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lifeisbutadream444 · 2 months ago

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The Last Night

Aaron Pierre x Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut

Summary: After the series finale wraps, she thinks she’s saying goodbye to four years of tension, restraint, and the co-star she was never supposed to love.

It’s almost 2:00 a.m.

And you still haven’t said goodbye.

Half the guests have already wandered off, some heading to other parties, others promising brunch meetups that’ll never happen. Someone’s curled up on a velvet couch in the corner, half-asleep. The playlist has drifted from party anthems to bittersweet throwbacks. Like even the speakers know this night is dissolving.

The show is really over.

And you’re still here. Clinging to a glass of wine you stopped sipping an hour ago, too aware of the time, of the way the room is thinning out.

You told herself you’d leave by midnight. Then by one.

Now, you’re just… hovering. Stuck. Stalling.

Every time you think about walking up to him and saying goodbye, something in your chest feels heavy. Because a goodbye means it’s done — not just the show, not just the job — but this. This rhythm you’ve grown addicted to. Seeing him almost every day. Knowing when he’ll laugh. The way his eyes linger. The heat in them. The softness. The unspoken question that used to live there.

Used to.

Because there was a time he flirted with you. Not overtly. Not in a way that could get him in trouble on set. Just enough to make you heart race. Just enough to terrify you.

Back then, you’d shut it down every time.

Not because you didn’t want him, that would’ve been easier. But because you wanted him too much. And you couldn’t afford to. It was your first real acting job. The kind of role that could make or end a career depending on how the audience took to you. The kind of opportunity that came with fine print. Be professional. Don’t stir up drama. Stay out of gossip blogs. Don’t sleep with your co-star.

Especially not him.

Because Aaron wasn’t just anyone. He had that dangerous kind of calm. Women loved him. All of them. They tweeted about his hands. His voice. His interviews. His lips. You saw it sometimes. Fan edits, thirst comments, tweets speculating about who he was dating. You knew what his fanbase would do to you if they even thought he was spending too much time with someone who wasn’t famous enough, hot enough, soft enough, loud enough, quiet enough. And you already hated being perceived, despite your career choice. You weren’t built for that kind of spotlight. Which means you weren’t built to be his.

So you smiled. Laughed. Dodged. Every time.

And then, one day, he stopped trying, and you couldn’t blame him. It was relieving and devastating at the same time.

Now, you couldn’t pretend you were avoiding scandal or danger or chaos.

Now there’s nothing left to hide behind.

Four years. Four entire seasons of close scenes and interviews and press tours and hotel rooms with adjoining walls. Four years of biting your tongue and pretending his voice didn’t make you shiver.

The series finale was filmed yesterday. The wrap party is winding down. He’s not tied to you anymore. He’s free. Free to fly off to another set. Another city.

You watch him from across the room, laughing with someone from production, wearing one of those black cashmere sweaters you love so much on him, sleeves pushed up just enough to show the tattoos on his forearm. His hands in his pockets. He looks good. Too good.

You know you’re dragging this out. You said goodbye to everyone else. Hugged the crew. Took selfies with castmates. But you haven’t said goodbye to him. You couldn't bring yourself to do it.

“You’ve been drinking that same glass of wine for at least an hour now.”

His voice comes from behind as you stand by the bar, low, smooth, familiar.

You shrug, trying to look casual. “Yeah, I’m holding onto it for emotional support at this point.”

He steps to the side so he’s facing you fully, one hand in his pocket, the other resting on the edge of the bar. He doesn’t say anything right away. Just watches you, the way he always used to, before you made him stop.

Damn, he used to look at you like this all the time.

Back when he still thought he had a chance.

“We’ve barely talked tonight,” he says.

He leans in a little, voice softer now. “Are you avoiding me or something?”

You laugh, but it comes out tight. “Of course not.”

You look down at your shoes. They suddenly feel like the wrong choice. Like everything about you tonight is trying too hard, your dress, your lipgloss, the way you kept positioning yourself just slightly toward him in every photo. Desperate. That’s what you feel like. Pathetic and exposed.

“You’ve been suspiciously quiet tonight.” he says.

Your chest tightens.

You want to say I didn’t want to cry in front of you.

You want to say I don’t know how to say goodbye.

You want to say I can’t breathe when I think about not seeing you every day.

Instead, you say, “Just tired, I guess. It’s been an emotional night for everyone.”

He doesn’t press.

He knows you’re stalling.

He’s enjoying it. You can tell.

You shift your weight. “Are you heading out soon?”

“Eventually.”

And then you do it. The thing you’ve been rehearsing in your head for hours. The thing you almost talked yourself out of in the bathroom mirror twice tonight.

“I don’t really want to say goodbye yet,” you say, voice quieter now. “Let’s go somewhere else.”

It’s out before you can take it back. Your heart is in your throat. And it’s stupid. You should’ve asked sooner. Or not at all. You don’t even know where “somewhere” is. You just know you can’t let him leave without giving yourself the chance to be brave — just once.

You feel like you’re about to be laughed at. Or worse, gently let down.

But he doesn’t laugh.

He just tilts his head, gaze warm, steady.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he says.

You roll your eyes. “Don’t make it weird.”

He steps in closer, voice low. “Too late. Come on.”

The speakeasy is nearly empty when you walk in. It was only a ten-minute walk from where the wrap party was, but it feels like a different world. Jazz curls through the air in soft, distant waves. The lights are low and amber.

The booth he chooses is tucked in the back, half-shielded by a long, draping curtain. Private. Intimate.

You slide into the seat across from him, heart pounding, instantly too aware of how small the space feels. The table between you is narrow. Your knees almost touch. You tuck your legs to the side, careful not to brush him, but you can already feel his eyes on you.

He looks unbothered. Relaxed. One arm draped across the back of the booth. He orders a bourbon. Neat.

You fumble through the cocktail menu like you need an excuse not to look at him.

“A spicy margarita, please,” you say, your voice too fast.

When the drinks arrive, you take a confident sip of your margarita—then immediately start coughing.

You cover your mouth, eyes watering. “What the — this is spicy as fuck.”

Aaron raises his brows, casually sipping his bourbon. “Did you think ‘spicy margarita’ was just, like, a vibe?”

You glare at him, still coughing. “I thought it would be, like… fun spicy. My mouth is on fire."

Aaron raises a brow, setting down his bourbon. “It can’t be that bad. Let me taste it.”

You start sliding your glass across the table. “Here.”

He doesn’t reach for it.

Instead, he leans in slowly, head tilted, eyes locked on yours. “Not like that.”

Your hand stills. “What?”

He doesn’t answer, just looks at you, all steady confidence and heat. And you don’t move. Not for a second. You just watch him, like you're trying to figure out if he’s serious. He watches you right back, the corner of his mouth twitching.

And that’s when it hits you. He's just fucking with you.

You groan, leaning back in your seat, still flustered. “You’re an asshole.”

Aaron shrugs, sipping his bourbon like he didn’t just short-circuit your entire nervous system. “Sure. But you were gonna do it.”

You narrow your eyes. “No, I wasn’t.”

“I don't know, you were kind of leaning in.”

“I was assessing the situation.”

“You were ready to let me taste it from your mouth,” he says, so calm, so damn pleased with himself.

You scoff, gripping your glass just to keep your hands busy. “You’re delusional.”

Aaron leans back against the booth, stretching his arm across the top like he owns the whole damn night. “You’re nervous,” he says, not accusing, just annoyingly observant.

You roll your eyes. “I’m not nervous. I’m annoyed.”

“You’re annoyed because I caught you.”

“I’m annoyed because you think you caught me. There was nothing to catch.”

“Mhm.” He takes another sip of bourbon, like he’s letting you have that one.

The moment hangs between you, not tense, exactly, but something close. Like the edge of something sharper, waiting to cut through.

You don’t respond. You just look down at your drink.

He doesn’t push. Doesn’t ask what’s wrong. Doesn’t ask why you brought him here or what you want. But he knows. You can see it in his face.

He leans forward again, forearms resting on the table. His cologne drifts across the small space, dark and familiar.

“You still tired?” he asks, voice low.

You hesitate. “No.”

“You said you were earlier.”

You look up at him, meet his eyes. “I’m not anymore.”

He doesn’t look away. Just nods once, gaze unreadable.

For the next hour, the two of you talk about nothing, the playlist, the overpriced drinks, the ridiculous wrap gifts, like you’re still trying to prove you’re just friends who always knew how to kill time together.

“You know,” he says, casually — too casually — “it really has been great working with you.”

Your stomach twists.

You laugh under your breath. “That sounds like a polite goodbye in an email.”

Aaron chuckles. “What, I can’t be sincere now?”

“You being sincere is suspicious.”

“I’m trying to give you a moment.”

You try not to look like you’re panicking. And fail.

“That’s it?” you ask lightly. “That’s your goodbye?”

“I mean, I could write a card.”

You snort, covering your mouth with the back of your hand.

He grins, slow and amused. But it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“So,” he says, swirling what’s left in his glass, “what happens now?”

You blink. “What do you mean?”

He glances around the room. “Well, the party’s over. The show’s over. We’re sitting here. Just you and me.” He looks back at you, tilting his head. “Feels like we’re supposed to wrap this up somehow.”

You try to match his tone. Cool. Detached. “I don’t know.”

“We should probably head out soon,” he says casually, glancing toward the door.

Your stomach sinks.

You nod slowly, trying to act like you’re fine. Like this was always going to be just a drink. Just a quiet ending to a loud night.

He stands, smooth and effortless, slips his jacket back on like it’s just another night.

Then looks down at you. Calm. Unreadable.

“I can have my driver take you home if you’d like.”

You blink. “Okay, thank you.”

He opens the back door of the black car idling at the curb and waits, holding it open like it’s nothing.

You slide into the back seat. He gets in after you.

You stare straight ahead, lips pressed tight, hands gripping your purse like a lifeline. He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t look at you. Doesn’t reach for your hand the way you used to imagine he might if the moment ever came.

The driver mentions he’ll drop Aaron off first — since his place is only a couple minutes from the speakeasy.

And that’s when the quiet starts to hurt.

The kind of silence that settles in your chest like a final scene. Like this is the last time you’ll be in the same car, breathing the same air. No more excuses. No more proximity. No more inevitable collisions.

