twitching in your hand. Arousal pools betwixt your thighs, fist tightening around his shaft to jerk him slow enough to break every inch of resolve that remains. You can feel the cool glide of silk, each time you reach the base of his cock; another simple thing, in just its parts. A pretty pink ribbon, one he’d gifted you for your hair. Wrapped end over end, tied off in a neat little bow.

“My good boy,” you continue, voice gone low as you trap him by throat and by cock, leading him to your tune, “with his big and useless cock. How does it feel, pet?” 

It shouldn't feel as good as it does. Even still, your thighs shift together, lashes fluttering as you feel every frisson of arousal sloughing thick as honey through your veins. Mingi groans around his next breath, your laughter breaking against him like a wave. 

“Good,” he breathes, hips jerking forward and making the bow sway fetchingly. “So good - thank you.” His words are stuttered and soft, breaking on a high gasp when you trace the ridge beneath the head of his cock with a fingernail. Your smile is sweet, tightening your fist around his dick to allow him some sweet release from the pressure.

Your eyes watch him with a pleasant glint lingering in the fore. Your touch at his neck moves to push back the damp hair that sticks to his forehead, moving lower to cup his cheek affectionately. Mingi preens beneath the attention, leaning into your hand and silently begging to finally, finally, give him what he needs.

“Heels to your ass,” you tell him as you pull away, hands removed from him and delighting in the way he pouts with wide eyes that follow your every movement, “and knees spread. Show me that pretty cock.”

Within a breath Mingi does as he's bid, nodding almost too eagerly as he goes. He sits back until his ass rests on his heels, rolling his hips with his teeth sunk down into his lower lip. He opens his legs obediently, cock jutting forward for your appraising eye. But you don't look, nor do you so much as glance; all it takes is a single arched brow directed towards him for his arms to lift, hands on the back of his neck with fingers linked together.

You nod appreciatively, murmuring a soft good boy before you’re running your gaze down his body. Mingi’s muscles tighten as a flush burns down his chest, feeling very nearly shy as you study him shamelessly. From his pleading eyes to his pebbled nipples, down to his kneeling legs and heavy cock. 

“Good boy,” you praise him with a smile, hooking a finger into his collar to force his eyes on you. He nods at your words, chewing his lower lip until it’s pink and swollen and yours for the taking. You kiss him with teeth, tongue flicking out to trace the seam on his lips before swallowing his moan. Nipping at his lip, you know he can feel your smile. 

You’re only a little dizzy when you finally stand to full height, Mingi’s face tilted to watch you with that lust-filled daze in his eye. Your hand finds purchase in his hair, dragging him forward to shove his face right against your clothed cunt.

His breathing is heavy as he inhales your scent, musk lingering thick and cloying on his tongue. He moans unabashedly, nosing at your mound and mouthing lazily at the silk of your panties. A shiver runs through your spine, head falling back as your hand tightens in his hair until it must surely ache. 

“Go on, then,” you manage to mutter with a breathless little laugh, feigning nonchalance with a flick of the wrist. You grind his nose on your cunt, feeling that spark of arousal on your clit when you find just the right angle.

“Thank you,” Mingi groans into your panties, and you can feel the shift of his weight as he moves to fist his cock, neck straining as you push and pull him at your leisure. He jerks off quickly, too impatient by half; his moans grow louder, needier, his eyes closed in bliss. 

It doesn't take long for him to reach the edge, whiny and muted little ah’s spilling from his mouth, your hips grinding down as your breath quickens. You ride his face because that’s all he’s good for, telling him as much with a bubble of laughter hidden amongst soft moans.

“That’s right, sweet boy,” you continue, thighs beginning to tremble as you chase your peak, Mingi’s tongue tracing your clothed slit until you see stars, “this is where you belong. On your knees, face shoved between my legs. Useless cock leaking to the floor. Pathetic.”

His moans stutter as his back arches, bracelets jingling musically as he jerks himself faster. Tears darken his lashes, pretty as a picture when he opens his eyes and looks up at you with something approaching reverence. Your hips thrust faster at the sight, lips parting to moan out his name.

“What are you?" You ask him, breathless and shaky as the knotted arousal in your core begins to shift and unravel, knees going weak.

His answer is muted, but immediate. “Your good boy.”

“Again.”

Mingi whines, shoulders bunching forward when his fingers tighten around the head of his cock. “I’m your good boy.”

“And what are good boys allowed to do?” Your panties are soaked, now, sticking messily from your arousal and his mix of tears and spit; the wet glide of his nose running along your clit enough to have your muscles tightening. 

“Come,” he answers, nearly shy despite the fact he is happily panting at your feet. The tips of his ears burn red, and your smile is a soft one.

“That’s right. So be a good boy and come for me, sweetheart.”

His expression crumples beautifully, eyes squeezed shut and teeth bared as he gasps, tightened fist milking his cock. He coats the floor, whining pathetically at the sensitivity as he wrings every drop for you. The sight is heady, and you waste no time in pulling him closer and closer, stealing his breath as you follow his lead. Your climax has your knees trembling, breath leaving you in a gust as you crest the edge. Fingers tightening in his hair until he cries out, you stumble a step back before kneeling at his side, your voice soft with gentle praise and the press of your mouth to his forehead, cheek, nose. Mingi gasps for breath, and you press kiss after kiss until his eyes once more focus on you.

