Minjae watches them for the first time.

I sat alone in my darkened room, the glow of my phone screen the only source of light. It cast long, crooked shadows over the walls, the kind that seemed to writhe and curl like smoke, but I paid them no mind, focused entirely on the portal in my hands, a witness to a theater I had both orchestrated and dreaded.

The live video loaded with a familiar stutter, and there she was—Haeun's face filling the frame, her brows knitted in concentration, fiddling nervously with the buttons.

"He-hey! Can you see me?" she asked, noticing my face popping up on her screen. The video feed wavered, but I nodded in confirmation. She looked so beautiful, even in uncertainty—the dim, warm lighting of her room casting a soft glow on her fair skin, her beautiful eyes wide and sparkling with anticipation and nervous energy.

She moved the camera, the tumbled-down view sweeping over the room as she walked to her table. I saw briefly the clothes lying crumpled on the floor, placing me against what I could only assume to be the nightstand, the intense glow of her lamp threatening to overwhelm the camera.

"Oops," I heard her giggle, and the feed jerked as she turned the light off. “There, this should give you a better view.”

She had a way of making everything seem intentional, even the small, unspoken concessions she made for me. The ache in my chest was unbearable, a confusing mix of gratitude and longing. Her small gestures were my lifeline, and I clung to them with a **** fervor, knowing they were meant to keep me tethered even as the world around us went mad.

She stepped away now, the camera capturing her angelic frame in full. She looked ethereal, dressed only in a set of skimpy black lace lingerie that barely covered her, her shapely legs emphasized by the garters and stockings, the supple curve of her hips forming a tantalizing silhouette in the dim light. The bra, more for aesthetic than support, strained to contain her breasts, her nipples clearly outlined underneath the flimsy fabric.

She stood there, watching me watch her. She bit her lip nervously, but held herself steady, a blush creeping into her cheeks. I wanted to tell her she looked beautiful, to reassure her, to let her know that she was a vision, a goddess made flesh, and in that moment, I felt both unworthy and blessed.

But then his figure stepped into frame, tall and broad-shouldered, his muscles on full display in the flickering light. Jihoon wore only his boxers, and as he drew closer, my eyes were drawn against my will to his impressive length already half-hard, tenting the fabric.

He wrapped his arms around her waist from the back, pulling her close and kissing her bare shoulders, her neck, his eyes fixed on the camera, staring into mine. She struggled to push him away, though she laughed as she did so, a soft, lilting sound that hit me like a dagger in the ribs.

He whispered something in her ear, and she giggled, her cheeks flushing. She tugged at his arms, pouting as he refused to let go. The intimacy of their playfulness, the familiarity of their movements, twisted the knife in my gut even further.

The room around me felt too small, the air too heavy. I was trapped in this space, this liminal existence where I was both intimately involved and an outsider. Every touch, every whisper, every shared look between them was a reminder of what I’d lost and what I was still clinging to.

Finally, she looked back at me, biting her lip as she wordlessly sought my approval to begin the performance, her chest rising and falling with each deepening breath.

They were puppets in my little theater, weren’t they? That’s what I told myself, anyway. And yet, who really was the marionette in this sad, twisted play? Even though it appeared that their movements were under my control, it was I who was truly dancing on strings, my heart tied to hers.

I gave my consent, a single nod of my head, and they began.

She didn't break eye contact with me, not once, as he gently pulled her back with him onto the bed. He sat down on the edge, and she fell into his lap like a ventriloquist's dummy, her back pressing against his chest, his hands moving to take control of her body, one reaching down between her legs, the other caressing her breasts.

Her eyes fluttered but still she held my gaze as he started to explore her intimately, the hand on her breasts kneading them through the thin fabric of her bra, his fingers between her thighs pulling them apart, rubbing against the garters, teasing at the edges of her underwear.

She was flushed, the rosy glow of arousal visible even under the dim light, spreading across her face. She reached back, wrapping her slender arms around his neck, her back arching as she grinded herself into his lap, small moans slipping from her parted lips.

I could no longer see Jihoon's face, I realised. Had Haeun planned this position ahead of time, to spare me from that particular ****? It was an erotic sight, to be sure; I could see every muscle on her body, her armpits twitching as her arms strained to keep her upright, her face obscuring his from the camera, her stomach flexing and twisting with each thrust of her hips against his, down to her thighs spread wide open as he gripped into her soft flesh.

