Dalliou

"Is that really all you can offer, Sylus?" You mocked him, crossing your arms over your chest as you eyed him, challenging him.

The other man remained unfazed by your disinterest; he's grown used to your insatiable nature. You always needed more, more, and more, didn't you? "If you are not satisfied with what I can offer, then what else can I give you, [Y/N]?"

Your expression morphed into something more mischievous. Resting your chin atop your closed fist, you held your other hand out before you proposed something you knew Sylus would happily accept. "If you truly desire this information on the girl, Sylus... then prove to me just how far you'd go for it."

Sporting a Cheshire grin, you leaned back against your chair and once more crossed your arms. "How desperate are you, I wonder... to know more about her?"

Sylus' expression faltered, and he let out a sharp breath. He contemplated your words; he already knew what you were implying. He, of all people, had seen the things your other clients had done to have your precious information, and this wouldn't be the first time he'd had to prove to you the lengths he'd go for vital intel.

With an air of certainty, he stood up and approached you, walking behind your desk to stand right in front of you. "Fine, since you want me to prove how far I'll go, why don't we get somewhere more comfortable?"

"Hmm?... no, I'd prefer we keep business strictly in my office, Sylus."

The man smiled, eyes narrowing, "Ah, yes, of course." He leaned down, face now close to yours. Before he laid a hand on you, though, he had to ask first. "May I?"

Being the ever-so-teasing man, you only raised a brow, faking obliviousness, "What ever do you mean?"

Sylus smiled wider, "May I touch you. Show you my means to have the information I so desperately need."

"Hm..." you hummed in amusement. Sylus was playing his part well; you loved how he was still so cocky. "Alright, go on then. Show me."

Moments later, Sylus acted without shame. He knelt before you and spread your legs, moving so he sat comfortably between them. You could see his eyes practically glinting with hunger now. Honestly, you weren't sure if he was doing this for the information or to get back at you for your constant teasing. He unbuttoned your pants and took your zipper between his teeth, pulling down sensually while keeping his gaze locked on yours, ruby-red eyes piercing back at you. At the same time, his hands slid under your top, the coldness of his hands only serving to turn you on ever more, your arousal made apparent by your growing erection.

Sylus pressed his face against your bulge, sniffing quite audibly.

"Oho... shameless man." You bit your lip, cock twitching beneath the barrier of cloth.

"I'm only proving a point, [Y/N]," he then dragged down your boxers using his teeth again, just enough to free your cock. His hands on your smooth stomach traveled upwards, now resting on your sides.

A gentle sigh came from your lips as you closed your eyes, "You always know how to please me, don't you, Sylus?"

"Of course..." Sylus turned and nudged your semi-hard cock with his nose, tongue out to lap at your balls. "How else would I keep this feisty kitten wrapped around my finger?" he mumbled against your length, only serving to fuel your insatiable desire.

Sylus brought his hands back down, their cold touch lingering on your warm skin. He took your cock gently and started stroking, nice and slow. Meanwhile, his skilled mouth continued its ministrations on your balls all the way to your base, coating your cock in his saliva. It didn't take long before you had your head thrown back against your office chair, mouth left open, and spewing out breathy moans and gasps. he hadn't even fully undressed either of you yet.

He moved from your base and further south. His hands left your length and held your hips, gently pulling you so you were slouching against your chair. He tugged your pants down along with your underwear. Your eyes managed to flutter open, watching him with a playful smile still on your lips. Who knew what he'd do later, but you could only feel more aroused at the possibilities. 

You were left in nothing but your top now, Sylus lifting your legs for a better view of your newly exposed nether regions. He put one leg onto his shoulder and held the other with one hand. Your cock visibly twitched when his face drew near, but he wasn't heading for your cock, he was heading for your puckered hole, it was gaped just slightly from frequent use. He pressed his face against it, lips pressed right against the sensitive opening.

"Nggahhh..." You moaned out, hands coming down to tug at Sylus' silver locks.

He groans at the tugging, messily sucking, and pressing his tongue inside you.

"Fuck—yes..." Once more, your eyes fell shut, the grip on Sylus' hair only tightened with each careful lick. His tongue was long enough to reach all the right places; the lewd sounds of slurping began to fill the quiet office, accompanying your meek little breathless whimpering.

Sylus repeatedly tongue-fucked you then and there, his wet appendage sliding in adn out and in and out, stimulating your already sensitive anus. Your head fell to the side, mouth left agape as constant please for more continued to escape you. You were already a mess and Sylus didn't even need to get naked, you blamed it on your sensitivity.

Sylus could feel your hole practically spasming around him, he pulls away before you can cum. You almost tug him back, but he meets your eyes and gives you a reassuring smile, "Let's change positions, shall we?" He spoke, low and commanding, but both of you knew who really had a say in this situation.

You huff and close your legs as Sylus stands up. "Fine..." You purse your lips, and without further instruction, you sat yourself on your desk, uncaring of the many papers scattered on it—you had multiple copies anyway. With a cheeky grin, you discarded the last of your clothing and lay back, showing off your body to the man before you.

Sylus, meanwhile, was also busy taking off his clothes as well, but as he finished, his eyes fell on your body, fully naked, legs spread, and your damned ass pussy practically winking at him; he couldn't hold back for much longer.

"Do you enjoy teasing me this much, [Y/N]...?" He asked as he approached you, taking his place between your legs once more.

You grinned as you heard his silly question, "What do you think, Sylus?" 

"I think you're an insolent man who wants nothing more than to be used," he leaned down and took your face, squishing your cheeks with his large hand. 

You giggle, raising a brow in curiosity, "Maybe you're right... maybe all I want is for men like you to use my body in exchange for the information you seek."

"Then who am I not to give you what you want?" His hand left your face and once again gripped your hips harshly. He positioned himself, letting his girthy tip and your needy cunt meet but not putting applying the needed pressure to penetrate you. You can't help but whine, you were already sensitive enough from Sylus' earlier ministrations.

“Yo— ahh!” Your head falls back again with a small thud, mouth falling open once more as Sylus essentially slams himself in, uncaring of your underprepared hole. “Mmnhh…” a whimper left your lips as Sylus started moving immediately after, the grip on your hips tightening as he pounds you silly. 

Your mind’s practically mush now, back arched in pleasure. The burn you felt from being stretched around such a large cock was enough to make you cum, but you held off, “Sylus… mmn…” 

The man looked down at you, at your messy, fucked out expression, he smirked and reached out, cupping your cheek while he kept thrusting harshly, your desk sturdy and managing to stay put somehow. You leaned against his calloused hand, closing your eyes. 

“Look at you, you’re falling apart just from a few thrusts, hm?”

”Mmnhh…” you could only respond with a whimper, Sylus now digging deeper. You could feel his veiny cock constantly pressing against your prostate, making your mind go blank. “Fast— faster…” 

“Faster?” Sylus laughed, pulling his hand away and gripping your hips again, “If you insist.” 

He does as you ask and quickens his pace, his balls slapping against your ass with each harsh slam. He leans down and nuzzles his face into your neck, inhaling the scent of your cologne, “Mm… [Y/N], fuck,” he opens his mouth and sinks his teeth into your shoulder.

You cry out loudly, cumming from the electric pleasure of the bite. Sylus chuckles and sinks his teeth deeper until he draws blood, essentially marking you. You can feel blood sliding down your shoulder; it makes you shudder. Sylus maintains his thrusts, lifting your hips up higher as he pulls away from you. His eyes linger on the bleeding bite mark he left, a satisfied smile on his lips.

Before you could even comment, he pulled out just until his tip and slid in deeper, making you short-circuit again as you let out a gasp. "Fuh... ahhh...!"

Sylus' cock twitchies inside you, his thrusts growing sloppier as a sign of his impending release. You can feel yours building up as well. You whimper as Sylus suddenly takes hold of your cock and strokes you, calloused hand making the sensation ten times more pleasurable. 

"Hah! Wait—" you try to reach for his hand but he drops your hips and takes your wrist, now looming above you as he pins your arms above you. 

"You wanna cum, [Y/N]?" He whispers in your ear.

You whimper at the question and nod your head, "Please..." you moan softly as Sylus starts thrusting and stroking your cock faster. As he does so, you can't help but squirm under him, the feeling of your climax approaching overwhelming your mind and body.

Before you could even process, you were cumming for the second time, smearing your and Sylus' stomachs white and sticky. 

Sylus lets go of your hands and raises your hips once more, his thrusts going even faster than before as he chases his own orgasm. You cry out at the overstimulation, hands flying to grip at Sylus' back, your nails digging into his skin and drawing blood as you scratch him up. 

"Ah! Sylus— fuck! Fuck!—" 

Sylus huffs and leans down, sealing your lips with a hungry kiss as he finally slams all the way in again and bursts his load within you, coating your red, velvetty walls white the same as your stomachs'.

As the two of you pull away to catch your breath, you grind back against his cock, really taking in the size that was inside you. You can feel Sylus' cum leaking out of you, most probably staining the papers below you. Sylus groans and buries his face into your neck, his hot breath sending pleasant shivers down your spine. 

You clear your throat and turn your head before you whisper in his ear what he so desperately wanted to hear. "Her name is MC... she plans on entering the N109 Zone by acting as bait."

"I see..." Sylus hums, sinking his teeth into your neck this time.

"Ah..." your voice draws out a moan, just like before Sylus' bite pierces your flesh and makes you bleed.

"Now how in the world am I going to hide that, hm?" You chuckled.

"Don't." Sylus mumbles against you.

Dating Peter Parker will never be easy, even before you knew he was Spider-man. Before that you just had to deal with a boyfriend who seemed always on edge, lonely and unsure about a lot of things. 

After everything that’s happened, accepting another person’s love would be very hard for Peter. Especially because he’d still have MJ in the back of his mind, in the beginning anyways. 

There's also the fear that you would end up getting hurt because of him, you know? But through determination your part, and the fact that you two kept bumping into each other, something real starts growing. 

It takes a while for Peter to tell you his secret identity. A part of him is terrified about it, because of what happened last time someone knew his secret identity. 

Knowing Peter, you figuring out the truth was an accident. Like Peter swooping in as spider-man and saving you from a villain, and you immediately clock is voice and how he holds you just like your boyfriend. 

And well, after that the can of worms is open. You would be mad about the secret, but also understand, ya know? A part of you also can’t stop giggling at the fact that you’re dating THE spider-man. 

I mean, he’s New Yorks one and only spider-man, how can you not start kicking your feet and giggling like a schoolgirl.  

Insert Peter trying to give you a spider-man kiss and you just start giggling and covering your face because omg that’s spider-man and he wants to kiss you. 

After Brand New day, with everything with Jean, with Frank and Peter almost dying, there’s a new peace over your boyfriend. He's always tried to carry himself with self-assurance and confidence, but it finally feels real. 

And well, you also kinda find his more spidery acts kinda hot. 

You almost lose your brain the first time Peter gets extra predatory. Maybe he’s been in a bit of a mood, and you decide to tease him, only to turn and try to run away to be a little brat about it. 

Only for Peter to snatch you right back with his webs and pin you against his desk, barring his teeth and little out a little hiss. You swear his eyes even flash black for a moment. 

Poor Peter starts apologizing like crazy when he catches himself, only for you to be like “I’ve never been this hard in all my life” cuz holy shit. 

Dating Spider-man means a lot of things, it means date nights swinging through New York, it means lying draped over a couch as Peter works on his suit and tech, it means dates cancelled last minute because Rhino got out again, which always results in Spidey showing up at your apartment full of apologies. 

But it also means being woken up in the middle of the night by the sound of your window sliding open. 

Dating New Yorks hero means you’ve been taught self-defense from both Peter and Frank, cuz that guy cares about Peter like a broody overprotective chicken. So yeah, maybe you freak out a bit. 

Until you wake up enough to realize, oh shit, it’s just Peter. And then it hits you, oh shit, it’s Peter. 

You've been extra anxious since his near-death experience, especially with him only surviving thanks to Jean, so you do start sweating when you see how bloody and beat up he is. 

Had it been any other time, you may have found his ripped up suit pretty hot, but he looks pretty bad. 

Our lovely Peter will know you’re freaking out, and of course try to talk you down again. That he’s fine, mostly fine, and didn’t mean to wake you up. 

The fool might even ask about your day as he’s slumped on your floor, holding his bleeding side, giving you a bloody but goofy grin. 

it takes some maneuvering and the training Frank gave you to drag your spidery hunk to the bathroom, but you get it done, only bumping him into a doorway once. 

The whole time Peter tries to keep the conversation going, acting all casual like he’s not leaving blood stains all over your floor. 

Somehow you get him sitting on your closed toilet so you can wrench the torn up suit off him, at least down to his hips, so you can start patching him up. 

And Peter, well, he’s all spider hormones and hot-blooded man, starts letting out little spidery noises and tapping his foot, like some kind of spidery courting display. 

It's not his fault that he thinks it’s really hot that you can manhandle him, it’s just in his DNA, okay? Plus, he just loves you, a lot, and his brain is kinda scrambled from the pain and fighting. 

You end up kinda having to just shove his face away when Peter tries to get kisses, because you’re trying to stitch his side up damnit. But peter just wants nuzzles and kisses and to bite you a little bit. 

And hey, maybe you can use his spider behavior against him. Give him a quick but hard bite, kinda like a corrective nip, and Peter settles down, for a bit. Expect his eyes to flicker black for a bit though. 

Peter’s a real champ about pain, he has to be with what he does, so he sits still for most of your care, even as he jokes about you using too many bandages, because he’s just gonna heal anyways. 

I do think Peter likes to cuddle after getting hurt, like, burrowing in bed, curled up under a lot of blankets and holding on to you. Even better if you start running your hands through his hair. 

He gets extra cuddly after times like these, especially as the adrenaline wears out, because it always seems to hit him that he could have lost you. Or rather, you could have lost him, and Peter wouldn’t want that to happen. 

Expect a lot of small kisses all over your face and neck, as well as his hands running up and down your back before he nuzzles into your chest. Hell, he might press his ear against it so he can listen to your heart, because why not. 

Honestly, Peter only sleeps good when it’s with you, so even when he’s all banged up, Peter conks out real quick when he’s with you. 

Just watch out, cuz Peter feels like the kinda guy who twitches and jolts in his sleep, as well as mumbling and talking in his sleep. It’s kinda freaky sometimes. 

​Solanaceae. The air there didn't hold the familiar, comforting scent of damp earth or rain; instead, it was thick with the cloying, heavy aroma of night-blooming jasmine and crushed nectar. It was a strange, disorienting world caught in an eternal, suffocating twilight—bathed entirely in the eerie, violet luminescence of a dying sun that fed an aggressive, hyper-evolved sea of flora.

​Here, plants didn't just grow. They breathed. They pulsed with a slow, rhythmic heartbeat that vibrated through the soil. If you listened closely enough in the quiet spaces between the alien gales, you could hear them whispering in frequencies just below the threshold of human hearing—a living, breathing green consciousness stretching out across continents.

​Clark had long since formed a mental image of its beauty before he even set foot onto the planet's surface. Kara had spoken of it time and time again during their quiet moments at the Fortress, her eyes lighting up as she described its sprawling alien vistas and untamed wilderness.

​Kara, however, had somehow managed to forget a rather crucial detail: just how fiercely alluring Solanaceae's flora truly was. It wasn't just scenery; it was a siren song. Vibrant, aggressively brightly colored, and wrapped in a pheromonal scent so potent and intoxicating it felt capable of hypnotizing anyone foolish enough to drop their guard.

​Drifting silently across the surface of the bioluminescent waters were fields of lotus flowers—or at least, what Clark could only assume were the planet’s evolutionary equivalents. They covered nearly every inch of the glowing liquid, their petals shifting through impossible gradients of magenta and deep indigo.

​Clark found himself completely transfixed, unable to tear his eyes away from their mesmerizing dance upon the water. It felt as though an invisible tether was pulling him inward, dragging his consciousness toward the center of the bloom. And the very second he leaned in too close, misjudging the distance, the flower’s center shuddered. With a soft, mechanical hiss, it blew a thick, dense puff of hazy purple pollen directly into his face.

​He blinked, pulling back quickly, offering a quiet, self-reassuring sigh. Clark initially assumed earth's yellow sun would effortlessly wash away whatever foreign side effects were bound to enter his body, confident that his Kryptonian physiology would naturally recognize, fight off, and override any alien spores.

​By the time Clark touched down on the balcony of his Metropolis apartment, the yellow sun felt less like a battery and more like a magnifying glass burning through glass.

​He pulled off his damp suitt, the heavy red cape pooling behind him like a discarded weight. The city below hummed with its usual symphony of honking cabs, distant sirens, and the endless chatter of millions of heartbeats. Normally, that familiar chorus grounded him. Tonight, every sound scraped against his eardrums like sandpaper.

​While the pollen had seemed harmless at first, he started to notice the building fever, the way his flesh would flush and sweat would glisten against his skin. The building ache in his body that slowly spread to weakness in his knees.

​He staggered against the kitchen counter, his broad shoulders heaving as he tried to draw in a steady breath. But the air of Metropolis tasted stale, stripped of life, entirely devoid of the rich, chlorophyll-heavy vitality his altered biology suddenly craved.

​His vision swam, the edges of the room tinting a deep, bruised violet. Beneath his skin, his blood felt sluggish, humming with an alien frequency that echoed the heartbeat of Solanaceae. The pollen wasn't just a toxin; it was a catalyst. It was rewriting how his cells interacted with organic matter, turning his invulnerable body into fertile soil for something ancient and hungry.

​"Damn it," Clark muttered, his voice rough and breathless, lacking its usual steady baritone. He gripped the edge of the marble counter so hard the stone groaned under his fingertips.

​He knew brute force wouldn't fix this. His immune system wasn't fighting an infection; it was cooperating with one. And there was only one person on this entire green earth—or any other—who understood the intricate, terrifying language of botanical biology well enough to pull him back from the edge.

The glass doors of the loft slid open with a soft click, admitting a wave of humid, earth-scented air that contrasted sharply with the crisp Metropolis night.

You didn't even look up from the sprawling monstera you were pruning, your skin—completely verdant, a striking, vibrant green that looked as though it had been spun from chlorophyll and sunlight rather than ordinary flesh, yet possessed a remarkably soft, naturally earthy appearance—expertly snipping a rogue leaf. Dressed in fitted charcoal trousers and an unbuttoned emerald silk shirt that clung effortlessly to your lean frame, you moved with a quiet, predatory grace. Your hair fell loosely over your forehead, catching the amber glow of the grow lamps overhead.

"You're tracking cosmic dirt across my polished concrete, farm boy," you murmured, your voice a smooth, melodic purr that carried easily over the rustle of exotic ferns. "And judging by the way your heart is hammering against your ribs, you didn't just visit a garden center."

Clark didn't answer right away. He couldn't. He stepped further into the greenhouse, the heavy door sliding shut behind him, sealing them in an ecosystem of your own design. The sheer density of plant life—vines curling lazily around steel support beams, pitcher plants weeping sweet nectar, orchids blooming in shades of bruised plum—seemed to lean toward him as he passed, drawn by the alien spores radiating from his pores.

You finally turned, your deep eyes narrowing slightly as you took in the flushed expanse of his chest, the slick sheen of sweat coating his skin, and the distinct, unnatural violet shimmer tracing the veins along his neck.

"Solanaceae," you stated, dropping your pruning shears onto the potting table with a sharp clatter. A slow, knowing smile curved your lips, equal parts amused and fascinated. "Let me guess. You tried to smell the local flora, and it bit back."

"It wasn't a bite," Clark groaned, his knees finally buckling as the weight of the fever crashed over him. He caught himself against the edge of a mahogany worktable, scattering seed packets and glass vials across the floor. "It... it feels like my blood is turning to sap. The sun... it isn't helping."

You crossed the room in a few fluid strides, your bare feet making no sound against the damp moss carpeting the floor. Stopping just inches away, you tilted your head up, drinking in the scent rolling off him. Beneath the familiar ozone of a Kryptonian, there was an unmistakable, intoxicating fragrance—night-blooming jasmine, crushed nectar, and deep space wilderness, tangled with the unmistakable, heavy warmth of a potent botanical aphrodisiac.

"Of course it isn't," you whispered softly, stepping closer until the heat radiating from his broad frame washed over you. You reached out, your cool fingertips brushing lightly against his burning jawline. Clark let out a sharp, involuntary shudder at the contrast, his breath hitching as a sudden, overwhelming wave of clarity crashed through the haze in his mind.