Kneeling on a towel does little to stave the ache from your knees, but even still you prostrate yourself before him. You take your time, no need to rush; Seonghwa extends one long, lithe leg until his foot rests on your thigh. It’s instinctive, when you keep the razor in one hand and reach to grip the curve of his ankle. Fingers wrapping a loving vice about his leg, dragging your nails just so against the arch of his foot, the bump of his ankle; Seonghwa lets out a small, shuddering breath at the sensation, foot rolling and toes curling appreciatively. Your smile is a sweet one, tilting your head to press a whisper-soft kiss to the bend of his knee. It feels almost like obeisance, and something like delight lingers in your core at the thought. 

He deserves to be worshipped. Appreciated, for his grace and beauty. And you are more than willing to provide, kneeling on a cold floor for your and his pleasure both.

You start with his legs. Painting him prettily in the soothing cream, from ankle to knee. Starting slow, cupping the back of his leg to keep him steady and sated. You bring the blade to begin just below the sharp rise of his bone, angling the razor until you can sweep down.

His hair is dark but fine, easily shaved by your reverent hands. The work is slow-going, methodical; the gentle rasp of steel-on-skin hypnotic as you work through the motions. Exposing freshly-shaven skin that pinkens from the drag of the knife, you cannot stop yourself from leaning forward to follow the path you’ve mapped out with an impulsive mouth. Worshipping the impossibly smooth skin with lips and tongue; he tastes clean, feels like heaven on your mouth. His breath stutters above you, and when you glance your eyes skyward you see his head tilted back, jaw tight and Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows a low groan. Your core tightens at the sight, and you continue your work.

Reaching his thigh is it’s own sweet torture. Finishing his calf, taking the time to map the slim slope with teasing fingers and warm kisses - you’re both breathing a little heavier, and you’ve barely begun. Seonghwa spreads his legs for you, cock half-hard and the loveliest blush dusting his cheeks. You sit between his knees, hand cupping the bottom of his thigh as you prepare him. His eyes burn into you each time the inside of your wrist nudges his cock, growing harder and hotter with each breath. This time, your smile is far less sweet. 

His thighs are softer than silk, even before you rid the hair from him. There’s the gentle rise of muscle, but still that sweet give of fat that you squeeze softly before bringing the blade down. You cover every inch, free hand cupping his calf and rubbing up and down, up and down. Seonghwa is starting to silently melt above you, legs falling open further in his relaxation, eyes shut and head listing to the side. His lips parted from how deep he breathes, his hands gripping the edge of the tub until his knuckles bleed white. 

It’s more erotic to be so close to his intimate reaches without doing anything about it than to have his cock in your mouth. A knife in your hand and your eyes bright when you look up at him from between spread thighs; you’re both burning for it, at this point. Dancing the edge of something profane. 

When you finish with his thigh -taking longer than before, eyes consistently shifting to watch his every reaction, the steady rise of his erection- to distractions in the form of your mouth on his skin, kissing impossibly soft skin and sucking bruises into him at your whim. His legs tremble finely beneath your efforts, and you bury your grin like a secret into the inside of his thigh.

The other leg is much the same - dragging it out, the whisper of the blade the only sound save his labored breathing. His hips keep shifting forward, half-hearted thrusts in silent request to end his torture and bring him relief. But you refuse to relent - you have a job to do, and shaving him is something you enjoy, the chance to help him and worship him in equal measure too tempting an offer to ignore. 

Reaching his groin after spending minutes with your mouth marking his thighs sees him hard enough it aches. His cock leaks, pearlescent drips down the length of his shaft. It’s a fit of pique that has you wrapping your lips around the red and swollen tip of his cock, cheeks hollowed and tongue flicking expertly over the ridge. Your reward is Seonghwa shivering, from head to foot; head thrown back and beautiful gasp caught in his throat when he whimpers your name like an exultation. 

You leave his cock with a kiss, and are pleasantly surprised to see he still has the presence of mind to reach for his aching cock. He holds his shaft down, hand angled to the side to give you space. The thatch of dark hair above the base is next, and even freshly bathed you cannot stop yourself from leaning forward until you can bury your nose in the crook of his groin, lashes fluttering when you inhale the scent of soap and his natural musk. He smells good enough to devour piece by piece, your hand tightening over the handle of the razor before you center yourself once again.

The edge of the blade kisses his pelvis, dragging over the thick hair in equal strokes. Your wrist bumps into his with every pass, and you can practically feel the way Seonghwa holds himself utterly still. You chance a glance up when you wipe the razor with a damp towel, and find him with jaw tense and eyes wide and pleading. You lean forward to kiss his chest as quiet reparation, delighting in the way he moans at the feel of your devout mouth. 

When he’s bare you cannot stop yourself from feeling it for yourself. The knife is put aside and you bat his hand away, wrapping loving fingers around his cock. And Seonghwa groans - deep in his chest, hips jerking forward of their own volition until he nearly slips from his perch. Your laughter brushes against his skin like a wave, as you jerk his cock slow enough to make him writhe. Your lips find the smooth skin of his groin, cock brushing the underside of your jaw when you pepper him with kisses. The drag of your teeth against the rise of his pubic bone makes him hiss out your name, and you kiss the base of his cock as apology.

