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A tentative knock on the wooden door echoes through the room.
“Come in,” you call carelessly, adjusting your sleeve cuff by the light of the half-curtained window.
The handle turns and the double-click of high-heeled shoes drums against the hard floor.
“You wanted to see me, master?”
“Hmm?” you raise an eyebrow, turning to see a blushing maid blinking up at you expectantly. She tucks a loose strand of long, red hair behind her ear and closes the door.
“Ah yes, come in.
Her hands folded delicately in front of her, the maid sweeps across the room and bows lightly before you.
“How may I be of service to you, my lord? What is it you wanted of me?”
You glance over her appreciatively and tuck a finger under her chin, lifting it to get a better look at those bright, golden eyes. “What’s your name, my pretty girl?”
“Mary Vanderwood, sir.”
You nearly collapse, doubled over in a sputtering cough. “Oh my god, Saeyoung, do not bring that name into the bedroom, I am not calling you that,” you manage to hiss.
“What??” he stage-whispers back, barely hiding a grin, “That’s always been the name of my maid persona!”
“NO.”
“Okay, okay,” he snickers and clears his throat, slipping back into light falsetto. “Mary, sir. It’s Mary.”
“I know,” you drop his chin without warning and turn toward the window, squaring your hips and fiddling with the buttons of your cuff cooly.
“...You do, sir?” He breathes dramatically and steps toward you. You can’t help but twitch a smile out of sight. Saeyoung’s acting is always so over-the-top no matter the persona he adopts, like he was raised his whole life on an excessive diet of game shows and Korean dramas. Not to be outdone, you brush back the curtain slightly, letting the evening light silhouette your tailored figure. You can’t be sure, but you could almost hear him swear appreciatively under his breath behind you.
“Yes, Mary,” you continue, keeping your voice low and resonant like you practiced. “You see, I’ve been keeping an eye on you ever since you came here. The other servants all do excellent work of course—the slender one with the long hair, the matron with her sharp exterior, the doe-eyed blonde, and of course the tall, dark butler… but you…. You have always captured my—special attention.” You throw him a glance over your shoulder, taking care to jut out your jaw and show off the angled contour of your neck.
“And… why is that, my lord?” He takes another step and closes in on you, quite taller than you now in his heels, but still somehow looking up at you through thick eyelashes. “...If I may be so bold to ask?”
“You may,” you finish rolling back your sleeves to your elbow and reach for a strand of the long, red hair trailing down his shoulders, rolling the silky fibers between your fingers. You bring it to your lips in a seductive kiss and murmur, “You can be much, much bolder.”
“Then…” he turns his face away innocently, acting flustered, “what is it about me that you find… favorable?”
“Hmm, where to begin…” you exhale, stroking your jaw and baring the knot of your wrist bone, which his eyes follow intently, to your approval. “You have a way with the others that… can’t quite be pinned down. I think they see it, too. They might seem intimidated, but really, they’re somewhat in awe of you. Jealous, even. They whisper about you behind your back, but not unkindly. It’s simply that there’s something about you they cannot figure out. I suppose you could say what drew me to you was… that mystery. I can see that you carry many, many secrets behind those eyes of yours. And in these fingers…”
You lift one of his hands and trace the calluses on his knuckles, the thin scars he wasn’t even aware he had. Today they were soft, clearly bathed in lotion, and his nails were painted a flawless, unchipped crimson. You lift his palm and press it gently to your lips, exhaling lightly.
“I can only imagine what these hands are capable of.”
“They are capable of anything you wish, my lord.” He gazes sideways at you, still arching his neck demurely. “I am yours to command.”
You grip on his hand tightens involuntarily, but he pretends not to notice.
“Is there… anything else that catches your eye?” He pouts his lip, fluffing the skirt out behind him carelessly. “As your servant it’s my duty to memorize what pleases you.”
You almost laugh, but force your composure. “Naturally,” you huff and turn away, taking your seat on a large wooden chair and leaning your shoulders back to take in all of him at once. His look is flawless, he had clearly preened with utmost and practiced care. The pull of his dress provides him a slight shape, though his slightly wide shoulders and chest give his frame away. You don’t mind at all, you prefer it, even. Lips parting, you notice a lacy black strap peeking over his shoulder, just below the collar of his dress.
“You’re breathtaking, Mary. You’re more slender than you look, and you’re quite handsome in black.”
“Oh? Go on, your grace.” He strides calmly toward you until he’s hovering, nearly straddling you, heels clacking and emphasizing the arch of his calves. You thank the universe for his dark, sheer stockings.
“And those legs, they’re absolutely stunning,” you comment cheekily, eyeing lovingly below his skirt, “Do you get them from your mother?”
“No, sir,” his eyes flash confidently in the candlelight and he swings those legs over your lap, lowering his weight slowly and crooning in your ear, “she didn’t leave me a thing in the world. I grew these myself.”
