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minhosimthings · 25 days ago

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Concerto in D Major || LHS, 18+

Synopsis: Touch starved. That was one way to describe the fact that you and your husband hadn't uttered more than two words to each other for the past few months. So when your client gives you the opportunity to go shopping for lingerie, who are you to back out from a visit to Heeseung's studio?

Pairings: music producer husband!Heeseung × interior designer wife!fem!reader, mention of Giselle from Aespa

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, 18+, P in v, unprotected sex (zont zo it), oral (male receiving), fingering, overstimulation, sex on a piano (no I am not kidding), lingerie, swearing, mention of food and alcohol

Author's note: This is an extremely late birthday present to my beloved arson murder kitten child Kayz @jaeyunluvr and I mean EXTREMELY late look I got busy procrastinating ok. Also don't question the piano part because i thought of this somewhere around 4 in the morning WHILST drowning in bio experiments so....... Anywho Happy birthday to my baby once again!!

Word count: 8k (forgive me)

The smooth, crimson lining of your new, expensive bra lay ripped on one side of the studio. The lights were dim, and the space was quiet.

Until the dissonantly melodic sound of multiple keys of a piano being pressed down simultaneously was heard, like some sort of unorganized symphony; it made your ears bleed.

But to your virtuoso husband, Heeseung, nothing had ever sounded more melodic, than the sound of your pretty little moans mixing with the incorrigible notes of his piano.

But however did you even end up in this scenario?

Earlier that day

Your hands absentmindedly traced the empty space beside you on the bed. Judging from the full glass of water that lay on his bed-side table, your husband had clearly forgotten to hydrate himself before going to work—something that you had always scolded him for.

Rolling over to lay on his pillow, you took in his scent—it lingered somewhere between aged wine and musk. Sunlight crept into the room slowly through the giant French windows, as you scrolled on your phone, checking your emails and a dozen texts from your friends, asking to hang out.

But you had to politely decline, yet again. Being an interior designer, who—in your proud opinion—was a very important person for the rich and flamboyant peacocks you worked for, you barely had enough time to sit down. Alright, maybe that was a bit hyperbolic, but it was partly true. You couldn't afford to waste more than an hour or so on extravagant outings.

The empty space beside you still smelled like him though and you lay there wondering just how long it had been since you and Heeseung even had a nice, long conversation together.

Everyday was the same routine for you two. Heeseung would wake up first and rush off to his studio, and you'd laze through the day slower; eating breakfast seemed to take up half your time some days. And then it was work and work and work. As a child, the only reason you wanted to become rich was so that you could become prosaic and lay in bed all day.

But now, as a money-plenty interior designer, with a successful career and an equally successful husband—you wondered when exactly it would be that you got to become a lazy cat basking in the golden sun. Granted, your econ teacher did teach you that richness meant constant maintenance. But she also believed that lizard people secretly ruled the world, so you didn't know how much of everything she said was true.

It took you fifteen minutes to get up and finish your business in the bathroom; though you had slept for a healthy eight hours, your brain cells were fighting to not fall asleep in the shower—the warm drops of water cascading down your shoulders and relaxing your muscles weren’t really helping either. You made a silent oath to start taking cold showers in the morning.

Slipping on the first things visible to you in your closet—a pair of baggy jeans, a button up, and the usual nude lipstick—you stared in the vanity for a few minutes before debating on whether to eat or not to eat. In these few minutes of deep fueled thinking, your eyes wavered over your bedside table and you caught sight of the photo frame standing tall on it.

It was a picture a la photoshoot of your wedding day. You thought you looked quite stunning, in a wedding dress that now lay sleeping in your attic. You couldn't find any words to describe Heeseung though. No synonyms of the word ‘beautiful’ was enough to describe how absolutely ravishing he looked. You wanted to pull that stupidly attractive collar of his towards you and kiss him the way the French did. You sighed to yourself as a particularly PG-13 memory of your wedding night popped into your mind.

Pink lips on your neck, wet kisses down your chest, a hand on your thigh, those gorgeous eyes, Heeseung…

Shaking your head, you kept frowning to yourself as you made your way down to the kitchen. You had a meeting scheduled for the afternoon and you realised that you needed some food in your system to get through it. A smoothie would probably be the healthy option, you decided, opening up your fridge to scour whatever frozen fruit you had left.

An hour or so was spent organising all the binders you wanted to show your client, after you had consumed your smoothie. You absentmindedly flicked through most of them; half of your brain cells were occupied doing something else.

An image of Heeseung, all comfy between your thighs came into your mind and you shook your head.

Slamming the cover of the binder you were holding down, you hoisted yourself off of the chair and stretched your stiff limbs. Rich men and women spent a lot of time thinking about what their house would look like, and so, you were going to be spending much of your afternoon sitting your ass down on some or the other expensive chaise lounge.

You heard the tinkling of your windchime and you glanced outside. The sky was dotted with light grey clouds and you sighed as you checked your phone to see that it would certainly rain tonight. Heeseung hadn’t even taken an umbrella—which wouldn't have really mattered if he drove home, but you knew he often liked to walk. It—quote unquote—‘gave him inspiration’.

