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First, that he's meeting you in the real world and not in the dreamscape. Sunday doesn't like reality. If he's meeting you there - it means that he is wanting affirmation you are real despite everything, which is not a sign of him being very level-headed.

The second is that he's being affectionate. He comes to your door and kisses you on the lips before making you greet him. A deep kind of kiss, shared between average people. Lacking control and precision - all want.

The third is that he takes off his clothes when he closes the door behind. He makes you sit on the bed like always, but doesn't join you in his full attire. He doesn't make you get naked and come sit in his lap while he still has his suit on.

You have a routine about this after all. Sunday comes, makes you sit at his feet until he's pleased with your begging - makes you cum to the point of delirium than murmurs softly until you've sobered again. He'll talk to you afterwards. Lays in bed next to you and strokes your hair with absent fondness only after affording you pleasure. Only after paying him your worship.

But he skips the step entirely today and undresses. He's never undressed without you asking him. Always a reward.

You want to ask what exactly has him this desperate, but you're almost afraid to know. It's so unusual it jars you.

He has his back turned away from you on the bed where you sit. You're naked with the exception of a choker. Sunday is undressing in front of you, all without you asking. It feels like something you shouldn't look at, though he hasn't forbidden you from it explicitly.

You peek anyway, pushing away the guilt.

He undresses himself neatly. Slides the silk of his gloves off and lays them flat on the armchair nearby. He shrugs his white coat off, follows it. His fingers are beautiful and soft outside of their confines, and they unbutton his shirt dexterously. Off with his vest and his other attire - once his top half is bare he turns to you.

Despite yourself, you try to level your enthusiasm. You look down at the bed underneath you, only listening for his footsteps. Instead you find the hardness of your heartbeat, rising into your throat.

Your skin feels hot. He hasn't even touched you but you're wet, albeit afraid of what any of it means.

You feel your pulse quicken impossible when his hand brushes along your cheek. His fingers are long and slender, his nails as pristine as the rest of him.

"Look at me."

And so you do, picking your head up to gaze at him. His expression is unreadable, but different. "Is everything okay?"

That seems to shock him. He smiles that time, comfortably. "Everything is fine. Something came up. I thought I'd come see you."

"Oh well, I'm glad you came to see me," You say quickly and he smiles again even softer. "But, well. It's different."

"It is. Is that a problem?"

"No, no - I just. Are you upset?"

"Not with you," He's quick to assure. You love him, you think. It's things like that that make you love him. "Something annoyed me."

"Is that right," You look up at him and look closer. "Can I help you?"

You feel it then. There's a shift in his demeanor. He's pleased with the question, with your attitude. You feel his hand nearly tremble as he strokes you fondly. "You want to make me feel better?"

You feel strange. Skittish. "Y-yes. If that's alright."

"Aren't you very generous?" He replies. It sounds like praise, makes your stomach turn. "There's something I'd like to do with you. Will you allow me?"

You're not sure why he's asking. "You don't need to ask my permission for anything."

He shivers at that. You think he does. It's brief enough that you miss it. His eyes lid, thumb smoothing across your lower lip. "That's right. You're all mine, aren't you?"

You nod. "Uh-huh."

He smiles at you. Laughs, pleasant and warm and rich. It's an unfamiliar sound - almost carefree. It makes you happy to hear but you try not to let it show so he doesn't get conscious of it. Still, you smile. Stare down at the space underneath and glance at his naked torso and flush all over again.

"Then, allow me," He sits next to you on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. He grabs your hand tender and guides you into his lap. The amount of contact is so much unprepared, your knees feel weak. He allows you to straddle him, guides your arms around his neck. You can feel his gaze on you and you squirm but don't move.

"You're very nervous." He points out.

"You're," You feel like the Penacony will fall from underneath your feet "...touching me."

"You're so ruined already, over that?"

You nod. Of course you are. It's Sunday's body you're touching. He never allows you this much unless you've done something to please him greatly. Unless his mood is good. You're used to the silky cloth of his gloves even when he fucks you on his fingers, your cunt dripping onto his nice suit even when he's pleasuring you for hours. He reminds you of the miles between you doing that. A show of power.