The pollen wasn't just rewriting his biology; it was tearing down every wall he had ever built. The polite distance, the careful restraint, the years of burying every lingering, complicated glance he had ever stolen in your direction—the illusion dissolved entirely under the influence of the toxin. The way he looked at you shifted from desperation to a profound, undeniable hunger, every hidden desire suddenly laid bare in his wide, fevered eyes.

"You didn't just catch a space cold, Clark," you murmured, your voice dropping to a low, hypnotic hum as you felt the sudden, electric shift in his posture. "That pollen is trying to integrate. It recognizes a god-like vessel... and it wants to make a home out of you. Or perhaps, it's just stripping away all your pretty little lies."

"Can you... can you stop it?" Clark asked, though his voice lacked any real conviction. He looked down at you, his blue eyes glassy, dark with a mix of fever and a raw, exposed longing that made your own pulse quicken.

You let out a low, melodic laugh, sliding your hand down from his jaw to rest flat against the center of his chest, right where his erratic heartbeat thudded like a heavy drum against your palm.

"Stop it?" You whispered, leaning in close enough that your breath ghosted against his collarbone, smelling faintly of crushed ivy and rain. "Clark... I spent my entire life trying to make the world green. Why on earth would I want to cure something that finally makes you admit what you've wanted all along?"

Clark swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing sharply against the flushed skin of his throat as he tried to summon the familiar armor of his usual restraint. He dragged a heavy hand through his damp, dark curls, his chest heaving under the sheer strain of keeping his composure.

"I... I don't know what you're talking about," Clark breathed out, his voice carrying that earnest, earnest-to-a-fault earnestness that felt so uniquely, achingly him. Even with his knees trembling and his vision swimming with violet haze, he still tried to pull back, leaning away by a fraction of an inch as if pure willpower could override biology. "I’m fine. Really. I just... I need to get back to the Fortress, or—or talk to Emil. This is just a localized reaction, it's—"

"Shh," you murmured, the sound soft but utterly immovable.

You didn't let him finish the clumsy, defensive excuse. Instead, your hands—cool and firm against the fever-slick heat of his skin—slid from his jaw down to grip his forearms. Despite his godlike strength, Clark didn't pull away; the profound, caring ache in his chest made him yield entirely to your touch. His broad shoulders slumped, a ragged sigh shuddering past his lips as the fight drained right out of him.

"You're rambling, farm boy," you whispered, a gentle, fond edge softening the teasing curve of your green lips. "And you're shaking. Let's get you sitting before you accidentally put that broad frame of yours through my prize-winning monstera."

With a quiet grunt of effort—less from your own strength and more from guiding his dead weight—you wrapped an arm securely around his waist, pressing your verdant side against his burning heat. Clark let out a low, breathy groan, his large hands coming up instinctively to rest lightly on your shoulders, steadying himself not just to keep from falling, but because the mere contact felt like a lifeline in a storm.

You guided him across the moss-carpeted floor of the greenhouse toward a sturdy, vintage wrought-iron armchair nestled deep among a canopy of weeping ferns and cascading ivy.

As he sank down into the chair, the heavy leather cushion groaning under his bulk, Clark dragged his hands down his face, squeezing his eyes shut as a fresh wave of the aphrodisiac haze washed through him. The yellow sun inside his cells felt less like energy now and more like a live wire, humming in absolute harmony with the heavy, sweet scent of the greenhouse.

He looked up at you then, down from his seated position, his blue eyes wide, luminous, and terrifyingly honest. The polite, carefully guarded walls he usually kept between you—the safe distance of old acquaintances and shared orbits—were completely shattered.

"It's not just the pollen," Clark confessed, his voice dropping into that deep, resonant, impossibly passionate register that made your breath catch. He reached out, his calloused fingertips brushing hesitantly against your green wrist, as if needing to anchor himself to something real. His thumb traced the verdant skin of your pulse point with an aching, desperate tenderness. "God, I... I've been lying to myself for months, running back to Kansas, burying myself in deadlines at the Planet, pretending I didn't notice every single time you walked into a room. The pollen didn't create this, it just... it took away my excuse to keep quiet."

Your breath hitched, the playful, confident composure you usually wore like armor suddenly cracking at the sheer, overwhelming sincerity pouring out of him.

The confession hung heavy in the humid, jasmine-thick air of the greenhouse, vibrating with an intensity that outshone the amber grow lamps overhead.

For a heartbeat, the only sound was the rhythmic, organic pulse of the surrounding flora and the ragged, shallow cadence of Clark’s breathing. Your fingers remained pinned beneath his calloused hand, the contrast between his sun-warmed, fever-flush skin and your naturally cool, verdant touch sending a sharp, electric shiver up your spine.

You looked down at him—really looked at him—stripping away the invincible hero, the polished farm boy from Kansas, and seeing the raw, unguarded man underneath. The man who carried the weight of a dying world on his shoulders every single day, yet somehow looked at you as if you were the only real gravity holding him to the earth.

A slow, breathless smile touched your green lips, completely devoid of its usual sardonic edge.

"You really are a terrible liar, Clark Kent," you whispered, your voice softening into something rich and hypnotic as you stepped closer, closing the remaining space between you until your knees brushed against the edge of the wrought-iron chair.

With your free hand, you reached up, your fingers tangling gently into the dark, damp curls at the nape of his neck. The physical contact was immediate—his eyes fluttered shut, a low, helpless groan vibrating deep in his chest as his broad shoulders instinctively leaned into the touch, seeking relief from the fever consuming him.

"You spend all your time trying to save everyone else, carrying every burden, swallowing every truth just to keep the peace," you murmured, your thumb tracing the sharp, perfect line of his jaw. "Did you really think I wouldn't notice? Did you think I wouldn't want you right back?"

Clark’s eyes snapped open, a brilliant, swimming cobalt charged with an absolute, overwhelming tide of relief and raw desire. The hesitation—the lifetime of forced restraint and quiet longing—shattered entirely.

Before you could say another word, his large, powerful hands moved with sudden, urgent precision. One hand locked firmly around your hip, pulling you flush against him, while the other slid up to cup the back of your head, anchoring you to him as if you were the only anchor keeping him from drifting out into deep space.

When his mouth met yours, it wasn't hesitant. It was a collision of long-suppressed heat and desperate, starving honesty. His lips were burning hot against yours, radiating the excess solar energy and the intoxicating, alien pull of the pollen, tasting faintly of crushed nectar and ozone.

You gasped softly into the kiss, the sheer force of his emotion hitting you like a physical wave. Your hands slid from his hair down over his broad, flexing shoulders, feeling the heavy, frantic thrum of his heartbeat finally matching your own. The greenhouse around you seemed to respond to the shift, the surrounding vines and blossoms leaning inward, their heavy pheromonal scent wrapping around you both like a living cocoon, sealing you away from a world that neither of you cared about anymore.

The kiss deepened instantly, a fierce, hungry collision of breath and heat that completely overrode whatever remained of Clark’s legendary restraint. The pollen humming through his veins didn't just strip away his defenses; it acted like a live wire, short-circuiting every cautious impulse he had spent a lifetime building. Every stolen glance, every suppressed urge, every carefully guarded fantasy of pulling you close was suddenly demanding immediate, unfiltered payment.

Without breaking the kiss, Clark's powerful hands gripped your waist. With a seamless, effortless strength that ignored your protests entirely, he lifted you straight out of the wrought-iron chair. Your legs instinctively parted to lock around his hips as he surged to his feet, carrying you the few short steps across the damp, moss-covered floor.

A heavy mahogany potting table met your back, scattering a cascade of dried seed pods and small ceramic pots as he pressed you down against it. The hard wood bit through your thin shirt, but you barely felt it beneath the blazing heat of his body pinning you there. His chest rose and fell in jagged, violent intervals, radiating the intoxicating solar radiation mixed with the heavy, narcotic perfume of Solanaceae.

Abruptly, Clark pulled back, though he didn't let you go. His broad shoulders hitched as he fought for air, his blue eyes dark, wide, and dilated with an almost dizzying intensity. He stared down at your face, his gaze tracing your verdant skin before dropping to your parted lips.

"Sorry," he breathed, his voice thick, ragged, and trembling with a sudden rush of self-awareness. It was that instinctive, polite reflex—the polite Kansas boy trying desperately to apologize even as his body burned out of control.

Before he could pull away any further, you didn't give him the chance. Your long, perfectly manicured nails trailed sharply down the back of his neck, digging firmly into the taut muscles of his shoulders before slipping beneath the collar of his shirt. You raked your nails down his spine, a light, teasing scratch that made him shudder head-to-toe, a low, animalistic growl vibrating deep in his chest.

"Don't be so polite, farm boy," you rasped, your voice dropping to a low, wicked purr right against his ear.

Clark hummed—a deep, resonant sound of absolute surrender—and dove back down. His lips found the sensitive spot beneath your ear, pressing a hot, bruising kiss against your jaw before trailing a wet, deliberate path down your throat. You tilted your head back, exposing your neck to him as his mouth lingered deliberately over your throat, his teeth grazing your skin just hard enough to make you arch up against him with a sharp, breathless gasp. The greenhouse around you seemed to hold its breath, the heavy velvet petals of the orchids overhead opening wider in the thick, humid dark as Clark lost himself entirely to the pull.

The heavy, sweet scent of night-blooming jasmine felt almost suffocating now, wrapping around you both like a physical weight as Clark’s mouth worked its way down your throat. Every drag of his lips against your verdant skin sent a jolt of pure electricity straight to your core, the intoxicating mix of solar heat and alien pollen turning his usual gentle touch into something fierce, demanding, and utterly unhinged.

His large, calloused hands gripped your hips with enough force to bruise, hauling you flush against the hard ridge of his pelvis as he pressed you deeper into the mahogany table. The scattered seed packets and ceramic shards beneath you vanished from your awareness, entirely eclipsed by the friction of his body moving against yours.

You let out a soft, breathless sigh, your fingers curving tightly into the muscles of his back, tearing at the fabric of his shirt as you urged him closer, demanding more of the weight he was finally letting himself throw around.

Clark groaned into your skin, the sound vibrating straight through your chest. The pollen was rewriting every instinct he had, tearing down the walls of the careful, dutiful hero and leaving only raw, unfiltered hunger in its wake. He wasn't holding back for fear of breaking you; he knew exactly how strong you were, how much you could take, and the realization only made him bolder.

His lips traced a burning path back up your jaw, catching your bottom lip between his teeth in a sharp, possessive bite that stole the breath right out of your lungs. When he kissed you again, it was deep, bruising, and dizzying, tasting entirely of ozone, sweet nectar, and absolute surrender. His tongue swept into your mouth with a heat that matched the fever humming beneath his skin, completely consuming you as his hands slid up your sides, mapping the curve of your waist and ribs before tangling brutally in your hair, locking you in place so you couldn't escape even if you wanted to.

The greenhouse around you hummed in chaotic unison. Vines uncurled from the rafters, slithering downward to brush against your legs like green silk, while the surrounding blossoms spilled wave after wave of heavy, intoxicating pheromones into the humid air, feeding the frenzy.

Clark broke the kiss for just a fraction of a second, his chest heaving as he stared down at you, his blue eyes blown wide, dark, and wild with a terrifying, beautiful devotion.

"God, you're driving me insane," he rasped, his voice rough and broken, completely stripped of its usual steady baritone.

Without giving you a chance to answer, his mouth crashed back onto yours, his hands shifting to grab the hem of your emerald silk shirt, bunching the fabric in his fists as he prepared to tear it away entirely.

The rustle of tearing silk cut sharply through the heavy, humid air of the greenhouse as Clark's fists clenched, buttons popping and scattering across the mossy floor like loose gravel. The cool air of the room hit your bare chest, contrasting violently with the blazing, solar-heated brand of his hands as he finally pressed his palms flat against your skin.

You gasped, the sensation of his heat sweeping over your sensitive frame sending a violent shiver down your spine. Your legs tightened around his waist, locking him in place as your fingers dug deeper into the broad expanse of his shoulders, your nails scratching a sharp, possessive path across his skin.

Clark groaned, a low, resonant sound that vibrated straight through your chest. Every ounce of his legendary self-control—every careful boundary he had spent a lifetime meticulously guarding—shattered completely beneath the weight of the pollen and the raw, unadulterated need he had buried for too long. He wasn't holding back anymore. He caught your face between his large, calloused hands, his thumb pressing firmly into your bottom lip as his blue eyes burned into yours with a fierce, terrifying intensity.

"Look at me," he commanded, his voice raw, breathless, and stripped of every polite veneer he usually wore.

You met his gaze, breathless and aching, your own green eyes flashing with an equal, answering fire.

"I'm looking," you rasped back, a wicked, triumphant smile curving your lips. "What are you going to do about it, farm boy?"

Clark didn't answer with words. He crushed his mouth back down onto yours in a desperate, bruising kiss that stole the air right out of your lungs. His body surged forward, pressing you deeper into the wooden table as his hands slid down from your face to grip your hips, lifting and aligning you with a sudden, breathless momentum. The ambient hum of the greenhouse reached a fever pitch around you—vines wrapping tightly around the legs of the table, heavy blossoms weeping sweet nectar, and the intoxicating perfume of Solanaceae.

Clark’s hands moved with a rough, urgent efficiency, his fingers working the button and zipper of your trousers with clumsy, frantic strength. He didn't bother trying to fold them; he simply hauled them down, stripping away your trousers and boxers in one swift motion and tossing them carelessly onto the damp moss below.

As the cool, humid air of the greenhouse hit your lower body, a sharp shiver raced down your spine. You instinctively tensed as your hardening cock, its tip flushed a striking, vibrant green against your pale verdant skin, was exposed to the open air.

Clark didn't give you a moment to adjust. His mouth dipped down, his lips hot and demanding against your stomach. He nipped and bit at your sensitive skin, tracing a deliberate, bruising path downward and leaving dark, blossoming hickeys across your lower abdomen before his lips hovered just above your navel.

He froze, his broad shoulders heaving as he forced his eyes up to meet yours.

"Is this okay?" he whispered, his voice thick with a raw, agonizing restraint that felt entirely at odds with the frantic pulse of the room. "I can stop."

You let out a soft, low chuckle, leaning back against the mahogany table with an effortless, languid grace.

"You'd make fine fertilizer for my pitcher plants if I wasn't okay with this," you purred, a wicked, teasing light dancing in your eyes.

Clark swallowed hard, the brief flicker of hesitation vanishing entirely under the double weight of the pollen and your teasing dare.

With a slow, deliberate movement, you sat up on the edge of the table, hooking your fingers into the hem of Clark’s red-and-blue jersey. You didn't give him a choice; you yanked the fabric upward, tearing it over his head and tossing it aside to reveal the broad, muscular expanse of his chest, slick with sweat and humming with pent-up heat.

You leaned back again, resting your weight on your elbows, and let your gaze drift downward.

Across the moss-covered floor, thick, fibrous vines snapped to life. They coiled like living serpents, slithering silently out of the shadows and weaving their way up Clark’s powerful legs. Before he could even tense, the vines slipped smoothly into the waistband of his pants, curling inward with an eerie, intelligent precision.

You smirked, crossing your ankles loosely as you tightened your mental grip on the surrounding foliage. With a gentle flick of your wrist and a steady, dominant pull of your consciousness, the vines tugged downward, stripping his pants and briefs away in one fluid motion and casting them aside into the ferns.

Clark let out a sharp, involuntary gasp, his breath catching in his throat as he stood completely, defenselessly naked before you.

The sight of him made your breath hitch in return. His god-like frame was magnificent, sculpted and flushed with fever, and standing fully erect—a blatant, undeniable symptom of the sex pollen flooding his Kryptonian bloodstream.

The moment the fabric fell away, a network of thick vines snapped tightly around his torso and thighs, pinning him momentarily in a cage of living foliage before they abruptly dissolved, sliding backward and disappearing entirely into the deep, breathing shadows of the heavy foliage that answered only to you.

Clark stood trembling in the center of the greenhouse, chest heaving, utterly at your mercy.

You curled your index finger, giving him a slow, deliberate beckoning motion.

Clark didn't hesitate for a single fraction of a second. The last fragile remnants of his restraint snapped clean in two. He stepped directly between your spread, open thighs, his large hands immediately locking onto your hips with a bruising, possessive grip that hauled you straight to the edge of the wood.

The movement brought your bodies flush together, alignment instant and electric. Your cocks brushed tip against tip—both of you slick, weeping, and aching with a vicious, hypersensitive friction that sent a violent, full-body shiver crashing down your spines.

Clark groaned, a harsh, ragged sound swallowed up by the humid air of the greenhouse. He leaned forward, his hot, heavy breath fanning wildly against your skin before his mouth found your collarbone. He kissed and nipped with frantic intensity, sucking hard at the verdant flesh until a cluster of deep, purple hickeys bloomed across your chest, matching the fevered marks he'd left on your abdomen moments before.

A sharp, breathless moan slipped past your lips. Your hands flew to his back, your long nails carving fiery paths up his spine while your fingers tangled fiercely in his damp, dark curls.

"Good boy," you hummed, your voice a wicked, praise-heavy purr. You shifted your hips just an inch, pressing your leaking cock hard against his to steal some friction, smiling darkly as Clark shuddered violently against you, his entire frame going rigid.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his chest heaving as he gasped for air. His blue eyes were practically swallowed by blown, dilated pupils, staring at you with the absolute, feral hunger of a man who had gone days without water in a desert.

Without warning, his hands gripped your waist and yanked you forward, lifting and pressing you flat against the mahogany table. He shoved your legs back, folding you upward until your knees nearly touched your shoulders, trapping you open and utterly exposed beneath him.

He didn't rush. Instead, he stopped, hovering over you with wild, fever-bright eyes, watching with breathless fascination as your cock twitched in the humid air and your tight hole pulsed and fluttered with aching anticipation.

"Can I?" he murmured, his voice cracking, thick with a mix of raw reverence and desperate need.

A sharp, trembling breath hitched in your throat, your fingers curling white-knuckled over the edge of the mahogany table as the weight of him settled completely between your thighs.

"Yeah. Please," you whispered, your voice dropping to a raw, breathless rasp.

Clark’s large hand wrapped securely around your ankles, holding your legs bent back and forcing you completely open, while his free hand dropped down to grip the base of his heavy, aching cock. He was slick with pre-cum, gleaming under the ambient amber glow of the grow lamps, every muscle in his forearm corded with strain as he fought to keep his movements deliberate.

Instead of pushing forward, he dragged the tip of his cock slowly, teasingly across your twitching, hypersensitive hole.

A sharp whimper tore past your lips at the friction, your hips instinctively bucking upward toward the touch. Clark bit down hard on his lower lip, a low, ragged groan vibrating in his chest as he watched your body react. He pressed your knees back an inch further, his dark, dilated eyes tracking the way your ass lifted eagerly off the wood, exposing you entirely to his gaze.

"Look at you," he muttered, his voice thick with a mix of awe and unadulterated need.

He didn't wait any longer. Slowly, agonizingly, Clark pressed forward, driving just the blunt head of his cock inside you. The foreign heat of him—supercharged by the solar radiation and the intoxicating sex pollen—flooded your tight walls. He shuddered violently at the immediate, suffocating grip of your warmth, his head falling back as a raw, breathless groan broke from his mouth.

"Fuck," you breathed out, your back arching off the table as your own cock twitched, leaking thick beads of pre-cum that smeared hot against your abdomen.

Clark grunted, his hips snapping forward with a slow, heavy slide that buried him deeper inside you. The thick, meaty slap of his balls against your skin echoed softly through the humid air of the greenhouse, swallowed immediately by the rustle of the surrounding ferns.

"God, you feel incredible," he panted, the words dragging out of him with a heavy, instinctive honesty that bypassed every filter he usually wore.

Clark dropped his hold on your ankles, his large hands sliding up to cup the backs of your knees instead. With effortless strength, he planted his forearms on either side of your head against the mahogany table, leaning his heavy, fever-heated frame down over you. He locked you in place, keeping your legs folded back and your tight, aching walls stretched completely open, entirely filled by the massive weight of his cock.

Your hands flew up instinctively, your long nails sinking deep into the solid muscle of his shoulders as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, giving you a second to catch your breath and adjust to the sheer fullness of him.

