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On some level, you know tonight is about letting go, about relinquishing control and trusting him, but you can’t really imagine what it will be like. It’s about trust, trusting the other person to stay within your preset boundaries and take what they want while satisfying you as well. The knowledge that the scene is set, the guardrails are in place, and both parties know when to say stop. This is what leaves you trembling on Seonghwa’s doorstep afraid to ring the bell. Discussing everything in detail is one thing, but doing it is another. He made you feel safe, always, as a friend and as a sometimes-casual lover, but opening yourselves up further was new.
You smooth your hands down the front of your skirt, shifting in your unfamiliar high heels and gripping the leather strap of your bag firmly. He had asked you to look a particular way, and of course you obliged. This is the easy part of the evening, something that still feels within your control and like the play acting you had done with him before. Taking a deep breath, you steady your nerves and ring the doorbell.
It takes a moment, and you bounce a little in your heels anxiously, before you see his shadow in the frosted glass of the window. He swings open the door and gives you a warm smile, “Hello, love,”
Your body melts, anxiety easing away instantly once you’re actually in front of him. “Hey,” you reply.
His eyes flick over you, taking in your attire, “You look perfect,”
“It’s what you wanted?” You ask, smoothing back your hair a bit where it rests in a high sleek ponytail.
He waves you in over the threshold and reaches to take your coat and bag, ready to hang them up on their designated hook by the door, “Exactly what I pictured.”
His low pleased voice sends a chill across your spine. He closes the door behind you, and you take a moment to relax into his space, tidy and organized as always, a pleasant smell of fresh laundry and lavender. When you turn to look at him again you take in his attire, he’s wearing a crisp black suit, perfectly tailored to his long lean lines. A black tie is expertly tied, secured with a silver tie pin to his clean white shirt. His hair, dark black and pushed back lets you really see his face today and admire his slightly sun kissed tan.
He gives you a warm, close-lipped smile and cocks his head to the side, “You seem a bit nervous today,” he observes.
“A little,” you confess, always keeping things honest with him, especially before a scene.
He reaches a handout to you, “Let’s relax for a while, then. Maybe some wine?”
You take his hand and let him lead you into the large, sleek kitchen at the far side of the house. “How has your week been?” he asks, pulling a bottle of red wine off the rack that hangs suspended under the cabinets.
“Busy,” you sigh, leaning against the granite countertop of the island and watching him as he moves through the kitchen to secure some glasses.
“Ah,” he nods, “so a stressful week?”
You nod, his eyes flicking up to see your response while he pours the first glass of wine, turning the bottle with a smooth motion of his wrist to stop the pour at just the right moment.
He sets two evenly poured glasses on the counter and slides one a little closer to you. “Let it breathe a moment,” he notes and then continues, “well, hopefully this weekend will help relieve some of your tension.”
You smile, a little blush heating your cheeks, “I’ve been looking forward to it all week.”
“Have you?” He’s pleased, leaning against the counter with his hip, his eyes studying you.
“I always enjoy seeing you,”
“Mm,” he nods.
“How about you, how was your week?” You shift the conversation away from the innuendo.
“Productive,” he says, “but I’ve been looking forward to this too.”
He takes his wine glass up off the counter and nods towards yours, indicating that you can drink should you want to. You lift the glass eagerly, taking a long sip and letting the sharp warm flavor of the cabernet wash through you. Seonghwa takes the smallest sip, preferring to keep a clear head for any of your interactions, but keeping you comfortable and pretending to drink with you.
“Are there any alterations to what we discussed?” He asks, “Anything you want to take back off the table?”
You shake your head immediately, “No,” your mind flicks back to your week long text message exchange discussing the logistics of this weekend. Which of his fantasies you were going to newly engage with, which of yours. A detailed discussion of positions, props, and a confirmation of your safe words and the rules.
“Good,” he smiles, “that’s good,”
You take another sip of wine, “Seonghwa,”
“Yes?”
“Are you sure you don’t mind me staying the night?” It’s something you had never done before. Typically, the evenings would end, he would spend at least an hour making sure you were comfortable and decompressed from the scene, and then he would clean you up and put you in a paid for taxi. This would be the first time you’re staying.
“It’s fairly essential to our plans for tomorrow,” he laughs.
“I know,” you brush his comment off, “but I know you value your space. I just wanted to ask you before we started if you’re sure about it, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable either.”
He moves to your side, taking your free hand in his and giving you a little squeeze, “I appreciate that, love, but I’m not uncomfortable. I’m going to enjoy having you here all night,”
“Oh,” you can’t help the blush that creeps up again, the effect this man has on you with just a sharp look of his eyes or the touch of his skin.