“Then,” you smile mischievously, trailing your fingers up his smooth thigh, stopping just under his skirt hem, “it’ll be alright if I borrow them for a bit, won’t it?”
The breath catches noticeably in his chest and your eyes narrow triumphantly. You find the edge of his stocking and slide a fingernail along it, plucking at the garter strap.
“What will you do with them, master?” he asks, far from innocently.
Frowning slightly, you find the corner of his jaw and let your breath cloud there, mouth grazing his skin. “I haven’t decided yet, my dear.”
He hums curiously and you laugh, keeping your voice deep and seeing a slight shudder trickle over his shoulders. Catching his chin, you pretend to scrutinize his face, but almost get lost in his eyes, more striking and seductive in his makeup than you’ve ever seen them before.
You run a thumb beneath his lower lip, trying not to smear his impressively even foundation, and admire his filled-out mouth. “That’s a lovely shade of lipstick you’re wearing. What’s it called? It looks very striking on you.”
“Really, sir?” He spreads his hands over your flattened chest, tugging you toward him by the necktie, and leaning forward into your lap. “Because... I thought it might look better all over you.”
Damn, he’s good, you manage to think before he seals your mouth with a painfully slow kiss. He pecks at the corner of your lips and pulls away to admire his imprint, smudging it purposely with a thumb and smirking. Trying to keep the lead, you run your hands down his waist—straight, where the dress would imply a curve—and tug him closer.
“Mary, I want to leave evidence of myself on you,” you whisper teasingly, echoing his own words from your very first night together. “I want to hold you tight and love you all night so you’ll remember me forever. Will you let me?”
“Oh my god,” Saeyoung whispers, shoving you lightly. “That was one time, I was distraught and being dramatic, okay? We agreed to never speak of that again…”
“Sorry,” you laugh, kissing his ear in apology, “I couldn’t resist.”
He wrinkles his powdered nose and pouts. You kiss it away, and he eventually surrenders.
Despite your competing roles, his lips feel familiar and warm, and you lean effortlessly into them. He slows for a moment to kiss you sweetly, caressing your bottom lip with the drag of his tongue, and you feel him dip into you slightly. You meet him at every turn, reaching up into his kisses and pressing him forward, challenging him for more.
A light groan escapes his parted lips between kisses, and you reply with the fading hum in your throat, letting your hands wander the stretch of his back in tandem with your slow inhale. He shifts his hips closer to you, letting pressure fall to your pubic bone and sending a hiss through your nose while your mouths are locked together, and you feel the line of his lips pull taught in a self-satisfied smile. Not to be outdone, you bite into his upper lip and hear a falsettoed moan of approval.
“Sir,” he whispers, having to raise his voice above the chirp of your harsh kisses against his throat that you intend to leave bruises with. “You keep me in such suspense…”
“I want to know all of you, my darling,” you pour out your words along his jaw, sliding your hands up beyond the ridge of his stockings over the gap of smooth, bare thighs, before rounding their edges and dragging your fingertips around his ass until they nearly meet, finding the sudden delicate texture of lace clinging to his skin.
“Ohhh,” you rumble appreciatively, dragging out the voiced exhale as you pinch the material between your fingers. “What a lovely surprise you’ve kept for me, my angel.” You squeeze the irresistible plush of his cheeks with a smirk at the ready.
“Of course, my lord,” Saeyoung blinks innocently, but the crinkle at his nose gives him away. “I want everything to be exactly to your tastes.”
“You are, my darling,” you graze your thumb along his chin, cupping his jaw in your hand reverently and hoping your sincerity reaches him. “You are everything I desire… and more.”
You kiss at his neck, burying your face deeper until your mouth finds the base of his wig and you pull back. Your fingers trace his nearly perfectly smooth skin appreciatively, but despite a clearly painstaking effort at a thorough shave, you can still feel the whisper of stubble beneath his jawline. Smiling against his throat, you kiss him softly, working your way to the indent of his clavicle, and drinking in the sweet, floral perfume that clings beneath his chin.
He tugs tantalizingly at his dress collar, letting it slide almost off one shoulder, and drops his voice to a breathy whisper. “Don’t you want to see more of me, master?”
You laugh lightly. “I’m enjoying every bit of you slowly,” you assure him. “You’re so very lovely, my dear…”
“But sir…” his painted fingernails pluck at the collar of your own shirt, travelling down to press into the hem of your dress pants. “You haven’t shown me any of yourself, yet, either.”
“So eager…” you laugh appreciatively, but internally feel yourself beginning to sweat. “Do you wish to see me, darling?”
“Oh, yes,” he whispers desperately, clutching at your waist for added effect. His voice pitch is calculated to perfection, but the longing in his tone is genuine. “I’ve been aching to see you like this. Before you even knew.”
