Miks loml

“S-Stop…” you stammer weakly. 

Miks laughs softly, hand caressing your thigh and the other now holding around your hips to keep you in place. His face is flushed, humming in a gravely voice right by your ear, and sighing softly when the car jumps again and you inevitably bounce on his lap.

“Good girl…” he sighs, fingers digging softly in your flesh. “So warm, and tight.”

He’s had you cockwarming him from the very beginning, much to your dismay. With his fingers splaying on your thighs and kissing your neck fervently while the girls were distracted getting ready, Miks pulled your panties aside and inserted his girthy and rock hard member inside you, biting your bare shoulder to contain his own groans as you sucked him in eagerly.

It’s been half an hour already, you were starting to get agitated as your arousal kept dripping and coating his length down to the base. You don’t even know how you’re gonna get out of this car without the clear signs that Miks has been tortuously filling you to the brim, driving you wild and completely fucked out as he gives shallow thrusts to keep you on edge.

You can barely make out Raze’s voice over the music, asking about you since you were acting strange.

“It’s a little cramped here,” Miks answers for you, smiling cheekily. He points to the bags and items from the other agents next to him in the backseat, “Her neck is hurting, and the heat is pretty strong, she’s just trying to save some energy, you know?”

“Of course!” she replies, none the wiser. 

Once Miks makes sure the girls are thoroughly entertained by the next choice of music, his hand snakes under your skirt, finger riding up and up until the tips reach your core and caresses your labia teasingly.

You whimper, legs parting slightly to accommodate the intruder hand as Miks starts circling over your clit with gentle vibrations of his radiant powers. Your hips grind on his lap, feeling his cock barely slip in and out of your core, but giving you enough friction to start chasing after your neglected orgasm avidly.

“Adrijan…” you sigh in his ear. You can feel the full bodied shudder racking him, and he gives in retribution a strong thrust, timing it right when the car hits another bump on the road. “Oh, love, ah—ngh!”

He feels you vyse around his cock when your climax hits you, walls convulsing and sucking him greedily as you bite down onto his neck to stop your sounds. The tightness of your cunt paired with the delicious pain blooming on his neck is enough to send him over the edge, cum painting your insides hot and thick, every drop being milked by your greedy pussy. His eyes roll to the back of his head, gasps being drowned by the music as his hips buck up with the last remnants of his orgasms.

You slump against his chest, taking big gulps of air and groaning slightly when Miks doesn’t stop circling the sensitive bud. It’s a lazy motion, more to entertain himself rather than to overstimulate you, and maintain the same pace.

“Adrijan…” in the heat of the moment, you tighten around his member as a warning, watching his expression morph to one of surprise as his cheeks flush red.

“S-stop!” he hisses under his breath. 

“You stop first!” you whisper back, hitting his chest.

“Hey, amiga, you feeling better?!” Raze turns around, smiling brightly. “We getting closer to the hotel!”

You startle at her voice, smiling awkwardly with a nod. Miks nods too, smiling shaky as he tries to maintain composure. Raze gives you two thumbs up and goes back to singing with KJ, giving you privacy to keep on your quarrel.

“I’ll get back to you, you’ll see.” you threaten. Miks huffs a laugh, nuzzling your neck and kissing the pulse point.

He hums, smirking, “Yeah? How so?”

You give a quick glance to the front seats, making sure both are entertained with each other before a hand sneaks up to his chest and twists his nipple between nimble fingers.

Miks gasps, grabbing your wrist and pulling it away. He’s flustered, eyes wide and confused as he watches your lips stretch to an innocent smile. 

“You are not going to sleep tonight, baby,” you brush the hair from his forehead, giving it a gentle kiss. “I’ll milk the fuck out of you until you are begging for mercy.”

“You have no idea.” 

Iso hums, sipping his coffee. His lilac eyes observe you for a moment before continuing, “You can say no to his shenanigans, you know?”

Blinking owlishly, you cock your head to the side, “What do you mean?”

The grip on his mug tightens imperceptibly, “If you don’t want to do anything that might be straining or bothersome, you are allowed to say no. Doesn’t matter if it’s your partner.” he says after a moment, not looking at you. “I wouldn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to do, if I were him.” he adds as an afterthought.

“I usually go with the flow,” you reply mindlessly, grinning sleepily. “I don’t really mind, so don’t worry.”

The meaning behind his words are lost to you, too confused to process them correctly. Unaware of how affected Iso seems to be with your answer, you down your tea in one go to get ready for the day, and for whatever is in store for you.

“Thanks for the company, Iso,” your hand squeezes his shoulder, smiling at him. “See you later.”

Iso looks like he wants to say something else, reaching out a hand at you, but the words get stuck on his throat. Deflated and disappointed, he sees you walking away, impotent to his own repressed emotions and incapable of saying what he feels.

The rest of your morning goes by slowly, much to your dismay. Since missions have been assigned already, and most of the agents have left the facility to fulfill them, there really isn’t anything nor anyone to kill the time with. Miks has refused to see you before the meeting time for no apparent reason, so with none of your friends and no boyfriend to hang out, the only thing to do left was to…train.

The corridors are silent and eerie when you walk through them to reach the training ground to shoot a couple bots and practice your rifle aiming.

When you get bored, you tend to the few guns without maintenance in the room, cleaning the chamber of bullets and reloading most of them before hanging them in their place.

After most of your activities are done, the time to meet Miks approaches.

The loose pants and shirt you’re wearing might be the best fit for whatever your boyfriend wants to do, if he has requested meeting you at the gym out of all places, so you hope it is nothing too strenuous because you were starting to get slightly fatigued.

Perhaps he’s looking for company to train, or rather someone to hype him up as he does his sets. You have heard from Clove that he likes knowing there are people around him, always in company in some sort of way, as they hype each other up while exercising.

It’s cute, but makes you wonder why he would feel the need to request it so obnoxiously rather than being direct with you. Because if what he looks for is company, you can surely offer such a thing without a hitch.

“You have come, ljubav!” Miks greets you from across the room, waving an arm. His smile is contagious, and you can't help but mirror his expression as you approach to greet him with a peck on his lips.

“You asked me to come,” you remind him, hands resting on his chest. He is wearing a compression shirt instead of his usual orange hoodie, the clothing shaping his silhouette nicely and favoring him immensely. “And this fit, Adrijan? Is it new?”

He coughs, smiling with a slight flush on his cheeks, “Oh! Um, yeah? Do you like it?”

“You look very handsome.” you admit with a nod, caressing his cheek. “Is this the reason you wanted to see me here?”

“Erm, sort of?” he laughs bashfully, scratching the back of his head. He avoids your gaze, blush deepening, “I’m…well…”

Raising an eyebrow, you search for his eyes, “What is it?

Miks breathes shakily, holding your hands between his, “Would you mind…training me?”

“Training you?” you repeat the question, flabbergasted. That was unexpected. “I’ve seen you shoot your gun, and you are so much better than I could ever be. Why would you need my help?”

“Okay, first of all, that’s a lie. We all are good with the guns,” he smooches your lips to land the compliment better. “Second of all, I mean physical training. One on one combat, you know? You are the best amongst all, ljubav, please.”

“I mean, sure,” you shrug. “But why now?”

He sighs, “Oh, baby, do you know how many times I’ve run out of bullets, and so did my enemy, and we had to go to literal fists and knives and I’ve lost!?”

Holding back a laugh, you shake your head. The smile you try to cover up is noticeable enough for Miks to realize his plight has become a joke to you.

“Don’t laugh at me,” pouting, he pulls you closer, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. Rolling your eyes, you brush through his brown hair, scratching the scalp gently. “It’s embarrassing. Sage has admonished me already every time she has to revive me and I don’t want to keep abusing her powers when she is so weak. Please, train me.”

“Okay, sweet boy, you don’t have to beg.” kissing his lips one more time, you grab his hand and pull him towards the open space in the gym. “C’mon, we can start warming up and then go over the basics.”

When the training begins, you can see the reason why Miks lost so many fights prior today. For someone who has flawless coordination and perfect timing, Miks gets so lost in that perfect beat that when something doesn’t align with excellency throws him off. 

You both have dummy knives for the practice, stances ready as you both seize each other quietly—Miks has to admit he can barely concentrate with the confident expression in your face, it makes you look so attractive he has to slap his cheeks a few times to ground himself.

You are toying with the knife, twirling it between your fingers while watching Miks’ expression twist into something more focused. 

It’s easy to read his movements, calculated and repetitive, he doesn’t change the pacing nor the timing of his attacks and in less than a minute you have taken his knife, twisting his arm behind his back and your own knife threatening to cut his neck.

“You play it too safe, Adrijan.” you whisper in his ear. He shudders, panting when you apply more pressure. “Read your enemy movements before they do, act on instinct, not on what you rehearse.”

“I can’t—”

“Yes you can,” you cut him off, letting him go and throwing his knife back at him. “You count your steps, you count how many times you shift from one side to the other before attacking. Every move you are taking is measured and predictable.”

You take distance, twirling the knife in your hand again. Miks recomposes rapidly, assessing the situation with quiet mumbles and taking into account what you’ve said to him. It’s not like he doesn’t understand what you mean, but applying a disharmony into his movements doesn’t feel right nor organic.

“I can see the smoke coming out of your ears, Adrijan,” you say with a huff of laughter, smiling fondly at him. “Let’s try something, yeah? Bring a new beat. Surely you must have lots in storage in that gorgeous brain of yours, hm?”

He blushes at your praise, clearing his throat and nodding. Shaking the slight tremble in his arms, he narrows his eyes before jumping at you. 

His movements are more erratic and less quicker than before, it’s clear he’s now thinking about his actions before acting on them, which is good but obviously slows him down. But even then, you have a hard time trying to follow his movements as you deflect his attacks.

Miks grunts as you kick the knife from his hand with a quick rotation on your axis, smirking to yourself now that you’ve disarmed him again.

In the heat of the moment, Miks lunges at you with a growl. Your knife flies through the air trying to stop him, but your back hits the mat with a resounding thud that takes your breath away. When you open your eyes, you realize you're trapped between your boyfriend's arms, with him breathing deeply as he watches you intently.

With the back of his hand he gently strokes your cheek, lips slightly parted as he gets lost in your gaze. You see him lean in slowly, closing his eyes, and just inches away from kissing you until—

His world turns around in a second, back hitting the mat so sudden it leaves him stunned.

You climb onto him, lips stretching into a smirk while holding both of his hands above his head. Miks gulps nervously, trembling slightly under your gaze and touch and gasping when you lean down, inches away from his lips.

“You are getting distracted.” you mutter with a glare. “Or do you kiss every person you fight?”

“I’d never!” he defends himself, putty in your hands, “You are just so pretty, baby.”

You frown, lips turning downwards, “Adrija—”

“You are, ljubav.” he cuts you off. “So, so pretty.”

Huffing under your breath, you stand to your full height before helping him on his feet. Miks avoids your gaze momentarily, trying to compose himself before reaching for the dummy knives and handing out yours.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have asked you to come.” he says defeatedly.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you are too distracting!” he whines. “I try to focus, but I really can’t when you look so pretty.”

The stoic expression on your face freezes him on the spot. Miks laughs nervously, not knowing what to say with your silence. He sees you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose, and the anxiety starts to take root in the pit of his stomach. 

You look beyond upset, angry at his words and for not taking you seriously, even more when he was the one requesting your help from the beginning.

“Am I a joke to you?”

Miks blinks, stunned. He opens his mouth slightly, caught off guard, “W-What?”

“Do you think any of the Omega agents are going to hesitate just because you are ‘handsome’?” you ask, making quotations with your fingers. “Do you think my counterpart is going to hesitate just because you are my boyfriend?”

“T-That’s not what I mean—”

“Stop,” you cut him off. “Your flattery or excuses won’t work. This is not something you can fix with words so easily now, Miks.”

Miks flinches, biting his lower lip and absconding both of his hands behind his back like an admonished child. 

He means to apologize, breaching the gap between you two in tentative steps, but your glare stops him from coming closer. Miks sees you ready your stance, knife held tightly between your fingers, angry lines morphing your expression, and motioning him to take place.

“Fight me.” You say through clenched teeth. 

“Ljubav, no, I’m sorry—” 

With an enraged scream, you lunge at him full speed. He backs away, avoiding a slash going for his throat, and finds footing before starting to defend himself from your onslaught. You are rough with your movements, each action taken on purpose and with a goal to make.

A heavy punch lands on his stomach, making him stumble backwards, then goes a strong slash against his left arm simulating an injury, one kick to his sides that leaves him gasping for air; you are relentless.

Miks has to start fighting back this time before you end up fucking him up and hurting him. He deflects your attacks as best as he can, and tries to land some on you when it seems you are catching your breath or with the guard down.

It’s clear you look fatigued and tired, giving out your best to not disappoint and to land the point that you can be taken seriously, even in training. Miks didn’t want to offend you, it was never his intention to begin with. 

“Is that the best you can do?” you snarl, taking some distance. Miks heaves heavy gulps of air, cleaning a few stray beads of sweat gathering on his temple, shaking his head, “Show me, then!”

Miks pivots sharply on one foot when you stop a few feet away from him, and in a sudden burst of force, he sweeps a low kick into your legs, striking just behind the knees. The impact knocks your balance out instantly, stumbling backwards with flailing limbs for stability until your back slams hard against the matter floor with a heavy thud.

