sydney !!

“I need your help.” 

You stood in your doorway, clutching the doorknob in your hand, as you stared at Cloud. Who had a very defeated yet bashful look on his face. He was rubbing the back of his neck, something he often did when he was nervous. 

“Cloud,” you sighed. “It’s the middle of the night. Can’t this wait?” 

You were exhausted due to a long day at work and all you wanted to do was sleep. 

He nodded. “I know. But like I said, I could really use your help.” 

“What is it?” You asked with furrowed brows. 

He shifted in his feet, clearly uncomfortable, until his words came out in a stuttering mess. 

“I want to ask Tifa out but I’m afraid she’ll realize how inexperienced I am in the sexual department and not want me. I know you’re more experienced with sex and stuff so I was hoping you could show me some pointers.” 

You blinked rapidly, trying to understand all of the words he just rushed out in one breath. But then the anger began to fester inside of you, causing you to grip the door harder. You’ve always had feelings for Cloud but knew he never looked at you in that kind of way, especially when Tifa was around. So to have him come here, insinuate you were sexually experienced, and to have you show him pointers to use on Tifa really made you want to hit him. 

“How do you know that?” You asked. 

Cloud ran a hand through his already messy blonde hair. “You tell Aerith all the time about your dates and how they were either good or bad. She’s the one who told me to ask you for help.” 

You bit down on your tongue in an effort not to snap at Cloud. Aerith shouldn’t have been running her mouth to him but you knew, deep down, that she was doing it from a good place. You could tell Cloud was desperate for help but it did sting a bit that’s all he saw you as, someone to ask for sex pointers, rather than a potential partner.

You had to admit though, the idea of showing Cloud how to do things sexually was a turn on. If you couldn’t have him as a partner, might as well have some fun with him. 

“You do realize what this means, right?” You asked. 

Cloud nodded. “Yeah. I’ve messed around with girls before and I’m not a virgin so it’s not like it’ll be my first time. I just want a few pointers on how to make sure she feels good.”

“We’ll see each other naked. I want to make sure you’re alright with that.” 

Something flashed in Cloud’s usual bright eyes before he nodded again. “I know. It won’t bother me.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you eventually sighed with a nod. “Fine. Come on in.” 

Cloud’s eyes lit up before slipped inside of your apartment with you locking the door behind him. 

“So, it’ll be different for everyone but just make sure to listen to my moans as an indication on how you’re doing," you said, gazing down at Cloud. 

You both were positioned on your bed, you on your back and him on his stomach with his face between your legs. He still had his clothes on but you were only wearing a tank top, being bare from the waist down. You asked Cloud what he needed more pointers on and almost immediately he mentioned Oral so that would be your first lesson. 

“I’ve done it only once before so I might not be good. Doubt I’ll be able to get you off,” he said, cheeks heating up with embarrassment. 

You patted his head. “Don’t worry about that. Ready?” 

Cloud’s eyes were transfixed on your cunt, somewhat wet from the anticipation of finally having him in your bed with you. You wouldn’t admit it but this moment was something you dreamed about quite often. 

When he nodded, you eased back into your bed and spread your legs wider for him, letting Cloud take control. Softly, almost experimenting with you, his tongue darted out to lick at your clit and you let out a moan. 

“Good?” he asked. 

You nodded, letting your eyes flutter shut. “I like more attention on my clit but you can finger me as well. Both at the same time are really good.”

His mouth was back on you as his finger toyed with your entrance, dragging it up and down while his mouth kissed and sucked at your clit. You moaned in pleasure, hands running through his hair to hold him steady. 

“That’s it. Just like that, Cloud,” you praised. “You can suck harder.” 

He did. His mouth wrapped around your clit to suck while his finger slowly fucked you. You wanted more, knew you could take at least three fingers, but didn’t want to rush Cloud with something he might not have been comfortable with. 

You hissed out in slight pain when Cloud used his teeth and he quickly gazed up at you. “Did I hurt you?” 

“No,” you shook your head. “I’m just not a fan of teeth. More tongue.” 

Nodding, Cloud’s mouth was back on your clit, now using his tongue to press circles against it and you groaned, writing your hips into his face. 

“You can add another finger,” you breathed, closing your eyes. 

He did and now with two fingers inside of you, Cloud found a good rhythm. While it felt good, your body beginning to relax with Cloud, you could tell you weren’t close at all. Which was fine, this wasn’t supposed to get you off but to help Cloud learn. 

Without your instructions, Cloud curled his fingers inside of you and a loud whimper fell from your lips. 

“Shit, that’s really good, Cloud. Keep doing that.”

Your fingers threaded through his hair as you kept his face close to you, nearly riding his face. Cloud must have liked the praise because his fingers inside of you worked faster while his tongue pressed flatly against your clit, dragging it up and down. Suddenly, the familiar white haze began to creep into your vision as your body began to shake. The burn was igniting in your lower stomach and you knew what was coming. 

Peering down, you watched with parted lips as Cloud was devouring your pussy, his face completely buried between your legs. He was humping your bed, nearly chasing his own high, and the sight was enough to make you cry out his name, riding out your orgasm against his face. Cloud’s moans were muffled as he ravaged you, eating your cunt like it was his last meal. Your cum was his favorite snack, licking and sucking as much as he could. It was as if he couldn’t stop, like he didn’t want to stop. 

“Cloud,” you choked on a breath before slowly removing his face from you. “Holy shit.” 

His lips and chin were soaked with your arousal and he quickly wiped it away with the back of his hand. 

“Was-was that good?” He asked, stammering on the first word. 

Seeing him like this made your heart flutter in your chest but you needed to remind yourself that this was strictly a lesson for him, nothing was to come of this. 

You let out a hum, nodding with a sly smirk. “That was really good. I’m kind of impressed.” 

Cloud let out a small chuckle before rising to his knees then looked at his hard cock. He groaned in pain as he palmed it, hoping to relieve some of the tension, and for a moment you thought about asking him if you could take care of it for him. 

Was that something he wanted, though?

he doesn't look at you just yet, but you know he can feel your eyes on him. he always knew when your stare landed on him. you'd always joked that the mako had given him a sixth sense. he doesn't entirely doubt it.

you take a moment to stargaze once more. each speckle of white in the endlessly vast sky shimmers beautifully, the constellations remind you of the freckles spattered across his cheeks. you'd mentioned the sentiment once before. his face had flushed a warm rouge at your words.

the hand resting atop your stomach slowly slides down until it lays flat in the sand, fingers blindly crawling along the ground in search of something.

eventually, you bump your hand into his, partially buried beneath the tan grains. he doesn't flinch at the touch. doesn't even avert his gaze. he lets you caress his knuckles, lets you trace along the veins that bulge beneath his skin.

your fingers curl into the juncture where his thumb and index connect, the rough calluses gently scraping against your fingertips as you do so.

his thumb twitches then, brushing over your ring finger.

he lets you turn his hand over. allows you to delicately run a fingertip along the cardinal line of his palm, even when it starts to tingle just a bit.

you map out each shallow crevice and hardened bump, grazing along the inside of his wrist and up his forearm before sliding back down to repeat the action.

a quiet huff from him has you peering over.

he breaks the soft silence with as much eloquence as he can muster, “that tickled.”

a light chortle breathes out of his lungs, and you smile at him.

“sorry,” you mutter fondly, resting your fingers in the spaces between his own.

his fist encloses yours easily, offering one gentle squeeze.

the waves lap quietly at the shore, seafoam fizzling against the wet, thickened sand each time the water pulls back. the distant sound of the town's nightlife seemed to cease long ago, but maybe you're imagining it. it's hard to say when the only thing on your mind is him.

for another time, your eyes gravitate to him. running along the straight edge of his nose, the curve of his lips, the angle of his jaw. you swear he's perfect. he profusely denies that.

his hair, strikingly blond and so very soft, sways gently in the briny breeze. his chest rises slowly, falling just as gingerly. one leg rests crossed over the other, ankles hooked together.

you could stare at him for eternity, you think.

he drums his fingers against the back of your hand once, to pull you back to reality.

“you're supposed to be watching the stars, not me.”

his expression doesn't shift, but his tone is anything but serious.

you roll onto your side now, releasing your hold on his hand to rest your palm beneath your cheek. “you're much more interesting to look at.”

even in the darkness of the night, you can see the sudden flush of his face.

“stop saying things like that.”

you want to tease him. to tell him he's cute when he's flustered. but you also want to tell him that every time you look at him, you fall that much more in love with him. that every press of his skin against yours sends electricity crackling through your veins, no matter how many times he's touched you. that every moment spent with him is a reward thrust upon you by the universe.

but you're not quite sure how to say all of that. so you don't.

instead, you just gaze at him. reach out a hand to brush the side of his face, caressing his heated skin.

he looks at you now. looks at your eyes, then your lips, then your eyes again.

you lift yourself to rest your weight on an elbow in the sand.

you lean closer to him, dipping your head until your lips are ghosting over his. he's the one to seal the gap.

his hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, long fingers bending to the curve of your neck as if they were made to hold you just like this. his lips slot perfectly with yours.

the kiss is unhurried. deep, heavy with emotion and confessions yet to breach the thick air, words that don't need to be spoken just yet.

you're the one to part from him, gulping a lungful of air as he stares at you. something swirls in his eyes, something other than mako.

“it's getting late. we should head back,” he sighs, but you notice that he doesn't make any effort to pull away from you.

you nod softly.

Cloud, of course, was composed as ever. Looking almost statuesque as he sat on the barstool. But even his reserved nature couldn’t hide the pink dusting his cheeks and the slight haze in his eyes. His arms were folded across his chest, the Buster Sword leaning against the wall beside him. 

“You’re impossible,” you mutter out with a laugh, tilting your head towards him. “I’ve had what? Two or three drinks, and I’m already like this. You have just as many. and you’re still sitting there like… like some stoic statue.” 

Cloud’s lips twitch, the faintest hint of a smile evident on his pink lips before he reached for his glass. “Guess I’m used to keeping it together,” he said, voice low, almost amused. 

You let out a slightly over dramatic sigh and leaned in a little closer, your shoulder brushing against his toned arm. “Of course you are. You’re always keeping it together. You’re always… I dunno. Protecting everyone. Holding the weight of the planet on your shoulders and here I am,” you hiccuped softly, then giggled again, “can’t even handle my drinks.” 

That made him look at you, like really look at you. You swore you could see his ears turn pink and his pupils dilate. He cleared his throat and looked away from you. “Don’t say things like that when you’re drunk.”

“Why not?” you teased, tilting your head and batting your lashes at him. Your hazy gaze lingered on him, softer than you intended. “It’s true though, Cloud. You’re a hero. My hero.”