For a moment you nearly forget the scene or your respective roles. Your hands clutch at the fabric of his dress and you kiss him fiercely, then gently, almost in apology. You pull away reluctantly and press a finger to his puffed lips.
“Allow me a moment to prepare for you, darling.”
His shoulders scrunch upward in anticipation that can’t completely be for the sake of acting. You grip him purposely by the ass to lift him from your lap, seeing the corners of his lips twitch in response as he allows himself to be directed by your hands. His heels click backward onto the hard floor and he pushes his long hair back self-consciously, smoothing out the hitches of his skirt and watching you carefully as you slink behind the desk, reaching into one of the drawers and removing the bundle inside.
You had planned to slip out of sight and arrange yourself before returning, but his obstinate, yearning stare has emboldened you, and you cross half the distance toward him, undoing your belt and revealing a harness-like set of straps beneath your trousers. You wind the belt deliberately around your hand and tug it tightly before setting it on the desk with a clink. The trousers slouch below your hips and you slide them down, kicking off your crisp leather shoes and stepping out of them, baring your own laced panties beneath the harness. Saeyoung’s lips go thin while he watches hungrily and you unbutton your shirt for good measure, letting it drape from your shoulders and revealing the binding at your chest. You unwrap the steaming, hot towel in your hands and carefully remove a warmed strap-on attachment, fastening it to the hub of your harness just below your waist.
“Fuck,” Saeyoung breathes lustfully, breaking character again with the smile he saves only for you, “you thought of everything. You’re amazing, you know that? I love you…”
“Of course, Mary,” you keep your voice sensually low, but just above a whisper. “I want you to know how much care I am taking to make you feel at ease… I promise to make it so that you to feel nothing but pleasure at my hands.”
“Sir,” his cheeks flush, almost on command, and his hands lead him to your chest where they wander upward, winding through your necktie as he draws your lips to his, hesitating right before their impact. He ghosts over your mouth with his breath, leaving you aching for his kiss, and eventually smirks with the force of an idea that is clearly too good to pass up. Before you realize it, he darts away with a swish of his petticoat, snatching one of the glossy, silken pillows from the bed, and lays it carefully before your feet. In one swift motion he kneels on top of it and fluffs out his skirt around his knees, grasping your hips with one hand and your new attachment with the other, and brings his chin level with the end of it.
His mouth hovers around it and he sighs, letting his red lips brush the tip, and your toes curl in your shoes as you realize he is pouring hot breath over the skin of it. Any uncertainties that had lingered in your mind disappear as he makes it clear that he is making this as real as possible. He isn’t treating this like a novelty, or a toy, he wants it to feel like this is you he’s worshiping. The glance that he gives you before pressing his lips to it isn’t Mary’s. It’s your Saeyoung that looks up at you, assuring you that he means every gesture, and that he wants every part of you.
He kisses it so lovingly, gently at first, then open-mouthed, like the way he’s always kissed your collarbone or your chest. It sends shivers up your spine. Two faint red streaks are left behind in the wake of his mouth, and half of a laugh twitches in your chest. He hums contentedly, mumbling, “You’re warm…”
For a moment it feels slightly alienating—the disappointment that you can’t feel the sensation of his clever, adoring mouth against your own skin. But being forced to imagine it is an entirely new and secretly thrilling sensation. He drags his tongue from the base to the tip, clearly pleased when your hips unconsciously follow the motion, like they’re magnetized.
Saeyoung watches you through thick false eyelashes, slyly gauging your reaction, before surging forward without warning, mouth closed over nearly half of your new length now. You suck in a breath and are unable to release it as you hear his gentle murmur escape around the attachment, and the low sound of suction as his lips adjust over you once, twice, three times. It continues mercilessly, and you realize he is taking every opportunity to telegraph each movement through sound to make up for the lack of tactile benefit.
You smile gratefully and stroke his cheek appreciatively. “You have… such a lovely voice, Mary… it’s enough to drive me mad.”
Dragging his mouth off painfully slowly, making sure to let you see his teeth grazing the top and underside and delighting in your shudder, his lips part from the tip with the sound of a deep kiss being torn from him. Your chin is straining forward, desperate for more and aching to feel him when he leans forward again, pouting lips hovering above the tip. Breath caught in your chest, you wait in suspense for his next move when suddenly you feel the kiss he presses to the tip somehow also come in contact with you. Glancing down you see his left hand has wound its way inside the elastic lace of your underwear and his fingers reach you inside them, swiping carefully in synch with the motion of touch from his tongue.
It is your turn to let out an involuntary moan. He breaks contact each time he pulls away, keeping a hand anchored to your hip as you arch and sway. You’re mumbling something, hoping it’s still in character, and he watches you intently as he works. He applies a gentle pressure and you run your fingers through your own hair desperately, clutching at the carefully tied-back strands and accidentally loosening a few.