This is it. This is the part where he gets out. Where you let him.

You stare down at your hands, trying not to do the math of it — of how long you’ll last pretending this was enough. Pretending you didn’t want more. You had your chance. A hundred of them, really. You spent four years collecting them and letting them pass.

The car slows. Aaron unbuckles his seatbelt without a word.

And your whole chest clenches.

This is really happening.

He’s going to get out. Say something vague. Wish you luck. You’ll go home and tell yourself this is what you wanted. That you were being smart. That silence is safer than saying I love you to someone who might not say it back.

You feel the moment cracking open, something in your throat tightening.

He doesn’t move right away. Just stares ahead — jaw tight, unreadable. Then he looks at you.

“Come on,” he says. “Get out.”

Your breath catches. “What?”

“Just for a second,” he says, already opening his door. “Say goodbye properly.”

You hesitate.

But he’s already stepping onto the sidewalk.

Your legs feel heavy as you follow him, like you’re walking through something thick. Like grief. Like regret. You wonder if this will be the last time he ever asks you for anything.

When you reach him, he’s standing a couple of feet from the car, hands in his pockets, head tilted slightly. Watching you like he knows. Like he’s always known.

You stop a foot away.

He opens his arms.

“Come here.”

You step into him.

And the second his arms close around you — one low on your back, the other curling over your shoulder — it breaks.

You didn’t plan to cry.

You didn’t feel it coming.

But the second your face hits his sweater, it starts.

Silent. Unstoppable.

Your fingers fist the fabric like you can hold him in place that way. Like he might vanish if you let go. Your whole body shakes from it, this quiet, aching sob that’s been waiting years to slip out.

He doesn’t ask what’s wrong.

He already knows.

His hand moves in slow, warm circles on your back. The kind that soothe. The kind that say you’re safe. The kind that make everything worse because they remind you what you’re losing.

You breathe him in, voice cracking as you whisper, “I’m gonna miss you so much.”

He stills. Not sharply. Just feels it.

His hand moves to your hair, his touch reverent now. Like you’re something fragile. Like he knows what it costs you to say it.

You stay like that. Too long. Not long enough.

Then he pulls back just enough to look at you. Your cheeks are wet. His thumb brushes a tear away. He studies your face like it’s a decision.

Then, softly—

“Come inside.”

You nod.

You don’t say a word.

You don’t have to.

Because even though everything in you thought this was the end…

You were wrong.

This was never going to be goodbye.

The door clicks shut behind you, and suddenly it hits you:

You’re in his house.

You’ve been here before, sure — group hangouts, cast dinners. But never like this. Never alone.

Your feet stay planted on the welcome mat. Like if you move too far into the room, it might feel real.

Aaron steps past you, reaching for the light switch. He kicks off his shoes and turns to find you still standing like a nervous intern.

He lifts a brow. “You want me to carry you in bridal-style, or…?”

He smiles. Warm. Like he’s easing the tension on purpose.

“Maybe I do.” you respond, smiling despite your nerves.

You slip your heels off and take a slow step deeper into the room.

Aaron watches you like he already knows. Like he’s waited a lifetime for you to finally walk into this exact moment — nervous, squirming, ripe for unraveling.

He walks over to his kitchen, grabbing a water bottle from his fridge. He brings it to you, and watches as you sip.

Your hand shakes slightly around the bottle. He doesn’t miss it.

When you’re done, he sets it aside and curls two fingers under your chin, tilting your face to his.

“You okay?” he asks, voice low.

You nod — too fast.

He studies you for a second. Then walks over to his couch. He flops into it without fanfare and pats the cushion beside him.

“Sit down.”

The second you sit down, his arm slides behind you, resting along the back of the couch — not touching, not pulling, just there. Like he’s giving you an invitation you don’t have to take.

You sit stiffly. Sip your water. Stare at the art on his wall.

“I didn’t expect to end up here tonight.”

He nods. “Me either.”

You turn to look at him.

“I thought you were finally sick of my shit.”

“I was,” he says with a shrug. “Until I saw you crying over me.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “That’s so embarrassing.”

He laughs, full and real. “It was the highlight of my night.”

You look back up at him. “Why are you like this?”

“Because you’re like that,” he says simply, smiling.

The kind of smile that makes your stomach flutter and ache at the same time.

You roll your eyes, but it’s weak — you’re too aware of the way he’s watching you. Too aware of the heat pooling low in your body, of the words you’re still too scared to say.

A silence settles between you, not awkward, but charged — like the pause before a storm. Like you’re both waiting to see who’s going to say the next brave thing.

You reach for your water again, if only to give your hands something to do.

Aaron watches you for another beat, then shifts — like he senses the tension and decides to cut through it just enough to let you breathe.

“You want music?” he asks.

“Sure.”

He leans forward and taps something on his phone. A slow, low beat hums from speakers you hadn’t noticed before. R&B. Something moody. Sultry.

Of course.

“Really?” you say, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugs, unbothered. “It’s just a playlist.”

You sip your water again. “This is a sex playlist.”

“Could be a soul-baring emotional conversation playlist.”

You roll your eyes, but he catches the smile you try to hide.

You lean forward and rest your elbows on your knees, staring down at your hands. “This is so weird.”

He raises a brow. “Weird how?”

“Just… being here. Like this. With you. Alone.” You pause. “I used to imagine this.”

You look up slowly — unsure whether to smile or backpedal — but Aaron isn’t laughing. He’s watching you like you just handed him a secret.

“You used to imagine this?” he repeats.

You nod once. “Not like… this exactly. But yeah. Just… being close to you without wondering if someone’s watching."

His jaw ticks. That quiet restraint you’ve seen in him so many times — it’s still there, but just barely.

“I used to picture it too,” he says, voice low.

You blink.

“You did?”

“All the time,” he murmurs. “But it wasn’t like this. You weren’t sitting a foot away from me like I was a stranger.”

You open your mouth, but he cuts you off gently.

“Come here.”

You freeze. For half a second, you don’t move.

Because for all you know, this could be like the bar again — one of his little tests. Another game just to see how flustered he can make you before pulling back with that smirk like gotcha.

So you hesitate. Watching him.

“Are you serious?” you ask softly.

Aaron doesn’t smirk this time. Doesn’t tease. His head tilts slightly, lips twitching into something softer, steadier.

“I’m dead serious,” he says. “Don’t make me ask twice.”

You swallow, heart thudding loud in your chest.

Then you crawl across the couch, slow and deliberate, every inch closing the space you’ve been scared of crossing for four years.

His hands are already at your waist when you reach him. He helps guide you into place — like you’re weightless — settling you onto his lap with ease. Your legs straddle his thighs.

Your dress hikes up dangerously high, and you instinctively try to shift it down, but his hands tighten on your waist, holding you still.

“Leave it,” he says, voice low and firm.

You freeze.

Then slowly drop your hands from the hem of your dress.

Your palms land on his shoulders, grounding yourself. His eyes flick down to your mouth, then back up, and the look on his face makes your breath catch.

“Four years of pretending you didn’t want me…” he teases. “How’d that work out for you?”

You try to glare at him. Fail. “Shut up.”

He grins. “I will. As soon as you stop lying to me, and to yourself.”

“I’m not—”

He cuts you off with a look. Sharp. Commanding. Don’t.

You swallow hard.

“I waited,” he says, dragging his hands up the sides of your thighs. “I let you push me away. I let you pretend.”

His grip tightens slightly.

“I just want you to be honest. I want you to look at me and say exactly what you want.”

You try to speak, but it’s just a shaky breath you can’t bite back.

He leans in slowly, caressing your neck with his lips, making you shiver with need. His voice drops to a velvet threat.

“I can do this all night, baby. I can keep you squirming on my lap until you’re begging and saying everything you swore you’d never say.”

“Aaron, please,” you whisper.

“Please what?” he teases darkly, dragging his lips closer to your ear now. “What do you want, sweetheart? My mouth? My hands?”

Your nails dig into his shoulders. He feels it, and grins like he’s won something.

“You wanna be mine?” he asks. “Say it.”

You hesitate.

“I want you. I've always wanted you.” you whisper, breathless, broken.

That’s all it takes.

He kisses you.

No hesitation. No tenderness.

It’s not sweet, not at first.

It’s everything you’ve denied, everything he’s been holding back. A collision of years of silence, missed chances, and stubborn pride. His mouth claims yours like it belongs there, like he’s making up for every time you turned away, every night he imagined this and didn’t act on it.

You gasp into him, but he doesn’t let up — just deepens it, tilting your chin up further, one hand tangled in your hair now, the other gripping your waist like he’s trying to remind you whose lap you’re in.

You feel like you're unraveling.

Your whole body is burning — breath hitching, skin flushed, mind dizzy with the taste of him. He kisses you like he’s memorizing you. Like he’s been starving for this.

And he has.

His tongue brushes yours, deliberate and slow, drawing a soft whimper from your throat. Your hands slide down his chest, anchoring yourself. You grind forward, instinctive and unthinking, and he stills you with a groan that sounds like it’s been clawing its way out of him for years.

“Uh-uh,” he growls. “You don’t get that yet.”

Your mouth drops open. “Aaron—”

“No,” he says again, firmer. “Not until you tell me why you waited so long. Not until I get every answer I’ve been patient enough to wait for.”

You’re panting now.

His thumb drags across your bottom lip — slow, focused, like he’s trying to decide whether to kiss you again or call you out.

His hand stays on your waist, warm and firm, the other still curled behind your neck. He hasn’t kissed you again. Not yet. He’s waiting. Letting the silence stretch until you can’t take it anymore.

“You told me you wanted me,” Aaron says quietly, eyes dark. “Now tell me why you waited so long.”

You hesitate. Swallow. Try to look away.

His fingers tighten just slightly. “Eyes on me, sweetheart.”

You meet his gaze — and once you do, the words start to spill.

“Because I was scared,” you say softly.

He says nothing — just strokes his thumb along the back of your neck, coaxing more.

“I didn’t want to be another actress linked to her co-star. I didn’t want to ruin the show with drama if things didn't work out between us. I didn't want to risk my career before it even really started."

Aaron’s jaw ticks, but he stays still, letting you keep going.