Picking your umbrella up, you moved rather swiftly out to your car, hoping to get today’s meeting done breezily so that you could go see a glimpse of your husband at his studio. Perhaps luck would want to favour you today; you'd get to see your husband, and you had heard that your new client was a straight, get-to-the-point sort of woman. The faster you decide on the style of her windows, the better.

Who'd ever have known that she would feed you an even better idea?

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“Would you like any adjustments to this area?” You ran your finger across the giant square drawn on the white paper, “I do think you’ll get a lot of sunlight in if we change the windows.”

“You know, ever since we’ve sat down—” The woman facing you spoke in a soothing voice, “—all we’ve talked about is the placement of the rooms.” She placed her glass of wine down on the little table and placed her hands under her chin, “How about we talk colours?”

You chuckled and nodded, taking a sip from your own glass. Normally, on such afternoon meetings outside in a little gazebo in a garden, you would be having coffee or any other such conventional drink. But you should have known that Giselle did not prefer conventions, as soon as she announced that her bedroom would face the kitchen. It was really hard for you to even start fathoming as to how you’d ever work that out. But you weren't one to give up.

And so you sat under the old stone gazebo of Giselle’s summer house, sipping wine from Bordeaux and showing her each and every blueprint your drunken brain had come up with at two in the morning. It was honestly a sort of redamancy—drawing all those blueprints; with every new stroke it seemed as if the house was saying to you, ‘Well done, you’ve made me beautiful.’

That’s what Heeseung used to say. As burnt out college students with two very different (yet similar in your own peculiar way), you two often found your own ways of comforting one another through dark times. One of the things Heeseung always told you, whenever you’d criticise yourself far too harshly was, ‘You made the house so pretty.’ It became his sole way of complimenting your designs from that day on.

An odd way.

A way to say ‘How lucky am I to have you’.

A loving way.

“I was thinking of a sort of mauve.” Giselle snapped you out of your train of thought, “Too sexy?”

“Not sexy enough I think.” You laugh with her, “Mauvish-purple would do great for the kitchen, but I was thinking more of a burgundy for the bedroom? Or a deep red?”

“Now that—” Giselle leaned forward and clinked her glass with yours, “—is the perfect amount of sexy.”

Another sip of wine cleansed your palette and you scribbled down the colours on a notepad. Red would have gone amazing with the upstairs lounge, but hey. Whatever the client wanted, she got. You wondered mindlessly about who Giselle would be inviting into the pomegranate-stained room at the night. Your own Heeseung popped into your mind. The sight of his veined fingers practically disappearing into your pussy.

“You’re married right?” Giselle tilts her head, looking at you with those gorgeous eyes of hers. Confused at her sudden question you nodded, lifting your hand up to show the golden band sleeping on your finger. It had been ages since you'd taken it out for cleaning.

“I was asking to know what colour your bedroom was.” Giselle giggled, “You seem like a very powder blue person.”

“That’s more my husband's style honestly.” You chuckled, “He loves all things blue. Our bedroom though….” You sighed and then chuckled lightly, “let’s just say it's only chocolate brown because I was in my we-gotta-keep-everything-classy era.” Giselle snorted and you smiled, “I wish we painted it burgundy though,” You said longingly, toying with your glass; the dark red liquid within swirled like the eye of a tornado, “Might make him want to come home to his wife every once in a while.”

Your sister had often commented on how much of a lightweight you were when it came to alcohol. You didn't really believe her, but now, seeing as how you just blurted out that depressing hole of a sentence, you considered if you really were a lightweight or maybe they just made alcohol in Bordeus extra boozy.

To your surprise however, Giselle smirked. “I think I got you covered in that area honey.” She shrugged her shoulders back and breathed in deep, “Alright this meeting is officially over!” She said enthusiastically, placing her glass down with such gusto that you thought she was practically beaming like the sun, “Come on, I'm gonna take you shopping.”

“Giselle what are you—”

“You are in desperate need of some vitamin D, baby” Giselle leaned forward, her dimples were prominently visible, “And I wanna help you out. Consider it as some extra payback.” With a tiny little clap she got up and extended her hand forward.

You took it and slowly stood up, half confused and half excited. You knew Giselle to be the actual embodiment of spontaneity, so while you were expecting her to do something big and bold, you were expecting that to be in the matter of her house and certainly not in your sex life.

But something about the way you had been thinking about him all day, the way you were practically itching to just get a whiff of his alluring scent and the way Giselle’s eyes sparkled eagerly made you get in your car and go on a drive to shop for stuff that you hadn’t paid attention ever since you had graduated.

But after all these years, would Heeseung still prefer red?

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Heeseung’s shoulders were as stiff as stones by the time he finished with the project he had started on weeks ago. It would have been completed about three days ago, were he not struck down with a sudden bout of writer’s block. He sighed quietly into the silent night and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, trying not to fall asleep.

Heeseung had received a slightly worrying message from you earlier in the evening. It consisted of two short sentences; I’ll be coming. Don’t walk back; a far stray from your usual texts.

Had he forgotten something? Probably not your birthday since that was a month ago, Valentines was in February and you two had disappointedly not done anything special, anniversary was still days away.