“Wait…” you manage to say, though it takes all your willpower, and he pulls back in mild surprise, but not before intentionally painting a strand of saliva from the tip to his tongue. A breath of a laugh escapes your throat and you reach for the shelf, knowing he is expecting to see lubricant or something familiar. Instead you produce a small bottle of golden honey. He blinks at it, then a lopsided grin slowly spreads onto his face.
“I thought you might enjoy a treat,” you fight to keep your voice low and masculine. “I understand you have an affection for the flavor.”
Still perfectly in character, Saeyoung looks up at you in awe, eyes nearly sparkling. “How did you know, sir?”
“I’ve been watching you closely for a long time,” you brush back his long hair lovingly. “I feel as if I know you very intimately already, Mary. And yet, I am always surprised to discover new sides of you. Now, for instance… had I known of your eagerness, I would certainly have approached you sooner.”
“I only wish you had. We all have secrets,” he tries to blush, but you can see the obvious excitement in his eyes as he looks away, “but I’d like to show you all of mine, if you’ll let me.”
“I won’t stop until I’ve unlocked them all,” you promise, trying to sound dark, but feeling your voice waiver with emotion.
His eyes are locked on your fingers as you flip the cap and drizzle a small amount of honey onto the attachment.
Ducking underneath, instead of grazing on your new skin, Saeyoung slyly takes the opportunity to mouth at the drippings of honey that roll over the edges, smearing a finger along his chin to catch the excess and slurp it off greedily. You try to hide an eyeroll, but he giggles in response, finally surging up to kiss the coated surface, swirling his tongue around your length expertly. You bite your lip, impressed, and he sucks at the sides of the shaft, working his way around to the end and letting his eyes sink back behind their lids as he nurses at the tip. You wipe a smear of honey off his cheek and lick it from your own finger teasingly. He laughs abruptly, mouth still full of you, and you swear your soul ascends to heaven without you right then and there. Remembering his fingers between your legs, he hooks them cleverly and pulls gloatingly back and forth against your slick skin, and your shoulders shiver. Closing his eyes in concentration, he sinks farther onto your cock as his mouth cleans all traces of the sticky liquid from the attachment, and you murmur faint praise to him.
His lipstick is fading, leaving mostly a dark stain, and you move to reapply the honey, squeezing a generous amount this time. His penciled eyebrow flicks upward for a brief moment, almost in a challenge, and with a surge of boldness you pour the last drips from the bottle onto the very base of the shaft. It slowly runs down the sides and threatens to drip off.
Emboldened further by the flash in his eyes, you whisper, “It would be a shame if this made a mess on the floor, Mary.”
He shifts slightly for a better position and, without hesitation, anchors his mouth and lets the entire length disappear over his tongue. His painted lips close around the base and he exhales slowly through his nose, brows pinched slightly in concentration. The breath is knocked from you and you swear in admiration at the sight of him. You’re unable to tear your eyes away, leaning your chin into the back of your hand as you slump forward. You place your other hand gently on his jaw, fingers brushing his throat, to ensure you can feel his progress with your touch, focusing on keeping your hips as steady as possible to let him stay relaxed. He has obviously practiced this—possibly even with another person—but any hint of jealousy you might possess is swallowed by a rush of affection for his dedication to make you feel adored. He nearly makes it seem like he’s enjoying this more than you as he draws back, sighing, making a generous effort to let you hear each heavy sucking sound.
An overwhelmed moan escapes your own throat and your panting becomes quicker without you knowing. Below you, Saeyoung’s eyes light up with genuine happiness, as if it were the best compliment he could receive. You resolve not to hold back your voice any more.
“Mary,” you sigh, caressing his cheek and hair lightly, “you’re so beautiful… I want to hold onto you forever. To be one with you… always...”
His eyes are shining slightly as he leans his cheek into your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm—another glimpse of Saeyoung as he smiles lovingly up at you.
A shine of sweat has begun to gather on his brow, and you swipe lightly at your own, feeling its damp heat. Saeyoung draws back to peck gently at your length, catching his breath. Just as you regain yours, he tilts his chin upward to give you full view of his tongue, swirling it lavishly around the head. At the same time his fingers inside your underwear mirror the movement against you, adding pressure with his thumb and dragging from back to front. Your moan is nearly a sob and your entire body tightens, then releases in a gradual shudder at each pulse of your orgasm. His fingers continue curling and extending, matching your rhythm carefully as he watches you through longing eyes, waiting patiently for his turn with you.
You sigh with each heavy exhale, voicing your wordless appreciation, and try to regain strength in your quivering legs. Swallowing dryly, you gaze down at him, watching helplessly for his next move. He locks eyes with you, a pleased half-smile sliding up his cheek, and lets his gaze fall back onto your length.
