Lips #9 (Somi)

Somi leans against the kitchen counter, her phone in one hand, idly scrolling through messages. Her mind isn’t really on the screen. It’s on you. She saw the look on your face earlier, the quiet slump in your shoulders when you told her about the breakup. No jokes or sarcastic comments from you this time. That wasn’t you, and it bothers her more than she thought it would. You are her friend, maybe her best friend, and seeing you like this feels wrong. She wants to fix it. But what can she do? Buy you food? Drag you out for drinks? Crack stupid jokes until you smile again? None of that seems enough.

Somi sighs, pushing a strand of hair out of her face. She knows the problem isn’t just that your girlfriend left. It’s that you’ve lost that feeling of being wanted. And if she could give you that feeling back, even for one night, maybe you’d stop looking so defeated. Her thumb hovers over her phone’s keyboard as she debates texting you to come over. Or maybe she should just show up at your place unannounced. Whatever she does, she wants to make sure you leave feeling better than you have all week.

Somi doesn’t give herself the chance to overthink it. She grabs her jacket, shoves her phone into her pocket, and heads for the door.

When you open your door, you look exactly like she imagined. Your hair a little messy, hoodie thrown on, eyes tired. You still try to give her a small smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

“Hey.”

She says softly, stepping inside without waiting for an invite. Now that she’s here Somi isn’t sure what to say exactly to cheer you up. She walks past you into the living room, dropping onto the couch. You sit down beside her, leaning back, and she can feel the weight of your mood without you saying a word. For a few minutes, you just sit there, the muted TV casting light over the room. She nudges your shoulder.

“You know I hate seeing you like this.”

Somi turns her head towards you.

You give her half a smile.

“I’ll get over it.”

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t have to do it alone.”

She replies, her voice a little softer now.

“So… what if I helped you feel better?”

You turned to look at her.

“What do you mean?”

Somi hesitates for just a second, then leans a little closer.

“I mean… I don’t love you or anything, but… you’re my friend. And if what you need right now is to feel wanted again… maybe I can do something about that.”

You stare at her for a second, unsure if you’d heard her right.

“Somi…”

She holds your gaze, her expression calm but serious.

“I’m serious. Just… let me help, okay? No strings attached. Just you feeling good for a while.”

Your heartbeat picks up, and you can see the faintest smirk tug at her lips as she reaches out, her hand resting lightly on your thigh.

“If you don’t want me to, say so now.”

You don’t.

Somi leans in closer, her perfume brushing against your senses, warm and sweet. Her fingers slide a little higher as she gives you a knowing look.

“Alright.”

She murmurs, moving to kneel between your legs on the couch. You watch her push her hair behind her ears, her eyes never leaving yours as her hands rest on your knees. There is no rush in her movements. She is doing this to make sure you feel every bit of her attention. When her fingers trail over the waistband of your sweats, she glances up at you with a playful glint.

“You trust me, right?”

You swallow and nod.

Somi’s smirk widens slightly before she tugs them down. She takes her time, as if the act itself is meant to remind you that you matter, that someone wants you here and now. Somi’s hands are warm against your skin. She wants you to feel every second of it. Her eyes stay locked on yours as she frees you from your sweats, her fingers curling around you with a slow, reassuring grip.

“Mm…”

She hums softly, almost to herself, as her thumb brushes over your tip.

“That’s better already.”

You let out a quiet breath. The comfort in her touch is almost as powerful as the pleasure. She leans forward, pressing a soft kiss against your shaft before parting her lips and taking you in, inch by inch, her tongue warm and slick on you. At first, her movements are slow like she wants to draw out every bit of tension you’ve been holding since the breakup. She keeps one hand on your thigh, rubbing small circles with her thumb while her lips glide up and down in a steady rhythm. When you let out a low groan, she pulls back just enough to smile up at you.

“That’s more like it.”

Somi teases, her voice warm but with a spark of mischief. She goes back down on you, this time with more intent, her pace quickening, her head bobbing smoothly while her tongue swirls around your tip at the top of each stroke. The comfort she started with is still there, but now it is layered with a growing hunger, her cheeks hollowing as she takes you deeper. You reach down without thinking, your fingers brushing her hair back. She doesn’t slow down. If anything, she takes you further, her throat relaxing as she swallows around you. The wet heat of her mouth, the soft sounds she makes, and the way her eyes flicker up to meet yours every so often all crash together into something that makes your chest tighten and your hips twitch forward.

At first, Somi’s mind was on you. On making sure you feel wanted again, on proving that someone still sees you as worth touching, worth tasting. She told herself that was all this was. A favor. A friend stepping in when you need it. But somewhere between the steady slide of her lips and the warmth of your hand brushing her hair back, something inside her shifts. She feels it in the way her thighs press together, in the faint ache starting low in her stomach. Her original intent, to comfort you, is blurring into something hotter. She realizes she is taking you deeper now, not just because it feels good for you, but because she wants it. Each muffled sound you make, each twitch of your hips, is feeding a hunger she hasn’t expected.

Her fingers grip your thigh tighter, nails just faintly pressing into your skin as her pace picks up. She is breathing faster through her nose, her eyes half-lidded, and the comforting rhythm she started with is gone. It’s replaced by something that makes her jaw work harder. In the back of her mind, she knows she should slow down, keep it about you. But right now, with the heat pooling between her own legs, she doesn’t want to.

You feel it. At first, her touch was almost motherly. Warm, patient, careful. But now there is a new edge to it, a kind of greed you didn’t expect from Somi. The way her lips tighten, the way her tongue swirls faster, the way her eyes don’t just check on you anymore but watch you. Like she wants to see you lose it for her. She isn’t just doing this out of pity anymore. She wants you. The thought sends a rush through you, making your hips shift forward, urging her to take more. She doesn’t resist. In fact, she leans into it, taking you deeper, her hand sliding to your base to stroke in sync with her mouth. Your breath becomes heavier, your thighs tensing. “Somi…”

You manage between sharp inhales.

“I’m… close.”

She slows just enough to lift her head slightly, her lips still wrapped around you, her hand pumping you as she looks up. Her voice comes out husky, almost challenging.

“Mm… where do you want it?”

The question hits you harder than you expected, your mind flashing through images of her lips, her tongue, her skin. She keeps her eyes on you, waiting for your answer, her hand never stopping its rhythm. Your chest tightens, and you swallow hard.

“Your face.”

You barely whisper.

For a second, her lips curl into a small, wicked smile. Then she lets you slip from her mouth, her hand still stroking you in long, slick pulls as she sits back on her knees between your legs. She tilts her chin up slightly, eyes locked on yours.

“Give it to me.”

The sight of her waiting for you, hair a little messy from your fingers, lips swollen and wet, eyes half-lidded…

Your hips jerk forward and a sharp groan leaves your mouth. The first hot streak lands across her cheek, the next on her lips. She doesn’t flinch. She keeps her gaze on you, letting it hit her skin, even parting her mouth slightly as the last few spurts run down her face.