The air is knocked out from your lungs, gasping in pain as numbness spreads on your lower back. Miks’ victorious smirk wipes out when he sees you writhing in discomfort on the floor, head thrown back and taking big gulps of air. 

He worriedly extends his hand to you, “Baby, I’m so sorry—”

You grab his hand and pull him forward, making him stumble and fall. He scratches his arms on the mat trying to avoid putting his whole weight on top of you, wincing when your arms secure around his neck to keep him in place and your legs tangle with his. 

Miks jumps in surprise, fighting to free himself from your iron grip, but ends up rolling onto his side while pulling you in. You twist in your place, tightening the hold on his neck until you have him in a headlock and both legs imprisoning his left leg.

“What the fuck!?” he gasps, hands gripping your arm. “Let go!”

“No!”

Miks’ legs go around your left one, and an arm goes around your mid-section to start pushing you away. You don’t hesitate to choke him as retaliation, too stubborn to give in and still holding the grudge from the small argument from before.

It comes to the point you are not even doing this to teach him a lesson, but more as vengeance for hurting your pride. Miks gasps, fingers twitching around the arm on his neck, suddenly feeling light-headed and panic takes hold of his senses.

Everything after happens in quick succession.

The pressure and lack of oxygen, plus the compromising position you two are in, causes him to act on a fright and to grasp the closest thing to him to ground himself from collapsing. 

Your thighs are the victim of his reaction, both of his hands digging into the inner part and close to your core. In the midst of it, and without his gloves, his radiant powers are unleashed and his whole palm sends shockwaves of vibrations through the limbs.

“Oh, fuck—” you let go of him, grabbing onto his shoulder. Your legs shake around his thigh, bucking your hips harshly when he doesn’t stop. “A-Adrijan!”

“I’m sorry!”

Miks frees you, untangling his legs from yours while his face bursts into color. He raises his hands in submission trying to get away from you and give you space, but your hold on his hips stops him from even moving an inch. Your hands go around his neck, pushing him against the mat, and you rock against him once, body shivering when you feel his length pulsating under his clothing.

“Ljubav,” he gasps, narrowing his eyes, eyes shining under the dim light of the gym. “w-what—”

Fingers dig into his neck, cutting off his airflow, and enhancing the ecstasy when you start grinding your clothed pussy with eagerness.

“You asshole,” you gasp, rolling your hips. Miks hands fly to your ass, helping you with the movement and relishing in the sensations. “Argh—fuck, y-you did this on purpose.”

His answers come in the form of snapping hips, pulling you closer and grinding harder. His length hardens inside his briefs, and the pleasure coursing his veins heightens with the deprivation of oxygen on his brain. It doesn’t hurt, you know where to put pressure to make him lightheaded in the best way possible, and he’s enjoying himself quite a lot.

This is not the punishment he thought he’d get after upsetting you accidentally, but he ain’t complaining. 

Miks whimpers your name at one specific roll of your pelvis, the weight on the head of his dick sends shivers down his spine and any attempt to speak goes out the window. He’s drooling by now, choked out moans escaping his lips as you keep dry humping with no means of stopping.

“I’ll forgive you,” you begin, slowing your movements. The hand around his neck lightens the hold, giving him more leeway to breathe, “if you take care of me now.”

He nods desperately, cleaning the spit on his face with the back of his hand. His face is sweaty from the lack of oxygen and the many lustful emotions clouding his brain—Miks looks way too happy to oblige your request, forgetting all about the previous argument for this moment of reprieve and intimacy.

When you free him completely, Miks sits up to crash his lips against yours in a kiss. He kisses you with urgency, tongue shoving inside your cavity and the slide of mouths growing deeper and more desperate with every passing moment. Your hands get lost in his brown curls, tugging them by the roots to control his excitement, but futile as he keeps whimpering and chasing after you despite the delicious pain. 

In a moment of desperation, he grabs the hem of your shirt and pulls it over your head. Next goes your bra, flying behind him to join your shirt, and leaving you bare for his hands to start fondling your chest shamelessly.

His lips latch onto your right breast, tongue licking around the nipple before he starts sucking enthusiastically. You wail in pleasure, closing your eyes and pulling him closer to your chest as the pleasure travels to your core in pleasant waves. Miks is whining, suckling wetly, and cheeks tinted in red. His hardening cock twitches with a stroke of your hips, both chasing after the feeling when you feel it between your folds. 

Miks lays you down on the mat, freeing your nipple with a loud pop before sucking on the other with the same thirst. Your legs round his hips, dragging him closer, and panting his name over and over when his teeth grazes the sensitive skin.

He pulls your pants and underwear slowly, heaving against your skin as he kisses and licks his way up. His teeth graces the juncture between your shoulder and your neck, rising goosebumps as your back arches against his tender touch when his fingers trail from your navel to your stomach, up and up until his hands cups your breasts again and his thumb rolls over your sensitive nipples.

He hums a gentle tune as he bites softly, sucking on the damp skin until you feel a bruise starting to form. Miks giggles to himself, satisfied after he leaves a couple more hickeys as his mark seared onto your body.

But it’s not enough. Is never enough for him.

“May I?” he whispers in your ear, biting the earlobe gently and then peppering your cheek with kisses. You can’t help but giggle, ticklish and weak as his fingers dig into your sides and caress it lovingly.

“You can,” you hold his face, looking into his dark green eyes with a smile on your face. “I’m completely yours.”

Miks sighs, smitten to the core, and gives a long kiss to the palm holding his face. 

His lips travel slowly, mapping out every inch of your skin while your fingers play with his tousled hair, scratching his scalp gently.

Lips kiss each erected nipple in your chest, sucking and tongue twirling on the left bud. Your back bends slightly, sighing his name while Miks takes his time enjoying the taste and roughness on his paladar.

His hands part your legs as he accommodates between them, breath hovering over your core and eyes locking onto your wet pussy. You see him lick his lips before diving and devouring your slickness as a starved man, tongue prodding between the folds gently and tip teasing your nub so precisely your legs spams between his head. 

You thrash under his ministrations, gasping for air when his lips sucks on your clit and teeth graze the sensitive skin around. Your hand gets lost in his brown curls, pushing his head and bucking your hips against his eager mouth eating you out. 

“Adrijan~” you moan, head thrown back, grinding your pelvis. He hums, his wet muscle flicking over your clit repeatedly as his arms wrap around your thighs to open you up more. “A-Adri, please.”

“What do you need, anđele?” he mutters, eyes locking onto your expression. “I’ll give you anything you want.”

Gasping, you feel his fingers prod your entrance but never putting them in, making you all the more eager to be filled. Your walls spams around nothing, and the coil starting to form in your belly gets tighter the more he prolongs his teasing, riling you up.

“I want your cock, Adrijan, please.” 

Your voice melts his heart and sends all the blood flowing down his dick. It twitches in his pants, hard as rock and sensitive when he grinds against the floor.

“Hmmm, are you sure that’s what you want?” he asks innocently, giving your clit a long drag of his tongue. “I really love my stay here.”

Whining, you nod rapidly, brain clouding with lust when he sucks again, pleasure building up fast and racking your body, “Fuck, I need you, please.”

Miks laughs, kissing the nub once and letting go of your thighs. He sits between your legs, pulling down his pants and underwear to free his member from its confines. It lands heavy on your pussy, pre-cum smeared over the tip and veins prominent on the sides of his shaft. 

Biting your lips, you gaze at his flushed erect cock with desire. He smirks confidently at your reaction, pulling his compressing shirt over his head and tossing it to the side. His slender but toned body is covered by a thin layer of sweat as he stretches his arms above his head, leaning in and capturing your lips in a deep kiss.

His pelvis aligns with yours, length sliding between your folds as he starts to grind roughly, stimulating your clitoris. You deepen the kiss, moaning into his mouth and tongues intertwining as the kiss grows in intensity and passion, getting lost in his taste and the way he melts in your mouth.

Only when his cock is slick enough does he dare free your lips, a thin string of saliva still connecting you before he licks it up.

The tip of his member toys with your entrance teasingly, gathering up more of your slick as he pumps his length between long and thick fingers. The head goes in slowly, the pressure of your walls sucking him in desperately that Miks can’t help but hiss, sound transforming into a gasp.

“How are you—shit,” he stops for a second, panting, “so fucking tight.”

Miks hasn’t felt this horny since the last time you both decided to have sex in the common area a few weeks ago, throwing caution to the wind and going at it like animals in heat until he had you putty in his arms and cumming on his cock repeatedly. 

It was just your luck no one was around that time to witness your lovemaking, and he hopes the same applies here when he begins inserting his length slowly.

He groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he feels your walls contracting and swallowing him eagerly. Throwing your head back, you cannot help the whimper when he’s fully in, filling you up nicely and sending goosebumps all over your body. The pleasure clouds your mind, mouth agape as you get used to his size once again, and losing it when he bucks his hips once to test the waters and you moan high pitched.

Miks looks down at you with nothing but love and raging lust swimming in his green eyes. It might be your fucked out imagination, but you could swear his pupils have even shaped as a  heart as he starts to move slowly, hungry to hear more of you, feel you and see you crumble under his touch.

“I love you,” he whispers in your ear, kissing your cheek gently and looking deep into your eyes. He whimpers your name so lovingly, your own chest hurts, “My sweet angel, I love you.”

His arms are caging you against the mat, creating a small intimate bubble for the two of you as he starts grinding against your pelvis with more purpose.

The first few strokes are slow and grounding, cock sliding in and out wetly, and gummy walls sucking him in so deliciously he can’t help but whimper. Making love to you has always brought a sense of comfort and affection only you can make possible within his sensible heart.

It’s embarrassing to admit, but he has fallen so deeply in love with you that every time you allow him to fuck you is like a dream come true. To give him the chance to enjoy your body, your voice, your vulnerability with him sends him into overdrive and fries his brain with lust and want.

To think he is lucky enough that you let him have his way with you…

“God, I love you so much,” he repeats, starting to ram into you with more vigor. He hugs you close to his chest, feeling your breasts squeeze against his pecs and your legs around his hips to pull him closer and deeper. “I love you, I love you!”

He shoves his hips with a thunderous strength that has you shaking under his touch, moaning loudly and whimpering when he starts grinding on your most sensitive spot repeatedly. The bastard has the qualms to apply sonic vibration to his lower half, the motion traveling to the tip of his cock and driving it straight to your g-spot.

“Adrijan, harder—!” you moan, “There! Right there!”

Miks does as he’s told, ramming your insides in a quicker pace, creating a symphony of lewd sounds of your moans getting higher and his groans drowning in your neck. The slap of skin against skin, listening to his dick slid in and out of your pussy and the slick running down your buttcheeks with how much you’re leaking—

“Adri, ahg—, fuck!” Biting onto his shoulder, your climax hits you suddenly. 

The ferocity in which your body trembles under him as you ride your orgasm is immeasurable, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you scream his name into oblivion. The pleasure builds up and then snaps, coursing all over you as your legs tighten around his hips while he snaps them roughly, feeling overstimulated and lost in the feeling. 

Miks loses his mind having your walls constrict around his cock in an iron grip. Arms hug you closer and flush against your body to feel the remnants of your orgasm wreck you. His groans echo within the room, fucking you with a passion rivalling his love for you, too lost in sensations, too lost in the pleasure he ignores your cries when you beg him to slow it down after the high. 

He doesn’t. The warmth of your insides, your cum coating his dick and your calls of his name gets to his head while his mind chants over and over that his only mission is to cum inside of you. He doubles the effort when he feels the coil in his belly tightening, chasing after his own climax.

“A-Adri!” You cry out, nails digging into his back. Your body is overheated, clit swollen and nipples erected against his chest, every part of your body sensitive to every shift in movement and temperature, you are losing your mind. “Ah, ah! P-Please! Adri—stop!”

“No!” He replies in desperation. Lust has clouded his judgment and brain, he keeps pistoning his cock inside you over and over, rocking your body to help you make him feel deeper. “No, no, no.”

It’s too much, it’s too much.

An impending second orgasm hits your system like a tidal wave, body locking into place as you scream his name again and ride the overwhelming pleasure coursing your veins. Miks can’t hold back this time, slamming his hips wildly and climaxing inside of you with big amounts of cum as he groans your name.

“Mine, mine, mine,” he whispers against your skin, kissing every inch available as he thrusts his hips a few more times.

Your walls spasm around his length, milking every drop of his thick and heavy cum. The muscles in your legs gives out, as the rest of your body does, and you lay there, boneless and fucked out of your mind as you catch your breath and your muscles spam.

Miks looks in fascination at the cum in your pussy when he takes his flaccid member out of your cunt. A sight to behold, a testament of his ownership over you and that no one else is allowed to take from him.

His fingers gather up the cum and insert it back gently, inside and deep, right where it belongs, and helps you close your legs to keep it there.

Laying next to you, his eyes roam your face in expectancy, suddenly timid and shy after your lovemaking. He has an arm around your midsection, fingers caressing your side lovingly, and a small smile spreading his lips. He knows he gets quite…passionate. And possessive. And quite a bitch to make you his without regarding your cries. 

But he does it because he loves you so much. He wants nothing more than to let you know how much he loves you and would do for you. And he hopes you feel the same for him too.

A quiet footstep catches his attention as he waits for you to ground yourself, and Miks is quick enough to witness a flash of purple before listening to the door of the gym closing behind it.

With a smug smirk, he huffs to himself, satisfied.

“You are such…” you start quietly, chest rising and deflating. His green eyes devour the sight hungrily. “an asshole.”