A smear of honey still remains on the skin of your attachment, and Saeyoung moves forward around you again with aching slowness this time, humming in satisfaction until the bangs of his wig are ticking your navel. You grip his hair reflexively to steady yourself, almost dislodging the wig, and he groans happily. As he draws back, eyes lidded in relaxation, he lets a soft, expertly-timed choking sound accompany a sigh. You bite your lip so hard you’re certain it will bruise tomorrow.
He sits back, letting his jaw stay slack as he stares up at you, pausing to catch his breath. His knees are trembling slightly, and you can feel his fingers twitching as he continues resisting the urge to reach for himself. You realize how heated he has gotten from being so enthusiastic for you, cheeks flushed beyond his carefully-applied makeup. You lean forward to kneel at his level, feeling lightheaded yourself, and before you know it he is tugging you downward, grasping at the back of your neck and pulling you into a deep kiss.
The taste of honey fills your mouth so suddenly that it stings sourly, and you smile, leaning into the kiss and cradling his face appreciatively, trying to tell him how incredible he has been. He hums blissfully at the pressure of your mouth, as if slightly relieved.
“You were absolutely breathtaking, my darling,” you breathe between kisses. “I’ve never… been so enthralled… so in awe before…”
Your words pull a whine from his throat, and you feel his pulse pounding against your fingertips on his neck.
You kiss him gently, careful in case he feels fatigue, and when he has managed to catch his breath you slyly raise the hem of his spread skirt. A small, damp blotch dots the center of the silk pillow he is kneeling on, and he exhales with the curl of a guilty smile.
“Come with me, my love,” you smile sweetly, your voice low and protective, but honest. “I’ll take care of you.”
You help him to his feet, expecting to assist him with the high heels, but he stands so naturally on them, you’re certain he’s more confident in wearing them than you have ever been. Grinning, you guide him to sit on the edge of the bed and lovingly untie the silk ribbons that are keeping them on, lifting the shoes slowly from his feet, then dropping them lightly to the floor with a clatter. Now that he is seated on the bed, you find yourself appropriately taller than him, and you take this chance to kiss him from above. He melts into you again, savoring the unusual angle, and you find yourself gripping his long hair, causing his wig to slip slightly on his head.
Saeyoung makes a small noise of alarm and reaches to reposition it, but you stop him. “Can we lose this?” you whisper hoarsely in your own voice. “I think it might only get in the way from here on out.”
“Heh, fair enough,” he scrunches his nose and begins removing the hairpins and clips. He quickly tugs the wig free and peels off the cap, tugging his own bangs free. You help him eagerly, running your fingers through his real hair, adding pressure with your nails like you know he has always loved, returning the favor to let him know he’s still your Saeyoung. He shivers, almost catlike, and lets his head fall back. You close in on his bared neck and paint deep kisses onto him, tugging his sleeves down and reaching his shoulders, collarbone, and down to his chest.
“Master,” he gasps, making a dramatic effort to return to character, “please… I…” his voice is slightly raw from earlier, adding a desperate note.
“What is it, my darling? What do you need?”
Instead of answering, Saeyoung grips your hands suddenly and presses them to his thighs, sliding them upward along his stockings and beneath his skirt until your fingers curl around the curve of his ass. He stares intently into your eyes from beneath his heavy lashes, chest rising and falling, smudged red lips parted, and whispers in his own voice.
“You. All of you.”
Your stomach swoops and you feel dazed, lost in his blistering golden stare. Your hands squeeze his shallow curves in agreement, a drunken smile stealing across your face.
“I’m yours,” you murmur back, voice deep and honeyed. His eyes close and he presses his knees together, inhaling sharply.
“Lie back,” you instruct him gently. “Oh, but first…”
You drag your hands out from under his skirt and reach around behind him, searching for the zipper and peeling his dress open. His back arches at the cold tickle and he watches your hands working from over his shoulder. You pull his puffed sleeves down one at a time, watching his shoulders roll gracefully as he removes himself and exposes the exquisite black lace bra beneath.
“My dear, you have excellent taste,” you kiss his shoulder and lift the dress off above his head.
Saeyoung slides back, reclining on the many pillows decorating the bed, and subtly arranges himself, spread open, hand resting near his forehead, exposing himself with a faint flush at his cheeks. He knows exactly what he is doing, and so do you, but it doesn’t matter. He’s succeeding anyway.
You smile and run a finger down his stockings playfully. “Mary, when you look like this, I’d swear you were trying to seduce me.”
“Well, sir,” he grins breathlessly, “when you look at me like that, I’d swear it was working.”
“You’d be right,” you spread your fingertips and trace them upwards toward his parted legs where he is straining tightly against the dark lingerie. A thin trail of liquid drips just below the hem onto his thigh. “But darling, when you look like this, I have to wonder, who is really seducing whom?”