“And your fans…” you continue, voice shaking, “They’re intense. They hate anyone who gets too close to you. The comments, the threats — I’ve seen them. I didn’t want to live like that. Constantly being picked apart for being near you.”

Aaron doesn’t say anything — not yet. Just listens, eyes locked on yours, hand still firm at the base of your spine. His thumb is tracing slow circles into your skin like he’s trying to keep your pulse tethered to his.

“I know who you are, Aaron. I’ve seen it up close. Every woman wants you. I couldn’t walk into a room with you without someone throwing themselves at you.”

He’s still quiet. Dead quiet. But his grip tightens on your waist like he wants you to keep going.

“And I didn’t know if you’d want something real with me. I didn’t want to be some fling. I didn’t want you to use me to burn off steam between interviews and premieres and then move on to someone else."

Silence.

Aaron’s jaw clenches.

The silence stretches too long. It’s not teasing anymore.

His fingers flex against your waist — not rough, not soft. Just restrained.

When he finally speaks, his voice is low. Cold. Not because he doesn’t care — because he cares too much.

“You think I waited around for years… just so I could fuck you and forget you?”

You freeze, but your pulse spikes.

He sees it — the way your lips part, the way your breath catches. He sees everything. That’s always been the problem. He sees through you too easily, and tonight, he’s not letting you hide.

“Aaron,” you whisper, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You did.” His gaze holds yours — firm, but not unkind. “You meant it exactly like that. And I get it. You were protecting yourself. You’ve always been good at that.”

He exhales slowly, jaw ticking once before he shifts beneath you, his hands steady on your hips.

“But I thought by now,” he says, voice lower, rougher, “you’d know me better than that.”

You bite your lip, heart in your throat.

“I waited,” he says, fingers flexing at your waist, holding you exactly where he wants you. “I was patient. I watched you laugh it off every time it got too real.”

His hands glide up your sides — slow, reverent, grounding. His eyes don’t leave yours.

“And now you’re here,” he says. “In my lap. Dripping through those tiny little panties. Still pretending you don’t love me.”

His mouth twitches into something smug. “You’ve been running for four years, sweetheart. But you’re out of road.”

You lean in — trying to distract him — brushing your lips over his jaw, his neck, anywhere he’ll let you touch.

He tilts his head, letting you try. But his grip stays firm. Unyielding.

You whisper, desperate, “Just kiss me again…”

Aaron chuckles under his breath, dark and knowing. “No.”

You blink. “What?”

“I’m not kissing you until you say it.”

Your breath catches. “Aaron—”

He lifts a brow. “Unless you’d rather go home soaking wet and unsatisfied.”

You squirm in his lap, trying to grind down on him — needing friction, contact, anything.

You whimper. “Please…”

He leans in — not touching your mouth, just close enough to make you ache. “Use your words, baby.”

“I can’t,” you whisper, voice breaking.

“Yes, you can,” he says, calm and sure. “You’re just scared I won’t say it back.”

Your chest tightens. Your throat closes.

He softens, just slightly. One hand moves to cradle your jaw. “I’m not going anywhere. But I need you to be brave this time.”

You’re shaking.

You try to hold it in. You try to keep the last piece of yourself locked up, because once you say it, you can’t take it back.

But then he rocks his hips up into yours — just once — and your entire body jolts.

“Fuck,” you breathe, voice cracking.

“Say it,” he whispers again. “Or I’ll keep you like this all night.”

You’re on the verge of tears now — not from sadness, but the overwhelming pressure of it. The ache. The love you’ve been trying to bury alive for years.

“I love you,” you whisper.

His eyes darken, and the shift in him is immediate. That sharpness in his jaw relaxes, but everything else gets tighter — more focused. Like he’s locked into place now, no more teasing, no more waiting. Something quiet but fierce settles behind his gaze.

He cups your jaw fully now, both hands framing your face. “I know.”

Then he kisses you — again. This time it’s slow. Controlled. He tastes like promise. Like the kind of love that doesn’t get taken back in the morning.

“You don’t have to be scared.” he whispers against your lips. “I'm not going anywhere.”

You nod, your breath catching as his hands slide down your body with slow certainty.

He leans back slightly to look at you, one hand slipping beneath your panties, fingers tracing along your soaked heat. Your whole body arches into him — not even shy about it anymore.

“I knew you were wet,” he breathes. “But fuck…”

His fingers slide through your slickness and you cry out — overwhelmed, shivering.

He dips one finger inside you — slow, deep — and your eyes roll back. Your moan is shameless, immediate.

“That’s it,” he whispers. “Let me hear you.”

Your hands scramble for something to hold on to — his arms, his shoulders, anything — and he shifts you slightly in his lap, his thumb circling your clit now while his finger curls just right.

You gasp. “Aaron—”

“I know, baby,” he breathes, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I got you.”

His rhythm stays slow, steady, designed to ruin you inch by inch. Not rushed, not greedy, just devastatingly focused on what your body needs.

Your climax tears through you like something you’ve been holding back for years — a release of pressure, of fear, of everything you never said. You cry out against his lips, shaking in his arms, as he whispers praise into your ear.

He holds you through every wave — grounded, strong, steady — never letting go.

And when it finally passes, when you’re trembling and flushed and breathless, he kisses your forehead, then your lips, then down to the curve of your jaw.

He doesn't move his hand from between your thighs yet, his fingers still resting against your sensitive skin, stroking you in slow, lazy circles, like he’s not ready to stop touching you. Like he won’t.

“I told you I could do this all night,” he murmurs, voice rough, dangerous.

You shiver.

Your hand finds the hem of his sweater, slipping underneath. His skin is warm and solid, muscle flexing under your fingers as you push it higher. He lets you pull it off, watching you, letting you touch him now, letting you finally have what you’ve wanted for so long.

His chest is broad and defined, that faint trail of hair down his stomach making your pulse trip. You run your hands down the planes of his torso and feel him inhale through his nose, eyes darkening.

“You look like you’ve been dying to get your hands on me,” he says, voice quiet and smug.

You nod, helpless. “I have.”

He grins, then grips your thighs and stands, lifting you like you weigh nothing.

You gasp and cling to his shoulders as he carries you toward his bedroom, your legs wrapped around his waist, dress still bunched up around your hips.

He kicks the door open and lays you down on his bed, standing over you for a moment, watching you like you’re something holy.

“Take it off,” he says, nodding to your dress.

You start to slide the straps down your shoulders, but your hands are shaking. He notices, of course he does, and steps forward to help, voice softer now.

“Let me.”

He undresses you slowly, carefully, pulling the fabric down inch by inch until you’re left in just your soaked panties beneath him, bare and exposed in every way. His eyes drag over your body like he’s memorizing it. When his hand moves to your inner thigh again, your breath catches, your body still sensitive from before.

But he touches you anyway, brushing between your legs with just enough pressure to make you whimper.

You squirm. “Aaron—”

“You want me to stop?”

“No,” you breathe.

He pulls your panties down, slow and deliberate, and lets them fall to the floor.

Then he climbs onto the bed—kneeling between your legs, eyes dragging over your body like you’re something he’s been starved for.

He leans down and kisses your neck, your collarbone, the curve of your breast, never rushing. His hands stroke your thighs, your stomach, your hips, like he’s trying to ground you while simultaneously unraveling you all over again.

Then, without warning, his mouth is between your legs.

You cry out, hands fisting in the sheets as his tongue drags through your folds, slow and precise. He groans against you when you moan, like the sound alone is a reward.

You squirm a bit, still sensitive from your last orgasm and overwhelmed by the pleasure—but his hands hold your hips down, firm and steady.

“Uh uh. Stay still.” he murmurs.

His tongue circles your clit with expert precision, lips closing around it just enough to make your hips jerk. Then he slides two fingers inside you again, curling them just right, and you feel yourself breaking apart all over again, faster this time, more desperate.

He brings you over the edge with a low groan, licking you through it, and when you come this time, it’s with a cry of his name that almost leaves your throat raw.

You barely have time to breathe before he’s crawling up your body, kissing you hard, letting you taste yourself on his mouth.

You reach for his belt, fumbling with the buckle, and he grins against your lips.

“Don't you regret not letting me do this years ago?” he murmurs.

“You talk too much,” you pant, tugging at his jeans.

He helps you strip him down, and when you feel him—hard, thick, and heavy in your hand—you freeze.

Your eyes flick up to his, suddenly nervous.

He sees it. Smiles. And not sweetly.

“Too much for you?” he teases, brushing your hair off your face like he’s comforting you.

You open your mouth—probably to fire back—but he doesn’t give you the chance.

He kisses you again, deep and slow, then lines himself up and teases your entrance with the tip—just the tip—until you’re gasping and clawing at his back, trying to pull him in.

“Aw, look at you,” he murmurs against your cheek. “Already came twice and still so desperate.”

Then he pushes in.

Slow. Deep. Devastating.

You choke on a gasp, legs wrapping tight around his hips, your back arching as your body stretches to take him.

“F–fuck,” he grits out, forehead pressed to yours. “I should’ve made you mine the second I met you.”

He pulls out almost all the way—then drives back in, hard enough to make the bed creak.

You cry out, and he chuckles darkly.

“Yeah,” he breathes, “that’s it. Let me hear you."

He starts to move—long, unrelenting strokes that leave you boneless. Every thrust is deliberate, every angle calculated. He grips your thigh, holding it high against his side, while the other hand cups your jaw like he’s anchoring you in place.

“Are you still gonna pretend I don't own you after this?” he whispers, tone dripping with taunt.

You whimper, nails digging into his shoulders. Your mouth finds his neck, desperate, clinging. But you can’t stop shaking. You can’t breathe.

You fall apart under him, gasping and sobbing into his throat as your body clamps down around him. He doesn’t stop—not until he’s spilling into you with a growl of your name, his hips jerking, forehead pressed to yours as he rides it out, slow and deep and full.

After, he doesn’t pull away.

He kisses your jaw, your shoulder, your throat—soft now, like penance. Like he knows exactly how much he just wrecked you and he’s trying to stitch the pieces back together.

For a while, neither of you move. Just breathing. Just existing. Your limbs tangled, your bodies still buzzing.

Eventually, he pulls back—just enough to press a final kiss to your temple. Then he slips out of bed, tugging you with him.

