#maniacally

in the last week, i saw the giant snapper that rules the bull sluice. i ate fried chicken and seven-up cake, homemade pulled pork nachos, and waffle house. i went to the parade with both of my kids for the first time in a decade. i talked to a good friend on the phone for hours. i laughed so much. i made a delicious pot of very angry beans. i slept with my windows open for the first time since spring, and i drank coffee on my cool breezy porch

it's been a very good week

(oh yeah, and i learned a thing about myself that folks have been telling me since i was sixteen, but i finally heard them, and i am still laughing about it)

san runs a hand over the bare skin of your shoulders, sweeping the blanket draped around them out of the way as he lowers himself to kiss between your shoulder blades. he’s deceptively sweet in this moment, a breath of peace and a false sense of security before the roughness comes, and you catch yourself thinking of hongjoong in that moment.

of your husband and the way he sinks his weight against yours in this very bed, arms around your waist and pulling you closer for lazy morning kisses and passionate rounds of love-making in the early hours.

it’s not a question of whether you love him or not — you think it’s impossible not to love a man like kim hongjoong, just as it’s impossible to resist the charms of a man like choi san. and sure it’s not the latter’s fault entirely that the two of you do this, but in all your efforts to find the reason why you keep being drawn back to this, you can only presume it’s because of choi san and the attraction he provides. the willingness and eagerness to give you things you haven’t had before and don’t get from hongjoong.

“you’re thinking too hard.” san dips his lips closer to your neck, nipping at the skin there until your gut flares with panic that he might leave marks. “am i not good enough for you anymore?”

“no, no. you are,” you insist as you turn over to get a better look at the man pressing you to the bed. he huffs air through his teeth, either unimpressed by your answer or entirely unbelieving. “sannie, you’re — please, can we continue?” san’s teeth graze a little harder over your skin, a nick and a mark that will surely stain into a bruise.

“sannie,” he echoes back, and there’s a slight edge to his tone that reads annoyance. “how can you sound so innocent doing such filthy things? is that how you sound when hongjoong is fucking you?”

“what’s gotte—”

“joongie. joongie, i love you,” he mocks into the shell of your ear, and you push your face into the mattress with a shake of your head.

“san, we don’t have time,” you mutter over your shoulder. the man understands the need for urgency in the very least, leaning to the side to pick up the lube left there. you’re clambering to grab hold of him when he swats your searching hands away from his body.

“want you against the mirror, baby, can you do that for me?”

the exhale you give is quiet. perhaps you should be surprised that he would ask for this, or even hate the notion of such an idea, but you don’t. you aren’t one to deny san much anyway, not that you would ever want to. which is why you pull yourself off the bed, slipping out from under his body to steady yourself on solid ground and step over to the mirror covering your closet door. there’s a bit of hesitance in getting to your knees before the glass, especially as your eyes trail over your reflection and at your own eyes. it’s a searching gaze, one that begs to understand why you’re doing this again, even after you promised last time would be the final time.

san appears over your shoulder, and his fingers slip down to your ass and press against the end of the plug he put inside you earlier. you jolt a little with the contact, falling forward enough to nearly knock your face against the mirror.

“look at you,” he murmurs, eyes wandering over your reflection as he drops his lips to your neck. his wet tongue works over your skin with little purpose.

“san…”

“i know, i know.” he withdraws with a sigh and moves his hands to your shoulders. it’s with a gentle pressure that he urges you to your knees, and now you do so without the hesitation from before. it’s only when you’re on your knees that san grabs your hair, a fistful of it from the top of your head, and he rolls your head from side to side like you’re nothing but a ragdoll under his touch. “i want more time with you, y/n.”

“he doesn’t leave for his trip until next tuesday.” yet another confirmation that this won’t be the last, no matter how much logic and reason scream at you to stop this once and for all.

“then i’ll keep your bed warm the entire time he’s gone.” san tugs your hair enough for your neck to crane back. your eyes flit up to meet his, the upside-down view slightly dizzying at this angle. there’s too much affection in his eyes, you think. you’d say it’s finally gone too far, but that line was crossed a long time ago.

san eases himself to his knees behind you, taking your hips into his grasp and pulling you a little further from the mirror. when his fingers close around the plug nestled between your cheeks, you brace your balled fists against the mirror. the glass is cold when your cheek squishes against it. for a moment, you feel nothing else and all you hear is the click and snap of the lube cap before san’s hands return to gripping your hips with a bruising force.

“you’re so filthy for taking another man’s cock up your ass bare like this,” he hisses against the shell of your ear. the tip of his member teases your puckered hole, but there’s not enough force for him to breach you yet, even with your body trying to bring him closer. despite the venom dripping from san’s tone, you know he’s giving you an out if you truly want it — a chance to tell him no, get the condom, don’t fuck me without one — but your lower lip stays sucked between your teeth as you push your hips back against his dick.

“fuck me, already.”