You swipe a thumb along the softest skin of his inner thigh, appreciating all the trouble he has taken to keep them smooth for tonight, and making a mental note to request that the trend make a reappearance in the future. You kiss and suck at the glossy skin, hoping to leave a faint bruise.
“It seems neither of us is without weakness,” Saeyoung laughs hastily, hips jerking lightly at your touch.
“If that is true, my dear... you are mine,” you sigh as musically as possibly, pressing a loving kiss to the taut lace and feeling his heat soaking through it. Your mouth lingers, and you can’t help pulling your tongue along the fabric, letting your teeth scrape its threads before you draw back, hearing his quick breath in response.
Grasping the lubricant, you pour it thickly onto your hand and cup the attachment of your strap-on, using two hands to cover it thickly and stroke yourself languidly. Saeyoung is watching intently. You expect to see nervousness in his eyes, but instead he is enraptured, breathing heavily as he watches with obvious longing. He shifts his legs and readjusts himself on the pillows, a hint of jealousy crossing his features.
“You’re enjoying this?” you ask in light amusement. “Would you like to join me?”
He smiles, bangs askew and looking slightly disheveled, but still cocky. “Sir,” he shakes his head lightly. “I’ve told you before, but if I may remind you… I’ve been looking forward to this for quite some time. Possibly before you even considered it.” Saeyoung’s grin is overriding Mary’s, and you know he’s being sincere.
You shake your head and shift to sit more upright. “Before I give you myself, would you care to join me in preparing? I want you to feel as relaxed and comfortable as possible beneath me.”
“You’re not going to help, sir?” he asks with slight surprise, blinking delicately.
In response you reach for his right hand and kiss it delicately, then close your mouth around his first two fingers, sucking teasingly and swirling your tongue in an echo of his earlier feats with his own. A muscle in his abdomen twitches, and his eyelids grow heavier, making him look more intoxicated by the minute. You slide your tongue between the two fingers before returning the hand to his side and guiding it suggestively toward the back of his own lace panties.
“I am sure you know yourself best,” you assure him, “and besides… I’ll be preparing as well.” You continue stroking yourself leisurely, and hold out the bottle of lubricant until he offers an open palm, and you cover it generously. He coats a few fingers and bends both his knees, positioning himself to reach beneath the looped hem of his underwear, and presses them inside.
You focus your gaze on your own length, trying to take the pressure off of his own preparation, when you are struck by an idea. You place a sticky finger to your lips in a hush and slide off the bed, stepping across the hardwood to snatch up the pillow Saeyoung had been kneeling on at your feet. It still bears a few fading stains on the top. Sidling yourself onto the bed again, you prop the same pillow between your legs and settle your weight onto it, watching for his expression. As he stretches himself distractedly from behind, you resume your obscenely slow stroking on the extension, this time while simultaneously rolling your pelvis over the pillow, letting every sensation show on your face, and in the crease of your frown. Grinding your weight downward, you moan in a swell of pleasure, watching his expression from above.
His face is a delicious blend of jealousy, anticipation, and awe, as if he is about to protest, while simultaneously desperate to stop himself from interfering with your progress. For a moment he is mesmerized, and you bow your neck down to kiss just below his navel, brushing your lips and nose along the lace of his underwear. He jolts back to the present and continues working his fingers, breath becoming more uneven and desperate.
You pause your stroking for a moment to drag your own hands across your abdomen, up along your bound chest to grasp at your neck and the back of your head, as if overwhelmed by your own efforts. Saeyoung’s breath hisses enviously and reaches his free hand out to tug you down by the neck and kiss you. His mouth has almost run dry with anticipation, but you kiss him fiercely in response, showing him your own desperation. He groans, pulls away for a brief laugh, then returns to kissing your mouth, jaw, and throat.
“I’m ready,” he whispers seductively, biting lightly at your ear to punctuate his invitation.
“Then, darling,” you whisper back, “turn around.”
He bites his lip, unconsciously, it seems, and turns his back to you, and you admire the snug pull of the lace of his thong-style underwear.
“God,” you breathe, “I pray this isn’t the last time I get to see you in these, my love.”
His abdomen flutters beneath your fingertips as he laughs. “Hmm… I think you’ll find that I wear this sort of thing quite often… if you’re bold enough to seek them out for yourself from now on.”
“It’s heartbreaking, really, to remove these,” you pout, pressing your thumb into the lace and dragging it along the two gentle slopes in the small of his back. The threaded texture is intensely tactile, and he squirms slightly beneath your pressure. “I have your word to see you in them again, my love?”
“Of course,” he gasps, clutching the sheets in frustration as he waits for you to close in on him. “Often.”