“It’s better to keep things contained to the scene,” he says, and his voice shifts a little lower into a familiar tone, “but tomorrow is part of that, and I think after months of you being a such a good girl for me, I’d be more than pleased to give you what you want too.”
You swallow tightly, crossing your legs in the seat which does not go unnoticed by him, “Thank you,”
He nods, slow, reaching forward and brushing his delicate fingers along the side of your jaw, your cheek, running the pad of his thumb across the plush skin of your closed lips. You sigh, pleasantly and he leans over you to capture your lips in a gentle kiss.
When he pulls back and gives you a few feet of space, you reach for your wine again and watch as he politely takes another minute sip of his.
“When you’re ready,” he lets you know, “we’ll start with something familiar.”
His words from a moment ago have you tense, ready to see where the night goes. Your brain involuntarily flicks through the catalogue of things you’ve agreed on for the weekend and you swallow tightly before nodding, “I am,”
He gives you a final smile, reaching for your now empty wine glass. He pours his out before rinsing out both glasses and leaving them to the side. You know he’ll come down later and scrub them clean, but for now he seems anxious to get started and to not ruin the cuffs of his suit.
“Darling,” he says, his voice dropped into the register he favors for his harder scenes. He dries off his hands on a hand towel and turns fully towards you, “have you broken any rules this week?”
Your stomach drops, an immediate hot flush running through you. You know exactly where he plans to start things now, and you’re suddenly vibrating with anticipation. He makes it easy to lose yourself in these scenarios, and you move out of your chair to stand at the island across from him and meet his eyes, “I have, sir.”
The corner of his lip quirks into a small smile. He sets the hand towel aside neatly and rounds the island, stepping close into your space so that your back is pressed against the lip of the counter. “How many rules?”
“Just one, sir.” It was the important one though, and you know when he hears which one you’ll be in for it.
He reaches out a hand, pressing flush against your lower stomach and pressing down, “Which rule?”
“Self-pleasure, sir.” His hand against the fabric of your tight skirt has you hot already, the feeling possessive, claiming.
He shakes his head, disappointed, “How many times?”
“Just once,”
“What day?” He questions.
“Thursday,”
He clicks his tongue, irritated, “You couldn’t make it one more day? Were you that desperate?”
You nod, your hands gripping the countertop behind you.
“Tell me what you’ve earned, love.” He shifts his hand to cup your hip.
“Ten, sir.” You respond instantly, this dance a familiar one.
“Fifteen,” he shakes his head and when he sees your eyes widen, he smiles, “I’m in a giving mood.”
“Yes, sir.”
He steps away from you, taking you by the wrist and heading towards the stairs. You trail behind him, and he never once looks back to you, simply holds you tight and expecting you to keep pace with him. When you cross the threshold of his familiar bedroom, you blanch. He had prepared.
The bed, which is normally made up and fresh, looking like a hotel, is stripped bare, only the fitted sheet remaining. The rest of the blankets and bedding are folded neatly and stacked in a chair to the side, so you know he intends to make the bed before the night is over. Laid across his side are his plans for the evening, neatly presented and ready for you. Your eyes run across each of them and your body tenses at the unexpected.
Seonghwa doesn’t pause though, he simply takes his seat at the tufted bench at the foot of the bed and looks up at you. He opens his legs wider and taps his knee. This is a favorite of both of yours, something you know well, and you step forwards with every intention of dropping yourself over his knee.
“Wait,” he stops you suddenly and you freeze. He glances over you and reaches out, sliding his fingers under the hem of your skirt and dragging your tight powder blue pencil skirt up and over your hips. It rests up and over them like a cumbersome belt, but it leaves you exposed to him in just the way he likes. He taps his knee again, and you move over him.
You position yourself with your lower stomach and hips across his thigh, resting your chest on the plush mattress facing the head of the bed.
His hand drops, resting warmly on the smooth skin of your ass, palming you firmly and watching your skin redden under his touch. “Count,” he says simply, and before you can manage to say anything, his hand lifts and descends, delivering a harsh slap to your backside.
You jolt, the first hit always a surprise and you stutter out, “One,”
His fingers massage your skin again before he cracks his palm against you again.
“Two,”
By the fifth spank you can feel yourself growing slick and needy. He rests his other hand on the small of your back, stroking you softly, before delivering another blow.
“Six!” The sting rings through your tender skin, goosebumps erupting across you and you’re sure that both of your ass cheeks are red and starting to look a little swollen.
“That’s a good girl,” he hums, “always so attentive.”
Another sharp spank, “Seven,” and another, “eight, eight!”