So of course the sudden change in that distancing is alarming. Arousal keeps spiking every time you remember. It makes you feel stupid. You're touching his warm skin, seeing the sinew of his shoulders and the way he's built. His core soft and stable, everything dusted with rosy hues. He's slender and beautiful and elegant all over so of course you're wet between your legs, achy and unnerved by just how much your pussy seems to pine after his touch.

Your brain feels like it'll pour out of your ears, the words barely forming to speak.

"It's too much."

He doesn't say anything in reply. His fingers snake between your legs where you're stood on your knees - sliding down slick folds, tentative and amused. "You're so much wetter than usual," Then, with a breathlessness to his voice "Is it really making you feel this way to see me half naked?"

You lock eyes with him. You can't make yourself out in the reflection of his eyes but his face changes. It doesn't matter what you can see, because you know you look desperate. You can never hide how you feel from Sunday, but especially not like this. Vulnerable, you nod curtly - mouth fallen open.

"It's okay," He coos, which are not the words he normally chooses. He normally says that you'll be alright - which is different from this. Restlessness makes your skin prick. "Do you want to know why I'm in a bad mood?"

You nod.

"I thought of you running away," He says, which is typical. But it's too much for it to be just that so you wait. "Going back to your home planet to never return. It wasn't pleasant but I couldn't stop imagining it."

"...Was that really all?"

"Really all? Do you think there's something that would displease me more than that?"

"You really want me to stay with you." You say, less than ask.

"I treasure you," He murmurs, his voice is low. Cold, even - underneath layers of possession. "You are mine to treasure."

"Of course but," You want to look away from his eyes but you find that you cannot. "So much? Do you really?"

He smiles again. It doesn't reach his eyes. "More than you'll ever know." He reaches for your hand and holds them, smiles as you gasp. His lips brush along your knuckles. "So you'll trust me, won't you?"

"Yes. Whatever you want."

"Such dangerous words."

You don't ask he means by that. It wouldn't matter. Wouldn't make it any less true. The tight space that Sunday has carved for you is yours no matter how suffocating. It's yours and you would do so much to please him.

Sunday lets his fingers walk up the curve of your spine. You shiver, watching him. He's pleased somehow, and that's good you think. It's better than him being angry. His hand stops at the nape of your neck, cupping it and rubbing his thumb along your pulse.

"Let me in,"

You don't know what that means until you feel it. Two sensations press against you at the same time. Sunday's abilities - halovian and not. Your eyes close tight at the pressure in your skull, but Sunday's hand in the physical world soothes you. He's reaching you in two ways - two different ways. You know them now.

His powers feel different from his halovian abilities. His powers (or THEIR powers, you suppose) are piercing and needlepoint - never completely pleasant or intended to relieve. He uses them only occasion, and never for too long. The invocation is usually a test of some kind. Even as he mutters the words against your neck now, they illicit that kind of response. It makes your body pulsate. It's pain that only he can deliver and heal - pain that he gives to you, that is yours. It's not harsh enough to incapacitate.

But it's strong enough that the back of your teeth chatter. Your muscles pull, lurching forward to collapse in his arms. Like a hot iron searing your tongue - like a needle going through the softest part of it. Your first are closed into tightly as you allow him inside of your very being. Penetration that outweigh physical, violates you to the core and carves you out tenderly. You're awake and alive and ruined beyond whats mortal. It's not so intense usually. Allowing him to sink in the hollow blankness of your mind and dig his sharp claws into the soft matter. Jolts of electricity spatter along your insides - your mouth open with drool sliding down both end. HE is inside of you. HE intends to control you until he decides to stop.

You open your mouth to speak but the pressure is too strong. Another sensation follows you, then - just after you get used to the first. It's different. It's the gift he was born with, the pleasant throb of halovian telepathy.

You feel your jaw go slack at the overwhelming difference between pain. Complete, unyielding euphoria.

