~~

Xavier: Found something. Thought it might look good on your bed.

You tap the link eagerly, expecting a picture of some ridiculously soft, oversized penguin or maybe a weirdly cute dragon. You’re already mentally carving out a space for it on your bed.

The link loads. You blink.

Then you blink again.

Your thumb freezes mid scroll. It is not a penguin. It is definitely not a dragon. It is an explicitVIDEO that makes your entire face turn red in approximately 0.5 seconds.

Just as the girl in the video lets out a soft moan, your phone vibrates again. This time, it’s a frantic succession of messages.

Xavier: Wait, did that go through?

Xavier: The link?

Xavier: Please tell me you didn't click that yet.

You look at the video one last time before quickly locking your phone and pressing the cool glass against your burning cheek.

🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟

He doesn't say a word. He doesn't have to. The look in his deep blue eyes is heavy, dark, and entirely unapologetic.

The transition from his accidental text to both of you completely naked in your bed happens in less than 10 minutes. Because you’ve only been intimate for a few weeks, there’s still this electric, terrifying novelty to it, the way your heart hammers against your ribs when his hands touch your skin.

He’s behind you, his body acting as a warm, solid anchor. His skin is hot against yours, a seamless fit that feels like it was designed by the universe itself. But it’s what he’s doing, the agonizing patience of it that is pushing you toward the edge of madness.

He isn't fucking you. Not yet.

He's doing exactly what you saw on that video. He’s sliding his cock between your thighs, the slick, heavy length of him dragging slowly against you. Every single time he thrusts, the tip of him catches the little hood of your clit before dragging the lenght of his cock across your most vulnerable spot with a precision that feels soooo good.

"Xavie..." you moan, your voice breaking, a plea you can't quite finish.

"Shh," his breath is hot, uneven, smelling faintly of mint. His lips brush the sensitive curve of your neck. "Just breathe, bunny. Let it build."

He pulls back, nearly losing contact entirely, only to slide forward again, with enough pressure to make your eyes roll back.

"I've been thinking about this," he whispers, his lips brushing your earlobe, sending a violent shiver down your spine. "For months"

You let out a choked sob, head falling back against his shoulder. "You're so beautiful when you're desperate, you’re close, aren't you?"

His voice vibrates against your skin and the smile you can feel against your pulse point is nothing short of predatory. He knows. He’s always known exactly where you are, even when you’re too lost in the haze of pleasure to find the words.

You try to answer, but your voice is trapped somewhere in the back of your throat, drowned out by the thrum of your heartbeat. You don't speak, and he thrives on that silence. To him, your quiet isn't an absence, it’s an admission. It’s the honest, raw truth of a body that has been pushed past its limit and is now screaming for a release it can't quite grasp.

His hand slides down from your ribs to settle firmly on your waist. His grip is certain, unyielding and controlled anchoring you to the mattress so you can’t squirm away.

He presses a kiss to your neck. Once. Slow. Then again, lower, his lips grazing the curve where your shoulder meets collarbone. The heat of it enough to make you arch backward, your spine curving into him, while the dirty intent of his touch makes you clench around the empty air.

"Ask me, bunny," you try to find your voice, but all that comes out is a breathless hitch in your lungs. Seeing your struggle, he doesn't let you off the hook. He reaches up, his fingers tangling in your hair to gently but firmly tilt your head back toward him. He never breaks the rhythm, he angles his hips with precision, pressing the length of his cock harder against your clit, forcing a loud moan from your lips directly into his mouth.

"Use your words," he insists, his eyes dark and hooded, watching the way your expression fractures.

The words tumble out of you, wrecked and desperate, "I want to cum, Xavie... please..."

His lips crash against yours, but the sweetness is gone. He kisses you like his patience has finally grown teeth, hungry and sharp. His hand moves to your thigh, pressing down firmly to maximizing the friction, ensuring every single nerve ending is on fire, making sure you feel every bit of what you asked for.

The world simply ceases to exist. You both break at the exact same moment. You’re gasping, your hands instinctively flying to your own breasts, squeezing them as you chase the peak, your fingers digging into your skin for any extra stimulation you can find.

"There you are..." he whispers against your lips as he spills over your thighs, your cunt, and the damp sheets beneath you. He holds you there, pinning you to the moment, letting the aftershocks roll through you until your muscles begin to tremble into stillness.

When the world begins to drift back into focus, a languid warmth settling over your limbs, a realization begins to dawn on you. He didn't just give you an orgasm. He found a hidden part of you, the part that craves to be unraveled, the part that wants to be ruined slowly and meticulously and he taught it to answer to him, and him alone.

Bzzzz. Bzzzz

Caleb [14:22]: Found a recipe for a honey glazed salmon. Reminded me of that place we went to last week.

You’re supposed to be working on a pile of halfway finished reports on your desk but he’s been rambling about dinner for the past hour.

Caleb [14:23]: Let's try it tonight. Let me know if it looks okay to you.❤️

A link follows.

You tap it, expecting a colorful food blog or maybe one of those YouTube tutorials with a soft acoustic soundtrack. Your brain practically short circuits.

A VIDEO loads instantly. It’s not salmon. It's a girl, sprawled out on a bed, and there’s a man, looming over her as he... well, he's fucking her face. The girl is looking straight up at him, eyes glazed and heavy lidded, completely lost in it. The sound of the video starts to play before you can find the volume button.

"Oh my god," you whisper, frantically trying to close the tab.

Was this a joke? Or maybe a very, very subtle hint? Did the great Colonel Caleb actually just fumble the most embarrassing mistake of his entire life?

Bzzzz

Caleb [14:26]: Pips. The link was wrong. Ignore that. It was supposed to be a cooking blog. Please delete it.

You could pretend you didn't see a single thing and let him stew in his own embarrassment all day. You could let him suffer.

But then again... he did say he wanted to try something new tonight.

You type out a quick reply, heart racing just a little bit.

“The recipe looks good. Do you think we have all the ingredients?😉"

🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎

The dim light of the bedroom catches the violet of his eyes, making them look entirely too satisfied. He’s hovering over you, his broad shoulders blocking out the rest of the world, leaving you in a private universe where the only thing that exists is his weight and the heat of his cock.

His hands frame your face. "Look at me, baby,"

He guides himself to your lips and begins to slide in. He moves slowly, testing your limits, watching your eyes widen as you try to adjust.

"God, you look so good like this," he breathes, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone. "With your mouth so full of me..."

The praise makes your head swim and your throat tighten.

"I should have done this sooner... I should have stopped playing the gentleman and just taken what's mine."

His slow pace breaks, and he thrusts deeper, a sudden surge that hits the back of your throat. Your eyes water instantly, an involuntary gag catching in your chest when your body tries to protest the sudden fullness.

"Silly girl," he coos, not pulling back. He stays right there, buried deep "Don't fight it. Just breathe through your nose"

He waits until he sees your nostrils flare, until you take a shaky, shallow breath through your nose, eyes locking onto his.

The moment you manage it, the tension in his shoulders melt "Theeeere we go," he whispers, giving you one more deep, slow slide, making sure you feel every inch of him. "Such a fast learner. My perfect... fuck... perfect girl."

The need to see just how far you can push him takes over and instead of just taking him, you begin to draw him in, sucking your cheeks in slowly, creating tight pressure around him.

A groan rips from his throat and his hands, which were previously just guiding your head, suddenly dig into your hair, fingers knotting into the strands with a force that almost hurts.

"Fuck, Pips..." his head falls back for a split second before he snaps his gaze back to yours "I didnt teach you that..."

He loses the battle with his own restraint and his hips begin to move with punishing speed. Every time the tip of his cock hits the very back of your throat you can feel the involuntary reflex of your throat tightening and saliva begins to pool at the corners of your lips. It’s messy but it’s exactly what he wants.

"Look at you," he pants, reaching down to catch a stray drop of saliva and smearing it across your chin "So messy for me. You're dripping all over yourself because you can't get enough. You want it all, don't you?."

Your lungs are screaming, your chest heaving in search for oxygen, but you don’t care. The burning in your throat is nothing compared to the sight of him right now, his eyes blown wide, his jaw locked, his face twisted with a kind of agony and ecstasy that he’d never show anyone else.

He’s on the edge. You can feel it in the way his thighs are trembling and he starts to pull away.

Your fingers dig into the hard, tensed muscles of his ass and with a sharp tug, you yank him back inside, slamming him against your face.

The sudden change in pressure snaps the last of his restraint. He doesn't fight you, he doesn't even try. He just collapses into the sensation, his entire body shuddering as he finally lets go.

You feel the first hot, thick burst of him erupt in the back of your throat, a sudden flood that makes you choke and gag, eyes watering.

"Fuck, I can't.. I... " he's shaking all over, his fingers bruising your scalp as he rides out the waves of release.

When he finally pulls away, he doesn't move far. He lingers, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw, his eyes searching yours.

 "You really won't let me have anything for myself, will you? he whispers, his voice rough and ruined. "You just have to take it all."

Your workday has been a total slog. Between the endless briefings at the Association and the exhaustion of keeping up with Wanderers, your brain feels like it’s been through a blender. All you can think about is getting home, kicking off your boots, and maybe if you’re lucky getting a moment of peace.

Until your phone buzzes in your pocket.

You pull it out, expecting a tactical update or maybe a nagging message from your supervisor, but it’s a text from Rafayel.

Rafayel: "My darling, my muse, my precious bodyguard, don't you dare go home and sleep yet”  the text reads, followed by a string of dramatic, pouting emojis. “Remember I have an exhibition today! It’s a secret location, very exclusive, very avant garde. You simply MUST come by after your shift. It’s going to be breathtaking, just like you. Don't be late, or I might actually die of loneliness. Here is the location!" 👇

LINK

You smile, a little warmth spreading through your chest despite the fatigue. He’s so much, truly, but he has a way of making the mundane parts of your life feel colorful. You tap the link, expecting a Google Maps pin or a sleek digital invite to a high end gallery in Linkon City.

Instead, your screen loads a video.

You aren't looking at a gallery. You are looking at a naked woman perched on a chair, looking entirely too comfortable, while a man, in front of her, puts on a very intense performance. The camera zooms in just as he reaches the grand finale, a messy orgasm that ends up all over the woman's legs, stomach and breasts.

You stare at the screen. You stare at the ceiling. You stare at the wall.

Did he... did he just send you a porn link?

Your phone vibrates again. A second text. Then a third. A fourth.

Rafayel: “Did you see it? The lighting is so evocative, don't you think?”

Rafayel: “The composition of the colors is quite striking.”

Rafayel: “Wait. Why aren't you responding? Are you mesmerized by the art? It's okay, take your time, it's quite a lot to take in"

Then, a final text arrives, and the tone shifts instantly from "pretentious artist" to "absolute disaster."

Rafayel:"Don't look at it! Close it! Close the tab! Throw the phone into the ocean! Forget everything you saw! It was a glitch! A spacetime anomaly! A Wanderer attack on my phone! "

You can’t help it. A snort escapes you, followed by a full blown fit of giggles that makes your coworkers glance over in confusion. You quickly type back a single, teasing reply.

You: “The lighting was lovely, Rafayel. Very... evocative.”

The "typing..." bubble appears immediately. It stays there for an agonizingly long time.

Rafayel: “I am literally dying. Bury me in the sand. Don't you dare come to the exhibition. Actually, come. But don't look at me. I'm never leaving my studio again.”

🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧

The exhibition was a triumph, of course. Rafayel was the star, basking in the praise of the elite, playing the part of the brilliant artist to perfection.

But now, the doors are locked, the lights are dimmed to a soft, amber glow and you aren't looking at his paintings anymore. You’re the centerpiece of a much more private gallery.

You’re perched on the edge of chair, your wrists pulled taut behind your back. He’d used a length of fine, crimson silk to bind them, tight enough to force your shoulders back and arch your spine, thrusting your chest forward, the cool air of the studio grazing your skin, making your nipples harden.

His hand is wrapped around himself, moving with a slow rhythm "You're staring, cutie," a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth "Is the view to your liking?"

You nod, looking up at him, licking your lips.

He lets out a shaky breath, his knuckles white as he grips himself. "I’ve spent my whole life trying to capture beauty on a flat surface. Trying to trap light and shadow and emotion in pigment and oil. But it's never enough. It’s always... static. It doesn't breathe. It doesn't react."

He moves closer, the heat from his body finally making contact with your open thighs. His gaze drops to your breasts, tracing the curve he’s forced you to present to him.