His hand coasts down the backs of your thighs, squeezing you here too and feeling the way you jerk under his ministrations. After two more you’re panting, used to this being your stopping point, or at least a pause.
“Can you take a little more for me?” He murmurs low.
“Yes, sir,” you answer immediately, coming up on your forearms and bracing yourself.
“So eager,” he hums, and you can hear the smile in his voice. He hooks a finger under the back of your thong and pulls it up, maneuvering the fabric to the side of your wet slit, but he doesn’t touch you yet.
You bite back a plea for him to touch you, knowing it would only make him tease you longer. You dip your head down into the mattress and wait, trembling. He delivers a harsh slap, but instead of massaging the area of his hit, he sinks a finger deep into your wet heat.
You choke out a moan into the bedding, your fingers tightening, finding nothing to really grip onto. He pumps his finger, “Did you forget your words?”
“Eleven!” you cry, straining your hips back to meet the thrusts of his finger even though you know you shouldn’t.
He locks an arm down across your lower back to steady you, removing his finger and delivering two harsh, punishing spanks that elicit a startled yelp, “Settle down,” he directs.
“I’m sorry, sir,” you manage, “twelve, thirteen.”
He gently squeezes you, a little praise in this moment of tenderness before he dips two fingers inside you. Holding you locked against his knee he works his fingers inside you, pressing against the front wall of your channel and fractionally picking up the pace. You groan into the mattress and your fingers flex tighter, but you don’t dare move your hips.
“Two more,” he soothes you, “you can take two more.”
His fingers slide out, his hand comes down, harder than before and springing tears to your eyes.
“Four-fourteen,” you pant.
“And this?” He strikes you again and you shake against him.
“Fifteen, sir,”
“Very good,” his voice softens, and his hand massages your backside gently, sweeping his hand over your reddened skin softly and soothingly. “Come here,” he hooks his hands under you and starts to help you stand up off his knee.
Standing again, your legs tremble, your footing unsure, and he keeps a hand locked on your bare hip. Cool air crosses over your raw skin and you let out a shaky breath.
“You did very well,” he murmurs, reaching around you to locate the zipper of your skirt and open it up fully so he can shift the skirt down and off you now. When the rough fabric passes over your sensitive skin you let out a soft whimper, and he pauses, looking up to your eyes. He reaches up and cups your face softly, silently checking in, and you give him a small nod that he can continue, you’re just fine.
He’s a little more careful removing your skirt, but he finishes sliding it over your legs and helps you step out of it with a hand securing your forearm as he maneuvers you. He draws your hand up his arm to rest on his shoulder, pressing your hand a little so you respond to grip him more firmly to steady yourself. His fingers hook under the edges of your underwear, and he drags them down, lifting the fabric cleanly away from the raw skin of your backside to not irritate you again.
“Now,” he says, “be a good pet and get on your knees.”
You kneel immediately, using your hand on his shoulder to stay steady, but once on your knees with your feet neatly tucked under you, you move your hands to your lap and wait for his instructions. He looks you over for a moment before he repositions himself, sitting now to face you directly and planting a foot on either side of you. You know better than to assume what he wants, so you wait.
Seonghwa reaches out and touches the looped tie at the front of your sheer white blouse, he runs the fabric through his fingers and gives you a soft smile, “Should I unwrap my present?”
Your muscles clench around nothing at his words, “Please,”
“Please what?” his hand stills.
“Please, sir,” you correct yourself.
He tugs downwards and the tie comes free under his hands, parting to reveal the smooth skin of your throat and collarbones. He sighs, nodding to himself. “Hands, please,” he asks and you raise both to him. With nimble fingers he quickly unbuttons the three covered buttons on each wrist and lifts the shirt over your head carefully to toss it aside by your skirt. You’re left in nothing but a powder blue bra, intentionally selected to match the skirt and he hums pleasantly, “Pretty baby,”
You shiver at his words, staring up at him expectantly.
He reaches back and grabs something from the bed before turning to you. In his hands he holds a black blindfold. It looks more like a sleep mask, made to intentionally cover your eyes and obscure your vision from top to bottom to periphery. “Alright,” he says, “put your hands away.”
You tuck your hands under your thighs and sit back down, in this position your fingers are sandwiched between your calves and your thighs, intentionally keeping them unavailable and secured. Seonghwa reaches around you, threading your ponytail through the blindfold before settling it over you, leaving it for now on your forehead so he can continue looking into your eyes. “Tell me your colors, darling. Red,” he prompts you.
“Stop,” you reply.
“Yellow?”
“Slow down.”
“Green?”
“Go, everything’s good,” you nod.
“And if you need me to stop immediately?” He cups your jaw.