You shifted your hips restlessly, a soft, high-pitched moan spilling past your lips as his cock pulsed inside you.

"Stop playing with me," you breathed, your voice a desperate, gravelly whine.

Clark let out a low, rumbling grunt against your skin. He pulled back slowly, dragging his thick shaft outward until only the blunt tip brushed your entrance, before smoothly, deliberately sliding back in. He set a slow, agonizingly steady pace, his teeth nipping sharply at your pulse point as his body pressed you harder into the wood. With every forward glide, your leaking cock slapped against his abdomen, smearing the thick, clear pre-cum across both your stomachs in a slick, warm friction.

He picked up the rhythm just a fraction, the slow slide turning into a deep, measured roll of his hips as he pushed himself up, trailing hot kisses along your jawline before capturing your lips.

Every thrust had you gasping directly into his mouth, your cries muffled against his lips as the small clearing in the greenhouse filled with the wet, rhythmic slap of skin against skin and the frantic, hammering cadence of your joined heartbeats.

Around you, the room itself seemed to inhale your shared panic and heat. The ambient pheromones triggered a wild, sudden growth spurt through the greenhouse: thick green vines snapped across the mossy floor, coiling and climbing up the metal supports to wrap around the amber grow lights, while night-blooming flowers burst open across the ceiling in a cascading canopy of deep indigo and magenta.

You broke the kiss, tossing your head back against the wood as a raw, demanding edge crept into your voice.

"Harder," you panted, your hips bucking up to meet him as the pollen drove every ounce of restraint from your mind.

Clark didn’t need to be told twice. The raw, demanding edge in your voice acted like a match to dry brush, short-circuiting what little restraint the sex pollen hadn't already stripped away.

A deep, feral growl tore from his throat. The slow, agonizingly steady rhythm shattered instantly, replaced by a punishing, relentless velocity. His hips slammed forward with terrifying force, driving deep into you over and over again until the mahogany table beneath you shuddered and groaned in protest.

Every single thrust sent a blinding shockwave of pleasure straight up your spine. Your legs, trapped and pinned back by his heavy forearms, shook violently with the impact. Your hands slid from his shoulders, your fingers curling into his thick, dark curls as you arched your back off the wood, crying out his name into the humid, jasmine-thick air.

The greenhouse responded to the crescendo of your climaxing bodies with absolute, chaotic reverence. The vines carpeting the floor whipped into a frenzy, tangling thickly around Clark’s powerful legs and your own ankles like living shackles. Above you, the ceiling canopy burst into a shower of glowing, luminescent petals, raining soft, violet pollen down over your sweating skin like glittering dust. The air grew thick, heavy, and intoxicating, humming with the living pulse of a thousand awakened plants thriving entirely off the heat and friction of your coupling.

Clark pulled back just enough to look down at you, his chest heaving, his blue eyes entirely black with dilated pupils. He looked completely unraveled—the invincible Man of Steel utterly brought to his knees, dismantled and remade by your hands.

"God, you're... you're driving me out of my mind," he gasped, his voice cracking into a raw, breathless plea.

He didn't slow down. He locked his mouth over yours in a crushing, desperate kiss that tasted of ozone and nectar, his hips driving harder, faster, chasing the edge right alongside you.

Clark’s rhythm fractured, his powerful, controlled thrusts suddenly turning desperate and sloppy as the final, overwhelming wave hit him. His cock twitched violently inside you, swelling and hot as the tip hammered mercilessly against your prostate with every ragged, uncoordinated drive of his hips.

A low, guttural moan tore from his chest. You clamped down hard around him, your inner walls convulsing in a tight, greedy grip that proved to be his undoing. Clark stiffened against you, a violent shudder wracking his massive frame as his cock pulsed deep inside your body, flooding you with wave after wave of hot, thick cum.

The intense pressure triggered your own tipping point. You let out a sharp, breathless cry, your head thrown back against the mahogany table, your mouth parted as a blinding flash of white-hot pleasure stripped away all remaining thought. Your own cock twitched frantically, shooting thick ropes of cum across your stomach and smearing it against Clark's lower abdomen as he kept driving into you, refusing to stop even as you shattered around him, riding out the endless shockwaves of your climax.

Slowly, the frantic energy began to ebb, leaving behind only the heavy, rhythmic thrum of the surrounding flora and your own ragged breathing.

Clark carefully released your body, lowering your legs down from the bent position. They felt heavy, numb, and stiff from the prolonged strain, trembling slightly against the now damp table below you. With a slow, reluctant groan, Clark slid out of you, a soft, wet pop echoing in the humid air as he pulled back. He staggered slightly, catching himself against the edge of the table, his chest heaving as he gasped for air, his skin slick with sweat and glowing under the amber lights.

He stared down at you for a long, quiet moment, the wild, fevered panic of the pollen slowly receding from his brilliant blue eyes, leaving behind a heavy, lingering haze of realization.

"I'm... I'm sorry," Clark whispered, his voice cracking with a sudden, agonizing wave of guilt and remorse. He dragged a hand through his damp dark curls, looking away toward the floor. "God, I—this wasn't... something like this isn't going to happen again. I lost control, I should have—"

You let out a soft, melodic laugh, the sound dripping with absolute amusement and quiet triumph. You reached up, your long, dark green nail pressing firmly against the underside of his chin, forcing him to look back up and meet your gaze.

"Don't lie to yourself, farm boy," you murmured, your voice a low, teasing purr that sent a shiver straight down his spine. "You didn't lose control. You just finally stopped hiding."

Clark blinked, the apology dying on his lips as he looked into your eyes, seeing the undeniable truth written there. The pollen hadn't invented his desire; it had only ripped away the walls he had spent a lifetime building.

A slow, helpless, and utterly smitten smile curved across Clark’s lips, chasing away the shadow of his guilt. He leaned his weight forward, resting his forehead against yours as the last of his resistance melted completely away.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

You and Huang Xinghui have been friends since middle school. Basically growing up with each other. He was your first real friend and you both shared a sort of secret relationship that others couldn’t understand.

Though everyone around you kept telling you that Xinghui was in love with you.

The idea seemed ludicrous. Even when it was said to you at your all boys high school. Xinghui not having a girlfriend made perfect sense to you then because what girls would he talk to? You both spent time together so you knew his schedule perfectly.

Class, dorm room, lunch or dinner, and then his piano lessons. That’s about it. So you were a bit confused why the boys at your school kept teasing that he was your boyfriend. Not that there was anything wrong for boys to date… but you and Xinghui?

They were making things up.

Even when you finally graduated and were heading to university, you and Xinghui somehow managed to be dormmates. You were excited at the idea of being with someone you were already so comfortable with. Your mom had something else to say though.

“Just don’t cause too many issues for your next door neighbors. The walls aren’t thick y’know.”

“What do you mean? I make sure to keep my voice down while gaming.” You said as you packed up your gaming console to take to the university. Your back was turned to your mom so you couldn’t see the face she made.

She sighed. “(Name), I mean don’t have sex without taking into consideration your neighbors. I trust you and Xinghui are smarter than that.”

“What–?” You turned to face her, feeling your face warm up. “Who–? Why–? Who would I even be having sex with? I’m a proud virgin!” Your words tumbled out fast as you clutched your gaming console to your chest. “I’m saving it, yknow?”

“Right.” She muttered, raising an eyebrow. “Well my point still stands even if you don’t go all the way.”

“Ma, me and Xinghui are just friends.”

“Sure.” She patted your shoulder before continuing on with helping you pack.

“Isn’t it weird? My mom thought we were dating!” You sat down on the small couch in the center of the room. It was a semi large one. Xinghui’s bed was pressed against the back wall, his desk right beside it in front of the large window. While your bed was on the left wall—a high rise bed with your desk underneath it.

All things considered the room was a great size for the both of you.

Xinghui broke down one of the boxes he used to hold some of his things. The couch was facing the wall across from his bed so you couldn’t see his face. He didn’t respond at first. You were about to repeat yourself thinking he didn’t hear you when he finally did.

“My parents think so too.”

“What? Well what did you tell them?” You turned back to face him, watching as he placed the deconstructed box underneath his bed. His back still facing you.

“Mhm.” Was he said. You frowned and watched as he continued unpacking. Xinghui was a man of few words anyway so you weren’t too shocked whenever he didn’t answer a question of yours. You usually figured out what he meant by yourself anyway.

Huang Xinghui was a handsome guy but his personality of keeping silent when spoken to made him a bit hard to build relationships with. He had ‘cold’ eyes according to everyone else but you thought his eyes were quite lively. They spoke for him most of the time. Through his eyes you’d understand exactly what he was feeling or thinking.

So he had gotten into the habit of looking away.

You watched Xinghui continue unpacking–taking in his newish style. Now that you both didn’t need to wear uniforms anymore, you’d get to see him in regular clothing at school. He had a darker aesthetic. The only bright part about him was the small section of dyed blond hair from his bangs.

“What do you want for dinner?” Xinghui plugged in his phone to charge before finally turning over to face you. His face was neutral. When you looked him in the eye, you knew you missed your chance to read what he was feeling earlier.

A huff left you. Cheeky bastard.

“There’s a popular chicken place nearby. I heard they make great fried chicken.” You grinned. “It’s Saturday tomorrow so…” you wiggled your eyebrows, letting your words trail off.

Xinghui only shook his head.

After about two beers and an entire box of chicken fully devoured, you were stuffed. The laptop in front of you on the coffee table was playing some random movie you don’t remember choosing. It looked to be a horror movie though. You yawned and stretched out on the couch, almost slipping off.

Others would find eating chicken and drinking beer without talking, only the movie being the source of sound, to be uncomfortable. But you were used to sitting with your thoughts when it came to Xinghui. It was usually without any type of noise half the time.

So movies were welcomed.

You glanced over at Xinghui, wanting to ask if he remembered what movie this was when you noticed he was already staring at you. “Xinghui?” You blink and give him a slight smile. He was holding another beer in his hand but it was beginning to slip from his grasp. How many did he drink?

“Xinghui?” You reached over and grabbed the near empty bottle. When placing it with the other finished beer bottles, you realized there were over four other bottles next to your two. Your eyes widened slightly but you shook your head. It wasn’t the strangest thing–sometimes Xinghui drinks more than you.

A lot more.

Five in one night seemed excessive. You looked back at him only to flinch. He was closer, much closer. His nose brushed against yours and you couldn’t help but giggle at first. You blinked excessively at his long overgrown bangs teasing your cheeks. His breath smelled exactly like the cheap beer he bought.

“You ok?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Xinghui hummed. “After two beers, you fell asleep for a few minutes.” He said.

“I did?” You tried thinking back but couldn’t really remember that. You were a lightweight but you didn’t think you were that much of a lightweight. “Sorry, I think the whole moving in tired me out.” You yawned.

“Mhm.”

“Let’s just head to bed, we can clean up in the morning.” You said, glancing at the mess on the coffee table. It wasn’t much but with you being so sleepy it felt like a whole mountain of work.

“(Name).”

“Hm?”

“I wanna kiss you.”

“What–?”

Suddenly you felt lips pressed against yours.

Huang Xinghui liked you.

For a while now apparently. Everyone was right. Perhaps you were the only one who was dumb enough to not realize it. But was it that strange to believe that your friend since forever was just that? A friend?

He had kissed you.

Three weeks ago.

And everything has been awkward ever since. For the first time in your life, Xinghui was avoiding you. That kiss changed everything. You remember not even kissing him back. Just staring straight at him—trying to understand what was happening.

When he pulled away and walked to his bedroom. Slamming the door shut.

The next day you tried to talk to him like normal but he ignored you. Pointedly so. Then he started making sure he practically never came across you. It was a feat. You wondered how he managed to never be home when you were home. Making sure you never crossed paths on campus.

You were miserable.

University wasn’t supposed to push you and Xinghui apart. It wasn’t like you even refused him. Even if you didn’t see him that way. He was a part of your life and you could never imagine one without him. You didn’t even have any other friends beside him.

Something your mom had constantly criticized. You always pushed those critiques away. Now you realized why she had them. You were essentially all alone without Xinghui. It was lonely.

Almost four weeks passed when you decided you couldn’t take it anymore.

Luckily you knew Xinghui’s schedule. He had told you before classes started. So in an effort to save your (only) friendship—you skipped class and waited outside his first class of the day. Ancient Chinese medicine.

A few minutes passed before Xinghui left the classroom, head down as he scrolled on his phone. You quickly jumped up from your waiting spot against the wall and sprinted over to him. Xinghui didn’t look up at first. His eyes narrowing at his phone before he seemed to finally feel your presence.

His eyes flickered over to you.

He quickly sprinted away without a word.

“Bastard.” You cursed to yourself as you followed after him. Xinghui was heading to his next class. Chemistry if you remember correctly. He was already sitting at a spot in the back of the room, right near the window. You entered the classroom without any hesitation and plopped down beside him.

“You can’t sit here.” Xinghui simply said.

“Why not?”

“It’s his seat.”

You glanced over to see a student walking over with a confused expression.

“Uh, are you a new student?” The guy asked. “This is my seat.”

“No,” you reached over and grabbed Xinghui’s arm, tugging him close to you. Xinghui stared at you with a shocked expression. “I’m trying to make things right with my friend but he’s been ignoring me. So I’m following him everywhere until he notices me.”

“Oh…”

“Can you cheer me on, Ge?” You pouted. Xinghui tried pulling his hand free but you only tightened your grip, resting your head on his shoulder.

The guy only shook his head. “It’s too early for this… good luck,” he sat down in the empty chair beside you.

You gave him a grateful smile before turning your attention to Xinghui. He was looking straight ahead. Jaw tightened. He tried once more to tug his hand free but you tightened your octopus-like grip on him.

“What do you want for dinner? We haven’t had dinner together in a while.” You asked.

He didn’t respond. Even as class went on, the professor seemingly paid you no mind—Xinghui’s jaw was tense the entire time. His gaze straight ahead. Fingers gripping tightly on his pen as he took notes.

Class ended. Xinghui made another attempt to pull his arm free that was met with resistance once again.

People began to file out of the classroom. You knew Xinghui didn’t have any more classes after this so he wasn’t in a rush to get anywhere. Xinghui didn’t move a second until the classroom was completely empty. He turned to face you.

His expression almost made you flinch. Never in your entire life had he ever looked at you like this. With such… anger. Contempt even. Why was he so angry? It wasn’t like you did anything.

“Are you finding this funny?” He whispered. His free hand reached over and grabbed your hand, squeezing it tightly. The pain caused you to wince and unintentionally release his arm. He pulled himself free and quickly stood up.

You stood up as well. “Funny? Nothing is funny right now, Xinghui. I’m confused about what happened to us.”

“Why are you confused? I confessed. You rejected me. There’s nothing else left to say.”

“So that means you’re going to throw away our friendship?”

“(Name), how dumb are you?”

You bristled at his tone.

“I never viewed you as a friend.” Xinghui’s words shook you to your core. But he continued on. “I loved you. And if you don’t want to date me, then why should I hurt myself and force a friendship I don’t care about?”

“Don’t… care about?”

Xinghui simply scoffed. “Once the lease is over, I’ll move out. You should make sure you find a roommate before then.”

Move out?

He’s going to leave you.

Permanently?

Xinghui grabbed his bag and moved to walk away but you quickly grabbed his arm. He tried tugging himself free. “What—?”

“No way! I don’t want you to ever leave my life.”

“Are you insane? Just how selfish are you to force me to still be your friend when I said I don’t want to be.”

Your lips pulled into a thin line. “If that’s selfish, then I don’t care. You can be selfish too in return.”

“How—?”

“You can ask for anything from me. Anything you want, I can’t refuse. Just…” your throat felt tight. Eyes beginning to burn. “Just continue being my friend. Please.”

It was quiet for a moment.

“Anything?” He whispered.

“Mhm.”

Xinghui stared at you. His eyes unreadable. It wasn’t an expression that you had seen before. He didn’t feel like your friend anymore.

“I wanna fuck you.”

There was no reason for why you were still a virgin. You never really dated. Never seeing the point. Xinghui was all you really needed. He was always there so you never saw the purpose in pursuing any connection outside of him.

Maybe that’s why you allowed for this to happen.

The reason why you would do anything to keep Xinghui in your life.

Why you were currently bent over the couch, getting fucked by Xinghui. There was no build up. No easing you into anything. You both walked home without saying a thing. The only sound being the door closing shut behind you. Xinghui had pushed you into the couch, pulling your pants down, and spitting into his hand.

He was nice enough to finger you open. It burned. Not a pleasant feeling really. He didn’t waste a moment before pushing inside of you. Officially taking your virginity. You squeezed your eyes shut, gripping tightly at the couch cushion as his hips slammed forward against your ass.

His cock stretched you full. Nothing in common with his fingers. It hardly prepared you for how big he was. You could feel his cock against your warm walls. The drag of his cock as he kept a fast consistent pace. He didn’t say a word.

It almost felt clinical.

But even then, you were a little glad he was your first. At least it went to someone you cared for. Just as fast as it started—it was over. Xinghui pulled out. Warm sticky cum dripped onto your lower back.

The sound of a zipper and rustling of jeans. That’s all you heard before footsteps pattering down the hallway.

You were all alone.

Everything went back to normal.

Or at least, you pretend it did. The next day Xinghui was in the kitchen. He almost looked shocked to see you. His eyes watching your every move. It felt like he was expecting you to be angry or something.

But why would you be?

You smiled at him, “did you eat breakfast yet? I’m gonna scramble some eggs.” He only stared at you as if you had grown two heads.

Things continued on like nothing even happened. Only for you though. You spoke to Xinghui as if the whole situation never happened. Not even that you had moved passed it. Xinghui, however, was struggling to do the same. You could tell.

He wasn’t normal like usual. His posture tense whenever you touched him. As if you were going to hit him. Which confused you. Why would you ever hurt him? Almost a month passed like this. You interacting with him like normal. While Xinghui grew confused by the day.

But it seemed he had a breaking point.

Your mom had stopped by to drop off some food. She could tell something was wrong.

“Are you… two okay?” She asked, just as she was ready to leave. Her eyes flickering between the both of you. “I know living together can raise problems but I hope you talk things out.” Her gaze pointedly turned to Xinghui.

“Mhm? We’re good! Great even.” You laughed, waving your mom’s worries off like it was unfounded. She hesitated but soon nodded her head. Deciding there was no purpose in prying. You waved her goodbye and closed the door behind her.

“We’re good?” Xinghui suddenly spoke.

You looked back at him. “Hm?”

“We’re ‘good?’ What are you talking about? We haven’t been good in almost three months.”

“What do you mean?”

“What—? (Name), haven’t you noticed the tension between us?” His eyes were wide. Perhaps the first time in awhile that you could see emotions in them that weren’t confusion. It was filled with hurt. “I… I took something from you in anger. I hurt you on purpose because I wanted to get back at you for rejecting me. Why haven’t you noticed that?”

You blinked.

A small smile formed on your lips. “Why are you acting like I didn’t know that?”

“Huh?”

You stepped forward. Hands reaching out as you grabbed Xinghui’s. His hands were bigger than yours. It had been forever since you touched him. A giddy laugh left you. “I know you did that to hurt me.” You looked up at him. “I don’t care. I asked for it. I wanted it. Anything to keep you with me.”

Xinghui stared at you. Really stared at you. He looked as if he was trying to comprehend what you were saying. Realizing just… how devoted you were to this ‘friendship’ with him. “They were right.” He whispered to himself.

“Who?”

He shook his head, “you want me in your life?”

“Yes.”

“Only me?”

“….yes.” You squeezed his hands. “No one else matters. No one can ever compare to you.”

Xinghui freed his hands. He reached over and gripped the back of your neck, fingers digging into your skin as he tugged you forward. “Then I can do whatever I want?”

“Mhm,” you let out a breathy laugh, lips parting into a smile. “Please. Anything to keep you in my life.”

A pained expression flickered on Xinghui’s face but it was gone before you could question it. He pulled you forward and captured your lips into a sneering kiss. It was the first time he’s kissed since that night.

This one was different. While the one that night was soft, almost nervous—this one was hungry. Xinghui knew what he wanted. And what he wanted was you.

You being his.

His free hand gripped pants, popping the button open. He pushed you back against the door. Your body banging against it from the force. Pain briefly shot through your back but his kiss distracted you from verbally out any pain. You struggled on what to do with your hands. They pressed against the door before you hesitantly reached out and placed them on Xinghui’s shoulders.