“Me?” he asks innocently. You turn to look at him, deadpan. “I’m a sweetheart!”

“Sweetheart my ass,” you bite back, laying on your side. He smiles, hands going to grope your ass and squeezes it.

“Yeah, sweet treat it is.”

With a flush you smack his hand away, “You are a pervert!”

“But you love me like this, don’t you?” He pouts, inching closer. Your lips are a breath away from his, hovering but not breaking the gap. You gulp, suddenly flustered. “Don’t you love me, baby?” 

“I-I do,” you reply, palm caressing his chest gently. 

Miks pulls your body close to his, skin and flesh melting together as he captures your lips in a kiss. You sigh into his mouth, moaning softly as he starts deepening it and his hands begin roaming your naked body greedily.

“You are insatiable,” you mutter against his lips. 

“Can’t help it when my girlfriend is so desirable and sweet.” he replies without hesitation, smiling. He lays on the mat, pulling you above him while both his hands grab your buttlocks to squeeze them. “Won’t you ride me, baby?”

Feeling a flush creep up your cheeks, you shake your head, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. 

“It’s embarrassing,” you mutter. Miks huffs a laugh, emotions swelling in his chest. 

“But you looked hot before.” he says encouragingly. “I’d love seeing you taking the pleasure however you want, anđele.”

Humming, you tug him close and kiss the pulse point on his neck, biting the flesh gently. Miks gasps softly, feeling his cock react to the stimulation while your hands roam down his back.

“Please, ljubav? For me?” he begs, massaging your ass. “I’ll even use a little cheat, hm?”

To emphasize his words, you feel the fingers digging into your flesh begin to vibrate. The tip of his long fingers threaten close to your core, vibration gaining speed and intensity as his hands inch their way to your pussy. 

You gasp, bucking your hips against his hands. Miks doesn’t tease you for long, a few fingers finding your folds and inserting them to make you feel the intensity thundering in your sensitive parts. The lewd sound of his cum still inside of you as he starts fingering you is enough incentive to lose your mind.

“Fuck, okay—wait,” with a kiss on his lips, you sit on his lap slow and flustered.

Being so riled up, and with his cock standing erect and flushed once again, you raise your hips slightly to help him slide in between your folds and deep into your cunt until he’s filling you up.

Miks whimpers in pleasure, hands digging into your side as he appreciates the view with nothing but love and obsession over you.

He will never get tired of you.

-----------

You wake up the next morning sore, but fulfilled.

The marathon sex, because there is no other word to describe all you did that afternoon, has left you wondering where did Miks get that much stamina from.

You couldn’t keep up the pace after he made you cum for the fifth time, nevermind the many other orgasms he made you go through after, it was embarrassing. 

Still, he was a gentleman and cleaned up all your…lovemaking after he was satisfied. He dressed you, carried you to your room, and pampered the hell out of you until you kicked him out for starting his handsyness once again.

Glancing at a mirror, you are horrified to see the many hickeys and bitemarks littering around your neck. Make-up wouldn’t be possible to cover it all, so a scarf and a high neck shirt will have to do the job for now until you find your boyfriend to heal it up.

When you reach the kitchen, tired and hungry as fuck, you are met with Iso just like the day before. He is drinking a cup of coffee mindlessly, attention elsewhere but in the moment that he doesn’t notice your presence until you land a hand on his shoulders, startling him.

“Hey, morning.” you greet, looking at him slightly worried. “Everything okay?”

Instead of an answer, Iso’s face bursts into colors when he sees you. His mouth is slightly agape, words stuck in his throat as he tries to come up with a normal response instead of reminiscing about the events he witnessed in the gym the day before. 

Your moans. Your voice. Your naked body—

“I have to go.” he announces, fleeing the kitchen without as much as an explanation.

You are left with a hand hovering in the air, and confusion overtaking your features. Cocking your head to the side, you find no reason to attribute to Iso’s weird behaviour.

The terrifying look on Yoru's face, with tiny beads of blood dripping down his forehead as he reloads his sheriff once again, should have been enough of a telltale that this is it for you. You are doomed. 

The nausea and dread brings a cocktail of misery and misfortune, twisting in your belly and seizing your muscles in panic, something you never expected to experience in your life— and might be the last thing you get to feel.

There are no words coming out of your mouth, voice stuck in your throat and barely able to squeak in surprise when he tries to close the distance between your faces rapidly. 

Your blood runs cold when he grabs your bloody hands and the gun, now strapped to his hip, reflects your horrified expression, mocking you of your helplessness.

The way in which your breaths intermingle twists your stomach uncomfortably, unable to make room for breathing since your injuries and loss of blood made your movements lethargic and more sluggish. His black eyes look at you with an unknown emotion swimming in them, as if searching, trying to decipher what lays behind your expression until he is satisfied with the answer he comes up with.

It is then that you realize he is no longer being aggressive or sadistic, but tamer and leve-headed—and somehow, that feels worse.

“You're mine.” he tells you. 

“Huh?”

You have to blink back the unshed tears when you hear the statement. He sees the confusion in your face, and looks at you with pity, thumb running down your cheek until his fingers grip your chin with force.

“I’ll take care of you.” The Japanese man says with an unnerving expression, delusion clouding his judgment. “You have me now, don’t be scared.”

Weakened by the fight, with bullet holes framing your entire body and unable to keep defending yourself, you are faced with what could possibly be the worst outcome with one of the Omega agents.

Your comrades bodies are sprawled all around you, cold and dead, is a miracle you're still up and conscious enough to have witnessed Yoru toss them to the side to make room for him.

But how did it get to this?

It was five against a duelist.

Five of you holding the site and waiting for the spike to be defused so you could go home— how did it end up like this? Where did you make the mistake?

And why, just why did it have to be you the last one alive?

Yoru leans in, you back away against the wall, wincing and sobbing in pain when you feel blood pour from your stomach and numbness in your legs. He hovers his mouth a breath away from your lips teasingly, noses touching and a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth when he realizes you have nowhere to run.

“Is okay.” he says, an odd soft tone in his voice. You’ve never heard Yoru speak like this before. “I’m here, my love.”

Closing your eyes, you decide to comply with whatever he wants for the time being. It's the smart move right now, being as vulnerable as you are, despite dread churning at the pit of your stomach.

Yoru kisses you gently, cold and smooth lips moving slowly against yours, breathing in heavily when he feels your mouth part slightly, before diving and applying more pressure, grunting in excitement and forcing his way in. 

His tongue invades the inside of your mouth slowly, mapping out every inch, tongue licking the roof and sucking on your lower lip when you whine uncomfortably, not minding the irony taste from the blood that has pooled before.

His hands are holding your head in place with a strong yet gentle grip, mouth traveling to kiss your cheeks, your nose, down your neck and back again your lips in desperation. Yoru kisses with the intention to sear his mark into you and melt your touch together. It’s possessive, territorial.

It’s to own you.

The tears pouring down your cheeks doesn't deter him from chasing after you, sucking on your lower lip again and biting until it draws blood.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart.” he mutters, licking the beads of blood. You find it disgusting. “We’re going back home.”

Those words awaken the fright you've been trying to hold back, panic rushing through your system and giving you the adrenaline boost to push him away and try to crawl your way out of this.

The pain is unbearable, coughing up blood every few seconds and extremities tensing with each drag on the floor, but whatever Yoru might have planned scares you more than your wounds and the possibility you might die.

“Playing hard to get? That's alright, we can play a little more.” Yoru rises to his feet, walking slowly behind you and watching in amusement your poor attempt at making distance.

The red trail you're leaving behind is unsightly, and you are terrified to know how much blood you've lost. How long will it take until you bleed to death? Will he let you prolong your pain until that moment, or would he be merciful and stop your suffering? 

Crying softly, you crawl until you're laying right next to Gekko's body, whimpering in agony when you see his dead eyes looking into the nothingness and skin paling under the pool of blood.

Your trembling hand hovers over his cold cheek softly, and you cannot help but be hurt watching him this still, completely dead to the world and to his family back in his hometown.

But then, his body is pulled away from your grasp violently. And you watch in horror as Yoru tosses his body to the side, slamming it against the wall and provoking an awful crack to echo in the silence of Haven.

“He's fucking dead.” Yoru snarls, kneeling and grabbing you harshly by the back of your neck and pulling to keep you at eye level, “And unlike him, I'm here and alive. Look at me!”

Your breathing gets uneven as the panic and pain seizes you completely— the tears are blinding your sight and you cannot stop crying in fear.

“Why won't you look at me?!” He demands loudly. His black eyes are burning you with rage and contained fury. The only thing you can do is whimper in pain since words fail you completely. “Why won't you look my way?!”

It’s as if Yoru hasn’t gotten enough by taking away more than your friends and your only chance of survival. He is asking for more, you know he wants more than this victory, and that's what's terrifying: the unknown.

Grief is the only emotion that prevails when darkness consumes you, nausea and dizziness engulfing you in slumber. 

Miks is kneeled before you, pinning your body against the wall, one hand fondling your right breast and twisting the nipple between nimble fingers, and the other is wrapped around your thigh in a secured hold. Your weight rests entirely on his shoulders, squirming and shuddering as his tongue prods inside your walls and drinks your juices as a starved man. 

His cock twitches inside his briefs when you pull on his hair a little too hard, eyes rolling to the back of his head and fingers digging into your skin. Miks can’t help but groan, tongue prodding between your folds.

“More, please!” Your pelvis grinds against his face. Nose nudging your clit, “Adrijan please, please, I need you!”

Miks licks a long stripe on your slit slowly, kissing the sensible nub gently and twirls his tongue on the bud, eliciting a shiver down your spine as a wicked smile stretches on his lips.

“Hmmm, your noises are so lovely.” He purrs, cheeks squishing on your thigh. His tongue wets his upper lip, smiling cheekily, “I love how you sound, won’t you give me more?”

“Adri, please…” he feels you twitching under his touch. “Stop teasing me.”

“But you like it when I do.” he emphasizes his words by pinching your nipple, giggling under his breath when you gasp and curve your back. “Moj anđelčić, keep making noises for me, yeah?”

Moaning and thrashing against his mouth, Miks grabs your waist with an iron grip as his lips circle around your bud again and sucks, tongue flicking rapidly on your clit. His fingers nudge your walls gently, inserting three at a time and thrusting them in tandem with his sucking.

His dark green eyes observe every shift in expression on your face. The furrowed brows, eyelids closed, and mouth wide open letting sinful moans flow endlessly. The sight makes his cock throb, but the friction against the fabric of his trousers does nothing to relieve the pain. Even the pre-cum has started to stain his underwear as his pelvis grinds the air in search of relief. The tightness of your walls feels delicious around his fingers the faster he pumps them; he can’t wait to fill you up with his cock and have you wrapped around his length.

Miks can wait a little longer, that’s okay. He’d do anything to keep listening to you moans and drinking your release as if it were ambrosia. To feel your soft skin and hands tugging and pushing his face against your pussy as he gets drunk on the feeling.

Your whines get louder the closest you are to your climax. Miks can feel it in the way your legs start to tremble erratically and how oblivious you are to the strength pulling at his curls—he notices when his tongue curls just right on your clit, the pitch on your voice gets higher and your fingers tighten on his roots.

He retrieves the fingers then, coated in your juices, and your walls spams around nothing. You whimper at the loss, grinding your pelvis against his mouth but he only chuckles, winking playfully as he lets go of your thighs gently.

“Come here, sweet girl, I’ll make you feel better.” 

Miks stands, tugging your hand gently as you trail after him with wobbly legs. When your limbs fail you, you land on his chest with a soft thump, sighing his name with a whiny groan and grinding your legs together. 

“Help me?” You beg, looking up at him through a blurry gaze. 

Inside his pants, his cock twitches at the sight. Miks has to stop a moment before he jumps you right there, trying to control his impulses because he wants this to last for as long as he can. 

That and he doesn’t want to act like an animal in heat trying to mark a claim on you…as much as he wants that.

He pulls you against his body, smiling softly as his cheeks redden, “Anything for you, my love.”

Miks sits you on the table, not resisting for another second and goes to steal a kiss from your lips. He goes to grab his rolling chair, eyes roaming your nude form in all its glory, and fails miserably a few times in catching the back of the chair as he gets distracted by your perky nipples and bashful expression. 

Without any shame, he pulls his pants and underwear down in one go, resting right above his knees.

Your eyes widen as you let out a gasp, covering half of your face with your hands as you feel your face warm in embarrassment and excitement. Your walls spams when you see his erect cock, flushed at the tip and with precum smeared around the head. The veins in his shaft are slightly prominent and go all the way down hiding under the curls of his pubic hair.

Miks bites his lip, amused at your reaction, and pulls his damp gloves off to toss it to the side. He grabs the base of his length then, pumping it slowly as he sits on the chair and sees your legs closing in search of friction.

“Right here, baby,” he mutters, patting his lap, “Sit where you belong.”

It doesn’t take more convincing as you immediately throw yourself at him, legs encasing his waist and arms going around his shoulders as you claim his lips in a desperate kiss.

Your mouths melt together, tongues tangling as your needines to be fucked grows by the second. Miks takes your lower lip with his teeth, biting it playfully before he returns the kiss tenfold in passion. 

Without breaking the connection you raise your hips slightly, feeling him guide the tip of his cock to your entrance and resting his free hand on your hips, thumb caressing the side lovingly.

