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minho has this way of making you behave, more so than any partner you’ve ever had. your naturally bratty attitude fizzles out and dissolves as soon as he put his hands on you, your waist, your neck, your back, anywhere. you’re pliant and cooperative in his bed the way you’re argumentative and combative anywhere else. you thrive off of his praises and collect them to tuck away into a little pocket of your brain only he can access.
which explains how you’ve found yourself in your current predicament, spread out on your bed with his face between your legs. you’ve been leaking since he first instructed you to strip, leaving only a short chain around your neck with his initial on it, almost short enough to be a choker, or a collar.
your arms are crossed above your head, triceps shaking with the effort to keep them there as he instructed. good girl, he had said once you got into position, leaving goosebumps all over your body as you waited for him to touch you. you’re letting out whimpers now as he works, one of his hands holding your thigh, fingers digging into your skin in a way you hope will leave bruises.
there’s a song playing but you couldn’t tell what it was. he’s tapping out what can only be described as an unholy rhrythm into your clit with his fingers to the beat of the song as his tongue dives in and out of you, teasing you and keeping you right on the edge of pleasure. he’s singing along the best he can with his tongue occupied, his hums reverberating throughout your entire body sending jolts of pleasure through your bloodstream. it’s all part of the game, you’re to wait until the song is over to cum. but was the song over? is this the same song, or did another one play? you can’t tell.
“min-“ you breathe out, gasping when he switches to rubbing his fingers in slow circles. “please-“
he speeds up his fingers instead of answering you, and your moans become increasingly breathy and high. you can’t finish even your thoughts, let alone a sentence. you squeeze your eyes shut, overwhelmed, but he taps at your thigh twice - eyes on me, he doesn’t have to say. you’re too well trained for him to have to use words anymore.
you pry your eyes open and what a sight he makes, head bobbing in his effort, hair already a bit sweaty and curling at the edges. you meet his eyes and they’re dark and hungry, staring at you like you’re his prey.
the coils get impossibly tight in your lower belly, burning with pleasure, and you can’t hold back anymore. you grind your hips into face as the pleasure overwhelms you, your orgasm hitting just as the final beat of the song plays. he moves to lap at your clit as you ride through your aftershocks, your body spasming as it became too much. his hands hold your hips down as he eats you out into overstimulation, and you want to scream from how good it hurts. he finally let up, turning to press a soft, wet kiss to your inner thigh before sitting back, lips red and bruised. you’re left slumped into the mattress, sweating and panting and arms sore, so drowsy that you felt like you could sleep right there.
“oh, kitten,” he says, tutting with a condescendingly sad look on his face when he sees your eyes droop. the pet name send another jolt through your sore pussy, and you choke back a moan. “you didn’t think you were done just because you came, were you? you almost didn’t last until the end of the song. i have so much more planned for you.”
he climbs over you, gracefully cat-like and eyes feral, and he shoves his fingers into your mouth with one hand while he strokes your side gently with the other, a perfect balance only he knows how to achieve for you. you can feel how hard he is where his hips align with yours, but he makes no move to relieve himself - this night is about you. your torture, your pleasure, your pain, your ecstasy.
you choke on his fingers when they enter deep, but suckle on them when he wiggles them out a bit, moaning when you taste yourself on them. his shirt rubs against your sensitive nipples, making you whimper and drool around his fingers. you’re reminded of the contrast between the two of you, you completely exposed and spread and him fully clothed and looking more composed than he had the right to be. his free hand creeps down your stomach to your pussy, making you shiver in fear, or anticipation, you can hardly tell anymore.
“my playlist has five songs left. you think you can cum five more times for me?”