“Treasure,” you reply with your agreed upon but never used safe word.
“And if your mouth is full?”
A shiver runs over you, “Tap your thigh,”
“Very good,” he nods, “Are you ready?”
“Yes, sir.”
It’s all he needs, and the last thing you see is his sharp sparkling eyes, and a smile on his lips, before your world goes completely dark. It’s jarring, being positioned like this and unable to move or anticipate his next steps, but when you hear his belt unhooking, you’re ready.
He shifts forwards, his trousers open now and his cock standing stiff and aching. He places a hand on your face and guides you downwards, prompting you when to open your mouth. His warm soft length slides over your bottom lip, and you eagerly catch it with your tongue to slide him as far back in your mouth as you can. This position on your knees was how you had throat trained, learning to take him inch by inch and suppress your gag reflex, and now he bumps the back of your throat with ease.
With a soft tug against your ponytail, he tells you silently to begin. With slow and deliberate motion, you drag your head back and forth to take him in your mouth. Your tongue is pressed along the bottom of his shaft as you do, applying pressure where you know he wants it and hollowing out your cheeks, sucking him softly. At his first soft groan, you drop your head down and accept him fully, your nose pressed against his pubic bone.
Breathing like this is difficult, and you have to keep yourself even and regulated through your nose. His cock twitches in your mouth and you sputter, moaning softly against him.
He’s not the largest partner you’ve ever had, but he’s certainly the best lover you’ve had and the only one you’ve been able to pace yourself with and take from tip to hilt inside your mouth. You pull up and back again, sinking him in deep and when you go to move again, his hand finds the back of your head and holds you there.
You make a soft noise of surprise around him, and he holds you tighter. Instinct tells your body to push away, pull your hands free and get loose, but you center yourself calmly and breathe slowly through your nose again.
He strokes your hair then, thrusting up into your mouth just a little and you cough slightly, spluttering and struggling with the way he keeps hitting the soft spongy back of your throat and brushing against your epiglottis. He strokes the length of your ponytail, and then wraps your long hair around his fist, tugging you firmly to test the grip on your scalp. You moan around him, pressing your eyes shut despite the blindfold, your body starting to tremble.
“You can do better than this,” he says, his tone dismissive. A challenge.
With practiced motion, you take him, letting his hand in your hair guide your speed but not the intensity of your ministrations. You roll your tongue over him, tease the tip of him, use your lips to apply pressure, suck on him greedily. You speed up, ignoring the way you choke around him, ignoring the sloppy wanton sounds and focus solely on what he wants.
A tight yank on your hair pulls you up and off his cock and you gasp in a deep gulp of air. He slaps you across the cheek and shakes you by the hair, “Not good enough,” he says, his tone sounding firm and final, and he delivers another slap to your cheek.
You’re almost ashamed at the sudden rush of wetness between your thighs and the way your body is shaking with need, and he knows every button of yours to push to make it more intense. “Open,” he commands and you open your mouth wide, your held tilted up for him.
It’s quick, he spits directly into your mouth and delivers another slap to your cheek before maneuvering your head downwards. A desperate whine leaves you, and the mixture of Seonghwa’s spit and your own drips out of your mouth and onto his waiting cock before you can recover. He moves to fuck your throat with abandon now, shifting to stand and pressing you tightly against him, ignoring the soft sounds of you sputtering and choking against him.
You center yourself again, easing your throat open and relaxed, widening your jaw, your nails softly dig into the backs of your thighs, and with one hand in your hair and the other along the side of your face, he loses himself. He’s panting above you, and you know immediately that he’s close. With your eyes tightly locked shut, you focus on the pin pricks of pain where your nails dig in and the throbbing of your desperate clit. He comes suddenly, hot and salty down the back of your throat and he clutches you close to him, your jaw straining painfully and your nose pressed tightly against him.
With a sigh he pulls you free, immediately dropping the grip he had in your hair and letting you settle. You’re gasping, a little cough in your throat, but you relax and let him continue.
You come back to sensation when his fingers gently tip your head upwards, and a cool glass touches your bottom lip. “Here we are,” he murmurs softly, “drink this.”
Cool water washes down your throat, and you take several deep sips before he brings the cup away and says, “That’s my very good girl,”
In a less intense scene you might have responded, you might have begged for him to touch you, or hold you, or fuck you into the floor, but today you know you can’t. You hold your tongue, and you wait. You hear the sound of a zipper again, and belt, and realize he must be redressed now and ready to focus on you.
“Alright,” his voice is now soft closer to your ear, “let’s get you up, hmm?”