So what could have prompted his darling, beautiful wife to send him such a monotonous text?

Heeseung sighed again and glanced at the photo frame collecting far too much dust on his desk. A wave of emotion suddenly flooded his mind and body as he stared at your beautiful smiling face. How long had it been since he had even kissed you properly? He wiped a stray tear from his cheek and took in a shaky breath.

The most ridiculous thought had popped up in his mind when he had first received your text. It was something that he had promised himself—on the day after your wedding—never to think about. What if you finally felt that it was time to serve him the divorce papers?

Heeseung had to admit that it wouldn't come as a surprise considering how little you two had spent time in the past…..

Great.

He couldn't even remember the last time you spent time together.

What an amazing husband he was.

Letting out a tired groan, he leaned forward to rest his throbbing head on his desk. He was practically counting down every second until you arrived at the doorstep.

Heeseung smiled to himself. Though he was dreading whatever you were going to tell him when you arrived, he also couldn't wait to stare into the beautiful abysses of your eyes again, a chain of stars enveloping them just as they had done ever since he had met you.

Taking a quick glance around his studio, he was utterly confused for a moment when he saw that it was relatively cleaner than it usually was. And then he remembered how he had spent his time the two days before, deep cleaning the entire room in order to break out of the musical rut he was stuck in.

Tap, tap, tap.

The quietness of the space was suddenly interrupted by three gentle knocks on the studio door. Heeseung’s eyes shot open and his hand unconsciously drifted up to his hair, running his fingers through it to make sure he looked not half dead or sleep deprived. He took a deep breath that did nothing to soothe his nerves and slowly walked to the door. His hand rested on the handle for a minute before he opened the door.

Heeseung was famously known among the music community to be the kind of man every woman needed. This fact was illustrated by how he always looked at you as if you were the only person in the world. The paparazzi photos of him were embarrassingly cute (Your words, not his); big doe eyes staring at his wife, admiring her like an artist admired his muse. For him, it was true. The air did always change when you stepped anywhere near a 10 metre radius of him.

“Baby….” Heeseung breathed out, it felt like he hadn't said that word in ages, “Come in.”

The familiar scent of lemon and roses floated into his nostrils and Heeseung felt as if he had been transported back in time. To a scene where nothing could go wrong. Small stems of baby’s breath decorated your hair and the sun kissed your face so perfectly.

Heeseung hoped fervently that the poetic romance of that day did not evaporate into the Heavens.

“Hey.” You mumbled, placing your arms awkwardly by your side; your moss green double breasted coat didn't have deep-enough pockets and you didn't know what to do with your hands, “Why does everything look weirdly clean?” You smiled faintly at the cleared out desk and Heeseung swore his heart skipped a beat or two.

“Just…” He trailed off, tracing his eyes over your beautiful features, “Couldn't think, so I guess the Marie Kondo within me leapt out.”

A small laugh escaped your lips and you realised your vision was fixed on the floor. You wanted to look up at him, admire each and every line that formed his magnificent countenance and throw yourself onto him, like you used to. But you remained fixed in your space, not daring to make the first move, lest your luck got thrown off.

“Wanna sit down?” Heeseung’s voice was coy, careful—as if he was talking to a ticking time bomb. You merely nodded and sat down on the grey couch in the corner, while Heeseung pulled his swivel chair close so that he faced you. The atmosphere was tense and the bubble of anxiety between the both of you was waiting patiently to pop.

“So..”

“So?” Your voice tipped on the higher pitch and your eyes flickered up to finally look at him. God he was absolutely magnificent, his hair a mess, his skin like a sculpture and his eyes…..You couldn't even begin to describe them. You were leaning forward with your arms propped on your knees; the distance between you and him was very little.

“Hee I—” Your breath hitched when you met his eyes, “I just wanted to come over and um…..” You had the sentence in your head—you wanted to talk about how the both of you hadn't been a married couple lately. But for some reason you couldn't get the stupid words out of your mouth. You took a deep breath and straightened your back as you often did when you spoke to clients, but before you could start—

“I’m sorry.” Heeseung’s voice sounded heartbreaking, “I am so sorry that I haven't been paying attention to you lately, doll.” You could see him fighting back the tears, “I will do anything to make up for lost time. Anything.” He reaches his hand up and caresses your cheek, you melt into his touch like soft ice cream on a summer day, “I love you so much, you know that right? So please…” The air between you completely changes as he slips off the chair and sits on his knees in front of you, holding your hands so tightly in his and looking up at you with eyes filled with nothing but adoration, “Please don’t leave me.”

It didn't take a second’s more thought for you to throw your arms around him, tightly holding him as if he'd float away and this moment would evaporate into the darkness if you let go. He smelled like soft cherry scented shampoo and all of a night’s dreams. And by god had you missed that so much.

“I will never leave you.” You whispered gently into his ear, “I think I love you too much to do that.” Heeseung’s grip around your body was comforting, and though you didn't want to, you pulled back to look at him.

Heaven is often described as a place on Earth.

A place.

