CHAPTER 212: CHAPTER 212: COMPETITION

Night pressed tight against the windows, the city’s neon bleeding in blue and gold across the floorboards of Joon-ho’s apartment. Inside, every shadow felt alive, every inch of air dense with a hunger that had been simmering for weeks. Mirae and Harin still wore their sleepwear—barely-there slips, lace clinging to curves, hair mussed from laughter and wine. Joon-ho was down to his boxers, skin still warm from the shower, pulse already drumming loud in his ears.

They’d laughed and teased and sparred through half a bottle of red, but the smiles had sharpened, and every glance felt like a challenge. Mirae was sprawled across his lap, her bare thighs spread, head tipped back so her long hair spilled over his arm. Harin lounged at his side, cool and regal, eyes glittering with intent. Neither was ready to back down. Not now.

Mirae made the first move—she always did. Her hand slid under the blanket, fingers curling around the thick line of his cock through the fabric. She grinned when he jumped, squeezing just enough to make him bite back a groan. "He’s already so hard," she purred, glancing at Harin, daring her to compete. "Maybe he’s been waiting for someone to take charge."

Harin arched an eyebrow, not missing a beat. She leaned in, her lips ghosting along Joon-ho’s jaw as her hand slipped inside his waistband, skin on skin. "Funny, I always thought you’d want someone who knows what they’re doing, Mirae." Her palm wrapped around him, stroking slow and possessive.

Joon-ho hissed, caught in a double assault—Mirae’s quick, hungry grip and Harin’s slow, controlling squeeze. The girls’ hands tangled over his cock, fingers brushing, competing, refusing to give ground. He could barely breathe, the rush of touch and scent and rivalry overwhelming.

Mirae shifted, crawling off his lap only to drop to her knees between his thighs. She pulled his boxers down in one smooth movement, freeing him, and licked a stripe up his length, looking up with wicked, challenging eyes. "Let’s see who can make him lose control first."

Harin didn’t let her steal the show. She pressed in from the side, lips finding his for a bruising kiss, her free hand slipping under his shirt to pinch his nipple, just hard enough to make him gasp. "Don’t disappoint, Mirae. I’d hate for you to embarrass yourself."

Mirae snorted, then sucked Joon-ho’s cock into her mouth, cheeks hollowing, tongue working the head with expert precision. She moaned around him, knowing exactly how it would vibrate through his body. Harin, not to be outdone, pressed kisses down his chest, then pulled Mirae back by her hair, not gently. "Move. My turn."

Joon-ho’s eyes rolled back as Harin took him in her mouth—deeper, slower, claiming every inch. She kept her eyes on Mirae, challenging her with every stroke, never letting up. Mirae, undeterred, ducked lower, licking and kissing along his balls, using her hands to stroke whatever Harin couldn’t reach.

The room filled with wet sounds, broken groans, the sharp slap of competition and arousal. Each woman pushed harder—Mirae bobbing faster, Harin holding deep, tongue pressed flat along his length. They made eye contact over his cock, both refusing to be the one to stop.

Joon-ho’s hands threaded through their hair, unable to choose, unable to last. He throbbed between them, muscles shaking, torn between surrender and dominance.

Mirae was the first to push it further. She climbed back onto the couch, straddling his lap, grabbing his cock and sliding it between her slick folds, not quite taking him inside, just rubbing herself against him, leaving him soaked. "He’s desperate, Harin. You’re not doing enough."

Harin stood, peeled off her slip, and straddled his lap facing Mirae. She sank down onto his cock in one smooth, relentless motion, eyes locked on Mirae’s as she started to ride him—slow at first, then faster, taking him deep. Mirae leaned in, kissing Harin hard, tongues tangling as they both ground against Joon-ho, making him groan loud enough to echo.

The girls found their rhythm—not together, but violently, selfishly against each other. Every motion was a challenge. Every sound a provocation.

Mirae slid her lips along Harin’s neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks she knew Harin wouldn’t let fade. Then she bit—sharp, claiming, taunting. Harin gasped and retaliated by clawing down Joon-ho’s shoulders, riding him harder, slamming down onto his cock with a force that made him choke out a broken groan.

Mirae watched the movement, jealousy and lust twisting together, and lost her patience.

"No," she breathed, yanking Harin’s hips upward, jerking her off his cock. Harin stumbled forward with a hiss, and Mirae shoved her aside just enough to take her place. In the same breath, Mirae lowered herself fast—sinking down on him in one slick, desperate drop, her whole body shuddering.

Her moan echoed off the walls, high and breathless. "Fuck—yes—" She braced herself against his chest, palms spread wide, pushing him flat into the couch as she started riding him like she needed it to live. Her movements wild, unrestrained—her ass slapping against his thighs, hair flying with every thrust.

Harin refused to surrender an inch.