You moan. Your physical body reacts - your clit throbbing so hard it stings, making your entire lower body like it will melt off of you. With a shaky inhale, you feel the full breadth of Sunday's internal emotions. Possession and adoration knit themselves together and move like a caress over every inch of your body. Lightheaded from the pressure, your breathing strains.

There's not a single part of you Sunday is not touching intimately - fingers and palms and tongues. His physical hands, soft and placating rub your pussy and drive you to hysteria. His voice is whispering you words of comfort - to trust and hold on. His emotions twist and dominate yours and everything in you sings back in obedience. You want to cry. And you think you will after your adjusted enough to remember where you end and Sunday begins. If that ever happens. If it's possible experiencing the weight of this.

You're boneless underneath his touch. Your physical body and sensations reach heights far beyond and in true, utter desperation you call his name. You're not usually so spoiled but it's too much and you need him. "Sunday. Kiss me."

You can see yourself almost in third person. His laugh is smooth but breathy, as he lays you down on the mattress and leans over you. He kisses you as you've asked, long and deep - and doesn't pull away even as you lick desperately at his lips. Your nails are clenched into your hand, making them bleed.

He speaks to you clearly.

"You love me don't you?"

The words barely make it out of your mouth. Your heart is pounding. It's not like you can lie like this anyway, but you never would. "Yes. Yes, I love you."

He must feel it. Feels you as much as you feel him because he laughs near jovial and kisses you again. His soft lips slide against your shoulder, your collarbones. "Yes. I love you too. But you know that."

Yes. You do know. There's no way you couldn't.

Your entire body feels weak as Sunday lowers himself further and further. His mouth, warm and inviting - leaves open mouth kisses across the entire expanse of your body. Your nerves feel fried, like they're getting pulled like weeds and laid out.

You know what Sunday's mouth feels like well, but like this is too much. Too much to fast, your spine arches off the back of your bed as his breath ghosts over bare cunt. Gasping, you reach for the sheets behind you. No awareness of your surroundings can save you from it.

Ruthless as always, you feel his tongue slip against your folds and lose sight of the remaining threads of your consciousness. Sunday uses his abilities to stabilize you, says something about how you can't pass out yet. You whine at the back of throat but don't tell him to stop. He praises you for that with another long stripe against your clit.

Sunday is good at knowing your body. Pristine and precise to the point of being scary. He lays his tongue flat and latches himself on you, angular in leading you to your orgasm. Your body is so impossibly sensitive that he barely goes for a minute before you feel yourself shuddering in that familiar desperate way. His feelings come in a wave after that, a pink hue in your eyelids as he expresses his unending praise even after your incredibly premature orgasm.

"Sorry," You mutter, barely breathing as everything swirls inside of you. Your stomach flips. He puts his hand up to hold yours. "Didn't ask for permission."

He laughs at that, bright and pretty. He's pleased with you. You're practically vibrating from need. It's alright. You don't have to ask today."

"Are you...aah...sure?"

"Yes. It was polite of you to ask." He praises, and kisses the inside of your thigh. He licks your pussy again this time with deliberate slowness and you cry out his name. "You're so wet for me. So sweet. Should I use my hands at all or do you think you can take me as is, hm, my love?"

"Give it to me," You slur, unsure if you can hold out on it much longer. "Please, please, please."

"No need to beg. I do like to hear it though." He says, mostly to himself. He kisses you as another wave of sensation enraptures you and leave you limp. You feel it all again, strong to the point of feeling numb. Piercing pain followed by overwhelming, lovesick euphoria. Your body goes limp against the bed, fingers curling into the sheets.

Sunday coos at you. He guides your arms around his neck and guides your hands to his shoulders. "You can hurt me a little."

"Don't want to hurt you."

"I want you too," He says, and you think if you were sober enough it'd feel like a confession. "It's alright. You'll never be sharper than I can handle."

You whimper but concede, letting your nails dig into his flesh hard to keep yourself together. Sunday whispers praise against your neck as you go through the impossible motions of it. It's so much longer than he'd normally put you through his and your body is pushed to it's limits. You know that but he seems pleased with you. You want to please him.

"You're doing well." He praises, softer than ever. "A little more. Just a bit."