His fingers disappeared under the waistband of her panties, and she could hold it no longer; she wailed, closing her eyes at last, losing herself in his ministrations. He continued to play with her, his fingers making wet noises as he slid them in and out, fucking her with them as she bucked and thrashed.

She was losing control, and so was I. I gripped myself tightly, feeling it throb in my hands, my own arousal aching and ****.

Her moans grew louder and more urgent, her body moving in rhythm with his touch. She was close, teetering on the brink of ecstasy, her body arching, her hips rolling, her breasts heaving with each gasping breath. It was a beautiful dance, one that they performed on a stage only for me.

When she finally came, her body convulsed in a crescendo of pleasure, her voice silenced suddenly as her throat locked up. She was beautiful in that moment, her head thrown back, eyes shut tight, mouth agape in a silent scream. It was a vision I would never forget; the sight of her lost in ecstasy was both a balm to my soul and a torment to my heart.

This was what I wanted to see, and I reveled in it. The love of my life, so thoroughly pleasured, so fully sated, her pleasure transforming into mine. It wasn’t a humiliation or a denial. No, in that moment he was simply a conduit of my love to her, and I was grateful for his existence.

I watched him as his fingers slowed, though never completely stopping, her juices beginning to soak through the fabric. She trembled against him, panting hard, her body still shuddering as he coaxed every last bit of pleasure from her, a sheen of sweat glistening on her skin.

And then her eyes opened, finding mine again, and I knew in that instant that she was still there with me, sharing an unspoken connection that only we could understand. She smiled, and I found myself smiling back, even if she could not see me clearly through the screen, placed so close yet so far away.

Then Jihoon withdrew his fingers, the wetness coating them glinting in the dim light as he moved them to her mouth. She did not hesitate, suckling on them obediently, her tongue swirling to clean her own fluids from him, her eyes never once leaving the camera, never once breaking away from me. He pushed them in further, his thumb digging into her jaw, and I could see the bulge of his knuckles moving under her cheek. But still she did not break eye contact with me, her gaze intense, passionate, almost defiant, as if she wanted me to fully understand the depths of what she was capable of.

He stood them up, free hand tugging at her panties, pulling them only to mid-thigh before he focused on his own underwear instead. His erection sprung free at last, bouncing hard as it emerged between her legs, the meaty pole slapping wetly against her slit. Her hands were still around his neck, his fingers hooked into her cheek, powerless to resist him or even push him away. But I saw the anticipation glinting in her eyes, the hunger barely restrained, a silent admission that she wanted what was about to come just as much as me.

He began thrusting his hips, his length rubbing against her pussy, the shaft coated in more of her fluids with every stroke. She moaned softly, biting down on his fingers, and he hissed in pain. He slapped the front of her thigh, the crack of flesh on flesh echoing around the room, a red mark blooming on her pale skin.

I nearly jumped to my feet, the instinct to rush to her aid as sudden and powerful as lightning. It took every ounce of my willpower to remain still, reminding myself that she could speak for herself, that we had agreed beforehand that I was not to interfere unless she asked for it.

"You want this, don't you?" he spoke finally, the sound of his voice sending a jolt through me. "Want my cock in you? Like you are used to, hmm?"

"Shtop thalking," she hissed, though she could not pronounce her words clearly with her mouth occupied.

"But he likes it when you talk," Jihoon replied. He pulled his fingers out from her mouth, dragging a trail of spit with them, wiping them on her thighs before reaching back around to cup her breasts once more. His hands moved expertly, pulling at the bra so it slid down, revealing and pushing up her tits. Her nipple were hard, standing at stiff attention as he began pinching and twisting them.

She moaned, throwing her head back, teeth clenched in a mix of pleasure and pain.

"You like this too, don’t you?" he teased, whispering into her ear. "Tell him how good I'm making you feel."

"I told you to keep quiet," she insisted, her voice cracking, but I saw her thighs spreading wider, giving him better access, and he took full advantage.

He moved his hands to her hips now, pulling his hips back so the tip of his cock angled up slightly, pressing into and spreading her lips.