His hands slip under you and he lifts you with ease, moving around the edge of the bed to settle you directly in the center. He’s careful with you here, soft and easy, fingertips brushing along your jaw where he slapped you and massaging your scalp where he pulled your hair. He reaches under you to unclasp your bra and draw it down over your arms, casting it aside, and leaving you finally fully bare for him.
“Color?” He says softly, his hand stroking across your stomach.
“Green,” You assure him.
His hand shifts lower, and he cups your cunt in his palm, one finger dipping between your folds and teasing your entrance. “Oh, you are ready for me,” he chuckles and you shudder, willing your body not to jerk and respond too strongly to his ministrations.
He removes his hand, and you feel his weight shift off the bed before he says, “Stay still for me.”
He takes one wrist and extends your arm up, and secures something around you it. You hear him move around the bed and you slowly roll your wrist to test the feeing of it out. It’s more comfortable than you thought it would be, not the stiff leather style cuffs you’ve seen in pornography or the silky fabric you see in softer core, aesthetic scenes. It feels more like layers of thick athletic fabric and you’re grateful it doesn’t pull or pinch at your skin.
He secures the other wrist, leaving your arms up above your head and spread wide. You don’t exactly expect him to secure your legs in the way that he does. You expect a similar loop of fabric around each ankle, but instead he secures you by each thigh just above the knee, a larger and thicker loop of restraint here, holding you fully open and exposed. Nerves bubble up inside you as he checks each of the restraints again and slips a finger gently under the edge of each to ensure they aren’t too tight.
Then things go quiet. You expect him to tease you, to be verbal like he normally is or to shift more dominant and even degrade you, but instead you’re met with quiet. It stretches on and you can’t help but turn your head to the left and right, straining to see if you can hear anything at all.
It’s taking too long, minutes pass, and you’re not even confident at this point that he’s even still in the room with you. You don’t want to break the scene, but you’re nervous now. The absolute lack of visibility and your tight restrained position has you so vulnerable you can barely breathe. “Seonghwa?” You know you shouldn’t address him by name, but the nerves get the better of you.
He doesn’t respond, but suddenly you feel a brush along your inner thigh and you jerk, startled at the sensation of what feels like a fine brush coasting gently up your skin. His voice murmurs, honeyed and soft, “Shh, shh, you’re safe.”
The brush runs up each thigh, across your pubic bone, over your stomach, and repeats. The sensation has you straining, your hips making subtle jerks instinctively, aching to be touched more now that you know he hasn’t left you.
He repeats his pattern again and again, until he shifts, the brush ever so slightly running over your exposed clit. You whine, rolling your head back and gripping the straps of your wrist restraints. He teases you like this for what feels like forever, but he eventually lifts the brush away. “You’re so wet,” he hums pleasantly, “is this all for me?”
You swallow, your throat dry, “Yes, sir.”
“Very good.”
You swallow tightly again but choke out a gasp at the next touch against your inner thighs has you shaking. It takes you a few moments to work it out, with the way that he’s teasing, but you realize quickly he’s traded the brush for a feather and the new sensations have you trembling again.
You want his hands on you, his fingers, his mouth, but you know that once you start begging he’ll make this longer and harder for you. He’s already come, and he’ll stay perfectly in control for as long as he wants to. He takes his time again with the feather, passing it over every inch of your body, focusing special attention to your pebbled nipples and trembling core.
You know he’s done playing when he moves the feather away and you feel his weight descend on the bed between your wrenched open legs. You know he’s going to touch you, but how you can’t predict. Something firm lands directly on your clit and you arch back instinctively, but he keeps in pressed down. You rock your hips slightly, testing the feeling, but he clicks his tongue in disapproval and you stop immediately. At the sudden wave of vibration from the object pressed against you, you can’t help but cry out and jerk up against your restraints.
Seonghwa pushes the vibrator more tightly against your clit and lays a firm hand on one of your open thighs. “Don’t you dare come.”
The sound that leaves you is broken, keening, and you try to back your hips up and away from the vibrator, but he holds you steady and presses it more firmly against your swollen nub. “Please, please,” you manage, panting.
“You’ll come when I tell you and not a second before.” His voice is stern, curt, and runs a shock of pleasure up your spine.
You focus hard, gritting your teeth and laying your head back against the mattress. Your nails dig into your palms, your body trembles, and you do your best to keep things at bay. He circles the vibrator hard against you and you moan out, a breathy wet sob of desperation.
He brings you up, placing you high on the pedestal of your orgasm, and works you there until he’s sure you can’t take another single second. With a pleased tone he commands you, “Come.”
Your body tightens, and you let the feeling crash over you, crying out when you feel two of his fingers push up deep inside you to help push you over the edge. No doubt your words are incoherent, your body shaking uncontrollably.