The world could be ending outside around you, but you would be completely clueless to it. The only thing, the only thought, the only consideration you can make towards Sunday. His adoration does not feel like the flicker of a candle, but like ball of light curling around itself. It is tight, and hot, and always at risk of exploding itself into something cosmic and unreachable. You wonder if it is possible to love too much, but tell yourself that isn't true.

Even as love makes a mess of you in the physical and metaphysical and all else. Even as it flays you open and guts you and licks you until you are all but hollow yearning, you don't think he loves you too much. You just think that he loves you. If Sunday is all the concentrated light in the universe, you are the eternal darkness meant to make him whole. Your love for him just as deep, like a void that never ends - certain, inevitable darkness.

Your tongue feels heave in your mouth as you kiss Sunday again. A lonesomeness comes every minute you spend apart, even brief. Sunday does not leave you alone for long.

Even as he prepares himself to feel you deeper, he whispers and talks to you. Placating praise leaves tears welling at the corners of your eyes but you nod and listen anyway. You wait for him.

"Take a deep breath." He tells you. He positions himself over you again - though you can barely see or understand as you open your eyes. You blink rapidly, trying to get a sense of his expression even as your mind is gripped at the corners and pulled taut at every edge. Color clouds your vision - hazy making your eyes glass over as you attempt to pry them open. Sunday appears before you like an Aeon in all their glory, beautiful and divine. You sniffle at the sight of him, whimpering at the sensation of his hands on your thighs.

"I love you," You whimper at the touch of his cool hands on your hot skin. "Love you,"

"I know," He says, sliding his cock along your folds with such unwavering affection it makes you gasp. The tip throbs along your clit, sticky with need and you whine. "Shh. I'm here."

You allow him whatever he wants. Your head feels full. Nodding, drunk and floating - you squeeze your eyes close as you feel the tip of Sunday's cock push through you. You wish you could see it better, though you've seen it before. Long and pretty, red tip and neat hair at the base. The sensation makes your tummy flutter, your hands up to his shoulders.

Your pussy weeps at the feeling of him finally entering you, something deep in your body begging for him. Your throat closes, eyes watering at the sensation of being so full as he starts to move. Slow but sure, not intended to pain you - restrained. Everything is full. Heart, body, mind - every inch of you harbors Sunday like he's made you in his image. Your lower half throbs and thrums, a euphoric outpour making your legs wrap around his waist. You don't want him to move. You want him to carve himself in you and stay forever.

Tears fall helplessly as he bottoms out. His waist is pretty, you think - as you see where his meets yours. You see his cock sheathed inside and your mouth drops open. Sunday grinds against you, hot as it touches your sweet spot. Never-ending in his chase to please you.

"Sunday," Your voice is hoarse as he moves his hands to rest between your bodies, thumb brushing along your clit. "I'll cum."

It's more than that. You think if you start, there's no way you're going to be able to stop. The thought frightens you almost. Sunday is quick to assure you.

"It's okay," He tells you, and keeps moving and touching to bring you to the very precipice without any mercy at all. "I know. Your body is mine and it's what I wanted. So," He glances up at you with as mile. "Give me what I ask of you."

Your lips form into a pout because you know you can't say no to that. You wonder why this is what he wants from you, but your brain is too scrambled to even try to deduce it.

Feeling an orgasm this way isn't something you've ever experienced in your life. You can't imagine you ever will again. That much pleasure and sensation, life-ruining - feels like falling through space with no assurance of when you'll crash. Just knowing it will come eventually. Your entire body lurches forward at the full sensation, bursting at the seams. Everything around you melts until you're left with nothing but hot white pleasure racketing along each of your exposed, frayed nerves. You fall away and into nothing. It feels so good you can't speak, can't think, can't do anything but let that nasty sob leave your lips in complete and utter ruin. You cry for Sunday - teary, snotty, pathetic, and you want to beg him for something though you aren't sure it's mercy.