By the time you’re both clean, dry, and back in bed—wrapped in one of his massive gray blankets—the tension from earlier has softened.

Aaron lies behind you, arm draped around your waist, chest warm against your back. You feel his breath in the dip of your neck—slow, steady.

You break the silence first. “You still awake?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“You good?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Then: “Just thinking.”

You shift slightly, just enough to glance back at him. “Thinking about what?”

His touch moves higher, his thumb tracing soft circles beneath your ribs. “About what would’ve happened if you hadn’t asked me to leave that party with you.”

Your chest tightens.

“I spent a long time convincing myself that what we had — the flirting, the inside jokes — was enough,” he murmurs. “That I didn’t need more.”

He exhales, quiet and controlled. “But it wasn’t enough. Not even close.”

You turn onto your side to face him. He watches you in the dark, eyes unreadable, jaw tense.

You feel the words settle between you — warm, honest, a little heavy.

He brushes a knuckle down your cheek, almost absentminded. “I love you,” he says, soft and steady. “And I’ve never been subtle about it.”

Your lips twitch into a smile, even as your eyes burn. “No. You weren’t.”

He laughs under his breath. “And you never made it easy.”

You nudge him with your foot beneath the blanket. “Neither did you.”

A beat of silence passes before you add, quieter now, “I wasn’t trying to be a bitch. I just… didn’t know how to handle it.”

“I know,” he says, gentle now. “You didn’t owe me anything."

You nod, heart full. Then, after a beat: “So what now?”

He leans onto his back, pulling you with him so your head rests against his shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” You toy with the edge of the blanket. “We’re not working together anymore. No more excuses to see each other every day.”

He raises a brow. “You worried I’ll disappear without the studio forcing us into close proximity?”

You roll your eyes. “I’m serious.”

“So am I,” he says. “You’re already overthinking how we stay in each other’s lives like I haven’t spent four years plotting exactly that.”

You make a face. “Plotting?”

“Yeah,” he says, smirking. “Meticulous long game."

Your breath stutters. “So… that means we’re together?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Babe. You’re naked in my bed, your legs around me, and I just told you I love you. What the fuck else would we be?”

You laugh. “You really know how to make someone melt.”

“I know.” he says smugly, trailing his hand beneath the blanket.

You try to stay still, to keep the upper hand—but his fingers slip beneath your shirt again, slow and deliberate.

“You love me?” he whispers, kissing your jaw.

“I do,” you sigh, finally letting yourself say it out loud. “Which is unfortunate, really.”

He laughs into your skin, his mouth finding your neck. “Terrible life decision. But I fully support it.”

#aaron pierre #aaron pierre fanfic #aaron pierre smut #aaron pierre x reader #aaron pierre x black reader #terry richmond fic #terry richmond smut

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yoonia · 3 months ago

Text

Love is Banned | jay b

— title: Love Is Banned | pairings: Jaebum/Jay B (GOT7) x female reader | genre: pwp (porn with very little plot), post break-up!au, brother’s best friend!au | word count: 10,901 words

— summary | Heartbroken beyond repair, you escape to your brother’s place hours away from home, desperate to avoid the Valentine’s Day soiree happening around you—only to find yourself trapped in the middle of his love-filled house party. Seeking solitude, you are surprised to find the perfect source of comfort from the last person you had ever expected to meet tonight.

— full fic ratings & warnings | +18 / M for mature; involves swearing, alcohol consumption, drunk sex (with consent), explicit sex, teasing and drunk flirting, sex/dirty talk, soft dom!Jaebum, inexperienced reader, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, clit play, hair pulling (male), restraints/light bondage, light spanking, breast play, nipple play, biting, rough sex, exhibitionism kink, minor pain kink, forced orgasm, multiple orgasms, unprotective sex, creampie, minor aftercare.

— story note: part of Lost Boys: Threadbare Hearts series | I was supposed to post this on Valentine’s Day, but life kept getting in the way and this took way longer than expected to finish. This fic was roughly edited, but I hope you can still enjoy reading this one. | If you’re interested to be tagged/notified on any of the other stories included in the series, please enter your blog username/url through the taglist form here.

— tracklist: worst behaviour — kwn, kehlani / I can’t wait to get there — the weeknd / slow grind — muni long / slow — wizkid, anais cardot

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

Those words slip out of you before you can stop yourself.

Because this room was supposed to be empty. At least, that was what you were hoping to find when you came up here.

Placed far in the hidden corner upstairs of your brother’s home, the small guest room should have been a safe place. It should have been able to keep you far from the racket happening below.

As far as you know, the room is rarely used—except as a second storage room where your brother would stash his old personal things once he’s no longer using them or when you need to stay over for the night with no disturbance from your brother and his guests. Apart from the two of you, you’ve never known anyone ever using the room.

That had been the reason why you went upstairs and straight to here once you got the chance to escape. To get away from the damn party that you wanted no part in, expecting some peace and quiet, and a moment to yourself.

You never expected to find the room—your safe haven—already occupied.

“I don’t see any rules telling me to stay out of this place,” the man sitting in the darkness responds to you in a mocking tone. You recognise his voice before you get to see his face, as he is almost completely hidden in the shadows with none of the lights turned on, and with his back resting against the foot of the bed where the lights coming through the window can’t reach him.

Judging from the slight slur in his speech, and the large bottle of liquor sitting on his side with half of its content mostly gone, you can tell that he already has some alcohol running in his system. Possibly from drinking here all alone while everyone else is trashing your brother’s home.

He lets out a low chuckle and continues, “And, as far as I know, you don’t live here, so I don’t think you’re one to make the rules anyway.”

You cross your arms, going on the defensive—something that your body has been trained to do since you were a teenager facing the group of rowdy boys that your older brother hung out with back in school. “That’s not what I meant.”

Another low chuckle comes from him before he finally moves, leaning forward until his face is visible under the streaks of dim light filtering from the hallway behind you. Just as expected, your uninvited guest turns out to be Jaebum, one of your brother’s high school best friends who seems to be hanging out around him still. Seeing the recognition on your face, he shows you a grin that no doubt would have been able to make every girl coming in his path blush from head to toe.

Of course, you would know this to be true. You are a woman, after all, and you used to be one of those girls who were drawn to them. Not just girls, too. Other seniors used to flock around them, following everything they did at school while vying for their attention. With your brother being a part of their group, you would often find them hanging out at your family’s house after school, either in the living room or your brother’s bedroom, something that everyone else had always been so envious of while you could never find the comfort in as they used to invade your safe space.

Just like what he is doing now.

You should have expected to find at least one of your brother’s friends to be around when you first came and saw the party happening, knowing that they still hang out together even after years have gone by. You just didn’t expect you were going to come across one of them this way.

“Why are you here anyway? The party’s downstairs,” you curiously ask him once you’ve gotten over your shock. Seeing him now, you cannot help but picture the way you remember him from all those years ago. Years may have passed, but it doesn’t seem like he has changed all that much. He still seems like the same older boy who once made your stomach flutter whenever he was near or when he gave you a bit of attention.

“I’m not really in the mood to join the party,” Jaebum says, shrugging, “I should be asking you the same thing. Why aren’t you downstairs with your brother? I thought you drove all the way here to join his party.”

As if.

You narrow your eyes and scoff, murmuring almost to yourself, “I was supposed to come here to avoid all kinds of parties.”

That was the truth, anyway. While you’ve never specifically celebrated Valentine’s Day before, you’re not someone who has any aversion towards it either. Until recently, when you finally have the reason to.

Dealing with a breakup only days before Valentine’s Day did that to you. It made you become sceptical and bitter, almost allergic to the love fest happening around you. So you decided that you had enough. Knowing how similar your brother is to you when it comes to Valentine’s Day, you drove hours away to his house, thinking that you would be able to spend the night and have the chance to confide in your brother.

What a surprise it was for you to find the house packed with his friends and colleagues, with most—if not all of them—wearing pink, partying together with your brother who had his new girl of the season clinging to his side.

How was I supposed to know that he was so smitten and in love with someone he met while we weren’t in contact that he felt like celebrating tonight?

“Are you staying or going?” Jaebum asks, pointing at the opened door behind you with his chin, with you still standing on the threshold like a lost kitten. “You’re letting all the noise come in. I came here with just as much need to avoid all the ruckus as much as you do.”

Realising that he is right, and you are at risk of missing your only chance to hide from your brother and all the excitement happening downstairs, you step deeper into the room, closing the door firmly behind you. The moment you are engulfed in the darkness, however, you immediately begin to regret it.

Shutting the door only means that you are stuck in the same room with him, with no lights—except for the reflecting streetlights you see coming from the window—and possibly no escape. You look over your shoulder, longing for the brief of peacefulness you found in the hallway, instead of whatever awkwardness waiting for you should you choose to say.

A low chuckle is heard, and you turn to face your brother’s best friend only to see that he isn’t sharing the same uneasiness you are feeling about this odd situation.

“Now, that’s better. So are you going to join me? You’re not going to just stand there all night until the party’s over, are you?” Jaebum teases you as he leans back against the bed, getting as much comfortable as he can while he sits on the cold floor. “Come sit here with me. I don’t bite,” he says while tapping the empty spot right next to him, his grin widening when he adds, “Unless you ask me to.”

You are left with no other options. Saying no to his offer would either send you back to the party downstairs or back to the room you’ll be sleeping in tonight, which is the other guest room that is closer to where the party is since your brother had insisted on keeping you close tonight. Just when you try to imagine yourself turning back around to get back to the party instead of staying, a loud cheer echoes through the house.

Looks like whatever game they did just ended, you wonder, as another cheer breaks through and people start chanting again, telling you that the party is still far from over. Might as well stay here for now rather than regretting it later.

“Fine,” you say with a sigh, before lifting the bottle of whiskey in your hand—one that you stole from the makeshift bar that your brother had set up in the kitchen. “I’ll share if you share yours.”

Through the dim light, you see the familiar grin spreading on his face again. “Don’t worry, I’m quite generous when it comes to sharing pleasure,” he teases with a wink, causing your cheeks to burn.

“Whatever,” you respond, trying your best not to get affected by his presence as you walk over to join him.