As you descend, you feel your walls fluttering as it accommodates his size. You are covered in so much of your arousal and Miks’ spit from before, and it helps slightly as his cock slides in slowly, stretching you further and making your mouth go wide when he finally bottoms out.

You whimper, unable to hide how good it feels with the tip pressing against your sensitive spot, sending a shockwave of pleasure through your system. 

Miks groans your name, tensing under you with his hands gripping your sides painfully. It melts away as he rubs your skin with his powers after a moment, sighing a breath of pleasure when you test the waters by bouncing slowly on his member. The sudden stimulation makes him jump on the chair, throwing his head forward and hiding his face on the crook of your neck.

“Fuck—so tight,” he curses lowly, “W-Wait, wait a second—”

Your hand wraps around his neck and pushes him against the backrest with a quiet whine. Miks’ face is flushed red with his eyes unfocused as he struggles to form a coherent sentence, brain mushy from the feeling of your walls hugging his dick so deliciously.

“I feel so full, Adrijan,” you mutter, rolling your hips. “You fill me up so well.”

“Hot,” he replies, “So fucking hot and warm—ah!”

Whatever he was trying to say slurs into nonsensical blabbering when you start riding him in earnest, the tip of his cock hitting that spongey spot over and over, stimulating and making your legs tremble from the pleasure.

Your moans echo in the little room, throwing caution into the wind as your volume gets higher in pitch when Miks starts joining your symphony with whimpers of his own. The rolling chair bounces alongside your riding, giving you a boost every time the head of his cock remains inside and you slam down your hips.

“Oh, oh! There! Adri, fuck—oh my god.”

His hands travel from your hips to your chest in desperation, gripping your breasts on the palm of his hands and seeing it spill between his fingers with an enamored expression. You still your hips when he pulls your nipples gently, causing you to fold forward as a shiver racks your spine straight to your wet cunt. 

He barks a breathy moan when you tighten around him, seeing you so sensitive to his touches that he wishes nothing more than to devour you whole. 

Without waiting for you to continue, he hugs you close to his chest and stands up. His hands grab your tights quickly, avoiding you to fall and detach from himself to where you are connected. He lays you down on the table gently, right next to his mixer and notebooks, and begins pounding into your heat with wild abandon and lust taking over.

Miks lifts your legs above his shoulders, resting them there as he folds you in half so his cock can reach deeper, burying himself to the hilt each time your walls spams. He keeps muttering your name over and over, too lost in the pleasure, too focused on wanting to reach both of your climaxes.

“L—Let’s try something, yeah?” he asks in a hushed whisper. Pace harder, faster, “Moan loader for me, babygirl.”

One of his hands sneaks between your bodies, thumb reaching for your nub and rolling over your clit in wicked circles. It’s not until it begins vibrating that you lose your mind completely.

“Fuck!” You cry out, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Faster! Adri—Adrijan! Go faster, please!”

Miks latches his mouth on your nipple, tongue twirling and sucking eagerly as he intensifies the vibration on your clitoris and his pistoning cock keeps knocking your breath away. 

The stimulation ignites every single nerve in your body as your walls spams around his shaft. It’s hot, and slick and wet and the sounds are just filthy in the lustful haze of your brain.

“Oh fuck, baby,” he whimpers around your breast. Hips snapping against your ass. The sound of skin against skin dirty to his ears, “Keep pulling me in, you feel so good—ah!” 

Miks fucks you like a man possesed. Each time he makes you scream his name, he tries to go harder, wanting to keep listening to your voice crack as pleasure shoots up your body.

“Breed me!” you scream in desperation, brain mushy from the pleasure. Your nails dig into his back as you try to anchor yourself, too lost in the sensations, “Fill me up, please! Adri, baby, fuck me harder!”

A guttural groan rips from his chest as he feels you reach your orgasm faster than he thinks. Your back snaps like a bowstring, chest puffing out and throwing your head to the side as you cum with his name on your lips.

When you clench around him in wild spams, he’s a goner.

With one final deep thrust, pressing flush against your body, he cums with a shuddering gasp.

Warmth floods inside you in pulsing waves as he spills inside your pussy in heavy amounts of spent. He gives weak thrusts as he rides his orgasm alongside you, knees wobbling for a second from the intensity of it and whimpering.

Miks doesn’t pull out, wanting to give you every last drop as his hips twitch. His lips reach your neck, collarbone and chest. His hands massages each inch of skin available for him, feeling you up as you sigh from the overstimulation. 

“Adrijan,” you call softly, kissing the mop of his hair. “I love you.”

“I know baby,” he replies, kissing your lips in a gentle grace. “I love you too. So much, you have no idea.”

With a quiet giggle, you reciprocate his smooches playfully, pecking his lips multiple times until he is blushing. 

“No more jealous?” you ask, hand toying with the hairs on the base of his neck. Miks pouts slightly.

“I wasn’t jealous.” he lies. You roll your eyes, huffing a laugh.

“Sure, of course.” you reply, “You wanting to eat me out has nothing to do with how Yoru proposed the idea to me.”

Miks grumbles, getting angry by the second, “The audacity of that bitch to ask my girl if she ever wants to go down in front of me was stupid. I will kill him next time.”

Giving a laugh, you smack his back, “Adri, I was never going to say yes.”

“Doesn’t matter, I have the necessary material to make him regret what he said.”

When you cock your head to the side, confused, Miks can’t help but sigh lovingly looking into your precious face as affection swells his chest.

“I love you so much,” he says, “That’s why I’ll incorporate our lovemaking sounds into my next set for the protocol to listen.”

“What?!” You exclaim, blushing wildly. “When did you even record us?!”

“Now?” He replies. “Baby, don’t be silly. Why did you think I wanted to fuck you here? It has good isolation for sounds.”

Miks winks playfully, claiming your lips in a deep and desperate kiss. You can’t even deny him, hugging him close as your kiss deepens and mouth slots together filthily. 

His tongue meets yours inside your mouth, moaning slightly when starts toying with yours until he dominates you. When you part, you are panting heavily, a thin string of saliva still connecting you to him. 

Miks slowly pulls out his softening cock from your pussy, making the most lewd sounds you could think of, and embarrassed to admit it turned you on how much of his cum has filled you.

“Should I record the sounds of my cum if I finger you now?”

“Adrijan, stop!”

Even when he found himself falling in love, Ryo’s morals and beliefs never warped nor misguided. 

Odd, in everyone's eyes. Reasonable, in his.

The loner wolf got someone to like him and tame his wild heart by simple actions, little by little, until Yoru stopped being the radiant with powerful abilities, to introduce himself to you as Ryo; a normal japanese man who enjoys the smell of coffee and reminisce the old times with a heavy heart.

You were completely fooled by his web of lies to keep you away from the mess his life is, to keep you on your toes whenever he desired to share bits of his past and made you feel like the only person special in his world; which is true, despite the many wrongs he's done, you are truly what he could consider his special someone and his treasure.

You managed to have him wrapped around your finger in less than a month with sweet words and caring nature. Stubborn but mindful, hot-headed but grounded—you were the perfect mix complimenting him.

Yoru didn't even know he was capable of trusting something as important as his heart to a stranger of sorts, blindly following what his emotions dictate and what your sweet words enchant him to do.

He was in love, completely and utterly head over heels for you it was almost ridiculous.

Eating every word you’d have to say as if it were the law, watching your hands work around your station and do their magic while making his favorite beverage for the day, stealing glances his way every now and then—it was embarrassing how pliant you made him by just being there. 

There were days he would stay longer. When work was not important and you seemed thrilled to have him around, he’d lounge in the coffee shop and watch you work with a smile gracing your features.

And when the night falls, and you are tucked away in the privacy of your room, he would kiss every inch of your body that you allow him to touch and worship you as if you were a god, his god; preaching, marking and claiming you as his.

Every touch, every bite mark, every time you gasp for air when he drowns himself between your thighs, taking and taking in tandem what you offer in a silver plate; he cannot get enough, going for your sensitive spots one at a time until he has you shattering with pleasure and he chases after you to join. But no matter what, always prioritizing you.

That’s how ridiculous this whole thing is.

Phoenix and Jett are the few who are witness to his affections and love towards another human being— and made it out alive after being found out spying on the Japanese man. 

To say you saved them from the wrath of Yoru's anger despite having all the reasons to smite them would be an understatement. They are more than thankful, if not curious about your history with the riftwalker and what it meant to have a partner outside the realm of normalcy.

It was dangerous, in truth, to have his personal life disclosed this easily to everyone who was his comrade in battle. Nothing good would come out of it and his lies would be found out if you were to interact further with them.

But at the end, he realized it could favor him immensely if the others knew, except for you.

Yoru is not someone who can trust others easily, as previously stated. Quite the opposite. 

Through his tough persona, he evades people all the time to avoid being seen or cornered to socialize; insulting and pushing away whoever wants to approach him even from a friendly stance.

When you entered his life he understood he wouldn't be able to protect you alone. Hence the lies, to keep you at arms lengths. But now that you were too involved in his world, the best course of action that he finds reasonable is to rope a few other agents to ensure your safety, as dangerous as it might sound.

Cypher would make sure to erase every trace of interactions with the riftwalker after every meeting; all at the high price he won't disclose by contract with the Moroccan man. He is not proud of what he owes him now, but to know you're well secured and protected, he would do it again and again.

He contacted Killjoy to hack into the system to find any correlation of your social circle to whoever worked or is currently working for Kingdom. Once the list was delivered to his hands, Yoru would make sure everyone on the list would be erased from existence; not a single soul would be able to escape him.

By what methods? That's for him to take to the grave, with no witnesses.

You are his world, you are his everything, and he will make sure you are safe and sound or else hell will rise. 

—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—

Omen: Words. [Knitting shop]

The concentration poured into keeping himself together could be arguably the best quality he could offer. 

Not everyone can pride themselves about the determination of keeping oneself alive for longer than nature intended; since his due time was past the date and he’s now breaking every little law of the universe, he wonders if this was some sort of punishment for going against it. 

He’s never asked to be revived into…a monster, despite having many people arguing that whatever he is now, is better than being dead.

A foolish thought.

Omen can definitely be naming the many reasons as to why it is not a miracle, but a penitence for his past mistakes when he was alive. Atoning for his sins in the form of smokes and dirty armor, from broken flesh and ignited bones, it pains him deeply being alive and despises whoever treats his hurt as if it were nothing.

Being reborn as a new being shifts something on his brain, unintentionally, and he begins treating himself as an inhuman. Therefore, anyone who looks his way treats him the same way: like a monster.

Is inevitable, really, a course of action not even he has the power to stop nor change. He goes along with whatever happens in his surroundings now, accustomed to his comrades' attitudes.

He’s more than aware of their dirty looks and general avoidance whenever he is in the vicinity, oblivious of his capability of sensing emotions through wavelengths or the fact that he’s witness to their change in demeanour— they know how to keep it professional enough so disturbances don't take place.

That is how his days go by, used to it, used to being an unsightly view and detriment to the morale of his comrades with his unsettling voice and mannerism. His turmoil means nothing if the rest is content with not having him around; so he absconds, hides himself most of the time and pretends he isn't alive for their sake.

There is nothing new in his everyday life.

Or so he thinks, before his curse tides the wave in his favor.

Imagine his surprise the first time someone didn't react negatively with his presence. 

It threw him off, confusion overtaking him and assuming he just read the cues wrong. It surprises him more when you don’t react at all until he speaks out loud, scaring the living shit out of you.

When you look at him, or more specifically, where you thought he was, Omen supposed this would go different.

Not being a sociable person, Omen finds it odd to have been convinced to come to Harajuku for materials he needed. Some of his knitting kits have gone missing, and trying not to bother his comrades, he never spoke about the issue.

Yoru made some reassurance, in his own way, that no one would mind the way he looks since everyone there was already a freak. Omen didn't refute his saying, since his words had truth in there, despite feeling offended. 

“They won't even notice you at night,” he commented.

No fear, no screams, not even a glance nor terrified expression painting your features besides being startled; that's how your first meeting went: only a smile and the pleasure to assist him.

Kind and lovely, adjectives Omen would never think of being used in his vocabulary, but for this occasion, it was necessary, a must to describe you. Amusing, too, whenever he would ask you questions about certain things, voice deep and reverberating it sent shivers down your spine; he made you nervous.

One more worker, just like him, but missing a certain ability most had.

You were blind.

For better or worse, it doesn't change your way of treating him like a human being; despite him losing his humanity over and over again on the battlefield, taking life after another, you treat him with a kindness and warmness that he has forgotten long ago. 

You are quick to erase the awful thoughts running through his brain with little chats and adorable clumsiness, chasing after him at the shop to keep talking. It was flattering that someone was taking an interest in him this deeply, and inevitably, he finds himself chasing after you too.

Omen believes this is how liking someone feels, contrary to his initial thoughts on socializing, he finds it fulfilling and easy to navigate with you with this newfound feeling.

His one time visit becomes a recurrent, always looking for you and ignoring everyone else in your surroundings to bask in your full attention and pretty smiles. Even when people visit the shop, even when people comment on his overall look with disgusted faces, one word from you eases his tension and doubts.

You are a sweetheart to a fault, letting everyone walk on you because of your calm demeanor and shy complex under stressful situations. He would watch people talk behind your back within your presence, ignoring completely the crestfallen expression on your face or the gathering tears in your eyes when you think he’s not there or no one notices.

They belittle you, doubt your work and decision making because of your lack of vision.