"But you..." He swallows hard, a low groan escaping his lips as he watches the way your chest heaves with every breath. "You are the only masterpiece that matters. I want to treat your skin like my finest silk and use your naked body as my own living canvas..."

He looks almost pained by need, his eyes wide and dark with a hunger that goes far beyond simple lust. He’s not just looking at a lover, he’s looking at his salvation.

"Every blush on your cheeks, every shiver that runs down your spine... that's the only art worth making."

His free hand moves to one of your breasts, thumb sweeping over your nipple with a pressure that is both worshipful and demanding. He watches the way your eyes flutter shut, memorizing the exact shade of your arousal.

"God, you're so beautiful it hurts," he whispers "Tell me you want it," the hand around his cock moves faster "Tell me you'll let me finish my work."

You don't make him wait. You lean forward as much as the silk allows, your voice a breathless rasp. "Fiinish it, Raf. Show me what you can do."

You can’t look away. You wouldn't even if you could.

A bead of translucent precum swells at the very tip of his cock, glistening like a misplaced jewel under the lights. The skin there is flushed a deep, angry rose, pulsing with the force of his arousal. His head is thrown back, his throat exposed and taut as he bites his lower lip to stifle the needy whimpers that threaten to spill from his lips.

He looks beautiful.

He’s close, so painfully close to the edge that you decide to push him. 

Even with your arms bound, you find a way to arch your back further, thrusting your chest toward him in an unspoken invitation. You offer yourself to him, presenting your bare skin as a landing site for his release. "Give it to me. All of it."

The sound of your voice, the invitation in your tone, is the final blow to his crumbling resolve. His body jolts with the force of his release and you watch as the heavy, hot ropes of him arc through the air, splattering across the expanse of your breasts. The heat of it is startling, a wet warmth that makes your skin tingle.

The moment the tension snaps, the strength drains right out of his legs. There is no grace in it just the heavy, unceremonious thud of his knees hitting the floorboards right between your thighs.

He stays there, head bowed, hair falling over his eyes in a dark, damp mess. But then, slowly, so slowly, he lifts his gaze.

His eyes, blown wide and shimmering with liquid heat, find yours at the exact same moment your tongue sweeps out to lick a drop of cum from the corner of your mouth.

When your eyes finally lock, you see the exact second his breath hitches again.

His pupils are so dilated they almost swallow the color of his irises, and a fresh wave of heat, a visible crimson surges up his neck and into his cheeks. He stares at your mouth, watching the way your tongue retreats, his gaze tracing the wet glisten you left behind.

"God..." he groans, the word a broken fragment of a thought "You're going to ruin me completely."

The vibration of your phone against the marble countertop is enough to make you jump. You’ve been nursing a lukewarm cup of coffee for the last twenty minutes, trying to shake off the lingering chill of the Linkon City winter, when the screen lights up with his name.

Sylus

[Sylus]: There’s a private auction tonight. High stakes. It starts in an hour. I’ve been tracking that specific protocore for weeks.

[Sylus] : I’ll send you the catalog link. Take a look. Tell me if the energy readings look as tempting to you as they do to me.

You tap the blue hyperlink, ready to nerd out a little and give him the professional opinion he wants from you.

The video player loads, and you nearly drop your phone.

It isn't a protocore.

It's a VIDEO of a man sprawled across rumpled sheets, his chest heaving as a woman jerks him off. She isn't looking at a camera, she’s looking at him.

The sounds hits you next, the wet friction of her hand, the groans the man lets out, overstimulated.

You bite your lip, a nervous, hysterical little laugh bubbling up in your throat. You can almost see his expression if he knew, that slight, elegant tilt of his head, the way he’d probably pinch the bridge of his nose in a rare moment of genuine embarrassment.

With trembling fingers, you start to type a reply.

You: Sylus... unless this protocore is incredibly well endowed and prone to making loud noises, I think you sent the wrong link.

The silence that follows is agonizing. You stare at the "read" receipt, your thumb hovering over the screen, half expecting the phone to burst into flames from the tension. You’ve spent months navigating his moods, his riddles, and his terrifyingly intense presence, but you’ve never quite known how to handle a moment where the power dynamic shifts so abruptly.

The little bubbles appear. He’s typing.

Is he going to ignore it? Is he going to double down with some devastatingly smooth line that will make you want to crawl under the rug?

A moment later, the notification pings.

Sylus:It seems my finger slipped. Or perhaps my subconscious is simply being more honest than my conscious mind intended.

A few seconds later, another message follows, one that feels much more like the man who watches you sleep with predatory tenderness.

Sylus: I'll be at your door in twenty minutes. Let's not bother with the protocore I think we've found something much more interesting to bid on.

🐦‍⬛ 🐦‍⬛ 🐦‍⬛ 🐦‍⬛ 🐦‍⬛ 🐦‍⬛ 🐦‍⬛ 🐦‍⬛ 🐦‍⬛ 🐦‍⬛ 🐦‍⬛ 🐦‍⬛ 🐦‍⬛ 🐦‍⬛ 🐦‍⬛ 🐦‍⬛

You’ve been at this for thirty minutes and your already obsessed.

There is something intoxicating about the power you hold right now. You never realized that teasing a man like Sylus could be this much of a rush. His entire frame shudders, his muscles coiling like a spring about to snap. He’s right on the edge, his breath hitching and just when you think he’s about to break, you pull away.

Your leg is hooked firmly over one of his heavy thighs, a grounding weight that keeps his legs spread wide for you, exposing him completely to your whims. He’s using his Evol to wrap around his own wrists, binding his hands so he can’t reach out and grab you. He’s forcing himself to endure the torture you’re inflicting, all because he wants this. He wants to feel every second of the ache.

He also looks wrecked. It’s a sight you don't get to see often. Fine beads of sweat are beginning to glisten along his hairline and his eye is glowing a dangerous crimson, tracking your every move.

You lean forward, your hair brushing against his stomach, and as your mouth latches onto one of his nipples he throws his head back against the pillows, his entire body vibrating with the force of his loud groan.

You lift your hand, slowly, dragging your tongue across your entire palm in a long lick just to make him watch, just to make him feel the anticipation. Then, you slide your hand down, finally wrapping your fingers around his cock again.

His eyes roll back into his head when you return your mouth to his nipple, sucking with punishing pressure.

“Please... fuck... Please, kitten. Put me out of my misery.

You feel him tense again, his muscles turning to granite beneath your touch. You stop again.

The sudden absence of your warmth makes him let out a frustrated sound, but you aren't done playing yet. Instead of a full stroke, you just use your five fingers to tease the very tip of him, dragging your fingertips over the sensitive head, over and over again.

“You’ve been so good, Sy,” you coo, your voice a honeyed purr against his skin. “Do you think you deserve to cum?”

“Please, sweetie,” he chokes out. You can see his knuckles turning white as his fingernails dig deep into the palms of his hands “I’ve been... so good...”

He’s lost. The great Sylus, the man who sees everyone's deepest desires, is currently a slave to his own. He probably doesn't even realize he's begging.

"Should I keep you like this all night?" you ask, watching his eyes widen, pupils blown so large they swallow the iris. "It's what you wanted, after all, wasn't it?"

He opens his mouth, the words of a fresh plea already forming on his lips, but you don't give him the chance to speak. Your hand suddenly drops, gripping the thick base of his cock with a firm hold, and you begin to stroke him fast, hard, and relentless.

“I won’t, though,” you whisper, leaning in close so your breath fans over his ear, your voice dripping with a playful, dominant heat. “Because you've been such a good boy.”

The moment the praise leaves your lips, something in him snaps, his entire body arching off the bed in a violent, beautiful spasm.

Even when his muscles quiver with the aftershocks, you keep your hand moving, stroking him to overstimulation, pushing him right past the edge of pleasure.

The energy bindings that were holding his wrists apart simply vanish, dissolving into thin air when his willpower finally snaps.

The air is knocked from your lungs as your back hits the mattress with a soft thud, and suddenly, the man who was just begging is the man who is commanding.

He’s over you, his large hands pinning your wrists to the pillows on either side of your head.

"You think you're so clever, don't you?" his nose brushes against yours, his breath smelling faintly of the cherry wine he loves so much. "Playing with me like a toy. Testing how much a man can take before he loses his mind."

His heavy, still sensitive cock slides between your thighs, a blunt reminder of exactly how much you just put him through. He looks absolutely lethal.

"You've had your fun, kitten," he murmurs, his grip on your wrists tightening just enough to let you know he's in total control now. "Now its my turn to see just how much you can take."

Zayne had been obsessing over that new bakery just a few blocks from your place, the kind of place that smells like heaven and costs way too much. He was mid text, rambling about the sourdough starter and the specific crumb structure of their croissants (of course he was), but he mentioned he’d send over the full menu link so you could decide on a weekend treat.

"Wait, let me send the link. They have a seasonal pastry list you'll love"

LINK

You tapped the blue link eagerly, expecting pictures of glazed danishes or maybe a list of gluten free muffins.

It was not a muffin.

It was a very loud, very explicit video of a man wrecking a woman with backshots, pulling out only for her to rip the condom off his cock so he could fuck her raw.

You: Zayne, there are no pastries in that link! There is only... a man. And a girl. And a very missing condom!

Zayne: ...

Zayne: Oh.

You: “Oh”? That’s all? You just sent me a full blown porn video in the middle of the afternoon!

Zayne: Stop. Please. I am currently in the middle of a ward round. A nurse just tried to look at my phone.

You: [Sends a laughing emoji]

Zayne: I'm coming over later. We are going to that bakery. And we are not talking about that "menu" until we have had at least two espressos. To settle my nerves.

You: Are you bringing the condom? Just kidding! Don't kill me!

Zayne: 🙄

🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺

The bakery was a lost cause. The sourdough was forgotten, the espresso was unbrewed, and the only thing "rising" in your apartment was Zayne's cock the moment he walked in and saw the way you were looking at him, flushed, eyes hazy, and, quite frankly, a mess.

Now, you were bent over the edge of your bed, your fingers digging into the mattress as he held you from behind.

"Zaynie, please!" you whimpered, your voice cracking. You were desperate, begging him to just stop being so careful, to just let go and give you what that video had promised. "Just... Take it off, Please!"

His hands gripped your hips with a strength that promised bruises. "Just because you’re on the pill doesn't mean the statistical probability of a mishap is zero. It’s... fuck... it's about risk management."

"Even in a committed relationship," he continued, his words punctuated by the rhythmic, wet slap of skin on skin, "one must account for... ah, god... hormonal fluctuations and the ... the unpredictability of the human reproductive system. It's not just about pregnancy, it's about...shit...it's about hygiene, and the prevention of... of unnecessary... fuck, you feel so good."

He was losing it. The doctor was losing the battle against the man. He was supposed to be lecturing you on biological safeguards, but the way he was cursing under his breath low, dirty words that he’d never say in the hospital halls told a different story.

"You're being... so difficult," he groaned, his fingers moving to your waist, pulling you back harder against him. "Trying to... to bypass all the... damn it... the precautions. Do you have any idea what you're doing to my concentration?."

He leaned forward, his teeth grazing the nape of your neck, his voice dropping to a commanding whisper. "Stay still. Let me... let me take care of this properly. Fuck, if you keep making those sounds, the condom is going to be the least of our worries."

"Who cares about the... the statistics, Zayne!" you gasped, your forehead pressed against the cool sheets. "Just... fuck, just give it to me! It’s just us, isn't it?

You were rambling, throwing out half baked excuses about how you will feel "more connected" or how the latex was a "distracting from the sensory input" basically using his own medical vocabulary against him just to get what you wanted. You were cursing, too, your language losing all its usual politeness as the friction and the heat drove you toward a breaking point.

Then, suddenly, the fullness vanished.

"Why did you stop?" you demanded, your voice small and wounded, eyes searching his. "Zayne, why did you... "

He was hovering over you, his chest heaving, his hair mussed in a way that was entirely uncharacteristic of the composed man you knew. He looked down at you with an expression that was almost exasperated, that specific, "are you actually serious right now?" look he gave you when you forgot your keys or ignored his health advice.

He didn't need to say the words. You lunged for it, your fingers trembling as you gripped him, ripping the condom off.

The moment he slid back into you, skin on skin, the sensation was nothing short of transcendental.

" Fuck!" you breathed out.

"God, finally," he growled back.