To you, Heaven couldn't be farther than a physical place. Heaven was more of a feeling, an emotion, something you could never actually touch but could only experience as a moment that rushed past you faster than you could blink. Heaven could be long-lasting as well. Or at least as long as you ran out of breath.

Heeseung's soft lips felt like warm cream on yours, along with whatever he had been drinking earlier. Red wine, most probably, his ears were flush red, and he completely overtook you. His hands around your body, pulling you closer and closer by the moment, leaving no space for hesitation between the both of you, as if he were saying "I am yours, you are mine, of what worth is the wavering air between us?"

The feeling of his lips gentle on the tender flesh had you humming softly, eyes fluttering shut as he showered you with gentle kisses. He traced your skin again and again—feeling the way you relax further into his hold. In that moment, you felt as if you trusted him with everything you had; your body, your soul, in life or death, awake and in sleep.

Till death do you part, a small voice rang in the back of your head, which had you pulling back from the kiss to look at him one more time. Even if you'd have an eternity more to stare at those tantalising features of his, you'd cherish every single time you did.

“I love you.” The three simple words flowed from your mouth, and though to you it sounded like a 13 year old girl’s confession on Valentine's, it brought the biggest grin to Heeseung’s face.

“I love you too, doll.” Heeseung chuckled, caressing your face once more, “You wanna get back home and cuddle?”

While the thought of eating some week-old leftovers and cuddling while watching some shitty rom-com felt like a dream, you had other ideas in mind. And you weren't about to waste any of the knowledge that Giselle had provided you with through her many lectures all afternoon.

“Actually—” You pulled your hand from him and pressed it to the first button of your coat, “I was thinking we could do something else.” Your fingers toyed with the button enough to pull it away. The sight of your chest and collarbone made Heeseung freeze as the top half of the coat fluttered off. The beautiful red lace made your skin (and your boobs) pop, as if it were made specifically for you. Heeseung didn't know if it was his touch-deprived mind doing it, but you looked like an actual Goddess.

“I mean, it’s alright if you don't want to.” You said, slightly panicked by his frozen expression, “I just wanted to—”

You didn't get to finish your sentence, before he was all over you. His chest was solid heat against you, his weight pressing you into the couch like he’s making sure you stay there. Your breath catches, chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven movements as you try to process just how quickly the shift between you has turned into this.

“You’re the hottest fucking wife, you know that?” he muttered through clenched teeth, his voice a growl of frustration and something deeper, something rougher. His breath fanned against your ear, hot and unsteady, sending a shiver down your spine.

The room was dimly lit, the glow from Heeseung’s reading lamp cast a golden hue throughout the room. The air was thick with his scent, the sharp smell of age old rum, and the lingering traces of your perfume. Heeseung leaned in again, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw, hesitant yet certain. You tilted your head slightly, your breath warm against his lips. The weight of the day melted away as his hands found you, grounding you in the present, in him.

Your mouths met, slow at first, testing, teasing. Your hand curled around the back of his neck, pulling him closer until there was no space left between the both of you. The couch creaked underneath as he shifted, pressing you deeper into the cushions, your bodies tangled in the heat of the moment.

“I’ve missed this..” Heeseung vaguely mumbled, but you didn't answer him. You don't really need to—the way your body reacted to his touch was enough evidence for him to conclude that you had missed this too.

His fingers traced the second button of your coat, ghosting over the bare skin of your upper stomach. You exhaled sharply, your body arching into him in response. Your hand fiddled with the button until the coat skipped off from your shoulders, leaving you completely exposed in front of him.

You pulled away just enough to meet his gaze, your lips swollen, eyes dark with something unspoken. He cupped your face, thumb running over your cheek, and smiled. "You're trouble," he murmured, voice thick with want, “A whole lot of trouble.” His eyes traced hungrily over the red lace decorating your chest.

“I thought you liked trouble.” you grinned, pulling him back down. "Isn’t that why you married me, Mr Lee?”

You could feel his hard boner nudge your aching pussy through the brand new red lace panties. His desire to be touched, the absolute starvation that lingered within the deepest crevices of him, it all rose up as soon as he laid his eyes on you. And the lingerie only made it worse.

The red lace set was a masterpiece of elegance and allure. The bra, crafted from delicate floral lace, caught your eye as soon as you had walked into the store earlier that day. It featured sheer cups that teased with just the right amount of transparency, scalloped edges tracing the curves of the décolletage, while thin, adjustable straps added a touch of softness to the sultry design. Heeseung’s eyes were yet to leave your cleavage.

The matching panties mirrored the bra’s intricate lace pattern, hugging your hips with a blend of seduction and comfort. A thin band of satin encircled your waist, dipping into a cheeky cut at the back that left just enough to the imagination of the man whose wedding band shone against your skin. The tiny satin bow propped right in the middle proved to be a final, irresistible detail in a set made to captivate.

The air between you was thick with anticipation, charged with the quiet electricity that only years of love and desire could cultivate. It carried a quiet hum of anticipation, thick with unspoken words and the weight of a shared desire that had simmered beneath the surface all evening. His hands rested lightly on your hips, fingers brushing over the delicate lace of the lingerie. The deep red fabric was a stunning contrast against your skin, a sinful temptation in itself.