He swallowed every moan and whimper you let out into the kiss. His hand slipped into your boxers, grabbing a handful of your ass. Everything felt… different this time. It didn’t feel mechanical. This time you could really feel the hungry Xinghui felt for you.

He kissed you like he wanted to eat you. Your back arched off the door, eyes squeezing shut as you felt fingers tease your asshole. They were dry and unable to push in due to resistance. You finally pulled away from the kiss—needing to breathe.

You buried your face into Xinghui’s shoulders. Legs twitching. Xinghui didn’t say much. But that didn’t shock you. He was never much of a talker. The sound of him spitting caused you to flinch. Newly wet fingers pressed against your hole once more.

Like before he didn’t waste a second before slipping in two fingers. The stretch earned a pained gasp from you. However he was more gentle this time. His fingers slowly stretching you. Properly preparing you. A graze against a certain area caused you to moan. Pleasure shooting through your veins.

“What was that…?” You muttered into his shoulder. Xinghui didn’t answer. His free hand tightened its grip on your waist, stabilizing you.

He continued to stretch you. Occasionally brushing against the little spot that made you whimper. Your toes curled. Hands gripping tightly at his shoulders. Your cock dripped pre-cum onto the ground.

That was different as well.

Your body was actually reacting this time around.

Xinghui suddenly flipped you around, pressing your face right into the door. One hand held the back of your head while the other gripped your waist. You shuddered at his forcefulness. Hands uselessly gripping at the door.

“Are you going to wear a condom this time?” You whispered.

“Why should I? I’ll be the only man who gets to fuck you anyway.”

You didn’t know why your cock twitched at his words.

Xinghui wasn’t slow. Perhaps deciding he was kind enough to properly stretch you out. He thrust his cock inside of you without warning. A loud cry leaving you at the sudden action. His hand tightened its grip on your waist to keep you still.

His hips slammed into your ass. The sound of skin slapping together filled the hallway. Short quick moans left you in tandem with his thrusts. Your eyes were threatening to roll back. It was hard for you to even keep your body up.

If Xinghui wasn’t holding you up, you were sure you would’ve fallen down by now.

Only a second later and you felt your stomach tighten. A pain whimper leaving you as you came. Cum dripped onto the floor but Xinghui didn’t let up. In fact you felt as if his thrusts had gotten faster. More brutal.

“Xinghui, s…slow down.” You reached back to grab his hand on your waist. But he only picked up the pace. The silence you got in return made you whimper in response. He was chasing his own release. Uncaring of the overstimulation he was causing you.

It felt like forever. His thrusts pushing you further into the door. Neighbors would certainly complain about the noise in the morning. Your moans were louder as well. Cock hard once more, ready to cum again.

Another particularly hard thrust, he pulled your hips back, ass flushed against his hips—cum releasing inside you. Your legs twitched. Fingers pressed against the door as your cock came again as well. More watery than the first orgasm. Hot cum filled you inside. It felt gross but also oddly comforting.

Xinghui was really a part of you. Deep inside.

You sighed. At least now you could go relax and take a shower. You tried pushing yourself off the door when Xinghui forced you back against it. His body pressed against your own. Lips brushing against the tip of your ear.

“You want me to stay with you forever, yea?” He whispered.

“Yes…”

Hands slowly reached underneath your shirt. His hands felt hot against your skin. Gripping possessively at your body.

“Then I’ll need to have access to you.”

“Access?”

“Yes.” He shifted his hips. The drag of his cock against your sensitive walls earned a small gasp from you. “I’ll continue being your friend…. And you’ll let me fuck you whenever I want. Can you handle that?”

You glanced back at him. Eyes wide.

A smile formed on your lips.

“Yea, I can handle it.”

Xinghui was always told by others that you had a weird obsession over him. He didn’t see it. At least it didn’t really bother him back then. It didn’t seem serious. You just didn’t have any other friends and well neither did he really. None of them compared to you.

He had fallen for you but he knew deep down you didn’t feel the same.

But he was over it that night. He couldn’t take it anymore and just kissed you. When he pulled away he didn’t expect the look you had given him. One completely devoid of any emotion.

Just… blank.

Like you couldn’t even comprehend what he had just done. Like he genuinely ruined you. He hadn’t realized just how attached you were to him as a friend.

It angered him.

When it really should’ve worried him that you were this devoted to him. In a messed up way he wished your devotion was out of love. Not friendship.

He tried pushing you away. Even went as far as to take your virginity, believing you’d snap and kick him out. But you didn’t. You just… pretended everything was fine.

And in a way he tried to do the same but when you had lied to your mother he snapped. When presented with the reality that you were genuinely not okay. That your friendship with him had seemed to mess with your psyche—he should’ve nipped it in the bud. Should’ve called your mom and insist she take you to therapy… something.

He was happy to keep you as his.

With time he could always get you to fall in love with him.

You both only wanted the other even if the way you wanted each other wasn’t equal.

It was only you and him.

And it was going to stay that way.

Clark whispered in exasperation at you, staring down at your nonchalant face from across the table at the restaurant he brought you to for dinner.

You tilted your head, your eyes blinked innocently at him. “What’s wrong sweetie? Food not to your liking?”

“The food’s fine.” Clark cleared his throat, feeling your foot rub against his leg. He was very glad the restaurant had a giant table cloth to hide what was happening under it.

You hummed. “Maybe we can open a bottle of wine back at your apartment later to relax.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Clark forced out, your foot now resting on his pant covered crotch. Clark gulped at the sensual feeling of your socked foot rubbing against his swelling member but he was getting frustrated when that’s all you did before your foot retreated.