The words slipped out from your mouth before you could even process them but they were honest. 

Cloud stiffened. Long fingers tightening around his glass, his jaw shifting like he wasn’t sure whether to retreat or argue. His silence stretched, before saying, “... You should drink some water.” 

Cloud stood first, his chair screeching against the wooden floorboards of the bar. He fetched his sword and fastened it onto his back. He reached for your whiskey glass, grabbing it from your hands giving you no time to protest. 

“You’ve had enough.” His tone was firm, almost protective. 

You pouted, and crossed your arms, “Bossy.” 

“C’mon,” he said, ignoring your complaint. “I’ll walk you upstairs.” 

It wasn’t really up for debate, his hand was already grasping your elbow, steadying you as you clumsily slid off the bar stool. Your legs wobbled like you’d forgotten how to use them, and you stumbled into him with a breathless laugh. 

“See?” Cloud muttered, catching you against his hard chest. His body was warm, solid, and smelled faintly of leather and whiskey. “You’d never make it on your own.”

“I could,” you insisted, even as you clung onto the fabric of his shirt. “Eventually. Probably.”

He sighed, that same quiet exasperated sound that always seemed to hide something softer. With a firm guiding hand at the small of your back, he steered you towards the stairs. Each step creaked with your combined weight as you leaned into him, your head brushing his shoulder. 

By the time you’d reached your door, the giggling started again as Cloud reached into your pocket and grabbed the key, opening the door and guiding you inside. You plopped onto the edge of your bed with a slight bounce, grinning up at him. 

“See,” you said, flexing your arms playfully. “Made it!”

Cloud didn’t even smile this time, just knelt in front of you and began unzipping your boots with careful precision. The sight of him beneath you startled you into silence. His gloved hands were gentle as he tugged each boot off and set them aside.  

“You don’t have to–” 

“Just sit still,” he cuts in, glancing up briefly through his blonde bangs. His mako blue eyes seemed softer than his tone. 

You watched him, your heart beating faster than the alcohol could explain. He picked out a t-shirt and shorts for you to change into.

“I’ll turn around.” he turns and you change. You were sure he could hear the way your heart was pattering against your chest. 

“Okay done.” He turns back around, eyes glancing down at the white t-shirt, your nipples poking against the almost see through fabric. His gaze remained fixed for a second, jaw tightening before he cleared his throat and snapped his eyes back to your face.

You watched as he walked over to you and helped lower you onto the bed. He tugs the comforter over your lap and hands you a glass of water. 

“Drink this,” he said, voice quiet but insistent. 

You take the glass obediently, fingers brushing against his as you grab it. The contact lingered for a beat too long, sending a strange shiver down your spine.

“You’re too good to me, Cloud,” you murmured, half-drowsy, half-emboldened by the alcohol. You smiled at him, soft and sweet. “You could leave me here, y’know. Lock the door and go brood on the balcony or… whatever it is that you do in your sparetime.” 

He shook his head, eyes flicking away as if the pink rug on your floor had suddenly become very interesting. “...Not happening.” 

And then, before you could even realize what you were doing, the words slipped out. 

“That’s why I like you so much.” 

The silence that followed was heavy, thick enough to sober you a little. Cloud’s breath hitched as he froze where he stood, shoulders rigid. His fingers flexed at his side, knuckles whitening as he clenched his fists. 

For a long moment, he didn’t turn around. You could only see the ridges of his shoulderblades flexing, the tension winding through every muscle like a bowstring pulled too tight. 

Finally, he exhaled through his nose, shoulders falling. His breath was shaky, uneven. “...Don’t say things like that,” he murmured, his voice huskier than usual. “You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

You sat up a little straighter, your heart hammering in your chest. “But it’s true,” you whispered, almost pleading. “I mean it, Cloud. I’ve always felt it. The drinks just… made me feel brave enough to finally say it.”

That got him to move. Slowly, Cloud turned, his eyes catching yours in the dim lamp light. He crossed the space between you in just a few careful steps, every cell in his body coiled in feigned restraint. You were completely sat up now, knees perched on the plush of your bed. He leaned down slightly, just enough to be level with you. One calloused hand lifted and hovered, hesitating, before finally caressing your cheek. 

His eyes searched your face, whiskey laced breath fanning over yours. “This is a mistake,” he murmured, thumb tracing the outline of your bottom lip. Your breathing stuttered, eyes looking up into his. 

His own gaze flickered down to your lips, “I can’t take advantage of you like this.” 

You leaned into his palm, feeling the warm, rough skin. Your own smaller hand came up to cover his. “You’re not. I want this. I want you.” 

Cloud’s breath stuttered, and he let out a sound dangerously close to a whimper, the cracks of his resolve widening. He swallowed hard, as if the words were stuck in his throat, then whispered, almost to himself, “You’re going to ruin me.” 

And yet… he didn’t pull away. 

For a heartbeat neither of you moved. The world around you had gone silent aside from the hum of mako energy, the heavy thud of your heartbeat and the uneven catch in Cloud’s breath. His hand was still cupping your cheek, his thumb trembling faintly against the warmth of your skin as though he couldn't decide whether to draw closer or flee. 

You tilted your head just slightly, brushing your lips against his thumb. The tiny contact made his chest rise sharply, his breath catching as though you’d just knocked the wind out of him. 

“Cloud…” you whispered. 

That was all it took. His last remaining shards of resolve had completely shattered. 

He leaned in, almost painstakingly slow, until his lips finally met yours. The kiss was clumsy, but it was real. His mouth moved against yours gently, almost as if he would break you. He wasn’t sure how much of himself he was allowed to give.

You made a small sound, and that broke something deep inside him. His other hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss in a way that betrayed how badly he’d been holding back his desires. 

He kissed you like a man starved. Each brush of his lips against yours carried years of restrained yearning he’d never dared put into words. 

When you finally parted for air, Cloud rested his forehead against yours, his breath unsteady and frantic. His lips tingled as if the memory of your mouth burned there, and his heart thundered so hard he thought you might feel it through his chest.

“I don’t…” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard. “I don’t really know what I’m doing. But I can’t-” He stopped himself, jaw tightening. “I can’t stop wanting you.” He whimpered slightly, right hand resting on your hip. 

Your hands slid up his chest, feeling the warmth radiating from his skin and the rapid thump of his heartbeat. “Then don't," you whispered, leaning your head back up towards his lips. 

This time, he didn’t hesitate. His mouth found yours again, harder. Each kiss destroying the walls of resolve he’d spent years putting up. He kissed you like you were his last meal on earth, like you were a delicacy meant to be savored. 

And still, even in his inexperience, every movement screamed of how much he yearned for you, not just desire, but visceral need. The kind of need that had been caged for so long, now spilling out in every kiss and moan. He needed you like you were oxygen and every kiss proved it. 

Your lips were still tangled with Cloud’s. He pulled away from you and you groaned, only to feel his wet lips attach to the pulse point of your neck. Small moans and whimpers tumbled from your throat as he nipped and sucked at the sensitive skin. “...Cloud,” you whimpered. The sound wrecked him. It shot straight to the throbbing hardness straining against his pants, making him groan low and ragged into your skin.

Cloud’s thoughts were a storm. He had imagined this, he hated himself for how often, but reality was so much more unbearable. She’s soft. She’s warm. She wants me. His hand slid higher, brushing the edge of your shirt, and the skin-to-skin contact burned. His jaw tightened. 

You shifted closer, desperate for more, and pushed him back onto your floral comforter. Straddling his hips, you pressed your clothed core against the hard length beneath his pants. The pressure drew a strangled groan from him, his eyes fluttering shut, head tipping back against the mattress. For a man who had faced death countless times, he looked utterly undone beneath you.

When his eyes snapped open again, the mako glow was glassy with need. He pulled you down into another searing kiss, teeth clashing and tongues molding together. Then, he broke it, just long enough to whisper against your lips, voice cracking.

“Tell me what you want. Please… I need to hear you say it.” 

Your answer came in the form of a grind of your clothed cunt against his erection, dragging the heat of your core over the stiff line of his cock. His breath tore out of him and his hands flew to your thighs, gripping like he might fall apart if he didn’t hold onto something solid. “Need you s’bad, Cloud.” you whined, core aching and dripping.

“Fuck-” Cloud’s voice cracked, low and shaky. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

Oh but you did, you felt him. Every twitch, every pulse, every throb, you felt it all. You felt the tentative shake in his hands as they dragged up your body, brushing over the curve of your waist, before hesitantly skimming the side of your right breast like he was afraid to touch too much of you all at once. 

“Cloud,” you whispered, taking one of his trembling hands and pressing it against your breast. His palm was warm even through the shirt, calluses catching on fabric. You arched into him, encouraging. 

His eyes widened, mouth falling open slightly as though he couldn’t quite believe you wanted this, wanted him. “...You’re so soft,” he breathed, fingers flexing unconsciously. He thumbed over your nipple through the fabric, and when you gasped, his cock twitched violently against you, a groan ripping out of his chest. 

You tugged at the hem of your shirt. “Take it off of me.” you whined. 

For a moment he froze then obeyed, fumbling clumsily with the fabric before pulling it over your head and discarding it on the floor. His breath caught audibly when he saw you bare before him, and he just… stopped. Stared. His lips parted, chest rising and falling like he’d run a mile. His eyes darted between each breast, like he was afraid to miss a single detail. 

His voice cracked, reverent. “You’re so beautiful.” 

When his hands finally cupped your breasts, it wasn’t smooth or practiced, it was needy. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, making you moan and arch into him, your own hands tangling in his blond spikes as you kissed him again, sloppy and desperate. 

“Want to see you too,” you whisper. Your fingers trailed down his chest, feeling the hard lines of muscle beneath his shirt. His breathing stuttered as you tugged it up, exposing his skin to the cool air, and he lifted his arms clumsily to let you pull it over his head.

He was beautiful, lean and strong, scars scattered across his pale skin, but his eyes held none of the cocky pride of a man who knew his effect. Instead, they were wide and vulnerable like he wasn’t used to being seen. 

You kissed your way down his throat, his chest, listening to every sharp inhale, every shiver. When you shifted lower and palmed him through his pants, his whole body jolted beneath you.

“Wait-” His voice cracked, but his hips bucked helplessly into your hand. His cock twitched violently, straining against the fabric. “I- fuck-”

You smiled against his skin, tugging his waistband down just enough to free him. He was thick, tip flushed red and dripping with precum, the sight alone making your mouth water. When you wrapped your warm mouth around him, his head fell back against the pillow, a ragged moan tearing out of him.