The sight of your cunt clinging to his cock was enough to shatter even the most disciplined mind. Zayne, the man who could maintain a steady hand while repairing a human heart, lost his grip on reality. The friction, the warmth, and the intimacy of being inside you without any barrier sent him over the edge far faster than he ever thought possible.

He stiffened and with a few deep thrusts that felt like they were reaching your throat he broke. A sound between a moan and a curse escaped him as he collapsed against you, his breath coming in ragged gasps against your neck.

When he pulled out Zayne wasn't looking at your face. He was staring, almost hypnotically, downward. His gaze was fixed on the junction of your thighs, watching with a quiet, intense fascination as the evidence of his release, thick and pearly, slowly leaked from your plump pussy, tracing a slow path down your skin. He looked mesmerized.

"You know," you said, voice dripping with playful sarcasm, "for a man so obsessed with 'risk management' and 'preventative measures'..." You paused looking at his flushed face. "Your breeding kink is really showing, Doctor."

𓇼 RAFAYEL ⋆.˚ 𓆉𓆝 𓆡⋆࿔˚

Rafayel's been missing for thirteen minutes, forty seconds and counting.

Your grimace must be evident on your face, because Thomas wrings his hands nervously for the fifth time in a row. He's talking urgently in low voices to some staff, gaze snapping to yours every so often as if any moment now you'll have the answer to all his problems.

Unfortunately, the missed calls to your boyfriend only increase with the ticking time. You haven't seen the purple-haired man since he sauntered away with a glass of wine and his arm slung around the shoulders of a potential buyer.

The art exhibition is nothing short of astounding; Rafayel's been experimenting with his mediums as of late, working to incorporate stained glass into his paintings that leave the stunning works shining even more than usual. The warm lighting only adds to the nostalgia of his themed exhibit, creating a homely visage. Celtic blue swirls with seafoam green to create a universe of waves that you want to drown in.

If only the star of the show was here. Then, maybe, he could be witness to the compliments you have just at the tip of your tongue.

As if on cue, your phone begins to buzz in your hand. Thomas must have a sixth sense, because he jerks his head in your direction when you press the screen to your ear without a moment's hesitation. Thank the stars, he finally responded.

"Rafayel," you cut sharply to the point, ignoring how he's eerily silent on the other end save for his breathing. "Where the hell did you go? Thomas' been dragging his feet trying to play salesman for fifteen minutes now."

Haggard breaths. A sigh, almost wistful. Then, "Cutie, is t-that… is that any way to talk to me at the moment?"

Eyes narrowing, you plug your other ear to hear him better over the sea of noise in the exhibit.

"What are you talking about? Where are you? I swear, you—"

You get cut off by his whine. "God, you sound s'hot when you're mad. K-knew it'd be a—mmf..! Knew I shoulda called ya."

Blinking wildly, you try to still your stuttering heart and keep a poker face as Thomas gives you an inquisitive, almost pleading glance.

There was no way Rafayel was playing this game right now.

"Baby, m'sorry… you look so good in—god," his shuddering breath sends chills down your spine, "In that dress I chose for ya tonight, you're so divine… jus' couldn't help it, I swear…"

Faintly, under the buzz of the call connection, you can hear the wet, slick sounds his hand is making. It seems to be a torturous pace, one you know he enjoys when he wants to drag the moment on between you two. Something begins to simmer, aching and familiar, in your lower abdomen.

You curse under your breath. The line must've picked it up, though, because another groan slips through the call.

"C-cutie, can't y'come here and help? Dun'ya hear how much I want ya?" Rafayel's growing more needy by the minute.

You can almost picture him: legs spread, strands mussed and sticking to his hairline from sweat, fucking into his fist like it's you. The image makes you close your eyes, massaging your temple, praying to whatever universal being was listening right now that you could stay rational for just a bit longer to get his location.

"Promise we'll go back to the exhibit right after, promise… Gods, baby, the things you do to me. You're so perfect. Miss your pretty hands, miss your pretty mouth, miss your—haah!—pretty pussy."

"Where are you?" Your voice comes out hoarser than you'd hope.

To your horror, Thomas seems to have had enough of your silence, beginning to make his way through the crowd to your spot against the wall.

The squelches quiet down, but they’re exchanged for harsh panting and babbles of compliments. "Soo pretty, wanna cum so bad in your pretty lil’ cunt, I bet she’d eat it riiight up, oh my go-ood—"

Thomas is trying to get your attention now, waving his hand in your direction. He’s only a few feet away. Your breath hitches.

"Raf, baby, I need to know where you are. Talk to me."

A long, broken groan has the last bits of your sanity leaking out of you. "S-storage closet. Red door. Out the exhibit hall and—ohmygodohfuck—to t-the left.."

"Be right there. Don't cum yet."

You barely register his moan before you hang up, breathless and hot all over. There's something sticky between your thighs that's sliding down, threatening to spill out the slit in your dress, and you let out a shaky huff.

"Hey, was that Rafayel? Where is h—oof!"

Thomas' eyes widen at you when you push past him without a second glance, beelining towards the doors of the hall. You're already apologizing to him in your mind, but the words that leave your mouth are a bit different than a 'sorry'.

"I'll be back with him in fifteen—it's an emergency. Hold down the fort until then."

⏾ XAVIER .𖥔݁ ˖︎ ִ ༄˖°.

It's almost noon when Xavier calls you.

Which, to be fair, is pretty normal when it comes to him and the weekends—if you're not over at his apartment with him, acting as his personal alarm clock with your peppering kisses and soft coos, he sees no reason to wake up early otherwise.

You're fresh out of the shower, skin dewy and drying your hair when your phone on the counter starts to buzz with his familiar custom ringtone. Humming to yourself, you swipe to accept, putting him on speaker. "Hey, what's up?"

He doesn't answer right away. That should've been enough to sound the alarm bells in your head.

"Xavier?"

You frown and turn the volume up—only to startle when his soft groan echoes throughout your bathroom, lingering in the air like steam.

"Mmf… shit, love, that's it…"

Mouth agape, your hands stop in their tracks, leaving you frozen in place.

Your boyfriend's voice crackles through the speaker again, this time in a distant whimper. "Jus' like that, ah, f-fuck."

Does he even know he's calling you right now? You pick up your phone with trembling fingers and bring it close to your face. "Xavier, can you hear me?"

A pause. There's the low sound of shuffling before he speaks again. It's clearer now.

"Mm, starlight? When did we get on call…"

Embarrassment flushes through you from head to toe. You squirm, suddenly feeling self-conscious of your naked state even though he wasn't even physically near you. On the other end of the line, slow, wet squelches start up—shallow, but sure, and you find yourself whispering in the emptiness of your bathroom.

"Did you not mean to call? S-sorry, I'll hang up now—"

"Wait." Xavier's tone is feathery, light, blissful. "N-no. Stay, please. With me."

Your breath catches in your throat. The towel now wrapped haphazardly around your torso, you click the bathroom door shut behind you as you scurry into your bedroom. Your lip is almost drawing blood from how hard you're biting it.

Xavier, to your surprise, doesn’t let up on pleasuring himself. If anything, the wet strokes of him have gotten more confident.

"Sorry, I think I—haah—I accidentally called you while looking at your photos." He's so loud in your room, even though he's only murmuring to his phone's mic. "Woke up and jus' couldn't stop thinkin' about you… what're y-you doing right now, love?"

As he talks, you rub your thighs together, frantically searching for something somewhat modest to wear for the thirty second trip to his apartment. His sleepy voice sounds so heavenly; if it weren't for the rules of etiquette droned into you and your status as a reputable hunter, you'd have dropped everything and gone upstairs in nothing but your towel right then and there.

"Just finished showering, can I come see you? Now?"

And Xavier, he has the goddamn audacity to chuckle—like he's amused by the rushed words spilling from your lips.

"Why, starlight? So you can—nghh, god—so you can join me in what I'm—I’m doing?"

"Xav…"

Harsh breaths can be heard from your phone now. He's picking up speed, moaning and letting out little whines when he squeezes himself just right.

You wonder what position he's in; maybe sprawled out on the bed, head tossed back against the headboard and eyes softly screwed shut. His hands, they're probably wrapped around the tip, tightening just like you do when you get on your knees for him. The thought makes the supernova in your stomach burn hot and bright.

And then you almost choke when a picture comes through your chat with him.

It's of Xavier's own abdomen, slick with precum, the head of his cock swollen and glistening in the low light. In the background you can make out the fucked out expression he has from his parted lips, the tiniest tip of his tongue peeking out from concentration.

Holy fuck.

"Love? Y—you, hhaaah… you still here w'me?"

"Yeah yeah yeah, m'here." Your words slur together, but he seems to understand just fine as you finally find something to put on.

His hoodie hangs from your figure as you wrestle on a pair of shorts, foregoing the underwear. The fabric unexpectedly brushes against your puffy clit, making you let out a gasp, and his reaction is immediate—Xavier groans, the obscene sounds slowing down to something more promising, more filthy.

"S-starlight.. upstairs. Now. Before I—ahh, oh my go-ood—before I come down there myself. And I won't be a-as modest as you are."

The lump in your throat is thick to swallow. You scramble for the door, keys clinking against each other in your hand, and Xavier makes a noise of approval.

"C-coming, Xav. Wait for me."

"Always. See—see you.. aah... see you soon, love."

Click.

ᯓ ✈︎︎ CALEB ⋆°•☁︎︎.ೃ࿔

It started out innocent enough. At least, that's what you thought.

Caleb had called you for his well-deserved daily updates: the missions you went on, what kind of lunch you had, even a recount of the fluffy dog you got to pet today on the way home from work. It's late, and you're tucked into bed, phone nestled close to your ear so you can hear the low intones of his comments.

He gives a small huff of laughter in response to your story of the shiba-inu refusing to leave your side until you ruffled the fur on it's head. Multiple times. "I don't blame 'em. I'd do the same if I was that dog."

You roll your eyes even though he can't see you. "You do it anyways, even though you aren't a dog."

That gets a real laugh out of him. The sound reverberates in the silence of your room, and you smile into your pillow; if you close your eyes, you can almost convince yourself he's with you right now instead of up in Skyhaven.

"Do I now, pips? Name one time I've acted like that."

Glaring at your phone, you scoff.

"Oh, please. What about that time you wouldn't let me leave for my mission until I gave you a kiss? Or that time you practically whined at me to give you headpats."

There's movement on his end—the sound of bedsheets rustling, of him taking in a deep breath.

"Y-yeah? Bet those are the only two you can name, though."

Was he really challenging you over something as petty as this? You can't believe your boyfriend. Sitting up, you press the phone to your ear hotly, pouting. "Don't tell me you've forgotten the time you almost knocked me over in a tackle the second I came through the door of your house, slobbering me with your kisses. You're like a big ol' golden retriever, you know that?"

"I can name so many others, too," you threaten, rambling on and not realizing he's gone quiet. "I'm surprised you haven't grown two fluffy ears and a tail yet."

Silence.

"Caleb?" You furrow your brows, worried you accidentally hurt his feelings. "You okay?"

"Mmmhm.. yeah, pips, I'm—I'm fine," he grunts. "Keep talkin'. What else did'ya do today?"

You open your mouth to give a retort that he does not, in fact, sound fine, when he lets out a shaky exhale.

And then the gears clink into place.

"Caleb, are you getting off to my voice?"

Caught red-handed, there's a lengthy pause from him—then, he just chuckles, warm and soothing. It crawls through your ear and shoots straight to your gut, settling there and beginning to burn.

"What else am I meant t'do when—ugh, fuck—my perfect girl is talking to me in such a degrading way?"

Your cheeks run hot with shame. Sputtering for an answer, you clench your fists and try to ignore the way your cunt is starting to flutter wildly at his words.

"How long have you been…?"

"Mnnggh… do the specifics really matter, pips?" You can just hear his shit-eating grin through the phone. "Let's jus' say I love listening to my girl talk. That's—haah!—that's all."

Caleb seems to take your lack of response as permission to continue. Now that his secret's out, he seems to let go a little, all rough breaths and throaty groans. Underneath the layer of his melodic sounds is the unmistakable plap, plap, plap of his calloused hand meeting the base of his cock. You wipe away the drool beginning to collect at the corner of your mouth.

"God, pips, why'd'ya have to be so far away?" Caleb's gripes are muffled by his moans as he chases his release. "Fuck, you hear me gettin' off t'ya? Listen to what you do t'me, pretty girl. Just your voice and I'm gone. All f'you, pips, hahh—fuck."

