It all started with the big bang that was “Yo, this ad says the apartment has a terrace!” and you ended up being roommates with Lee Minho.
Chill guy, flexible, not a neat freak nor a slob, and mostly kept to himself. It was easy to live with him. The aforementioned terrace qualified you as the default party hosts, which happened quite frequently, and it was during those buzzed nights that you got to learn he had a fun alter ego that only came out to play when his inhibitions were low.
It was during those nights your flirting would get to dangerous thresholds since you both had an alibi to hide behind.
We were drunk.
You were teasing each other a lot, verbally or otherwise—you groping his ass in front of everyone, Minho catcalling when you walked into the room, dancing a bit more than suggestively just to be able to indecently touch each other, coming very very close to kissing, but always stopping yourselves right at that point.
That was the line.
Even your friends were joking that you should date since it was painfully obvious that you wanted each other. You already lived together and you were needlessly familiar with one another, but neither of you was willing to take that leap of faith for fear of the inevitable awkwardness to follow.
Nope, we’re perfectly fine like this.
Meanwhile, what you were doing behind his back was just…
There was this weird possessiveness you had over him. It wasn’t likely that you were going to end up together, but you still didn’t like the idea of Minho being involved with someone else. Some days, your Minho craving would be so bad that you picked up the habit of stealing his print tees right after he changed. You were secretly masturbating with the piece of fabric right under your nose, still warm with his body temperature, and after cumming very hard to all the outrageous fantasies you had of him, you would take a shower, then hug his t-shirt to sleep. It smelled just like him.
You wouldn’t mind falling asleep hugging the actual source of that cozy scent actually, but…
Well…
You could be as possessive as you wanted. You could be the reigning queen of possessiveness, but it still wasn’t going to prevent Lee Minho from being able to collect bitches left and right looking like the guy he was. He was inevitably going to feel attracted to someone, make a move on them, and if the person was sane enough, they were going to agree to get railed by him. On a Saturday night, your impending doom indeed came into being.
Minho came home drunk as hell with a girl.
At first, you thought your ears were playing a trick on you, but it was indeed real. He was having sex, and the wall you shared was so thin that they might as well have been fucking in your own room.
Your initial reaction was quite reminiscent of acid reflux. A painful burn in the pit of your stomach as if you were being gutted alive, but then it mutated into something else. Something sick. Something you were ashamed of.
You hated how aroused you were listening to him fuck this bitch, but there you were, concerningly wet. Your hand moved on its own and started caressing your pussy, and it wasn’t long before you started fingering yourself. In your imagination, Minho was eating your pussy. He was calling you all those horrendous names, asking to fuck your ass, moaning to how good you felt, and shooting his load inside you.
You learned to time yourself according to his release because the post-nut clarity usually manifested itself in you as an inextricable knot in your throat if he still didn’t finish by the time you came, and you would have to spend an extra long time in the shower until it stopped.
It was a quite natural thing to do. He was a human being with needs to be satisfied, and you couldn’t expect him to bust a nut in his own room forever.
But maybe you could.
You weren’t about to trap someone from scratch because who the fuck had the energy for that, and the closest thing you had at your disposal to get back at Minho was your old fuck buddy. Someone familiar who was down to fuck albeit not exactly doing a world-class job of satisfying you. Then again you were just so petty over Minho’s conquests that you saw no problem in initiating a pissing contest.
Meanwhile, what Minho was doing behind your back the entire time was just…
He was so alert to your presence that the guy actually knew the second you started releasing pheromones. He was intimately familiar with your masturbation patterns—you always took a shower afterwards, which was how he also knew about your atrocious secret. He would wait to see the bathroom lights being turned on in the hallway, and once he heard the water running in the shower, even when there was someone in his bed, he would close his door behind him and sneak into your room just to be able to taste you through the wet trail you left on your sheets. If your underwear wasn’t discarded right next to your bed, it was always on top of your laundry basket, freshly stained with your essence and ready to be pocketed by him.
It wasn’t because he was in dire need of cleaning himself that he took showers right after you. He knew what you were doing with that shower nozzle courtesy of you being unable to control the volume of your moans sometimes. He just wanted to bask in the awareness that you just had an orgasm here. Maybe to him once again.
He was hoping you came to him.
If only you knew about the long sessions where Minho edged himself licking on the traces of your cream on your underwear. Sometimes he would even wrap the fabric around his cock and pretend he was fucking you, panties to the side, but he would always always cum on it. He wished you would wear it like this. He wished you would just snap, barge into his room and fuck him in any way you’d like. He wasn’t going to demand anything in return; he just needed you to use him for your own pleasure like he was your personal toy, but you weren’t doing it, and he couldn’t initiate it, and he was getting sick of fucking random strangers.
Then one night the inevitable happened. You came home with a guy.