 “Shit- you- I can’t-” He was already trembling, thighs taut, every bob of your head was pulling him closer to the edge far too quickly. He clutched at the comforter, fists tight, trying to hold himself back, but when you buried his cock so deep in your throat that your nose pressed against his pubic bone, he felt his balls tighten and his hips jerked violently.

“F-fuck-stop, stop-” he gasped, voice raw. His hand shot out, gripping your hair, pulling you up before he came embarrassingly quick. His cheeks burned red, his chest heaving. “I almost-I would’ve-” He swallowed hard, eyes squeezing shut in embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I've never done this before..."

You straddled him again, cupping his flushed face until he opened those glowing eyes. “Cloud. Don’t apologize. Do you want to try and help me?” you crawled off of him and leaned back against your pillows, spreading your legs slightly. He nods slowly, feeling unsure of himself but his cock twitches at your request. He shifts over to you and removes your cotton shorts, leaving you in just your gray panties with a little pink bow nestled on the waistband. He glances down at the wet spot that had formed and he gulps. “Fuck…” His voice was hoarse. “That’s because of me?” You nod, hips jerking upwards instinctively. 

He swells with pride at the sight. He pulls your panties down your legs, your wetness attaching to the fabric causing strings of sticky arousal. You clench, feeling the cold air hitting your warm pussy. Cloud licks his lips at the sight. Then suddenly, you grab his wrist guiding it down, “Now, do slow circles here.” you place his hand on your puffy clit.

Cloud followed your instruction with sharp concentration, eyes fixed on you like you and your pretty pussy were the only things in the world. He was tentative at first, but when your head tipped back and a moan slipped out, his whole body shivered. His strokes grew more confident, more eager, like he was desperate to learn everything that made you fall apart. 

When your hips bucked into his hand, he let out a soft, needy sound, half whimper, half groan, before dipping a finger inside you. The heat and tightness around him made him choke out a curse. 

“Am I doing it right?”

“Yes- fuck don’t stop.” you moan breathlessly. 

He obeyed, curling his fingers clumsily, watching in awe as your body writhed under his touch. When you trembled and finally came undone around his hand, crying out his name, Cloud stared like he’d just witnessed something holy. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his lips parted in stunned silence. 

Then, hesitantly, he pulled his fingers out and looked at the slick coating them. His tongue darted out before he caught himself, face flushing deep red. 

You caught his wrist and brought his fingers to his lips. “Taste me.”

His eyes darkened, and when he obeyed, sliding his tongue over his fingers, groaning low at the taste, something inside him had awoken. He leaned down, pressing his mouth to your core, desperate to taste more. 

His tongue was unpracticed, too rough at first, but your hands in his hair helped him find the right rhythm. And once he heard those pretty moans spilling from your lips, Cloud latched onto your clit with an intensity that had you gasping his name again, his fingers curling inside you with a perfect pressure. 

When you came the second time, thighs trembling around his head, Cloud didn’t pull back. He groaned against you, drinking in every shudder, like he was addicted to the nectar dripping from your sweet cunt. “Fuck Cloud. That was amazing.”

And when he finally pulled away, lips and chin glistening, his voice was desperate, “I need to be inside you. Please. I can’t- I can’t wait anymore.”

You straddled him again, pushing him against the pillows, you positioned your hips above his. His cock bobs before you grasp him in your hand, giving him a few light tugs that leave him breathless, before lining him up with your entrance. You abruptly stop and Cloud’s head snaps up, “What’s wrong?” chest still heaving. 

“I don’t have a condom…” you say, voice faltering. 

“I-it’s okay. Just need to feel you, please.” he whimpers. The noise made your pussy clench and you nod, realigning his cock with your entrance.  

His eyes widened when the head of his cock pressed against your wetness, the raw heat of you making him groan, fists tightening in the sheets.

“Wait-fuck, you’re really-” His words broke off into a sharp gasp as you sank down onto him, inch by inch. His head tipped back, mouth falling open as if the sheer tightness around him was too much to bear. “O-oh f-f-fuck…” you mewl out. 

“Holy shit. You’re so tight, you’re so perfect.” His voice cracked, every muscle in his body trembling as you bottomed out. Your pussy flutters around him causing his hips to jerk. 

You paused to let him breathe, hands resting on his chest. His heart was pounding like a metronome beneath your palms. “You okay?” looking down at his flushed face. 

He nodded lazily, eyes glazed. “Just don’t move yet. Please. I’ll cum too quickly.”

You smiled and leaned down to kiss him, slow and sweet, letting him adjust. His lips moved in perfect sync with your own, his hands hovering like he didn’t know where to touch until instinct finally took over. He cupped your breasts, squeezing gently, thumbs brushing across your nipples. The moan it pulled from you made his hips twitch up helplessly. 

When you finally began to rock your hips, his hands shot to the plush flesh of your ass like he needed an anchor. “Fuck, don’t-don’t stop.” His voice was hoarse, nearly pleading. 

Riding him was intoxicating, the way his cock filled you, the way his face contorted with every grind of your hips. He stared up at you like he’d never seen anything so beautiful, breathless groans slipping past his lips each time you took him deeper. You sat up straighter and reached behind your back, cupping his balls, squeezing and palming them. Cloud moaned out louder than he had intended to and his grip on your ass tightened. 

Your pace quickened, chasing your own release, and Cloud’s control cracked. His hips bucked up into you, erratic, desperate thrusts that made you cry out. Your tits bounced in front of his face as he fucked up into you, “I’m-shit, I’m so close, I can’t-” He was nearly incoherent, eyes squeezing shut, jaw clenched tight as if he was fighting it with everything he had. But then you moaned his name, and something inside him snapped. 

He sat up suddenly, arms circling your waist, grinding you down onto him as his mouth latched onto your breast. His tongue was hot and messy against your nipple, teeth grazing just enough to make your back arch.

One arm stayed wrapped around your waist while the other fumbled down between you, fingers rubbing at your clit in frantic circles. “Cum with me-please, I want you to- please-, cum for me baby.” he pleads. 

The mix of his cock pulsing inside you, his mouth sucking at your nipple, and the fast strokes on your clit tipped you over that delicious edge. Your orgasm tore through you violently, and Cloud fell apart with you, thrusting up into your dripping pussy with a guttural moan.

His release filled you in hot, unrelenting pulses, his body jerking as if he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. He buried his face against your chest, panting, almost whining with the intensity of it.

When you both finally came down from your simultaneous orgasms, he collapsed back against the pillow, arms still locked tight around you. His cheeks were flushed, lips parted, eyes glassy as he tried to catch his breath.

There was a beat of silence, the two of you catching your breath. He didn’t say anything, just pulled you closer and stroked your hair. You laid your head against his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat calming, until finally, “I love you.” Cloud wasn’t sure of many things but this, this he was sure of. 

You smiled, sleepy and spent (and maybe a little cockdrunk), “I love you too, Cloud.”

Varka’s always been quite fond of you. Has always caught your gaze at meetings or around town, you’ve exchanged a few letters back and forth during his time away for missions and he always seem to prefer discussing his findings on his return with you. Much to the distaste of a few others, but Varka’s never been one to shy away from letting his…. respect for your hard work to be known.

You do a lot for the Knights of Favonius. Which means you do a lot for Varka.

Maybe even a lot more than you realise.

So when you’d invited Varka out for drinks to celebrate his return to Mondstadt, to then spend the earlier part of the night admiring the unbuttoned top of his shirt with a glimmer of curiosity sparking in the irises of your eyes when you’d caught a glimpse of the many scars across his skin. Sure, he had perhaps been a little too eager to pull off his shirt completely when you’d asked “Can I see them?” in that convincing, saccharine tone that you always do.

Blame it on the wine.

But with the most recent, long mission in Nod Krai finally far behind him. Well, Varka thinks it’s only right that he allows himself to let off some steam the only way he knows how… right?

You press a little bit more of your weight into Varka’s side as your finger drags down a little lower, tracing the thick muscle of his peck until you watch the skin twitch beneath your touch. And then you cast him a glance, following it with another little bat of your lashes that has Varka having to take a big swig of wine to keep himself from melting.

“And this one?” You hum, touch stroking back and forth across another line in his skin.

He doesn’t need to pull his gaze away from yours to answer.

“From a wild beast out by Starfell Valley. I wrestled it with my bare hands, you know. I’m surprised you haven’t already heard the story, they called me a real hero, saved the whole village from being overrun and all I got as a souvenir was this little thing.” He says, voice loud and proud but close as he tilts his head down towards the gash. “It was no walk in the park, but it was no match for me.”

“That’s pretty cool, seems you’re quite the force to be reckoned with.” You giggle with another sway, and Varka steadies you with a hand around your waist, pulling you deeper into the booth until you’ve no choice but to flatten your palm against his abdomen to keep steady.

“You think so?” He hums, his voice low and strained. You only realise how close you both appear to be when it urges you to look up, his face just short of yours. “There’s a lot more than just that.”

“More?” You mimic him, but your words come out a little more lithe and dreamy than you intend them to. The heat in Varka’s gaze makes your mouth feel dry, but before you can give way to those thoughts his hand releases his drink in favour of taking hold of yours.

He drags it down a little lower while you watch, fingers tracing down his pecks to the broad, strong muscles of his abdomen and he hisses when you apply pressure to a particularly sensitive spot at his waist. His body jolts into your touch as you find a newer, pinker scar mid-way down, just to the side of his lower stomach.

You tease it with your fingers, and he has to muffle the groan it drags out of him with a low laugh.

“Heh, careful.” Varka hums, half-slurred but trying to play it off.

“Does it hurt?” Your head rolls onto his thick shoulder, and you bat your lashes up at him as your finger traces the outline. There’s a shift to his hips when you look at him, and maybe you’d pick up on why if you were only to look down.

Varka grins, shaking his head as he lowers his face to make sure you can hear him over the music. “Oh no. That’s not what I’m worried about.”

There’s a shift in the atmosphere after that, a hitch in your breath as your touch continues to move back and forth across Varka’s bare skin. The muscle contracts and twitches as your touch twirls itself a little lower, and you think there’s a glimmer of something in the Grandmaster’s gaze that makes you feel warm and delightfully giddy.

You could blame it on the wine, your tolerance barely scratching the surface of what he’s able to consume. But you’ve not had enough to cloud your judgement that much, and you’re still in full control when you find it in yourself to swing your thighs over the closest one of Varka’s to you, scrambling slightly until you’re almost perched on his lap with a subtle push closer.

And perhaps you’d be embarrassed at how forward you’re being if it weren’t for him helping you.