They doubt him too, for his appearance perhaps, he doesn’t know for sure. But their words begin to target him as well, stronger than before, with the full intention of seeing him fall and break under the pressure of the masses and therefore, you would fall too.

Omen decides he wants them gone.

Aim is another quality of his, you know?

A little secret whispered in your ear one night. With a promise to return and barrel of the gun cold, he goes off into the dark and blends in within the shadows surrounding the city to fulfill his wishes.

Whatever he does outside the sliding doors of the little shop should be none of your concern, but his alone. If you hear crying, muffled sounds at the end of the street, or just the minimum rustle at the entrance, he’s warned you to not chase after it.

Being covered in dry blood is not a pretty sight, and he wonders then, watching the life fading from another monster who dared disrespect you, if you would accept him for who he really is.

So when he reaches the threshold in the shop, startling you and freezing on the spot, he asks you if you would ever consider loving someone who doesn't belong in this world anymore.

When you kiss for the first time, Omen doesn't think, he can't, too overwhelmed to process what's going on.

It’s odd, but somehow, warming. Your face is warm with how embarrassed and nervous you feel, lips reaching into thin air, but at the same time, colliding against a surface you believe could be his mouth.

Your hands hold his head in place through the fabric of his hood, and he can feel your thumbs rubbing softly against what could be considered his cheeks in a soothing motion when you press further and then back away, smiling softly at him.

There are no words to say, it's unnecessary at this moment when the question has been answered.

Omen caresses your face with his claws, and he feels you shiver and sigh, closing your eyes and leaning into his touch. 

Leaning in, he decides to take what he wants from you, and you gladly let him have his way with you, whispering his name the moment his hands disappear under your clothes and smoke embraces your whole body.

Inside the closed shop, no one is witness of the way Omen loves you that night, with his whole being and emotions only he dreamed of being real and is now a reality.

—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—

Gekko: Freedom. [An acquaintance]

Throughout his life, Mateo has always been considered a friendly person. 

Conversations here and there, making friends down the street, enamouring the grandladies next door who always gush over his cuteness and kindness as a little kid.

He's always been popular amongst the people surrounding him; a star shining brightly amongst others, a leader, a role model. Mateo is everything and all mothers wish for their kids to be when they grow up, for people to have as a friend, and for girls to want in their boyfriends.

But for him, none of it is of importance. It’s irrelevant and pointless to praise him non-stop when he believes nothing of what they say.

Mateo only wishes he could be freed from all of this pressure and simply live his life as a normal teenage boy.

Having been born and raised by a single mother has been tough, with the many expectations put onto his shoulders and many accomplishments he felt the need to fulfill, Mateo never had the time to discover himself in this world but to wear the shoes of someone who is predetermined to succeed.

They expected him to be smart; so he would study non-stop, missing hours of sleep and time to be playing outside just to focus on his grades and reach the top results. They expected him to be kinder; to always share his things, to share his food, to share his money until he was broke just to please the rest of the world. 

They expected many things he despised, but Mateo never said no.

It was like a curse he self-inflicted and didn’t know how to get rid of, and as much as he tries to lash out or simply think to rebel and live like he wants, the nagging feeling of guilt eats him alive before he acts.

Giving up and accepting the façade he's created is the easiest path. He will stop struggling, he will come to terms with what he's chosen and just bear with it.

Mateo will have to live chained to this fate.

But then, he met his little crew. 

The one time he decides to do something for himself, he gets wrapped into the biggest catastrophe that has ever been; affecting everything and everyone in the world until there is nothing but himself and his new friends.

The shift they cause is what makes him decide to start being selfish.

They say when you meet death face-on you can never become the person you used to be. In his case, it meant leaving behind the cocoon of someone who pleased everyone in his surroundings and was finally feeling the metaphorical chains break him free.

Mateo breathes deeply when he comes to that realization, and it almost feels like the first time doing it.

And it gets better.

Because through Reyna is how he meets you.

You are stunning, amazing, funny, gorgeous—he’s running out of words to describe you!

Shaking his hand for the first time, he knows it has to be you. The one to complete his puzzle, the one to fill that empty space of his new life.

Mateo falls in love with you right there and then.

He never believed to have strong feelings for anything in life nor desires that he deeply wanted for himself except freedom— but you made him change his perspective as soon as you came into his life.

It was as if a door had been unlocked and all the suppressed emotions bursted without control, clouding his mind and getting overwhelmed with what he was feeling until there were no other thoughts but you.

You were the contender of his affections and desires now, and Mateo, in his sick twisted way of thinking, thought that you will have to belong to him as well.

Just like he claimed his crew to be his, despite them being sentient, just like he claimed back his life, and just like he got the courage to toss away everyone who crossed his path and denied him the opportunity to evolve into someone better—he is now going to claim you as his.

Nevermind that you had a partner already, nevermind Reyna eyeing him carefully after the exchange of pleasantries, dubious and concerned because of his unstable emotions; his focus was you, and you alone.

Blame it on the world, blame it on Kingdom, fuck, blame it on him for going to this lengths to make sure he had a chance.

Mateo has killed people before. 

The Valorant protocol trains them to have impeccable aim and be smart about their actions, so it is no wonder he could kill your partner in one clean shot the next day and hide the body for no one to find.

Many secrets bloom from his action, but no regrets were found in his eerie smile nor empty hazel eyes when Reyna confronted him about it. Mateo had the upper hand, because he knew she wouldn't say a word—because despite being a cold-hearted person and having her judgment intact, she has a soft spot for him, and Mateo plans to abuse that for his goal.

It comes in handy with everything he taught himself when you look for someone to hold onto, crying and sobbing when your partner goes missing. 

Mateo acts empathetic, soothing your cries and assuring you he would never leave your side until your partner is found. He promises to do everything to help, and to keep you company as you try to heal from the sudden disappearance.

And it takes you a long time to move on. Deciding whether your partner abandoned you or simply decided to be gone from the world, Mateo's words bring a smile to your face every time he tries to cheer you up.

Flirting, teasing, and keeping you on the edge of your seat with his actions is his way to test the waters.

Mateo is eloquent when it comes to words and his ways of gaslighting. To make you trust him slowly and not only by baseless talking—is a long process, a tedious one where he needs to make sure everything is going according to what he needs and not be rash on his decisions.

He compliments everything you do, from what you wear to what you do. He’s always there whenever you need company or someone to talk to. 

Mateo brings years of experience in entertaining and being the good guy to make you like him; it’s genius how polished he has that persona that it looks natural.

Sometimes, when he feels the need to know the progress in the relationship he’s trying to build, he becomes bolder and breaches the friendly distance in which you keep him at. 

Mateo corners you in the hallway once, hovering over your mouth with inches apart, breaths intermingling and lips barely touching until he suddenly pulls away. He acts flustered and nervous, apologizing and making excuses as he escapes from the situation. But then he sees you from a distance, tip of your fingers touching your lips as he sees you shaking on the spot, too shy to move away or say something.

It’s like he’s toying with you on purpose, you think nervously. Face warm and a hammering heart threatening to burst through your chest. Mateo loves teasing you, but this has gotten to a point where he’s starting to slip and become desperate.

Because there is so much a man like him can tolerate. And the tension between you two, sexual tension that has him trembling and absconding in his quarters to find some relief in the pleasure you provoke him by just being there, is starting to make him lose his mind.

When you breach the barrier by throwing yourself at him one day, having enough of his constant teasing, and you fall onto your bed, climbing on top of him and kissing him with fervor and heated passion, he knows he’s won.

Mateo reciprocates with the same sentiment, drowning in your lips and taste, with his heart full and desires fulfilled. He holds you tightly and without restrain, hands roaming your body and touching and taking.

As clothes fall to the floor and your warm and naked bodies intermingle in a dance of passion, you confess your love to him between moans and gasps. 

Only when Mateo releases inside you, feeling the pulse of your walls fluttering around his cock as you reach your orgasm, does he allow himself to cry and kiss you all over as he confesses his love for you too.

This is what it means to have freedom.

—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—

Cypher: Family. [A chess piece]

In his culture, family is the most important aspect in their lives. The ones to trust unconditionally and love infinitely, and those who will reciprocate his feelings throughout their whole lives with no regrets.

To Amir, his grandfather was his world.

An angry old cranky man was he, beating the crap out of intruders who dared disrespect the La Amari family and protecting what little land they still held against Kingdom's agents.

His grandfather had no powers nor weapons for the enemy to fear him—but it was of no need for this battle. La Amari's grandfather was a well-respected person that his own people feared him sometimes; because he gave what no one else could: hope, enough of a little spark to inspire others into being active in the fight against Kingdom and their thirst for power.

That alone was dangerous, and it kept Kingdom's agents on a tight leash to not cause a riot.

“Think about what will make you lose, instead of what will make you win. To know what’s at stake is a better fuel to incentive you to protect it”, is a piece of advice Amir will never forget.

And it was the last thing his grandfather taught him.

It was devastating losing him at such a young age when he had a future to hold onto, people to take and many to guide. But Amir accepted its fate, because no one can defy death and its destiny; continuing living his life by those beliefs and advice and not disregarding everything he’s learnt.

Then he met Nora. He fell deeply in love, and had his first child. Every decision made, every move he took on life was calculated and thought before accomplishing it. Amir believed he had everything solved and paved until his very end, but nothing went according to his plan.

He was never able to figure out the plays of death, always one step ahead of him, and once again taking away everything that was important to him in one swift move.

Death wasn’t the culprit to his many misfortunes, though.

Imagine his surprise when he found out the same people who took Nora’s life were the same gang who murdered his grandfather many years ago. And later on, destroyed the rest of the lineage of La Amari.

The whole crime scene reeked from their trademark, unable to hold back and destroying everything on their way. It was a bloody mess, and the images of his family mangled and dead will remain grafted inside his brain for the rest of his life.

Amir believes that’s the moment where everything changed for him.

La Amari disappeared from the earth, he made sure of that, his family name was dead now and scrubbed from records. The only thing that will carry the memory is him, Cypher, in search of vengeance and answers.

But with time, everything changes its course of action and now Cypher is involved in what could be considered some sort of organization to save the world.

Funny how things evolve.

He meets new people, he learns a few things here and there, he gets fond of some kids, genius fellas they are, a techie and a walking bomb—Cypher takes everything in with open arms, but never without the advice resonating throughout his brain like an echo.

Think about what will make you lose.

Like a chant, he repeats the same sentence when meeting new agents or when deployed to missions. Cypher is the first to come up with solutions, the first to come with counterplans and always a step ahead of the enemy.

And then, like a rock thrown into a well, a disturbance is found.

You are a weird one, he thinks when meeting you for the first time, all smiles and sparky soul.

Jumping and talking non-stop, always a little ray of sunshine to the youngsters but annoying punk for the seniors.

It always seems to go on tangents when speaking with you. Cypher likes things concise and straight to the point, so it's obvious to him that he doesn't find you amusing in the slightless.

Cypher doesn't care for you at first, treating you with less than affection and little patience when dealing with you. You are nothing in his life, just another agent and someone else he needs to keep his eye on.

And then, you matter, in more ways than he anticipated.

Because the moment the anniversary of his wife and kid's death comes around, Cypher spirals into a pit of depression he hasn't felt since the incident, digging himself into his own tomb inch by inch as punishment and blaming himself for everything that hurted his loved ones.

And like a star shining in a dark pit, beckoning him with the warmth and gentle touch, is when everything goes to shit.

Because you, being the smart cookie you are, sympathized with him the moment you saw him break down and closed off to the world in panic.

You are not Nora, you don’t even resemble her in any aspect whatsoever, but his frivolous and conflicted brain twists your actions, your pure intentions, into something that he desperately thinks he needs.

Comfort.

Cypher sees in you an anchor to take advantage of, and you are so unaware of his intentions, so innocent and flustered so easily by his words, that you simply follow whatever he needs you to do.

An obedient little fella, a sweet young adult ready to help whoever needs it without regarding their own self. You follow him like a puppy inside the protocol, you shine brighter when he compliments you, you are so thirsty for his attention he never leaves you hanging with anticipation.

Cypher accepts then that you are what he needs now to fill his own wish and hole in his heart until he takes care of the bigger matters.

But to have you, he needs to think clearly; to own you, he needs to make his moves smartly.

Finding information about your background, your life, the people you mingle with and the man you were obligated into marrying is easy. Is like you're leaving this all for him to find on purpose, is like you know he's doing this to get you, and you're helping him.

And damn him! A surprise is what he finds amongst your files! A family member of the gang who destroyed his life, the gang who were hired by Kingdom to erase La Amari's lineage and conquer the little lands of Morocco. You! You were the key to everything to finally finish what his grandfather started many years ago!

Cypher is joyful, ecstatic, and so eager to take everything from them and, as a prize, keep you to himself.

And when he has everything he needs, he begins his game.

It’s so easy. Breaking down their walls, breaking their security and their lackeys, is like a child's game when he realizes this is not a challenge.

Like chess, his moves are smart and calculated, and everything crumbles in front of their eyes.

Think about what will make you lose.

He makes the first move, killing the white's pawn.

Your friends are the first to fall. One by one, they die by his hands and his own methodological mind games to gain information regarding you and your family.

They plead for forgiveness, they ask him to leave you alone, but Cypher is quick to silence them forever.

Humming to himself, he moves his bishop to kill the white's knight.

That little husband of yours put up a real struggle. It was not an easy task to have them under control, nor make them give you up as he snarls and fights to get free.