When he realized you were having sex next door, his initial reaction was quite reminiscent of his ribcage getting ripped apart. Sudden rage spreading throughout his body like shooting pains as if he was having homicidal thoughts, but then it transformed into something else. Something twisted. Something he would never admit out loud.
He never realized how much he despised the idea of you being involved with someone else.
He stroked himself listening to your moans, still quiet but much more audible than your alleged secrecy attempts, imagining it was him. In his imagination, Minho was decimating you. Minho was calling you all those horrendous names, asking to fuck your mouth, moaning to how tight your pussy was, and shooting his load inside you.
He hated that there was another guy with you in that room, but a tiny piece of detail he picked up on provided the most microscopic amount of satisfaction to him, barely preventing him from barging into your room and throwing an uppercut on this motherfucker’s face.
But you wouldn’t stop seeing him. Why were you still seeing him?
Minho was just so petty over your periodical visits that he saw no problem in partaking in your pissing contest.
He brought a girl. You brought a guy. The vicious cycle turned so frequent that one day the inevitable happened.
Your visits clashed.
And everything went haywire.
No matter how much he wanted to spite the shit out of you, all Minho could see behind his closed eyes was you. No matter how much you loathed the fact that he was fucking someone else, all you could feel inside you was Minho. Listening to him grunt made you moan louder. Listening to you moan louder made him grunt more. The closer he got to his own release, the more you started clenching, so hard and frequently that the man hovering over your body couldn’t endure it much longer.
That was the first and last time you let him finish inside you.
You and Minho both showed the basic courtesy to let the people who didn’t live under that roof collect themselves, and then they left, awkwardly running into each other on the way out judging by the uncomfortable giggles.
You peeled yourself from your bed and wrapped a towel around you to take your much needed shower, almost flatlining when you opened your door.
“You let him cum inside, didn’t you?”
“Jesus fucki— You scared the shit out of me!”
“Answer the question,” Minho leaned against your doorframe, with only his boxers on and arms crossed over his chest.
“Yes, I did,” you arrogantly professed, “and if you don’t let me go, it’s gonna drip all the way down to my ankles.”
“Then let it drip.”
You loudly scoffed and started marching towards the bathroom just to get blocked by Minho on your way in.
“I’m sick of listening to you fuck him,” he spat through his teeth, “You know goddamn well who you really want is me.”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m calling someone else over when you’re right next door,” you pushed his arm down and walked into the bathroom.
“Yes, you do because you want to spite me.”
“You’re fucking delusional.”
“Yes, I am,” he followed after you, “I’m so fucking delusional, I even think it fucking bothers you when I bring a girl over.”
His words caught you so off guard that you couldn’t produce a comeback as quickly as you wished, which confirmed a lot of things in Minho’s mind.
“No, it doesn’t,” you eventually uttered devoid of all persuasion.
“Keep telling yourself that but it won’t stop being true,” he pressed, then broke into a derisive grin, “I gotta give it to you, though. You do have the fake orgasm noises down.”
“And you would know because your girl frequently makes those?” you sneered, getting dangerously close to crossing your civilized anger threshold, “I wasn’t faking shit.”
“She’s not my girl, and you're telling me he just ascended you without even eating your pussy?”
“What the fuck does that have to do with anything?!”
“We’ve been living together for so long and you think I wouldn’t notice? All the porn you ever watch is cunnilingus footage!”
You and Minho had partaken in pretty violent diss battles before, but never once did you feel embarrassed like this as if you were caught red-handed indulging in disgraceful and immoral conduct.
“A man should be ashamed of himself if he’s not eating pussy for his own pleasure, just FYI,” he took advantage of your pause and came a little closer to you, “The fuck are you doing with this lowlife when I’m right under your nose?”
“The same thing you’re doing with your personal whore, I guess,” you deadpanned while taking a step backwards, but you ran out of places to hide, literally and figuratively.
Minho trapped you against the glass door of the walk-in shower and pressed both hands on either side of you.
“Say it,” he demanded.
“Say what?”
“Say you want me to eat your pussy.”
“WHAT?”
“Do it.”
“You’re insane, Minho.”
“Own up to it for fucking once!” he raised his voice a tinge, running completely out of patience.
“What is there to own up to?!”
“You want me.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You imagine me when you’re fucking this guy.”
“No, I don’t!”
“Are you too fucking blind to realize I’m pretending that I’m fucking you when I fuck these girls?!”
Your ears started ringing when Minho slammed his hands on the door behind you. Was he… being serious right now?
“I’m sorry for what I’m about to do,” Minho closed his eyes and took a deep breath, “I can move out if you want.”
“What are you t—?”
You had dreamed about his lips on yours for so long that it didn’t feel real for the first few seconds. It was like a dream, like being unable to run, being unable to scream, like landing punches with no impact.
