Therapy – Min/Bree (POV) – NSFW

by asynca


READER DISCRETION STRONGLY ADVISED – MATURE CONTENT


 

Okay, I will just say right upfront that Min is normally really gentle and, like, most of the time that’s what I want. She’s so soft with me. Every time she touches me there’s always feeling in it, and it’s just nice, you know? It’s nice to be able to feel how much someone cares for you even when they’re doing something really small like tucking in the tag on your t-shirt.

So, uh…

It’s nice most of the time. Sometimes it gets a bit boring, especially when I feel like messing around with her. She can’t switch that whole Bree-is-a-delicate-flower thing off. Like, this one time she was going down on me and I’m like, ‘harder’, and she’s like, ‘I am doing it harder’ and I’m like, ‘uh, maybe it we’re measuring in pressure by grams but like when I say harder I mean like actually do it like seriously harder…’

And I don’t want to say this to her because it’s a bit mean, but that kind of stuff makes it so obvious she spent like years and years with Henry. Because even though she has a full suite of actual emotions now – not just ‘miserable’ and ‘stressed out’ – she still doesn’t actually let herself feel everything. Maybe the ‘good’ emotions like happiness or contentment or whatever, but she’s still really weird about expressing anger just like Henry is and she’s a bit weird about wanting sex, too. She never asks for it or tries to hit on me or anything even when I can tell she wants it. And since she says that Henry does exactly the same thing, he must have rubbed off on her a bit. I honestly think some part of her is subconsciously trying to be the kind of man Henry is, but she’s not and she shouldn’t try to be.

One thing that’s different about them, for example, is that Henry’s nice but there’s kind of nothing really sexy about him. Min can be so fucking sexy. Especially when she flirts. Just that quiet, low voice of hers saying something really suggestive is like… whoa, yeah, it gives me the shivers. She could melt me when she’s like that. The trouble is that when she does it I’m just like omg fucking take me already, but she’ll only stay confident and sexy up to kissing and as soon as we go further than that, she gets a bit timid like she thinks she’s going to hurt me. All that bravado falls away and it’s all, ‘how does that feel?’ and ‘is this okay?’ and yeah, hello Henry, way to kill my boner…

So, anyway, Min’s off in Broome now doing this big project for some old guy who runs a cafe up there. She Skypes me every night while I’m doing schoolwork and she’s painting, and tonight she’s kind of a bit… I don’t know. She’s not holding a conversation that well like she’s kind of distracted.

I stop wrestling with Excel and tab back to Skype. “Hey… are you okay?” I ask, interrupting her.

There’s like this minuscule pause before she goes, “Yeah, of course.”

She’s full of it. “No, you’re not. What’s up?”

She laughs nervously, and then she spends like at least ten seconds floundering with whatever she wants to say and then it’s just really vague and cryptic like, “I just miss you right now, that’s all. I feel like some company…”

Oh. Oh. That’s why she’s distracted… That kind of vague statement is about as close as Min ever gets to saying I’m really horny and I need you to do me right now.

I totally know where this is going, and it makes this huge smile grow across my face. I kind of wish we were video Skyping. Like you miss me right now especially…?”

Another pause. She sounds tense. “Yeah, you could say that.”

Hah, that’s the hottest idea. Imagining Min all flustered and horny and not able to concentrate because of it. Anyone else would probably just take a break from painting and masturbate, but that makes Min really dysphoric so she never does it. She doesn’t want to have anything to do with anything below her belt, but she’s fine with me having everything to do with it, and that gives me all this power. It’s fun. Like right now. The idea of her desperately needing me to be there so she can work it all off on me is hot.

I’m sure I sound smug. “What are you thinking about, Min?” I know what the answer is.

There’s… something in her voice. She tries to disguise it. “Calculus. Definitely calculus.”
I snort. She’s an idiot. “Well, instead of imagining me blowing you on a train in my school uniform, you could do my calculus homework. You can get off and get me an A on this stupid assignment.”

She chokes on whatever she’d been taking a sip of. Probably Red Bull. “I don’t always imagine that!”

“Well, what are you imagining right now, then?”

She takes a moment to think about it. “I want to get you off.”

I grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. How would would you…” She rephrases. “I already told you what I imagine about us. If you could have me do anything for you, what would it be?”

I actually had to think a bit about that: how would I have it with her if I could design, like, perfect sex?

So, yeah, I remember there was this one night I was just lying in a star shape on her mattress trying to avoid studying for a test by staring at the ceiling. Min, like, burst in through the front door, came storming down the hallway and into the bedroom and dumped her stuff in a pile by the doorway.

I sat up on the bed, like what the fuck? “Are you okay? What happened?”

You could almost physically see her shoving her emotions into a bottle and trying to force the lid on. “Nothing,” she lied as she took a steadying breath, “I just had an accident near the Coles, that’s all.”