The vibrator lifts as you start to come down, but his fingers pick up speed. “Again,” he says.
You shake your head, desperate and confused, the heady feeling of your orgasm holding you still, but he’s relentless the way he pushes inside you. His hand stays locked tight to you, sharp thrusts cresting you upwards again, “There we go,” he says as you cry, “again, again.”
You’ve never felt anything like this, a sharp snap inside you that leaves you writhing, your wrists tugging at your restraints and your thighs attempting to snap closed but completely unable. He has you open and ready, and he has no intention of stopping. He’s talking to you, but you can’t hear him through the haze, his fingers slow, and when he’s sure you’ve come twice he slides them out and brushes his hands along your thighs soft and slow.
When you hear the sound of his belt again and the rustle of fabric, your body locks up. You’re still shaking from his hour of slow burn pleasure, and you can barely breathe, nerves igniting at what is coming next.
“Color?” Seonghwa confirms, one hand coming back to rest on your thigh.
You want to keep up, you want to give him exactly what he wants, but the breath is tight in your chest, “Yellow,”
“Alright,” he murmurs, his hands leaving you and you sigh, focused instead of recovering your breath slowly and breathing through the sudden wave of nerves.
He settles down next to you, stretched long by your side, and rests his hand warmly on your stomach, “Deep breaths,” he murmurs.
You follow his lead and as he softly strokes you with his thumb and gives you the time, you start to settle back into yourself. You want so badly to see him, loving the way he takes his time with you and the way he looks at you and your body, but he wanted you like this so badly that you just hope you’re giving him what he needs.
“Color?” he checks again.
“Green,” you nod, “I’m okay,”
He shifts away immediately, settling back between your open legs. “Are you?” He asks again, but his voice has taken back on a hardened edge.
“Yes, sir,”
“Then I have more work to do,” he says, and his hand connects with your clit, rubbing quick circles into your oversensitive nub.
Tears spring to your eyes instantly, and your muscles clench around nothing, your hips rocking up and against his hand, body panting and desperate in an instant. Heat rushes over you and you spasm, pulling again against the taut restraints. As you come up again, he pulls back suddenly and you whine, craning your head up even though you know you won’t be able to see him. His body descends over you, and you feel now that he’s naked and hard against you. His stiff cock connects with your clit and he rolls his hips over you to drag it back and forth, your body shuddering in response.
“Oh God,” you shake your head, “Please, please,”
His hand connects with your jaw, holding you firmly, “Please, who?”
“Sir!” You recover yourself, “Please sir, please I can’t,”
“You can’t?” He mocks, dropping his hips lower.
You’re torn in two, desperate for him inside you and overstimulated enough that you can barely think of him touching you again. His breath fans across your cheek, his teeth nip at your ear and when his voice comes low and harsh, “Is my sweet girl too tired?”
The sound that leaves you is nothing but a stuttering mess and your hips jerk up desperately, pressing the head of his cock against your fluttering hole. He makes a pleased sound in your ear and sinks home, locking your hips tight together and groaning against you now that he’s finally inside you. Your legs try to force themselves shut again, but it does nothing and he responds with a pointed and firm thrust.
“What a mess,” he says, thrusting into you faster, “all laid out for me like this.”
You can’t form thoughts, nothing coherent anyways, the sensation of him dragging perfectly inside you and his pubic bone connecting with your clit on every downwards strike making you arch against him. You’re nothing but a moaning mess, holding onto the wrist restraints in your hands for dear life, and letting him take his fill.
“Did I fuck you dumb, sweet girl?” His hand sinks into your hair and he pulls down again, baring your throat and twisting your position tighter.
Tense sore pleasure knots inside you, tears hot in your eyes, and nothing in the world has ever felt quite like this. His pace above you starts to quicken and you know he can’t be far, but you haven’t found the words to answer him.
He catches one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger and pinches, just hard enough to shock your brain and have you twisting away from him despite the weight of his body over yours. “I asked you a question,” he growls in your ear, his thrusts turning more forceful.
There’s no chance you’ll be able to answer, and you shake your head, “I can’t,”
He doesn’t respond, just grips your hair and your side tightly in his hands and fucks you faster, his shaky soft groans telling you he’s close. “Where do you want it?” He asks suddenly, his hand against your face again.
“Wh-what?” He’s never asked you before, only told you.