“May I?”

Heeseung’s touch was slow, reverent, as though he were unwrapping something fragile and precious. His fingertips traced the lace-covered curve of your waist, the smooth dip of your belly, and the gentle rise of your ribcage. You inhaled sharply, your body reacting to his touch before your mind could catch up. Heeseung was delighted about how he could feel the way your breath stuttered, the way you leaned into him, silently urging him forward.

He lifted his hands to your shoulders, his thumbs skimming your collarbones before curling around the thin straps of your bra. Slowly, almost teasingly, he slid them down, watching as the lace loosened against your skin. The bra clung for a moment before slipping, gravity taking over, baring you to him in a way that made his breath hitch.

His lips followed the path his hands had taken, leaving slow, lingering kisses against your shoulder, the sensitive skin of your neck. You shivered, your fingers tightening in the fabric of Heeseung’s shirt as though you needed something to hold on to. He took his time, letting his mouth explore, tasting the warmth of you, feeling the slight tremors that rippled through you as his lips moved lower.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, his voice hushed, thick with something deeper than mere admiration.

You sighed into him, tilting your head back to give him more access, surrendering to his touch. Heeseung let his hands roam, relearning every curve, every dip, every soft plane of your body as though he had never touched you before. He wanted to savor this—you, this moment, the anticipation coiling in between like a viper.

His hands slid lower, skimming over your midriff before tracing the edge of your panties. The lace was delicate beneath his fingers, but not nearly as delicate as the way you trembled under his touch. He leaned back for a moment, just enough to let his eyes roam over you, drinking in the sight of you. You were breathtaking, and he wanted to make sure you knew it.

You reached for him then, fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt, desperate to close the mere inches of distance. Heeseung let you pull it over his head, let your hands explore the warmth of his skin, the hard lines of his chest. Your touch was embarrassingly eager, filled with quiet urgency, like a girl about to lose her virginity. But Heeseung was determined to take his sweet time.

Gently, he caught your wrists, stilling your movements. “Let me, darling.” he whispered, his voice low, rough with restraint. Something he knew turned you on.

Heeseung’s hands smoothed over your thighs, tracing slow circles as he kissed his way lower, lingering over the places he knew would make you shiver. Years of marriage made him an expert in navigating your body—he knew all your….special spots better than you did. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down just enough to expose the delicate skin beneath. Heeseung paused, savoring the moment, watching the way your breath quickened, the way your fingers curled into the sofa.

And then, with aching slowness, he slid the lace down, inch by inch, kissing each new bit of skin revealed to him. He let the fabric pool at your feet, his hands following the path of the lace before he finally looked up at you, his expression dark, filled with quiet worship.

Heeseung had you pressed against the backrest of the couch, bare in every aspect—your body, your soul and your naked heart, all out for him to take care of. He kissed you again, deep and slow, pouring everything into the moment—the love, the hunger, the devotion that burned just beneath the surface.

“Mine.” he murmured possessively against your lips, and you smiled, your fingers tangling in his soft, soft hair as you pulled him down once more.

He’s close, impossibly close, his warmth pressing against you like a promise. His breath was hot against your neck, teasing the sensitive skin there before he pressed a slow, deliberate kiss just below your ear. You shuddered, anticipation thrumming through your veins, your fingers digging into the skin of his back as his lips traced a path lower, grazing along your collarbone.

"That eager, huh baby?" he murmured, his voice rough, threaded with something dark and deep. Your breath caught as his hands explored—mapping the soft planes of your stomach, the curve of your hips—before dipping lower. His fingers brushed at your entrance, a feather-light touch that left you aching, needing more.

You shifted, your body instinctively pressing into him, silently pleading for his touch. Heeseung chuckled, a low, knowing sound that sent heat pooling deep within you. "So impatient." he said, his fingers slipping in a bit, only a bit. You knew how much your husband likes to tease— it always drove you mad and right now, it made you positively insane.

"Heeseung..." you whispered, your voice barely more than breath, "Don't tease."

He pressed his lips to yours, claiming you in a kiss that stole the air from your lungs. His fingers finally slid in, finding you wet, ready, desperate for him. His touch was slow at first, torturously so, teasing along your folds, spreading the heat of your desire. Your hips arched, seeking more, but he held you firm, dictating the pace, savoring every reaction.

You were lost, fluttering eyes fighting the fog, the way he reached into your guts. It had you struggling and gasping. It’s practically pathetic how high he could get you only with his fingers. But hey, you were a girl whose pussy hadn't been touched in ages. You were bound to enjoy the thrill of the chase.

When Heeseung’s fingers curled tight round your innards, thick digits pressing dimples into your hole, you finally started to snap into reality.

“Yeah, baby,” he laughed down into your face, teeth glistening in the soft light, “I'm here, i’m here.” He breathed against your lips, his fingers dipping inside you, curling just right, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through your core, “So tight for me fuck…”

Your body responded instantly, tightening around him, your hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he moves, stroking, coaxing you higher. Each movement was calculated, designed to pull you apart, to draw pleasure from you like a song only he knows how to play.

