Superjunior Its You Novels & Stories

"This... will teach you (slam) never.. to play games (slam) with me.. ever again! (slam)" Suddenly, she felt him shudder under her and she knew he was ready to release again. She ground down on him and focused on squeezing him with her inner muscles, draining him of every drop of sperm he could offer. When she was done, she climbed off his utterly exhausted figure and fell beside him on the bed. Throwing one leg and an arm over him, she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

By the second chorus, he was singing along—quietly at first, then louder, then with his whole chest. Sebastian stared at him. His mouth was open. "You know all the words," Sebastian said. "I do not." "You just sang the bridge. Perfectly. In key." "The radio is loud. You can't hear me." "I can hear you perfectly." Sebastian was grinning now, wide and delighted. "You're a Swiftie." "I am not a Swiftie." "You're a Swiftie." "I know one album. One." "What album?" Damian was quiet. "What album, Damian?"

"Fifteen thousand covers most of the surgery. I can get you the rest. Leo gets the procedure. You finish the year. At six months we end it clean and you walk away with enough to breathe." I study him standing in the middle of my practice room next to my grandfather's duct taped cello case. He is giving me the composed version of himself, the one this school sees every day, but there is something underneath it. A tightness at the jaw. A stillness that is working slightly too hard. "Why do you need a fake girlfriend," I say. "You could have any real one."