Joon-ho sprawled on the sofa, sweat cooling on his skin, cock still thick and glistening, a monument to everything filthy and excessive that had just unfolded. Min-Kyung and Alina knelt before him, bodies messy—slick with cum, flushed, their hair tangled and faces streaked from the storm he'd unleashed inside them. Min-Kyung trembled, her legs barely holding her, but she still crawled closer, hungry for every scrap of attention. Alina's hands were cuffed behind her back, the metal biting red lines into her wrists; she leaned in too, eyes wide and wild, nipples swollen and sore, mouth glistening.