Clark spent the rest of the dinner calming his erection down while he tried to enjoy his food.

~~~~~

“That was pretty daring.”

Clark told you with a huff as he took your coat off your body to hang on the rack near the entrance of his apartment before hanging his suit jacket next.

He rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt as he watched you go into the kitchen to procure a bottle of wine that you kept in one of his cabinets from one of your last visits.

You turned to him with a smile as you held up the bottle with a grin. “How about a glass of wine for a job well done?”

“And what job would that be?” Clark cocked an eyebrow at you.

You gave him a sly look as you searched around to get one wine glass. “Your control of not jumping my bones all night.”

“So you were testing me?” Clark replied with a snort, crossing his arms over his chest as you poured out wine into the cup.

You shrugged taking a sip of the wine before smacking your lips loudly. “I was just curious to see how far you’re willing to deal with my bullshit.”

“Language,” Clark playfully scolded you. “And don’t I get a drink too?”

“Take a seat on the couch, I’ll bring your drink right out.” You winked at Clark, making him chuckle before doing so.

Clark was left alone in his living room for a few minutes before his eyes widened when you strolled into the room without your pants.

Clark’s mouth dropped in awe at the sight of you in your white dress shirt, underwear and knee high socks.

Clark blinked. “Honey? What happened to your pants?”

“Don’t worry about them.” You told Clark before straddling him, balancing the glass of wine in your hand.

Clark was a little bewildered by your erotic behaviour but he definitely didn’t mind it as his hands squeezed your waist.

“What happened to my drink?” Clark asked, looking up at you in amusement.

You winked. “I’m feeding you, obviously. A sweet treat after a hard day’s work and then having to entertain your boyfriend’s teasing during dinner.”

You leaned in, capturing Clark’s lips with yours in a soft kiss. Clark let out a sound of disapproval when you pulled away before he could deepen the kiss.

“Don’t be like that,” Clark shivered at your sultry tone. “Open your mouth, I’m gonna feed you now.”

Clark’s lips parted without hesitation, getting a smug look from you as you took a sip from the cup in your hand before you leaned back down and pushed the wine into Clark’s mouth.

Clark made a surprised noise in the back of his throat, he had expected you to just tip the cup to his lips but he welcomed the new method of drinking wine.

Clark sucked on your tongue, the sweetness of the wine mixed with your saliva. “Give me more honey.”

You took another sip before latching your lips with Clark’s, the wine pouring out of your mouth and into his.

Clark felt some of the wine trickle down his chin before your tongue was licking the excess wine off his face.

“Don’t wanna waste it.” You murmured as you sat back, licking your lips.

Clark felt the side of his mouth twitch before he was reaching out to grab the glass of wine out of your hand.

“What are you doing?” You pouted, gripping the glass tighter so Clark couldn’t snatch it out of your hand.

Clark smiled as he noticed your face getting redder from the wine. “I want to do more with you too hun but we’re not going to if you’re not sobered up.”

“But I still want to feed you.” You whined, moving in Clark’s lap. Clark bit down on the bottom of his lip, both from wanting to laugh at how adorable you were being and how good it felt feeling your ass rub against his crotch.

Clark’s eyes widened when you decided to pour the remainder of the wine on the front of your dress shirt, soaking your chest as it showed off your perky nipples through the material of your shirt.

“There,” You exclaimed. “You can drink more and I won’t get drunk further.”

Clark wasted no time as he latched his mouth onto one of your nipples, sucking a nub through your wine drenched shirt.

Clark let out a happy moan when you whimpered and tugged on the back of his head, pushing your chest into his face.

Clark chuckled, he loved when you would react needily in his arms.

“Clark.” You sighed when Clark stopped attacking your chest turned his attention to your neck, licking and biting against the skin to leave a mark.

Clark let out a satisfied rumble. “What do you need, honey?”

“I need you.” You gasped out, rolling your hips down into Clark’s lap. Clark’s breath hitched at the sweet friction you were giving him.

Clark licked his lips and nodded. “Okay hun but I need to open you up so you need to be patient with me, okay?”

You made a noise of disapproval but didn’t argue when Clark unbuttoned your pants and slipped the waist of it down so it hooked right under the curves of your ass.

Clark smiled when you sighed as he grabbed your cheeks and fondled them in his hands.

“It’s going to be a little uncomfortable, so you have to tell me if you want to stop.” Clark told you.

Clark felt your fingers tighten on his shoulders when he pushed one finger in, pushing just pass the rim until the knuckle.

Clark swirled his finger in you, testing to see if he could find the prostate before he passed a bump that made you twitch in his arms.

“Clark!” You gasped out, eyes widening for a second before you leaned in to capture his lips in a heated kiss while you moved your hips in his lap.

Clark added another finger in, causing you to moan into his mouth.

You panted. “I want the real thing.”

“Just a bit more, hun. Be patient.” Clark told you, pushing his tongue into your mouth to distract you while he continued to open you up with his fingers until he felt you were ready for his cock.

Clark moaned against your mouth in surprise when one of your hands reached down to palm his cock through his pants before you blindly unlatched his belt and unbuttoned his pants to push your hand in to grasp his hardening length.

You whimpered against Clark’s mouth as you continued to ride his fingers while stroking his cock. “I’m open, Clark. Don’t you want to stick your cock inside me?”

Clark groaned, his cock twitched in your hand by your erotic words.

You gasped when Clark pulled his fingers out before he gently lifted you up so he could get the rest of his pants and underwear off his legs.

Clark was getting dizzy with lust as he aimed the head of his cock to your hole before you slowly sat down and took in the rest of his length.

“That’s it, honey. Take in what you can, this was what you wanted all night wasn’t it?” Clark panted, feeling himself bottom out as you plopped onto his lap with a whimper.

You nodded wordlessly, latching your lips with Clark’s again as you started to ride his lap.

Clark’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, his hands held your waist as you rode him to your heart’s desire. The constant warmth of your hole squeezing the life of his cock as you went into a rhythm was blowing his mind.

Clark sat back and watched in awe when you threw your head back with a sigh as you lost yourself in riding him.

Clark’s eyes traveled down from your wistful expression to the expose skin of your neck and still wet shirt before he reached up to unbutton the rest of your shirt off.

Clark was in a daze watching your chest rise and fall in front of his face before he quickly latched his lips onto on your nipples and sucked, his tongue lapping up the mixture of your sweat and dried wine on your skin as he focused on the nub.

You threw your arms over Clark’s shoulders, leaning your body forwards in surprise by his attack on your chest as your hips stuttered from the pleasure Clark was giving you.

Clark groaned when he bit down on your nipple, causing a domino effect when you squeezed your hole around his cock in response.

Clark spanked one of your cheeks, making you yelp before he turned his attention to your other nipple.

“Clark, I’m gonna cum.” You whimpered, tugging on the back of his head to pull him off your nipple.

Clark released his mouth from your chest with an audible pop, grinning up at you. “Yeah? The next time we’re doing this, you’ll be cumming with my tongue in your hole. Wouldn’t that be nice, hun?”

“Oh shit.” You panted out before Clark felt your cock twitch in between your bodies as you ejaculated. The hot substance coated your bare abdomen and Clark’s shirt.

Clark followed right after, filling you up with his seed when the force of your own release squeezed his cock so hard that he couldn’t last longer.

You and Clark were breathing heavily in each other’s arms, the cloud of lust slowly dissipated from your minds as reality sank back in.

Clark felt your hands on his face before you kissed him sweetly on the lips, pulling away with a soft smile on your face.

“I can’t believe you let me do this.” You chuckled.

Clark smirked. “Well, I can’t say that I wasn’t in for the ride. The thing with the wine was a nice change though, it was hot.”

“So should I feed you more wine directly from my mouth next time?” You purred in interest, making Clark gulp.

Clark huffed. “Maybe we do it without our clothes on next time if we’re not using the wine glasses.”

“That’s fair, I feel incredibly sticky right now.” You scrunched up your face in disgust as you looked down at some of the red wine stains on your chest.

Clark smiled, patting you once on your cheek. “I think this calls for a good shower.”

You yelped, your hands clung onto Clark as he stood up with ease while you were still on his lap. Your legs immediately wrapped themselves around his waist for a better grip.

“Warn a guy.” You playfully scolded Clark, making him laugh.

Clark pecked you on the lips in apology. “I’m sorry hun. Call it payback for me wanting to spend a nice dinner with you.”

“Fine,” You rolled your eyes as Clark manoeuvred into the bedroom while still carrying you. “Next time, I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

Clark put you down in front of the bathroom and before you could walk in to start the shower, he pulled you back to graze his lips against yours with a teasing smile on his face. “Next time, we’re doing things my way.”

*****

Author’s note:

Hope y’all don’t mind some short smut with Clark, I do miss him dearly

Intimacy has never been a problem for you and Sylus.

Your sex lives could be described as beyond healthy. Seemingly not a day goes by where you and Sylus aren't all over one another in some way, shape, or form. One would think the spark would have died at least a little bit after all this time you've been together, but it's just as strong — if not stronger — as it was the first time the two of you got tangled up in bed. Overall, everything is wonderful, perfect even.

Well, expect for one little thing.

You see, Sylus cannot, for the life of him, get you get and bothered. I mean, he can certainly get you in the mood, but he can't make your breath hitch or your cheeks flush with his teasing. Try as he might — and believe me, he's tried — Sylus just can't get you to give him the reaction he desires.

What sort of reaction does he want, you might ask? Well, Sylus wants to see you break. He wants to shatter that stone-faced facade and leave you a begging, whimpering mess. That's not too much to ask, is it? Apparently it is, since none of Sylus' attempts to make this fantasy come true have given him his desired result.

Nothing has worked.

Sylus has tried every seduction tactic in the book, but not a single one has ever gotten close to making you break. Yet here he is, trying yet again. This time, Sylus hopes that his soft whispers against your ear and the prodding of his half-hard cock against the curve of your ass will finally crack that impenetrable facade of yours.

"Fuck, look at you, kitten. I could just bend you over and have my eyes with you right here and now. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Ironically, Sylus is the one that comes across as the wanton, needy thing. His warm breaths send goosebumps across your skin as his lips ever so gently graze the shell of your ear. Sylus' lust-clouded mind can't even compute the state that he's in, but if it could, it would certainly laugh at how desperate he currently is.

"You can just ask to have sex if you're in the mood, Sy." Yet again, you respond to his attempts at seduction with that typical deadpan reaction of yours. To anyone else, this would ruin the mood, but it somehow manages to only make him harder. At this rate, Sylus is going to be the one broken and begging.

Lucky for you, that was your plan all along.

It was always obvious to you that your blank responses to Sylus' pursuits turns him on more than he realizes. While you were tempted to bring this to his attention, you decided that it was much more fun to keep teasing him since he seems to love teasing you himself. I mean, it's only fair that he gets a taste of his own medicine, right?

"What's the matter, Sy? Cat got your tongue?" Sylus' eyes roll back in response to the condescending question. It's a bit hard for him to form a thought, let alone fix his lips to speak and problem answer you when you're riding him like it's the last thing you'll ever do.

The fast, steady slap of skin against skin is the only thing aside from pleasure that registers in Sylus' mind. Every sensation is overridden by you. Touch, sound, taste, smell, sight, all of it is consumed by you and Sylus is all too prepared to lose himself in all the sensations.

"Hey, answer me, or I'll stop." That's all it takes for Sylus to snap out of it. You wouldn't be so cruel as to leave him high and dry like this, would you? I mean, you're rock hard and leaking pre all over yourself — you want this just as much as he does, but the look in your eyes tells Sylus that you're dead serious.

"N-no, don't stop. Please, I need you handsome. Need to fill that ass up. Please, you'll let me, won't you?"

You scoffed at the warning perched at the tree line, the sign rusted and peeling but the message still visible: BEWARE: WEREWOLF BREEDING GROUNDS. Werewolves don’t exist! They’re just fictional! Not possible for humans to develop wolf-like characteristics or behaviors—maybe some do, but no way! You rolled your eyes and ignored the sign, treading into the dark, quiet forest.

An unfamiliar warmth and thrill filled your body, particularly your lower region. Maybe it’s because you have a way of getting home early!

“You really shouldn’t be at the forest at night, unless you want something to snatch you up and eat you.” The man grunted, teeth gritting against each other, snarling and growling like beast—a feral werewolf. Your moans and whimpers filled the silent night as you held onto the tree for dear life, nails digging into the thick tree bark.

It was going smooth, nothing until you ran into another man—he was completely naked except for a single piece of cloth wrapped around his waist, but it nothing to hide the massive erection, and my god was it huge. That was the first thing you noticed but you felt his shining, sharp golden eyes boring into your being, examining and sizing you up. A growl echoed from his throat.

His physique was strong and lean, hard edges and divots on his sculpted stomach that tapered to a shape v-line. Toned muscles and pectorals then you noticed the characteristics: wolf tail and ears, sharp claws and teeth, and at the base of his massive dick, a knot.

And that’s how you got in your current position.

Your mind was turning into mush and your body trembled with each thrust. Every nerve was being struck, the massive, thick dick splitting you—reaching depths and you swore that there was a stomach bulge! This was crazy, beyond anything you could imagine! But you were enjoying it, your dick flopping in the air and leaking beads of precum. Your breeding partner was enjoying his time too, nearly collapsing onto your body—his huffing and puffing against your ear and the occasional growl as he humped you.

“Mate.” The man growled, baring his teeth and grazing it against your nape and shoulders. “Breed.” He continued grunting one-liners, his thrust was becoming sloppy and you could feel the knot expanding against your rim—ready to split your already stretched hole!

With a few more thrusts, Valko delivered the final thrust, pushing his knot into your ass and puncturing your skin with his canines as wades of cum squirted from his tip, painting and filling your hole to the brim with his thick seed. Moans and cries of ecstasy slipped through your lips as your dick spurted its load onto the ground, covering the grass and leaves underneath.

The sounds of skin clapping and moans fell to deaths ears. The exception was soft panting and kisses being doted against the open wound.

“Was I too rough? I got lost, I didn’t mean to… come on, gonna get you home.” Valko says, the feral growls and words replaced by tender words and touch. He might’ve gone overboard, biting you wasn’t apart of the plan! Shit, this wasn’t supposed to happen. It wasn’t much blood, but it flowed through the small holes rapidly.

“No, was just perfect…”

A/n —hello, my strawberry patch and the newly added seeds, hope this was good! Maybe I could’ve added more, but mind is running on fumes rn.

You haven’t driven this car in weeks, you honestly miss it. The moment you ease out of the place and onto the road, the GR86 speaks in a different language. The steering feels tighter through your hands. The nose responds instantly, better, like every small input now matters.

The first corner you take tells you everything. The body stays composed, weight transferring with crisp precision instead of that soft lean from before. The brakes bite harder too, firm under your foot, immediate and reassuring as you drive faster.

Meanwhile, Nico pushes himself away from the Shelby and wanders toward the workbench against the wall, casually settling against it. He crosses one ankle over the other and folds his arms, looking entirely too comfortable for a man who just spent the last hour planning an illegal engine swap.

His mouth twitches. “I’m surprised he didn’t beg to use the RX-7 instead.”

Rigo watches the garage entrance for another second before the shutters roll back down. “Probably got intimidated ‘cause it’s an oil guzzler.”

He starts walking toward the workbench. “Also, what’s this I found?” He takes a folder from the side, showing the documents inside. Your registrations.

Nico glances at it, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “You took his registrations?”

Rigo flips through the pages, and a grin slowly spreads across his face. “His registrations?” He holds the papers up between two fingers. “It has your name in it.”

Nico doesn’t say anything, but he stands straighter, hands curling on the edge of the table, and mouth curving into a faint smile with shameless confidence.

“You are one cunning, manipulative bastard, you know that?” Rigo says, his voice full of amusement as he steps closer. “I mean, really? Registering his car under your name?” He stops just inside the other’s personal space.

Nico suppresses any visible reaction, already knowing this conversation will be another game of control between them. “It’s practical.”

“...Practical,” Rigo repeats, dragging the word out like he’s tasting bullshit. He plants one hand on the workbench beside Nico’s hip, leaning in just enough to make the space between them feel charged. “That’s what we’re calling it?” 

Nico shrugs, unbothered. His gaze flicks toward the garage exit where you disappear. “Someone like him isn’t supposed to afford that car. Minimum wage, cheap apartment, no believable reason to suddenly own a tuned sports car.”

His dark eyes slide back to Rigo. “I just made the legal process unquestionable.”

Rigo huffs a laugh. “Yeah, that’s a reasonable excuse, I'll give you that.” His grin widens, “Funny thing is...” He remembers the first car he bought years ago, the memory flashes briefly behind his eyes, “You pulled the exact same move on me.”

“That Dodge Viper,” he continues, voice rougher around the edges, “that’s when I realized owing you favors gets personal.” 

“And?” Nico’s smirk is downright sinful. Provocative, the exact expression of a man who knows he’s guilty and doesn’t care.

“And,” Rigo says, moving in until there’s barely any room left between them, “I know exactly what it all means.” The registration papers are tossed aside, forgotten.

His other hand comes up, bracing itself on the opposite side of the workbench, boxing Nico in. The proximity is undoubtedly intimate. 

Nico doesn’t bother trying to move away. Instead, he tilts his head slightly, studying Rigo with the same nonchalant composure. “It just means I protect my investments.”

“That’s cute.” Rigo shakes his head, and a smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. “You legally own his car,” his voice sounds conversational, as if the topic isn’t a big deal. “You bankroll the parts. You control the liabilities. Hell, if he starts winnin’ enough, you practically own his whole career.”

The implications hang between them. You’re racking up debts without fully realizing the totality of it. Soon enough, Nico might as well own you.

Nico’s smile turns dangerous, dark eyes half-lidded and intense. “I’m simply making sure the money I’m spending on him is worthwhile.”

Rigo’s eyes narrow accusingly. He leans even closer, their noses almost touching, breath ghosting across Nico’s lips. “Being a ruthless businessman really does run in your family, huh?” 

They’re close enough for Nico to make out the tiny scar near Rigo's jaw. Close enough for Rigo to see the darker ring around Nico’s irises beneath the garage lights.

“Don’t make it sound like you didn’t benefit from his wins.” Nico counters, not backing down.

“Oh, I did. Never hid that fact.” Rigo’s hand finds Nico’s waist. The touch is entirely too familiar to be casual, entirely too natural to be new.

Nico’s gaze drops briefly to the hand before lifting back to meet Rigo’s eyes. Neither of them looks away even as it starts to rain again outside.

“You know,” Rigo says, “he could technically pay you back now thanks to me.” He looks at the other knowingly. “But you don’t actually want the debt gone.”

For the first time, Nico’s composure falters when Rigo moves forward til there’s no space left between them. Nico can feel the solid planes of Rigo’s body against him, feel the warmth radiating from him, feel every breath he takes. Every small movement brings them fractionally closer, neither willing to be the one who yields ground first.

“You like keeping strings attached.” Rigo leans even closer, voice dropping lower. “You just wanna keep a new toy around.” Someone exactly like you, obedient enough to agree with Nico’s whims and interesting enough to make it entertaining more than once. Unlike Rigo, who refuses to go down without a fight.

Nico’s smirk returns instantly, sly and challenging. “Sounds like jealousy.”

Rigo laughs under his breath, the sound is warm and raspy. “Why would I be jealous?” His fingers flex against Nico’s waist, tracing the curve of it. The movement is absent-mindedly possessive.

“I already got my turn.” His mouth drifts toward Nico’s neck, lips grazing his skin. “And I can have you anytime I want.”

“Are you seriously doing this right now?” Nico leans back before Rigo’s teeth can make contact.

The movement feels more teasing than rejecting, an invitation wrapped in defiance. It encourages him, Rigo follows easily. “You keep provoking me since you’ve arrived today,” his grin turns wicked as he glares at him, “And now you don’t like that you’re losing.”

The accusation isn’t entirely unfair. Nico has been doing it all afternoon, distracting him, standing a little too close, and acting like he has no idea why Rigo is becoming increasingly irritated. The mood shifts, but the teasing remains. A shared history. Old habits, old memories.

Normally, Nico wouldn’t have let this happen, being the one at a disadvantage now. He glances once toward the closed entrance. “He’ll be back soon.”

Rigo’s smile only deepens. “So?” His hand tightens just slightly at Nico’s waist, fingers roaming slowly over the fabric of his shirt. “Let him watch.”

“Outrageous.” Nico lets out a chuckle, filled with disbelief and amusement, yet he still doesn’t push him away.

“I don’t see the problem with that,” Rigo’s words are quiet and low. His grip shifts, hand sliding around to Nico’s back, pulling him in. “Matter of fact, I’d love to see his reaction.”

Nico exhales through his nose, but makes no move to resist. “Have some self-control.” His hands remain on the edge of the workbench. “You’re insufferable,” he says, but no displeasure accompanies his tone.

“You started this,” Rigo presses closer, lips hovering just above Nico’s. “And I know you’ll let me fuck you anyway,” he murmurs, lips curling into an arrogant smirk.

“You wish I’d let you,” Nico lets out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying this. “But I think you look better squirming beneath me instead.”

“That so?” Rigo’s fingers dig into Nico’s hips, pulling him even closer until there’s no mistaking the heat growing between them. “Then prove it.”

Nico’s smirk widens. He studies Rigo’s face, taking in the dark eyes gleaming with challenge, the slight flush creeping up his neck. He lifts a hand slowly, brushing his fingers along Rigo’s jaw before his grip moves to the back of his head. “Make me,” he dares, voice a husky murmur that carries an undeniable temptation. 

Rigo’s breath catches, eyes fluttering briefly before refocusing with renewed intensity, and he closes the remaining distance. Their lips meet, and the kiss deepens immediately, tongues tangling in a familiar dance.

Waiting for the pizza took longer than the back-and-forth drive. By the time you come back, the rain has gotten stronger. The new suspension absorbs the uneven road, and the new brakes scrub speed effortlessly even if the pavement is wet.

The warm smell of melted cheese and meat fills the cabin as you guide the GR86 outside the garage.

You kill the engine, balancing the two hot pizza boxes in one hand as you rush to the other side, where the bay doors are half open.

“Oi, why did you close the shutters? You wanna leave me out in the rain—” you pause, eyes widening. Your pulse is hammering for reasons that have nothing to do with driving fast. 

They’re standing close. Too close. Too intimate. 

Then Nico’s gaze lifts past Rigo’s shoulder and lands on you. His hands, still tangled in Rigo’s hair, fingers tightening for a second before loosening. His expression remains calm, head tilted just enough to keep the space charged with unresolved sexual tension. Their appearance is slightly disheveled, their faces are inches apart, and it has your mind running wild.

He doesn’t even look surprised. The faint curve of his mouth says he noticed you the moment the GR86 rolled outside.

Rigo has him pinned against the edge of the workbench, hands around him in a possessive way. Without breaking eye contact with you, he places a hand against Rigo’s chest and gives him a light push, not enough to be rejection but enough to reclaim his personal space.

Honestly, looking back, it probably should’ve been obvious. It explains way too many things, the way Rigo somehow always knows where Nico is, the way Nico lets Rigo get away with things that would’ve earned literally anyone else a punch to the face. So Vera was right after all.

“Took you long enough,” Nico says, pushing off the bench and walking toward you like nothing about what you just saw requires explanation.

Rigo straightens, crossing his arms with zero shame, tattooed arms flexing as he leans back against the workbench now. “Got bored waiting for your slow ass to come back.”

“Should I leave to give you guys some privacy then?” you ask unsure, cheeks already growing warm. Why the hell are you the one embarrassed when they’re the ones who got caught?

Nico doesn’t even look up from the pizza box as he takes it from your hands and opens the lid to inspect the toppings. “No,” he replies casually. “We were just finishing up our conversation.”

“Right...” you mutter. “Conversation.” The word drips with skepticism. You set the second pizza box down on the nearest workbench and fold your arms. You avoid meeting their eyes. “So am I supposed to ignore what I just saw?”

“Yeah.” Rigo answers without hesitation, a grin tugs at the corner of his mouth as he watches your expression. “Unless you want in?”

Your brain attempts to assemble a response and completely fails. “I—what—?!” Your face burns red. How are you even supposed to respond to that? I mean, you’re not exactly opposed to the idea... Oh God, you can’t believe you’re seriously considering it.

Rigo immediately starts laughing. “Hah! You should see how stupid you look right now.”

“S-Shut the fuck up! Have some shame!” You turn toward Nico for help.