Your eyes leave his for a moment as you rest your palm flat against his lower stomach. And you’ve gotten close enough to the point you can feel his breath fan across your features, sweet with wine and just as tempting.

“Any more?” You ask, barely managing a whisper as your eyes drag back up to Varka’s.

If you weren’t so close you don’t think he’d be able to hear you given the lively background noise and the live music. But given your more than intimate little private setting, he doesn’t miss a single syllable as his arm hooks around your waist— making sure you’re kept close.

Varka’s response comes only when he leans in to brush his lips along the shell of your ear.

“Oh, I’ve got a lot more to show you… you might even find what i’ve got left to be more impressive.”

“Is that even possible?” You say, in equal parts disbelief and anticipation. Varka’s fingers stroke back and forth across the ticklish parts of your waist, and when you absentmindedly let your fingers drop to rest on the waistband of his pants, his hips shamelessly twitch up to meet it.

And suddenly there’s something scalding in the look he gives you when he pulls away, grinning.

“Well, that’s for you to decide.”

varka is all hot breath, fervent blush, and skin damp from sweat. you're sitting in his lap, melting further into him, pressing flush to his body, taking his thick cock so deep. you soak him, bouncing on him slowly, letting him feel the warmth of your syrupy insides while you enjoy how his dick drags against your sweet spots. varka so desperately wants you to ride him faster, but no, you are eager to torture him more. 

your hot breath fans across his neck, you leave open-mouthed kisses, nipping his skin, sometimes even sinking your teeth into his flesh. varka throws his head back, giving you more space; he can't hold back sounds. your tongue goes down, tracing his jaw, his neck, deliberately all the way to his necklace. you leave a kiss near his necklace, playing with the wolf fang pendant. the very same necklace you found so seductive when it hangs on his chest when the top buttons of his shirt are undone. like a cat chasing a toy, you couldn't take your eyes off him when he was training, swinging his greatswords, and his pendant followed his moves. 

you move faster for a few moments, rolling your hips in a teasing rhythm, varka’s own hips jerking up instinctively, but you pause your movements and pull his necklace, like telling him to be a good boy and stay still, catching him off guard. he groaned and you kissed him on the mouth. it’s a deep kiss, all tongues, teeth, and saliva. varka’s hands roam your thighs, pulling you closer—and you think you can feel him in your womb—his fingers digging into your skin, leaving marks.

you pull his necklace again, playing with the wolf fang. your other hand scratches his pecs, and pinches his nipple. you’re staring at him, his disheveled look, his lips shiny with saliva, his darkened eyes with dilated pupils, kiss marks on his neck—and can’t help but clench around him. ah, you reached the breaking point before he did; your teasing became your own end. you start moving desperately, but you still play with his pendant, pulling with every rock of your hips.

varka is all hot breath, fervent blush, and skin damp from sweat. you're sitting in his lap, melting further into him, pressing flush to his body, taking his thick cock so deep. you soak him, bouncing on him slowly, letting him feel the warmth of your syrupy insides while you enjoy how his dick drags against your sweet spots. varka so desperately wants you to ride him faster, but no, you are eager to torture him more. 

your hot breath fans across his neck, you leave open-mouthed kisses, nipping his skin, sometimes even sinking your teeth into his flesh. varka throws his head back, giving you more space; he can't hold back sounds. your tongue goes down, tracing his jaw, his neck, deliberately all the way to his necklace. you leave a kiss near his necklace, playing with the wolf fang pendant. the very same necklace you found so seductive when it hangs on his chest when the top buttons of his shirt are undone. like a cat chasing a toy, you couldn't take your eyes off him when he was training, swinging his greatswords, and his pendant followed his moves. 

you move faster for a few moments, rolling your hips in a teasing rhythm, varka’s own hips jerking up instinctively, but you pause your movements and pull his necklace, like telling him to be a good boy and stay still, catching him off guard. he groaned and you kissed him on the mouth. it’s a deep kiss, all tongues, teeth, and saliva. varka’s hands roam your thighs, pulling you closer—and you think you can feel him in your womb—his fingers digging into your skin, leaving marks.

you pull his necklace again, playing with the wolf fang. your other hand scratches his pecs, and pinches his nipple. you’re staring at him, his disheveled look, his lips shiny with saliva, his darkened eyes with dilated pupils, kiss marks on his neck—and can’t help but clench around him. ah, you reached the breaking point before he did; your teasing became your own end. you start moving desperately, but you still play with his pendant, pulling with every rock of your hips.

Varka’s always been quite fond of you. Has always caught your gaze at meetings or around town, you’ve exchanged a few letters back and forth during his time away for missions and he always seem to prefer discussing his findings on his return with you. Much to the distaste of a few others, but Varka’s never been one to shy away from letting his…. respect for your hard work to be known.

You do a lot for the Knights of Favonius. Which means you do a lot for Varka.

Maybe even a lot more than you realise.

So when you’d invited Varka out for drinks to celebrate his return to Mondstadt, to then spend the earlier part of the night admiring the unbuttoned top of his shirt with a glimmer of curiosity sparking in the irises of your eyes when you’d caught a glimpse of the many scars across his skin. Sure, he had perhaps been a little too eager to pull off his shirt completely when you’d asked “Can I see them?” in that convincing, saccharine tone that you always do.

Blame it on the wine.

But with the most recent, long mission in Nod Krai finally far behind him. Well, Varka thinks it’s only right that he allows himself to let off some steam the only way he knows how… right?

You press a little bit more of your weight into Varka’s side as your finger drags down a little lower, tracing the thick muscle of his peck until you watch the skin twitch beneath your touch. And then you cast him a glance, following it with another little bat of your lashes that has Varka having to take a big swig of wine to keep himself from melting.

“And this one?” You hum, touch stroking back and forth across another line in his skin.

He doesn’t need to pull his gaze away from yours to answer.

“From a wild beast out by Starfell Valley. I wrestled it with my bare hands, you know. I’m surprised you haven’t already heard the story, they called me a real hero, saved the whole village from being overrun and all I got as a souvenir was this little thing.” He says, voice loud and proud but close as he tilts his head down towards the gash. “It was no walk in the park, but it was no match for me.”

“That’s pretty cool, seems you’re quite the force to be reckoned with.” You giggle with another sway, and Varka steadies you with a hand around your waist, pulling you deeper into the booth until you’ve no choice but to flatten your palm against his abdomen to keep steady.

“You think so?” He hums, his voice low and strained. You only realise how close you both appear to be when it urges you to look up, his face just short of yours. “There’s a lot more than just that.”

“More?” You mimic him, but your words come out a little more lithe and dreamy than you intend them to. The heat in Varka’s gaze makes your mouth feel dry, but before you can give way to those thoughts his hand releases his drink in favour of taking hold of yours.

He drags it down a little lower while you watch, fingers tracing down his pecks to the broad, strong muscles of his abdomen and he hisses when you apply pressure to a particularly sensitive spot at his waist. His body jolts into your touch as you find a newer, pinker scar mid-way down, just to the side of his lower stomach.

You tease it with your fingers, and he has to muffle the groan it drags out of him with a low laugh.

“Heh, careful.” Varka hums, half-slurred but trying to play it off.

“Does it hurt?” Your head rolls onto his thick shoulder, and you bat your lashes up at him as your finger traces the outline. There’s a shift to his hips when you look at him, and maybe you’d pick up on why if you were only to look down.

Varka grins, shaking his head as he lowers his face to make sure you can hear him over the music. “Oh no. That’s not what I’m worried about.”

There’s a shift in the atmosphere after that, a hitch in your breath as your touch continues to move back and forth across Varka’s bare skin. The muscle contracts and twitches as your touch twirls itself a little lower, and you think there’s a glimmer of something in the Grandmaster’s gaze that makes you feel warm and delightfully giddy.

You could blame it on the wine, your tolerance barely scratching the surface of what he’s able to consume. But you’ve not had enough to cloud your judgement that much, and you’re still in full control when you find it in yourself to swing your thighs over the closest one of Varka’s to you, scrambling slightly until you’re almost perched on his lap with a subtle push closer.

And perhaps you’d be embarrassed at how forward you’re being if it weren’t for him helping you.

Your eyes leave his for a moment as you rest your palm flat against his lower stomach. And you’ve gotten close enough to the point you can feel his breath fan across your features, sweet with wine and just as tempting.

“Any more?” You ask, barely managing a whisper as your eyes drag back up to Varka’s.

If you weren’t so close you don’t think he’d be able to hear you given the lively background noise and the live music. But given your more than intimate little private setting, he doesn’t miss a single syllable as his arm hooks around your waist— making sure you’re kept close.

Varka’s response comes only when he leans in to brush his lips along the shell of your ear.

“Oh, I’ve got a lot more to show you… you might even find what i’ve got left to be more impressive.”

“Is that even possible?” You say, in equal parts disbelief and anticipation. Varka’s fingers stroke back and forth across the ticklish parts of your waist, and when you absentmindedly let your fingers drop to rest on the waistband of his pants, his hips shamelessly twitch up to meet it.

And suddenly there’s something scalding in the look he gives you when he pulls away, grinning.

“Well, that’s for you to decide.”

You gently grip his jaw to turn his face and kiss it right off. And Varka is realizing that it’s a miracle he made it this long in a tent alone, sleeping at this place and that, far away from you. Far away from your warmth and your touch and those soft, gentle lips of yours.

“You wouldn’t have happened to wake me up just for breakfast, would you?” He mumbles, fingers trailing along your hips as he pulls you closer.

“Of course it is,” you tease, “in fact, now that you’re back, so is your mora. Why not just treat me to a meal at Good Hunter, then?”

“You didn’t miss me for any other reason?” He practically whines—as much as such a gruff and deep voice can whine, that is. His face tucks into the juncture of your neck, and you make room for him there. Like he belongs. (He does.)

Your fingers curl into the soft, blonde strands as you murmur, “No I think that’s all there was to it. An extra set of hands to help around the house, and some mora I can use.”

“Nothing else?” He presses.

“Nothing else,” you giggle.

He huffs. Presses soft, lingering kisses along your neck. Traces his lips and his tongue over the bruised, purpled marks along your neck from the night before. You shiver. He hums in satisfaction.

“Nothing else, huh?” He chuckles lowly. “Not this?”

“Nope. Didn’t miss that,” you shrug, “I can live without it.”

“Yeah?” He drawls, “don’t think that’s what it seemed like last night.”

“Last night you tricked me into bed with you,” you quip petulantly. “How unbecoming of a knight. You’ve forgotten how chivalry works.”

“Now, now, miss,” he pulls away to give you a dramatic, scandalized look, “if my memory serves me right, I remember a very troublesome pair of hands wanderin’ last night at Angel’s Share.”