He fucks you through it. The repetitive sensation of your body being fucked while you're lifeless makes your ears ring but Sunday fucks you anyway. Fucks you meaner than you though he was capable of, fucks you precise. Lets his cock fuck into you with such force your cunt is forced to remember him until death do you part. You can only feel Sunday. Every atom of you his, his his.

You spend so much time in that high, you barely know when it stops. Sunday fucks you to his own orgasm and you feel that inside of you too, which only makes you cry longer.

You know it's over when Sunday starts to pull away and you feel unimaginably hollow. Even though it was so hard on your body for the entire duration, you find yourself exhausted when you start to sober up and open your eyes. You see Sunday before closing them again. He is as beautiful as always.

__

You think you must pass out for a bit, because a breach of time comes where you see nothing but darkness. When you're awake - you're in a bath in the hotel bathroom.

Sunday has not left your side when you're awake again. He looks worried as he sits on the edge of the tub and waits for you.

The water is warm and comfortable. You are tired and very, very hungry. Sunday looks at you but doesn't realize you're awake even as you gaze at him. He seems sad and that saddens you.

"Sunday? Everything okay?"

His eyes open wide when he hears you speak. Your voice is barely there. He's still naked. You blink. "You're not wearing clothes."

He stares at you for a long, long time. And then, afterwards, his bare hand comes up to your cheek and cups your neck. He kisses you deeply, tenderly and it makes you sigh a little to feel. It's unusual. He laughs against your lips.

"I wanted to bathe with you," He says after a long while. You widen your eyes. "Is that okay?"

"Oh, uhm," You nod feeling self conscious. "That's fine."

"And," he holds your hand in the soapy water and lets his thumb smooth against your finger. "Let's eat together. After. Okay?"

You smile to yourself. "Uh-huh. Okay."

You love him you think. There's no such thing as too much. No matter how it would look to anyone else. You think Sunday loves you too. Enough to ruin you completely and put you back together again.

—

A small, dingy closet was what he found in the back of the bar. He almost knocked the wind out of you as he practically launched you inside. You had barely managed to regain your balance until he trapped you in between his sturdy arms, using the dusty wooden table behind you effectively.

“Gepard?”

His breaths were shallow and heavy, the scent of his cologne and musk intensifying around you as you looked up at him. He was looking directly into your eyes, piercing through your soul but had a slight softened look to it. A pleading look. An agonizing, pained look for release.

“… Not another word,” he spoke calmly and immediately ripped the armour off of him, along with his shirt. The heavy clanking of metal resounded against the floorboards beneath you two.

Perhaps it was the fluorescent light beaming down on you two, or the half-lidded eyes he had on his expression… But he looked ethereal. The dirty blonde locks cascaded down his forehead and his skin shone with a slight gleam due to sweat. The cloud of lust drowned any sense of fear as his hands busied themselves to lock behind your head, cradling your jaw with one hand and the other resting on your nape.

A tiny mewl escaped your lips as you hungrily welcomed his tongue that shot straight into your mouth. The warmth of the muscle explored the surface of your canines, until prodding his own tongue with your own. Taken-a-back is an understatement, you never knew Gepard would be so… Good, real good. Who knew the shy and obedient man would have a hidden side?

As you were trying to keep up with his movements, Gepard’s voice lowered in a hushed manner.

“… Tell me whenever to stop,” he whispered, not wanting to hurt you or to cross any more boundaries. You can tell just from looking at him that reality was slowly starting to sink in. In turn, you placed a hand behind his neck and pushed him once more to your lips.

“Mmgh!”

A choked up grunt evoked from his mouth but soon after, he sunk deeper into the intimacy, the feeling of holding you, touching you… To Gepard, this was the moment to finally show you how much he loved you. A primal yet desperate instinct grew within him, it was competitive— The feeling to win you over, the feeling to completely lose himself in you, to be able to do that spoke volumes for the man who represented perseverance himself.

He let his hands trail down to the back of your knees, hoisting you up and setting you on top the wooden table. The dim light coming from the bulb created perfect shadows of his muscles. He was well built throughout the years fighting and wearing thick, heavy armour. A sense of pride flooded in him as he watched you carefully drink his physique in, captivated.