That didn’t sound like nothing. Actually, it sounds really stressful, and stress really gets to Min. I pushed myself up off the bed and went to make sure she wasn’t hurt, or upset, or really shaken. “I’m serious, Min, are you okay? Want me to get the icepack or something? What happened?”

She shook her head tightly and sat down at the computer. “It doesn’t matter. I have a heap of commissions to finish tonight or I’m not going to be able to afford the fucking excess on my insurance tomorrow. Fucking $750. Why the fuck didn’t I think to switch that down when I left Frost? I’m an idiot.

When I went to give her a cuddle she stiffened like a board, so I went and sat back on the mattress. I just kind of quietly watched her and worried about her while I tried to decide what I could do to help her and make her feel better. She was obviously, like, physically okay, but I could see the reflection of her face in her monitor. If she kept clenching her jaw that tight she was going to snap her teeth off or something…

Anyway, her painting wasn’t working as well that night as it normally did – probably because of how tense she was – and pretty soon she got really fed up and threw her stylus across the room, made this angry growling noise and pushed her chair away from the computer, taking a measured breath. “Fuck!”

She was, like, osmoting anger. There was all this energy. The whole room as kind of full of her, and at any point I thought she might stand up and just lose it.

And, uh, so like this is totally inappropriate because she was really stressed out and I was worried about her, but, uh…

It was kind of really fucking hot. You have to understand that Min is normally, like, you can’t read her at all. In any sense. She’s like the definition of ambiguity, and unless she tells you how she’s feeling…

But now, it was all out there. She was so angry, and fiery, and, like burning with rage. So even though I was upset she felt bad, I wanted her to explode and then I wanted her to throw stuff around and lose it, and then I wanted her to come and fuck me. Like, properly. I wanted her to nail me, and I wanted her to use the harder packer that had that rod-thing inside it so she’d come from it, too. Actually, fuck that, I wanted her to not even care about the ‘too’, I wanted her to do it for herself because of how angry she was and how much she needed it. Yeah, that was what I wanted.

So, um. Naturally I didn’t actually hit on her right then, because she was was upset about her car and she did actually need to get those painting commissions things done. I just went to make her something nice to eat while she was working, and spent the whole time, um, not leaning against the bench and masturbating in Sarah’s kitchen while the rice was cooking because that’s so fucked up and Sarah would never let me forget it so it definitely never happened…

Boy, did I think about that night a lot, though. Angry Min. Yeah. All that fire. It’s the hottest fucking thing, I swear.

So, yeah. If I was designing hot sex with Min, that’s what it would be for me.

I tune back to earth and look at my notebook screen. It’s been silent. She’s been patiently waiting for me to reply. “So, uh,” I begin, “don’t take this personally, but I know what I want.”

She sounds stricken by how I phrase that. “Is it something I can’t give you?”

Not really. “Only if you don’t let yourself.”

“’Only if I don’t let myself’?” she repeats, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Well…” I think about that. “You want me to, like, describe what I think the hottest thing ever would be? Because I can totally see it.”

She sounds hesitant, like she’s a bit afraid of what I’m going to want. “Okay…”

So, yeah, I start to describe to her what I imagine it would be like and what I imaging Min doing to me.

Anyway, it would start like… maybe five or six o’clock at night and Min’s due to come home from work any minute. Because I know that, I’ve changed into a nice clean dress and I’ve put a really nice classic apron on – you know, the ones with the frills – and I’ve just finished heating up her favourite dinner so it’s all ready for her when she gets home.

Just like she did that night with the car accident, she bursts through the door in her suit, looking furious. The whole kitchen is filled with her, suddenly.

“I am going to kill my client!” she announces, loosening her tie and dumping her briefcase. She’s furious at him. She’s pacing. She’s shaking her head. “He doesn’t respect me,” she says, “he takes me for granted. He changes his fucking mind constantly…”

She takes up so much space when she’s angry. She’s so tall and long. She moves around, waving her arms as she talks… there so much fire in it, it’s hot. “I’m just so fucking angry at him…”

It’s like she hasn’t even realised I’m there until that point, and then she lays her eyes on me like she’s just discovered she’s not alone.

I bet I look appealing. For some bizarre reason Min likes it when I dress modestly so I’m wearing a high-necked dress that comes down to my knees, and my hair’s all done nicely and I’ve put on some nice pearls… She’s taken aback for a moment.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” I ask her sweetly, gesturing at the casserole dish. “I made you your favourite, but if there’s anything else I can do to help…” I let my sentence trail off.