As you settle back against the foot of the bed, staying just an arm’s length away from him to stay close yet still distant enough to feel comfortable, your eyes fall on the bottles sitting next to him. The large bottle of high-quality branded liquor has been reduced to nearly half of its content, and there are a couple of small vodka bottles lying close by, with varying levels of contents—either half drunk, emptied, and only two of them still full.

Was he really thinking about drinking all of this alone?

Jaebum tilts his head, noticing the way you are eyeing his drinks. “See anything you’re interested in trying?”

“No, I’m fine,” you hurriedly answer, then take a long drink straight from your bottle to hide your face. You wince at the strong taste of whiskey, but you tough it out and force yourself to speak calmly as if nothing happened, “You look like you’re trying to drink your entire life away.”

Jaebum follows your gaze and laughs softly. “Is that how it looks?” he hums, picking up a small, nearly finished bottle of vodka and tossing the rest of its content down his throat. He savours the taste with a groan and says, “Hmmm…maybe I am. ”

He opens his eyes and looks at you with glossy eyes. Combined with the small smile he is giving you, it’s enough to cause those old familiar flutters to rise in your chest and stomach. You pick up your bottle, taking a mouthful of drink out of it that burns your throat, hoping that it would be enough to wash the feeling down, and maybe cool yourself off before it turns into something more.

Something completely unbidden.

It takes only a couple of shared drinks before you finally start sharing each other’s stories, spilling all the heartaches and misfortunes that both of you have been dealing with while living away from home.

It’s quite surreal to think that both you and Jaebum can find something to relate to and share aside from the booze that you’ve smuggled away from the party. You also find it pleasingly surprising that opening up and talking about your problems turns out to be helpful.

Even more surprising is that it seems equally helpful for both of you.

For you, who had just been dumped by your college boyfriend merely months after he started his new job in a different city, claiming that being in a long-distance relationship was a risk he wasn’t willing to take when he was building his career.

For Jaebum, who had to watch his ex-fiancee marrying someone else just over the weekend, only less than a year from the day they broke off the engagement when she first claimed to be having cold feet about the thought of marriage.

“Well, that sucks,” is all that you can say once he is done sharing his story.

Hearing your comment, Jaebum lets out an incredulous laugh. “Really? That’s all you’re going to say after I just opened up about the lowest moment of my life?”

You only laugh and shrug it off. “What more do you want me to say? Are you hoping for some kind of wise advice? From me? Or a pat on the back while I promise you that everything will be okay?” you retort with a snort, and you don’t miss the way Jaebum rolls his eyes on you.

“I wish I had more to say, but I’m not good with words and I don’t even know you or your ex enough to comment about your life,” you stop with a bitter chuckle, “—or her poor choices.”

Leaning back, you let out a deep sigh. You cannot help but realise that despite the different circumstances you both find yourselves in, you can't deny how similar your situations truly are. “But I do know how terrible it feels to know that the person you want to be with isn’t thinking the same about you. It just—” You let out another sigh, and add, ”—sucks, to be the one left behind feeling like you’ve been tossed aside.”

Jaebum says nothing for a moment but clearly appears to be thinking deeply. “I don’t even know your ex,” he says, “but I can judge—hard—and say that he’s a moron.”

“My brother said the same.” A bitter chuckle slips out of you when you think about your brother’s reaction when you first told him about the bad breakup. You may not have told your brother all the details about your fallen relationship yet, but he was able to comment about what a fool your ex had been to sacrifice a good relationship that he had spent years building with you for a new job that he had barely dedicated a month of his time, much less his entire life to.

But was the relationship you had with him really all that good? Was it enough for you to hold on to those memories as much as you did?

Looking up to the dark ceiling above you, you let your mind wander, as if you can see your entire life written somewhere up there. “I’ve been trying to think of him the same way but it’s hard to do it when I keep remembering all the good things we shared. They might not have been much, but the good memories keep overlapping with all the bad ones just when I try to forget them.”

Jaebum scoffs lightly from your side and nods. “Unfortunately, I can agree on that one.”

To hear the tone in his voice as he says that, and see the haunted look in his eyes when you look at him, an ache pulses in your chest. At the same time, you are surprised to find some comfort just by being here with him, listening to him opening up to you while sharing your own story in a way you haven’t been able to do with anyone else—allowing your lonely, broken souls to meet each other’s match.

Just as silence forms thickly around you, you find yourself looking far back into a distant past and seeing yourself when you were younger. You can also Jaebum then, existing alongside your brother’s other close friends who seemed hard to reach, much less to talk to.

Not the same way you’re doing it now, anyway.

“You know, I always thought you guys were snobs back then. Or maybe I was too intimidated by you. You were all popular in school, and my brother’s warning to stay away from you guys didn’t help much in making me feel less wary about getting close.”

Jaebum snaps a look at you and barks out a laugh. “Wait—What? What did your brother say about us?”

You shrug, smiling when you explain with a chuckle, “He just said it wouldn’t be a good idea for me to get close to you guys. Told me to stay away and not fall for any of your charms and get tricked into joining your band of groupies.”

Once again, Jaebum laughs. “Why the fuck would he say something like that?”

“Who knows?” you answer with a shrug, feigning innocence as you bite back a smile.

Because you know exactly why your brother would give you such a warning.

Compared to your older brother, who was considered one of the most popular kids at school, you were way more inexperienced—both in socialising with people and in relationships.

Your brother may have managed to keep his dating life private—from you, at least—yet the same couldn’t be said about his close friends. Jaebum and the others were quite notorious when it involved the rotation of girls they were constantly seen dating and hanging out with. Most of the boys were known as players, always spreading their charms to anyone around while breaking hearts left and right.

“I guess he was just looking out for me,” you finally admit out loud, realising that your brother may have caught your eyes wandering whenever his friends were close. It was hard not to pay attention when you had these attractive seniors hanging around nearby, sometimes even at your home with your brother. “Even if he used to tease me, he’s still my older brother, after all.”

Jaebum lets out a scoff and laughs. “That’s funny, seeing that he gave us all different kinds of warning when it came to you.”

“What do you mean? What kind of warning?”

Turning his head, Jaebum’s grin widens when he sees your reaction. “He told us that you were off limits. That we shouldn’t even think about talking or flirting with you, much less to ask you out.” Your jaw drops, which only makes him laugh. “Some of us suspected that Bambam had this silly crush on you back then, but was quick to back off after your brother warned us to stay away.”

Surprised to hear this, you cannot help but laugh. It’s not unusual for your brother to meddle with your business. Back then, being a curious teenager, having a meddling older brother felt like a burden. You used to hate it growing up, even if you knew that he only had nothing but good intentions to keep you safe from harm. Looking back at it now as an adult, you only think that the whole situation is hilarious.

“Can’t believe that you guys were so afraid of my brother to follow his silly rules,” you gently mock him while shaking your head.

“Hey! That’s not fair! Have you ever seen your brother when he got mad? Like, really mad?” Jaebum defends himself.

You only laugh in return, knowing exactly what he is talking about. You have seen your older brother’s other side that shows up whenever he is angry, and it’s not often that he may overreact over trivial things that are out of his control. But it doesn’t stop you from finding it funny for a group of bad boys to be so afraid of your brother to not risk breaking his rules.

Not that you believe that you ever had any chance with these boys in the past. You never even dreamed of having any of them make a move on you, much less pay attention to you. You know exactly what kind of girls they were attracted to, and you never saw yourself as anything remotely on par with any of those girls.

“I thought you were tough guys who’d love a challenge. At least, if I remember correctly, that was something that some of you used to brag about back then.”

“You’re one to talk,” Jaebum scoffs. “Have you ever taken a risk, even knowing the consequences and not knowing if it’s going to be worth it?”

You stop for a moment to think. “Well—”

You feel hesitant to answer, only because your mind immediately goes to the things you’ve done only to end up having your heart, hope, and dreams broken to pieces as a result. The latest risk you’ve taken, especially, involved giving your heart to a senior you met at college—someone who was smarter, more popular—that you kept questioning if you were living a dream. You’ve even come close to giving up your dream, ready to take a huge risk of moving to another city and starting over just to be with that person.

And look at where it has gotten you now. Abandoned and forgotten, left to pick up all the broken pieces, only because he wasn’t willing to take the same risk to be with you.

When you still have no answer, Jaebum lets out a scoff. “I knew it. What would a strait-laced girl like you know about taking risks? You should try to live out your life a little, be daring, then you can argue with me about what taking risks truly means.”

You hear what he is saying, yet your mind is stuck on one simple detail. You’ve never really talked to him so openly before, so you’ve never known how he really sees you as a person. Hearing it coming from him only makes you reflect on yourself the way you never did before.

Strait-laced? You wonder to yourself. Is that really how people see me?

You must admit that it doesn’t make you feel good to be seen that way. Having good grades throughout school and college and being a nice girl growing up doesn’t make you a prude.

“Hey, I’ve done stuff!” You turn to face him and start defending yourself. “Unlike you, I’ve done real daring stuff while I was away for college. I climbed a rocky mountain after graduation and built camp on the rocky peaks while there was a storm. I did bungee jumping and paragliding when I went to Bali last summer. I went surfing and—”

Jaebum raises his hands in surrender mode and laughs, cutting you off before you can continue listing all the extreme things you’ve tried ever since you left home. “Okay, daredevil. So you took risks against nature. That’s great and all, but I’m talking about the other risks. Much like how you’re daring me to cross your brother.”

You swallow hard, knowing exactly what he is saying. You look away when you start feeling deep regret over your past decisions and heartaches weighing heavy in your chest. “Oh, have I done those as well.”

Jaebum must have noticed something shifting in your mood, because his gaze softens. So does his voice when he asks, “Was it worth it?”

You let out a bitter laugh. “Would I be here planning to drink my ass off until I forget my name if it was?”

A knowing look passes over his gaze. “Your last break up.” He nods, then raises his bottle to knock it against yours. “Maybe you were betting on the wrong things to take a risk on.”

You can only smile. “And of course, you would know about it.”

The low chuckle that he gives as a response sounds hollow. “I sure do.”

Leaning back against the bed again, you take a drink from your bottle—suddenly noticing that you may have gone through more than half of it—and gently ask him, “Tell me then, how do I know what kind of risk I can bet on which I won’t be regretting later on?”