She climbed onto the armrest beside them, kneeling close, the muscles in her thighs flexing as she leaned over. She grabbed a handful of Joon-ho’s hair, tilting his head back before shoving her breast against his mouth.

"Bite," she ordered, voice trembling, not from fear—pure hunger.

He obeyed, mouth closing around her nipple, sucking hard, teeth grazing. Harin’s moan was low and broken, her fingers twisting in his hair.

"Don’t give her all your attention," she gasped, glaring at Mirae with a wicked, breathless fury. "She doesn’t know how to keep you satisfied."

Mirae laughed, breath fractured, still bouncing on his cock. "He seems pretty satisfied right now."

Joon-ho groaned helplessly, caught between the taste of Harin’s skin and the scorching heat of Mirae’s cunt gripping him tight, milking him with every brutal drop of her hips. He thrust up into her reflexively, chasing her rhythm, making her whine and stutter.

The rivalry snapped from playful into primal.

Mirae ground down on him harder, tipping forward to kiss him—sloppy, hungry, tongue pushing into his mouth. Harin shoved her aside and kissed him next, claiming his lips like she was reclaiming territory.

Joon-ho’s restraint vanished.

He grabbed Mirae’s wrists, flipped her onto her back in one fluid, overpowering movement, pinning her arms above her head. Mirae gasped, thighs flying open as he drove into her—harder than before, hips slamming against the backs of her thighs.

"Yes—yes—don’t stop—" she cried, legs locking around him, dragging him deeper.

Harin dropped to her knees between Mirae’s spread legs. She grabbed Mirae’s thighs, pushing them wider still, her breath ghosting over the slick mess between them. When Joon-ho pulled back slightly, Harin leaned forward and licked—slow and deliberate—up the length of his cock as it slid out of Mirae, tasting both of them.

Mirae’s cry cracked. "Unnie—shit—!"

Harin didn’t stop. She kissed Mirae, messy and open-mouthed, sharing the taste. Then she grabbed Joon-ho’s jaw and kissed him too, moaning into his mouth.

He growled.

He dragged Harin onto all fours, pulling Mirae to the side and slamming into Harin from behind. The sound of his hips hitting her ass was obscene, sharp and loud. Harin arched so beautifully he nearly lost control, her voice breaking with every thrust.

Mirae crawled forward, licking up the sweat on Joon-ho’s stomach before dropping lower. She sucked his balls into her mouth, tongue flicking against sensitive skin, her other hand rubbing her clit furiously as she watched him fuck Harin like he owned her.

The room was chaos—moans, claws, sweat, wet sounds echoing off every surface.

Harin slammed back against him, desperate, trying to force him deeper, harder. Mirae pressed her thigh between his legs, grinding on his skin, whining his name with every breath. They fought for him even as pleasure tore through them—pulling, pushing, claiming, arching.

"Look at me," Harin gasped, hair sticking to her cheek. "Look at me when you—ah—when you fuck—"

"No," Mirae panted, reaching for him, nails dragging down his side. "Look at me—look at how I want you—"

He looked at neither—too close to the edge, too overwhelmed to choose, thrusting blindly into heat and hunger.

He felt it build—sharp and violent and impossible to hold back.

He grabbed both girls by the hair, pulling them close, forcing them onto their knees side by side. Their breathing synced, both panting, both hungry, both glaring at each other even now.

He stroked himself between their faces—Mirae licking along his shaft, Harin sucking the head, their lips brushing past each other in the frenzy to claim him.

He couldn’t last—not like this.

His orgasm ripped through him, a raw, guttural sound tearing from his chest as he spilled across their tongues, their lips, their eager mouths. Both swallowed, both moaning, both trying to take more than the other.

Mirae sucked him clean first—fast and greedy.

Harin caught the last drop, licking it from the corner of his mouth before kissing him, tasting all of him lingering on her tongue.

They collapsed against him, shaking, sweat cooling on flushed skin. Mirae curled into his left side, thigh slung over his hips, cheek pressed to his chest. Harin curled into his right, nails dragging lazy, possessive circles on his shoulder.

All rivalry melted into exhaustion—breathless, spent, satisfied.

But even as they settled against him, bodies slick and trembling, Mirae cracked an exhausted grin against his skin.

"Round two... I’m winning."

Harin smirked into his neck. "Keep dreaming."

And Joon-ho, pinned between them.

The rivalry faded into a warm, exhausted silence, sweat cooling on their skin. Joon-ho wrapped his arms around both, pressing kisses to their foreheads, letting his breath slow.

For a while, there was no need to talk—no games, no fighting, just three bodies tangled together, undone.

But even as Mirae drifted off to sleep, fingers splayed across his abs, and Harin murmured her plans for tomorrow against his neck, Joon-ho could feel the spark still burning, rivalry just waiting to flare again.

He grinned into the dark, content and utterly spent, knowing this was only the beginning.