It’s like I said the magic words or something, because she goes from looking at me like she’s never seen me before to looking at me like I’m what’s for dinner. And she’s so frustrated and so angry, and now she’s looking so hungrily at me…

Because she’s got really long legs, she only needs to take two steps to get to me, and then she’s pinning me right up against the kitchen table with her hips. She runs a hand over one of my boobs through the dress, and makes this groaning noise deep in the back of her throat, and then she’s sweeping all the crockery and cutlery I’ve laid out straight off the table and hoisting me up onto it like I’m a toy she’s ready to play with.

I hear the plates smash on the floor and the cutlery clatter across it, but before I can think about that she spreads my legs and pushes way up against me. She’s wearing the hard packer. I can feel the solid lump in her pants immediately and I’m like, yes. Yes… I know what happens next and I am so up for it.

It makes my legs weak as she clutches at my hips and brings them up against hers, grinding into me like I’m the person she’s angry with. She’s got such an vengeful expression and it’s hot. I want her to fuck me like she’s furious with me.

She pulls the apron roughly off and reaches forward to undo the buttons on my dress so she can get at the skin underneath. I help her because there’s heaps of them, but it’s obviously taking too long even with me helping, because she’s gets impatient and just tears my dress open, buttons popping and pearls snapping everywhere. They scatter across the floor and then she pushes my bra up and fills her hands with my boobs, grasping them so firmly that flesh bulges between her splayed fingers.

I just lie there on the half-cleared kitchen table while she grabs at me, and then I feel her hands push up the fabric of my nice modest dress. Underneath it, I’m wearing sexy little undies just for her. I hear her exhale as she sees them, and I know she can see what’s underneath. She can see how wet I am, and instead of being gentle and sensitive and waiting until she knows I’m ready, she just undoes her belt and unzips her fly and flops out the packer.

And it’s not like a cis guy’s dick, I know that. But when I see it jutting out like that, it means the exactly the same thing. If she’s wearing the hard packer, it means she’s horny for me and it means she wants to fuck me. So, yeah, seeing it, and watching her hold it and push my undies to the side, lining up between my legs… it’s hot. It’s so hot. A when I feel her shove it in, it’s like… cutting the strings of a puppet. I become totally helpless.

She doesn’t hold back. She gets stuck right into nailing me, landing each thrust so hard the kitchen table moves fractionally along the floor. The packer’s got this specially designed rod up the middle that sits against her own skin, and so with each thrust I know she’s getting something out of it, too, and I see it on her face.

So I’m just lying back against the table with my legs around her waist and her slamming me, over and over and over and the crockery that’s still on the table is rattling and the table is dragging along the floor and because she’s landing so hard there’s these smack, smack, smacking noises each time she does and, yeah, out of all of those noises, the one I like them most is coming from her throat. She still angry, and she’s grunting with effort as she moves in me, and it’s the sexiest fucking sound, I swear, because I love what it means.

It means she’s getting off on fucking me. She’s getting off on the fact that glasses are falling off the table and we’re scratching the floorboards with the table legs and buttons from my dress are everywhere. She doesn’t care what we break or ruin because she’s so fucking horny and so fucking angry she just wants to work it all off on me in a fit of destructive rage and… yeah… that’s so hot.

And with her moving in and out of me, with each stroke she’s driving my hips into the table and I love it. I love it when she manhandles me. And it not like I want her to beat me up or force me or anything, but this, this is sexy, it means her need is so strong that all it takes is a single invitation and she can’t smother it like she normally does. She just has to let it all out using me as the instrument.

And I am so up for it. I want her fucking me until she gives me bruises. I want to feel that strength she has in that big body of hers. I want her to work out all of that adrenaline on me, and I want to come like a fucking mack truck with her inside me.

I can hear her breathing getting ragged, and her sucking air through her grit teeth as she moves on me, and then she’s restless, and angry and it’s not enough and she’s hoisted my legs over her shoulders and holding them like handles as she hammers into me, eyes fixed on the action between my legs.

My boobs are bouncing on my ribcage and I like how my skin pulls when they jump. Since her hands are busy anchoring my knees around her neck, I take handfuls of my own boobs, pinching my nipples and kneading my flesh. She sees that and her eyes get heavy-lidded and she groans, and that sound she makes goes straight between my legs.

It’s starting to feel really fucking good. She’s doing these long strokes and making these desperate noises, and I love the feeling of being filled up over and over and that it’s her. She’s like a ball of pent up anger and rage and she’s trying to let go of it by doing me and it’s so fucking hot. She’s so fucking hot. She’s this fucking gorgeous Korean guy in a full suit with her dick out and she’s fucking me with it, and, fuck, she’s hot, especially when she makes that face and those noises…

I stop being able to feel each individual stroke and it starts just blending into a big mass of pressure in my groin. I close my eyes and listen to the noises from her throat and the table squeaking on the floor and the sound of another cup falling off the table…

I’m helpless. I’m so helpless, and so weak, and she’s strong and powerful, and it’s… god. She’s holding me against her and thrusting, and she’s going to make me come like this.