“You know that’s not how it works,” Jaebum says with a low chuckle, “And I don’t think I’m the right person to teach you something like that.”

“Right,” you hum to yourself, suddenly realising how silly it is for you to ask him for such advice.

“Maybe you can start small. Instead of diving directly into something serious like a relationship or making plans to build a future with the first person you meet who gives you attention.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Such as?”

“Ever been on a one-night stand?”

You burst out laughing. “What?”

“No? Never? Yeah, I don’t think so,” he says while shaking his head. While he is right in assuming your lack of experience in that field, it doesn’t stop you from wanting to defend yourself.

“Hey, wait a min—”

“How about casual flings? Anything other than your serious relationships? Ever been in one?”

You open your mouth to answer, only to immediately shut it back up before admitting loudly, “No, not really.”

He nods. “I figured.”

Your jaw drops. You look at him with narrowed eyes. “What does that supposed to mean?”

He tilts his head as he looks at you. At this point, you are beginning to dread the way his grin seems so enticing, and how his low voice is starting to make you feel things inside when he speaks. “It’s just that I can’t see you hooking up with random people just for fun.”

You bite your lips, hating the fact that he is right. You hate knowing he can read you easily even when he barely knows you aside from being his best friend’s sister. But something must have gone wrong with your head—or perhaps you’ve drunk too much alcohol tonight—because you cannot stop thinking about what he is trying to say.

“You’re right, it’s not something that I can see myself getting into,” you admit with a small voice, as you look back into your life and wonder how different it would have been for you if you weren’t someone who feels too much, and too deeply, when it comes to relationships.

“Maybe I should change that,” you finally say, almost to yourself rather than Jaebum. Still, it doesn’t miss Jaebum’s attention that he whips his head towards you.

“Huh? What do you mean?”

You ignore him, already getting too deep in your thoughts—perhaps something that you shouldn’t be doing when you have alcohol in your system. “I’m saying that maybe you’re right.”

“Wait, I didn’t say anything,” Jaebum quickly interjects.

“I never gave casual relationships or hooking up any thought because I’m afraid I’d get emotionally attached, like most girls do,” you turn to him and add, “I’m sure you know this too.”

Jaebum only raises his eyebrows, knowing that you are referring to his history of hooking up with random girls in the past—along with the series of drama which followed every time he ended a fling—and he just lets you continue. “But maybe that needs to change. That’s a risk that I’ve never taken before, but at least I now know not to get my emotions involved.”

He laughs, almost in disbelief. “Are you sure about that?”

“I am,” you stubbornly answer, “because I’ve sworn to keep away from love. Because I’m done with it. From now on, love is completely banned from my life. No more.”

You take a chug out of your drink and continue to ramble before Jaebum can say anything. “But that doesn’t mean that I can't have fun, right? You said it yourself, that I need to live a little, so that’s what I’m going to do.”

You can hear Jaebum chuckling from beside you. “Alright, daredevil,” he teasingly says, “And how are you supposed to do that?” You can tell without looking that Jaebum is narrowing his eyes on you when he sounds sceptical.

So you turn to him, giving him a sweet smile as you explain, “There are people downstairs that I may not see again in the future, right? I could just walk downstairs and pick out someone I’m attracted to and have one wild night before I get home.”

The more you speak, the more you feel doubtful, but you push it down and take pleasure in the way Jaebum’s eyes keep widening the more he listens. But as the excitement grows on you, so does the pounding in your head. Maybe you’ve had too much to drink already. “Although I might have to wait a minute before going down there to join the crowd of people. I need to wait until my head stops spinning.”

He lets out a low scoff and shakes his head at you. “You don’t have to go that far.”

“As a matter of fact, I think—no, I believe I do need to do this,” you cut him off. “I’m done living by the rules and being afraid to take risks that don’t go with my life planning.” Pointing the bottle in your hand his way, you continue to speak, “You were the one who put these ideas in my head, so don’t bother stopping me.”

Chuckling softly, Jaebum leans closer. “That’s not what I was saying,” he gently says, as if he can read your thoughts and knows that you aren’t exactly sure about what you are saying.

“What did you mean, then?”

Jaebum only stares at you with a look that makes you feel like he is trying to strip down every layer you have—not of your clothes, but your truth.

He softly hums before he finally speaks again. “I’m saying that maybe you don’t have to,” he says, once again with that voice of his that would easily draw people to him. Maybe have women drop their panties for him, even. But there is something different now when he speaks to you slowly, with his glossy eyes looking deeply into yours.

“I don’t have to do—what?”

“You don’t have to go through the crowds of drunk people downstairs to find someone, is all I’m saying. Aren’t you worried about your brother finding out what you’re up to? He’s still down there leading the party, isn’t he?”

As if the party itself can hear him, a loud cheer erupts from downstairs, answering his question. You can picture your brother, always the life of the party, being in the center of it. You can already imagine him pulling you to join him the moment he sees you returning to the living room. You have lost track of time, and you quickly realise that your brother can notice anytime that you’ve been gone quite a while and that he might start looking for you soon.

“Then, what should I do?”

Not a word comes from him while you are starting to doubt anything can really happen tonight. Only seconds ago, you felt like you had found your new self. But you know that this drunken resolution will lead to nothing more once you are sober. Before your mind can get into any further wanderings, Jaebum suddenly shifts closer. You turn to find his face already close to yours, while he has his arm resting behind your back and the other winding around your waist.

Surprised at the sudden closeness, you make no move to push him away. Your heart makes a stupid, unexpected leap in your chest, which only accelerates when he starts speaking to you in a low, sultry voice, “You could just look somewhere closer instead of going down there. It’s not like you don’t have a willing participant already available nearby.”

You blink, and blink again, your mind taking its sweet time processing his words that everything seems meaningless. Surely, he couldn’t have meant—

“And who might that be?” you ask with a small voice, which only seems to amuse him.

You watch the grin on his face growing wider before he teases you, “Who else is here? I don’t see anyone else, do you?”

“Hah,” you let out a sarcastic laugh, still refusing to believe what you are hearing, even if your heart is beginning to react, going out of control with its rapid beating. “Stop joking. Now you’re only mocking me.”

“I wish I was joking, but I know what I’m asking,” Jaebum says with a smile on his face, his voice lowering when he asks, “Is it really that hard to believe that I’d make such an offer?”

Before you can process what he is saying, Jaebum leans closer, close enough until you can feel his warm breath falling against your lips. The scent of his cologne, mixed with the strong smell of booze, surrounds you as he keeps you trapped between the foot of the bed and his hard body hovering close so that you can feel his heat.

“It makes perfect sense, don’t you think?” he asks you, already sounding convincing before he even starts laying out his offer, “We’ve both been scorned by our past experience, and while we’ve learned not to fall for it again, we both still have needs. I still need to forget, which drinking seemed to fail in doing, and you need to discover this new side of you without worrying about getting attached. Maybe I can teach you a thing or two about it since I know just exactly how to do it. And you know who I am, so you’d know how to find me and kick my butt off in case you regret it in the morning.”

We’re still not friends, and not close enough for that level of trust, is what you want to say to him.

But the words refuse to leave your lips, and your mind is getting hazy from how close he is getting. His nose brushes against yours, and your heart once again makes a giant leap which is so hard to ignore. He tilts his head, his lips coming closer to yours for a little tease, making your lips tingle.

“Well? Come on, think about it,” he murmurs, with his lips hovering close but not enough to touch. Yet, between your hazy mind and the alarm bells ringing inside your head—warning you about your brother and his rules, about how much of a bad idea this is—you can feel yourself drawn into it. Drawn into him.

“I think—” you barely manage to say, “This is going to be a bad idea.” You lift your gaze to look into his eyes and immediately feel like you are drowning in the depth of his gaze.

Jaebum bites his lips while lowering his gaze. “What if I can change your mind?”

“What are you planning—oh!”

Whatever it was that you wanted to say dies on your tongue when Jaebum presses his lips on yours. He tenderly moulds his lips against yours, instead of devouring them in a heated kiss. Yet it’s still enough to steal words from your mouth.

I must be going crazy, is the last thing that comes across your mind before you wrap your arms around his neck and return the kiss, allowing yourself to melt into his heat. You can feel him smiling into the kiss, pleased to know that he has practically won you over as you press your lips harder against his.

As he deepens the kiss, the world around you seems like it’s spinning. It takes a moment before you realise that your whole body is tilting backwards, pushed under his weight as he gently lowers you back on the floor. The dust-covered carpet cushions your weight as you rest on your back. While you are trying to get comfortable, your eyes flutter open to see him slowly crawling over you.

A soft moan slips out of you as he reclaims your mouth again. His tongue reaches inside, as if demanding you to pay attention to him instead of letting your mind wander and let it get filled with doubt. He runs his hands down your waist, his chest pressing you down against the hard floor, and then he stops when you protest with a whimper when your back starts rubbing against the rough carpet beneath you.

“Hmmm, this won’t do,” he murmurs against your lips, his eyes searching your face to find any sign of discomfort. With a hum, he glances over to the bed and pushes himself up.

The world around you starts spinning once again as Jaebum scoops you up from the floor and lifts you in his arms. You barely have the chance to hold on when he moves towards the bed and gently lays you down on the mattress. The sheets feel cold beneath you, yet he quickly makes it up with his warmth when he joins you.

The sight of him hovering above you, with his eyes glowing in the dark, full of dark intent, feels like a part of a fever dream. Everything that he said he wanted to do to you, you can see it in his gaze. It’s enough to leave you breathless, to make you feel hot inside. To feel like you are wanted.

A grin forms on his face as he asks, “Now, where were we?”

Once again, the crippling doubt inside you holds you back, when you can easily pull him down to you and take over. “You were trying to convince me,” you answer with a whisper, when you wish to feel his kiss again so he can stop you from thinking so hard.

“Did I do a good job, then?”

You take a deep breath. “I—” you try to answer, but the moment you see the look he is giving you, everything inside you, including your sane mind, simply stops working.

Outside, coming all the way from downstairs, the music is still blaring loudly the later it gets in the night. The sound of people dancing, chatting, and cheering over some sort of drinking game can be heard through the thick walls.