Big mistake, because he’s standing there already halfway on the first slice of pizza, looking entirely too amused by your embarrassment. The faint smile on his face tells you he’s enjoying this almost as much as Rigo is.

You eventually give up and sit at the workbench because the pizza is getting cold, and arguing with these two is pointless, they’ll twist reality itself before admitting anything.

Surprisingly, it doesn't feel awkward afterwards, even if you can’t shake the feeling that you’re intruding on something that existed long before you came along. Maybe it’s because they’re so unabashed about it, and after spending so much time around them, you’re beginning to realize this dynamic has always been there. 

Nico leans back against the couch as if the weather itself is part of the discussion while his eyes track the rain through the opening. 

“We should go out in this,” he says, not as a suggestion so much as a decision that has already been made somewhere in his head.

You glance toward the half-open shutters, then back at him. “In this awful storm?” you ask, watching another wave of water spill down the metal outside like a curtain.

“Especially in this storm,” Nico replies, “Rain doesn’t cancel anything that matters,” and then finally looks back at you. “It just exposes how good your driving skills really are.” 

“Can I digest the food first? I’m too full to move,” you complain, stalling because you really don’t want to drive fast in the rain and possibly lose your life by slamming into a wall.

Rigo chuckles, “grown ass man whining like a child by the way.”

“Shut up! I don’t wanna hear that from you of all people,” you groan, dragging a hand down your face.

Nico folds his arms. “The next time you have to push a car in bad weather isn’t going to happen on a practice day,” he says. “The first time you hydroplane shouldn’t be during a race or a police chase.”

“That’s a fair point,” you admit. Getting arrested is better than a chase in these conditions. 

You just finished an entire night of training in the rain, and it was the worst experience ever considering you hydroplaned. You could’ve died, and since you’re a bit traumatized now, Nico invited you to stay the night at his place because it’s closer.

The two of you head toward the door leading into the house. Outside, the night has settled into an unusual stillness after the storm, the cool air carrying the lingering scent of rain-soaked earth.

You walk beside Nico in comfortable silence, the events of the night replay themselves in your mind, your thoughts keep circling back to something else. 

Ever since you walked in on them carrying those pizzas, you’ve found yourself replaying that image over and over despite your best efforts not to. It explains far too many things in hindsight, the familiarity between them with the kind of trust that can only exist after years of knowing someone.

The curiosity nags at you long enough that, eventually, you decide to ask. You clear your throat, glancing sideways at Nico as the door closes behind you.

“Can’t believe I never noticed that you and Rigo are...” The sentence trails off awkwardly, mostly because you aren’t entirely sure what word you’re looking for.

Partners? Dating? Friends with benefits? Situationship? None of them seem to fit what you’ve witnessed.

Nico doesn’t look surprised about your question. The corner of his mouth lifts ever so slightly, as though he’d been expecting the question ever since you caught them.

“We never really bothered defining it.” The answer comes so naturally that you believe him.

He shrugs, slipping his hands into his pockets as you follow him inside. “He’s free to do whatever he wants.” He glances at you over his shoulder, “and so am I.”

You nod. Oddly enough, that makes perfect sense, considering your own relationship with him has never exactly followed conventional rules either.

It isn’t all that different from what you’ve come to expect from him. Nico has never seemed interested in putting labels on things, preferring to let people exist in his life without trying to force them into neat little categories. 

Still, you can’t help smiling. “You know, it’s actually kind of funny.” A short laugh escapes you. “Your connection with him has lasted longer than most marriages last these days.” 

The faintest smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “I guess you’re right.” 

The house is peacefully quiet when the two of you make it upstairs. Nico walks ahead with the same unhurried pace he always carries, one hand sliding casually into his pocket before he nods toward the hallway. “The guest room is the second door on the left.”

You follow his gaze. “Got it.” You barely manage two steps before you feel fingers wrap gently around your wrist.

“Hmm?” You stop and turn to him.

Nico doesn’t say anything, he gives your hand the slightest tug, redirecting you to the door into his room. You follow automatically, your pulse picking up from the implications.

When the door clicks softly shut behind you. Your throat suddenly feels dry. Your mind begins filling in possibilities faster than common sense can catch up. He lets go of your hand, and you’re left standing in the middle of the room, dumbfounded.

“Tonight was fun.” He says, walking over to the glass windows leading to the balcony and closing the curtains. 

You cross your arms as you watch him move. “Getting the life scared out of me was fun?”

“For me it was.” He replies, clearly entertained.

You let out an exasperated breath, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable.”

His eyes settle back on you, the teasing fades with each step he takes towards you. “One day,” he says, his voice carrying the same certainty he brings to everything he believes in, “I want you to line up beside me and know that if you beat me—”

A faint smile appears, “You earned it.”

For a second, all you can do is stare at him. Ever since you entered the underground scene, that finish line has existed somewhere impossibly far ahead of you. Nico has always seemed untouchable, a benchmark rather than a rival, someone you chased but never truly expected to catch.

Yet hearing him say it feels like an encouragement and a prophecy at the same time.

Your chest feels tight. “I...” You trail off, laughing softly because you don’t know how else to respond. What he just said is something you’ve always wanted, you want to become the driver who can make Nico look over from the next lane and wonder if this is finally the race he might lose in.

“You’re setting the bar pretty high,” you state, giving him a genuine smile.

“I know.” His smile grows enough to soften the edges of his usually unreadable expression. “And I think you’ll get there.”

Your heart has survived near collisions, police chases, six-figure races, and nearly hydroplaning across an entire highway, but somehow, those simple words affect you far more than any of them.

Nico studies your reaction before a small smirk forms on his lips. “You were shaking back there.”

Heat instantly creeps into your face. “I almost sent us into oncoming traffic. We could’ve died.”

“But we didn’t.” He closes the remaining distance between you until you’re standing only a breath apart. Close enough that you can see the tiny reflections from the bedside lamp dancing in his dark brown eyes, close enough to feel the warmth of his breath on your face.

“You were terrified,” he says, with a hint of amusement. “It was kind of adorable.”

You scoff in the most offended way. “I was having a near-death experience.”

“But you still did everything I told you.” His hand finds your face, thumb caressing your cheekbone.

“For that, I think you deserve a reward.”

Before you can think of a response, he leans in the rest of the way. The kiss is slow enough that it leaves no room for surprise, giving you every chance to pull away if you want to.

You never do of course, leaning into him and angling your face to deepen the kiss. Your arms automatically wrap around his neck, and he responds by pressing closer, the lines of his body meeting yours as his free hand wraps around your waist.

Nico guides you backward until the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed, and then he’s pushing you down onto the mattress. He kneels between your legs, the weight of his body settling over you. This reminds you of the first time you two did this, which felt like ages ago.

His hands make quick work of your shirt, peeling it off your torso. The cool air hits your bare skin, raising goosebumps along your arms and chest. You watch him sit up, taking his jacket and shirt off, the fabric sliding off his shoulders to reveal the defined muscles of his body.

When he leans back down, you grab his shoulder and pull him into another kiss, teeth grazing your lips as you push your tongue against his. His fingers tighten in your hair as he grinds his hips against yours, letting you feel the outline of his cock already stiffening in his pants. Your hands roam over his skin, tracing the muscles on his back.

He moves lower, dragging his teeth along your collarbone, his fingers cup around you through your pants, squeezing right before he pops the button of your jeans open. His hand slips beneath the waistband of your underwear, and the first brush of his fingertips against your erection makes your breath catch. The heat of his hand wrapping around your length makes your hips twitch, your pulse already thrumming beneath his touch.

You gasp as his grip tightens, sliding with practiced ease over you. He watches your reactions knowingly, already aware of what riles you up, dark eyes glinting with lust as he strokes you slowly. His other hand moves to grip your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“You’re always so eager,” Nico murmurs knowingly, his voice low with barely restrained desire.

You nod, a soft moan of confirmation leaving your mouth. His thumb traces your bottom lip, and you dart your tongue out instinctively, licking at the pad seductively while you stare into his eyes. His breathing hitches slightly, you watch his pupils dilate, the intensity of his gaze as he watches your mouth.

“That’s right,” he whispers sensually, releasing your chin only to undo the button of his pants with a quick flick of his fingers. “You know what I want.” 

Your tongue darts out again, wetting your lips in preparation as Nico tugs his pants down. He moves away, resting against the headboard with his legs spread invitingly, watching you position yourself between his thighs. He runs his fingers through your hair, his grip firm as he guides you closer. His musk surrounds you, clean sweat, subtle cologne, something uniquely him. 

You don’t hesitate, lips parting to take him into your mouth, your tongue flattening against the underside of his shaft as you slowly descend to savor the taste. Nico groans, his fingers tightening in your hair as you swallow around him, his hips flexing slightly to push deeper.

“That’s it,” he says in approval. “Good boy.” The praise sends a shiver down your spine, he didn’t praise you like this last time.

His free hand grips the sheets as you suck him, bobbing your head while sucking. You can feel every vein on your tongue, feel every twitch, and the subtle noises he’s making are urging you on. His grip on your hair tightens, guiding you in a rhythm that pleases him. 

His breathing grows heavier as you swirl your tongue around the tip, applying just the right amount of suction going down while you look into his eyes.

Suddenly, you hear the door open behind your bent-over form, and you stiffen, face flushing red even more. 

Nico’s grip on your hair keeps your head down when your try to pull away. His cock remains in your mouth, pulsing against your tongue, but his attention shifts to acknowledge the newcomer.

“You started already?” Rigo says, casually stepping into the room like he owns the place and locking the door behind him. He watches Nico thrust into your mouth for a second, admiring the glorious view.

“Ever heard of knocking?” Nico replies wryly, giving him a knowing smirk.

You hear Rigo chuckle, the sound is amused but edged with something darker. “If you didn’t want me here, you shouldn’t have texted me to come and then purposely left the door open.” He takes his shirt off while strolling towards you.

Then you feel the bed dip. Rigo’s presence looms behind you, his fingers hook into the waistband of your pants, tugging them down just enough to expose your ass. Nico remains seated against the headboard, still buried deep in your throat.

“He’s good at that, ain’t he?” his rough hands run all over your exposed skin, watching Nico fuck your mouth. 

“Very,” Nico agrees, eyes meeting yours while his hips thrust into your mouth. His fingers flex in your hair, guiding your movements with the same ease he navigates every race with. 

“He doesn’t listen, but takes direction just fine.” Rigo grins wickedly, “his annoying mouth is more useful like that.”

One hand reaching around to wrap around your length, thumb rubbing the sensitive head and smearing the precum already beading there. “And look at this, already dripping for us like a fuckin’ slut.”

“Nngghh—” You moan around Nico, the vibrations in your throat traveling to cock, making his breathing stutter. His grip tightens as he pushes himself deeper into your throat, almost making you choke. Rigo’s rough fingers work you in slow, teasing strokes, his free hand gripping your bare ass hard enough to bruise.

“Damn,” Rigo says while hunching over your back, his hot breath tickling your ear as he strokes you faster. “Bet you’re thinking about how full you’re gonna be, huh? Both of us stretching you out.”

Nico finally releases you, letting you pull back and breathe. You sit up panting and grab Rigo’s wrist to slow him down. You glare at him over your shoulder, “W-Why am I always the one being bullied like this?” You turn to Nico, “You’re both assholes!” 

Nico lets out a low chuckle at your sudden reluctance, his fingers trace your jaw, your lips glistening with spit and precum. “You seemed to like it a minute ago.”

Rigo smirks against your nape, teeth nipping at your skin. “Pretendin’ you don’t like it ‘cause I’m here?” He presses himself against your back while his grip on your cock tightens, reminding you that you can’t hide your arousal. “It’s too late to feel embarrassed now.”

Your body responds before your mind can fully process it, twitching in his hand, your ass pressing back against him involuntarily. You gasp, feeling the heat of his body and his desires even through his jeans.

With a hand pulling your hair, Rigo tugs your head at an angle where he can kiss you, stubble grazing your skin. It’s hot, demanding, and messy when he pushes his tongue into your mouth, the taste of Nico still lingers on you, but he doesn’t seem to mind. This is the kind of kiss that leaves you dizzy and begging for more.

All the while, you feel Nico’s lips on your neck, leaving marks on your tender flesh. His hands roam your chest, fingers tweaking your nipples in a way that makes your back arch and cling to him for balance.

Your attempt to save face was in vain. Why is it always you being subjected to such treatment? It’s unfair, but part of you can’t deny that having their lavish attention solely on you feels like the fulfillment of a fantasy you never dared admit out loud. Yet your thoughts are hopelessly conflicted, by the way they’re determined to pull you in opposite directions, praising and degrading you at the same time.

When you pull apart, Rigo pushes you back down between Nico’s thighs. He strips your pants off completely, giving one hard slap on your ass and making you audibly gasp. He chuckles at your reaction, his hand rubbing where he spanked you, soothing the sting as his other hand dips between your legs.

“You like that, don’t you?” he taunts, pressing a single lube-slicked finger against your hole, applying enough pressure to make your muscles tighten in anticipation while Nico guides you back down onto him when you try to speak.

“I’m going in first since you started without me,” He says to Nico, who pushes himself back into your mouth.

“Mhm,” Nico hums, still reclining comfortably on the bed, his hand lazily stroking your head as you swallow around him. “Not my fault you took so long to get here,” he tells Rigo, voice casual despite the fire in his eyes. His fingers tighten slightly in your hair, a silent command keeping you where you are.

Rigo sinks a finger into you, testing the resistance and your muscles clench around the intrusion. After a while, he adds another, curling them slightly as he scissors them apart, drawing a muffled groan from your throat. His free hand grips your hip, his blunt nails digging in just shy of painful. Finally, he adds a third one when you get used to it, twisting it inside, stretching you enough to make your breathing falter when he finds your prostate.

“Hmmm...” You moan around Nico’s cock, the vibration sends a shudder through his body. He tightens his grip on your hair, thrusting his hips up slightly to push it all the way in and almost making you gag. Your nose brushing against the trimmed patch of hair on him.

“Such a good boy,” he breathes out, watching your face contort with pleasure and desperation when you look up at him with bleary eyes. He lets you off, giving you a break before grabbing your face with both hands and hunching down to kiss you again. He doesn’t care even if he can taste himself on your tongue.

Meanwhile, Rigo pulls his fingers out, leaving you feeling empty and needy. You feel him shuffle behind you, taking everything off before you hear the slick sound of him coating his length with lube before he lines himself up with your entrance, pressing forward slowly.

“Ahhh!!” You gasp, muscles fluttering around his girth when he applies steady pressure, working himself in inch by inch.

He groans, the sound rough as he sinks deeper. “Fuckin’ tight,” he mutters, savoring the tight warmth your body offers, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks. The stretch burns, a mix of pain and pleasure that leaves you moaning.

Nico watches your expression with dark, hungry eyes, his grip on your hair tightening as Rigo finally sheathes himself fully inside you. To him, you look incredibly hot right now, your eyes fluttering close, mouth agape as breathless noises slip past your swollen lips, your face flustered, hair tussled, body quivering and covered in sweat.

Rigo only gives you a few moments before he starts moving slowly. Nico gives you another kiss before pushing you back down on all fours, and you open your mouth instinctively as if you’ve been conditioned to do so, lapping at him from the base up before taking him in your mouth.

You feel Nico slip down your throat again, his fingers tightening in your hair to control the pace, moving your head the way he wants, pushing deeper when he knows you can handle taking more.

At the same time, Rigo begins to set a punishing rhythm behind you, each thrust snapping your body forward towards Nico, impaling you on both ends. The air in the room grows heavy with sweat, every sound raw and unfiltered, the slap of skin against skin mingling with your muffled whimpers and gurgled moans. 

“Fuck yeah,” Rigo growls, his hands sliding up to grip your shoulders. He pulls you back onto him harder, using your shoulder as leverage. 

You feel wrecked already, Rigo’s thick girth splitting you open. His pace becomes relentless, each push punches the air from your lungs, tip grazing your prostate each time. You try to breathe around Nico’s length, but the force of Rigo’s movements makes it nearly impossible to focus. Your arms shake uncontrollably, fingers digging into the sheets, barely holding yourself up under their combined assault.

Nico gasps above you, his hips rolling to push deeper into your throat. His free hand strokes down your cheek before gripping your jaw, holding you still as he thrusts. Drool leaks down the corners of your mouth while you let him.

“That’s it, ah...keep looking at me,” he moans, staring into your teary eyes. “You’re doing so well for us.”

“Look at you,” Rigo groans, “Taking both of us like a proper slut.” One hand moving to grip your neglected cock that’s been steadily leaking the entire time, twitching needily in his grasp. 

It’s filthy, you should feel like a cheap whore submitting to them and getting used like this, but the pleasure you’re feeling is so intense that you don’t care anymore. All you know is that you love the feeling, love every second of their attention and you don’t want it to end.

When Rigo hits that spot inside you repeatedly, your knees nearly give out, and all it takes is a few firm strokes to your length for you to cum. Your body convulses, back arching, eyes fluttering close as you spill your load to the sheets beneath you. Rigo’s harsh grip continues to milk your orgasm from you until you go soft.

“So good...” Nico gasps, plunging deeper. Your throat constricts around him, and your moans make it feel so much better for him.

Your body feels oversensitive from your sudden orgasm, you feel spent, overwhelmed, yet they won’t let up. If anything, they feel more punishing to your hypersensitive body. Each snap of Rigo’s hips drives his shaft deeper inside you, each movement making your muscles clamp around him instinctively, causing you to whimper around Nico, and tears start falling down your cheeks. The stretch is familiar now, your body adjusting to his presence even as your muscles still flutter around them in aftershocks from your orgasm.

After what feels like ages, you feel Nico throbbing on your tongue, and his breathing gets heavier. His eyes locked on your face and your reactions, sweat dripping from his temples.

A guttural groan escapes him as he nears his own climax. He throws his head back, muscles tensing, and finally his cum spills hot into your mouth. You choke slightly, his cum coating your tongue and spilling past your lips as he holds you still. You swallow instinctively, but he doesn’t pull out immediately, making you take every last drop.

“You took that well,” he pants, stroking your hair as he slowly softens in your mouth. When he pulls out, you finally allow your arms to give out. You collapse forward, leaning onto his thigh as he runs his fingers through your sweat-dampened hair. “Good boy.”

“Yeah, a good little slut,” Rigo smirks behind you, “but this is just the start.” With a hand around your stomach, he pulls you up against his chest. His grip on your waist is ironclad, holding you upright while he shifts position behind you.

You’re too sensitive now, every touch is almost painful, making your body twitch.

You squirm, oversensitive and exhausted, but his hands tighten instantly, keeping you in place. “C’mon, you can take it,” he chuckles darkly, dragging his blunt nails down your sides. Every touch is overwhelming, yet you crave it anyway. The friction burns, but the way he jerks inside you drowns out the pain. You can feel his toned muscles against your back again, and with this new angle, he rams your prostate head-on. 

“Ah—fuck!” The impact sends a sharp shock through your body, your breath stuttering as he drives into you again and again. Each shove slowly turns your brain into mush, the overstimulation is insane.

“Still…so fuckin’...tight,” Rigo pants against the side of your neck, biting the flesh before soothing it with a slow drag of his tongue. His hips roll forward, sinking him deeper inch by inch, and the stretch of him is exquisite.

By the time he’s close, your mind is already gone, your head falling backwards on his shoulder. You feel his movements falter, his fingers digging into your flesh as he groans. His cock swells inside you, as he reaches his climax. Hot cum floods into you, filling you as he pushes his hips forward to bury himself completely. He stays like that for a moment, panting against your shoulder, a bit of his release drips from your hole.

Rigo’s sweat-slicked skin sticking to yours as he exhales heavily against your back. “Ahh, that was good,” he mutters, voice thick with satisfaction. He pulls out slowly, his cum spilling out of you. You would have collapsed forward if he hadn’t held you up.

He smirks, pulling you into his lap instead, “You always look like you’re about to pass out every time you get fucked.” He chuckles, “As if I ain’t the one doin’ all the work.” 

You don’t even have the energy to respond to his teasing.

Meanwhile, Nico is reclining over the pillows, watching you two while lazily stroking himself, and from the way he’s looking at you, you know this is far from over. It’s going to be a long night.

♡♡♡♡♡

And you were right because after letting you rest, they switched places.

You feel so incredibly filthy, covered in sweat and your own spent smeared on your abdomen. You thought that since Nico had been giving you praises all night, he would have been nicer and more merciful. But no, he might be a bit worse because now you’re on your back, practically sobbing as he drives into you with slow but deep thrusts, reaching spots you didn’t know were possible.

His hands are on the back of your knees, pushing your legs up near your chest. It’s such an embarrassing position that exposes you completely to his gaze. As if it’s not degrading enough to have Rigo cum on your face and forbid you from wiping it off. Maybe this is masochism because feeling this pathetically helpless and vulnerable shouldn’t feel so damn good.

Even so, you mindlessly turn your head to mouth at Rigo’s half-hard cock, sloppily lapping at the tip with a dazed expression and whimpering every time Nico pushes forward roughly. A mix of saliva and cum dripping down the corner of your mouth.

“I think we broke him,” Rigo grins, admiring how pretty this version of you is right now, pliant and obedient without your usual swagger and unable to argue. He runs a hand through your sweat-dampened hair, his touch both gentle and possessive, given what he put you through all night.

“He loves it,” Nico mutters, and he’s right because somewhere during the entire session you were begging for more despite yourself. You’re moaning something incoherently, you don’t even know what you’re trying to say. Please slow down? Please more? You have no idea. He rams you one last time before he shoots his load inside, filling you once more. 

“Nngh...” Your whole body shudders as heat floods inside you, his thick length still pulsing as he stays buried deep. His hands remain on the back of your knees, fingers pressing into the soft flesh, staring at you with dark, heavy-lidded eyes.

“Fuck,” he exhales, the sound rough and satisfied. You’re trapped beneath him, still pinned, your muscles tight and fluttering as if milking him for more. It’s a delicious kind of discomfort, the way your body struggles to accept him even as he softens inside you. One hand drags along your inner thigh almost absently while he breathes deep, regaining his composure.

♡♡♡♡♡

You were almost asleep, face buried into a pillow, your body sore and exhausted. Too tired to care that you feel sticky and dirty until Rigo’s rough hand slides across your hip. You’re a fool to think it was finally over when they left you to rest the second time.

“Already out of it, huh?” His breath is hot against your ear as he nips your earlobe. “That’s cute. But we’re not done with you yet.” His arm loops around your waist, pulling you back against him so your ass grinds against his growing erection.

You don’t consider yourself to be small and light for a man, but the way Rigo can pick you up and make it look effortless is concerning. His hands slide under you, lifting you like you weigh nothing at all. 

The second he pulls you upright, you feel his cock, thick and already hard against your ass, pressing into the slickness he left behind from before. He shifts his grip, one arm wrapped around your waist to hold you in place while the other hand comes up to tilt your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“Look at me,” he orders, voice low. He grins wide when he sees the fucked-out look on your face, sees the way your breath hitches when he rubs the tip of his cock against your ass, smearing the fluids seeping out of you. 

Nico kneels in front of you, Your body trembles as Rigo’s grip tightens, his fingers digging into your waist as he holds you against him. Nico’s hand grips your jaw, tilting your face toward him, his other hand still teasing your length, coaxing you to hardness again. 

“You can take both of us now, can you?” He murmurs, breath warm against your ear, but the question sends a fresh tremor through you.

It turns out the first couple of rounds were only to loosen you up to take both of them.

Rigo’s cockhead prods your hole, still slick from the lube and their combined cum release still seeping from you. The movement makes him slide against your entrance, teasing without breaching.