His mouth trailed down your throat, his free hand cupping your face, keeping you close as he drank in every gasp, every moan that spilled from your lips. He moved with purpose now, his rhythm deepening, his thumb circling your most sensitive spot, pushing you closer to the edge.

You're lost in him, drowning in sensation, in the way he worships you with every touch, every whispered word. Your body tightened, pleasure coiling deep within you, and he felt it—felt the way you were unraveling beneath him. You hadn't had an orgasm in so long, and he knew it. And boy wouldn't he love to give his pretty wife what she wanted.

"Let go for me, pretty girl," he murmured, his voice thick with need, with reverence.

And you do.

The pleasure crashed over you, white-hot and overwhelming, your body trembling in his grasp as he guided you through it, his touch never wavering. Heeseung watched you, eyes dark with hunger and something deeper, something that speaks of love, of devotion, of forever.

A soft whimper tumbled from your lips, and you bit down hard on your bottom lip, the rest of the sound dying in your throat. His fingers pulled on your hair, and the sharp tug sent a jolt straight to your cunt. You tried to choke back the reaction, but it was impossible—the way he was holding you, the way he was pressing into you with every word, every move.

As the aftershocks faded, he pulled you close, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple, his hands tracing soothing patterns over your skin. You melted against him, breathless, sated, utterly his.

"Why are you looking at me that way, doll? Something wrong with my face?" Heeseung asked, tilting his head to the side. You reached up and cupped the side of his face, staring into his eyes, wholly lost in them.

Your name from his lips made your brain fuzzy, affecting you more than any alcohol. You tried to get the image out of your head, but you couldn't. How good he’d look trembling, with your mouth around him. How gorgeous he’d seem with his hands tangled in your hair, begging you to let him cum. The floor of the studio wasn't carpeted with the finest material for nothing.

Sliding off the sofa, you knelt between his legs in one swift motion. As you leaned into him, your hands tracing slow, languid patterns along his thighs, he was already watching you with that heavy-lidded gaze, the one that sent heat curling low in your stomach, the one that told you exactly what he wanted without ever needing to say a word.

Slowly, deliberately, you reached for his belt, your movements unhurried, savoring the way anticipation coiled between them. The sound of the buckle coming undone was sharp in the quiet room, followed by the soft rasp of the zipper as you eased it down. He exhaled, long and slow, his legs spreading just a little wider in invitation.

You smiled against his skin, kissing lower now, your lips brushing across his hip, feeling the way his breath hitched every time you moved. You loved this—this slow unraveling, this delicious build-up of tension.

Your hands moved with practiced ease, freeing Heeseung from the confines of his clothing, and when you finally touched him, his breath came out in a shudder. You glanced up, meeting your husband’s gaze, and the heat you found there sent a thrill through you. There was something raw in his expression, something hungry, and you loved knowing that you were the one who put it there.

You looked up at him, lips curling into a teasing smile as your fingertips traced slow, lazy patterns along his length. He exhaled, his hand brushing through your hair, fingers weaving gently through the strands. The anticipation was electric, charged with unspoken promises.

“Fuck baby..” Heeseung sighed, you could hear a tinge of frustration in his voice, “don’t keep teasing me.”

You tilted your head, your lips curling as you let your fingers press just a little firmer, “Am I?” you whispered, knowing full well the answer.

Every movement was slow, intentional—a silent conversation, where words were unnecessary. You took your time, reveling in the way he responded to you, in the way his breath came heavier, in the soft sounds he made that sent shivers down your spine. There was something intoxicating about this power too, about the way you could unravel him with the simplest of touches.

“Scared, doll?” Heeseung mused, “You haven't had much practice in a long time.” That cocky smile of his drove you off your rocker, but you kept your pride. You could see the way his fingers flexed against the couch as he surrendered to the pleasure of your touch, of your devotion to this moment.

You pressed a kiss to his aching tip, lingering for a moment, breathing him in. Tracing the tip of your nose along the line of his cock, you felt the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch, the way his fingers curled just a little tighter against your scalp. You grab the base of his cock, giving it a slight squeeze to draw more noises out of the man. Satisfied by a little grunt, you snicker and open your mouth, taking his tip into it eagerly.

And then in less than a second, Heeseung’s entire world turned turtle.

His head fell back against the couch, a soft curse slipping from his lips as your mouth hugged his dick so fucking perfectly, your pace unhurried, but deliberate—just how he liked it. You watched the way his chest rose and fell, the way his fingers flexed against your scalp, the way his thighs tensed beneath your hands.

His hands found your hair, his fingers sinking into the soft waves. The warmth of his skin against your scalp sent a shiver through you, and you exhaled slowly, your own pulse quickening in response to his.

All he cared for was the feel of your wet mouth all the way down him, spit drooling down his cock. You were doing so well and he wanted you to know.

“Fuck.” He jolts, head tipping back and eyes shutting happily. You focus on only the tip for a moment, swirling your tongue around the head and collecting the embarrassing amount of precum before sinking your head down and taking as much of his length as you can.

"You wanna take me deep, huh?" he grunted, clutching onto your hair and holding you down. You gagged around him. He chuckled. "I'm not even all the way in there. You got room for more, pretty girl?"