“Where should I come? Tell me,”
You clench around him, the knot tightening and blood rushing to your head, the only thing that connects in your brain is this final need, “Inside, inside, please, please,”
“You didn’t say sir,” He says, firm, and you tumble into another orgasm, the strike of pleasure catching you by surprise. He pulls out of you suddenly and you’re spasming around nothing, and you cry at the sudden change of sensation. “Fuck,” he pants above you and he grips your thigh tightly in his hand before releasing hot across your belly.
In the aftershocks, you’re shaking more than you ever have before, your fingertips slightly numb from their raised position and your legs surely unusable. He’s quiet, and you’re not sure if it’s really over until you feel the damp warm towel against your skin as he cleans you up.
He releases the tie on one of your thighs, then the other, and your legs fall slack against the bed, a deep ache in your hips as you let them straighten out. He releases one wrist, then the other, and your hands drop down above your head. Softly, he slips the blindfold off and comes to sit by your side, his thumbs wiping away the stray tears. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead and cups your cheek. When your eyes finally flutter open he smiles, “There you are, darling.”
“Hi,” you manage, weakly.
“You did so beautifully,” he caresses your cheek.
“It was,” you shift your arms and wince, the pins and needles springing up them instantly at the slight shift. His eyes flick upwards to assess and he deftly takes one arm in his hands, massaging soft circles into your flesh to wake it back up and give you some sensation. As he takes the other arm you finish your thought, “was it what you wanted?”
He nods, “it was better than I could have ever imagined,”
His warm words fill you with comfort and you stretch your tired limbs, shifting slightly to rest one hand on his bare thigh and look up at him, “Yeah?”
“You’re perfect,” he leans over you, pressing a warm kiss against your lips, “I wish you could have seen yourself, you looked…”
You blush and he brushes his hands across you, warmly up your back, massaging your thighs, planting kisses along your skin as he does. “How are you feeling?” He asks.
In truth, you’re sore, stiff, and exhausted, but you also feel boneless, sated, and perfectly dazed. “Good,” you settle on.
He smiles again, “Stay here for a minute, I’ll be right back.”
You nod, and watch him go. He pulls a pair of boxers on disappears into the bathroom. You hear the sound of the bathtub filling, and the sound of the shower, and you rest in the center of the bed while he’s gone. You close your eyes, content to rest and stay exactly as you are, but he returns.
When he does, he eases you up into his arms and you open your eyes. He’s freshly showered, his hair wet and pushed back, and he smells clean, his skin soft against yours. He carries you cradled against his chest into the large bathroom and eases you down into the warm water of the tub.
You hiss at the contact of the water against your backside, still sore from earlier, the heat from the water only making it sting, but you know once you’re submerged it will fade. He settles you against one side of the large tub and comes to rest behind you, outside the water, but with his arms looping around you and holding you beneath the warmth.
“Feel better?” He murmurs against your hair.
“Perfect,” you reply, letting your eyes slip closed.
He kisses your temple and rests here with you for a few moments before slowly unwinding his arms, “Take your time, and when you’re ready we’ll get you to bed.”
He’s perfect like this, you think. Kind and gentle, attuned to your needs like the best of lovers should be. He leaves you to your space, knowing that you need time to come out of the headspace of the scene and back to yourself. Easing yourself back, you take stock of how your body feels and slowly wash up. You ease yourself out of the bath once you’re ready, wrapping a fluffy white towel around yourself. You need to take it slow, you realize immediately, your hips are sore and your legs are still a bit shaky, but you can manage.
When you cross the threshold of the bedroom out of the master bathroom suite, Seonghwa jumps up from his position reclining on the now made bed. “You should have called me,” he crosses the room for you.
“I’m okay,” you squeeze his hand, “I promise, just a little tired.”
He still doesn’t listen, and moves with you to your side of the bed, pulling back the covers and then tucking you in once you’re laying down. “There’s water here,” he hands you a glass, “are you hungry at all?”
You shake your head, “No, I’m okay,” You take a deep gulp of water and sigh, sleep pulling at you already.
“Alright,” he seems anxious all of a sudden, fussy, and he clicks the lights off except for the opposite bed side table before slipping into bed beside you.
“You’re staying here?” The words leave you before you can stop yourself, surprised. Despite how often you’ve slept together, you’ve never actually spent the night together.
“Would you be comfortable with that?” He asks.
“Of course,” you roll towards him, “you just caught me off guard, but I’d love it if you’d stay.”
He visibly relaxes, sinking back into the pillows and resting a hand on yours, “If you’re here, I’d like to keep you close.”
After the intensity of the night, his words fill you with warmth and you shift closer, “Then come here,” you tug on his arm slightly.
He slides over, wrapping around you, cupping you agains this chest. He runs his fingers through your damp hair and down your back, a repeated comforting pattern, “Can I get you anything else?”