You let out a shaky breath, still trying to process how they can keep going when you’re already ruined. Nico’s fingers wipe the smear of cum on your cheek affectionately. “Easy,” he murmurs. “We’ll go slow. You’ll take us both, I know you can.”

Behind you Rigo shifts, adjusting his grip to hold the back of your knees and spreading your legs wide to make space for Nico. You’re spread open for them, legs draped over Rigo’s arms, back flushed against his chest. 

Nico lines himself up, already fully hard and coated with more lube, insistent and demanding, your body yields easily after everything. He pushes inside, sinking into your still-sensitive hole in one smooth motion.

“Fuck,” your voice coming out as a breathy whisper, fingers scrambling at Rigo’s arms for purchase. Your body jerks involuntarily as Nico completely fills you again. 

Rigo chuckles behind you, his breath hot against your ear. You feel him nudge at your rim, and your breath hitches. 

“T-too much,” you whimper. You don’t think you can fit both of them at the same time. “You guys are gonna kill me...” Your voice is raspy from all the abuse your throat has gone through.

“You can take it. We made sure of that,” Rigo’s voice is rough with lust. He presses the thick head of his cock against your already filled hole. He teases you, rocking his hips slightly to apply just enough pressure to make you squirm and clench. “Be a good slut and open up.”

Nico leans closer, licking a stripe up your neck. “That’s it, baby,” he reassures, “You’re doing so well, just relax and let him in.” His hands roam your body, soothing and encouraging as Rigo inches his way inside. He watches with dark fascination, holding your waist steady as Rigo starts to push in, the obscene stretch making your eyes water.

“Ahh—Nggh!” Your teeth sink into the soft part of Nico’s shoulder, trying to muffle your cries. The stretch burns, it’s intensely overwhelming and borderline painful. Rigo moves carefully, savoring every moment he pushes slowly inside you. You’ve never felt this full, your entire body is trembling uncontrollably.

Nico’s pupils are dilated while watching you struggle to accommodate both of them, his hands firm but gentle on your waist, holding you still for Rigo since you keep squirming reflexively.

“Damn, you’re even tighter like this,” Rigo growls against your ear as he finally bottoms out inside you, his hips flush against your ass. His grip tightens on your legs, holding you perfectly still as he gives you a long time to adjust. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, your nails digging into his arms.

Nico’s fingers trace the edge of your face, turning your head to meet his gaze. His expression is dark with need. “You look so beautiful like this,” he says tenderly before licking the tear that spilled down your cheek.

“Knew you could handle it,” Rigo rasps against your ear, breathing heavily while holding himself back. “Look at you taking both of us like the perfect slut.” He pulls you back against him as he starts to move in slow, rolling thrusts. The friction is intense, both of them stretching you beyond anything you’ve experienced before.

They’re moving simultaneously, when one pushes inside, the other moves out halfway, keeping you constantly full while they rub against each other.

“A-Aahhh—!” Your eyes roll back as broken moans leave your lips. The dual penetration burns like hellfire, but the overwhelming fullness sends lightning through your body, and soon the pain gives way to the most intense pleasure you’ve ever felt. It feels like you’ve been ruined for anyone else now. 

You can feel both of them throbbing inside, your body involuntarily squeezing them both rhythmically, and you know they can feel each other too in the most intimate way.

Nico’s free hand grips your hip, helping Rigo set the rhythm as they work in tandem to fuck you open slowly. He’s panting, fingers digging into your skin where he holds you.

“Fuck, this feels…amazing," Rigo gasps against your shoulder, his breath hot and uneven. His fingers dig into your skin as he adjusts his angle, making both of them rub against your prostate in a way that your vision blurs.

Nico leans down to press his mouth against yours, his tongue sliding over yours. The friction builds, two thick cocks filling you, stretching you, owning you in a way that leaves no room for thought. Nico breaks the kiss, panting against your neck. “That’s it,” he murmurs, voice rough and inconsistent. “Take both of us…like a good fucking boy.”

“The best,” Rigo lets out a breathless laugh, his rhythm faltering as he feels your body tighten around him. Their praise barely registers with you, your mind is starting to go blank. Broken, incoherent moans leave your lips.

Nico’s hand slides down your stomach, wrapping around your cock, starting to stroke at the same pace they’re going and making you writhe. The dual stimulation is overwhelming, his fingers working your length while both of them fuck you in perfect synchronization. His fingers are working your shaft with just the right amount of pressure to keep you needy, your precum steadily spilling over his fingers.

They’re pacing changes, now they’re moving in and out at the same time, making you cry out into Nico’s shoulder. Rigo’s hands clamp down on your thighs, holding you up as he and Nico thrust together, stretching you impossibly wide with every dual movement. The sting of it is unbearable, but beneath it is an unbearable pleasure, every nerve ending alight as they claim you. Nico’s fingers tighten around your cock, his strokes matching their thrusts now, keeping you right on the edge.

You don’t think you can last much longer. The relentless pace of their double penetration becomes too much for your battered body to handle. Rigo’s cock bottoms out inside you, his hips snapping forward as he chases his climax. Nico matches his rhythm, his own cock plunging in tandem with him, stretching you to your absolute limit. Your body trembles violently between them, overstimulated and overwhelmed.

Rigo groans low in your ear, his grip on your hips bruising as he nears his peak. “Fuck, I'm gonna—,” he cut himself off with a moan, his hips pistoning faster. The room fills with wet slaps, harsh breaths.

You cum first, throwing your head back and crying out. The sound of your release echoes off the walls, raw and unfiltered. Your cock erupts in Nico’s grip, painting both of your abdomens white, your body spasms violently as Nico milks the last drops from your spent cock, his grip is merciless even as you twitch from oversensitivity. 

Rigo doesn’t let up either, he uses your weakness against you, driving his thick length even deeper as he feels your muscles squeeze around him. Nico’s grip tightens on you, his movements turning erratic as he chases his own pleasure. They both keep moving inside you, twitching with every spasm of your overworked body. 

They cum almost at the same time, from how tight your internal muscles are clamping down on them. Rigo’s cum floods your insides in thick ropes. He groans into your nape, teeth scraping the sensitive skin there as he ruts shallow thrusts, milking every last drop into your stretched hole. Nico gasps as he follows a moment later, depositing more into you.

By this time, you’ve already gone limp between them.

The bedroom has long since fallen silent.

The storm that had swallowed the city for most of the evening is finally gone, leaving behind streets still glistening beneath rows of amber streetlights. Every now and then, a cold breeze moves through the balcony in contrast to the lingering warmth inside the bedroom.

Rigo stands alone on the balcony, one elbow hooked lazily over the railing as he looks out across the sleeping neighborhood. His blond hair is still damp from the shower, loose strands falling over his forehead while the ends drip occasionally onto the faded black T-shirt he’d clearly left here long ago. Judging by how naturally he slipped into clothes already waiting in Nico’s closet, this is hardly the first time he’s stayed the night.

A cigarette rests between his fingers. The ember glows orange whenever he takes a slow drag, then fades again, smoke curling upward into the clear sky where the stars are finally beginning to reappear now that the clouds have drifted away. He exhales smoke through his nose, eyes half-lidded, looking entirely too comfortable after everything that happened.

Eventually, his attention drifts back inside.

The bedroom is lit only by the bedside lamp, casting everything in warm shades of gold. You’re lying beneath the fresh duvet, one arm thrown carelessly over the pillow after exhausting yourself enough to pass out almost the moment you came. Cleaned up and dressed in one of Nico’s shirts, you look deceptively innocent as if nothing wild happened less than an hour ago. But the dark marks peeking above the collar will take days to fade. 

Rigo’s mouth twitches into a grin. “...Poor bastard.”

The bathroom door slides open. Nico steps out while absentmindedly rubbing a towel through his wet hair, dark strands refusing to stay in place no matter how many times he runs the fabric over them. Another towel hangs low on his hips. He was about to wear clothes when he noticed Rigo staring.

Nico’s gaze drifts toward the bed again, lingering on you for a moment before he exhales through his nose. “You were a little too rough with him.”

Rigo doesn’t even have the decency to look guilty. He takes another slow drag from his cigarette before grinning at the city lights. “We both know he loves getting treated like that.”

“That’s not an excuse.” Nico gives him a sidelong look before pulling a shirt over his head. 

“Didn’t hear him complaining,” Rigo retorts slyly.

“He was too flustered to form complete sentences.” Nico squints at him, “he was literally crying.”

Rigo lets out a satisfied chuckle, rolling the cigarette lazily between his fingers. “Exactly my point. It was hot.” He stares at Nico knowingly, “Gotta check off ‘DP’ from the bucket list now.”

Nico shakes his head, though the corner of his mouth betrays him with the faintest hint of a smile. “Can’t believe you have a bucket list for this.”

His attention returns to the bed where you’re completely buried beneath the blankets, sleeping so deeply that even Rigo’s laughter fails to get so much as a twitch out of you.

Rigo watches you for a second before breaking into another grin. “...He’s gone. I don’t think an earthquake would wake him.”

The room falls quiet for a beat as they both look at your sleeping form. He flicks a bit of ash over the balcony railing before smirking. “Wanna bet how long it takes for him to wake up?”

“No,” Nico answers without missing a beat. “Fix your gambling addiction.”

The steam from the showers fogged up the changing room as Oscar stormed in, still in his racing suit, face tense with fury. He spotted you, dripping wet from champagne spray, hair plastered to your forehead, rinsing off at the sink. For a second, Oscar just stood there. The anger was still boiling… but seeing you, the rival he admired most calmly washing up like nothing happened? It snapped something inside him. Without thinking because right now he didn’t want to think, Oscar kicked off his boots and marched toward you.

You heard the soft click of the lock echoed in the quiet room. Barely had time to turn off the water before you felt Oscar’s presence: hot, intense, and unmistakable. Oscar didn’t say a word. Pure pent-up emotion from being cheated on… months of rivalry on track… and that one electric night two seasons ago they both pretended never happened lingers in his aching chest.

He closed the distance fast, hands cupping your still-damp face and kissed you hard. A messy connection of lips, teeth almost clashing at first as Oscar’s anger finally exploded.

The cold tile met your back as Oscar pressed you firmly against the wall, one hand sliding into your damp hair while the other gripped your hip. The shower steam swirled around you like a private world. Oscar broke the kiss only to trail sharp bites down your jawline before capturing that soft bottom lip again, sucking it gently between his teeth with a quiet growl. It wasn’t gentle. It was claiming without words like: I’m mad at her… I’m not okay and I need you… but this? This feels right. His body caged you in completely, knee nudging between those strong legs of yours and for once on track or off it? He wasn't playing fair.

“What the fuck, Piastri— I’m not a goddamn homewrecker” You huffed. You are perfectly aware of his dating status, you yourself told him not to, but he did anyway and you two stop hooking up. You pushed him back.

Oscar staggered back a step, breath ragged, eyes wide with shock, then flashing with something raw and defensive. The rejection hit harder than any crash on the final lap. He ran a hand through his messy hair, jaw tight. For once, that cool composure cracked completely. He hadn’t expected you to push him away, not like this.

"Right…" Oscar scoffed bitterly under his breath before speaking louder.

"She cheated on me, L/N" The words came out low but fierce, hurt bleeding through the anger now. His chest rose fast as he stared at you, the man who knew every inch of his racing heart… and was now judging him for wanting comfort in chaos.

“She…did?” You stopped in track for a moment. Oscar’s shoulders slumped slightly, the fire in his eyes dimming into something quieter—vulnerable. He nodded once, sharp and bitter.

"Yeah. Found out right after the podium ceremony." he said flatly, voice stripped of its usual calm. "Texts. Photos. With some bloke from her uni." He kicked at a damp towel on the floor with his foot, avoiding your gaze now like it hurt too much to hold it. The silence stretched between them just steam settling and two rivals suddenly standing in a mess neither knew how to fix. You always saw through him… so Oscar didn’t even try lying about why he’d kissed you like that.

The air between you shifted, thicker now, charged with something fragile but undeniable. You hadn’t pulled away completely before… and that gave Oscar the sliver of courage he needed. This kiss wasn’t angry. It wasn’t desperate like the first one. This was softer, slower, almost apologetic in its tenderness as Oscar stepped close again, hands rising to cup your face gently this time. Champagne still glistened on your collarbone from earlier celebrations, sweat clung to your brow under damp curls. The scent of race fuel and citrus body wash mixed together—a familiar combo from their past hookups a few years ago. He kissed you like he used to: deep but careful… testing if you would let it happen.

The fabric peeled away easily: Red Bull team suit damp and heavy from champagne, sticking to your skin like a second layer. Oscar didn’t ask. Didn’t hesitate. He worked quickly, fingers getting the suit with plenty of sponsors’ logos on first, then tugging it down over broad shoulders, letting it drop with a wet plop onto the tiled floor. The undershirt followed: black and clinging to every ridge of muscle. Steam curled around them as more skin was revealed, the kind only seen in private moments or late-night post-race showers when no one else was around. Oscar’s breath hitched slightly, not just from lust now… but because this felt dangerously close to something real again.

The second his own racing suit hit the floor—McLaren fabric pooling around his feet, Oscar was on you again, mouth crashing into that sensitive spot just below your ear. Then he bit down lightly on your neck—not hard enough to mark, not yet, but enough to make you gasp—the kind of bite he gives when he’s mad at the world and needs someone warm to take it out on.

A low sound escaped Oscar as he worked lower: kissing, sucking, grazing teeth along your champagne glistened collarbone… each touch fueled by betrayal, heartbreak… and years of unresolved tension.

The second your hand wrapped around him: firm, confident, no hesitation, Oscar sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. His hips jerked forward instinctively into the touch, craving for more friction. Pure heat and urgency—the kind that comes when you’re emotionally raw and someone knows exactly what to do. You have always been good with your hands… too good for a rival on track or off it. Oscar braced one forearm against the fogged-up wall beside them, eyes fluttering shut as those skilled fingers worked him over with steady pressure, just right and not rushing, not backing off… like you’d done this before…because you both knew damn well you had.

“I told you so” The words hit like a slap—sharp, mocking, and way too accurate. Oscar’s eyes snapped open, his jaw tightening as he glared at you through the steam. He hated that she’d come between them—not just romantically… but even this casual intimacy they used to fall into after races. He hated that he’d chosen something “normal” over whatever wild spark this was. He doesn’t remember why he has stopped hooking up with you to get into a “serious” relationship.

"Yeah? Well I didn’t think she'd cheat." Oscar shot back, voice low but edged with frustration now aimed half at you. A beat passed. The hand on his cock slowed slightly, not stopping but the mood shifted: teasing turning into something heavier. Rivalry again… mixed with everything else.

With surprising strength, sculptured from years of gym sessions and pushing himself to the limit—Oscar hoisted you up effortlessly, pressing you back against the cold, fogged glass wall of the shower stall. The impact made a soft thud, steam swirling around you as your bodies pressed close. The glass was slick with condensation, barely keeping you from slipping—but Oscar held firm, arms hooked under your thighs to keep you pinned.

Oscar crushed his lips onto yours again—harder this time—as if trying to erase everything else that had happened today.

The familiarity hit Oscar like a wave—every sensation, every muscle memory flooding back as he felt your body respond just like before: tight, warm, perfectly in sync with his movements.

Those relentless nights after podiums—private hotel suites at 2 AM. Post-gym sessions where he’d help “stretch” you but ended up tangled on the mats. The time in Monaco when he got caught sneaking out of your hotel suite smelling like hard sex. A shudder ran through him, not just from pleasure now… but nostalgia for what you two used to be before his relationship with the girl and rules complicated things. No words this time. Just motion, the slow push of hips meeting again after months apart and Oscar exhaled sharply through his nose, losing himself completely.

Every ounce of anger, at his cheating girlfriend, at the media circus he knew would come, at how much it still hurt despite trying to be cool about it—Oscar channeled into each rough thrust. The pace was relentless: hard, deep strokes that made the glass wall tremble slightly with every impact. No gentleness. Just raw emotion and physical release, the kind only angry sex like this could provide. Your breath came in short gasps against Oscar’s shoulder as you moved together, skin slick with steam and sweat now rather than champagne or race. The sounds were muffled by his heavy breathing, the slap of skin on skin barely audible over the humming showers nearby. A perfect storm of frustration… comfort… and something dangerously close to old feelings resurfacing. He welcomed it.

“Fuck!—” You gasped out. Oscar knew that spot—the one deep inside you that made you unravel every time he found it. And right now? He wasn’t being gentle about it. The moment he heard that gasp—sharp and surprised he zeroed in, angling his hips just right before driving into it again with brutal precision. Each thrust landed exactly where he wanted, relentless and calculated. Your whimpers hit Oscar like a drug: high-pitched, breathy sounds he hadn’t heard in years. The kind only he could pull from the usually stoic Red Bull driver. A smirk flickered on Oscar’s lips for half a second, not cruel, but satisfied as he kept hammering that sweet spot without mercy.

Your head thudded softly against the glass, your breathing ragged and uneven, each exhale fogging the already hazy surface beside you. Your fingers dug into Oscar’s back, not hard enough to hurt but with clear desperation, leaving faint red trails on his sun-kissed skin. The pale column of your throat was exposed—glistening with sweat, pulse hammering visibly just under the surface. An open invitation. A weakness even rivals couldn’t resist exploiting. Oscar didn’t hesitate. He ducked down and sank his teeth into that tender spot where neck meets shoulder, not biting too deep but firm enough to mark you in a way everyone would see later: teammates whispering “Did you see Y/N today?” and grinning like they knew something.

The bite sent a jolt through you—your whole body tensed, then melted at once. The moan that escaped you was low and broken, vibrating against Oscar’s lips when he pulled back to breathe. The way you clenched around him—tight as hell, rhythmic like waves of pleasure crashing down, it nearly made Oscar lose his rhythm. His hips stuttered for a second before instinct took over again. That squeeze… intentional or not? It felt too good. Like you were deliberately pulling every ounce of sensation from him just by existing. Oscar groaned into the steamy air between you, half frustration at losing control so easily… half pure ecstasy. Oscar growled against your neck, a rough sound and bit down again harder this time before picking up the pace even more: faster thrusts now fueled by both anger... and undeniable desire.

Your thoughts dissolved into static, nothing but sensation now. Every nerve ending was alight, your entire body focused on the relentless pace Oscar set: deep, powerful thrusts that hit exactly where you needed it most. The stretch burned in the best way—a sweet ache you hadn’t felt in years—and each movement sent waves of dizzying pleasure through you both. No coherent thoughts left… just heat and fullness and Oscar’s cock nailing the right spot in you, always Oscar doing this to you like you two were made for this exact rhythm.

Your legs trembled around Oscar’s waist—not from exhaustion but sheer overload. You couldn’t even gasp properly anymore, every breath came out as a whimper or moan.

Oscar’s anger wasn’t gentle—it was fierce, almost punishing in its intensity. Every thrust carried the weight of betrayal, heartbreak, and two years of pent-up longing. The force made your vision blur at the edges. You almost came right then—a sharp gasp tearing from your throat as pleasure coiled tight in your gut—but you clenched your teeth and held on by sheer willpower. Not because you wanted to delay it… but because this felt too good to end yet.

The stretch burned with every snap of Oscar’s hips, sweat dripped down their backs as you moved together like a well-oiled machine despite everything unsaid between you. A dangerous game of holding back when your body is screaming for release.

The sharp crack of Oscar’s palm against your ass echoed faintly in the steamy room—more sound than sting, but enough to send a jolt of delicious shock through you. You arched into it with a broken moan, the pain blooming into warmth almost instantly. The slap wasn’t cruel—just possessive, instinctive. His hand gripping your hip hard to yank you closer for deeper thrusts. A mix of dominance and raw emotion… like every hit carried unspoken words and emotions…like “This is what I feel right now.”

The sudden drag—Oscar pulling all the way out to the very tip before slamming back in with full force—made your whole body jerk. A choked groan tore from your throat, teeth sinking into your own bottom lip to muffle it.

It hurts—just for a split second—but then melted into something electric, addictive. The rough contrast of emptiness followed by sudden fullness was almost too much… and exactly what you both craved right now.

Oscar’s release hit him like a crash—sudden, overwhelming. With a groan muffled against your shoulder, he spilled deep inside you: hot and pulsing with no barrier between you. The intensity of it made his knees wobble slightly, if you two weren’t already braced against the wall—and for those few seconds, everything else vanished: the race results, the cheating girlfriend… All that mattered was this shared breathless moment. Your nails left faint red trails down Oscar’s back—not painful but possessive in their own way—as if marking territory without words.

The orgasm hit you a second later—less explosive but just as intense, flooding through your lower stomach in waves. You gasped softly, back arching slightly as your release painted your own stomach: warm streaks glistening against flushed skin. Oscar stayed pressed close, still catching his breath—chest rising and falling rapidly—as he watched the aftermath with half-lidded eyes.

The kiss was different this time—softer, slower. Not fueled by anger or frustration anymore, but something quieter… gentler. You tilted your head slightly as you leaned in, lips meeting Oscar’s with a tenderness that surprised even yourself. Your hand slid up to cradle the back of Oscar’s neck—fingers brushing through damp brown hair—as your mouths moved together in a tender rhythm.

It’s the warmth and breath mingling between you—the kind of kiss you give someone you’ve missed without realizing it. The steam kept the world outside at bay.

“You’re gonna break up with her?” you asked. The question hung in the air—soft but heavy. Oscar didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned into your touch as those gentle fingers scratched through his hair, a small sigh escaping him. Finally, he nodded against your shoulder before pulling back just enough to meet your eyes.

"Yeah." He said quietly—no anger now, just certainty. "I’m gonna end it tonight" A pause. Then: "She doesn't deserve me anyway." The words were calm… final… like the decision had been made right after Oscar found out.

“Look at you…finally acting like you have a brain” Your teasing smirk barely had time to settle before Oscar’s hand cracked down again—another sharp smack to the same spot, harder this time. Not playful. A real reprimand from a man still simmering with betrayal. The sting made you grunt, more surprised than hurt—but the look in Oscar’s eyes was all fire: wounded pride, rage at being cheated on… and now irritation at being mocked by you, of all people.

"Shut up.” Oscar muttered—low and edged—not even joking—as he keeps you pinned against the wall with his body weight. The spank wasn't sexy right now. It was a warning shot across the bow.

After rinsing off and changing into casual clothes they wore before putting on the suit pre-race earlier. You asked: “Gonna give me your room number?”

Oscar paused with his hand on the door handle, turning slightly to glance back at you. The question caught him off guard—simple but loaded. For a second, he hesitated. They’d just hooked up… they were rivals… and yet here you were asking for his room number like it meant something.

"214" Oscar said evenly. A beat passed before he added quietly. "You wanna come by later?" The invitation hung in the air between them—not as teammates or competitors… but as two guys who maybe hadn’t finished “talking” yet.

“I expect you to be showered and naked on the bed by the time I’m done with team dinner, Piastri. Not even a piece of clothing." You said with full blown confidence.

Oscar’s lips twitched, just slightly at the smirk. That cocky, confident Red Bull energy was back in full force… and damn if it didn’t do something to him. He nodded once, silently accepting your terms: shower first obviously, then naked on his bed by 9 PM sharp. No teasing banter now—they were both professionals at hiding personal stuff around the media. As you disappeared into the sea of reporters flashing cameras and microphones, Oscar exhaled slowly… already anticipating what came next.

Your shoes squeak against the marble flooring of the hallways, a rhythmic pattern following every step you take.

“Hi — !!!”

“Yoo — you still coming to my party Thursday?”

“Your hair clip is so cute today, can I borrow it sometime?”

Relentless chatter fills the hall as you make your way to class. To say you were a “popular kid” would be an overstatement(in your words). You like to say you're more of a token gay, you’ve lived in Forks your whole life and as you developed through puberty you found it easier to express yourself and kill people with kindness than subject yourself to a bigot's box.

Of course, you’ve gotten the occasional slur thrown at you or snickers from behind in the lunch line, but ironically when people are confronted with facing their actions they become a lot more shy than the persona they were displaying.

“Good morning —, on time as usual.” Your biology teacher, Mr. Molina greets you with a small smile. You return the smile with a lopsided grin slipping a pastel sticker on his desk as you pass by, a common trinket you've given to numerous people throughout your high school years.