He’s putty in your hands at this point, limbs languid and eyes heavy. You tease his leaking cock with expertly twisting fingers, lovingly squeezing the head and catching the edge of your nail over the ridge until his thighs twitch and you wonder how pretty he’d look with his come staining his freshly-shaved groin. Making a mess of himself after your hard and devoted work, too desperate by half after he’d gotten himself halfway to orgasm just by having you bring a knife to his skin. 

His breathing is harried by the time you use your mouth on him, kissing from his groin to his hip to his cock. Seonghwa’s hand buries itself in your hair at some point, tangling in your locks and holding on carefully as you drag him to the edge. Swallowing down his shaft is easy, nose pressing to the smooth plane of his groin and eyes fluttering shut in bliss at the sensation. 

You blow him lazily, spit drooling from your lips until your chin shines. He’s heavy on your tongue, precome thick and cloying. But his noises are the sweetest soft, and his legs feel like silk beneath your palms. You swirl your tongue and hollow your cheeks, throat opening in a silent plea for him to give you all he can.

Seonghwa’s reedy little whines heighten until he’s gasping your name, fingers tightening in your hair the only warning he can give. His cock twitches in your mouth and you have barely a breath to ready yourself before he’s spilling, warm and ardent, down your throat. You moan unashamed at the taste, feeling his twitch and buck beneath your loving efforts until you moan around him in bliss, in a job well done. Seonghwa shudders delicately, knees folding inwards until they bump into you and the satisfaction of wringing him out sloughs heavy and thick through your veins.

Sometimes, sometimes - the tales are whispered into the gloam of midnight. The waves too steady, unsettling in the juxtaposition to the normally tempestuous rhythm of the sea. When there is a blanket of unease pulled over the crew, shoulders huddled together and nails bitten to the quick, chapped lips forming the words in an almost-reverence. Danger, those tales warn. Fall not for the subtle seduction of sirens who will charm you, smile for you, love you - only to drag you down to the crushing depths for nothing more than sport. The steady-building horror of the silence of the sea, squeezing ‘round your head until nothing remains but the flash of shining eyes and white teeth a little too pointed. 

(Not even realizing what a fool you’ve been until the bitter cold of the sea digs deep its relentless claws; not until the darkest desire of your woefully senseless little heart grins with too-sharp teeth, raking and tearing until all that is left of your memory is a silent scream far beneath the waves.)

They are neither soft, nor subtle; as untameable as the sea and twice as cruel.

Hongjoong knows the stories. Has heard every variety across every port of call, in blustery taverns and on the deck of a galleon. He’s witnessed the far-away longing swirl in the depths of idealistic eyes, has heard the hushed whispers threaded with frissons of fear. You cannot answer the call of the sea without knowing even the smallest taste; merfolk are out there, and they yearn for nothing from you save the hunt.

His own call came in the form of an all-encompassing desire for freedom. To leave not-quite-home behind and forge a path uniquely his own, surrounded by his family of choice. To stand on a creaking ship and feel the wind, taste the salt-spray air. Chasing rumors and gold and living as he saw fit. 

(He’s one of the lucky ones. Too clever by half, good with a cutlass and better with words. He’d clawed from the mud and into the sun with nothing but his smarts, and a half dozen good men who believed in his madness.)

He belongs to the ocean; loves and reveres and respects her as she deserves. Life and death in equal measure, in the ever-changing grasp of a phenomena known to kill men like him with nary a whisper on the wind. There is nothing more beautiful, nothing more damning, than the song of the sea.

Hongjoong knows the stories. He finds himself lured by curiosity, nonetheless. 

---

He recognizes the signs; common on moonlit nights when the sea is calm and exhaustion weighs down your bones. Not quite ready to sleep, not when it’s you and the endless sea of stars and the gentle rock of the waves, steady as a heartbeat. The flash of scales just beneath the blue and black, too long and quick to be a fish. Perhaps an otherworldly whisper on the wind, teasing your senses until you’re drawn to the edge, squinting out at the darkness with hands gripping tight enough to the railing that the colour bleeds clean from your knuckles.

(Hongjoong belongs to the ocean. Has mastered her moods, scouted her waters and come out the victor. Surely, even this test he will pass.)

---

The night is calm, even if the crew is not. There is still celebration, still laughter and spilled rum staining the deck. They are victorious, and all the richer for their audacity. An imperial frigate given as offer to the sea, its cargo firmly in the hands of Captain Kim to spill across his crew until they’re drunk on their untouchability. 

He grins with them, laughs with them, and takes a sip for every flagon they empty, hawkish eyes ever on the horizon. 

Firelight flickers and paints the Treasure in gilded gold, a moonless night their companion as they crest gently over the waves of the southern reaches. Hongjoong leans against the portside railing, wide-brimmed hat tipped low over his brow and lazy grin painting his mouth. He watches silent as his men drink and dance and make merry, Jongho serenading them with his honey-sweet voice and Yunho nothing but bright grins as he stands tall, telling the story of how he’d bested the frigate’s bosun for the sixth time.