Cypher was taken aback by their loyalty, surprised but eager that this might turn bloodier than he anticipated. 

It’s funny, too, that despite having someone who loves you this deeply, you always look for Cypher. As if this person isn't enough to satisfy you. 

Cornering the white's queen was easy. 

Every obstacle was eliminated. Anything and anyone he considered might cross his path or make the situation difficult for his plans to move forward is no longer a threat to him, nor his objective.

Cypher fixes the pieces to their positions once he's finished, and in turn, clicks on a button of his surveillance set-up. 

The many screens light up with views from the cameras he has around the base and hidden away by simple eyes.

In one of them, he sees you walking down the hallway with quick steps, hurriedly making your way to Cypher's room.

He sees the determination in your expression, the fast pacing of your steps and in less than a minute you are at his door, huffing to catch your breath and eyes wandering around his room.

Your body language says everything he needs to know—from your shuffle in feet and avoidance to look him into his eyes. You are nervous, if not a little shy to confront him about something.

But he is patient, hands resting on his lap and legs crossed, awaiting for your words with eagerness.

“I like you,” you say, approaching him slowly and nervously rubbing your arms. “I like you a lot, Cypher.”

Unaware of his affairs, you inch closer and kneel in front of him, hands holding onto his and looking into his eerie blue eyes.

“Will you take me?” you ask.

Cypher smiles under his mask, a finger under your chin and gently caressing your lower lips with his thumb.

“But of course, my dear. You are mine now.”

He has won.

—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—

Miks (Song). [A rave]

Adrijan believes he has everything figured out by this point.

With the radiant powers he’s been bestowed upon, and the energy of his people that surround him all the time, he knows for sure nothing can go wrong nor amiss with how things play out.

All he has: friends, family, a community; it’s what anyone could ask for and more. They always reassure him and say how blessed they are to have him to rely on. Their pillar, their hero, their most trusted friend—

If only he wasn’t getting fed up with the good guy act, he’d have been more than happy to hear such words. It starts to get tiring when he isn’t able to maintain a grin nor the hype at the raves he hosts; few do notice, he’s come to realize, but never say a thing. 

Why would they, when they literally feed off his energy to keep them entertained? Most of that crowd doesn’t look after him nor his own vibes. They all are selfish and intolerable, sometimes he wonders why he still mingles with those people.

It gets to a point where Adrijan starts to detach himself from what’s considered normal behaviour—or normal under the umbrella of social status. Unaware of his own faults and defects, it’s easier to blame others instead of admitting he has a problem too; however, it shows in the way it affects him psychologically.

The shift is not obvious at first. It starts slow, and with little things no one would bat an eye to. 

His manner of speech becomes unstable and slightly aggressive, the words he uses are no longer mindful nor thought of before being said; even his actions seem to change when he isn’t careful and becomes, more often than not, violent to things that he has no control over.

The people don’t seem to mind, for they are just like him, if not worse sometimes. If he were to be placed next to that sort of crowd, he would be seen like an angel instead of the amalgamation of personalities he has become.

Ollie and Klara were lucky to have come across him when his emotions were somewhat stable and was acting friendly after his sets were played at a local rave. 

With the adrenaline running high, and the good energy pumping through his veins, he lent them an ear after discovering he was a radiant just like a few of their comrades.

Despite the atmosphere not being the most adequate to handle a conversation about an ongoing war, fighting against agents of their mirror selves, and the possibility of their own world collapsing because of the radianate, Miks was more than ready to reject their proposal to help them out.

He was sure he didn’t want to become another pillar for a group of people who meant nothing to him, even when a lot was at stake.

What contradicted his decision was meeting you a second after they begged him to consider it. Their words were lost in the background with the music as his green eyes focused and locked onto your form approaching them.

You were beautiful. 

Probably the most beautiful being he has seen in his entire life and has come across his insignificant life.

Singing along to the music blasting through the stereos, arms thrown over Ollie and Klara’s shoulders, you smiled at him, asking for his name, and he was a goner.

The instability of his emotions was kept under control when he finally joined the protocol and was asked to live with them for better management. He found no issue as long as you were there too, and that’s probably why no one suspected him of being…dangerous.

Miks falls in love hard and fast. Like a lighting bolt striking his heart and filling a void he never realized he possessed.

He’s not ashamed to admit it to anyone who asks despite their worrying glances and constant questions. He is proud of the love he holds for you, and wishes you could see it too. 

The questions come from a place of constant worry for you, though. They notice. They see it. The obsession he has for you is not healthy.

But every time you were on the team, success was guaranteed. When everything is at high stake, those moments are when his love and emotions are in tune for one goal: to protect you. 

Nevermind that Miks sacrifice absolutely everyone if it means you come back alive and well. In the battlefield, no one else matters but his beloved, and everyone has learned that they can’t fully rely on him, except for you, perhaps.

Miks lives by it. Lives by you and your words of encouragement when he does a good job. Lives by your feather touch and stolen glances when you cross paths. He is so enamoured by everything about you and it shows in every single action of his that is almost pathetic. It gets to the point everyone in the protocol knows of his devotion to you, and only you, that he is seen as the loverboy whose darling doesn’t seem to realize he is in love with her.

It hurts, though. 

It hurts him deeply that he is such a coward for never saying it outright to your face that you continue with your life as if his love meant nothing. He likes to think you are doing it on purpose to stir the fire consuming him slowly; to keep him on the edge of a seat and simply waiting for him to be unable to take it anymore and explode.

It’s cruel, but it excites him.

But there is so much a man like him can handle as he keeps his true nature bottled up.

The ticking bomb reaches its limit on a rave he hosts.

Sets are ready, the equipment works wonderfully and the crowd chants his name as if he were a god. He is the main show for the night, and makes sure to be as handsome as he can get for you.

Ollie and Klara weren’t able to make it. But it’s not like he cares much, cuz’ as long as you are there, nothing else matters. 

Amongst the crowd of people who gathered around his set up, you were dancing and jumping to the beat of the songs he played. You were all smiles and laughter, singing and moving with the rest of the sea of people. Miks winks at you as he maneuvers a vinyl before hooking it up to the recorder. You cover a smile behind your hand and wink at him playfully, his heart soars.

The happiness doesn’t last for long. For a fraction of a second, just a moment where he makes a change of songs and a few of the crew distracts him, he loses sight of you.

The low lights and heated ambient doesn’t help the anxiety skyrocketing when he can’t find you anywhere with his eyes. The show keeps going though. Miks tries to maintain calm and keep the crowd eager and energetic. His eyes flit around the space all the time, minutes pass by, and then, finally, he spots you in the far back.

Making out with a friend of his. 

Like a broken record, everything in his brain halts and he freezes upon seeing the betrayal play in front of his very eyes.

And all he sees is red.

There is no one who doubts his intentions when he speaks with the crew to cede his space to the next DJ earlier than intended, and steps down in a hurry to make his way towards you.

His blood rushes to his ears, his hands ball into fists, and his eyes hold a fury and vengeance no one has witnessed in him before as he avoids the bodies of people still dancing, unaware of the hell that has broken loose. If he hasn’t taken his gun out it was only because he is still trying to maintain appearances despite wanting to put a bullet through his head.

The anger grows tenfold when a few of his group of friends try to stop him with barks of laughter, trying to appease him as he snatches his arm from their hold. One of them tells him to let his friend have his fun for a bit longer before they take turns with you. They offer him a spot as well, too blind to realize the anger residing in his chest.

He pushes the guy away and goes to grab his friend by the back of his shirt to peel him away from you. Your body crumbles onto the floor with a loud thud.

Aware is not a word he could use to describe you right now—disoriented and lost is how you look, with the eyes bloodshot and disheveled clothes, looking up at him in confusion as you can’t seem to process what’s going on.

The relief he feels when he realizes you’ve been drugged and weren’t doing this out of your own volition is gratifying. Oh, Miks knew you couldn’t betray him like this! How foolish of him to even have considered it in the first place.

Only when he secures your safety inside his room backstage, he goes back to the group and drags them away from the rave with light conversation and empty friendly smiles, promising them a more exciting adventure.

Miks takes his time with each of them by denying any way of escape or salvation. One bullet per limb, he makes sure everyone has one on at least one leg to ensure they won’t escape before reaching for more bullets and reloading his sheriff mumbling a happy tune.

He only gags them after because their cries have started to annoy him, and ties them up to trees surrounding him in a circle; away from prying eyes but close enough so the music can muffle their pained screams. 

“A demonstration, if you may,” he grins, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

With his sonic vibrations he covers one of the guy's ears and emits a high pitched wavesound that has his victim writhe in pain until the orifices begins bleeding. What follows next are his shoulders, gathering up pressure into his palms and slamming them down hard until the bones crack and pop under his touch with a reverberating bass. 

The rest don’t take long to realize Adrijan is going for torture without an once of pity as he cleans his hands on what used to be his friend’s clothes. He goes for every spot that might make them suffer the most, experimenting and toying with them, laughing brightly alongside their cries and screams for mercy.

Each one of them meets the same slow and most painful punishment he can deliver by the end. He hopes anyone misfortuned enough to commit the same crimes knows that Miks will fight and murder for your sake, no matter the consequences.

By the time he is done, what used to be his group of friends are nothing more than a pile of flesh and broken bones, bleeding out slowly and life no longer clinging to any of them.

When he goes back to you, proud of his actions and more than eager to take you away, you welcome him with a sob and pained cries, burying your face into the crook of his neck as you ask him to never leave you alone again. 

Miks hugs you tighter, face burying into your hair as he inhales your scent and promises in hushed whispers that he belongs to you, and only you.

When you hold his bloody face with tenderness and lean up to kiss him, soft and gently, Adrijan admits to himself he would do this again if it meant protecting you.

Your tongue connects to the head of his cock, slicking it with your spit before sucking him and bobbing your head up and down as your hand grabs him by the base, tongue toying on the underside of his cock and mapping out every vein decorating it. He swallows back a groan when he feels the back of your throat, thrusting his hips to feel it again. When he hears you choking and gagging on his dick, he can’t help his trembling legs closing around your shoulder as he helplessly tugs at the bounds on his wrist.

The first thought running through his mind right now is how good you look between his legs, naked, and burning him from the inside with those heavy red eyes of yours glowing in the dimly lit room while you suck him off.

The second thing is how badly he wants to cum; and if it lands on your face, the better, that's just an extra to make one of his fantasies true.

You've deprived him from his orgasm for far too long; toying with him, edging him with no means of end, he cannot fathom waiting any longer with how fast he feels his climax approaching again.

But the moment you see him about to break, you snatch your hand away, a malicious smile painting your features.

The makeshift gag at his mouth stops any attempt of begging for you to keep going. Tears gather at the corner of his eyes, and Gekko grunts in frustration, squirming under your weight and your burning gaze with no success of mercy.

“Look at you,” you whisper. The tip of your fingers run over the flushed head of his cock, biting your lower lip to stop a giggle when it twitches under your touch and the pre-cum rolls down the slit. “So pretty for me, Gekko, such a good boy.”

His moans are muffled behind the cloth on his mouth, and you cannot help but want to hear what he has to say after torturing him to fulfill your own desires.

Leaning over, you make a show of sliding your body against his as slow as possible, enjoying his full attention and the neediness he obviously has for you. When you take the gag from his mouth, he tries to shove his face to reach for your lips, whining when you dodge and sit on his thigh with your hands caressing his chest and flicking on his nipples to see him squirm.

“Please…” he mutters, breathing heavily. He seems about to cry if you don't touch him anytime soon. “Please let me cum, I want to cum…”

Rolling your hips against his cock, you watch closely his lower lip tremble and his arms fight against the bounds attaching him to your bed frame when he feels his shaft slide in between your lower lips. You repeat the motion, Mateo gasps and thrusts his hips to feel the slickness coming from your pussy.

“Please!” He begs, groaning your name. “Please, I'll do anything! Just, let me—”

Grabbing the base of his cock, you don't let him finish the sentence when you slide him inside your cunt swiftly, cutting him off and making his words slurred to end up on a moan.

You gasp in pleasure feeling him stretch you inch by inch until he is fully sheathed and pulsing against your walls. A whole shiver washes over you when the tip of his dick brushes against your most sensitive spot, squirming on top of him with the need to feel it again.

Gekko's tears roll down his cheeks, panting heavily and flushing with embarrassment when you wink at him and lick your lips in anticipation. The act on itself is so filthy that it does nothing but heighten his want to pleasure you above anything else.

To be reduced to this mess, tied to a bed, gagged and being controlled makes him shy, never believing himself to be into the dominant and submissive roles. But you make it easier on him, enjoyable to the point Gekko would let you do anything to him if you asked.

“You're so warm…” he mutters, eyelids heavy and pointedly observing where you're connected. He thrusts his hips, to test the waters and see if he can rile you up as payback. “So tight, ngh—”

Gekko sees you biting your lip, restraining your sounds and hands holding his hips down to stop him from moving. Your stare hardens when he whines, and a hand flies to his neck, fingers wrapping around his throat to put some pressure and using it as a leverage to lean in, cock sliding out slowly until the head remains inside you.

“This alright, Gekko?” You ask, squeezing his throat softly. He nods, gasping. 

“Please, yes.” Grunting, he does his best to stay still and not give in into his wishes to thrust his cock back.

“So polite.” Without further words, you slam your hips back down, hand squeezing his throat softly.

Gekko gasps when you start bouncing on his dick, feeling the tight knot start forming on his lower belly rapidly, and burning him with the desire of release.