“I’m going to come,” she manages, and it’s not the apology of it she normally makes, like, ‘I’m so sorry I took so long’, or ‘I hope you’re not disappointed’, it’s like a threat. Like, ‘watch out, Bree, here it comes and there’s nothing you can do about it’.

Her legs are shaking, her movements are less controlled, the sounds she’s making are more desperate and I open my eyes to watch her and she’s struggling to keep going because she’s right there and her teeth are grit and her face is nearly frozen in a grimace and I love that she doesn’t even care how that looks. She’s so focused on how gone she is and that’s what matters. Each thrust is tight, each swing is so laboured and then, finally, finally I see her curl inward with her mouth wide open. For a second she’s silent and then she shouts so loudly like she doesn’t give a fuck what the neighbours think. Hearing her just let go and release it all and get it all out is just… fuck, Min…

She’s gripping my thighs with white knuckles and driving my hips back into the table as she pulses, eyes jammed shut as she focuses on how it feels and her whole body is enveloped in it. She’s shaking, her hips are making these erratic movements like she can hardly control them and just watching her face and seeing how hard she’s coming and how good she feels…

Watching her face, I can feel it to. Watching her just letting it all fucking out, all that anger and all that desire and knowing how amazing and liberating that must feel for her…. fuck, I can feel it, too. I can feel her deep inside me and knowing she’s there is like… yeah. She’s there in me. She’s there on me and I’m there for her to work off on when she needs it and, boy, does she need it right now

I feel like jelly on the table, she could do anything to me and she is, and… her face… that expression…. and, god, the noises she’s make and this helpless jerks her thighs are doing and knowing I’m the cause of that… it’s hot, it’s hot, it’s so hot, she’s so hot and I can see how good she feels and how fucking hard she’s coming and it keeps going, it keeps going and fucking hell, oh my god she’s got me there and it feel so good and I can hear something escape from my mouth and then it’s just… god…

I reach up for her as I come so fucking hard, but she’s already there, leaning down over me and pressing my thighs against my chest, and pushing my knees towards my ears as she thrusts and it hurts like this, it hurts to be bent double like this but that just makes everything feel way more fucking intense, and the sweet, sweet surrender of being bent into any fucking shape she wants me in is just…

I’m so fucking in love with her. I’m so fucking in love with her, and she could literally do anything to me and I fucking want her to and this just feels like the embodiment of it. I want her to do anything she wants to me. I want her to do everything she wants to me and I don’t fucking care if it hurts because I can feel her right fucking there and that’s all I need, and…

Fuck. Fuck… it feels so good. It feels so good using every part of me to absolve her. I’d do anything for her. I love it, I love this feeling, and I love her.

After a little while, she slows and stops, standing slowly off me and letting herself fall out. She’s breathing more deeply now. When I open my eyes she’s giving me this big, lazy smile, like, yeah, yeah, that was what I needed.

Something about her has relaxed. She’s calmer. She not pacing and ranting and yelling. She’s just taking deep, peaceful breaths as lets me put my legs back around her waist. She only spends a second bending down to kiss me and it’s short and to the point: intimate, gentle, so tender. When she stands up I see her carefully run her eyes over me and they linger on my face. I didn’t tell her to stop, but she’s making sure I’m okay, anyway. Fuck, I love her.

She stands back, stretching and shaking her legs out. “I’m going to have a shower,” she says like she doesn’t care about the mess, and walks off into the bathroom and leaves me to clean up the kitchen. I know she’d help me if I asked.

So, yeah. That’s my grand design. Crazy, huh?

I’ve probably gone a bit overboard on the whole description thing while I’m telling Min the story, because Skype is dead silent for ages after I’m done. I start to worry that make it’s too hardcore and I’ve freaked her out, when she says in this strained voice, “Fuck, the way I feel right now, if you were here…” She takes a long wavering breath. “That’s what you want? Really?”

I answer straight away. “Hoo, yeah. Like, not even a question. I kind of… well, I kind of get it if it’s too much for you, though. But since you asked what I’d like…” I let the sentence trail off and hope she’ll pick it up.

She takes another breath. I don’t know what she’s going to say about it, because it is a bit crazy. Even though Min can be very protective she’s totally not aggressive at all, and I’m asking her to find her inner alpha male. I don’t really know if she’ll be able to.

Boy am I wrong. When she finally answers, I can hear the grin in her voice. “Well, working for this guy is driving me fucking nuts and my plane lands at four on Saturday, so I should be home five-ish.” She pauses. “You… want to cook me dinner so it’s ready for me when I get home…?”

Oh my god, is she…? I hear her chuckle, and realise she is saying what I think she is. My stomach is full of butterflies. Oh my god. I know exactly which nice clean dress I’m going to wear on Saturday when she gets home, and I can’t wait to set the table for us.