Your fingers are moving without you realizing, slowly starting to circle your clit. Your moans are softer than Caleb's, barely even there, but he notices. He always does. And he revels in it.

"Yeah? You touchin' yourself f'me, pips? Gettin' yourself all nice and wet for me? C'mon, big girl, use your words."

Spurred on by his encouragement, you dip a finger inside yourself, wishing it was his thick fingers instead. You can't get enough of his gruff tone, so close to spilling his cum all over his hands, and fuck—it should be you he's cumming in—

"C-caleb… need you…"

"Dontcha worry, pretty girl, you got me," he groans, your stomach doing backflips at his voice; it's choked up, raw, desperate.

"I'm all yours, 'kay? When I visit you next—ohh, fuckin' hell—I'll remind ya just how much I belong t'you. Like a dog."

𓅇 SYLUS ࿐ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

The ballroom is extravagant, cheery.

Golden light spills from the chandeliers hanging above, flames flickering and encasing the walls in a glorious glow. Guests mill about, making endless conversation with one another as glasses clink in toasts and lively laughter bursts forth from them.

And you?

You're writhing in your seat, trying not to flit back and forth to your phone like some desperate stray cat meowing for attention.

It had been six minutes. Six, agonizing minutes, since Sylus last responded to your text.

And you know he read it—the tag on the message was almost immediate, with the typing bubble showing up only for a brief moment before disappearing completely. Now the 'read' tag mocks you, forcing you to bite your lip and look away before you can send a double text.

One thing about Sylus is that he had wit. Wit that exhausted your own at times. Banter was simple, easy, yet also incredibly frustrating at times—because there were moments where he left you completely vulnerable to his words, wrapping you around his finger like you're some ring he treasures. Moments where he took complete pride in making you melt; something you weren't used to.

This was one of those moments.

You've been trying to get a rise out of him all night through text, sending suggestive innuendos and even breathless voice notes.

Mission at the Galleria in Linkon tonight. Wish you were here with me to see my dress, love. And maybe what's underneath it too.

Careful, kitten, is all he typed in response. The Galleria is hungry for a feast if it's delivered to them.

Sylus, there's someone who's been eying me all night. Any words of advice?

Put on a show for them, sweetie. Let me know how it goes.

Love, can I come over after the mission? I believe I'll need some help… getting ready for bed.

Oh? And what kind of help do you require?

The back of my dress is hard to undo. Unless you'd like me to ask someone else for help?

And then—silence.

It's not fair.

He always has to have the last say, the last smirk in the conversation before it ends. If not, then you were met with a wall of unresponsiveness. It was infuriating.

Intel gathered and mission now completed, you sat helplessly there in the ballroom, wracking your brain for something to get him to respond, to visibly crack. Anything would do at this point.

And then you remembered cameras were an option.

The bathroom stall had been cramped and a little hard to work with, but you were making do. Your dress was hiked to your waist, fingers spreading your pussy wide for the shine of your phone's camera, mewling his name as you plunge another digit of yours into your weeping hole. "S-sylus… nghh… why're you ignoring me…?"

"Not fair," you sob, "You're not fair... you're so, so mean…"

With a muffled cry into your free hand, you cum, weak and pitiful. The video is shaky as you end and send it without a second thought, trying to come down from your unsatisfying high.

Tick. The 'read' tag comes instantly. You pause, fingers still sticky from your juices, biting your lip as you wait for him to watch the video.

He doesn't give a reply until you're washing your hands—or, rather, he doesn't contact you until you're wringing your hands dry.

A waste of paper towels, in hindsight.

When you pick up the phone, his sweet voice comes through, smooth and tinged with amusement. "Was it good, kitten?"

You huff. "If all you're going to do is taunt me, I'd rather you hang up right now to spare me the embarrassment."

The hallway is quiet as your heels click on the marbled floor, heading back to the ballroom. There's no one but you as you pass by marvelous portraits and vases full of magnificent blossoms.

"Who said that's all I was doing when I called you?" His reply is slow, calculated. Heavy. "And here I thought you were the observant type, sweetie. Did your orgasm really hit your senses that hard? From what I saw, it seems like you were still... hungry."

You stop walking, listening to him speak through the phone. There it is.

The hitch in his voice, the weighty pauses he has to take for breaths in between his sentences. The faint murmurs of pleasure as he palms himself through his pants.

"Sylus?" You whisper, nails pressing so hard to your palms they're creating little crescent marks.

"Mmm, yes, kitten? Is there something you desire?" He drawls, letting out a breathy, sinfully pleasant sigh at the end of his question. "If there is, all you have to do is ask… nicely, you know."

"Pick me up so you can fuck me on your motorcycle." You squeeze your eyes shut. "Please?"

And Sylus groans, velvet voice turning rough, his harsh pants coming through your phone speaker and catching you off guard. "Atta girl. See, wasn't so—mmf—wasn't that hard to please me, was it? Send me your... ngh, send me the coordinates, kitten. Be there in five minutes max."

⋆❆˚ ZAYNE ｡⊹❅˙.

Have to work overtime again tonight, I'll text you when I get home. Get some good rest.

Another text comes through soon after.

I can't wait to see you tomorrow.

You send Zayne a snowman sticker from your place under the covers, giggling at the immediate tick indicating he's read it. Your fingers fly across your phone’s keyboard.

Good luck! You got this! Instead of texting me back, though, just call. I'll pick up. I think I'm more impatient than you :P

Turning off your phone, you settle into the soft sheets of your bed and let out a quiet breath of contentment. Your muscles ached from constant missions and dealing with dangerous anomalies. That, coupled with the fact that you haven't seen your lovely boyfriend since last week, has left you feeling distressed—in more ways than one.

It's okay, you try to argue to yourself. You'll be seeing him, feeling him, tomorrow. Hold on just a little longer.

Still, you hug your pillow a little closer to you, imagining it's his toasty, bare arm that cradles you from behind. The heater clicks on, your breaths slow, and before you know it, sleep gently coaxes you into its embrace for the night.

Bzzt, bzzt. Bzzt, bzzt.

"Hello?" You groggily turn to lay on your back as you press the phone to your ear, staring up at the ceiling and blinking until the fuzziness in your vision disappears. "Zayne?"

His voice sends a pleasant wave of warmth through your bones. "Yes, it's me. Did I wake you, darling?"

A door clicks shut on his end. He must've just gotten home. You squint at the time, noting it's a little past three in the morning.

"No," you lie, grinning lazily when Zayne only scoffs.

The steady, sure stream of a faucet running lets you know he's in the bathroom beginning to wind down for the night. You hum in response to his stories from the day's work, details about upcoming surgeries and how his patients have been. To anyone else, he may as well be reading a shopping list for groceries, but you pick up on his strained tone and the heavy sighs he lets out between anecdotes.

You wait until you're certain he's settled in bed before you make your move. "You've been stressed the entire week. I wish there was something I could do to help."

"You're doing everything just right, sweetheart," comes his sweet, soft mumble. "Calling you… I've missed your voice, incredibly so. I couldn't wait to get home."

There's a small smirk playing on your face, knowing exactly what path this conversation is about to go down.

"Careful, doctor," you singsong. "With that tone of yours, it almost sounds like you've been excited about this all day."

He picks up on what you're insinuating immediately, tone shifting to something more husky when he replies. It makes your stomach do a somersault.

"Oh? You wouldn't exactly be wrong to say such a thing, darling. It seems not just me, but my body in its entirety, has been aching for you."

Your thighs instinctively clench when his voice drops an octave. You can imagine the moments before he called so perfectly—Zayne, stumbling out of his car, painfully hard and phone in hand, eager to call you the second he steps through the threshold of his home. Zayne, biting his lip to stop the groans spilling out while he washes his hands and face, listening intently to the sound of your labored breathing over the phone line. Zayne, slipping into nothing but gray sweatpants that darken immediately from his pre, who still insists on trying to talk to you somewhat normally despite his weeping cock.

And Zayne, who falls apart the moment you breath a whiny, "Me too, pretty boy. Missed you so much."

It doesn't take long for his moans to be all that fills your brain, your loud cries spurring on his filthy mouth as he thrusts up into his fist like his life depends on it.

"Darling, o-ohh... darling. This—this was your plan all along, wasn't it? Nghh... you vixen..."

A third finger squeezes its way into your pussy, and you out a whimper. "J—just, hic, just missed you soo much, need your fingers, need your—mmpff!—big cock!"

The stretch is delicious, and Zayne's throaty groan at your words is doing nothing to stop the tightening coil low in your gut, hot and taut and ready to burst. Your thumb flicks at your clit and you arch your back, swearing that you can see white spots at the edge of your vision—

"W-wait, da—oohhh—darling," he pants. "Stop. Stop touching yourself."

You whine incessantly but pull your fingers away, crying softly into your phone's mic. "Noooo… m'soooooooo close… Zayne, not fair…"

So far gone, you fail to register the scuffling of clothes before a door is slammed shut—loudly, hurriedly. Keys jingle, and your lashes flutter as you try to make out what your boyfriend is doing and why it's not talking you through an orgasm.

"Give me ten minutes, sweetheart." Zayne's voice is raw from moaning, a fact that has slick drooling out of your empty cunt. "I'm not able to wait until tomorrow, so tonight it is."

"B-but—"

"No touching," he commands. "Not until I get there and you can cream around my cock like you were made to do."

Looks like you need to hold on just a little longer for a different reason, now.

caleb’s so loud— excessively loud compared to usual his tone, which should be a personal record. his head is thrown back, lost beyond recognition in the tight space of your pussy as his fingertips dig painfully into your skin, deep enough to leave dark purple bruises that scream his name the next morning. “ f-fuck, pips, feels s-so good, squeezin’ me to death… please.”

the barely conscious part of his body doesn’t even know what he’s begging for, his mind too fuzzy to think any thoughts that doesn’t involve you or your heaven made pussy, made for him. everything about you were made for him.

“ caleb,” you whimpered, hips defying your body’s fatigued body by bucking towards his mean thrusts, that didn’t look close to stopping any time soon. he was so big, and not a gentle giant whatsoever. molding out your pussy with such deadly accuracy, the sheer girth of it stretched and beat your insides while you bit down harshly on your lip, trying your best not to get a noise complaint… again. “ s-shut up, too loud.”

“ no. you don’t get to complain when you did this to m-me.” his hair is matted with sweat as his purple-orange eyes are dark with passion. he pants and whines every second and you’re close to shoving your fingers in his mouth. but he can’t help it; the way how you clamp and squeeze around him makes his head spin, and faintly he can see stars paint his vision.

the state of your shared apartment is nothing but disarray. you were scrolling on your phone in the living, almost forgetting that you even made him a milkshake until a familiar evol snatched your phone out of your hands, plopping it on the couch cushions beside you as his already tall frame made you feel like an ant in comparison. his pupils were dilated, almost painting his purple eyes black as his hands are braced behind you on the couch. your eyes trailed down to his obvious, straining bulge and that’s when you knew you were fucked.

quite literally as of now.

“ don’t think of anything if it doesn’t involve me.” your thoughts are interrupted as caleb presses down roughly on your clit, flicking and rolling the bud in tight circles as you cry out loudly. “ there we gooo, is this the same girl worried about the neighbors? don’t act like i’m the only one who’s affect—”

“ i said shut up.”

you plunge your thumb into his mouth, and he moans. equal parts loud as it is pornographic, contrasting the reason why you did it anyway.

his sloppy tongue twirls over your digit, tongue gliding around it with ease before he stops to suck the skin, and you feel your walls spasm around his cock with a threat to cum early.

“ c-caleb! you weirdo!” he muffles a moan around your thumb, purple eyes staring into yours without any apparent shame, before letting it go with a wet pop to claim your lips in an intense kiss. one that has your head spinning and your air limited by the second as he kisses you deeper and deeper, leaving your lips bruisingly plump.

“ y’see what you’ve done to me, sweets? i want you to t-take full responsibility,” his voice is raspy. the only time you’ve heard him this vulnerable is when he tried to hide his sickness from you. you rolled your eyes, leaning up to nip his bottom lip with your teeth, soaking in the way how his breath hitches and how his eyes are watery with the overwhelming need to cum.

his free hand presses your hips into the bouncy mattress, now desperately hitting your g-spot, while sliding against your cervix as he fucks all frustrations into you, for the nth time this night. you wiggle, trying to break free of his grasp but it was no use; those years of training really paid off. “ don’t run. f-fuck, just take me, take it all.”

but then he suddenly stops, and you register that it’s because he’s cumming inside of you. his hot fluid flows in your walls deeply, filling you up to a point where more spills out his dick as a useless plug and stains the sheets and your inner thighs. caleb feels as if his soul left out along with his cum, his body buzzes and stills only unclenching when he’s done shooting sparks into you. “ fuck.. you feel so g-good. take it all… just for me.”

his hot body collapses onto your overstimulated one; he looks like he’s been pushed past what he could handle and you’re not even mad he didn’t make you cum this round. your hand comes up to cradle your hair as you make a mental note to become the aphrodisiac chocolate company’s number one sponsor.