But here, the air is getting thick with tension, and it’s hard to focus on anything else when you are pressed down against the hard mattress beneath you, and you have your brother’s best friend hovering on top of you with a sick, teasing grin on his face.

And oh, how much you struggle to keep your eyes away from those enticing lips, knowing how good they feel when they are pressed against yours.

All you have to do is lean closer or pull him down to you, and you can have that kiss once again.

“So? What do you say?” he asks again while his gaze moves to your lips, lingering for a few seconds too long as he catches you licking your lips, tasting the ghost of his kiss. “It’s a one-time offer, and time is ticking. How much longer do you think before your brother comes up here and catches us together?”

You cannot help but grin at the mention of your brother. “Aren’t you afraid that he might just do that and break your nose again like he did years ago?” you ask, referring to the infamous incident in the past when they had a massive fight over a silly girl who turned out to be playing these boys around—the perfect reverse play of what they used to do to the girls at school who worshipped the ground they walked on.

Jaebum only laughs it off, and your heart skips a beat when you realise how much his voice has changed over the years. And how much you still love hearing it the same way you did then.

“I think it’ll be worth the risk. As long as you’re in.”

Worth the risk.

Yeah, there’s nothing stopping your heart from trying to break free from your chest now that you hear such words. You shouldn’t believe it. But you want to believe it. You want to believe that he thinks you are worth risking your brother’s wrath.

“Well? Are you in? Or are you going to walk out that door and forget everything we just talked about?”

You bite your lip as you consider your options. His offer is tempting, but are you brave enough to take that risk?

One night. No attachment. No promises. And you get to leave this place free of your pent-up frustrations and needs. Maybe dare yourself to feel some pleasure from the one you are forbidden to touch.

Even if you might have to ignore the familiar flutters in your chest rising the more you look at him—the same way it used to happen all those years ago whenever you saw him when he was hanging out with your older brother.

“Not a chance,” you answer him with a grin, before you lift your legs and wrap them around his waist, your arms coming around his neck as you pull him down towards you. “Game on.”

Wearing a victorious smile on his face, Jaebum claims your mouth in a kiss, and your entire body softens. He pushes his tongue to deepen the kiss, taking possession of every last bit of doubt you might still have left until there is nothing more but lust and passion and all you can feel is the need you want him to fulfil.

Clutching the back of his shirt, you begin to pull it upward, and he slips down to let you strip him off of it before he does the same with your top. Tossing your blouse away, Jaebum begins crawling down, his lips tracing the length of your neck on his way down, brushing gently on your breasts as he peels your lacy bra off of your skin. Then he continues making his way down, his hands grabbing hold of the waistband of your pants before tucking them down your legs, taking your flimsy panties along with it.

Cold breeze washes over your skin once you are left bare and naked on the bed, but it’s quickly replaced by the heat of his gaze perusing you with a look of hunger written on his face. He runs his hands down your waist, to your hips, sliding them under your thighs as he bends down to trace your skin with his kisses. You feel his mouth moving close to your center, causing your heartbeat to pick up its pace.

He doesn’t waste his time teasing you. Tightening his grip on your thighs, he smoothly dives between your legs, burying his face at the center of your heat.

A moan slips through your lips when you feel his tongue slipping through your wet folds. You feel his mouth wrapping itself around your clit and giving it a suck, causing your back to arch and a louder moan comes rumbling out of you when a delectable rush comes flowing through your body. Your hand clumsily land on his head, fingers winding through the strands of his hair as you search for something to hold on to while you rock your hips against his lips.

You hear him chuckling softly and moaning against your heat, before he begins to move his tongue and mouth more aggressively, alternating between pushing his tongue into your warmth and licking your arousal to suckling on your throbbing clit. His actions drive you over to the edge, your orgasm tearing your body as you continue to rock against his face, following the rhythm of your pulse.

It comes too quickly, stemmed from your pent-up frustrations and nerves, yet neither of you has yet to have enough. Finger clenching tightly on the strands of his hair, you push his face to your quivering center, wordlessly telling him not to stop. With a hum, Jaebum continues—lapping, licking, and sucking—and adds his fingers into the mix, pushing them deeply through your pulsing walls and causing another dynamic orgasm to tear through your body.

“Jaebum…fuck!” you curse between your cries of pleasure, unable to hold your voice down.

Yet he makes no sign of stopping. The sounds you are making only seem to be urging him on, as he continues working his mouth and fingers on your heat.

It isn’t until moments later, as the spasms coming out of your center begin to subside, that Jaebum finally lets you go. With one last kiss on your soaking folds, he pulls away and shifts back until he reaches the foot of the bed.

As he rises on his feet, you open your eyes to look at him, marvelling at the sight of him—his chest glistening with a thin sheen of sweat, his messy hair that comes from the work of your fingers, and his slick lips, still wet from your release.

“I wish I could take a picture of you right now,” he murmurs while he starts working on his belt and pants, his eyes never wavering from you as he takes everything off.

Keeping your gaze on him, you follow every movement as the final pieces of clothing leave his skin. Your breath catches at the sight of his thick shaft bobbing out of its restraint. You can almost see it twitching and pulsing as Jaebum continues to look at you, his gaze runs from the tip of your toes to your hair, going back and forth as he takes his time to get his fill of the image of you lying vulnerable on the cold bed.

This is happening, you tell yourself as you inhale a deep breath. You cannot believe that you are seconds away from actually fucking your brother’s best friend. It feels hot and naughty—risky—but the thought itself is so damn enticing that your body is humming with new desire.

Jaebum licks his lips and wraps his hand around his rigid cock. His gaze remains on you as he slowly strokes himself, getting himself harder. The sight of him touching himself while watching you does wild things to your mind. It feels exhilarating, and you don’t even question if this sensation has anything to do with the drink you had earlier, knowing that this is all because of him.

Feeling brazen under his gaze, you move your hands to trace your skin, going up until you reach your bare breasts. Gently, you cup the soft flesh with your palms and begin kneading, and embrace the waves of heat rolling through your body. The sensation gets stronger when you watch him licking his lips, his hand moving slightly faster, as if watching you has put him in a trance.

“Are you going to just stand there and watch? Or am I going to have to do this alone?” you tease him with a low voice that sounds completely unfamiliar to your own ears, while slowly folding your legs up, spreading them open to show him where you want him to be.

A groan slips out of his lips as he watches you, enthralled, and Jaebum hastily climbs the bed, moving swiftly to cover your body with his. “I already promised that I’ll be the one showing you everything,” he grumbles as he covers your wrists with his hands and gently pulls them away from your chest. Holding your wrists together in one hand, he brings them over your head and keeps them there.

“Hold still,” he whispers, as if restraining you wouldn’t be enough to keep you from moving. “And try to keep your voice down this time. We don’t know if anyone is going to find their way up here.”

He covers your mouth with his and your body relaxes against his as you lean into the kiss. He presses you down into the bed under his weight and starts running his free hand down your body. You feel his touch on your breast, already sensitive after your teasing touch, and your chest arches into his palm.

Jaebum pinches your nipples, and then he bends down, his mouth capturing one peak after another, tongue swirling around the tips until they become hard and raw.

“Ah, fuck—” you curse with a gasp when each brush of mouth and finger sends delicate sparks that travel all the way down to your core. Everything inside you throbs—not of pain, but pleasure—and you can no longer hold back the cries coming out of your lips when Jaebum latches on one nipple and gives a light bite.

Hearing your voice, Jaebum releases his mouth from your throbbing nub with a pop and pulls back just enough for you to look at his face. Under the shadows of the limited lights filtering through the windows, his gaze feels intimidating, yet enthralling at the same time. The way he looks at you makes you feel desirable that it unleashes everything inside you that you never knew existed.

“I told you to keep your voice down,” he complains with a deep voice that sounds almost like a growl. “Anyone can hear you if they get anywhere close, and it won’t be long for your brother to find out what we’re doing.”

“I thought you were willing to risk it?” you tease him, which only makes his eyes grow darker.

“Are you challenging me?” he asks you with a low voice. It stirs the insides of your belly, yet you ignore it for the moment and shrug playfully.

“What if I am?”

A low chuckle rumbles from him. There is a dark glint in his eyes as he gently pulls your thigh up, folding your leg until your hips are slightly lifted from the bed. A wicked smile spreads on his face as he leans down, pressing his lips on the corner of your lips and murmurs, “Naughty girl.”

Anticipating a kiss, you never expect to feel pain flashing from the side of your bare bottom, inflicted by none other than his wandering palm.

“Hey!”

Opening your eyes widely, you see him grinning with pride. He tightens his hold on your wrists to keep you still as you wriggle beneath him while he runs his other hand around the burn from his unwarranted smacking.

“What? Don’t naughty girls deserve to be punished and spanked?”

Something sparks inside you. While you are more inexperienced compared to him, you have learned about a variety of sex plays that one could enjoy in bed to know what he is doing. “Oh, so you like that kind of game, huh?”

Jeabum bites your bottom lip. “It’s not a game, baby. I like to be in control,” he murmurs, then lifts his head to look into your eyes to ask, “Are you afraid of me? Will that scare you?”

Nibbling your lips, you consider his words. You’ve never known that pain could be so pleasing. Your skin still burns after the impact of his light spanking, yet it seems to amplify the pleasure pulsing right inside your core when the pain is slowly subsiding under his incessant touch.

“No,” you answer with a whimper, “Not at all.” You stop fighting his restraint and instead use it as leverage as you push your hips upward, taunting him, “Come on, show me how you’re going to punish me for being bad.”

“Fuck,” he chuckles nervously, stunned, but is quick to recover as he folds your legs up and smacks the other side of your butt in response. A sharp gasp leaves your lips when you feel the sting, which turns into a soft sigh as he gently rubs the pain away, giving you a brief moment of respite before landing another smack near the tender skin that he first touched.

Jaebum repeats the light smacking a couple of more times, going back and forth from one side to another, always followed by gentle touches to soothe the pain away. By the time he is done, the pain no longer stings so badly. The throbbing on your skin has travelled deep into your center, replacing every bit of pain with pleasure so raw that is barely comprehensible to your mind.

“Oh, you liked it, didn’t you?” Jaebum teases you with a low whisper, chuckling softly at the way you are rocking your hips against his palm. Letting go of your hand, he holds down your hips and slips his fingers between your folds, humming softly as he is met with your slick arousal.

