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Haruki laid on the bed, legs crossed, TV remote resting limply in his hand. The screen played some mindless sitcom, laugh track and all, but he wasn’t watching. He couldn’t. The volume was low—barely a whisper—because he wasn’t really listening to the show either.
His ears were tuned to the faint sounds rising from downstairs.
Every once in a while, he’d hear it: the delicate giggle he knew all too well. Cierra’s laugh when she was turned on, when someone flirted with her just right. Followed by the low rumble of Kyle’s voice. Sometimes the creak of the couch. Once, unmistakably, a soft moan. His chest tightened.
It wasn’t like he didn’t know what was happening. She’d told him. Plain and simple.
“Go upstairs, babe. Kyle and I are going to hang for a while. You don’t need to be here for this.”
Her voice was sweet, as if she were talking about trying a new cocktail, not fucking his best friend.
And now, here he was, obediently upstairs, mind spinning, body still, heart pounding. Time passed in strange shapes—was it an hour? Two?
Then he heard footsteps. Light but assured. The door creaked open and in walked Cierra.
She was radiant.
Hair tousled, skin flushed, that unmistakable glow—like she’d just won a prize. She wore only an oversized tee, probably Kyle’s by the way it draped on her like a trophy. Her thighs were bare, her nipples stiff through the thin cotton.
And that smile.
It wasn’t cruel, but it was owning. Confident. Knowing. The kind of smile a woman wears when she’s claimed something, or someone, and she wants you to know all about it.
“Come here,” she said, her voice smooth, commanding.
Haruki slid off the bed without thinking. She held out her hand, took his wrist, and guided it between her thighs. Her warmth met his fingers first… and then slickness. A wet, creamy mess coated his fingertips. He didn’t move.
“Well?” she asked, raising a brow.
“You’re… you’re really wet,” he managed, throat dry.
She grinned wider. “Am I?”
Then came the whisper. “Now taste your fingers.”
His breath caught. For a moment he hesitated, eyes flicking up to hers. She didn’t repeat herself, didn’t need to. That expectant look was enough. Slowly, he brought his fingers to his lips and sucked gently, coating his tongue.
The taste hit him—salty, rich, unmistakable.
Kyle.
His knees weakened. His lips parted. The shock in his eyes must’ve been too obvious because Cierra rolled hers with a playful scoff.
“What did you think we were doing down there? Playing Mario Kart?” she teased, already climbing into bed.
She turned away from him, pulling the covers back and settling in on her side.
“Get in. Spoon me,” she said simply.
He did as he was told, wrapping his arms around her soft, warm frame, face nestled into the back of her neck. Her hair smelled like his shampoo. His hips brushed the swell of her ass, and even as his heart twisted, his cock thickened in his shorts.
Cierra tilted her head slightly, her voice soft but direct.
“So, Haruki…” she purred. “What do you think about your friend Kyle fucking me and then me coming upstairs full of his cum? How does that make you feel?”
He swallowed hard. His voice trembled.
“I… I don’t know. It’s a lot.”
Her hand found his. Fingers laced.
“No. I want to hear it. All of it. Tell me.”
And so he did.
“It makes me feel…” he paused, breath hitching. “Sick to my stomach. Like something sacred just happened without me. Like I’m not enough. But also… weirdly excited. Like I’m proud of you for getting what you want. And ashamed that I let it happen. And turned on—so fucking turned on—because I can’t stop thinking about it.”
She let him keep going, didn’t interrupt. Her breathing was calm, measured.
“I feel sad,” he said finally, voice cracking, “because you came upstairs like you were done with me. Like you didn’t need me. And I just… laid here, waiting. Wondering if you’d even come to bed.”
There was a silence after that. Heavy and real.
Then she spoke.
“You weren’t not included,” she said softly. “You were exactly where I wanted you.”
He blinked. “What?”
“You think I don’t know what it does to you? Knowing you’re up here while I’m taking cock downstairs? Hearing me moan, knowing you can’t do anything but lay there with your thoughts and your hard little cock?” She chuckled. “Baby, that’s part of it. I love watching you squirm like that. Love that you felt it, even without seeing it.”
Haruki’s heart thudded.
She turned slightly in his arms, looking over her shoulder at him, her eyes sleepy and sharp all at once.
“And let’s be honest. If I’d come upstairs and told you to get on your knees and clean me with your tongue, you would’ve begged for it, wouldn’t you?”
His face burned. He nodded. “Yes.”
“Mmhmm. I know you would.” She reached back and grabbed the base of his erection through his shorts, gave it a lazy squeeze. “You’re hard as fuck just thinking about it.”
“I can’t help it,” he murmured.
“I know,” she said again. “That’s why it works.”
He nuzzled into her neck, clinging tighter.
“You’re everything to me,” he whispered.
“And you’re mine,” she replied, firm and warm.
Then she softened her voice just enough to make him melt.
“You’re my sweet little house-husband, my obedient toy, and my biggest fan. You watch your porn through me, Haruki. I’m your show. Your fantasy.”
He kissed the back of her shoulder. “Always.”
“Do you love that I let Kyle stretch me out while you waited?”
His breath shook. “Yes.”
“Do you love knowing his cum is still dripping inside me while you hold me?”
“…Yes.”
She smiled again.
“Good. Now stay hard, stay quiet, and just feel it. Feel what it means to love a woman who doesn’t need your permission.”
They laid like that for a long time—her wrapped in his arms, him wrapped in her scent, her taste, her power.
And when she finally fell asleep, he was still awake. Still hard. Still holding her like the treasure she was.
His goddess.
His everything.
And hers.