He gives you a look. You only grin in response.

You’ve missed Varka. You’ve waited year after year with nothing but letters to hear from him. You’ve slept night after night alone. And it was worth it, of course—Varka is always worth it. You know it as soon as those eyes crack open at Windrise and his irises meet yours.

You’d do it all over again. You know that as easily as the wind blows North.

And…well, when he is so close to you, sitting right there in the seat beside you as he celebrates his return over a glass of wine, you can’t help but let your hand linger along his thigh under the booth. Crawl along the inner portion and familiarize yourself with the sheer broadness of his…everything. He is broad and beautiful and he comes back to you even larger than you remember him.

Years apart has faded your memory to vague images of how large his hands are compared to yours, and how tall his frame is next to you.

So you feel him. A little riskier than you’d care to admit, and perhaps a little too teasing in nature given the way he stiffens with a hitch in his breath, but you’ve missed Varka. And dandelion wine will always be there after he’s had his way with you.

“Troublesome?” You gasp, “I was merely remembering how you felt after so long. It’s been so long since I’ve last held you, you know.”

He softens at that. His eyes glaze with something a little more melancholy. Something a little more bitter despite the joy that radiates so easily off of him.

“Sorry I made you wait so long,” he mumbles. “You didn’t have to.”

“Don’t say silly things, Varka,” you sigh gently, cradling his cheeks. He closes his eyes as you press a small kiss to the tip of his nose. “I’d have waited longer. You know that.”

“I’m not sure I’d want that,” he breathes out as you press gentle kisses along his cheeks, finding the corner of his lips. “Waiting longer. Don’t know how I’d make it through that.”

“I think it’s best we don’t dwell on things,” you trace the scar on his cheek with a thumb. He relaxes slightly at the touch. “You’re home now, aren’t you?”

“Suppose I am,” he cracks a grin. “Gettin’ woken up against my will, having my mora drained—certainly back to the way things were before I left.”

You roll your eyes as he chuckles. And when he flops over and presses his weight onto you, you almost feel like the years haven’t flown by at all. You’re still young. Still in love. Still just the same you who found home in the arms of a charmingly ambitious boy. And he is still home, right here where he is yours.

“I want breakfast,” you demand with a pleading pout.

He grins. Things are back to normal—Varka is home. “Whatever milady wants,” he says through a low chuckle.

“I saw you getting a little carried away,” Varka manages a laugh, despite the fact he also pushed the limits of his impressive tolerance enough to feel like he’s balancing on one foot. “Here, let me walk you home.”

You peer up at him, contemplating. His blonde hair is a mess, sticking up in all different directions, and his face is flushed from the alcohol. His heavy jacket seems to have been discarded somewhere inside the pub, like he was in a rush to get out.

Did he follow you?

You blink. He probably just wanted to make sure you were okay. I mean, ever since you first arrived in Mondstadt, the Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius was one of the first to offer you a warm welcome. He had just returned from his expedition in Nod Krai, and after all the time he spent away, you coined it as him being excited to introduce someone new to a place he loved so dearly. His home, which was slowly becoming yours, as well.

He would always rush you to join him for a drink, train with him, anything that kept you close.

It would be a lie to say you didn’t develop quite the liking for him. Everything about him was magnetic to the most literal definition of the word. He drew people in as a natural consequence of being himself, people like you especially.

Who would you be to say no?

“Alright,” you agree. “Do you remember—”

“Yeah, I know where your place is. Come on, then.”

He comes up beside you, placing his hand on your lower back to guide you away from the pub, the celebration inside still roaring with life. The touch of his rough fingertips against the soft skin your shirt exposes spreads a warmth all the way from the top of your head to the tips of your toes, but you feel it most prominently in your lower stomach.

“Thank you.” You breathe out, grabbing the side of his shirt to help yourself balance.

He chuckles lowly. “No need to thank me. Protecting you is my job.”

You look up at him. “Your job, huh?”

“I…” He laughs again. “As Grand Master, I mean. It’s my job to protect everyone in Mondstadt.”

You nod, and the motion makes you feel like there’s an angry ocean storming in your skull. You can't recall the last time you drank so much. “Right.”

He readjusts his hand, his thumb slipping just below the hem of your shirt. You bite your lip, leaning against him for support as a hazy feeling weakens your limbs. You urge to press your thighs together, just the presence of him in combination with your alcohol-induced state making the softest of touches feel euphoric.

His own next breath is noticeably more nervous than the ones before, and he has to move his hand to the sensitive nerves on your waist to keep you steady. 

“Varka…” You push against him again.

He doesn’t say anything.

Soon enough he’s guiding you up the steps of your porch, and you’re unlocking the front door with unsteady hands while he leans against the railing. You glance at him. His chest rises and falls quickly, and he keeps his eyes low like he’s struggling to look at you. Something is on his mind.

“Those last few drinks setting in?” You croak, getting the door open and pushing it forward, the cold air from inside the house hitting your skin.

“Uh—” His eyes snap to yours. “Must be.”

“Come inside for a minute,” you offer, and just hearing the invite spill from your own lips feeds into the arousal already settling in your body from his touch. “Have some water before you walk back. It'll help.”

He considers it, biting his lip. “I appreciate it, but I shouldn’t.” He shakes his head. “Someone else might need a hand…”

“It’ll be fine for a minute,” you push, and Varka’s light blue eyes, half-lidded from intoxication and something else, stay locked on you. “I insist.”

He sighs, nodding slowly in surrender. “Alright. Just for a moment.”

You’re quick to step inside your small but cozy home, Varka following closely, his footsteps heavy against the floorboards. He lets the door fall closed behind him. The only light comes from a dim lamp on the kitchen counter, and you don’t bother with flicking any others on as you hurry over and grab a bottle from your fridge. Your head pounds, begging for a moment of rest, but the rest of your body begs for something else much louder.

Varka meets you in the barely spacious room. When he gets close enough, you can feel his warmth spreading through the chill of the room. 

“Here.” You hand him the water.

Your wonky world manages to center as you watch his large hand unscrew the cap. You roll your bottom lip into your mouth subconsciously, studying the way his biceps flex as he lifts his arm, the way he holds the rim of the bottle just above his mouth, the way his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows…

Varka doesn’t miss the way you throw one leg over the other and clench your thighs, or the way your eyebrows pinch together when you do.

He certainly doesn’t miss the way your eyes stay on him the whole time.

He steps towards you, and just when you think his chest is going to press against yours, he stops. He reaches past you, putting the bottle on the wide kitchen counter you lean against.

“Thank you.”

Your eyes wander as you mumble something that can barely be discerned as a you’re welcome. His shirt is tight around his rigid body, but it’s nothing compared to the way his pants contain a noticeable bulge.

You whisper his name, and it comes out sounding like a plea.

Varka clears his throat. “I should go now.”

You say his name again, your hands reaching out to clutch the sides of his shirt.

This time it’s him saying your name, but instead of a plea, it’s a warning.

You ignore it.

You tug him closer, and only his sheer strength and finely honed self control stops his body from pressing against yours. You look up at him, eyes glossed over with need, hands sliding to his hips.

“I know you followed me out of the pub.” You rasp, one hand trailing up his chest. Varka’s breath hitches, and he braces a palm against the counter right beside your body. 

“I told you,” he whispers, “I saw that you drank too much. I needed to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m not the only one who drank too much, Varka.” Your hand continues its exploration, tangling up in his hair and tugging, forcing him to keep looking at you. Even in your drunken state, he looks beautiful. “You’ve barely been staying upright yourself. You think I haven't noticed?"

His jaw clenches.

“Stay,” you beg, pulling his head down further. “Just for a little longer.”

He swallows. “You’re—”

You press your mouth to his, effectively cutting him off. Both your hands are in his hair now, holding him close. He stills, everything from his movement to his breathing, and right when you think it might be better to pull away and let him leave, his hand is on your hip.

He kisses you back hungrily. His large form pins you to the counter, and when you struggle to grind your needy core against his bulge, he hoists you onto the surface. You lock your legs around his waist, your skirt hiking up, moaning in his mouth at the first real feeling of pleasure when the tent in his slacks rubs against your clit through the thin fabric of your underwear.

“Varka,” you whine. 

He swallows the sound, one of his palms cupping your face as he eagerly presses his tongue past your lips.

“Two minutes,” he mumbles.

You nod in agreement. Two minutes of this, and then he goes back to the pub.

You slide your tongue over his, tasting the regular booze on his breath. It’s addictive, and you yearn to get even more drunk than you already are on nothing but him. 

Varka’s hand closes around your hip to help you along, rolling your hips against his. Your desperate sounds are drowned out by each other’s lips, nothing but the lewd noises of your mouths and rustling fabric filling the otherwise dead silent house.

You throw your head back to breathe, which Varka takes as an invitation to start kissing and sucking at your neck. You tug at his nape, rocking your hips, feeling the way your arousal is soaking through your underwear. You wonder if he can feel how wet you are for him, if there’s a damp spot forming on the front of his pants from you desperately dry humping his clothed cock.

The alcohol makes every small bit of stimulation feel more intense, but your body still begs for something more.

“I need more,” you whine. “Just a little more… A few more minutes, Varka, please.”

He growls against the warm skin of your neck. “Two more minutes.”

His hand dips between your bodies, hooking two fingers in the hem of your underwear and pulling them down your thighs, just enough to expose you under your skirt. You moan in anticipation, bracing one hand on the cold counter top behind you and keeping the other slung over his shoulders.

The pads of his fingers find your clit, and the sound that emerges from deep in your chest is one of utter relief. He starts to draw slow circles, pulling his head out of the crook of your neck to watch the pretty faces his movements elicit. 

“Is this good?” He asks hoarsely, his forehead pressing against yours as he begins to rub your clit faster.

“Yes, oh Gods, Varka!” You close your fist in his hair, head tilting back. “Ah… Please don’t stop.”

He suddenly pulls away. Right when you think he’s honouring his word and your two minutes are up, his digits are replaced with his thumb, and he’s instead nudging your fluttering hole with the pads of his fingers.

“Oh. Yes, Varka…”

He grunts, capturing your lips again as he sinks two fingers inside of your cunt.

You whimper against his mouth, rolling your hips onto his hand greedily. He fills you to the second knuckle, still circling your clit with his thumb. The overload of sensations makes you feel like you’re ascending to a different realm. The pleasure coiling in your lower stomach, the smell of him, the taste, everything.

He drags his fingers across all the right places inside of you, curling them against spots that make you see stars.