You dragged your mouth up, taking a deep breath and nodding. You wiped your mouth from the mess you made and went in again.

You sputtered for a moment, but regained your bearings and start to move. His tip was hitting the back of your throat as if urging you to take more, but you physically couldn't.

The sound of him—the quiet groans, the way his breath stuttered every time you did something new—sent warmth pooling low in your stomach. you could feel your own pulse thrumming wildly, your own skin burning with the same desire you were coaxing from him.

Minutes stretched between you, each moment thick with heat, with whispered curses and barely contained restraint. He was holding on, trying not to let go too soon, trying to savor the moment as much as you were.

“Look at you, baby.” Heeseung praises, lifting his hips up to encourage you to take him. You were resting your head on his thigh and taking a moment, but the sight of him literally aching for you has you moving quickly.

You took him again and again, deeper, bobbing him in your throat until he was a grunting and groaning mess. His hips moved of their own accord, shoving himself in even when there was nowhere else to go.

But the sounds of gagging, of his balls slapping against his own thighs as he moved, of the moans coming out of you were enough to almost have him finishing in your mouth. Almost.

You could feel him trembling now, his control slipping, his breath coming in shorter, sharper bursts. you curled your fingers around his wrist, pulling his hand from your hair and lacing their fingers together, grounding him as you pushed him closer and closer to the edge.

He wanted to, boy did he, but he wouldn't, not until your cunt had swallowed him.

Heeseung pulled you up, letting you release him with a pop. "Want to be inside, need to be inside." When you looked up, his eyes were heavy-lidded, his expression utterly wrecked, and the sight of it sent another wave of warmth flooding through you.

He reached for you then, pulling you up, guiding you into his lap, his hands strong and steady as they settled against your hips. His forehead rested against yours, his breath still uneven, but his voice was soft when he finally spoke.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he murmured, pressing a lazy kiss to the corner of your mouth. He really had been neglecting you. Work, stress, life—it all got in the way. But tonight, he was going to make it up to you. He was going to fuck you like he should have all along.

“You wanna have some real fun baby?” Your husband tilted your head up with a finger under your jaw. His eyes darted to his side, prompting you to look.

Oh, you exhaled, of course.

His definition of fun was never going to be anything sane. The grand Steinway piano sat in the corner of the room, dark black wood shining like a rockstar even in the dim light. It was perhaps the most expensive thing you had ever gifted him, the gold standard of pianos that you had bought with the first ‘big’ job you had ever done.

“Does this fun involve possibly destroying a very expensive instrument?” You chuckled breathily. The smug (extremely hot) smirk decorating Heeseung's face answered your question.

“You know, I’ve been stuck with writer’s block for a while,” Heeseung got to his feet, hoisting you up in his arms, and walking so very slowly to the polished piano in the corner of the tranquil studio. "Wanna give me some inspiration doll?" The wooden piano bench creaked dangerously under the weight of them both, Heeseung's body already reacting to the mere air of you.

He ran his palms across your perked up nipples, leaning forward, and stroking your wet entrance with his fingers, his tongue exploring your mouth. You sighed against him, pressing against his fingers, and hummed, being pulled like a puppet by the music in your mind.

You moaned softly as he slipped a rough finger past the warm, wet, slick walls of your slippery pussy. His heat rose when he heard a whimper escape your throat. You wriggled backward, grinding your hips, desperate for him to fuck you.

You gasped, your body arching against his. "Heeseung, oh!” He rubbed his slick fingers against your entrance. You shivered, your breath hitching as he pushed one finger inside you, then another, stretching you gently.

You were so fucking sensitive, it drove Heeseung to bits and pieces, like a melody he couldn’t quite figure out. Your body jerked with each touch as he leaned in, his lips finding your warm skin. He teased and licked as his fingers moved faster, deeper, pushing you back to the edge. You moaned, your hips writhing, chasing his touch like a madwoman.

“Fuck baby,” Heeseung smiled at you—the kind of smile that only made you want to sink your teeth into him, “Already so close?” As if he hadn't already massacred all your senses enough, he proceeded to bite down on your shoulder, his cock pressing against you, "Yeah, that's it.” He praised as tiny, breathless whimpers escaped your mouth. “Sing for me, love. Show me how you feel."

"Please," you moaned, your voice a haunting harmony to him, your eyes locked onto his. He grinned, his hips moving just enough to tease you. He rubbed the head of his cock against your vulva, making you gasp. "Heeseung, please please pleasee..." you begged, your body squirming beneath him.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against yours. "Use your words, doll" he whispered, his voice a low growl. He rubbed his cock against you again. "Tell me what you want me to do to you." He kissed your neck, his sharp teeth nipping at your skin.

"Fuck me," you moaned, your body arching against his. "I want you to fuck me, Heeseung. Hard."

“That’s a good girl.” Heeseung rubbed the head of his cock against you, slicking it effortlessly through your folds, “Look at you, using your big girl words.” You didn't even feel it, as you reached for him, your hands grabbing his back, trying to pull him into you. He chuckled, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head with one hand.