XAVIER ☆

to all your friends at girls’ night who convinced you to give your husband— with an already insanely high libido, mind you. those aphrodisiac chocolate: thank you, on behalf of your pussy and dopamine levels. and also fuck you, on behalf of your sore body and your neighbors.

“ such a naughty, dumb girl.” your husband taunts, facing your backside arched in front of his face. he’s got you squirming while facing his cock. see, the thing is, xavier knew you were up to something. he always does. so when you tried to make him eat the chocolate alone, he didn’t budge until you ate a piece with him, landing you in this current situation with ‘ stupid’ written all over your forehead. you should know by now he’s a fox wearing a bunny’s suit.

“ tried to make me horny by myself, but you’re just as bad as i am right now.”

“ x-xavier!” you bite your lip, body’s sensitive heightening as his tongue slides its way into your syrupy goodness, mapping out every nook and cranny with faux indifference. that is, if it weren’t for his cock standing upright, the tip flushed an angry red while droplets of precum roll down the sides. “ ohh, fuuuuck! need more.”

“ you say that while neglecting me. take it in your mouth, allllll the way,” your attention is centered on his cock; it looks so beautiful, very fitting for the man indeed. your mouth salivates with want. your plump lips part to allow your tongue to roll against his slit, while your fingers pump the base. you plant a kiss; his hips jerk in response before stilling as you gulp what you can take of him. “ gooood girl, don’t forget to breathe through your nose, star.”

he gives your ass a playful slap, but his hands are rough from years of wielding a sword so pain blooms where his palm connects. your gargled moan around his cock vibrates the skin, sending a buzzing sensation traveling in his veins— spurring more slaps to bloom on your recoiling skin.

his wandering mouth finally makes home on your twitching clit, slurping and sucking the bundle of nerves, creating a lingering need to paint his lower face in your cum, so you roll your hips back to ride against his face. “ shouldn’t even let you cum, after you tried to trick me. but since you failed you better make it messy, wan’ it e-everywhere.”

xavier spreads your ass apart, feeding himself the wetness presented to him. his hands move from the jiggly flesh to keep your hips still as you squirm from the severity. you gulp in as much air as you can while stroking him languidly. “ o-ohhh, ‘m gonna cum. can feel it, wanna cum on your face, xavi.”

“ make me cum with you. or else i won’t touch you for a week.”

because you’re deep in the moment, you bite down the urge to call him on his bluff. the man can barely last three days without touching you in some type of way.

“ xavierrrr, p-please, you’re so mean!” you moan, suddenly being filled by his fingers pushing past the tight pucker of your hole. caught up in your bliss, you’re reminded of his selfish warning. the grip around his base is tight, leaving no space of skin shown between your fingers as you jerk him off vigorously— your saliva helping to make the motion smoother.

“ give it to me, baby. fuck, you’re doing so good. ride my face, baby. mmfuck…” his voice had deepened a few octaves, throaty moans escaping his chest and flooding the room along with your high-pitched wails. he scissors your walls that invite his digits in so greedily, bringing to your end and impossibly past it. “ cum with m-me, heh. you’re so pretty, so greedy.”

you give him a show as you cum, pretty pussy growing wetter as you ride your high out. although it feels as the room is spinning, you pump xavier’s cock, which spurts white, heavy fluid. you aim your face in that direction, letting sticky splats of cum dribble down your forehead to your chin.

the room silences with a huff as you both come down from your earth-shattering highs— that is before you feel a familiar tingle kiss your drooling pussy, your world is flipped. now conscious of your body half-hanging off the bed as he spreads your thighs to place them on his shoulders.

smiling down at you as dread settles in. you take note of the sunset, and how it’ll be rising in a couple hours by the time he’s done with you.

SYLUS ☆

you and sylus were headed to an auction, for whatever reason you don’t care to know. but since you both were bored in a room full of shady business dealers, you decided then… what is a better time to try an aphrodisiac and try not to touch each other for the whole night than this one right now?

spoiler alert: he lost.

“ my mischievous wife…” sylus grunts, his hips moving at a snail’s pace, certainly doing this on purpose to reflect your earlier teasing back on you now. your thighs tremble around his slutty waist, fingers digging into his forearms, as your foreheads touch while you breathe soft whimpers into his hot mouth. the pace that he’s going makes you keenly aware of every single inch of him, and how his tip latched on your slobbering slit, before sinking out in your walls leisurely. “ did it turn you on seeing me struggle to hold back my lust while in a room full of people who wants my head? you’re such a nasty girl…”

“ what e-else was a better time to do it than now?” your voice has a breathless pitch to them, close to begging and pleading as your cheeky husband misses your sweet spots on purpose while dragging his thrusts out, and you’re now starting to regret buying the damn chocolate. “ sylus… stop teasing me.”

“ ohhh? now the sly kitten doesn’t like when i tease her back…” he nips your lip, enough to sting but not enough to draw blood. he pulls out of your walls completely, resting the heated length against your pussy, and even then, it nearly grazes your belly button.

his chuckles heat the space between you both while rubbing his wet cock up and down your slit, parting your folds and catching your clit before circling down to your eager hole, just to repeat the cycle all over again. “ tell me, why should i let you cum? after dancing around with other men all night, it’s only fair i get back at you.”

so he was mad. it’s not your fault, really. it had been a couple hours after taking the chocolate; sylus played the part of looking unbothered— not a hair out of place or sweat staining his smooth skin. you, on the other hand… were a mess. seated at one of the tables in the corner, isolated from the rest of the crowd while getting wetter by the minute, where a bright idea sparked in your mind. ‘ why not make him jealous?’

bright side? it worked. down side? you’re sure you’ll end up being the female version of blue balled if he’s feeling particularly merciless tonight.

“ sylus… you are so… petty.” you can’t find the words to express your frustration as you look at your husband above you, basking in your despair.

“ learned from the best. maybe if you’ll beg me i’ll spare you?”

he asks, but his question is not a question; it’s a demand. and you fall captive to it. wrapping your legs tighter around him, the only barrier between your pelvises is his hardened dick resting on your mound, still grinding up and down. you pull out your best trick; pouty lips and teary doe eyes. “ pleaaaaase, sylie? wanna cum, don’t you want to make your pretty girl cum to—”

he bottoms into you with one thrust, making you hiss out a scream as your nails scratch down his forearms. he abandons the slow pace he maintained earlier; this time the car rocks along your body from the power of his hips.

with his hands, he removes your quivering legs from around his waist, pressing your knees together and to your chest as you get to feel your walls make room for him, touching beyond your sweet spot, his rounded tip bruising your cervix.

“ s-sylus! slow down, we’re gonna get caugh… oh m’god! you feel so good!” there’s no room for you to shift your body away— all you can do is hang onto his shoulders and throw your head back into the headrest as he fills your senses with vulgarities.

“ don’t start caring about them now; you never did before.” sylus responds more to himself rather than you. he drags his cock in and out of you; the loud sounds make him even harder as he observes your pleasure twisted expression, paired with your boobs bouncing up and down, matching the rhythm of his hips. “ on that note… i think you can do without an orgasm, don’t you agree, sweetie?”

“ n-no, i’m sooory! won’t ever do it again, just please let me cuuuuum!” your hands scramble for purchase on his hips, dragging him closer to give the attention your neglected clit craves. but he doesn’t listen, pinning your wrists together and above your head while you plead for your anticipated orgasm.

“ gonna cum. you’ll be a good girl and walk back in there, be docile and wait for me to come back and help you, won’t you?” his voice meets your ear, biting the skin playfully. his free hand presses down against your womb to make you familiar with the idea of being filled up, right now. his tempo weakens as creamy cum floods into your walls, rapidly— even some spilling out your stuffed pussy and onto the seats below your moving bodies.

your cunt constricts around him, thinking he’ll grant your mercy and let you cum last minute as a surprise. but you should know sylus better than that. his softening dick pulls out you with a squelching ‘ pop!’ noise, fingers pulling your panties and dress back down.

“ let’s go back. shall we?”

ZAYNE ☆

leaving aphrodisiac chocolate around your husband who’s also a sweet-tooth connoisseur was a dangerous game that you proudly pressed play on. knowing that sneak at least one or two if you left them in the fridge, you glow in amusement watching him suffer silently.

until you made eye contact with him.

“ arch your back, deeper— no… that doesn’t mean look away from the mirror.” his gentle hand holds your chin to direct your overcasted stare to the rectangular mirror propped on the wall facing you, imaging the filthy position you're bent into while zayne grabs your round hips for sturdiness.

“ f-fuuuck, zayne… i don’t wanna look. it’s embarrassing!” you whimpered, fingers bunching the sheets into your sweaty clutch, mouth dropping into an obscene ‘ o’ shape when his dick parts your gummy walls to slam against your cervix with reckless abandon. the velocity he started with didn’t take time to develop like how sex with zayne usually goes; instead of gradually building up the speed and force like he’d would, his one mission seems to be to break you. “ you’re going too f-fast, mmmph!”

“ i know,” he shivers out a laugh, watching your ass bounce off his pelvis in hypnotic circles while your sweaty back is on display, curved and glistening. he can’t help but to plant a flurry of slaps on the skin, making your color a stained shade of maddened red. his cock shudders in its confinement in your tense walls, absurdly growing harder when he hears cute sobbing murmurs escape from your bottom lip, which you bite down on harshly.

his hazel-green eyes notice your hair is blocking your face, hiding his favorite expression you do while he drives you dick crazy. he reaches forward, swiping your hair away from your flushed face, keeping his hand in the soft locs just to wrap it tightly around his fist. “ but you’ll take it, like you always do. and this time you’ll cum for me while looking in the mirror, so you can see how beautiful you are.”

“ z-zayne!” your words a drawn-out slur as his cock sloppily makes out with each part of your cunt, massaging the walls to wrap around his length with a strength akin to a headlock. he’s hitting all your spots with the curiosity of solving a puzzle or mapping his way through a maze— the maze being your pussy, of course. “ fuck meee! please, don’ stop f-fucking me.”

“ i don’t plan on stopping. not until your voice goes hoarse from screaming my name, or until your legs can’t stand.” the man is crazed; is that even the correct word to describe him with? his usual lust is overbearing, but manageable, but now… you don’t know when you’ll break out of his clutch, and it looks like it won’t be anytime soon.

your eyes gloss over while your mouth is hung open as drool leaks from the corners; he’s just so big and ruthless, stretching and expanding your slovenly pussy to fit around the outline of his cock. “ i want to punish you, but it feels so good like this, h-hah. you’ll learn by tonight not to leave your a-aphrodisiacs around.”

you can’t tell if he’s complaining or praising you, at this point it feels like both. can he truly be mad when he’s fucking into with no tomorrow? practically on a sex high.

each thrust, each push is deeper than the last, making sure that after you’re done, you’ll be able to feel him for weeks after, with his lesson ingrained in your body.

your eyes make contact with his in the mirror, and he looks nothing short of a wreck, along with the room for that matter. the pillows and covers are shoved on the floor from when he had first claimed you and you hid your moans in the soft cushions, his pale skin adorned the red lines your nails scratched. but the dealbreaker is the pussydrunk smirk he has, taking pride in the way he's turning you unrecognizable.

“ wanna cum, don’t stop until you make me cum, pretty pleaseeee?”

“ you want to cum? hmm, alright…” his hand switches from tugging on your now, unkempt hair to grabbing your throat, pulling you upwards where your back meets his chest and your wholeheartedly depending on your knees to prevent you from smacking face first into the rocking mattress below. “ you’ll cum like this then, and while you’re at it, give a show for me, princess?”

knowing what he’s referencing, you slip your hand down to stroke your clit in broad circles, growing wetter as you watch yourself getting stretched from position to position like you’re some type of rubber band. “ fuck, ‘m close. you’re so n-nasty, zaynie.”