“eager much?” san heeds your words anyway and pushes his hips further against your ass until his cock head breaches your ass and starts a smooth glide into you. he’s used an obscene amount of lube to prep you, and you can hear the squelch around his member like it’s wet enough to be your pussy. “so eager to have me inside you. raw and unprotected? should’ve just asked me to fuck your cunt, baby girl.”

your fists clench and unclench where they lie on the mirror. san snakes a hand up your spine, leaving a rush of goosebumps in his wake before he takes hold of your hair again. you’re pulled away from the glass a moment later but you don’t even have a chance to complain about the painful angle on your back when san grips your chin with his other hand and shoves to fingers over your tongue. your gag reflex protests endlessly as you choke around his digits, saliva dripping out one corner of your mouth as he leans over your face as best he can. there’s a split second where your gazes simply lock and nothing else happens — his cock halfway buried in your ass, your muscles trembling with the strain, and his hands keeping you firmly in place for him. then you watch with too much arousal twisting in your gut as a line of spit slowly drips from his full lips into your waiting mouth. it’s filthy and disgusting, another tally on the wall of questionable things you’ve done, but when he snaps your lips shut and tells you to swallow it all, you do so without any fight.

the shame and humiliation of it burn when the spit goes down your throat, and before you can tuck your face out of sight, san is holding your head firmly once more and angling you towards the mirror.

“look at yourself, angel.” you don’t need to see yourself to know how debauched you appear in the mirror. but again, there’s very little you wouldn’t do for san, so you stare forward at that sweating, drooling mess of a reflection when he tells you to. “god, you’re so fucking pretty like this. slobbering for my fingers and spit. does hongjoong not do this for you? does he not know what you like?”

“h-he does,” you argue, interrupted by the sensation of san’s cock shallowly thrusting into you.

“so he spits on you?”

“n-no.”

“chokes you on his fingers?”

“no…”

“fucks your pretty ass open like this?”

“san, san, no, he doesn’t, okay i—”

“then who fucks you properly?” san interjects, thrusting his hips harder against your ass until you’re whining into the glass before you. your breath fogs the mirror, harsh pants of breath that come with your moans as san fucks his length into you with reckless abandon. “who fucks you the way you deserve to be fucked? how you ought to be fucked?”

“y-you, you, only you!” san laughs between a litany of groans, sound breaking with his own exertion. if you look past your own reflection you can see his — the sweat on his brow, the tight draw between his brows, how his sharp eyes stare right back at you with so much lust and desire that his pupils nearly fill his whole iris. as always, these dances with san leave you lightheaded, and it’s not simply the overdose of sensations your body is going through. though when he reaches around your stomach and dips a hand down towards your cunt, your body does suffer another overstimulation of the senses because of how roughly he rubs at your clit. it’s enough to make you writhe against him, a sweetly painful pleasure that you want more of. you want your orgasm to crash over you now so you can feel the delicious euphoria that comes after when he fucks you through it, even if it’s not in your pussy this time. the drag of his cock inside your ass is something new, something foreign but addictive, and you aren’t sure you’ll ever ask for it any other way again now that you’ve tasted the feel of him fucking you raw.

“only me,” san all but growls, and you clench hard around. “i should fuck your cunt instead. fill you up with my cum and leave you dripping with it for hongjoong to find. or maybe he wouldn’t even know? does he even look? maybe he’d fuck you with my cum still inside you and not even know the difference. how fucking good would that be?” the man behind you laughs more to himself than to you, and you squeeze your eyes shut as your brain struggles to process the words. you know he won’t do it but some part of you clings to those words and imagines the scenario he’s placed before you for far longer than you should.

“wanna cum, sannie, please, m-make me cum.”

“asking so nicely, you’re so good.” the praise makes your hips stutter, and san simply forces you back with his fingers still pressed to your clit. that added pressure is what sends you to the precipice, then the next roll of his wrist makes you tumble over it with a moan so loud it must sound like a scream in san’s ears. his praises don’t stop, nor does the jerky thrusts of his hips as he fights to reach his own high. “that’s it, baby, cum around me, cum on my fingers like that, you’re so good.” you feel him trying to slip free of your ass, but you rush to reach behind your back and stop him.

“in me, please, please cum in me, we can clean it later, just — just need you in me, san, please,” you beg. frankly, there’s no shame left in your bones to stop you from begging more, but you don’t need to beg further than that because san is burying his cock back inside your ass and spilling his seed into you without hesitation the second you ask for it.

“fuck, fucking shit, y/n, where the hell did that come from?” he whines into the back of your neck, cock still twitching inside you even as he speaks.

“ask me later when i’m not fucked senseless.”

san manages nothing more than a weak chuckle, lips tracing along the top of your shoulder before he pushes his chin onto your shoulder. the gaze he gives you as his eyes find yours once more is far too soft to be natural for the two of you, but you can blame it on post-sex exertion. you have to before things fall further apart.

“hey, y/n sweetie, i’m home!”