The plush of your thighs wraps around his waist to keep you in place when your desperation gets the better of you and begins accelerating the pace, choking him harder and throwing your head to the side while moaning out his name and maintaining eye contact throughout the whole exchange.

Gekko's groans get cut off when the pressure you apply makes the air stop circulating. It turns out he seems to like the rough treatment more than he anticipated, feeling his dick twitch inside your velvety walls when the suffocation gets to his head, heightening the pleasure and any other sensation coursing through his body. 

“C'mon, Gekko,” your urge, bouncing eagerly now with the promise of a good show. “Hold on a little more. Be a good boy.”

Those words make him tremble with excitement, bucking his hips alongside yours and struggling against the binds unconsciously.

Gekko was drooling by this point, tongue peeking out and eyes rolled to the back of his head while being constantly stimulated by the suffocation and fucking his brains out.

The slam of your hips is constant and wild, feeling his pelvis rub against your clit and the head of his cock brush against your g-spot everytime he thrust deeply.

The warmness spreading from your lower belly rushes faster than you anticipate, bursting from the overwhelming pleasure of seeing him so vulnerable and his groans echoing within your room that your orgasm washes over you in waves of exhilarating bliss.

“Oh, Gekko!” You moan, hips still bouncing. “So good, baby, ah— so good.”

Gekko preens from your words and the ecstasy shown in your expression. It’s enough for the tight knot to finally burst and be undone under your touch and sounds. 

He cums heavily, spurs after spurs of his semen decorating the insides of your walls and hips stuttering while he rides his climax with delight.

Your hands weaken in grip when you cum all over his shaft, freeing his neck and making him able to breathe, whimpering shyly from climaxing on your words alone—he was getting lightheaded, dizzy, but that didn't lessen how much he loved being choked and how much pleasure racks his body with the aftershock of his orgasm.

You're still riding him slowly, overstimulation coursing through your body but unable to stop; addicted to the way Gekko's cock feels inside you.

Once you're full of his cum and Gekko begs you to stop with a quivering voice, too sensitive he might start crying, is when you decide to lean in and unbind the rope that you tied him with, dick slipping out of your pussy with a lewd sound.

When he is finally free, Gekko's arms round your torso and gently turn the tables, laying you down on the mattress while he hovers over you with his face flushed and an enamored expression painting his features.

He seems tired, if not a little exhausted physically and mentally, but he makes sure none of it gets in his way when he leans down and locks your lips in a soft kiss.

The feeling of his sweaty and naked body on top of yours, caging you and hands caressing your sides gently, as if you were the one who needed comfort, makes your heart throb with warmness and aching for his attention.

Gekko deepens the kiss, mouths slothing together and sliding one against the other sensually in a dance of passion. He sticks his tongue on your mouth, toying with yours and mapping out every crevice for him to remember. He cannot help but groan with excitement when your hands hold him around his shoulder and you scratch the back of his hair softly.

When air gets necessary, Gekko reluctantly lets go of your lips. There is adoration swimming in his eyes as he tucks a hair behind your ears.

“Are you okay?” you ask, thumb running on his lower lip.

Gekko nods, “Just tired,” he replies. His voice sounds a little hoarse, “I loved it.”

You smile, Gekko swoons. 

“How about you?” he asks, a little nervous. “Did…did you like it?”

Humming, you nod, looking deeply into his eyes. Gekko's breath gets caught on his throat when you lean in and kiss his lips softly. 

“It was good,” kissing him again, you sigh into his mouth before laying down onto the mattress. “I enjoyed it.”

Deep into the night, Gekko watches you fall asleep rather quickly. 

Despite you taking control over him and the sex, you seeked shelter and comfort in him when it was over; it was rather cute. Your head was snuggled under his chin and right above his heart, sleeping peacefully and clinging to him like a cat—it makes his heart race with excitement.

He was holding onto you quite tightly, one hand soothingly running over your back and the other holding your hand laying on his chest.

There is silence, but he doesn't find it haunting like usual.

No nightmares, no headaches, just blissful peace and a hammering heart inside his ribcage; emotions swelling up and excitement coursing through his veins. The image of your face is enough to keep the thoughts at bay, smitten to the point he doesn't really want to think about anything else but what has transpired this night.

You snuggle up closer, hugging him tightly, and keep on sleeping.

Gekko sighs dreamily, squeezing your hand.

He won't think about tomorrow nor how this will affect the professional aspect of your relationship. He will indulge in this moment for as long as he can, even if it breaks his heart by the end of it all.

—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—

You wake up alone and cold on the bed the next morning.

The covers are hiding your naked body, tucked away gently by your companion, but no signs of him in the near vicinity. When you look around the room, you find there are only your clothes thrown over the floor and your shades safely laying on top of your desk where you left it last night.

“Gekko?” you call out. Sitting on the bed, you try once again, “Are you there?”

No one answers.

There is a beat. Then two. You ignore the sudden ache in your chest and sigh to yourself. You stand from the bed to pick up the mess and, on the way, your sorrow from the outcome of the situation at a leisure pace.

It’s not like it was unexpected—this scenario has played out before, familiar yet this time it carried the faint weight of disappointment. It hurts, you can’t lie to yourself, and wounds your pride after being blinded by Cypher’s words for the apparent interest Gekko had on you and for believing him without questioning the reasoning.

Who would have guessed Gekko was that kind of person?

Perhaps you had some fault here, too. A conversation never took place like you planned beforehand, and since he’s been so adamant in ignoring you until last night, this shouldn’t be so surprising.

‘I should have talked to him.’ is what you think. 

No matter, Gekko seems to have made the choice for the two of you.

In less than twenty minutes you shower, trying to scrub away his essence from your body, and dress in the usual gear and fit before a mission. You take your shades from the nightstand, watching your own reflection with a heavy heart before slipping them on. With your luck, you hope this is enough to conceal part of your emotions behind it if anyone were to look too closely.

In good news, your schedule seems to be packed for the next week or so on a long mission to Pearl. And until the spike is safe and secured, you won’t have to cross paths with Gekko again.

Or at least until the disappointment vanishes and is replaced by something else.

There are still a couple of hours to kill before you set off with a team. Since Brimstone hasn’t assembled one for this specific mission, and until you get a notice, you think wasting time seeking the culprit of your demise might be a good idea instead of the few chances of running into Gekko on the base.

Cypher is tinkering with his tech at Killjoy's lab, humming to himself a tune you're familiar with and unaware of the turmoil brewing inside your head. His back is facing you, and you are more than tempted to kick his chair off before he realizes you’re there, but hold the childish impulse at bay.

You nod at Chamber who is sitting at the far back fixing one of his weapons. He gives one of his usuals grins, calling out your name in a weird tone before he goes back to his activity. 

“So you've come to me,” he says without looking at you. With a grumble, you kick the chair anyway. “What now, the sex wasn't good?”

“Shut up, Cypher.” You sigh, “I’m not here to talk about that.”

He sighs, leaving his tool at the table and crossing his arms to look at you.

“Yes?” he asks.

“You were wrong.” Sitting across from him, you slump on the table with a frown. You take off your shades to appear more intimidating but Cypher doesn’t react. “He isn’t in love with me.”

Shrugging, he goes back to his work. “If you believe so, then who am I to contradict you?”

“Cy, you encouraged me to confront him about it!” Cypher sees you whine, which he finds funny. “And now I’m feeling devastated for reasons I don’t want to think about.”

“You understand what you're telling me is a conversation you could easily have with him to clear your doubts, am I right?” Cypher finishes with his tripwires and tosses them to a bag. “Why are you upset over this? Weren’t you the one who wasn’t interested in him in the first place? I fear there is something else going on with you, dear.”

“I'm—I don't know?” Cypher cocks his head to the side, you know he is having fun watching you lose your mind over something so mundane. “I was never interested in these…kinds of affairs. God, I never thought I’d be involved with anyone to begin with, let alone have sex and develop an attachment from just one night.”

“Is it really that?” he asks, “Love at first sight is unlikely to be your situation. But love when having sex for the first time? Was his dick really that good? Should I ask for a try myself?”

Scrubbing your face with your hands, you sigh in frustration, “Cypher, don't be a moron now, please.”

He chuckles, raising his arms in surrender, “Listen, before our talk, it would have never crossed your mind to be interested in the kid as much as you do now. What changed? For starters, you don’t love him, do you?”

“I don’t.” is your reply, and you’re certain of it. 

“Okay. You're interested in him now, aren’t you?”

You nod, “I find him attractive, he’s sweet, and you should get a piece of that ass for sure.”

“Oh? Charitable now, aren’t we? Maybe I will.”

“Don’t be stupid, I was kidding.” 

“Dear, we’re diverting from the main problem here.” Cypher stores his tech onto a box and motions you to follow after him. “Shall we continue somewhere else?”

Standing up, you both follow the path from the lab to his room.

Only the echo of your steps alongside his are enough to fill in the silence, a little uncomfortable of continuing this conversation and to where it might lead. Despite this being your idea to sort out your thoughts more easily and have Cypher as your middle ground, you fear that this…one time thing with Gekko might have messed you up more than you intended to.

Cypher pats your back, “I can see you thinking way too hard, relax.”

“I don’t think I want to know what will happen with Gekko now.” You admit, sighing tiredly. “I’m getting overwhelmed by this situation when there were supposed to be no feelings involved.”

“Was that established before you had sex or after?”

“What do you mean by established?” you feign innocence, avoiding his eyes.

“Did you talk about your non-romantic feelings or what you expected from him before the sex?”

Rolling your eyes, you try to act that you are mulling over the question. Cypher is no idiot, though. He immediately catches on that you did everything but use your brain before you got involved with Gekko. Certain things become clear, and his irritation grows with it.

“Aren't you a grown woman?” Cypher mocks, “You aren't a ten years old with a crush in middle school to be acting so stupidly.”

“I don't have a crush on him.”

“I don't believe you, and I know for a fact you don't believe yourself either.”

“You're always so cryptic with your words. Just tell me what you really think.” 

Cypher sighs loudly, watching you from the corner of his eyes and observing your hands fidget while you await. He takes pity, albeit reluctantly. It must be hard to not have control and be stranded on unknown territory when it comes to emotions. But he blames this entirely on you for not acting with your head.

“I believe you've contradicted yourself many times today.” he begins, and you seem ready to argue back but he raises a hand to stop you. “You came to me crying about how I tricked you into thinking Gekko is interested in you, which I stand by is true. And now you are saying feelings weren't supposed to be involved in the first place, but still decided to bed him without thinking where it might lead to.”

The hallways are empty when Cypher stops you.

“What is it, then?” He asks, “Pursue the kid, or simply treat it like a one-night stand. What do you want?”

“I don't know, Cy, I don't know what to do.”

The sentinel sighs. If only you were to see his expression…

“My dear, I’m going to be very harsh with you for a moment, and I hope you forgive me. If I don’t say this, we will be going over and over the same thing.”

Nodding, you cross your arms.

“You only confronted Gekko last night because you had the upper hand,“ he begins. “Gekko likes you, and you know that. If anything were to go wrong in that conversation, you would not be hurt by the end of it because he was unaware of what you felt for him, that's why you had no issues in seeking him out. There were going to be no consequences.”

“That’s not—!”

Cypher shuts you with a raised hand. “And now the roles have been reversed because you agreed to share an intimate moment with him. Your feelings are being jeopardized because you think he is the one who played you and don't know how to feel about someone taking control over this matter.” Huffing in amusement, Cypher nods to himself. “I think I got a pretty good read on you.”

And he does. Despite not giving in and accepting it out loud, you are, to a fault, very controlling when it comes to aspects of your life.

This is why last night's dynamic worked well with Gekko. He let himself be taken by you and followed your orders without hesitation,—and you loved it, enjoyed being with him. 

And now that you have your feelings compromised, like Cypher has said, the probability of being weak in front of Gekko does nothing but induce fear in yourself.

“You're overthinking again.” 

You give a dry laugh, “Can't help it.” 

“Give the kid some credit, dear, talk to him.”

You resume walking, going down the long hallway in silence as Cypher lets you ponder over his words. Only when the common room comes into vision does your steps slow to a halt and Gekko is seen inside talking animatedly with Harbor and Neon.

The thing about that specific room is the clear glasses for windows they've installed, giving you both a full picture of what might be happening inside the room without being too nosy. Anyhow, the sight of Gekko acting so carefree and having fun makes a little bit of anger come forward. 

Your confusion shifts to fury instantly, and Cypher notices in the way your hand grabs his arm with a strength that makes him wince. The next second he doesn’t even have the chance to say a word when you jank him forward, using his body as a shield to cover you from their eyes as you escape.

The attempt goes to shit the moment Killjoy’s voice echoes in the hallway. She’s running down towards you with a grin and a binder in hand and completely ruining your cover.

If these were any other circumstances, you would be more than happy to see her. But dread is the only thing consuming you when the noise inside the common room comes to a sudden stop when she reaches you both.

“Brimstone is calling for the meeting.” She announces. “There has been a shutdown of our network so the devices won’t work until I reboot it. For now, I'm just a messenger.” 

“Okay.” You nod with a sharp motion. A bead of sweat rolls down your temple in anxiousness.

Killjoy breathes out tiredly, turning to the windows and waving at the people inside. “You too, Gekko! You have ten minutes to arrive!”

You hear a quiet agreement from inside the room. Cypher almost voices his pain when your hold on his arm tightens, listening to someone’s footsteps exiting the common room.

