Touch Therapy: Where Hands Go, Bodies Beg

The elevator chimed softly as Mirae stepped out into the penthouse apartment she shared with her two younger sisters.

Her walk was… careful.

She moved like someone who had been thoroughly ruined—thighs pressed, knees unsure, her entire lower body still echoing with the memory of Joon-ho's cock.

The shirt she'd borrowed—his—was folded neatly in her purse. But her neck?

Still marked.

A faint trail of kisses and bruises traced her collarbone and throat, just barely hidden by the thin scarf she'd thrown on in the cab.

She didn't even make it halfway to her room before—

"Unnie."

The voice stopped her cold.

Two pairs of eyes locked on her from the living room.

One belonged to Jina, the middle sister, K-pop idol and rising girl group center. Long legs curled under her on the couch, a sheet mask halfway peeled off. Suspicious eyes. Sharp as ever.

The other belonged to Rina, youngest, a runway model known for walking for Seoul Fashion Week at seventeen. Phone in hand. Brows lifted. Smirk loaded.

"Where the fuck have you been?" Jina asked, peeling off the rest of her mask.

"You didn't even answer your manager," Rina added. "We thought you got kidnapped by a fanboy."

Mirae blinked.

"I was… at a friend's."

Both girls leaned forward.

"What kind of friend?" Jina asked.

"Male or female friend?" Rina smirked.

Mirae started walking.

"I'm taking a shower—"

"Pause," Jina said, standing suddenly and blocking the hallway. "Remove the scarf."

"No—"

Rina lunged from behind and tugged the scarf down.

The room froze.

"…Oh my God."

A hickey.Then another.A faint bite mark.

"Who the hell did this to you?" Jina gasped.

Mirae's face flushed.

"No one."

Rina laughed. "No one? Bitch, you look like you got devoured."

"Tell us," Jina demanded, arms crossed. "Right now."

Mirae covered her face with both hands, groaning.

They dragged her to the couch.

Girl talk: locked in.

"Okay," Jina said, serious. "We won't judge. We just want details."

"Start from the beginning," Rina grinned. "Where did you meet him?"

Mirae sighed, defeated. "It was a massage clinic."

Jina blinked. "That's code for 'escort,' right?"

"No! It's a real clinic. He's a legit therapist."

"…With magic cock," Rina said.

Mirae turned red.

"You fucked him?" Jina's eyes widened. "On the first session?!"

"I didn't plan it," Mirae muttered, legs crossed tight. "I was stressed. He touched me… and my body just—reacted."

Rina whistled. "So what's he like?"

"…Gentle. At first," Mirae said quietly. "But then… he took over. He knew exactly how to touch me. Where to press. How to speak. I… couldn't stop."

"Size?"

Mirae bit her lip.

"Big," she whispered. "Thick. I couldn't even fit it all the first time…"

Jina was frozen. "Holy shit."

"And he didn't even cum until after he made me come three times."

"Is he hot?"

"Hot in a manly way. Not some pretty boy. He's older. Calm. Confident."

"So daddy vibes," Rina grinned.

Mirae just melted into the cushion, hiding her face again.

Jina leaned forward.

"…Are you going back?"

"…Yes."

"Is it love?"

"…I don't know. But when I'm with him… I forget who I am. It's just me. And him. And his cock inside me."

Silence.

Then Rina clapped.

"Okay. I'm going next."

"Bitch what?" Mirae stared.

Rina shrugged. "If he fixed your insomnia, I want that magic, too."

"I'm curious too," Jina added, biting her lip. "You look different, unnie. Glowing. Lighter. Like you had an orgasm so deep it reset your trauma."

Mirae blinked.

They weren't joking.

And somewhere deep down…

She wanted them to taste it too.