(They are home, and family; as surely as the sea that calls out to something buried within his blood.)

Still, he keeps a weather eye. Relaxed as he can force himself to be, as he allows his boys their joyful exuberance. And something tells him, with the hair that stands on the back of his neck, with the shiver running from his spine to his toes - turn around.

(Lured by curiosity, nonetheless.)

He looks, turns his head, just past his right shoulder. Off in the distance and off into the night, there is the flash of scales. Just beneath the depth of blue and black, the shadow passing beneath the waves too long and quick to be a fish.

There’s something in the water, Hongjoong thinks as the lazy grin he wears sharpens like the honed edge of a blade. He throws the last sips of his rum into the sea, watches how it drops like a slurry of rain for half a breath before it settles. A suitable enough offering to his mistress, a flash of humor twitching his smile as he adjusts his hat and reaches into a pocket for the tight and frayed balls of cotton he keeps on hand.

(They don't just sing, he’s been told; though their song is sweeter than the hymns of heaven. They speak, and they convince, and they smile with too-sharp teeth and weave their intricate falsities to drag you down and down and down until all that remains in the blessed quiet of the grave.)

Plugging his ears and taking a breath, he chances a glance at the crew; distracted, daring, they cajole and laugh and challenge one another to another game, another fight. There is joy in their blood, and when Hongjoong is satisfied they will not be taken from him this night, he turns back to watch the water.

And finds not the flash of scales, but a pale face watching him in turn.

Time comes to sudden and startling halt, as all sound and light falls away to nothing. Hongjoong goes utterly still in his boots, breath leaving him in a reedy little gust. He locks eyes with the creature, hand curling over the worn railing until his nails catch on an errant splinter and the shock of pain reminds him to breathe.

He is the night sky made manifest, as pretty and enticing as any treasure of glitter and gold. With milky skin and dark hair that sticks to his neck, falling down to his collarbones. Wide eyes, black as the deepest swirls of night; reflecting the stars on high in tiny pinpricks of silver light that Hongjoong can see even at a distance. And curling artfully over his exposed arms, decorating his naked chest - scales, of opalline silver. They curve over the delicate arch of his neck, follow the trail of high cheekbones and disappear beneath the fall of his hair.

He’s beautiful, like the sea at dusk. Just as dangerous, twice as cruel.

Those wide, dark eyes widen further, too big and bright like the oversized jewels dotted around a woman’s neck. Shell pink lips parting in surprise, before he disappears into the water with a flash of a tail the length of Hongjoong’s entire body, silver and sweet and gone in a breath.

It could have been a moment, it could have been an hour. It takes an hour more, regardless, for Hongjoong to prise his hands from the railing and finally turn his back to the waves. 

He tells no one, not wishing to worry nor entice any of the crew. Tells himself to forget, that it was nothing more than a reminder of the bewitching dangers of those ocean denizens that decry him worthy as carrion, without mercy nor warnings. And yet - it puzzles him, like a dream half-remembered. The creature had said nothing, done nothing. Hadn't drawn near, nor woven his song; and still Hongjoong is as unsettled as if he’d been lured by soft voice and softer hands.

Brow furrowing and deep in contemplation, all he remembers in the flash of silver is the queer taste of curiosity. A mystery wrapped in a fetching package; treasure yet to be claimed. 

---

The next time Hongjoong sees a flash of silver, he has bitten off more than he can chew.

The Treasure burns, flames eagerly licking up the mast to engulf the mainsail in a spectacular display that turns his heart to ice. It is chaos, utterly; shouting and screaming and the flash of steel in the blood-red sunset. Cannonfire bursts through the air until his ears ring with it, knuckles bleeding white where he grips, desperate to his cutlass and pistol. Bleeding lips split into a snarl, he can smell gunpowder and blood and he’s fairly certain Yeosang is already dead.

There’s no - time, not to consider or mourn or try and gather the shattered pieces of his dismal fucking legacy. His crew, his boys, his heart - they bare their teeth and fight to the last, clawing their way to a victory Hongjoong knows they won't reach.

Not this time.

The spray of the sea mixes with the blood that stains the deck, and he thinks for one quiet, hysterical moment that it’s all rather par for the course, isn't it? The salt in their blood and in the ocean waves is one and the same, and to the sea they will inevitably return. 

His vision wavers as he blocks the swing of an officer’s blade, only inches from his face. The fight is fierce, chest heaving from exertion as his boots slip in something slick and his spine slams against the railing of the quarterdeck. 

Disoriented, dizzy; Hongjoong blinks the sweat from his eyes and hears plain how his death knell rings - the thunder of a cannon, and the sickening crack that he knows deep in his bones surely must be the main mast. 

Time slows to a crawl, as he and the officer both look on in horror as the shrouds snap, one by graceless one. They are treated to the impossible sight of the fluttering sail, burning steadily and falling, nearly gently, as the mast begins to collapse. 

His ears still ring. The only sound breaking through the din is the steady and hurried thunder of his heart, its beats steadily counting down. He will die this day, at the hands of mortal men who hate him so, and not from the cold and welcome embrace of the tide. It surges the anger in his veins, righteous and furious to behold. Hongjoong drops his pistol, shot already fired and utterly useless, and grips tight to his blade with both hands to shove it through the spine of the officer who still watches, wide-eyed, as death descends upon them all in one fell swoop.