“Don’t make me nervous now,” he jokingly added, a tinge of pink blooming on his cheekbones. “Got Sampo wrapped around your pretty little finger, hmm?”

A breathy chuckle left your lips, falling into lust as he nudged your head to the side to bite along the column of your neck.

“A chatter, that man,” you added and subconsciously spread your legs, allowing him to dive in deeper into your body.

“I can’t disagree with him either,” he responded quickly.

He took that split second and didn’t waste any time, calloused palms dragging across the plush of your thighs to push it further apart. The sound of the rustling of his pants made you look and he slowly unbuckled the leather with one hand, pulling it downward.

“Are you—“

“No, I’m preparing you first,” he whispered, trailing his light fingertips from your navel to the edge of your underwear. You were caught by surprise as Gepard’s finger tracks down your clit and rubs it slowly, teasingly. A delicious yet agonizing, dull sensation bubbled within your lower abdomen.

Tiny mewls and gasps left your parted lips, enticing Gepard to go more into rhythm, drinking in the lustful noises that he was producing. This was the reality of the situation, created by the tension between him and Sampo. And now, he couldn’t help the slow rise of his boner, growing an even larger tent within his tight slacks. He wedged his lip inbetween his teeth, chewing it harshly until specks of blood dotted around the abrasion.

He’s the one bringing out these beautiful noises you’re making. Not Sampo. Him.

The beat of his fingers increased, swiping side to side, in circles… Abusing the swollen bundle of nerves of yours. His hawk eyes pierced onto your face, analyzing the shortness of breath, the way your eyes were screwed shut. This only, and merely, egged Gepard on.

“G-Gonna cum,” you announced weakly, knocking your head back onto the wall. Just as the tension built up, it ended abruptly. The heavenly sensation of your bursting release cut short. A tiny whine evoked in you as you glared at Gepard in irritation. He laughed at your expression, hovering over your crumbled physique with both arms caging you in.

Gepard gave you a lop-sided smile and a tilt to his head. “I like that expression. Suits you.”

You sent him another stare of judgement, feeling the heavenly release slowly return back to your normal state. Gepard merely scoffed, jokingly, and yanked his pants along with his boxers down.

“What? Cat got your tongue? Use your words—“ he grabbed your chin and gently caressed your jaw, looking down at you.

“— Or use your mouth.”

You shut yourself up mentally and lowered yourself from the desk, your pride being on the line as well as your aching core. It’s still unbelievable. This wasn’t anything you expected of Gepard; the shy, chivalrous man you once knew vanished in a second, in this dimly lit closet.

Your gaze trailed down his abdomen to his erect penis, the sound of the tip slapping against his skin caused a gulp to rise in your throat. He adorned a large size, stretching out at seven inches — give or take — erect, with pretty blue veins decorating the sides and reaching towards his pelvis. You gave him experimental licks along the shaft, right along those veins popping out of the sheerness of his skin. He was soft, so soft… And warm. The same pink hue of the angry tip matched the shell of his ears.

A strained groan came from him and as you peered up, his head was craned all the way back. The beauty of his was all you could focus on, wanting to mark it up with your own kisses; the way it connected to the angular shapes of his collarbones, to the chisel of his adam’s apple.

“Y-You’re good,” he commented, his breathing erratic as he narrowed his gaze onto you. “Got Sampo as your practice partner—“

A loud slurping noise cut his remark, a moan bordering a whimper erupted from Gepard as you angrily swirled your tongue around, and shoved him all the way down your throat. You released his cock from your puffy lips with a pop, dazing at him intensely. Was he…

“Jealous?” you teased, only to erupt another irritated expression from him. However, it was more than just plain jealousy. Gepard looked at you with a blank stare and suddenly lifted you up by your underarms and shoved open your thighs. He didn’t mutter a single word, instead, aligning his fat cock head to your aching hole. He paused, looking at you cautiously and carefully in case you wanted to deject. A tinge of pink coated the apples of your cheeks, and you instinctively reached to interlock his long fingers with yours.

