Chapter 2

Unlocking your front door shouldn't be this difficult, but there's a Chuu currently cradled in your arms and her impatience is only making it harder.

"Hurry up, I'm drying up down there," she huffs.

You fiddle with your keys some more, trying and failing to get it into the keyhole. "I'm trying, but—"

"If you say it's because I'm heavy, I'll kill you."

Finally, the door clicks open. You don't even bother kicking off your shoes or turning on the lights; after seeing the video she sent you earlier, all either of you can think about is getting to a bedroom.

"So," you lay her down on the bed, taking in her lacy white dress, "what's the concept of the new music video supposed to be?"

"You're seriously asking that now?" Chuu grabs your collar and forces your lips onto hers. Like the flip of a switch, your body begins to move with practiced ease as you grind against her, feeling up her familiar curves.

"I was just curious," you say during a momentary pause for air.

"Well, I'm horny."

The pause doesn't last long. You lay claim to her throat, marring her porcelain skin with hot pinks and reds, branding her as yours and yours alone. Chuu's hands sneak under your shirt, you respond with a trace up her thigh; a consistent trading of blows where both of you win in the end. You can see the want in the way she squirms, hear it in the way she mewls your name, feel it in how her muscles tense and relax under your touch.

Her dress, as beautiful as it is, only serves to get in the way of what you really want. Tug it up her torso, get rid of all the little barriers until they're forgotten pieces of fabric littering your floor.

"I figured you might've already finished earlier," you say, kneeling in worship before her ready cunt. The scent of her sex never fails to intoxicate you.

"I'm not that crazy." Her plump bottom lip gets caught between her teeth as you pepper her thighs in kisses. "My manager would've definitely—ah—found out if I came in the car."

"You always were the noisy one." Case in point: as you lick a long, slow line up to her clit, a steady stream of garbled vowels flow from her lips, crescendoing as you flick your tongue against her sweet spot.

"God, please just shut up and eat me out," she begs.

"Yes ma'am."

Chuu becomes the definition of pleasure as you get to work between her legs: back arching off the bed, eyes squeezed shut, fingers gripping your hair for dear life. Making love to her is a science you've perfected; you even have her specific reactions memorized. A flick of your tongue, her legs squeeze your head. A drag of your finger there, a rough "Oh" rips from her throat. Put too much attention on her thighs, she'll pull you right back into her core.

You know her tics, she knows yours. That's the key to a healthy relationship, really: complete obsession.

"Oh my fucking god," Chuu bucks her hips desperately against your tongue, "I fucking love you."

You answer back by doubling down, eager to give her the release that she so badly craves. Work your tongue until it's sore, drink up every last drop of her, eat her out like a starving man to a cornucopia. You can say you love her a thousand times, but there's better things for your mouth to be doing.

"Yes! Oh my god!" Her breathing gets heavier, as if her body is using all its power just to keep itself together. "Just like that!"

Finally, your hard work pays off; Chuu tenses up as wave after wave of pleasure rolls through her like a tsunami. The pressure of her thighs against your skull increases tenfold, muffling your other senses until all you can feel is the taste of her nectar. She practically squeezes your head off, but it wouldn't be so bad, you think, to die at this very moment. In fact, you welcome the possibility.

Eventually, her body goes lax and you're back to the world of the living. You travel upwards, trailing a line of kisses from her navel, the valley of her breasts, the underside of her chin, all the way to the tippy top of her forehead.

"How'd I do?" you ask softly, brushing a strand of hair off her damp face.

She smiles up at you. "A+, as usual," Chuu coos. A slow arm trails behind your neck as she closes the distance. "I've been needing that all week."

"Are you stressed?" You draw circles against the soft curves of her back.

She shrugs. "Work as usual." Her fingers get lost in your hair, gently tugs like pinpricks on the back of your head. "How was dinner?"

"Nothing compared to the meal I just had," you joke, earning a light slap on the chest.

"I thought you said that I was 'gross'."

"I was kidding."

Chuu presses a small kiss to your collarbone. "I know."

A flicker of moonlight streams in through the curtains, reflecting against her eyes. All at once, you're reminded of why you fell so hard for in the first place: how beautiful she is, inside and out, her abundance of hard work and talent, how a day never passes by where she doesn't have a smile on her face.

You're reminded again when the soft skin of her hand grips your throbbing member. "Mind if I return the favor?" she asks, all casual and doll-eyed.

"I don't see why not."

With a smirk, Chuu makes her way downwards until she's eye level with your shaft. "It's so much bigger than the picture."

"Don't say that," you chuckle, "You'll inflate my ego."

"What? It's just a fact: you have a huge fucking cock." She punctuates her statement with a kiss to your tip, some of your essence sticking to her plump lips.

You cup her cheek, feeling her put weight into your touch. "You're too good to me."

"I can be bad, too." Chuu shoots an exaggerated bite of her lip while pumping your cock with slow but firm strokes. "Pick your poison."

"Chef's choice," you reply.

She playfully rolls her eyes at you before licking a long line on the underside of your shaft.

"Yes sir."

Your tip disappears into her mouth, beginning the challenge of fitting your entire length. Slowly, inch by inch gets enveloped into the wet heat past her lips, taking your head to cloud nine.

You've always loved the way her face looks as she swallows your cock, and she knows this. The way her round eyes look up at you for approval, the way her cheeks bulge with your girth, the way her nostrils flare as she tries not to choke. As she gets stuck a little more than half weight down your length, Chuu grabs your hand and places it on the back of her head, forcing you to push her down.

"You're doing so good, baby," you praise.

Pull her hair into a makeshift ponytail, force her down until her eyes roll into the back of her head. You feel her tongue work against your shaft, trying to push more of you into her throat. She's so willing—even as her neck burns, even as the tears pool atop her eyelid—to destroy herself for you, to let you use her however you see fit. Her love outweighs her need for self-preservation.

Chuu eventually comes up for air, saliva dripping from her lips and coughing like a smoker. She's never looked prettier.

"Are you alright?" you ask.

"Yeah, just—" She doesn't let herself finish, too busy obsessing over your skin to think straight. Her lips kiss anything she couldn't reach the first time around, like leaving any inch of you unworshipped was a cardinal sin. Sweats beads off her forehead, brow furrowed in concentration, and the whole image turns you into a madman.

You utter her name for no other reason than to feel the syllables of her move past your throat.