“ and yet you still followed my demand, like a good girl. not that you had a choice though…” he doesn’t bother to look at you while he talks, sucking your skin that escapes the grasp of his fingers to mark the flesh behind. his hips are rude, punching soft gasps out of you while effectively dizzying your sight.

like clockwork, your body stills, releasing an inaudible scream as your vision goes from grainy to completely black as your high crashes over you, shooting sparks of wetness that spray far, drenching the bed and your eyes roll into the back of your head. your knees wobble while the rest of your body breaks into uncontrollable trembles as it feels like your soul was just fucked out of you. “ i’m the nasty one, she says while squirting on our bed like she sprung a leak.”

“ zaynieee! ‘s too much!” you still manage to babble out words, feeling his thrusts go uncoordinated as a silent reminder that he’s close to cumming, and you won’t go anywhere until he’s done.

“ a-almost done, you can take it, you did before…” his hips buck to desperately chase his pleasure, your hands coming behind to hold on his arms for the ride, displaying your bouncing boobs and how your body rocks forward freely. his brow furrows and the kisses he once placed are covered up with a sharp bite as his orgasm suddenly explodes over all his senses. suddenly, he stops; the break you have can’t even be considered one as your insides are painted his cum that fills you up in one go.

when he’s done twitching and cumming against your back, he pulls out, kissing your lips briefly before a broad arm flips you into another position. this time you’re sideways with him behind, holding your leg up.

“ i told you before… we’re far from done.”

RAFAYEL ☆

treading the waters by feeding aphrodisiac chocolate to your husband when he was in one of his moods was a risk itself, dual eyes staring at you with a deep pout as you fed him the chocolates from the side of the tub, only removing yourself when his gaze grew heavy, like he was undressing you with his eyes.

and soon enough, you were, with an angry lemurian spewing all types of profanity behind your moving body.

“ next time you want me to fuck your brains out, just ask properly, cutie.” rafayel is resting beneath you, broad back leaning against the creaking headboard as your ass bounces in hypnotic circles on his lap. lazily, he brings his hand up to slap your skin, getting a twisted sense of satisfaction as you whimper from the heat of the sting. his cock dragged deeply into your cunt, per his demand, stating that since you wanted him so badly, you’ll have to work for it. “ don’t think about slowing down; keep going until i c-cum.”

his airy voice trembles, a sign that he’s actually about to cum soon, and you grind down on him even faster— not stopping until your thighs burn with an overwhelming heat and your walls are salaciously being painted in his fluids.

“ shit… you and those slutty h-hips.” his head is thrown back, adam apple bobbing as he gulps down; there is a line of sweat that rolls down his neck, which you want to chase with your tongue to taste him. still placed on his lap, you lean back to bring him into a kiss that is malicious as it is passionate. your tongue fights over dominance with his, spit dribbling down your chins, and you only lose when he begins to suck on your tongue, making eye contact as he does so. “ you like it when i do that? wish it was my tongue on your clit instead, don’t you?”

he decides to prove his theory true. calloused hands pulling you off his dick, just to flip you over in one go, without his arms so much as trembling. face to face with your oozing cunt, he parts the folds with his thumbs accompanying your thighs on both sides, mouth watering as you push out more of his cum.

“ h-huh? what are you doing?” you whisper, growing more and more embarrassed as he unflinchingly stares at your leaking cunt. paying no attention to you, he dips his head low, tongue peeking out as he follows where his cum rolls down to your puckered hole, leading back up to your clit to give it a wet kiss. the sensitivity paired with his ignorance causes a heaving sensation to wash over your body, hands scrambling to his hair for a semblance of control, you ask again, “ rafayel! w-what are you doing?”

“ unlike you, pretty girl, i like to clean up my messes.” he gives your clit cute kitten licks, thumb teasing your hole by barely dipping in the tissue as he does so. “ i wouldn’t want my lover to walk around in a mess that i made, while i ignore their presence.”

okay, next time, which there will definitely be, you won’t walk away while he battles a raging boner and to not tackle you down where you stand, which he ultimately did.

“ i literally just got done riding you!”

“ mmm, still not enough.”

“ it s-should be!” your brows furrow in a deep brow as his slick tongue devours the rest of his cum from out your pussy. the grip on your thighs spreads them far apart as they twitch and tremble around his head, while he feasts on your pussy as if it’s his last meal. soon enough, all prior complaints melt away where tension in your lower stomach replaces it as he doesn’t look like he’ll resurface for air anytime soon. in his mind, you look ethereal like this, spread out for him like a platter that he happily indulges in. “ wait, please don’t stop!”

he lets out a throaty chuckle; the vibrations reflect back to you, and every time you squirm he suckles harder. “ it didn’t take long for you to give in… how funny. you know that i’ll always bring out that shameless side out of you, eeeevry time.”

when he decided that you were officially rung dry from your gaping hole, his mouth reappeared on your twitching clit. there, is where he gives your pearl mouth-watering slurps.

your moans grow in volume, a cute habit of yours he notices whenever you’re teetering the edge of your climax. your syrupy fluids drench his face more and more by the moment, stuttering hips grinding deeply up and down while rafayel groans against your pussy. he feels himself growing harder watching you desperately stuck between the lines of denial and growing gratification.

“ keep riding my face until you come over it, cum for me.” and with that, your orgasm crashes over you; the power of it is so strong that you jerk forward, hips still riding his face but losing their needy tempo while you babble out sweet nothings that sound akin to his name. your eyes water with tears that threaten to spill as he drinks every last nectar that your quivering cunt pushes out.

you don’t register your high is fading away, until he continues to perch his lips around your now enlarged clit. you push at his head, but all it does is make his grasp on you tighter as he begins to shake his head side to side. “ a-ah, still sensitiveee!”

True to his word, you hear the front door open ten minutes later, the lock clicking softly. Then, the heavy thud of combat boots against your floor, growing louder until the bedroom door swings wide open. Sylus stands in the threshold, a dark silhouette against the hallway light. His crimson eyes immediately sweep the room for a threat.

He notes the half-empty bottle of expensive red on the nightstand, the precarious tilt of the empty glass, and then finally, he sees you curled up underneath the sheets and that lavender vibrator just a few inches away.

He exhales a sharp, controlled breath, the tension leaving his shoulders only to be replaced by that smug cockiness of his. He's found something much more interesting than sleep.

"A real emergency, hm?" He drawls as he strides into the room, the leather of his jacket creaking softly. He stops at the edge of the bed, arms crossed over his chest as he watches you try and properly focus on him.

You look up at him, your vision swimming just enough to make you see two of him standing right at the foot of your bed.

"S'defective." You groan, gesturing vaguely at the device. "I try... it jus'moves! It's mean."

You hear Sylus huff in amusement, though you don't have a sharp remark to give him in return. Your mind is too foggy from the wine, too focused on fixing your damn vibrator so you can just go to bed.

Sylus reaches out, his large hands making the toy look impossibly small by comparison. He turns it over once, his thumb grazing the power button. The soft hum fills the silence of the room. He blinks at it before glancing back at you, amusement written all over his features. He clicks it off once more.

"It seems perfectly functional to me, kitten."

You just shake your head at him.

He tosses the device back onto the bed as he shrugs off his leather jacket, letting it fall to the floor with a heavy thud. He doesn't care. He's far more focused on the idea that you'd essentially been edging yourself for god knows how long because you were too drunk to hold the damn toy in place.

"You called me here at three in the morning because you can't figure out how to work your vibrator?" He asks as his hands find the edge of the sheet you've somehow managed to get tangled up in. With a firm tug, he yanks the blanket off of you, his breath hitching just seconds later.

You're bare from the waist down, and Sylus's red eyes instantly roam your body without an ounce of shame. You shift against the pillows, your thighs falling open. The sight nearly brings him to his knees. You're soaked, pussy dripping as if he'd been doing nothing but fucking you with his tongue for hours.

"Oh sweetie... You should have just told me you were lonely. I'm much better at following orders than a piece of silicone." He purrs as he moves around to the side of the bed, his fingers ghosting up your thigh. He stops himself before he reaches your cunt, knowing if he touches you, he won't be using that precious vibrator like you want.

"S'fast. And it... doesn't talk back. Good at gettin' the job done." You mumble, watching as Sylus sits on the edge of your bed to undo his combat boots. You giggle at him as if having him there is the funniest thing in the world to you, too drunk to notice that he's fighting back his own wants to make sure your need is satisfied.

Within moments, he's settling between your knees, vibrator in his large hands as he stares down at you. You're a mess of drunken need, but he's never been able to turn you down, especially when you look so desperate to be ruined.

His free hand finds your hip as he drags the tip of the silicone through your glistening folds, clicking it back on the moment it reaches your swollen clit. Your back instantly arches off the bed, your breath leaving you in a loud cry. It had felt so good when you'd been holding it, but now that it was Sylus instead, it was even better.

"Just lay back and relax. I have you." He murmurs, taking in the way your hands grasp onto the sheets like you might tear them. He drinks in every little response from you. The way he has to coax your legs back open because you've clamped your thighs around his hand, the way you tremble just underneath the lowest setting.

Perhaps if he was nicer, he might have left it on the lowest setting and gently brought you to the edge. He doesn't care that you're probably overstimulated and overly sensitive. If anything, it just makes him want to be even more mean.

With two clicks of the button, he has the vibrator on the highest setting. Your hips immediately buck underneath him, head thrashing against your pillows as a loud, shattered moan leaves your mouth. It's too much, far too much for you to handle, and yet you don't have it in you to beg him to turn it down.

His free hand grasps your hip firmly, pushing you down into the mattress as he circles your clit with that little buzzing piece of silicone.

"That's why it hasn't been working for you. You can't run when it gets intense, kitten. That's not how it works." He tells you, though you can barely focus on it, too caught up in the sensation of a strong vibration against your already sensitive clit.

"Sylus!" You manage to gasp out, your legs clamping shut around his hand. This time, he doesn't coax them open. He simply throws his leg over your thigh, using his body weight to keep you nice and spread for him all while he keeps that steady vibration against you.

You can feel how hard he is against your thigh, how much his cock is straining against his leather jeans.

"You can take it. Can't you?" He asks with absolutely no intentions of clicking back to a lower setting. You shake your head, too gone to speak properly even as you try to move away, shift your hips away from the intense vibrations.

Sylus just holds you still, forcing you to take it. You manage to lock eyes with him, intending on pleading for mercy, but you don't get the chance.

Your orgasm is intense, has you arching off the bed until you're certain your spine might snap, your choked moan echoing within the silence of your room. Sylus immediately pulls the vibrator away, replacing it with his thumb as he rubs small circles against your clit, watching the way you squirm underneath him.

His touch is slow, light, gentle compared to the vibrations that were held against you, meant to slowly bring you down from that high. You squeeze your eyes shut, your entire body trembling as you try to catch your breath. It's nearly impossible with the way Sylus is still rubbing your clit, so you weakly swat at his hand, trying to squirm away.

"S'too much..." You whimper. Sylus hums in response, but for once, he actually listens. His thumb stills against your clit, momentarily dipping down to your slick entrance before he forces himself to tear his hand away, finally turning off the toy you'd been so convinced was broken. His hands then move to your thighs, watching you clench around nothing. He really should go, should let you sleep off the wine, but it would be a shame to leave you so wet.

"You... S'your turn..." You mumble, already trying to move to sit up against the pillows.

"Don't worry about me, sweetie. You're exhausted."

But you aren't letting him slip away so easily. Not when he gave you what was probably the best orgasm of your life.

"No. Your pants... Take them... Mm, gimme." You hum.

"You're drunk. No."

"Want it. Gimme." You argue.

He finally gives in with a heavy sigh. This wouldn't be the first time you two have had sex while drunk, and judging by how eager you are for him to take his pants off, he's guessing it won't be the last time either.

"You're lucky you're cute." He says as his hands move to his waistband, unzipping his pants before tugging the leather down just enough to free his cock. You squirm just in front of him, eager and wanting despite the orgasm he'd already granted you. Any other time, he would have teased you relentlessly.

Now, he simply slides the tip through your silky folds, brushing against your sensitive clit just to hear you whimper before he pushes into your tight heat. A low groan leaves him at the feeling of your velvety walls gripping him so deliciously, his hands finding the back of your thighs to keep you spread and open for him.

He isn't rough like he usually is. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he went too far while you were drunk. Instead, his pace is slow and deep, his hips grinding into you with every thrust, meant to savor the feeling of being buried in your cunt.