(Easily distracted. Worthless. Were he part of his crew, Hongjoong would have had him whipped to the bone.)

He nearly bisects the man in his fury, honed edge of his cutlass singing as it glides easily through muscle and bone. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Hongjoong thinks he might be screaming. They have taken his ship, his crew, his life. He will not go quiet. 

The worn and familiar wood of the deck lurches beneath his feet, but he cannot - look, cannot comprehend. Hongjoong instead blinks the tears from his eyes and looks to his men -

Finding nothing but blood and ash. There are shadows, and the spark of gunfire. Shouts and panic and chaos - the mast buckles one final time, and Hongjoong turns his face heavensward to watch the final fluttering fall of the black flag, sword slipping free of shaking fingers. 

And then - he is falling.

Something gripping tight to the back of his coat, and the world shifts on its axis as he tumbles gracelessly over the edge. Hongjoong hits the surface of the sea with wide eyes, with nary a moment to adjust before he is being yanked viciously away. Away, away from his ship, his crew. To run, to die apart from them -

Panic seizes his muscles as his eyes flash, teeth bared in a silent snarl. His breath expels in a flurry of bubbles that dance skyward and now, now there is little comfort to be found that at long last the sea has chosen to take him.

He remembers to move his arms, kick out his legs, fight, damn you -

Arms wrapping around him from behind, cowing and cradling and confining. The flash of silver, and whispered words pressed to the shell of his ear. 

“Peace,” the voice croons to him, something nearly aggrieved in the low intonation of his voice, making Hongjoong go still in the embrace of both deceptively strong arms and the crushing weight of the sea. The night sky made manifest, as pretty and enticing as any treasure of glitter and gold - cradling him and hushing him and the glide of opalline scales feels like heaven against Hongjoong’s battered and bruised flesh.

His hands twitch but he complies, chest tightening from the lack of air. His stomach lurches and the frigid water tears at his skin but he listens - the creature’s sweet-sounding voice dipping into his ears like honey. With every whispered word he relaxes, floating gently beneath the waves and able to do naught but watch as his world is torn asunder. 

The creature holds him in a bruising grip, not once relenting even as he swims gracefully to circle him. Long tail curling around Hongjoong’s legs, hair a darkened smudge as it floats eerily about his pointed ears. And those eyes, those eyes - they flash in the dark, greedily drinking every last shred of light and shining silver in the dark. 

He looks to Hongjoong like he is precious, like he is a naive boy easily lured by a song as sweet as sin. Hands moving to cup his cheeks, pointed claws at the tip of his fingers dragging over his skin until it burns.

“My treasure,” the creature whispers, the words muted but clear even through the water. He presses his mouth to Hongjoong’s, sweet as honeyed ale and very nearly shy. The gentle press of lips, tongue probing Hongjoong to open his mouth and the blessed touch of air fills his lungs; a gift from the curse-singing mouth of his dear and dreadful siren.

He pulls away to lock eyes, and though Hongjoong’s burn from the salt and the exertion still he watches, entranced, as the siren smiles prettily for him, long hair dancing in the waves and opalline scales catching the glow of the far-flung fire that burns his heart, far above on the surface. The light reaches for them, brightening the silt and painting his siren in gold, like the sea at dusk. 

Beautiful, Hongjoong thinks, even as the siren’s palms curve, soft as seafoam, over the sides of his neck. Keeping him steady and grounded, lips parting in a grin that does little to hide too-sharp teeth, ducking down until that sinful mouth full of the promise of death can press like a secret against the curve of Hongjoong’s cheek.

“My treasure,” the siren whispers once more, reverent and suffused with musical laughter. Hongjoong’s eyes close of their own volition, air leaving his lungs in a flurry of bubbles; body relaxing to rock with the waves. The last thing he hears is the low and beguiling timbre of his siren’s song, at last gracing his ears before he is pulled down

and down

The new toy you’d bought -a dildo thick and long enough to have a flush darken Hongjoong’s cheeks the moment he laid eyes on it- had been sitting like a promise in the top shelf of your closet, ready and waiting. It wasnt that your boyfriend wasnt willing to try it out, far from it; he wanted it badly enough that when you’d unwrapped that vulgar package he’d swallowed audibly and asked if he could clean and prep it for that evening, eager to try and push his limits in the attempt of fitting it inside his tight little cunt. 

Your reaction?

“Not yet,” you’d called to him from over your shoulder, heading to the closet to bury his newfound treasure, smirk curving your mouth and delight in your eyes. “I don't think you deserve it.”

What followed was nearly a week’s worth of testing self-restraint. Hongjoong, too stubborn to beg until you forced the words from a bruised throat; and you, barely able to get any work done thanks to the many fantasies playing out in your mind about what he’d look like stretched out and writhing on your strap. Would he cry? Maybe, but only after plucking at his nipples or eating his cunt just to the point of climax yet refusing to let him fall. He’d take your cock like he was born for it, no matter the size or the strain. Hungry little pussy always begging for more - you smiled into your morning coffee, thighs shifting together restlessly.