Varka groans at the way you clench around his fingers, flicking his wrist with more vigour. “Taking good care of you, am I?”

The pleasure binds tighter, your toes curling, knees squeezing his hips. “Yes, yes, sir.”

“Oh—Fuck.” He steadies your hips, forcing you to stay still as he tips you over the edge. You cry out, back arching and eyes squeezing shut as stars appear in the void. You chant his name like a prayer, and he works you through the orgasm eagerly.

His hand retreats from between your legs once you start to come down.

You whine, sitting up properly and grabbing at his shirt. Your mind couldn't be more fogged thanks to the alcohol and recent orgasm, but you still hold him tightly. “No, don’t go.”

His sighs your name, shaking his head like he already knows he’s lost whatever game you’re playing with him.

“I’m supposed to—”

You reach down to palm his bulge, and he groans out through gritted teeth.

“Two more minutes,” you say, kicking your panties the rest of the way off. “I want to feel you, Varka.”

His eyes meet yours, and the look he’s giving you is the kind of dangerous that has you dripping on the counter below you.

“I’m not asking you to fuck me,” You plead, starting to unbuckle his belt with haste. “Just want to feel you for a second.”

He warns you by saying your name firmly, the authoritative tone making you feel weak.

“Just a little, Varka. Just for a second.”

He doesn’t make any moves to stop you when you pull his belt out of the loops and toss it aside. You unbutton and unzip his slacks, pulling them and his boxers down just enough to let his cock spring out.

The size of him is immediately intimidating, but you ignore it and take the base of him in your palm.

Varka grips the counter with both hands, caging you in, fists turning white.

“Just a little, okay?” You meet his eyes.

His gaze flickers between your face and his cock in your hand.

“Just a little,” he agrees, voice thick with arousal. He pulls your hand off of him, tugging you to the very edge of the counter by your thighs and lining himself up with your cunt.

You’re both panting, watching closely as he nudges your folds with the thick head of his cock. You bite into your lip to conceal a whimper.

You gasp together when his tip pushes inside you. Even just this much causes a small ache to start sprouting deep in your stomach, but even that slight pain is the most pleasant thing you’ve ever felt.

“Varka,” you cry, putting your hands on his shoulders. 

He’s intently staring at where he’s barely pressed inside of you, his cock twitching in anticipation and his swollen lips slightly parted in pleasure.

You lift your hips, trying to urge him deeper, but his hand snaps to your hip before you get the chance.

“A bit more,” you murmur.

Varka inhales sharply. “I can’t—”

“Just a bit, let me feel you.”

He grunts, staying still for a beat before finally pressing another inch of his cock inside of you.

Maybe it’s the way you moan his name, or how your pussy clenches around him, tirelessly trying to tug him in deeper, but Varka snaps.

“I can’t.” He breathes out, bracing both his hands on your hips. “I can’t. I need—”

“It’s okay,” You assure him swiftly, and you drop back to hold yourself up on your forearms. “Take it, Varka. Take—”

He bottoms out in one quick thrust.

You scream, your back hitting the counter as the wonderful swirl of pleasure and pain makes your body entirely succumb to him.

“I’m sorry,” he says, but it barely sounds apologetic as he starts to thrust in and out of you at a quick pace. 

All you can do it take it, arching your back to accommodate him as he fucks you with everything he has. His hips slam against yours with enough force to bruise, and you just sputter out incomprehensible pleas for more. You squeeze and gush around him, making him groan your name.

He bottoms out with each thrust, making sure you feel every single inch of him dragging against your inner walls. He pulls the most beautiful of noises from your chest, each one fuelling him to pound into you with even more force.

“Good girl—So good.” He huffs, voice hoarse, but you barely hear him as you make the shift from alcohol drunk to cock drunk as he drives into you over and over again. He’s filling you up so good, pinning your hips to the counter to keep you in place as he gives you exactly what you were begging for.

Varka grunts, retracting one of his hands to start rubbing your clit as he keeps fucking in and out of you with brutal force.

“Varka!” You squeal, trying to snap your legs shut, but his body planted between your thighs keeps you wide open for him.

He laughs lowly, trailing off into a raspy moan. “Now you want to run?”

“No, no, don’t stop!” You arch your neck, one of your hands flying down to rest on his lower stomach, pushing even though you have no real desire to keep him out. “Varka, I’m so close…”

“Go on,” he encourages, hitting the perfect spot inside of you that makes you slur his name. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

At his command, you cry out and come undone around his cock. He keeps pumping inside of you for a few more strokes before pulling out with a groan, jerking himself off until he spills onto the front of your shirt.

You breathe heavily, going limp against your kitchen counter. Varka tenderly reaches under the hem of your shirt, carefully helping you strip it while he shushes your exhausted, hazy whines. If you were tired leaving the bar, there aren’t words for how spent you feel now.

“Did I hurt you?” He asks, guilt coating his voice like he’s coming out of whatever state he entered when he fucked you. “Fuck—”

“No, no.” You whisper, sitting up. You cup his face with two hands, fighting through your exhaustion to kiss him, and this time, he returns it gently, his arms fully encircling your naked body. You pull back just enough to see his face. “Will you stay?”

He grins, his nose brushing against yours. “Yeah, I’ll stay.”

“I saw you getting a little carried away,” Varka manages a laugh, despite the fact he also pushed the limits of his impressive tolerance enough to feel like he’s balancing on one foot. “Here, let me walk you home.”

You peer up at him, contemplating. His blonde hair is a mess, sticking up in all different directions, and his face is flushed from the alcohol. His heavy jacket seems to have been discarded somewhere inside the pub, like he was in a rush to get out.

Did he follow you?

You blink. He probably just wanted to make sure you were okay. I mean, ever since you first arrived in Mondstadt, the Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius was one of the first to offer you a warm welcome. He had just returned from his expedition in Nod Krai, and after all the time he spent away, you coined it as him being excited to introduce someone new to a place he loved so dearly. His home, which was slowly becoming yours, as well.

He would always rush you to join him for a drink, train with him, anything that kept you close.

It would be a lie to say you didn’t develop quite the liking for him. Everything about him was magnetic to the most literal definition of the word. He drew people in as a natural consequence of being himself, people like you especially.

Who would you be to say no?

“Alright,” you agree. “Do you remember—”

“Yeah, I know where your place is. Come on, then.”

He comes up beside you, placing his hand on your lower back to guide you away from the pub, the celebration inside still roaring with life. The touch of his rough fingertips against the soft skin your shirt exposes spreads a warmth all the way from the top of your head to the tips of your toes, but you feel it most prominently in your lower stomach.

“Thank you.” You breathe out, grabbing the side of his shirt to help yourself balance.

He chuckles lowly. “No need to thank me. Protecting you is my job.”

You look up at him. “Your job, huh?”

“I…” He laughs again. “As Grand Master, I mean. It’s my job to protect everyone in Mondstadt.”

You nod, and the motion makes you feel like there’s an angry ocean storming in your skull. You can't recall the last time you drank so much. “Right.”

He readjusts his hand, his thumb slipping just below the hem of your shirt. You bite your lip, leaning against him for support as a hazy feeling weakens your limbs. You urge to press your thighs together, just the presence of him in combination with your alcohol-induced state making the softest of touches feel euphoric.

His own next breath is noticeably more nervous than the ones before, and he has to move his hand to the sensitive nerves on your waist to keep you steady. 

“Varka…” You push against him again.

He doesn’t say anything.

Soon enough he’s guiding you up the steps of your porch, and you’re unlocking the front door with unsteady hands while he leans against the railing. You glance at him. His chest rises and falls quickly, and he keeps his eyes low like he’s struggling to look at you. Something is on his mind.

“Those last few drinks setting in?” You croak, getting the door open and pushing it forward, the cold air from inside the house hitting your skin.

“Uh—” His eyes snap to yours. “Must be.”

“Come inside for a minute,” you offer, and just hearing the invite spill from your own lips feeds into the arousal already settling in your body from his touch. “Have some water before you walk back. It'll help.”

He considers it, biting his lip. “I appreciate it, but I shouldn’t.” He shakes his head. “Someone else might need a hand…”

“It’ll be fine for a minute,” you push, and Varka’s light blue eyes, half-lidded from intoxication and something else, stay locked on you. “I insist.”

He sighs, nodding slowly in surrender. “Alright. Just for a moment.”

You’re quick to step inside your small but cozy home, Varka following closely, his footsteps heavy against the floorboards. He lets the door fall closed behind him. The only light comes from a dim lamp on the kitchen counter, and you don’t bother with flicking any others on as you hurry over and grab a bottle from your fridge. Your head pounds, begging for a moment of rest, but the rest of your body begs for something else much louder.

Varka meets you in the barely spacious room. When he gets close enough, you can feel his warmth spreading through the chill of the room. 

“Here.” You hand him the water.

Your wonky world manages to center as you watch his large hand unscrew the cap. You roll your bottom lip into your mouth subconsciously, studying the way his biceps flex as he lifts his arm, the way he holds the rim of the bottle just above his mouth, the way his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows…

Varka doesn’t miss the way you throw one leg over the other and clench your thighs, or the way your eyebrows pinch together when you do.

He certainly doesn’t miss the way your eyes stay on him the whole time.

He steps towards you, and just when you think his chest is going to press against yours, he stops. He reaches past you, putting the bottle on the wide kitchen counter you lean against.

“Thank you.”

Your eyes wander as you mumble something that can barely be discerned as a you’re welcome. His shirt is tight around his rigid body, but it’s nothing compared to the way his pants contain a noticeable bulge.

You whisper his name, and it comes out sounding like a plea.

Varka clears his throat. “I should go now.”

You say his name again, your hands reaching out to clutch the sides of his shirt.

This time it’s him saying your name, but instead of a plea, it’s a warning.

You ignore it.

You tug him closer, and only his sheer strength and finely honed self control stops his body from pressing against yours. You look up at him, eyes glossed over with need, hands sliding to his hips.

“I know you followed me out of the pub.” You rasp, one hand trailing up his chest. Varka’s breath hitches, and he braces a palm against the counter right beside your body. 

“I told you,” he whispers, “I saw that you drank too much. I needed to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m not the only one who drank too much, Varka.” Your hand continues its exploration, tangling up in his hair and tugging, forcing him to keep looking at you. Even in your drunken state, he looks beautiful. “You’ve barely been staying upright yourself. You think I haven't noticed?"

His jaw clenches.

“Stay,” you beg, pulling his head down further. “Just for a little longer.”

He swallows. “You’re—”

You press your mouth to his, effectively cutting him off. Both your hands are in his hair now, holding him close. He stills, everything from his movement to his breathing, and right when you think it might be better to pull away and let him leave, his hand is on your hip.