You shake your head against him, “Just hold me awhile,”
“I’m not going anywhere,” his voice, low and soft eases you.
It doesn’t take long for your body to melt into the covers, feeling more spent than you’ve ever felt before, Seonghwa’s steady arms around you and solid heartbeat against your cheek.
When you wake it happens slowly, and it takes you a while for your mind to catch up and understand the sensations you’re feeling. When your brain does connect, it’s to the realization that Seonghwa’s fingers are inside you, pumping slowly and massaging your clit softly to spark your wet arousal.
Pleasure ripples up your spine and you softly moan, stretching your hips down slightly and curling into the pillow under your cheek. You don’t open your eyes quite yet, intoxicated by the sensation of him touching you.
His fingers slide out, and he softly raises one of your legs, opening you up and gently letting you stretch onto your back. His hands drift across your skin gently, running slowly from your breasts down your stomach, across your thighs and dipping back to slowly tease you, ease you open and pliant with practiced circles with the pads of his fingers against your nub.
You keep your eyes closed despite the soft pants that leave you, the needy shifts of your hips. You wanted him to take you like this, you always had.
You feel as he descends over you, gently opening your legs wider, lifting one of your legs up to your side to fold you into a press position. His cock sinks into you smoothly, your body slick and ready for him, but the sudden sensation of being filled has you moaning in earnest, and your eyes snap open. “Hwa,” you groan, but he claps a hand over your mouth and holds your face to the pillow below you.
You let out a startled squeak, but he keeps his hand locked in place over your mouth as he starts to thrust into you. He shushes you, “Go back to sleep baby,”
Pleasure knots deep in your belly at his words, but you play along, shaking your head against his palm and blinking up at him.
“Sleep,” he directs softly again, his voice almost a whisper in the dark room, “I just need you for a minute,”
Your eyes flutter shut and you let out a muffled moan against his palm. He keeps up his pace, and you feel your body clenching around him already. When you groan, your eyes flying open again, he presses his hand harder against your lips.
“Shh,” he hushes you, “just rest and let me fill you up, sweet girl.”
Your hands fist themselves in the sheets below you and you moan again. He drops down a little lower, pressing kisses to your temple as he fucks you, and he keeps murmuring against your skin, “I’ll give you what you need,”
The feeling of him is warm and hard, rhythmically stroking you in the perfect spot at a deliciously slow and steady pace. He whispers more, promises in the hollow of your ear, but you crash over the edge into your orgasm when he says, “I’ll fill you up every night sweet girl, every night until it sticks.”
You grip onto him suddenly, holding him tight to you as your body spasms and jerks against him, pleasure washing over you and sending sparks of heat down your limbs. He follows you quickly, thrusting into your fluttering muscles and spilling himself deep inside you, locking your hips together when he starts to come and just rocking his hips tightly against yours.
“That’s a good girl,” his hand slips away from your mouth, and he peppers kisses across your face.
You feel utterly boneless and pliant, and you groan when he pulls out of you and shifts to spoon you again, holding your slick body against his. He dips his fingers between your legs though, and presses inside you with two fingers, kissing your shoulder. With his opposite hand he wraps around you starts to gently massage your clit again, heat spreading fast across you.
“There we go,” he nuzzles you softly, “we’ll keep this right where it belongs,”
Your head drops back against him, and you let him work you quickly up over into another soft and shuddering orgasm, your body weightless now against him. He keeps his fingers inside you for just a few moments longer, and then slips out of you, kissing your shoulder repeatedly and stroking you gently. He murmurs soft to you, “How’s my girl?”
“So good,” you sigh, cuddling back against him.
“Is that what you wanted, love?” He asks, massaging your hip gently.
You nod, sated and ready again for more sleep.
“Good,” he holds you close, “I don’t know about you, but I think we could try that again.”
“Mm,” you nod and sigh, “anytime.”
He chuckles, “And last night?”
“Definitely,” you assure him, squeezing one of his forearms that wraps around you, “I think I liked it,”
“Did you?” He pulls the covers up over you higher.
“A lot,” you admit, and he all but purrs in satisfaction behind you. “Did you like this?”
“Very much,” he sweeps a hand low over your belly and spreads his fingers wide to cup you gently, “possibly too much.”
Seonghwa sighs behind you, and you can feel him relaxing against your back, spent from the evening before and this early morning, and you softly hiss the available patch of skin on the arm wrapped around your shoulders, “Let’s sleep then,”
“Mm,” he agrees, then says, “can I wake you up again?”
“Anytime,” you smile, “you can have me anytime.”
“Then sleep,” his deep warm voice murmurs, “you’ll need your rest for next time.”