“Mhm— Eugh!“

He slammed into you, sucking in a harsh breath and made his movements stagnant for a second. A loud throaty noise ripped from your chest, the delicious stretch pulsating and tingling from your cunt, shooting straight up to your head. You took that brief moment to let your body mold around his heated dick, before peering up at him with tears welling in your eyes — a signal to go.

His insatiable, animalistic instincts were the only thing that controlled his body. The wet sounds and bodily noises emitting within the room only gave Gepard more fuel to his fire. You, whose neck was craned all the way up, screamed at the euphoric waves of pleasure. Gepard leaned forward more, licking long stripes along the column of your neck and left vivid hickeys; the blues and purples bloomed on your body, like flowers painted by monet.

“Y-You… Look so beautiful,” he mumbled out, staring at you like you were a blessing sent down by the Aeons themselves. He lifted your hips up and slammed his cock back inside, heavy balls slapped against your puffy lips. Breathy moans and the stench of sex, you dropped your face against his shoulder and cried out.

“… So pretty,” he chanted once more, and kissed your forehead. His left arm trailed down your stomach and with his free hand, he parted your folds with his middle and index fingers. He stared at your core, it was glistening in the cheap fluorescent lamp above the two of you. He tilted his head and blew lightly at your clit, which caused you to buckle at your legs.

You let out a strangled mewl, wrapping your arms around his neck. You felt a twitch from his cock and a bubbly sensation rose in the pit of your stomach. It was all so lewd, his length stretched you out so deliciously as he rammed his hips nonstop, his demeanor from before was irritated, and now you were left with the touch-starved shell of a man.

Perhaps it’s due to the strong, pent-up emotions you hold for him, but you grasped onto the back of his head and kissed him— A kiss where it wasn’t merely a gesture of lust, or just because you two were in a sexual act… A battle between pleasure, lust, affection were evident, and the craving to portray your true emotions in that sloppy act. His speed became staggered, irregular thrusts entered and exited your squelching cunt in an inconsistent manner.

“F-fuck! I’m gonna—“ Gepard announced and grumbled various strings of profanity. He searched for your hands once more and intertwined them, looking down at you through glossy eyes.

“Cum with me,” he pleaded, regaining a sense of momentum with his hips. It was almost like a spell — his words — and it echoed in your head. A tinge of pleasure shot from your abdomen and your legs started to shake intensely.

“Shit,” you groaned, whining as the release was nearing. Gepard took notice, immediately feeling you clamp down on his dick harder. He spilled his seed into you, and following after, you creamed around his dick; his hips stuttering wildly. Your walls clenched and you felt the warmth of his cum paint your insides. He kept his hips still and the fluttering of your walls gave him slight overstimulation, cock-warming you while keeping you from leaking out his seed.

His heavy weight fell against your body, the weight of his heart too. Tears welled up in his eyes and he hid his face, holding onto you more tightly than before. From your teary-eyed vision and exhausted state, he gave you a slight glance to make sure you were okay. He quickly covered you with his guard uniform, shielding you from the sudden cold of the closet.

“Don’t… Talk to him. At least alone. And only with me.”

“You know I never had feelings for him, right?” You asked, still trying to catch your breath. You raised your shaking hands to slot them against his reddened cheeks.

“Yes love… But, he’s still Sampo, gets on my nerves, I couldn’t sit there and watch him do that vile act,” he sternly replied, however reverting back to his old self once more. You chuckled at his embarrassment, scratching the crown of his head lovingly.

“All Sampo knows is how to steal $10,000 from naïve people and break-and-enter the most weirdest places,” you stated, chuckling as Gepard tightens his hold around you, shying away his face. He straightens up and helps you wear your clothing, making sure to also gently wipe any fluids or dirt on your body with his own sleeve.

“He’s still another guy, Y/N. So from now on…” Gepard trails off, removing a Belobog Silvermane Guard insignia from the coat draped around you. With the pin still in hand, he fastens it onto the lapel of your jacket, the lustre gleaming out and proud.

“You’re mine. And if Sampo needs physical evidence, that pin can do wonders… If not, make sure I’m with you. I don’t mind giving him a show either.”

—