“Consider it a promise, darling,” you press kisses onto the ridges of his spine as you tug at the laced hem, dragging them off with painful slowness and relishing the sight of his thighs denting beneath the taut line. He tucks in his knees to help you remove them swiftly. You notice his gaze following your fingers and you can’t resist bunching the garment in your fist and raising it to your lips, breathing its lingering scent and kissing it sensually.
His lips part in surprise and he swears breathlessly, and it is your turn to smirk triumphantly.
His head falls forward again and he arches his neck, sloping his shoulders and letting one of the bra straps slip delicately down his shoulder. You replace it with a kiss and your hands travel all over his chest, feeling him shiver as your fingertips glide over his ribcage, stomach, and hip bones. One hand anchored to his hips, you allow the other to stray and help guide your length to his entrance.
“May I?” your voice rumbles.
“Yes,” he sighs, turning his chin to watch eagerly from the corner of his eye. “God, yes…”
Kissing his shoulder and neck, you whisper vague encouragement as you push tentatively in, wishing you could feel his reaction. You keep your hand close as a guide.
Saeyoung gasps in the most exquisite way, sounding like he had just stepped into an extremely hot bath and was waiting to slowly lower himself in and relax into the overwhelming sensation. You caress the inside of his thigh, sneaking your free hand beneath his bra and cupping his flat chest.
“Keep talking, love, guide me,” you whisper from behind his ear, hoping to make him as relaxed as possible.
Saeyoung laughs stutteringly, and, to your surprise, reaches his hands around to grab your hips and push you deeper into him, moaning gratefully as he does so.
“Oh god,” you whisper, gripping his chest too tightly.
“No,” you can hear the smile on his lips, “but I am a devout follower, I’m glad you noticed.”
He gives you permission to move, nodding encouragingly, and you do, suddenly having to learn to move a new set of muscles. It’s a strange sensation, and it takes some adjustments to get used the correct motion of your hips to be the one thrusting into him. But he is patient, and more than enthusiastic, and he keeps a hand on your hip to help guide you, careful to let you do most of the movement. You continue whispering praise into his back, laying kisses between his freckles and occasionally tugging at his bra strap with your teeth. His muscles jump and stutter beneath your fingertips, so different than every other time you’ve been with him, and his breathing responds to your every movement inside him. It’s enthralling, and you feel a rush at how overwhelmed his senses are by your touch. The feeling of control is exhilarating, but your affection for him spins your excitement into a desire to make him feel as good as possible. Your hands run gently all over him, enjoying the sensation of your palms pressed to his flat chest beneath the bra, and smoothing the tension in his abdomen to soothe him into relaxing onto you. He sighs gratefully, ending on the note of a whine as he arches his back, and you kiss his skin reassuringly, murmuring words you won’t remember into the nape of his neck.
Once you have a rhythm established, you reach mercifully between his legs and close your hand around his cock, stroking tightly. He’s gone a bit soft at the extreme sensation of you filling him, and you help him regain momentum again. You hear his panting breath tighten through a tentative smile.
Despite his excitement, he grits his teeth, inhaling sharply at times and gripping you harshly in moments of uncertainty. Whatever his personal experience, this is a first for the two of you, and you are flying more blind than you would like. You cradle him reassuringly and kiss the back of his neck.
“Just a moment, my love,” you halt your slow movement and grip his hips, curling your thumbs over the ridge of the angled bone. “Can I see you?”
His chest is heaving slightly, and he nods, reaching a hand back to caress your face. You pull out carefully, letting him guide himself, and help him roll onto his back.
He still looks stunning, clearly over-stimulated and elated, as if he has been wound like a tight coil and is begging for release. When you hover over him, however, he pulls you firmly down for a sincere kiss, cupping your neck affectionately.
“I love you,” he gasps, abandoning his persona completely. You press your forehead to his, echoing his words, and he smiles with relief. Seeing him falling apart beneath you, glassy eyes memorizing your face in near worship, you are overcome with the urge to gather him tightly into yourself, to press the warmth of your skin to his and never let go. You leave quick, gentle kisses over his abdomen and chest, letting them dissolve between puffs of hot breath, and his eyebrows pull together in affection as he watches you fondly. Wisps of your carefully pinned-back hair are escaping, some clinging to the sweat of your neck, and Saeyoung extends his fingers and tucks a dark strand lovingly behind your ear, smoothing it and brushing his fingertips along the underside of your jaw. You close your eyes and lean into the sweetness of his touch, covering his hand with your own and clasping it to your cheek. In the stillness your lips meet again, time holding its breath, and he is warm light against your skin. His kisses echo his three words insistently again and again in a silent promise.
His curled fingers search your chest, knuckles brushing the stretch of your binder and tickling your soft stomach, and eventually they press into the lace of the underwear beneath your harness. He pulls at the elastic, then cups a hand underneath the extension of your strap-on, tugging it reassuringly and drawing up one bent knee, gazing steadily into your face to urge you to continue. You nod, supporting his lower half, dragging pale lines over his skin with the pressure of your fingertips, and pull yourself close to his entrance.
