Theatrics

Enjoy.

This was quite possibly the dumbest idea you’ve ever agreed to.

You’ve been staring at mahogany for the past three minutes, fidgeting with the box of air that you call the pizza box in your hand and tugging at the collar of your shirt.

It’s a door. Your door. The one that came with the house you bought. Leading to your home. To your wife. Your Chaeryeong, your Chaery, the love of your life who just so happens to be at the other end of it, waiting for you to knock. You’ve done the action of opening it, closing it, locking it, so on and so forth so many times and yet, knocking is what throws you off.

Seriously, why bother knocking when you own the damn place, but here you are. Forced to knock for the sake of satisfying her curiosity.

And you’ll do anything for your wife.

Even at the cost of your dignity.

You sigh, your hand knocking on the wood. One, two—

“You sure took your time getting here.” The door opens to reveal your wife, dressed in a camisole that you knew was a size smaller and a pair of shorts that showed off those thighs you simply adored. She leans against the doorframe, hair over one shoulder and her lips curled in a smirk.

“Hi. I-uh, yo-your-uh,” you cough, swallow, avoid contact for a second before looking straight back at her, avoiding looking anywhere near down. Trying to get into character, as she so eloquently told you earlier. “Your pizza’s here. It’s uh, it’s fifteen bucks in total–”

“Oh no!” she gasps like the drama queen she’s trying to be. “I forgot to get my wallet!”

“I can wait here–”

“You should come in, please.” Her finger starts tapping her chin before slipping between her teeth, a grin spreading across her face.

“And it’s late too!” she adds, her hand clutching your arms. “It’s dangerous to drive back all alone, and you must be so tired from driving so far out just for me.”

It was two in the afternoon. And you live here.

She’s enjoying this way too much.

“Just, you know, doing my job,” you chuckle meekly, clutching the empty cardboard in your hands like some teenager on his first job. “All you need to do is–”

“Let this big, strong pizza delivery boy come inside,” she finishes for you, giving your arms a squeeze before taking the pizza box from your hands, making sure to brush her fingers against yours, and stepping to the side, grin still on her face with a little bite of her lip to ‘sell’ the entire thing. “ I insist.”

You do an awkward shuffle, lips fighting back against the grin that threatens to betray the show you two are performing.

“I-I wouldn’t want to-uhm, intrude so late in the night.”

Her laugh gets you. You don’t know if it’s for keeping the act up or because she genuinely finds you hilarious doing this whole shtick with her. She puts a hand on her cheek, tilting her head like she’s swooning at how adorably stupid you must look right now.

“It’s no problem. Gotta pay for the food anyway,” she teases, a giggle managing to escape from her lips. “Maybe even a nice, thick tip for being so brave delivering pizzas.”

Yeah, definitely too much.

Before you can ‘think’ of another excuse, you’ve been pulled inside to your living room. The same place where you two have Friday movie nights, the same place where you had pepperoni pizza for lunch, and the same place where this entire idea was born out of boredom.

“Sorry for the mess.” She goes ahead and places the empty box down on the coffee table, pushing some empty glasses and plates to the side. “I had some friends earlier and forgot to clean up.”

You can’t tell if that was a jab at you or not.

She makes sure to bend over right there in front of you, giving you a free view of her ass. The very ass that you’ve buried your face into countless times while her thighs wraps around your head.

She takes her time straightening up, giving a little twirl to face you and stretches her arms above her head, that camisole riding up to show her midriff, her breasts straining the top. She adds an over the top moan that was totally unnecessary and places her hands behind her back to give a little (a lot) more emphasis to her chest before walking up to you.

Now, your wife is hot—that’s simply facts. Years of sleeping next to her and with her has made you memorize every single inch of her body as if it was the back of your hand. You’ve seen her in the skimpiest clothing and had the pleasure of peeling it off her one by one. Especially stockings off of her thighs.

That fucks you up more than anything.

But somehow, the casual fit she has on is frying your brain. The hints of skin showing underneath the top, her chest making the fabric rise for god’s sake, those damn shorts that accentuate the curve of her ass and showing off the pillows you call her thighs—you’ve slept on them before—and it is unfair how she looks better in this than most of the things she’s worn.

Maybe this is a good idea after all.

“How much do I owe you again?” She leans forward, the neckline of her top dipping, her cleavage in full view. Combine that with the smell of musky vanilla and you are hooked.

God what the fuck—

“F-fifteen for the pizza,” you answer, not hiding the fact that you’re staring at her tits anymore.

She’s leering, eyeing you up and down before easing back and smiling with mock innocence. “Okay!”

She slips past you, making sure to get really close, chest almost smothering your arm and her fingers brushing against yours as she gets to the kitchen counter to get your ‘payment’. You don’t really know if she’ll actually give you cash since your eyes are glued to the sway of her hips, the jiggle of her thighs, the–

“Payment for the manly delivery boy.” She hands you tissue paper. Four, to be exact. You can’t help but let stare at them for a moment before letting a sigh out of your lips. Really?

“With a little extra. Think I can get your tip next?”

Alright, now she’s laying it on a bit too thick. But this was getting a bit too entertaining to put a stop to.

“My boss will kill me if I don’t get back–”

“You shouldn’t leave! It’s so late and it started raining!”

The skies were clear, you’re pretty sure you heard birds chirping outside before you came in, and she’s undeniably bullshitting.

“Damn, it did start raining.” You play along, looking annoyed at the ‘rain’ that was pouring over the windows. “I guess I should stay here for now then.”

“You definitely should,” she nods, very enthusiastic about it all. A grin featured on her face, her eyebrows are wagging, and she’s bouncing on her toes. “Let me show you where you’ll be sleeping.”

“I think the couch is good enough for me,” you say, giving her a sheepish smile. Still ‘in character’ even if you’ve wanted to drop the act since you knocked on your door.

Chaeryeong doesn’t care. Or at least, she can’t be asked to since she’s pretty adamant on getting you in bed rather than the couch. She gives you another half-assed excuse (something about hospitality) to get you to the bedroom, hands grabbing your wrists, tugging you gently towards your room with a grin on her face.

“I’d be such a bad hostess if I let you sleep on the couch,” she says, taking you upstairs.

Admittedly, the couch was comfortable enough to sleep on. It survived worse. Such as when you and her fuck on it.

It’s only when you hear the creaking of a door opening that you realize that she’s brought you to your bedroom. “After such a long, hard drive you should be sleeping on the bed–”