You broke first, if only to finally give your boy what he wants if not your own gratification. The house is empty after a long day, he’ll be home soon but for now - for now you get yourself ready. 

Your cunt is already slick and aching by the time you undress, fingers delving between silken folds in a tease that has your knees shaking and core knotting nicely. Pulling on the harness is second-nature by this point, fitting snug and comfortable around your hips and thighs; the toy you prepare lovingly, cleaning it with both hands before locking it over your groin and just looking down at it has your toes curling in anticipation. It’s nearly the length of your forearm and just as thick, an intimidating monster of a cock that you wonder with all sincerity whether it would even fit inside him. But even still you cannot wait to hear the sounds he’ll make when you fuck him dumb.

This is how he finds you; sitting with legs spread in the middle of the couch, fingers wrapped around the head of your cock and slowly jerking up and down, up and down. And Hongjoong drops his bag, eyes going wide before he rushes over to kneel at your feet, the utter sweetheart. You can practically see the hearts in his eyes when he rubs a palm over your naked thigh, looking up at you with unabashed lust filling his expression.

“Can I -?” He asks quietly, nodding to your cock as he tongues the rise of his upper lip, hands already going to the hem of his tee. He waits for your permission, fingers nervous and jilted as he refuses to already start begging. 

You wave a nonchalant hand, arms going to the back of the couch as you relax into it. “If you think you can,” you tell him, blase and uncaring and he practically moans at the challenge. Hongjoong disrobes quickly, tossing his clothes somewhere behind him before settling himself between your spread thighs.

His small hands roam over the flesh of your thighs, making your head tilt back with a lazy smile. You hear him take a breath, stuttering music to your ears, before he moves to grip the base of your cock with eager fingers. He cant even make it all the way around, you notice when you glance down, the sight of it making your cunt clench and a shiver run down your spine. But still he is eager - glancing up from beneath long lashes before he leans forward to wrap his lips around the tip. You cannot feel it, feel him - but still you moan for him, deep in your chest, when you see the way he struggles already to open wide enough to fit you in his mouth. 

It’s obscene, the stretch of his mouth and the sounds he makes. Desperate and keening with lashes fluttering closed, he gags a few inches in when spit pools in his mouth to compete with your cock. It drools past his lips, slicks his chin; he swallows around you, throat working hard and jaw already becoming sore. He turns his head until the tip of your cock distends his cheek, vulgar and erotic and you thank your lucky stars the cock isn't real for surely you’d be spilling down his throat already at the sight. Hongjoong makes it a couple more inches before tears fill his eyes and his throat convulses, and your once-gentle hand snaps forward to bury in his hair and drag him off your cock.

His face is red as he sucks in mouthfuls of air, face shining as much as your cock from his efforts. But his grin is depraved - wide and wicked as he goes back for more. Soaking your cock and making it halfway down the length before he gasps out another breath and pulls himself away. The shaft is drenched, spilling onto your thigh and his expression is so impossibly hungry for more you think he could come from a single touch to his cunt. 

Your hand yanks on his hair once more, pulling him up until your mouth can come down over his. It’s wet enough that your lips slide and teeth clack together, but still you shove your tongue into his mouth to better taste his desperation, swallowing down his pitched moan and smiling into the kiss when you feel him straddle your lap. Your cock is trapped between you, a wet drag on your stomach and you break the kiss to chance a glance down to find - oh.

The tip of your cock brushes his navel, and you can feel him go utterly still atop you when he notices. The air between you is stifling, heavy with anticipation - Hongjoong gives a shuddering breath, looking up to catch your eye and says in a sure, desperate voice, “Please.”

You kiss him again for good measure, fingers knotted in his hair until he moans prettily for you. You level a slap to the side of his ass before pressing one thigh up until it grazes over his bare cunt, wet and wanting. “Go ahead,” you whisper against his mouth, bouncing your leg to sear pressure against his clit and grinning when he gasps.

Hongjoong moves himself to perch upon your thigh, pretty pussy rubbing over the rise of muscle until you can practically feel every clench. He settles quickly, arms behind him to grip tight to your knee for leverage. His blunt nails sink into your skin when he arches his back, hips grinding down to chase his pleasure on your so lovingly offered gift. 

He rides you fast, too eager by half; but the sight of his flushed face and furrowed brows sears upon your mind regardless. He’s gone pink from his ears to his nipples, small tits bouncing each time he thrusts himself forward on your thigh. Grinding his cunt unashamedly, nipples pert and begging for attention whilst he soaks your skin with spilled arousal. Your hands move until you can pinch his nipples, tugging him forward each time he goes back, earning a higher-pitched keen from behind his clenched teeth. Head thrown back, his tits go red from your affections when you level a single slap against the dark areola for the simple pleasure of hearing him whine. 

You can tell he gets close when his noises become louder, breath coming faster with little ah-ah-ah ’s spilling from his mouth. His lips part and you can feel the clenching of his cunt, heavy and hot on your skin. He’s entrancing, when all decorum is thrown to the wind and he simply allows himself to feel it; flushed and lovely and already on the cusp of begging for your cock. Your mercy only extends so far, however; your palms find his hips and you cradle him reverently even as you stop his motions. Thumbs tracing idle patterns, you lean forward until you can press your mouth to the center of his chest.