He kisses you back hungrily. His large form pins you to the counter, and when you struggle to grind your needy core against his bulge, he hoists you onto the surface. You lock your legs around his waist, your skirt hiking up, moaning in his mouth at the first real feeling of pleasure when the tent in his slacks rubs against your clit through the thin fabric of your underwear.

“Varka,” you whine. 

He swallows the sound, one of his palms cupping your face as he eagerly presses his tongue past your lips.

“Two minutes,” he mumbles.

You nod in agreement. Two minutes of this, and then he goes back to the pub.

You slide your tongue over his, tasting the regular booze on his breath. It’s addictive, and you yearn to get even more drunk than you already are on nothing but him. 

Varka’s hand closes around your hip to help you along, rolling your hips against his. Your desperate sounds are drowned out by each other’s lips, nothing but the lewd noises of your mouths and rustling fabric filling the otherwise dead silent house.

You throw your head back to breathe, which Varka takes as an invitation to start kissing and sucking at your neck. You tug at his nape, rocking your hips, feeling the way your arousal is soaking through your underwear. You wonder if he can feel how wet you are for him, if there’s a damp spot forming on the front of his pants from you desperately dry humping his clothed cock.

The alcohol makes every small bit of stimulation feel more intense, but your body still begs for something more.

“I need more,” you whine. “Just a little more… A few more minutes, Varka, please.”

He growls against the warm skin of your neck. “Two more minutes.”

His hand dips between your bodies, hooking two fingers in the hem of your underwear and pulling them down your thighs, just enough to expose you under your skirt. You moan in anticipation, bracing one hand on the cold counter top behind you and keeping the other slung over his shoulders.

The pads of his fingers find your clit, and the sound that emerges from deep in your chest is one of utter relief. He starts to draw slow circles, pulling his head out of the crook of your neck to watch the pretty faces his movements elicit. 

“Is this good?” He asks hoarsely, his forehead pressing against yours as he begins to rub your clit faster.

“Yes, oh Gods, Varka!” You close your fist in his hair, head tilting back. “Ah… Please don’t stop.”

He suddenly pulls away. Right when you think he’s honouring his word and your two minutes are up, his digits are replaced with his thumb, and he’s instead nudging your fluttering hole with the pads of his fingers.

“Oh. Yes, Varka…”

He grunts, capturing your lips again as he sinks two fingers inside of your cunt.

You whimper against his mouth, rolling your hips onto his hand greedily. He fills you to the second knuckle, still circling your clit with his thumb. The overload of sensations makes you feel like you’re ascending to a different realm. The pleasure coiling in your lower stomach, the smell of him, the taste, everything.

He drags his fingers across all the right places inside of you, curling them against spots that make you see stars.

Varka groans at the way you clench around his fingers, flicking his wrist with more vigour. “Taking good care of you, am I?”

The pleasure binds tighter, your toes curling, knees squeezing his hips. “Yes, yes, sir.”

“Oh—Fuck.” He steadies your hips, forcing you to stay still as he tips you over the edge. You cry out, back arching and eyes squeezing shut as stars appear in the void. You chant his name like a prayer, and he works you through the orgasm eagerly.

His hand retreats from between your legs once you start to come down.

You whine, sitting up properly and grabbing at his shirt. Your mind couldn't be more fogged thanks to the alcohol and recent orgasm, but you still hold him tightly. “No, don’t go.”

His sighs your name, shaking his head like he already knows he’s lost whatever game you’re playing with him.

“I’m supposed to—”

You reach down to palm his bulge, and he groans out through gritted teeth.

“Two more minutes,” you say, kicking your panties the rest of the way off. “I want to feel you, Varka.”

His eyes meet yours, and the look he’s giving you is the kind of dangerous that has you dripping on the counter below you.

“I’m not asking you to fuck me,” You plead, starting to unbuckle his belt with haste. “Just want to feel you for a second.”

He warns you by saying your name firmly, the authoritative tone making you feel weak.

“Just a little, Varka. Just for a second.”

He doesn’t make any moves to stop you when you pull his belt out of the loops and toss it aside. You unbutton and unzip his slacks, pulling them and his boxers down just enough to let his cock spring out.

The size of him is immediately intimidating, but you ignore it and take the base of him in your palm.

Varka grips the counter with both hands, caging you in, fists turning white.

“Just a little, okay?” You meet his eyes.

His gaze flickers between your face and his cock in your hand.

“Just a little,” he agrees, voice thick with arousal. He pulls your hand off of him, tugging you to the very edge of the counter by your thighs and lining himself up with your cunt.

You’re both panting, watching closely as he nudges your folds with the thick head of his cock. You bite into your lip to conceal a whimper.

You gasp together when his tip pushes inside you. Even just this much causes a small ache to start sprouting deep in your stomach, but even that slight pain is the most pleasant thing you’ve ever felt.

“Varka,” you cry, putting your hands on his shoulders. 

He’s intently staring at where he’s barely pressed inside of you, his cock twitching in anticipation and his swollen lips slightly parted in pleasure.

You lift your hips, trying to urge him deeper, but his hand snaps to your hip before you get the chance.

“A bit more,” you murmur.

Varka inhales sharply. “I can’t—”

“Just a bit, let me feel you.”

He grunts, staying still for a beat before finally pressing another inch of his cock inside of you.

Maybe it’s the way you moan his name, or how your pussy clenches around him, tirelessly trying to tug him in deeper, but Varka snaps.

“I can’t.” He breathes out, bracing both his hands on your hips. “I can’t. I need—”

“It’s okay,” You assure him swiftly, and you drop back to hold yourself up on your forearms. “Take it, Varka. Take—”

He bottoms out in one quick thrust.

You scream, your back hitting the counter as the wonderful swirl of pleasure and pain makes your body entirely succumb to him.

“I’m sorry,” he says, but it barely sounds apologetic as he starts to thrust in and out of you at a quick pace. 

All you can do it take it, arching your back to accommodate him as he fucks you with everything he has. His hips slam against yours with enough force to bruise, and you just sputter out incomprehensible pleas for more. You squeeze and gush around him, making him groan your name.

He bottoms out with each thrust, making sure you feel every single inch of him dragging against your inner walls. He pulls the most beautiful of noises from your chest, each one fuelling him to pound into you with even more force.

“Good girl—So good.” He huffs, voice hoarse, but you barely hear him as you make the shift from alcohol drunk to cock drunk as he drives into you over and over again. He’s filling you up so good, pinning your hips to the counter to keep you in place as he gives you exactly what you were begging for.

Varka grunts, retracting one of his hands to start rubbing your clit as he keeps fucking in and out of you with brutal force.

“Varka!” You squeal, trying to snap your legs shut, but his body planted between your thighs keeps you wide open for him.

He laughs lowly, trailing off into a raspy moan. “Now you want to run?”

“No, no, don’t stop!” You arch your neck, one of your hands flying down to rest on his lower stomach, pushing even though you have no real desire to keep him out. “Varka, I’m so close…”

“Go on,” he encourages, hitting the perfect spot inside of you that makes you slur his name. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

At his command, you cry out and come undone around his cock. He keeps pumping inside of you for a few more strokes before pulling out with a groan, jerking himself off until he spills onto the front of your shirt.

You breathe heavily, going limp against your kitchen counter. Varka tenderly reaches under the hem of your shirt, carefully helping you strip it while he shushes your exhausted, hazy whines. If you were tired leaving the bar, there aren’t words for how spent you feel now.

“Did I hurt you?” He asks, guilt coating his voice like he’s coming out of whatever state he entered when he fucked you. “Fuck—”

“No, no.” You whisper, sitting up. You cup his face with two hands, fighting through your exhaustion to kiss him, and this time, he returns it gently, his arms fully encircling your naked body. You pull back just enough to see his face. “Will you stay?”

He grins, his nose brushing against yours. “Yeah, I’ll stay.”

“I saw you getting a little carried away,” Varka manages a laugh, despite the fact he also pushed the limits of his impressive tolerance enough to feel like he’s balancing on one foot. “Here, let me walk you home.”

You peer up at him, contemplating. His blonde hair is a mess, sticking up in all different directions, and his face is flushed from the alcohol. His heavy jacket seems to have been discarded somewhere inside the pub, like he was in a rush to get out.

Did he follow you?

You blink. He probably just wanted to make sure you were okay. I mean, ever since you first arrived in Mondstadt, the Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius was one of the first to offer you a warm welcome. He had just returned from his expedition in Nod Krai, and after all the time he spent away, you coined it as him being excited to introduce someone new to a place he loved so dearly. His home, which was slowly becoming yours, as well.

He would always rush you to join him for a drink, train with him, anything that kept you close.

It would be a lie to say you didn’t develop quite the liking for him. Everything about him was magnetic to the most literal definition of the word. He drew people in as a natural consequence of being himself, people like you especially.

Who would you be to say no?

“Alright,” you agree. “Do you remember—”

“Yeah, I know where your place is. Come on, then.”

He comes up beside you, placing his hand on your lower back to guide you away from the pub, the celebration inside still roaring with life. The touch of his rough fingertips against the soft skin your shirt exposes spreads a warmth all the way from the top of your head to the tips of your toes, but you feel it most prominently in your lower stomach.

“Thank you.” You breathe out, grabbing the side of his shirt to help yourself balance.

He chuckles lowly. “No need to thank me. Protecting you is my job.”

You look up at him. “Your job, huh?”

“I…” He laughs again. “As Grand Master, I mean. It’s my job to protect everyone in Mondstadt.”

You nod, and the motion makes you feel like there’s an angry ocean storming in your skull. You can't recall the last time you drank so much. “Right.”

He readjusts his hand, his thumb slipping just below the hem of your shirt. You bite your lip, leaning against him for support as a hazy feeling weakens your limbs. You urge to press your thighs together, just the presence of him in combination with your alcohol-induced state making the softest of touches feel euphoric.

His own next breath is noticeably more nervous than the ones before, and he has to move his hand to the sensitive nerves on your waist to keep you steady. 

“Varka…” You push against him again.

He doesn’t say anything.

Soon enough he’s guiding you up the steps of your porch, and you’re unlocking the front door with unsteady hands while he leans against the railing. You glance at him. His chest rises and falls quickly, and he keeps his eyes low like he’s struggling to look at you. Something is on his mind.

“Those last few drinks setting in?” You croak, getting the door open and pushing it forward, the cold air from inside the house hitting your skin.

“Uh—” His eyes snap to yours. “Must be.”

“Come inside for a minute,” you offer, and just hearing the invite spill from your own lips feeds into the arousal already settling in your body from his touch. “Have some water before you walk back. It'll help.”