Your hands find his shoulders, weakly trying to pull him down while you moan for him. He doesn't make you wait. He doesn't even make you beg. He simply leans down, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His hands guide your legs around his waist. This is probably the most gentle he's ever been with you.

His teeth lightly scrape against your skin as he pushes impossibly deeper, your bedframe creaking softly, keeping perfect rhythm with his softer pace. It's not the obscene, filthy fucking that you always crave from him, but it has you whimpering his name as your arms wrap around him, your hands grasping onto his shirt as your hips clumsily move against his.

It doesn't take long for you to cum again, his slower, deeper pace coaxing a second orgasm. You fall apart around him, your cunt clamping down onto him like a vice as he fucks you so gently. You hear him let out a long groan, followed by a guttural curse as his rhythm falters, his breath hot and heavy against your skin.

Sylus rocks into you, slow and steady as his hands knead your thighs. He's quiet for a long moment, savoring the way you squeeze him so tightly, savoring how wet you are. It's only when you go limp underneath him that he finally lefts his head, a flicker of fond amusement crossing his features as he sees that you're finally fast asleep.

He stays a moment longer than necessary, his hand coming up to brush a stray strand of your hair out of your face. You look so peaceful, he doesn't have it in him to wake you to clean up.

irritation spilled out of you, your frowning brows speaking volumes. your pounding temple was causing the most unbearable headache. you just wanted to take a painkiller and get lost in the comfortable sheets of your bed.​

sylus was chilling in your living room, sitting on your large sofa whilst cleaning his heavy handgun with deliberate care, when you walked past the threshold—his head perked up, eyes lighting up slightly.​

he stood up, leaving his weapon on the coffee table with a quiet thud, his eyes following your every action. you took off your shoes and hung your jacket before exhaling deeply.​

“there she is.” he approached, standing mere meters away from you. he crossed his arms and rested his tall figure against a large column. he had noticed it was rather late for you to be arriving home, the breach between 7pm and midnight being clear as day. dark circles hung from your under-eyes, something sylus quickly perceived.​

his gaze softened as he took in your beaten-up expression, his voice only above a soft whisper. “bad day?”​

your chest heaved with a sigh, “‘bad’ doesn’t even cover how shitty it was.”​

you headed to your sofa, plumping down into the soft cushions that immediately hugged your cheeks almost sweetly. “everything. just everything went wrong.”​

he sat down next to your defeated figure, a soothing hand cupping the small of your back. “wish to vent your thoughts? i’m more than happy to be of service, sweetie.”​

you shifted, switching from lying down to sitting properly, your head dropped on his broad shoulders. “i don’t wanna waste my energy cursing everyone who crossed me today and their mother.”​

a moment of silence engulfed you both, sylus’ ministrations not stopping at any time. you hummed softly before murmuring, “y’know, i really wish we were at the n109 zone so that i could blow off some steam by beating the hell outta your punching bag.”​

sylus’ response didn’t come immediately. this being weird enough made you turn your head, your eyes meeting his undecipherable expression.​

deep within his irises bloomed the sharp edges of desire, the longing for pleasuring you.​

he spoke, his velvety voice laced with wanting. “i could offer you something far more satisfying than a punching bag.”​

you tilted your head slightly, your fried brain too slow to catch on to his intentions. “what are you talking about?”​

a subtle smirk touched his lips. “i have another way in mind for you to blow off steam.”​

“which consists of…?”​

“you on top of me.”​

———

your hips clashed with sylus’, the filthy sound of your wet skin slapping against his was almost sinful. your forehead was decorated with shiny beads of sweat as you rode sylus within an inch of your life. this was what you needed. to lose yourself in him and his cock. no thoughts. no worries.​

nothing to think about at all. it was only you, your lust and him.

oh how you adored sylus for always letting you use him however you pleased.​

you had been going for an hour now—orgasm after orgasm, nonstop. sylus was almost sure his cock was about to be split in two from the overstimulating feeling, but you weren’t finished. didn’t even look as if you were close to being finished. and that was all that mattered—your satisfaction.​

your walls snuggled his shaft as though it was meant to be that way. your weight bounced off his hips as you used his chest as support. your hands laid still, only pressing him deeper into the mattress.​

“that’s it, kitten—take whatever you need, use me.”​

his hand flew towards your ass and slapped its flesh, the skin jiggling under his palm. the spank encouraged you to keep going—harder, thoughtlessly pushing yourself further and further away from reality.​

as you chased that delicious sensation, your manicured nails clawed down at his chest, idly tracing delicious red lines all over his pecs.​

you couldn’t recognize sylus in front of you, your mind was blurred by the consuming pleasure.​

until a sharp grunt pulled you out of your misty haze.​

sylus’ cheeks were flushed, the prettiest shade of red extended to the tip of his ears and his chest, which was artfully marked by your neediness. his crimson irises flashed a scarlet spark every time his tip reached deeper and deeper into your cunt.​

he babbled, blaring red sirens tormenting his head. he was going to cum like a loser if you kept kneading at his pecs like that, and he could not have that. “f—fuck, sweetie. there’s no need to rush, slow down a b-nghh!”​

it never mattered to sylus if you went a little overdrive and got lost in your senses and primal desire of claiming him and satisfying your needs. that’s why he always let you suck beautiful hickeys all over his neck and collarbone. but come to think of it, you’d never extended those sweet love marks to his chiseled pecs.​

hm. interesting.​

everyone has their weak spots, and sylus had made it his life duty to never let you find out about his.​

too bad he failed to do so tonight.​

a devilish smirk flashed across your face. “what’s wrong, sy? sensitive?”​

your hand kept caressing the skin and groping it. his hips jerked sharply, pushing himself deeper into your insides. “hngh! kitten, please—”​

you fiddled with his pecs as if they were bread buns, fingers twiddling with his nipples. each roll of your thumb over the perked peak pulled moans and whines out of sylus’ spit-dripping lips.​

“well that’s some news, isn't it? the big, bad boss of onychinus can’t have his nipples played with ‘cause he turns into a babbling mess.” you teased before clenching down on him purposely. the sudden clamp turned him further into mush.​

“this sight is for me and me only, isn’t it right?” you watched how he sank deeper into subspace as you kept fidgeting with his sensitive nubs.​

“yes, sweetie. only yours—always and forever yours.”​

“that’s a good boy.”​

grunts and pants heaved from his chest, his angry red tip kept pounding into your cervix, stretching you further and further. hoarseness laced sylus’ voice by the second, his desperate body language giving him away quicker than he would’ve preferred.​

“you wanna cum, don’t you?” your gaze met his, lust and devotion blending perfectly into the redness of his eye. “i can see right through you, sweetie.” the pet name rolled off your tongue deliciously. sylus’ eyes rolled all the way back to his skull as his cock twitched inside you.​

“shit–kitten, stop.” you met his beaten-up expression, crystallized rubies pleading for mercy.​

“do you really want that?” you cooed as you soothe your palm over his pink-dyed cheek. “want me to stop playing with these cute nipples of yours?”​

you waited for an answer that you knew wouldn’t arrive. a smirk dimmed your eyes as you took in the sight before you: a desperate sylus, chest flushed, irises glinting in neediness.​

you muttered, devilishness hiding beneath your syrupy tone. “didn’t think so.”​

your pace never ceased, frantically rocking your pelvis against his, seeking your release. your pupils were blown out, the desire to absolutely wreck sylus consumed you to the bone.​

what really did it for you when he started pleading for you. “i’m really gonna cum if you keep touching me like th–ungh–kitten stop, please.”​

you chuckled darkly under your breath. “but i’m so close syyyy,” you drew out that nickname he loved oh so much hearing from you. “don’t you wanna be a good boy ’nd make me cum?”​

your sinful words blinded him completely, humping at you and pressing himself impossibly closer to you. your warm, tight walls clamped down on him in the most lustful way, milking the life out of his oversensitive dick.​

“a-ah, fucking god–ah!” he huffed, panting like a dog in heat. “please, cum–cum, i need t’ cum–ngah!”​

you shushed him mockingly, your sweet smile belying your dark intentions. “you’re so cute, sy…” you leaned down to press a wet kiss against his overheated face.​

“but i’ll decide when you’ve had enough.”

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“this what you wanted? hm?” he snaps, pressing his body down on yours so his cock hits deeper inside you. he bottoms out with every thrust, dragging his cock out halfway and shoving back in, feeling your pussy flutter around him as it struggles to accommodate his thickness and length. “you wanted some cock that bad that you had to rile me up like this?”

there, now you remember. how you’d been hanging off carlos and flirting with him the entirety of the mission in front of leon’s face to get a rise out of him. leon had been spending far too much time alone from you recently, always busy on solo tasks or getting work done or, your least favourite, up to highly confidential tasks with ada where they’d be alone together and he’d come home late at night without an explanation.

“ ‘s cause you don’t even pay attention to me anymore,” you say between gasped moans and whimpers when he hits too deep inside you, his tip pressing down on one of your softest parts. your head drops to the side of your pillow as you try to avoid eye contact and, but leon grabs you by the throat and turns your head back to him, forcing you to look into his eyes as his cock stills inside you.

“what’d you just say?”

you squirm from the pressure on your throat and his cock pressing into you from where it’s buried entirely in your warm hole. “s-said…” you pant, legs quivering on him. “you don’t pay me attention anymore.”

he runs his tongue over the inside of his cheek, wondering where you came up with that. he drags his cock out of you with only the tip left inside, causing you to squirm again for the opposite reason than a moment ago, where you’d felt too full. now you feel too empty, and that buzzy feeling that usually encapsulates your body when you’re close to cumming fades a little.

“i pay loads of attention to you. quit - fuck - lying to my face and tell me why you’re actually being bad.”

you try to drop your leg back around his waist and push his hips forward so his cock can fill you up again, but he knows immediately what you’re trying to do and puts your leg right where it belongs.

“cause of ada!” you blurt, voice petulant as he watches you. when the truth comes out, he blinks at you and frowns. “you spend time with ada and go out on your solo missions and then you come mngh home and you just have to work more… you don’t spend time with me anymore!”

leon stares down at your pouty face and the tears that start to pool in your waterline, and he coos as recognition immediately clouds his features. he slowly sinks inside you again, adopting a much more gentle, romantic pace. his hands come up to cradle your face instead of restraining you. “oh baby i’m sorry…”

he slows his thrusts into deep, slow ones that allow you to feel every inch of him filling you and stretching out your walls with each thrust. pressing his forehead against yours, he moans softly, watching your face contort with pleasure each time he bottoms out. “why didn’t you just tell me? would’ve dropped everything to make sure my baby feels loved.”

"cause 's embarassing." your words come out in between gasps and pants, meanwhile slowly, that buzz resurfaces. he feels you tighten around him, pussy squeezing around his cock as it plunges slowly in and out of your soaked hole. leon guides your arms around his neck and places a kiss to your mouth. "don't be embarrassed." he reassures you, lips moving against yours as he speaks. "always let me know so i can be sure i'm taking care of you proper. okay?"

"k-kay..." you pant, eyes rolling back when his cock rolls up inside you because of the way leon thrusts inside you, his tip poking your sweet spot just long and firm enough for the coil in your stomach to snap, and without warning, you feel yourself cumming around his cock. your arms tighten around him and you gasp his name, moving your hips downward to meet his thrusts as he chases his own orgasm while wrapping his body around you and kissing you deeply.

your body goes limp from under him, walls squeezing tightly around him as you cum around his cock. leon moans your name against your lips, tongue slipping inside your mouth and sending one last thrust inside you before he spills into you, warm load filling you up and flooding around his cock, which is still inside you.

leon stays still for a moment after, breathing heavily as he tries to catch himself. he doesn't quite want to move yet because he's still got so much on his mind. "hey." he murmurs at you, trying to coax you out of post-sex fuzziness. with his forehead still pressed to yours, he stares into your shiny eyes, thumb wiping up the tears that'd fallen down your face earler. "don't do that again, okay? keep stuff from me."

though you're still catching your breath, you do your best to respond. "i just didn't wanna seem needy." you murmur. he shakes his head and makes a gruff noise of disagreement. "you are needy, hon. i like it that way. having my girl rely on me."

your lips press together and your hands slide up into his hair to play with the blond strands as he continues. "i've been gone too much." he amits, his thumb still moving absentmindedly against your cheek. "didn't think about that'd feel like for you. and that's on me."