“Look at you, getting hot and wet after a bit of spanking. I never expected that you would have this wanton side hidden under your good girl facade,” he keeps muttering as he continues pushing his fingers inside your heat, moving them between your throbbing walls at a languid pace while you begin rocking back into his fingers. “I kind of like this side of you.”

You can barely hear his voice at this point. Your mind is blinded by the sensations you are feeling. Incoherent noises keep coming out of your lips, and your body is moving on its own, chasing for every bit of pleasure you can get from his touch.

Jaebum bends down, pressing his lips on the tip of your breasts. “Fuck, I want to be inside you so bad, baby,” he mutters breathlessly between giving your nipples teasing kisses. The touch of his lips feels distracting, along with the steady thrusts of his fingers inside your heat as pleasure rocks through your body, making it hard for you to focus on his words. Yet you still don’t miss what he is trying to say.

Rocking your hips against his, you look up through your bleary eyes and whisper, “Yes, please. I need you…inside me…now.”

You are not one to beg for anything. Ever. Nothing like this. But the need to feel him is clawing at your chest. You want him. Your body needs him. And there is nothing that can stop you from begging him to let you have him.

Jaebum says nothing, but his actions are enough to answer your plea. Pushing his fingers deeper, he presses his thumb against your clit, rubbing the flesh just enough to send your body spiralling towards the edge.

Trying your best to hold back your cries, you bite your lip and bury your fingers on his shoulders. But Jaebum isn’t one to let you go off easily. With his mouth still working around your breast, he gives your nipple a lick, before capturing the hardened nub between his mouth. You feel him humming against your skin, right around your puckered flesh, before a searing pain sparks across your body when he bites down.

“Ah…fuck. Jaebum!”

Screaming out his name, you almost cry as your orgasm tears right through your body. While it’s not yet enough to satiate your need, it is still enough to make you feel like you are floating up high. Every cell in your body sings, all coming alive under his touch, and the heat unfolding in your core spreads like wildfire.

Before you can recover, Jaebum has already made his move. Looking pleased with himself, a smile spreads on Jaebum’s face as he pulls back, dragging his fingers carefully out of your pulsing heat, leaving behind the rapid throbbing inside you to fill the void he left behind.

Without wasting any more time, he rises on the bed and pulls your ankles up to his shoulders, keeping your hips elevated. Then he presses forward and drives his full length into your quivering core with one firm thrust. You cry out loudly at the force of his thrust. You may have gotten slick and wet enough for him to slide in easily, but your pussy is still sensitive after the multiple orgasms that the intrusion drives a delicious pain that rocks your entire body.

Your back arches off the bed, and he is quickly drawn towards your full breasts as they once again rise before his eyes. His hand that isn’t holding your thigh up reaches down to give your soft flesh a firm hold.

He gives your breast a gentle knead, taking away your attention from the tightness down below as he begins to fuck you hard with deep rhythmic thrusts, his hard shaft plundering your body.

“Oh…oh, God!” you keep sputtering random words when you feel the pleasure rising inside you like a tidal wave.

He continues driving into you, getting deeper with each thrust and sending you almost slipping on the bed. His hands move down, gripping your hips to pull you back to him before you are pushed all the way back to the end of the bed. Driving you back against him allows him to get deeper. You feel the force knocking the air out of your chest, while waves of pleasure keep rolling through your body with each thrust, each rock of his hips, and you find yourself already hanging over the edge of your climax.

You reach up, grasping a hold of his strong arms as you join the rhythm of his thrusts, rocking and pushing against him at the same pace, until you begin to feel the ripples of your climax rising, uncoiling, ready to devour you as you quickly reach for the edge.

Opening his eyes, Jaebum drops one of your legs, keeping hold of the other just to keep you spread open for him as he bends forward, enveloping your body with his. His mouth finds yours then, kissing you deeply to swallow the sounds of your moans. Then his lips begin to move away, going down your chin, crawling its way to the column of your throat, before going up again to capture your earlobe.

“I’ve always wanted to fuck you for so long,” he whispers to your ear, too soft of a voice for such dirty words that it makes your head spin hearing it coming from him. Then he thrusts forward, pressing deeper before he begins rocking again, hard and fast, he continues pumping his thick cock into the depth of your warmth. “Fuck, you feel so damn good!”

You give in to the rising pleasure, your head falling back into the pillows while your chest once again rises and arches with how intense it feels. Your mind is filled with bliss, that you can barely focus on his words, or anything else that is happening around you.

The party below seems so far away, even if you can still hear the beat of the music vibrating through the floor and walls. But none of it matters now. What matters to you right now is him; the pace of his thrusts that continue relentlessly without fail, moving faster and harder, and the way he is working your body with his expert hands.

The grip that he has on your hips feels unyielding, anchoring you to him while denying you escape as he chases for his climax. You can feel his fingers pressing harder into your skin, nails scrapping on your soft flesh, no doubt leaving some marks and indents that you may find much later on once everything is over.

“Are you close?” he breathlessly asks while moaning, showing you signs of his coming release.

The answer coming out of your mouth sounds like a sharp cry, “Mmmh—yes!”

Jaebum captures your chin and turns your face to look at him. “Keep your eyes on the door. You’ve been loud for a while now, and I know you didn’t lock the door when you came in,” he gently says, grinning as realisation dawns on you. He’s right. That was quite a risk to take for you to enter the room without locking and going further with this whole thing without checking things over. Fear grips at your chest, though it only intensifies the pulsing happening down below, right here he is burying his cock into.

“What would your brother think if he sees you like this, writhing like a pure, little nymph and taking my hard cock deep inside your pussy?” Jaebum questions you with a voice so low it almost sounds like a growl.

You have no idea which triggers the most delightful, yet the most carnal pleasure to roll through your body; the deep voice which vibrates from his chest, his dirty words that are planting these wicked images in your mind, the steady thrusts of his cock inside your heat, or the visual image of getting caught fucking your brother’s best friend, in your brother’s house, while people are partying downstairs and most possibly hanging out in the other rooms present on this floor.

“Fuck, you’re tightening around me. Thinking about getting caught turns you on, huh?” Jaebum says with a furious grunt, yet without missing a single thrust as he rocks his body against yours. He pushes deep and shudders, just as your walls are clenching tight around him.

“Oh, yeah. That’s it, baby.”

He keeps muttering the same words over and over again, coming together with his incessant thrusts. You watch as his eyebrows crease, as the veins in his neck are straining, his breathing laboured heavily, and the sounds he keeps making are mixed with a series of moans. You can feel the telltale signs of his release pulsing inside your depth, going in the same rhythm as yours as it begins to rapidly build up inside you.

Getting lost in the pleasure, Jaebum digs his fingers into your hips and thighs as he continues to savagely pound into you. When once again his body shudders, your body pleasantly trembles at the same time.

“Look at me, baby,” his strained voice growls, demanding your attention. And you simply give it to him, wanting to look at the one who is giving you this carnal pleasure right in the eyes just to convince yourself that this is real.

Once your eyes are on him, your body is giving in to the pleasure, Jaebum moves his hand between your rocking bodies. You feel a slight pressure on your throbbing clit as his thumb finds your sensitive bud, and you can feel your muscles clamping around his cock, sucking around his girth as he slides in and out of you at a rapid pace.

“Come for me, baby,” he growls, just in time you feel the coil in your stomach snapping, then he gives your clit a sharp flick while he buries himself deep inside you. “Come.”

Under his command, you tip over the edge, shattering into a million pieces that shoot up through you like a fountain. Your chest feels tight when you scream out your climax, yet neither of you cares to stop it as he joins you with his deep moans. Jaebum continues giving you a couple of more thrusts, until you feel him shuddering at the same time your whole body quakes with your final release, and he joins you with a loud shout coming out of his lips, the warmth of his cum filling your tight walls that it almost sends you to another orgasm.

You almost lose your sense of balance, when you can barely recognise between left and right, top to bottom, until you feel your body—now all hot and covered with sweat—pressing against the sheets beneath you, all messed up under your weight and the rigorous fucking, and the slickness of his cum seeping out of your throbbing center.

When you feel him lowering your trembling leg down to the mattress, you slowly open your eyes, finding Jaebum bringing one of your hands to his lips. He kisses your wrist, before stepping away to grab his discarded shirt to start cleaning all the mess pooling on the apex of your thighs.

“Do you think we were too loud?” you whisper to him once he is done and joins you back on the bed, lying right beside you with a content sigh.

The sounds from the party below have started to grow distant, a sign that the party is slowly winding down, but not completely ending just yet.

While the rest of the house is still filled with the remaining noises from the party, the room is filled with the silence that falls heavy once all the delirium comes to a halt.

As you lie there on the bed, with the shards of your climax still continuing to course through your limbs while you are struggling to control your breath, you feel your body warming up with contentment and the presence of Jaebum’s body heat as he pulls you close to his chest.

Meanwhile, your mind seems to have sobered up, allowing you to process everything that had just happened.

As if he can feel the gears in your brain working hard, Jaebum shifts on the bed, and once again his face comes into view.

“Want to get out of here? My new place is within walking distance from here. Maybe we can continue where we left off and finish the rest of the alcohol we still have before your brother catches us with the stolen goods.”

His offer seems genuine. It also provides a chance to escape the possibility of having to deal with reality, and everything else that involves your brother and facing the consequences of your actions. And you do still have some bottles to finish.

“I like that idea.”

Your body is still strained and sore, yet it doesn’t take long for both of you to get dressed and pack up all of the remaining bottles to take with you in your escape.

You can barely remember how you manage to slip away from the house unnoticed, even with the party still lingering and your brother’s guests lounging tiredly everywhere you look, or how you are able to reach Jaebum’s new apartment on your wobbly legs.

Everything blurs as you continue your business with Jaebum at his place for the rest of the night until morning comes, only that none of it involves finishing the rest of the alcohol that you’ve managed to snatch away from your brother’s party, but has everything to do with the lessons that Jaebum had promised you about embracing pleasure. And you make no effort to put a stop to it when Jaebum continues giving you pleasure until the next day comes, continuing while your minds are completely sober.

Seems like you actually are terrible with all this one-night stand business, after all.

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