He considers it, biting his lip. “I appreciate it, but I shouldn’t.” He shakes his head. “Someone else might need a hand…”

“It’ll be fine for a minute,” you push, and Varka’s light blue eyes, half-lidded from intoxication and something else, stay locked on you. “I insist.”

He sighs, nodding slowly in surrender. “Alright. Just for a moment.”

You’re quick to step inside your small but cozy home, Varka following closely, his footsteps heavy against the floorboards. He lets the door fall closed behind him. The only light comes from a dim lamp on the kitchen counter, and you don’t bother with flicking any others on as you hurry over and grab a bottle from your fridge. Your head pounds, begging for a moment of rest, but the rest of your body begs for something else much louder.

Varka meets you in the barely spacious room. When he gets close enough, you can feel his warmth spreading through the chill of the room. 

“Here.” You hand him the water.

Your wonky world manages to center as you watch his large hand unscrew the cap. You roll your bottom lip into your mouth subconsciously, studying the way his biceps flex as he lifts his arm, the way he holds the rim of the bottle just above his mouth, the way his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows…

Varka doesn’t miss the way you throw one leg over the other and clench your thighs, or the way your eyebrows pinch together when you do.

He certainly doesn’t miss the way your eyes stay on him the whole time.

He steps towards you, and just when you think his chest is going to press against yours, he stops. He reaches past you, putting the bottle on the wide kitchen counter you lean against.

“Thank you.”

Your eyes wander as you mumble something that can barely be discerned as a you’re welcome. His shirt is tight around his rigid body, but it’s nothing compared to the way his pants contain a noticeable bulge.

You whisper his name, and it comes out sounding like a plea.

Varka clears his throat. “I should go now.”

You say his name again, your hands reaching out to clutch the sides of his shirt.

This time it’s him saying your name, but instead of a plea, it’s a warning.

You ignore it.

You tug him closer, and only his sheer strength and finely honed self control stops his body from pressing against yours. You look up at him, eyes glossed over with need, hands sliding to his hips.

“I know you followed me out of the pub.” You rasp, one hand trailing up his chest. Varka’s breath hitches, and he braces a palm against the counter right beside your body. 

“I told you,” he whispers, “I saw that you drank too much. I needed to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m not the only one who drank too much, Varka.” Your hand continues its exploration, tangling up in his hair and tugging, forcing him to keep looking at you. Even in your drunken state, he looks beautiful. “You’ve barely been staying upright yourself. You think I haven't noticed?"

His jaw clenches.

“Stay,” you beg, pulling his head down further. “Just for a little longer.”

He swallows. “You’re—”

You press your mouth to his, effectively cutting him off. Both your hands are in his hair now, holding him close. He stills, everything from his movement to his breathing, and right when you think it might be better to pull away and let him leave, his hand is on your hip.

He kisses you back hungrily. His large form pins you to the counter, and when you struggle to grind your needy core against his bulge, he hoists you onto the surface. You lock your legs around his waist, your skirt hiking up, moaning in his mouth at the first real feeling of pleasure when the tent in his slacks rubs against your clit through the thin fabric of your underwear.

“Varka,” you whine. 

He swallows the sound, one of his palms cupping your face as he eagerly presses his tongue past your lips.

“Two minutes,” he mumbles.

You nod in agreement. Two minutes of this, and then he goes back to the pub.

You slide your tongue over his, tasting the regular booze on his breath. It’s addictive, and you yearn to get even more drunk than you already are on nothing but him. 

Varka’s hand closes around your hip to help you along, rolling your hips against his. Your desperate sounds are drowned out by each other’s lips, nothing but the lewd noises of your mouths and rustling fabric filling the otherwise dead silent house.

You throw your head back to breathe, which Varka takes as an invitation to start kissing and sucking at your neck. You tug at his nape, rocking your hips, feeling the way your arousal is soaking through your underwear. You wonder if he can feel how wet you are for him, if there’s a damp spot forming on the front of his pants from you desperately dry humping his clothed cock.

The alcohol makes every small bit of stimulation feel more intense, but your body still begs for something more.

“I need more,” you whine. “Just a little more… A few more minutes, Varka, please.”

He growls against the warm skin of your neck. “Two more minutes.”

His hand dips between your bodies, hooking two fingers in the hem of your underwear and pulling them down your thighs, just enough to expose you under your skirt. You moan in anticipation, bracing one hand on the cold counter top behind you and keeping the other slung over his shoulders.

The pads of his fingers find your clit, and the sound that emerges from deep in your chest is one of utter relief. He starts to draw slow circles, pulling his head out of the crook of your neck to watch the pretty faces his movements elicit. 

“Is this good?” He asks hoarsely, his forehead pressing against yours as he begins to rub your clit faster.

“Yes, oh Gods, Varka!” You close your fist in his hair, head tilting back. “Ah… Please don’t stop.”

He suddenly pulls away. Right when you think he’s honouring his word and your two minutes are up, his digits are replaced with his thumb, and he’s instead nudging your fluttering hole with the pads of his fingers.

“Oh. Yes, Varka…”

He grunts, capturing your lips again as he sinks two fingers inside of your cunt.

You whimper against his mouth, rolling your hips onto his hand greedily. He fills you to the second knuckle, still circling your clit with his thumb. The overload of sensations makes you feel like you’re ascending to a different realm. The pleasure coiling in your lower stomach, the smell of him, the taste, everything.

He drags his fingers across all the right places inside of you, curling them against spots that make you see stars.

Varka groans at the way you clench around his fingers, flicking his wrist with more vigour. “Taking good care of you, am I?”

The pleasure binds tighter, your toes curling, knees squeezing his hips. “Yes, yes, sir.”

“Oh—Fuck.” He steadies your hips, forcing you to stay still as he tips you over the edge. You cry out, back arching and eyes squeezing shut as stars appear in the void. You chant his name like a prayer, and he works you through the orgasm eagerly.

His hand retreats from between your legs once you start to come down.

You whine, sitting up properly and grabbing at his shirt. Your mind couldn't be more fogged thanks to the alcohol and recent orgasm, but you still hold him tightly. “No, don’t go.”

His sighs your name, shaking his head like he already knows he’s lost whatever game you’re playing with him.

“I’m supposed to—”

You reach down to palm his bulge, and he groans out through gritted teeth.

“Two more minutes,” you say, kicking your panties the rest of the way off. “I want to feel you, Varka.”

His eyes meet yours, and the look he’s giving you is the kind of dangerous that has you dripping on the counter below you.

“I’m not asking you to fuck me,” You plead, starting to unbuckle his belt with haste. “Just want to feel you for a second.”

He warns you by saying your name firmly, the authoritative tone making you feel weak.

“Just a little, Varka. Just for a second.”

He doesn’t make any moves to stop you when you pull his belt out of the loops and toss it aside. You unbutton and unzip his slacks, pulling them and his boxers down just enough to let his cock spring out.

The size of him is immediately intimidating, but you ignore it and take the base of him in your palm.

Varka grips the counter with both hands, caging you in, fists turning white.

“Just a little, okay?” You meet his eyes.

His gaze flickers between your face and his cock in your hand.

“Just a little,” he agrees, voice thick with arousal. He pulls your hand off of him, tugging you to the very edge of the counter by your thighs and lining himself up with your cunt.

You’re both panting, watching closely as he nudges your folds with the thick head of his cock. You bite into your lip to conceal a whimper.

You gasp together when his tip pushes inside you. Even just this much causes a small ache to start sprouting deep in your stomach, but even that slight pain is the most pleasant thing you’ve ever felt.

“Varka,” you cry, putting your hands on his shoulders. 

He’s intently staring at where he’s barely pressed inside of you, his cock twitching in anticipation and his swollen lips slightly parted in pleasure.

You lift your hips, trying to urge him deeper, but his hand snaps to your hip before you get the chance.

“A bit more,” you murmur.

Varka inhales sharply. “I can’t—”

“Just a bit, let me feel you.”

He grunts, staying still for a beat before finally pressing another inch of his cock inside of you.

Maybe it’s the way you moan his name, or how your pussy clenches around him, tirelessly trying to tug him in deeper, but Varka snaps.

“I can’t.” He breathes out, bracing both his hands on your hips. “I can’t. I need—”

“It’s okay,” You assure him swiftly, and you drop back to hold yourself up on your forearms. “Take it, Varka. Take—”

He bottoms out in one quick thrust.

You scream, your back hitting the counter as the wonderful swirl of pleasure and pain makes your body entirely succumb to him.

“I’m sorry,” he says, but it barely sounds apologetic as he starts to thrust in and out of you at a quick pace. 

All you can do it take it, arching your back to accommodate him as he fucks you with everything he has. His hips slam against yours with enough force to bruise, and you just sputter out incomprehensible pleas for more. You squeeze and gush around him, making him groan your name.

He bottoms out with each thrust, making sure you feel every single inch of him dragging against your inner walls. He pulls the most beautiful of noises from your chest, each one fuelling him to pound into you with even more force.

“Good girl—So good.” He huffs, voice hoarse, but you barely hear him as you make the shift from alcohol drunk to cock drunk as he drives into you over and over again. He’s filling you up so good, pinning your hips to the counter to keep you in place as he gives you exactly what you were begging for.

Varka grunts, retracting one of his hands to start rubbing your clit as he keeps fucking in and out of you with brutal force.

“Varka!” You squeal, trying to snap your legs shut, but his body planted between your thighs keeps you wide open for him.

He laughs lowly, trailing off into a raspy moan. “Now you want to run?”

“No, no, don’t stop!” You arch your neck, one of your hands flying down to rest on his lower stomach, pushing even though you have no real desire to keep him out. “Varka, I’m so close…”

“Go on,” he encourages, hitting the perfect spot inside of you that makes you slur his name. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

At his command, you cry out and come undone around his cock. He keeps pumping inside of you for a few more strokes before pulling out with a groan, jerking himself off until he spills onto the front of your shirt.

You breathe heavily, going limp against your kitchen counter. Varka tenderly reaches under the hem of your shirt, carefully helping you strip it while he shushes your exhausted, hazy whines. If you were tired leaving the bar, there aren’t words for how spent you feel now.

“Did I hurt you?” He asks, guilt coating his voice like he’s coming out of whatever state he entered when he fucked you. “Fuck—”

“No, no.” You whisper, sitting up. You cup his face with two hands, fighting through your exhaustion to kiss him, and this time, he returns it gently, his arms fully encircling your naked body. You pull back just enough to see his face. “Will you stay?”

He grins, his nose brushing against yours. “Yeah, I’ll stay.”