"leon-"

"hold on," he cuts in softly, shaking his head and brushing his nose against yours lightly. "let me say it." his gaze softens a little, his cock still inside you and making you feel all the more warm and satiated. it's just so intimate, how he's reassuring you while holding you like this, with every part of you connected and pressed into him. "i don't like you feeling like you gotta compete for my attention." he says quietly.

you melt into him a little more, your legs loosely hooked around him now without any tension behind it, just wanting to stay close.

"and i'll fix that." he whispers, pecking your plush lips. "starting with not disappearing on you every other day. and maybe taking you with me when i can."

your eyes light up just a little at that, even through the lingering sleepiness. "yeah?"

"yeah." he nods, laying on top of you without crushing you with his weight too much, half on, half off. he hums at the little soft back scratches you give him at the same time.

after a moment, he speaks again. "...were you really flirting with carlos, though?"

"dunno, maybe."

he huffs at that and tightens his grip around you enough to make a statement. "don't do that again either."

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Not just right now, but all the time. Leon feels it. You might not even realize you're doing it, he's not sure.

He feels it when he's getting dressed as he pulls his shirt down, buckles his belt, straps on his watch. He feels it when he's walking in front of you, your gaze on his back like a protective shroud.

He feels it here, in your bedroom. You'd asked, this time. I just want to see, you'd said. How you like to do it yourself.

Jesus Christ, you're going to be the death of him.

And there you are, cheek pillowed on his thigh. You press your hands into the sheets near his knee. Your mouth is open and your eyes are glassy as they dart up and down, not knowing where to settle.

Leon has to admit, there's a lot to look at. He's trying to put on a bit of a show.

His hair, messy from your hands and no doubt sticking to his forehead by now. His mouth, also open because he can't help the moans crawling out of him into the quiet room. His chest, flushed and well on the way to heaving.

His hand, gripped tight around his aching cock.

Yeah, you're mostly looking at that.

He drags his thumb over the tip and collects some dewy precome with it.

"Leon," you gasp.

Shit, he's not even touching you and you're breathless. He doesn't miss the way you rub your legs together.

"Is this everything you hoped for?"

It's starting to sound pretty filthy, your breath and his breath, the slick sound of his skin. If you want him to fuck you you're going to have to ask soon. Because, fuck, you're not making it easy to hold it together. He twists his hand a little for a few strokes and his hips buck.

"Wow." You sound awed. "You're so -- it's so pretty."

You are un-fucking-believable. You asked him to jerk off for you and he'd think he'd given you the world.

He hears your voice in his head. Well, Leon, exactly!

You love him loudly, loud enough to drown out everything else. He just wants to be good for you, to be everything you need. But you just ask for him, nothing more. Sometimes he's not sure he'll ever be used to it.

He should be touching you. He wants to touch you. Why isn't he touching you, again?

Leon reaches for your face with his free hand and pushes your hair back. If you're going to do shit like call him pretty, he has to give his cock a break or this will be over before he can stop it. He lets go and his shaft bounces a few times, smacking his abdomen.

You honest-to-god gasp. Jesus.

"It's not like this is your first time seeing it."

You roll your eyes at him, tilting your face forward so you can press your lips to his bare thigh. His cock twitches.

"It's different when you do it," you tell him. "You're more intense with it than I am. Rougher." 

He hums. You treat him so carefully, like he's something to be treasured, and he loves it. It's not something he's figured out how to do to himself.

"You want to keep watching?" he asks.

If this is all you're looking for tonight, he can make it work. He can have you spit in his palm, maybe ask you to touch yourself, too. He doesn't mind being on display when you're looking at him like that.

But before Leon can offer his ideas, you push yourself up and kneel between his legs. Your sleep shirt is so loose at the collar that he can see all the way down it as you bend towards him. He catches a glimpse of your hanging breasts and nipples, the softness of your stomach, and your bare thighs.

"Eyes up here, handsome," you tease.

He arches into you just a little, seeking the friction he lost when he stopped stroking. You clutch his shoulders, tangle your fingers into the hair at the base of his scalp and tug just a little.

"Fuck."

But he obeys. Leon feels every place you're touching him like a live wire. Your pupils are blown and you look shy all of a sudden, as if you aren't currently half naked in his lap and pulling his hair. But you both can be whatever you want here, in your room, in each other's arms. You can both let go and know you have a safe place to land.

"Can I blow you? Please?" you ask. Beg.

It takes a great deal of self-control not to come all over his stomach.

You've always really liked doing it. He knows this, knows that you like making him feel good, like giving him a chance to relax and let loose. Knows that you get off on it as much as he does.

"Yeah," he breathes. Leon searches his mind for a witty line to make you laugh, but the words are lost in a haze of desire. All that's left is how badly he wants you. "Yeah, okay."

Your smile is blinding. You lurch forward and kiss him firmly, a smack of your lips against his. He palms your hips, twisting his fingers in the elastic band of your underwear.

A little tug on his hair before you pull away has him chasing your lips with a moan. You stop him, hands trailing down his neck to his shoulders to push him back into the pillows a little more.

He whines, a low keen he tries to swallow between clenched teeth. But he knows he can't kiss you and watch you suck his dick at the same time. Life is unfair that way.

"I'm not --" Leon starts. He swallows and your eyes track the bob of his Adam's apple. "It's gonna be fast, I think."

"Just relax, baby," you tell him. Warmth curls in his gut. "I've got you."

He throws his head back and closes his eyes as you trail your hands down his bare torso, fingers tweaking his nipples and tracing the complex pattern of scars that litter his skin.

"Leon."

He knows what you're going to ask.

"Yeah, yeah," he groans. "Be as loud as I want, I know."

You nip the muscled ridge of his abdomen and his eyes fly open and find yours. You've moved, shifted further down the bed and into your stomach between his legs.

"Just making sure you remember," you say and lick your lips. "Lets me know that I'm doing a good job."

Leon laughs out your name. As if you have ever done anything but make him feel good.

You lick your palm and take him in hand, giving his cock a slow stroke. 

"Oh, shit," he breathes. "Fuck."

It's different, someone else's hands on him. So often is he thrown around, beat to shit and then some. Gentleness is an ongoing lesson. But your hands -- and your mouth -- are always aware, always exactly what he can handle and no more.

You touch him like you love him.

And Leon knows you do.

You twist your hand around the base of his shaft and press a gentle kiss to the tip of his cock. He's going to die. You're going to kill him.

"It's so unfair," you say. "How beautiful you are."

Any reply he could possibly think of dies in his throat because your mouth is around him. What comes out instead is a deep groan, the heat of you warming his entire body and narrowing all of his senses to you. Feeling your tongue trace the ridge of his head, hearing the wet suck of your lips, turning his head and smelling your shampoo on the pillow underneath him. He doesn't need to think, to prepare for his next move, to be 10 steps ahead. He's safe here in your hands. Everything is you, you, you.

You press a palm to his stomach, a move he recognizes from when he wants you to keep your hips still when it's his turn between your legs. Fuck, was he bucking them? He obeys, twisting his fingers into the sheets as he fights to keep pressed to the bed.

He's rewarded for his control when you take him a little deeper, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat once before you pull back off. The sound of it is indecent.

"You're doing so good, Leon," you tell him, punctuating the praise with a squeeze of his shaft. Your voice is a little hoarse.

He lets out another moan, this one easier than the last. Leon covers the hand on his stomach with his own, just to touch you, to feel connected to you. You're responsible for the way he's floating right now, but you're also his anchor.

"I should be saying that to you."

He's not sure if all the words make it out correctly.

The flat of your tongue traces a vein. He's not going to last much longer.

"Are you close?" you ask. He can only nod. "I'm going to swallow, okay?"

That's it. He's done for.

You kick it up a notch and bob up and down at a steady rhythm. Spit drips from the corners of your mouth and makes everything even slicker. He uses what feels like the last shred of his self-awareness to reach for your hair and hold it out of your way. Your gaze flicks up in gratitude and you hum around him.

It's now hard to keep his eyes open, but fuck, he doesn't want to miss a second this. Of you.

The coil of heat in his abdomen pulls tighter and tighter and he squeezes your hand so you know, since words have totally abandoned him.

His orgasm ricochets through his entire body, his moan guttural. He keeps his hips as still as he can for you, but throws his head back, every muscle tense while he comes in your mouth and you swallow. He can feel it.

It takes a moment to remember to breathe, and he sucks in air and comes back to his body a little dazed.

"Holy shit," he mumbles. You smile up at him and lick your lips, entirely too far away. "Come here, please?"

Leon likes to be close after he finishes, likes to hold you or be held while he emerges on the other side of the haze of pleasure.

You crawl up his body and kiss him, settling your weight over him while being careful of his softening cock. He tastes himself on you, licking into your mouth for more.

"Thank you," he says when he pulls back. You tell him over and over that he doesn't need to say it, but he disagrees. "You're amazing."

You push his sweaty hair back with gentle fingers.

"Well, I had to reward you for the show you were putting on."

Your pupils are still blown and he can feel how fast your pulse is. It's his turn to make you feel good.

He'd love to get his mouth on you, or his fingers. Maybe both. Would you want to spread your legs for him while he watches? The thought makes his cock twitch and he winces a little. Maybe that's too much for today.

He holds your hips and scoots himself up so he's leaning against the headboard more firmly, but it jostles you and his thigh ends up between your legs.

You whine, a high-pitched, involuntary sound.

Oh.

Leon does it deliberately this time, gently pushing you down onto his leg and watching how your mouth opens and your eyes flutter. He can feel the wet fabric of your panties against his skin, cold and tacky. 

"Really?" he asks. "That'll be enough?"

You look embarrassed again, which wasn't his intention. He just can't believe blowing him got you this keyed up.

"You know I love doing that," you remind him, eyes downcast.

God, where did you come from and how did he get so lucky?

"I know."

"And I love you," you say, but you look at him this time.

He can't help his grin. "I know that, too."

The thing is, Leon gets it.

He so often doubts his sense of purpose in the world. Is he a soldier? Is he a survivor? Is he a victim? Does he want to be any of those things? Does he have a choice?

All of that is still very much real, still a huge piece of why he throws himself into the fray in an attempt to make sense of it all, to feel like he's doing something that matters.

But you have reoriented his entire world. You've sharpened it with your wit and fierce loyalty, your bravery and your determination. You've also softened it and added color, added a soft place to land, added hands to hold him and a heart that beats in time with his. What happens to him matters to you. He moves, you move. He reaches for you, you reach back.

Loving you is the most worthwhile thing he's ever done.

So, yeah, he gets why his pleasure plays a role in yours. He feels the same.

He pulls you closer and higher up on his leg, bending it at the knee so you have to wrap your arms around his shoulders for support.

"Take whatever you need," he tells you, noses brushing. He'd give you anything you wanted. "I'm yours."

Your answer is a sharp exhale, hot on his skin. You rock forward slowly and then faster, fingertips digging into his shoulders.

"Oh god," you gasp. "I'm --"

Leon presses his lips to his favorite spot on your neck, just below the hinge of your jaw. You babble just a bit, and he answers with praise of his own between sucking and soothing your skin with his tongue.

"So pretty," he says. It's your turn to hear it. "That's it, baby. Keep going --"

You're close. He knows all of your tells by now, the hitch of your breath and the way the noises you make change.

He bounces his leg and you whine, high-pitched and desperate. Your eyes are closed so tight he'd think you were in pain if he didn't know better. Sometimes feeling this good is a kind of pain.

It's his name on your lips when you come, a full body shudder that has you collapsing boneless into his embrace.

He smiles against your neck and drags his hands up and down your back while you catch your breath.

"I think I gave you a hickey," he says. He for sure gave you a hickey. "Sorry."

You snort into his shoulder before pulling back to look at him.

"I'll care tomorrow." You lean in to kiss him and it lands somewhere to the right of his mouth. "That was so hot, Leon."

He thumbs your bottom lip.

"I know," he says. "I'm impressed with us."

"I'll go first next time," you say, a little shy now that the sex is over. "If you want."

"If I want," he scoffs. "Yeah, like I'm going to say no to that."

He can see it now, your legs spread wide as he watches. He'll be patient. Hopefully, you'll let him get his mouth on you.

You lift yourself out of his lap and he's immediately colder than he wants to be.

"Do you want to shower?" you ask. "I'll wash your hair. And, uh --"

You look pointedly at his thigh, which bears the evidence of your arousal. Your panties must be soaked.

"That's just going to make me hard again," he says. "You were really going at it."

"Oh, please. You were milking the whole show me thing --"

He laughs, you laugh back.