“I’ve got you,” you whisper to him, repositioning yourself inside of him and resuming your slow motions. He arches, tossing back his head and dragging his palms down your back, desperately pulling you closer. His legs somehow end up crossed behind the small of your back, and you support the weight of one of his thighs, kissing it lovingly.
“Saeyoung,” you sigh, losing yourself and reaching between his legs to stroke him firmly again, trying to match the rhythm of your hips. He moans your name reverently in reply, and it takes a few tries, but you soon manage to sync your motions, and his breathing follows, clouding the air between you.
Your hands can’t get enough of him, you try to map them out over all of his skin, wishing you could hold all of him at once. The look on his face isn’t what you expected—not strain or nervousness or excitement—it’s much more familiar than that. His eyelids flutter closed every few moments, mouth twitching slightly as the movement changes, but the expression on his face is simple—adoration. As the sweat shines on his neck and his breathing becomes more rapid, he blinks up at you like he hopes he never has to look away. Reaching out to lift his head toward you, you kiss him gently once more, careful not to knock teeth from the rocking motion between you. He smiles, murmuring for you to keep going, and you adjust your angle to aim for his sweet spot, switching hands to finish stroking him to completion. He cries out, but a smile breaks over his lips, and he squeezes his eyes shut, sighing your name again and urging you on.
His chest stutters erratically and his knees hitch tightly around you as he rolls his hips and arches gracefully, and you’re mesmerized by his motions. Heat gathers inside you again at the sight of his long-awaited release, his expression nearly overwhelmed by you. Keeping a hand close to his entrance to gauge his tension, you watch him carefully, moving through his gasping climax until he seems spent. It takes all your concentration to make sure he comes down gently, and he finally grins weakly up at you, cheeks and nose glowing red. He grips your shoulders, still clinging to you after such a long buildup, and you breathe kisses into the curls of his damp hair until his fingers release their hold and he sinks bonelessly into the bedding.
Pulling out carefully, you remove the strap-on and set it aside, legs shaking and abdomen muscles feeling overused. You reach weakly to finish yourself off, but Saeyoung murmurs your name, drawing you close and kissing you softly, sliding his hand between your legs to help you. His fingers tremble with fatigue, but they read you expertly, knowing just where to stroke and swirl until you push back into them and moan softly with relief. You come in a rush, shivering in his arms and panting happily into the crook of his neck, and you both collapse into each other. Listening to the disparate rhythms of your breathing fading into gentle sighs, even occasional small giggles, you watch the shadows on the ceiling shimmer in dully-colored tricks of your exhausted vision.
The heat starts to evaporate quickly from both of you, sweat chilling your bodies, and you both slip under the blankets, tugging them halfway over you. You fuss over removing Saeyoung’s bra and finally peel off your own binder so you can both sprawl more comfortably. His hand settles comfortably on your ass like it always does, as if he believes there is no other possible place it could belong, and he tugs you close, ignoring the stickiness that you will have to wash off later. He sighs with exaggerated contentment, pressing an overly-damp kiss to your temple.
“Wow,” he laughs weakly, still slightly breathless. “We should do this more often.”
“Yes,” you nod as vigorously as you can, “oh my word, please.”
“Okay. I might need a few more minutes, though.”
You laugh through a spit-take and shove him lightly. “Later, I mean,” you shake your head.
“Oh. So like… tomorrow?” he grins, watching you slyly.
Your shoulders shake with laughter. “Hell, yes. Oh, and… it doesn’t have to be with Mary next time…”
He bites his lip to hold back a broad smile. “I couldn’t keep her up for long with you at the helm, anyway.” He closes his eyes and smiles, rubbing at his smudged makeup. “Besides, the real me is too selfish to let her have all the fun.”
You nuzzle sweetly into his neck with familiarly excessive affection. “Good thing I like you more than her.”
“Really?” Saeyoung quirks an eyebrow. “Because she’s pretty hot…”
“Oh no,” you mumble, “you can keep the dress. It’s just that I love you in dresses, it doesn’t have to be Mary.”
He chuckles thoughtfully, running circles with a thumb along the back of your hand.
“Say,” you slur almost drunkenly with sleepiness, “where did you learn to use your tongue like that?”
“Hmmm,” he pressed a finger to his chin thoughtfully. “Secret agents have to acquire a multitude of skills over the years, you know…”
You drag a thumb over his lips, staring intently in concentration. “Can you show me again?” you ask in your lowest voice, nearing a whisper. “So I can feel it this time…”
Half of his smile tugs upward, drawing back like one side of a curtain, and his eyes droop closed. “I’ve been saving it especially for you, my darling,” he whispers, hands sneaking around you again, and he kisses your remaining breath away.