With his fingers, he grabbed your head, and gently pulled your hair, before kissing you. The first contact was delicate. A brush, a pause, and then a deeper press — warmer, with purpose. His mouth parted slightly, inviting you in. The kiss deepened, becoming fuller, more molten. Your lips moved in rhythm, a tender push and pull, like waves tugging at the shore. There's a soft sigh — quiet but involuntary — as your mouths open wider, tongues meeting in slow, liquid strokes that spoke of longing.

Your eyes rolled back, as he buried his cock deep inside of you; you could feel him everywhere—your legs, your chest, your heart. You whimpered softly, bit your lip, and started moving your hips in sync with his.

The piano keys banged and sang, but it was your voice that Heeseung wanted to hear. He bit gently into your flesh again, completely drunk on your very being. His fingers dug into you, your body slamming into the piano with every thrust.

Heeseung’s teeth kept nibbling on your neck, a low groan escaping his throat. He released your wrists, letting your arms wander about as your right eventually found his back and your left, a portion of the piano, pressing down in an attempt to balance yourself.

The melody began somewhere in an erratic G minor, warm and lush — like his velvet fingertips tracing your skin. Your left hand, desperately pressing on random keys played slow, pulsing, mixed up chords, deep and resonant, like a steady heartbeat in the dark. There’s space between the notes — a deliberate pause, a breath held just a moment too long.

Your nails dug into his back, possibly drawing blood, as he picked up the pace, his hips slamming against yours, his cock driving deep into you. You met his thrusts with practiced precision, your body still remembered perfectly each and every session he had ever given you—whether it be a soft lovemaking hour on a lazy morning, or an unrestrained conclave of your bodies after a rough night.

There was no give in his piston-force thrusts, only the relentless pounding of his cock inside you, stretching you, filling you completely. Your breath came ragged, your body slick with sweat, the air thick with the scent of lust. The sound of a glorious harmony filled the room, being played by the orchestra that was the yearning moans escaping from the both of you, and the dissonantly melodious sounds coming from the piano.

Heeseung released your hips, his hands sliding up to your breasts, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh. He leaned back, his cock never stopping its punishing rhythm, and looked down at your body, trembling under the intensity of it all.

The air around you was forgotten, your bodies the only instruments in the room. Heeseung thrust harder, faster—like a man starved of touch. You met him thrust for thrust, your body arching against his. He could feel your pussy tightening around him, your body on the blissful edge of release. You all but screamed, chanting his name over and over again and again like a broken record.

“t-too much, Hee-, n-no” and it’s a broken, desperate cry, hands violently pawing at the backs of his thighs when he shoves himself meters into you.

"Aww poor baby." he said , his hands moving to your thighs, he could see his cock slipping in and out of you, glistening with your arousal, "Tired?" It wasn't a sweet coo, it was a harsh taunting, a mere joke to him to watch your eyes cross, and roll.

You could feel every ridge, every vein, the way the tip of his pretty cock layed sweet frenchies against your cervix. The world blurred into nothing—no time, no place, just the rhythm of your breaths, the hum of your connection. The taste of your skin, the way your fingers dug into his back, the soft sighs and quiet gasps—it was intoxicating.

Heeseung pulled back, his eyes locked onto you. He could feel his own orgasm building, his balls tightening with each thrust.

You reached up, your hands grabbing his face, pulling him down to you. "Cum with me," you moaned, your body bucking against his. "Cum inside me, Hee— oh fuck!" His cock throbbed at your words, his pace spiralling out of control.

Heeseung leaned down, his forehead resting against yours. "That's it," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "That's it, pretty girl—cum all over me." You moaned loudly into his mouth, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm. Everything outside your body fades, time distorts, a shiver crawls up your spine, electric, deliciously unbearable.

“Heeseung!” You cry out, as your muscles tense, “Oh god, i love you i love you i love you!” You had no idea what you were saying, as you completely melted into him.

"I love you too, pretty girl," he said, his voice a low murmur. He leaned down, his lips finding yours in a soft, gentle kiss.

A wave crashes over the both of you—not harsh, but engulfing. Melodic moans escape from your bodies, as any inkling of rational thought dissolves. It is both explosion and surrender — a collapsing inward, a bright and shattering release that leaves only breath and heartbeat behind.

“Fucking hell…” Heeseung breathed slowly, the after-shock of the intense orgasm hitting him. He almost collapsed onto you as he pulled out slowly.

He could feel your heart pounding against his chest, your breaths ragged and uneven. A comfortable silence filled the room, a quiet that hummed through the bones. What remained was a familiar sort of softness. A kind of completion that language could only ever chase.

“I love you.” Heeseung broke the silence first, resting his forehead on yours, “I love you a lot.” A giggle came from his lips as he peppered kisses all over your face—a complete contrast to the way he was handling you about five minutes ago.

"I love you too, Hee." You whispered against his lips, a mischievous smile creeping up on your face, “Round two?”

A low chuckle rang through your ears.

“Round two.” Heeseung chuckled lowly, "But this time..." his hands and body left you momentarily as he reached over to his desk, pressing the big red button that said 'RECORD' on it.

"You don't mind if I use your voice for the new album, do you baby?

fin.

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