“Kiss me,” Minho pulled you back to reality by placing his hands on your shoulders and sliding them up your neck until he reached your cheeks, “Stop hating me, just kiss me. Please.”
Oh, how you longed for hearing his voice rendered in this exact key. Desperate. Pleading. He kissed you so much deeper the second time around, and there was no room for doubt that it was real. His tongue was swirling around yours. His fingers reached behind your ears. There was excess wetness in your mouth. On your folds.
In your eyes, for some reason.
“Risk it all with me,” he unwrapped the towel covering your body with one flick of his fingers and walked you into the shower, “I want you like crazy.”
The clash of your lips was much more violent this time, accompanied by heavy breathing and tugs of flesh, and you couldn’t stand the fact that there was anything standing between you any longer. You hooked your fingers around his waistband and got rid of his boxers as he turned on the shower and pulled you under the cold water slowly turning warm.
Much like how you felt about him. Like how he felt about you. After all this time.
“Touch me,” you pressed his hands on your breasts.
Touching you was not enough. Kissing you was not enough. Minho had to feel you. He had to experience you afresh, exploring what every inch of your skin felt like under his touch, on his tongue, on every single one of his senses. When his hand reached between your legs to caress you, he felt something familiar oozing out of you, and the thought alone was making him dizzy.
Your creampied cunt.
He wanted to dump his cum inside you, too. For fuck’s sake, he had down-bad seniority over everyone else. He had earned this.
“It’s dripping,” he uttered matter-of-factly, but he was actually asking you a question.
He was asking for permission.
You took a step back and leaned against the wall, then opened your legs wider for him.
“Replace it.”
He grabbed the shower nozzle and pressed it against your entrance while you pulled his body close to invite him in. The pressure and the temperature of the water was just right, very pleasant on your skin while washing everything away, and Minho’s lips were even better, an actual pillow fort providing all the comfort in the world to you. You palmed his girth as he fondled your breasts, making sure he was ready to char himself on your soul soon enough.
He placed the nozzle above your heads again and aligned himself with you, forcing every drop of his willpower to not blow on the spot. That first push was everything he ever wanted and more. Tight, warm, perfect for him to pave a new way inside you.
“Hold on to me.”
You had imagined Minho in much more pornographic scenarios in your head before, and compared to the monstrosity that was your fantasies, this felt so intimate. Warm water trickling down your bodies like make-believe rain, his hands on your hips keeping you in place, his lips hugging yours, his eyes looking right into yours while going deeper, deeper, and deeper inside you. Listening to you moan from this up close was nothing short of heaven, and Minho was one faint breeze away from losing his whole entire mind over finally being able to fuck you.
No words were necessary. Just you. Just him. The sounds of mutual pleasure were echoing in your own bathroom, under the same roof you were living together, and you were making each other feel so unbelievably good that it was up for debate whether it was a skill thing, or something else.
“Can I cum?” he panted into your lips, “Please? Please?”
When you frantically nodded at his request, Minho picked up his pace, burying his face in the crook of your neck, and you threw your head back with your eyes closed. The closer he got to his release, the more you felt like his pleasure was sneakily seeping into your own body. When he finally let go and painted your walls through and through, moans spilling from his lips in a much different key than you were used to, both of you finally got to satisfy the morbid curiosity about what this feeling was like.
Sharing a single body with the person you didn’t even know you were in love with.
The fog of the shower embracing you both, Minho attached himself to your lips again, then kneeled in front of you, leaving a trail of kisses as he descended down your body. You looked down at him with endlessly expectant eyes as he spread your labia apart and licked his lips at the extremely delectable sight.
“Feed me,” he pleaded while hugging your thighs, and after what seemed like forever, he wrapped his lips around your clit.
You almost came to that first touch.
Nothing ever felt better than having Minho between your legs, slurping on your folds unabashedly loud as if to tell you This is what it’s supposed to feel like. Watching him eat his own cum out of you felt like sheer delirium, pushing you several steps closer to losing your mind with each lick. Each kiss. Each moan.
You had the strongest orgasm of your life in his mouth.
The warm water on your skin felt like it was washing away something that had been weighing you down forever, making you feel loads lighter. Minho stood up on his feet again and kissed you. He kissed you for a long time. He kissed you like he was asking you a silent question, and you responded eagerly.
“Your cum tastes perfect when you cum to me, you know,” Minho kissed your shoulder after getting out the shower.
“How would you know what my cum normally tastes like?” you looked at him in the mirror.
“You seriously never noticed the dried white stains on your underwear?” he cocked a brow, “I’ve been going at it like crazy every time you were in the shower.”
“WHAT?”
“Clueless on multiple fronts, I see,” he burst out laughing, then hugged your waist tighter, “Come to the kitchen with me. I’ll show you some other stuff I do with cream.”
Exxxtraoddinary? Appreciate with a pudding.
© 2024 Feelfolio.
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