"Let's see how long you can keep your silence then," he said.

Then he slammed forward, with such strength and ferocity that it lifted Haeun from her feet momentarily, a scream tearing from her throat as he impaled her on his entire length, his girth stretching her wide. The sound pierced my heart, a primal cry that broke through my lustful haze, sobering me up in an instant.

"Stop! You're hurting her!" I yelled in a wild panic.

But he didn’t stop, of course, his hands gripping into her flesh so hard I could see his knuckles whitening. He was not going to relent; his hips started to piston, thrusting into her with relentless ****, Haeun alternating the feet she stood on with each stroke as she was lifted up. She writhed and thrashed, her back arching sharply, a string of incoherent sounds spilling from her mouth. And yet through it all, her arms remained firmly locked together, gripping tightly onto the back of his neck even as she surrendered to his onslaught.

"Did you hear me?" I demanded again. "Stop right now or I swear to god-"

"Shut up," he taunted. "You hear her asking me to stop?"

I looked at Haeun, **** for a sign, a cue, anything to let me know that he hadn't crossed a line. But she did not seem to hear us, so lost she was in the moment, her body reacting instinctively, hips shuddering as he continued to pound into her. I saw tears in her eyes, but the expression of her face was no longer of pain; there was a fierce pleasure in them, a hunger that was being sated. The room was filled with the sound of their lovemaking—the wet slap of skin against skin, his grunts, and the garbled, animalistic noises coming out of her mouth.

I fell silent, my heart pounding in my chest. Was this really what she wanted? Was this the kind of rough, intense sex she came to expect from him? I stared, unable to look away, watching as Jihoon fucked her with a primal savagery.

Haeun's moans grew louder, echoing off the walls, her body tensing up as he drove himself into her again and again. How did he have the stamina to keep this pace up?

She looked so small in his grasp, but still she clung onto him desperately. The contrast of her slender frame against his muscular one, the sight of her being utterly dominated by him, it all seemed to add to the intensity of their coupling, heightening both their pleasure and mine.

Then I saw it—the subtle tremors that started deep within her core, the way her body began to quiver with an anticipation that she could not hide. Her cries became more urgent, her hips bucked more wildly, and I knew, as surely as if I were there myself, that she was on the verge of another orgasm.

As she climaxed, he did not slow, did not stop. He held onto her even tighter, his own groans of pleasure mixing with hers as he fucked her relentlessly. I watched, enraptured, as he pushed her through the waves of ecstasy, her body shaking uncontrollably, her mouth open in a silent scream. His movements were becoming more erratic, his own release approaching fast.

Then, with a growl like thunder, he buried himself deep within her, erupting with a **** that rocked them both to the core. His balls contracted, and I could only imagine his seed filling every inch of her being, pumping wave after wave of his hot essence into her womb. She cried out once more, her voice hoarse and raw, and he held her still, locked against his hips. I could see him panting heavily, his arms still gripping her tightly.

He remained there for a while longer before finally pulling back, slipping himself out of her with an audible squelch. She held herself up stubbornly by her arms around his neck still, and I was given a perfect view of the white liquid beginning to ooze from her gaping cunt, dripping onto the floor below.

He reached around her, using his fingers to scoop some up and pushed it back into her, as if wanting to seal his essence deep within. Then he slapped her thigh again, leaving another mark on her skin, before finally pulling her panties back up, his cum trapped inside her.

At long last, her arms fell to her side, and she stumbled towards me, her face filling my screen as she leaned against the desk for support.

"Are you ok?" I asked, my voice soft but urgent. "Did he hurt you?"

She smiled weakly, nodding. "I'm fine, Joonie" she whispered. "He was just being a jerk."

Jihoon chuckled behind her. He got up now and walked out of the camera, and I could hear the sound of the door opening and closing behind him. She glanced over her shoulder and then turned her attention back to the camera, her face still flushed, a little of her usual energy returning.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, reaching out to caress the camera, her touch sending a strange warmth through me. "That was... more intense than I hoped for."

"It's okay, Haeun, I understand," I assured her, even as I struggled to process what I have just witnessed.

She nodded, smiling. "I know," she said simply. "You always do."