“Good boy,” you tell him, delighting in the way he shivers from head to foot at the praise. One of your hands snakes down to his spread thighs, fingernails a teasing trail that makes him shift and moan. You find his cunt, fingers delving between thick, soaked hair and silken folds; wedging your hand beneath him you circle his slick entrance before shoving two fingers deep, right to the knuckle.

Hongjoong keens, back arching at the intrusion; his breath is panting, small reverent whisper of jagiya slipping past bitten lips. Your heart swells at the utterance, smile shifting to something softer before turning your wrist to fuck him with your fingers.

You work up to four before his wet and panting breaths dampen your neck, back bowed forward and his nails scoring down your back. You keep him steady as he grinds on your hand, fingers curling to push into his sweet spot until he soaks your wrist. Face buried beneath your jaw, you can feel Hongjoong’s tears each and every time you spread your fingers the barest inch, stretching him lovingly. 

“Ready for me?” You whisper against his sweat-dampened hair, thumb swirling over his swollen clit until he clenches around you. His nod is eager, wordless; hips rolling to take your fingers deeper before he shifts up onto unsteady knees. He kneels above you, resplendent and lovely; you extricate yourself from his dripping cunt, wet fingers plucking at one of his nipples whilst your free hand grips tight to the base of your cock. 

You’d almost forgotten how thick it was. Hongjoong shifts his weight, straddles your lap with knees bracketing your hips - uses one hand to spread himself open, cute pussy on vulgar display when he tilts his groin forward. You can see the way he pulses, hole loose and shining and clenching achingly around nothing. Your moan is loud to your own ears, hands gripping to his trim waist when he finds the right angle and begins to lower himself down.

The thick cockhead catches on the rim of his cunt and he goes stock-still, feeling the flared and rounded tip breach him. He takes a breath and you have to stop yourself from pulling him down - forcing your cock as deep as his pussy allows and kissing away the tears that would surely spill. Still - you allow him the time to adjust. Hongjoong sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, eyes closed in bliss as he slowly, so so slowly, takes you inside him. 

He gasps at the first inch, cockhead stretching his entrance and making him arch. His chest heaves from the effort, cunt pulsing and clenching hard around your cock even as he wills himself to relax. Stubborn in spades. You slip further into him after a heartbeat or three, head of your cock finally buried deep in his heat. He works himself down slowly, aware of his limits even as he tests them; halfway done has his breath gone ragged, stuttering and loud. He pulls up an inch or two to better adjust, to soak your cock with his arousal and make the going easier. Your eyes are locked on where you disappear inside him, hand moving until you can thumb at his clit.

He shudders, rocking forward and sliding down further. More than halfway and he’s letting out a high moan, thighs tensing and muscles twitching. He’s coming, you realize with a slowly unfurling grin, laughter bubbling from your lips. Fucked out and ready to pass out in your lap, and your cock is halfway in. Your own cunt floods at the realization, rocking him through his climax with gentle shifting hips to thrust your cock shallow and slow into his cunt. 

He’s tighter after he comes, when you’ve spent an hour between his thighs and used fingers and tongue to bring him to the brink. Sucking you in deeper even as he twitches at the overstimulation - he’s tighter after he comes, but still he slides down the final couple of inches until your cock is nestled snug within his deepest reaches.

His mouth drops open and his entire body shudders, hips rocking forward and back in jerky and uneven motions. “How’s it feel?” You ask him, palm gentle over the swell of his ass before you grab a handful to drag him forward and back, grinding in your lap and making him moan. 

“Full,” he croons, “so full I cant - it’s so good, jagi.” His words are slurred and he downright giggles when he finds the strength to lift his weight, pulling off your cock before dropping right back down. Your answering grin is delighted when he begins to fuck himself slowly, lazily, on your thick cock; when you glance down you can see through wide and lust-filled eyes the way his stomach bulges, just a little, each time he takes you to the root.

He’s always been small, you don't know why it surprises you to see. It does, however, make you thrust your hips up and fuck him in earnest if only to see him so utterly ruined.

He comes once more from bouncing on your cock, your nails pinching and pulling on his nipples or swirling over his clit until he soaks your thighs. He’s a vision; cockdrunk and slurring petnames and thanks and pleas - whispered and reverant or hoarse from tears. You bruise his tits, take handfuls of his ass, and hold him up when he sags in your embrace.

“No, jagiya,” you tell him sweetly, pushing the hair from his hazy eyes before cupping his face lovingly. Your thumb sweeps over the rise of his cheekbone, and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “We’re not done yet.” 

The effort was worth it; red rope coiled and twisted around lithe limbs, arms pulled above his head with elbows bent and hands on the back of his neck until he is arched like a cat, body on languid display with chest out and knees spread. The lines and bights dig into his skin, just enough to hold him steady. The restriction and heady combination of pleasure-pain makes him dizzy, pulse soaring until his still-clothed cock leaks to stain the fabric of his panties.