“I have to go and find Viper now. See you there!” With that, Killjoy leaves, jogging away.

Whether it was Gekko or not the one approaching you two, you decide is not of your concern and drag Cypher away with you to the meeting room. The poor man yells in protest now, feeling tingles on the muscles, but you are too stubborn to let him go.

Gekko watches you walk away without any sign of acknowledgment as he stops. A hand hovers in the air where you were previously standing, and he can’t help but feel hurt by your dismissal.

He was under the impression that the breach that separated you two was gone the moment you saved him back at Icebox; sacrificing everything to bring him back home and something so precious as your powers to ensure you got back safely.

When you kissed him, Gekko assured himself this is it. This was the act that settled everything and put his mind at rest, giving you who he is and more. Unveiling a side of him he was too ashamed to admit or rather, didn’t know he had it in him, and trusting you with it.

Perhaps that was his mistake. To assume things would fall into place by themselves and he would be able to express how much he fancies you without hurting himself in the process.

One night stand, he thinks grimly.

Shouldn't have let his hopes up.

—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—

Brimstone looks beyond exhausted.

There are bags under his eyes, darkened and turning a sickly purple color, alongside his beard that has not been trimmed to give him the clean face he usually wears. His armor is off and so is his cute little red hat, resting above the table and above scattered papers—it’s a sight to behold to see their leader looking beyond the years he actually is.

For the sake of the meeting, and to not look like a mother hen, you hold back the need to reprimand him for the poor care he has taken of himself lately. Only he and Viper know how much work is going on behind the scenes for him to seem so worn down.

Despite the assigned team arriving on time, Brimstone hasn’t said a thing other than a few words of greeting and a grumble under his breath.

Jett is twirling one of her knives with her fingers, Killjoy is reading one of the last reports from a visit to Lotus, and Omen is waiting in silence for the reunion to start.

Gekko is sitting between them around the round table, and to your misfortune, right in front of you. If it weren’t for Cypher next to you, you fear you might have lost your mind.

“Is a week-long mission,” Brimstone’s voice rumbles within the room. Everyone perks up at that. “Killjoy has detected new waves of radianite from Pearl. It’s getting stronger the longer we talk and from what our satellites have picked up, Omega agents are already on their way.”

“Do we have supplies to survive a week on Pearl?” you ask. Brimstone grimaces at your question.

“Barely, and we will be scraping by.” 

Sighing, Brimstone checks a couple of papers and presses a button on the side of the table. 

The screen glass lights up with the map of Pearl projected tridimensional. A site and B site light up in red, “There are provisions to feed the team and weapons to defend the sites and yourselves, as well as ammunition. What is playing against us is the rotations the Omega agents might be doing.”

“Rotation to sites?” Omen asks, confused. “It’s not something we aren’t familiar with.”

Brimstone shakes his head, “No, not site rotation. Team rotations.”

Jett cocks her head to the side, “What do you mean by that?”

“Omega agents will be deploying more than a team of five, apparently. But not all of them might be allowed to go in or else we become a beacon for Kingdom to hunt.” 

The map rotates, and Brimstone signals the Omega's landing site with his pen. “There is a limit to where radiants can wander together without being detected nor looking suspicious. If Kingdom is able to track us down because of the strong centered vitals of radiants, we are all screwed.”

“And it doesn’t benefit them at all.” Omen finishes. Brimstone nods.

“Why don't we do the same thing?” Jett suggests. “Have our pals waiting on the sidelines if things seem to go grim?” 

“We're sending teams to different missions because Pearl is not the only place where radianite has been active and stronger.”

“But you said—”

Brimstone raises a hand, cutting her off. “Your only concern should be Pearl. The other places are for the rest of your teammates to worry about, so focus on what your task is.”

She nods reluctantly, “Of course Brim."

“It’s going to be tiring. We will have to be 24/7 alert and awake to any attempt of attacks and we don’t know what they have planned other than what’s obvious.” 

“I need you to clear up something.” You drum your fingers on the table, “We’re being sent to endure seven days of non-stop vigilance to a place where more than five enemy agents are going to be deployed. How are they going to be able to attack different places if they are also limited in agents like we are? It doesn’t make sense.”

Brimstone watches as your question raises awareness throughout the agents in the room. Killjoy looks at him and just shrugs defeated, leaving it up to him to decide whether to disclose more information or not.

He ends up sighing again, hand brushing over his grey hair as he struggles to find a way to explain and answer your question.

“Bind, Fracture, Breeze and Pearl.” The image of Pearl changes, reducing in size to let the mentioned places appear on the projection. “We don’t know which place is the one under attack nor when it will happen. That's why we are sending you to start protecting them from day one and until the radianite lays dormant once again.”

“It’s a gamble.” Omen realizes. 

“What if we retrieve the spike from them earlier than intended?” Jett chimes in. “We can come back. Or even go help the rest, right?” 

“Don’t treat this mission like the ones we’ve had before.” He warns, “It might not work for them once, twice, even thrice while planting the spike. They won't stop trying until the radianite is taken, so replacements for the spike will be plenty.” Tapping the side of the table again, the imagery turns off, “The radianite will keep increasing in radius power until the week ends. That's why we need to stay longer to ensure it goes inactive."

“Will we be able to rest through the mission?” Gekko inquiries. “We can't defend the sites if we're sleep deprived.”

“You can rest between hours and in turns, but only one person per three hours.”

“Sentinels should be awake throughout the night to cover more space if you will be facing four versus five.” Cypher comments, “They should be the first ones to rest once the first hours of combat are over.”

“That's righ—, Cypher? You are not supposed to be here.” Brimstone takes a double take on his files, and sure enough, he wasn't assigned for Pearl, rather Bind. “We won’t have a meeting until an hour later. I'll have to ask you to leave before then.”

“Oh, Brimstone, how can you ask me to leave my beautiful duo? Separating us is just beyond cruel.” Cypher, in an attempt to piss off Gekko, lays his hand above yours on the table, and squeezes it softly. “Say, I can swap places with Killjoy if she wants. I bet Raze would be more than happy to have her on Bind.”

Gekko does seem a little confused at the actions and, mostly, pissed off. A scowl pulls his lips as he glares at where Cypher is touching you, hands balling into fist from frustration. But of course, you don't see any of this, too irritated by his attitude to truly pay attention to your surroundings.

Brimstone shakes his head, tired and frustrated by his insubordination. Waving his hand away, he dismisses the meeting.

“The jet is ready to go in thirty minutes. The weapons are being loaded in, so don’t worry about that. Do bring clothes and stuff you might need and are only necessary.” Brimstone turns to the wraith, “Omen, please meet up with Sage before you set off with the rest of your team. She needs to talk with you.”

“Understood.” he replies.

“Cypher.”

“Yes?”

“You're still assigned to Bind. I don't need you to start switching places just because you feel like it.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, he gives a weary sigh, “And stop snooping into the system. I never told you Raze was part of your team.”

“Oh, but I was right, wasn’t I?”

Brimstone looks at you tiredly, asking you silently to take him away. Meanwhile, your friend shrugs, whispering a soft 'I tried.' He is very lucky that stares can't kill, or else he would have been pulverized by now.

The agents leave the meeting room one by one, mulling to themselves whatever they might need and simply too absorbed in their thoughts to notice the bickering between you and the sentinel. 

But before you can leave the room, a hand on your wrist stops you dead in your tracks. With a heavy heart and sweaty hands, you turn to see Gekko wearing a nervous expression as he leans in closer.

“Hey.” he says, eyes crinkling when he smiles at you. “Got a minute to talk?”

Words get stuck in your throat, unable to open your mouth and reply like a normal human being. You do try to act as calm as possible and ignore how dreadful this encounter is starting to feel.

But before you can say something, Cypher steps in.

“Sorry, friend, she's mine until you leave.” Cypher grabs your arm and gently tugs you away. Gekko's hand falls to his side clenching on a fist, and an unreadable expression paints his features until you are out of vision. By the time you come into your senses, you are already tucked away in Cypher’s room, safe and sound.

“Dear, look at me.” Cypher takes the time to leave your shades above your head, thumb caressing your chin until you look into his light blue orbs. Despite being masked, you can hear the smile in the tone of his voice. “Are you okay with this?”

“I can’t really say no to Brimstone.” You reply. “Maybe I should forget about last night and pretend nothing happened, for the sake of our team." 

“If that's the case, I respect it. But you need to speak to him either way,” Looking at the clock, he sighs. “Don't give him hopes, and don't ruin a working relationship with someone who is going to be stuck with us for the years to come. Is not…convenient.”

“I think it’s already too late for that advice.”

He chuckles, “Better clear things up now than later.”

Rolling your eyes, you nod. 

A week to think, despite having him there. A week to figure out if you want to pursue love, even when vulnerable. 

A week.

“You have to leave and get ready. Brimstone is already pissed at me, I don't want to give him another reason to smite me.”

Laughing, you bump his shoulders with yours. “He will, anyway.”

—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—

Taking your device might not be necessary for the mission, you think. The network is still being rebooted, and Killjoy hasn’t said a thing about it yet nor when will it start working again. With a dreary sigh, you leave it on your nightstand.

Going over a list in your head, there is nothing outstanding that you believe you have to bring. Your gear is enough, so are your shades. Perhaps a jacket for the cold nights, and a pair of change of clothes. You wish you could bring a bed to sleep on comfortably, but the stretcher on the jet will have to be good for now.

Toiletries, a towel and a few candy bars; yeah, not a whole lotta thing.

With nothing else but a light bag, you exit your room towards the launching site and a slow step. Cypher joins in your walk, toying with a tripwire and accompanying you in silence to your demise. 

You raise a brow in questioning, curious about his presence instead of the next reunion with his assigned team. He only shrugs, nonchalant.

“Not really interested.” is what he replies. “I already know what this is about, anyway. Having to listen to the same thing twice? Not thanks.”

“Suit yourself.” 

Once the jet is visible at the hangar, you have to breathe in slowly to calm down your nerves, and exhale the anxiousness, shaking your arms slightly. 

Cypher's presence is comforting, but is not enough to ignore Gekko’s boisterous self. He’s standing next to the weapon storage, cleaning the barrel of his pistol, and speaking eagerly to Jett. Dizzy is dozing off on his shoulder, wrapped around his neck comfortably, and rumbling soothingly like the purr of a cat.

It’s your luck none of them has taken a notice of your presence yet, or else they would have been able to witness the scowl pulling at your lips when Jett leans in to scratch under Dizzy’s head and subsequently, getting closer to Gekko. 

Cypher realizes what’s going on with an amused huff, side-eyeing you and watching you struggle to contain the anger at bay. An idea occurs to him then, a little risky but worth the try to stir up some…trouble.

“Your gun is already on the jet.” Cypher comments, catching your attention. “I left a little gift for you, too. Open it when you are alone, yes?”

Cypher doesn't wait for an answer before he closes the distance between you two. He puffs out his chest, appearing taller than he really is, and looks down at you in silence as his hand hovers over your elbow.

“What is it?” You ask, concerned. He looks beyond ridiculous.

“Do you trust me?” he whispers, hand gently caressing down your arm until he holds your hand. His robotic blue eyes look deeply into yours, awaiting an answer. 

With a gulp, you nod. 

Cypher guides you against his body, one arm circling around your waist, and taking his hat with the other to rest his masked forehead against yours. With a grin, you hold onto his coat, both hands explaying in his chest as you raise a brow in questioning. He doesn’t dignify you with an answer, but simply a chuckle. What a silly man.

He holds you close for a couple of seconds, sighing loudly and feeling the weight of his head knock against your forehead. It’s comfortable, yet the time he is taking worries you slightly.

“Are you oka—”

“Shh.” he hushes in a low whisper. “Give it a moment.”

Scoffing, you roll your eyes, but let him do what he wants. 

“Gekko is watching,” he says then. His words are enough to tense your muscles, eyes widening in panic. “Keep up the act for a little more, and then go straight to the jet, alright? Don’t look at him when you leave, just me.”

“Okay.”

“Good girl.”

When you part ways, he makes a motion of kissing your hand through his mask. With a snort, you flick his hat when he wears it again and Cypher chuckles under his breath.

“You dork.” 

“Always the gentleman.” he replies. “Be careful.”

“You too, Cy.”

It takes a while to gather your bearings before you finally bid him goodbye and do as he told you. Avoiding Gekko’s pointed stare is easier when your eyes hide behind your shades and the nervousness behind a concealed expression. 

Cypher stays in place as he watches you go into the jet, humming to himself as he watches the disbelieving expression on Gekko’s face, staring right at the door where you’ve just entered. It’s not long until Omen shows up, nodding his head in his direction, and going right behind Jett who hollers up when Killjoy rushes them to set off.

Gekko stays behind for a moment, still frozen in place and glaring at Cypher with an unknown emotion swimming in his eyes. When the sentinel nods in his direction, saluting him in what could be considered as mocking, Gekko can't help the sudden anger that flows through his veins and flips him off, turning around and jogging to the jet without looking back.

The doors to the jet close behind him, and the engines don’t take long before they are turned on. Laughing to himself, Cypher takes that as his cue to leave. 

His job is done. This is now up to Gekko whether to amend things with you if he's brave enough or else, Cypher will make it his mission to step into their relationship and steal you away when he least expects it.

It was never in his plans to take it this far nor get involved, but now that an opportunity has arisen, he won't hold back if Gekko fucks it up beyond repair.