You run your knuckles slowly over his arm, tracing his angles and dancing tantalizing fingertips over silk-soft skin and the rise of rope. Seonghwa shudders with his next breath, lashes fluttering closed at the barely-there sensation of your touch. Your smile is sweet, your touch indulgent; nails dragging across his bicep, fingers pausing at the bend of his elbow. The press of your nails teasing at the delicate skin of his tied wrists, and you can tell it takes every ounce of effort he has to keep himself still. Situated, silent, settled; Seonghwa shifts on spread knees, chest arching out and fingers twitching as though he wishes to chase your touch, were he not so woefully constrained; he threatens to fold even still when you breath out the smallest huff of laughter, chiming like a bell across the naked curve of his shoulder.

You take to your knees beside him, hardwood biting into your naked skin as you finger the false cock strapped over your groin. Breath turning ragged as you tug on the cups of his bralette, folding the fabric and shoving it down until a dark areola is on display. Your mouth sears over his nipple, tongue flicking out to trace the hardened bud until his sigh sings across the room, head tilting back as much as his arms allow. He swallows through the sensation, hips thrusting forward instinctively, cock throbbing. You smile into his skin, lingerie dragging on your cheek when you suck and nip at his nipple until he’s pink and panting. 

He smells like strawberries and sweat, hypnotic to your senses; your hands drag until you can cup his trim waist in your palms and give a healthy squeeze. Soft and fluid as warm water, he shivers beneath your touch and lets slip a low moan from between bitten lips. Your mouth trails over his pec, marking his skin with teeth and tongue as you map his chest at your whim. Sucking a bruise around his nipple, red-rimmed bites of affection over the gentle rise of plush skin. Your kisses are lazy, tongue dipping out to trace the line of his collarbone; by the time you make it to his shoulder his skin shines in the low light. On wanton display, a feast for your eyes alone. 

Nose buried in his neck, his loose hair brushing over your cheek as your eyes flutter closed and you can press a kiss against the thrum of his pulse-point. He tastes like home, like something buttery and sweet as a pastry you look forward to eating after a long day. A reward, for hard work and effort; an appreciation for something lovely and all yours to unravel as you see fit.

Your hand moves to flatten over the rise of his erection, still lovingly wrapped in pale silk. Seonghwa keens beneath your touch, back arching and lips parting until he can gasp out an approximation of your name. His cock is hard as iron, leaking through the fabric until it is tacky and sticking to the flat of your palm; biting your bottom lip to keep your delight quiet, you grind your hand over him until his thighs are twitching and his hips jerking forward, chasing your ardent touch and begging with small moans to keep touching him.

You trace lazy kisses over his neck and shoulder, tasting his sweat as you lean into him. Traveling to his uplifted arm, nose brushing the line of his tricep. Face buried in the elegant curve of his underarm, your eyes close in bliss as you inhale deep of his natural musk. His pit is smoother than silk, dappled with the tinge of sweat to give the perfect glide of skin-on-skin. Your tongue dips out to trace his curves and angles, licking a stripe up his pit and arm. Seonghwa gasps, cock throbbing beneath your hand. He tastes like salt and longing, skin smooth beneath your parted lips as your tongue drags wet and languid to worship. 

His smell invades your senses as you lick and suck and inhale, breath coming faster with every pass. Your hand grinds harder on his cock, working him up to panting out gasping breaths with every clever tease of your eager mouth. Tongueing at his armpit until he is slick and desperate, flushing right down to his nipples with face afire and lust addling his hazy senses. You suck another bruise into the impossibly soft skin, grinning when his cock throbs and jumps beneath your touch. 

Forcing yourself to unsteady legs is a feat in and of itself; Seonghwa gives a pathetic whine at the loss of contact, one you stifle with a hand fisted in his hair and your strap shoved between bitten lips. He only gags a little, swallowing around the intrusion and plucking a moan from your mouth. You fuck his mouth shallow, affording him time to adjust or too impatient by half. His throat relaxes and he gazes fervent from beneath a smudge of dark lashes, eyes locked on your face as he swallows your shaft. Soaks it until the toy shines, spit drooling from his lips until his chin is soaked and your legs tremble from arousal at the sight.

He keeps his eyes on yours when you slip from his mouth, fingers loosening in his hair to give an affectionate rub of his crown. You stand with legs spread, knees bending until you find the angle; fingers wrapping around one of his bound wrists, moving him to lean to the side until you can slide the wet head of your strap into his underarm. You watch, transfixed, as you fuck the soft give of skin, cock fucking obscenely against his pit. The tip nudges the top of his arm, the shine of his own spit soaking his pit making your toes curl. Your hips thrust lazily, still holding him aloft even as you fuck his armpit in jerky shifts that has your mouth drying out. It makes him writhe, back arching and cock twitching; his lips are swollen, bitten red and still he watches you with naked lust coloring his expression.

You move to stand in front of him, shoving your cock back against his pit. Fucking him like a sleeve, watching the way your shaft glides cleanly against his skin. It is dizzying, as Seonghwa watches you with wide, wet eyes; hips thrusting up into empty air and soft noises leaving his throat. You find your mercy, foot lifting until you can step softly over the rise of his clothed erection. The effect is instantaneous; Seonghwa’s back arches and he shudders out a gasping breath, cock twitching beneath your sole. Your smile grows wider, fucking harder against his pit and wishing you could bury your tongue in his throat to better taste his desperation.