Making your way to your designated seat you greet a few more people before the bell rings. To your left, a small voice breaks the silence in the classroom.

“Hey…uhm, — right? Do you have a pencil I can borrow?”

You don’t remember her name immediately, what was it..Bailey? Brielle? Beau..? Bella! That’s right, Bella, the newer student whom you haven’t had the chance to talk to yet, she's always glued to the brooding Cullens, you try to avoid them in the sweetest way possible, they don't seem like a crowd you want to mess with.

“Oh of course!” You fish through your colorful pencil case before finally finding a blue-and-pink mechanical pencil, accompanied by a matching resin Sanrio character dangling at the top.

“...Thanks” she says barely above a whisper. It was almost comically how her dark brown and greenish clothes contrasted with the shining pencil in her hand. You try not to notice but her aura seems to have been dimmed due to the space on her left, it was a fairly sunny day, one of the few ones you ever get in Forks. And the Cullens never show on sunny days, rumors trickle through the grapevine as to why but nothing has ever been confirmed.

A loud throat clear ends the interaction sharply, all eyes focus towards the front. “Alright class, I won't take up too much of your time but as you know we're nearing the end of winter, and spring break is right around the corner. Starting a new unit would do more harm than good so I would like for you all to get into partners—” a loud groan fills the room, an awkward smile pastes your face. Forks is a more introverted and secluded space, partner work is usually a no—go.

“I would like!— for you all to partner up and write a paper on any chapter we have previously learned. This will be due the day you come back from break, giving you slower workers a good two weeks to get all your writing sorted and turned in. Anyone absent has been subjected to automatic partnership with whoever doesn't have a partner by the end of class.”

You notice a nervous look wash over Bella’s face, there were only two people absent meaning working with Edward was immediately off the table.

“Hey, Bella? Did you wan—” Before you could finish your statement multiple students desperately rushed towards you.

“Hey, —, let's work together, yeah?”

“—, please work with me! You're the only person I know enough in this class”

“—, over here!!”

“I'm going to slime myself out if we don't work together!!!”

You were a fairly smart student, but this was just overkill if anything you're more personality than brains! “Uhm, sorry guys, I was going to ask Bella to work with me. Maybe next time!” A few whines and groans filled the air surrounding the crowd before they dispersed to find a new partner.

“You want to work with me?” You flinched slightly from the voice beside you, she didn't sound upset that you immediately used her as a shield but she also didn't seem as pleased as you had hoped, more suspicious.

“Yeah! We haven't had much time to talk because you're usually with your boyfriend, he's your boyfriend right? You seem a bit on the shy side so I was hesitant to approach you.”

A faint blush dusts her cheeks at the mention of the pale man. “Y..Yeah, you could say that, we haven't really put a label on it yet. You've already told the majority of the class that we're partners so I guess we're partners?”

A small cringe makes its way to your mouth, you internally scold yourself for indirectly forcing Bella to work with you.

“Right, so what should we focus on first?”

—

By the end of biology you and Bella both decide to meet at the local library to get immediate feedback on each other's writing. The faster you both finish the project the faster you can go back to being strangers(or so Bella thinks). You leave for your next class with a quiet and polite wave, accommodating Bella’s social skills.

The day slips into a disorientating fuzz. The sunny morning has long gone into a now gray coat of wool covering the once vibrant blue sky. The final bell rings and you slowly pack up your materials. Students fill the hallways escaping through every exit but as you make your way to your locker and eventually the main hallway you can't shake that you've forgotten something, …

Bella! Oh Crumbs you have got to be the worst new friend ever! You pick up your pace, you really hope she doesn't think of you as an unreliable partner for this, in your defense biology was first period, almost seven hours ago and you forgot to set a reminder! You're a busy guy!

Your vision slightly blurs when you make it to the main entrance, huffing you frantically look around the sea of familiar faces. There you soon spot an uncomfortable standing bella. You stumble over to her before you can notice she's in an awkward conversation with a shabby-haired underclassman.

“Bella! Hey— I'm so sorry I totally almost forgot, I promise it wasn't on purpose…” You place your hand on her shoulder, your excuse floats unheard in the air as you suddenly become very aware of the thick tension.

“Bella he’s no good for you!”

“How would you know that Jacob you've hardly given him a chance.”

“I don't need to give him a chance when I already know his kind like the back of my hand; they're dangerous.”

“Oh, you're such a hypocrite!”

“And you aren't?!”

The boy stood at the bottom of the school's stairs, motorcycle behind him, he looked slightly sweaty and distressed. From their bickering, this doesn't seem to be a first. If they weren’t obviously talking about Edward Cullen you’d assume the boy was somewhat of a bigot. You do your best to go unseen but wearing all pastel in a gray town makes you stick out like a lightsaber.

“Who is he?” Shit, Jacob’s voice is sharp as a blade and filled with venom. His gaze is dark and possessive and you almost shrink behind Bella from the way he stares holes into your hand that connects you to her.

“No one, or at least no one you need to be concerned about. Who I'm involved with has nothing to do with you Jacob.” Her words cut the tension in half, his gaze snaps towards her pleadingly. “Bella—”

“Let’s go, —” She makes her way towards her old pickup truck, not even bothered to glance at the boy as you both pass. You try to ignore the gaze that follows you both till you're out of the school parking lot and out of view, down the road.

—

You lie awake in bed late at night recalling your day, you try to not think about the mysterious boy that you've encountered but it’s hard not to when he’s one of the most alluring men you’ve come across in a while. His golden tan skin that subtly glittens in the spring sky. For an underclassman, he was well built, chest heaving under his breaths, arms flexing from anger.

—And his face, God, he was beautiful— even under that sharp gaze his eyes held a passion you don't think you've seen in any other bland man from Forks, it held a clumsy but direct aura. His jaw clenched, flexing under the skin, cheeks red from anger. His slightly chapped lips were wet from his heated debate.

To say you were a lost gay with no play was an understatement. You were a friendly guy but there's a reason you call yourself the token gay.

Flipping over to your side you hug a pillow close to your chest. Your stuffed animals stare mockingly at you, taunting you for being this worked up over a boy you could only attach a first name to. A familiar pulse snaps you out of your daydream, you dare not look down at the perpetrator inside choosing to groan loudly into your pillow while tossing in your bed.

You huff as you settle for a starfish position, pajamas disheveled against your sheets, your face felt warm and your palms clamped under a feeling you dreaded.

—You’d wished Jacob was possessive over you rather than Bella.

“Fuck.”

—

The silence that filled the library was almost unbearable due to your running thoughts. Bella sat to your write typing away about the evolution of humans and prehistoric times, or something. You gulp staring down at your empty paper, you weren't being a very good project partner and you knew it. You couldn't focus, you knew Bella knew, you also knew the other pair of eyes knew as well.

“You haven’t written anything down in the 30 minutes we’ve been here, are you not feeling well?” Edward, he wasn't very pleased when he found out you and Bella were working together. You don't blame him, it seemed like every male who was within ten feet of Bella was naturally drawn to her.

All it took was one unpleasant trip in your mind late at night for him to realize you were absolutely no threat. Loneliness as a queer man will do that to you no one told him to pop in while you were thinking of a hot and heavy make-out session between you and Jacob!!

The next time you saw him, he looked at you slightly disturbed, pitiful, and a bit disappointed. He knew you liked Jacob but he’d also known Jacob was hooked on Bella. (not that he’d ever get her)

“S—sorry, I'm just a bit out of focus, I'm gonna run out and get a coffee. Do you guys want anything?” You rigidly get out of your seat chair whining under you cause a few heads to turn. “No, we're all good, take your time.” You smile at Bella, she’s been progressively understanding the longer you have worked together, not something you'd expect the first time you'd seen her.

The cafe was small, tucked in next to the school. The atmosphere was calming and quiet, you place your order and wait by the counter, feet tapping. Your mind was racing, what was the smoothest way to ask your new friend if their friend who happened to have a crush on them happened to be gay, and completely unrelated was willing to give them your number?

You sigh and rub your hand over your face, you feel your cheeks warm at just the thought of even attempting to tell Bella, you’d only known her a few weeks and didn't want her to close you off after your relationship was just getting closer.

Your hand slowly runs down your face only to be harshly removed by a warm hand gripping your wrist.

“Who the hell are you and how do you know Bella?!”

To say you were taken aback was an understatement, he was a lot more handsome up close, his eyes held the same threatening gaze as before, his lips a bright red from the cold weather. His grip was tight and you couldn't help but wonder what it’d be like to be pinned down while he thrusted in and out of—

“What, too good to speak? I said, "Who are you?!” Your eyes snap from his lips to his chocolate eyes, if this were a cartoon your face would probably be a glowing red while steam came from your ears.

“I—...uhm I’m Bella’s—” His grip tightened, “Bella’s what?” His tone was dominating and intimidating. Before you could respond your order was called.

“S—sorry that's my drink…” You quietly explained, snapping your wrist out of his hand rubbing the bruising skin, he was much taller than you, not to mention bigger, you’d wonder what Bella had done to attract such a man.

You made careful steps to not provoke him further but he was relentless. He followed you from the cafe all the way to the library door. Just before you could reach the handle he jerked your shoulder spinning you around. “You never answered my question.” He spat, “You never gave me a chance.” You responded awkwardly.

“Listen, I’m just Bella’s biology partner; I'm not interested in dating her or anything you can calm down.” You didn't mean to sound as harsh as you did but hearing him this defensive over a girl who’d already had a boyfriend made you quite bitter.

“Yeah, that's what they all say, you listen here cause I'm only going to tell you this once, Bella’s off limits, she's not yours to peer over and definitely not on the market, so stay away from her.” He points a finger accusingly against your chest, the other hand gripped in a tight fist, you wouldn't lie, that hurt. Figuratively and literally, this guy had some sharp nails.

“And she’s yours? Last time I checked she doesn't even like you, not to mention she has a whole boyfriend?? I don't know what kind of three-party relationship you guys have going on but trust, I'm really not interested in being with her.” The words shoot out of your mouth like bullets. You grip his finger, eyebrow furrowed.

“Yeah, that's what they all say before they're suddenly confessing their undying love for her and become inseparable from her—”

“Dude im gay!” The silence is heavy, the words slipped from your mouth before you could catch them. You weren't expecting to come out to a stranger you were having wet dreams about but you didn't know any other way to get him off your tail.

He stands unfazed fists clenching and unclenching, he sighs before opening his mouth. “So people can't be bi anymore?” You were floored, you threw your head covering your mouth as you tried to contain the laughter that threatened to escape.

“What?! I'm being serious, stop laughing.” You huff as you bend over resting your hands on your knees, you tilt your head to look up at him. “You're impossible, no I'm not bisexual, and I'm not interested in Bella. Really, we're just lab partners.”

He stares down at your cheeks a warm red, he is embarrassed. “Whatever…” He huffed pulling the library door open and walking in. “Hey wait up!” You quickly recover realizing he intended to stick around.

—

“Jacob? What are you doing here?” Bella looked up from her computer. “I thought I smelled a dog,” Edward says smirkingly, leaning back. To your surprise, Jacob lets out what almost sounds similar to a growl.

“Do you have a dog, Jacob?” You say confused looking between the three people, you didn't know him that well but you also didn't think he smelled of anything. He flinches back looking a bit frantic, “Uhm…something like that.”

“Hm, okay!” You choose not to push and pull your seat out to begin writing the outline of your essay.

Time seems to fly by after Jacob arrives because you all flow into a conversation, more bickering on Jacob and Edward's part but you were learning the dynamic of their “relationship”, Jacob seemed to yearn and crave Bella’s affection while Edward seemed to gain it more naturally. You feel a bit out of place but Bella always finds ways to rope you back in.

By the time you’ve finished writing your rough draft, it was already dark outside, “I think we're done for the day.” You say leaning back stretching your arms out. “You barely did anything,” Edward says snarkly, “well, until a certain someone showed up.” His remark is short-lived as Bella elbows him. Jacob looks a bit confused but glares at Edward due to Bella’s reaction

Of course they knew, why wouldn't they? Every time Jacob talked you looked at him like a lovesick puppy desperate for attention. You meant to hide it better but it was hard when your mind immediately wanted to keep tabs on everything he said.

“Whatever, man, what about your project? I haven't seen you write a thing since we got here?” You lean forward resting your chin on your palm, Edward matches your energy and replies just as smart. “I finished it already, smartass.” You shoot back gripping the table, “No way!”

“He works fast,” Bella says, grabbing her bag and getting up. As she does both boys seem to follow, leaving you the only one still sitting. You quickly follow realizing they weren't going to wait for you. “Hey hold on!”

—

The next few weeks are a blur. Jacob continues to join in on you and Bella's project sessions, Edward joins as well, obviously. Jacob claims it's to keep an eye on you and Bella no matter how many times you try to explain it, he’s naturally possessive towards her. Whenever you get a bit too close to her a sharp “growl” slips from his throat, or at least that's what you say.

Unbeknownst to you whenever you aren't looking his gaze lingers just a bit too long, his mouth dries whenever he realizes he wasn't growling at you but Bella. His cheeks flush whenever you smile at him.

“Fuck…” He whispers looking at you.

—

“There's a bonfire tonight, you should come, uhm Bella will be there.” You and Jacob were alone, you ran into each other at the grocery store and decided to catch up, it’d been a while since you’d last seen him, he stopped meeting with you and Bella —blamed it on getting busy with his new job.

The air was awkward but in a comforting way, it had been the first time you two were truly alone. (in a friendly way)

Your gaze dropped a little, your heart had fluttered when he invited you, it seemed almost like a “meet my family” date, then he mentioned Bella, and those thoughts faded. You felt stupid for thinking anything romantic would come out of a bonfire but you couldn't help your little heart that yearned for something more.

You hesitate for a second before looking up at him, “I’d love to, send me the information i’ll be there!” you look up to see he's already staring at you, you try not to look down at his lips you really do but you couldn't resist, your eyes flicker down to his lips and for a second the world around you two seems like a blur, all you could focus on was the way his breathing staggered under your gaze lips slightly watered.

Neither of you say anything you hold each other's gaze your bodies feel weightless as you both begin to lean in, his lips are only a nod away from your as your noses bump into each other and slide into place, you can feel his body heat against you as his chest meets yours neither of you break eye contact, his eyes start to droop and just before you make contact—

“hmph?!—” Your hand clamps over his mouth as you launch yourself back. “Jacob, I’m so sorry—” You remove your hand, eyes frantically looking anywhere but his face. “I uhm, I gotta go but will be there tonight see you later!” You step back, almost tripping over your own feet, sprinting away in any direction that wasn't towards him. “Hey, —, wait!—” You don't hesitate, you keep sprinting.

Jacob looked down at his hand, his whole body felt like it was on fire, noises from the street seemed so far away, the only thing his ears focused on was the way your feet slammed against the pavement, the way your breath quickened with anticipation and anxiety. Your scent, god it was almost indescribable how it made his brain fog, you smelled of freshly found honey, the organic kind. So sweet it almost made him instinctively sniff for more. His heart ached as you ran from him, because now, you were his everything. His touch pokes against his cheek and his eyes lock in the direction you’d run.

“Shit…”

—

You turn down a random street and lean against What were you thinking? There’s no way he actually intended to kiss you. I mean he was head over heels for Bella and you both had just gotten done talking about her. Maybe he just got caught up in the moment. You were the one who initiated that kiss right? Fuck, you were gay but the last thing you would want to do is force yourself on someone!

You grip your hair and pull and you sink towards the floor. “I'm so fucking cooked…” You mumble, but as you lean against the wall you couldn't help but think about the way you felt his breath against yours, for a moment you let your mind wander to all the possibilities that could have unfolded. Could've, a hypothetical, because no matter how much you imagine you still sat alone against the wall.

—

Heart thumping loudly against your chest you step out of Bella’s truck, you didn't trust yourself to drive. Your nervous system was going crazy and your eyes looked almost lost.

“Hey, are you okay? Really if you need to go at any time I'm more than happy to take you home, don't push yourself.”

God bless Bella’s soul she was such a sweetheart. You take a deep breath, you stare at your reflection on her truck. You choose a pastel sweater, jeans, a matching hair clip, and Converse, nothing too crazy or out there, just something fitting for the cold weather. “Do you think they’ll like me?”

“— I haven't met a single person that doesn't like you, you sweet, like honey. Also, you kinda smell like it” She laughs softly. You smile at her, appreciating her way of comforting you.

—

The night had been going well so far. You had met a few members of his tribe and they'd shared embarrassing stories, not that getting along with people had been hard for you.

You'd gotten so caught up in the laughter and storytelling you almost didn't notice Jacob staring at you across the fire. He said close to his father and Bella. Just as you predicted, he did think you were Bella.

You sip your drink, whether from sorrow or joy, you very much intend on getting blackout drunk tonight. You quickly turn your head away when his eyes meet yours, pretending to be invested in the story that was being told to you by a very enthusiastic Seth.

—

By the time you were 3 drinks down, you realized it would take a while for you to get drunk off these 2% alcohol drinks. Your hand instinctively reaches for another but a hand grabs your wrist, making the bottle slip from your hand.

You look up only to see a very concerned Jacob.

“You've had enough.” He says sternly and offers you a water bottle inside. You take it reluctantly, “I’m not even drunk…” you try to focus your gaze down but it proves pointless as he kneels to look up at you. “Still, I don't need you tripping over yourself out here, it's dangerous.” His hands creep up the side of your flushed face moving your bangs to feel your forehead. “You feel a bit warm come he—”

“Jacob just stop, I don't need you showing me pity because of what happened, I get it, really. It won't happen again.” You swat his face turning your head to the side. He looks at you defeated, “Why would you think that..?” his voice sounds hoarse, almost like a whimper.

You stand up, “I'm not Bella, Jacob! I can't be the girl of your dreams; I'm a guy, Jacob.” Maybe your actions are a bit exaggerated due to the alcohol, or the underlying feeling that Jacob was only interested in you because he can't be with Bella. You hadn't meant to quiet the bonfire, eyes stare at you from all directions. All holding the same energy, pitifulness. “Fuck, I'm sorry I should really go” You grab the water bottle and turn towards, Bella’s truck.

Bella instinctively gets up to follow behind you. She says a few small goodbyes and catches up to you. “Hey, —, did you mean all that stuff you meant back there?”

You’d like to say you got to properly communicate your feelings with Bella and you both found a healthy way to work through your envy towards her.

“Listen, Bella—” Before you could even begin to explain you feel your body crash into the ground followed by a sharp crack. The air is forced from your lungs and your eyes begin to water from pain.

The following moments are a heavy blur, you hear Bella scream your name, and a few tribe members run towards you. But you could've sworn those figures turned into giant dogs, or something like that, maybe they all collectively tripped?

You feel your body get flipped on your back and when you look up you see Jacob, funny, you remember a few weeks ago when you were in this exact position. Except you were in your bed, and the Jacob above you was just your imagination.

“—, hey, baby stay with me.” His grip is tight, you want to tell him you aren't going anywhere but the words get stuck in your throat. You feel a sharp pain in your ribs every time you breathe, no doubt it's broken.

The last thing you remember is Jacob moving your bangs to kiss your forehead while begging you to stay awake. When he pulls back a deep crimson is covering his lips and undeniably, it's blood.

—

The next time you woke up everything felt heavy, you were in a hospital bed closed by a curtain. “You're awake, I'm Dr. Carlisle Cullen, I believe you've met my son, Edward.” You blink slowly at him, your brain not comprehending the full extent of the situation.

He continues to explain your current situation, “You’ve suffered a grade three concussion, a broken rib, and a fractured leg. You need rest, after a couple of days we’ll get you wrapped up and you can begin physical therapy.” He looks down at the clipboard in his hands and writes something before closing the curtain behind him.

You faded in and out of consciousness for the next few hours, you wanted to rest but every time you closed your eyes you saw Jacob's face. He pleaded in his eyes for you to stay awake, his tears falling against your cheek.

Your fingers twitched against the bed sheets. “Where is he,” you think, “I thought this was some cliché story where I woke up to him by my side…” you stare blankly at the ceiling, it's becoming a hobby.

Your lips are dry as you move your mouth to speak, your head is pounding. “Jacob…” is all you manage to say before you black out.

—

“He’s a mess,” Bella whispers to Edward, the three of them have been sitting in the visiting waiting room when they were informed you woke up, when Jacob was told you weren't physically fit for visiting he lost it. Being held back by both Bella and Edward.

“What the fuck do you mean I can't see him?!” Jacob growls, thrashing against Edward. “He’s not fit for visiting, he can't speak, he’s barely conscious. You can't rush to see him, you'd make his condition worse.”

This quiets Jacob, the thrashing stops, his mood switches from anger to grief. Fuck, he should've gone after you, hell he should've ripped that vampire in half. The terror he felt when he saw swift red curls dash towards you, Victoria, she’s picked you to be her next meal.

The moment your eyes closed he was on her, he shifted and dashed at her head—on. Scratching, biting, pulling; his mind was racing at a pace his pack members could keep up. They attempted to pull him back when they noticed her bloodied figure had vanished into the trees.

The aftermath was a mess, Bella called Edward and told him Victoria had struck, pack members frantically tried to calm Jacob while they waited for a first aid kit. It was no use, before they knew it Jacob had shifted and was carrying you in his mouth towards the ER.

So here he sat, completely hopelessly, only separating you two was a wall and his self-restraint.

—

The next time you wake up Jacob is at your side, awake and hyper aware of his surroundings, every shoe squeak causes him to turn towards the noise and release a guttural rumble.

Your throat is dry, you attempt to speak but it comes out as a cough causing your whole body to spasm. His head snaps in your direction, almost causing whiplash.

“—, fuck— you're awake, hey, it's okay, I'm here.” He attempts to soothe you, clumsily grabs the glass of water on the side table bringing it to your lips. “Here, drink slowly.”

When you finish, hold your hand bringing it to his lips. “You scared the hell out of me, god I'm so glad you're okay.” For the first time since you've woken up, you're able to say a full sentence.

“I'm so sorry, Jacob.” Your body twitches, you're crying, your lips wobbling. Jacob practically launches himself forward to wipe your tears. “—, stop, why are you apologizing?”

“I’m so stupid, fuck, I let my jealousy over Bella get in the way of our friendship and instead of communicating, I ran away like an idiot, twice. I tried to protect my feelings and ended up hurting you!” You were full on wailing at this point, no mistake other patients when eavesdropping. You didn't care, you just needed Jacob to understand, you only needed Jacob.

He wipes your tears with his thumbs attempting to silence your cries, “Look at me —, you don't need to apologize for anything. Baby, you're the one in the hospital; I'm fine, really. There are things I haven't told you either.” Your heart flutters at the pet name and your tears dry. You look at him confused, “You haven't?”

Jacob leans back still holding your hand. “—, I’m a shape—shifter.” You don't answer, you feel like a loading screen, your eyes are wide because he looks serious.

“Sorry…?” There in your little secluded hospital bed, Jacob Black told you everything. From vampires, to shifters, to his tribe's history, to how they're affiliated with the Cullens. He told you how being a wolf affected his emotions.

Most importantly he told you about imprints. “So…the universe is forcing you to love me?” You look down at your connected hands and attempt to retreat, Jacob doesn't allow you to hide from him, he kisses the back of your head and leans on your abdomen lightly to not hurt you.

“That's what it sounds like, huh? To anyone else, maybe, but my love for you isn't forced, it's raw, real, something no imprint could duplicate.” He stares up at you, he holds eye contact with you. Real, everything he says feels unmistakably real. “You mean it?” You say, your voice filled with relief. He stands up and you hold your breath preparing for rejection. Eyes shut tight, heart thumping against your chest.

But the blow never came, instead, he placed a soft kiss against your lips. They were everything you imagined, soft with a chapped edge, warm, and inviting. Your breath hitches against his mouth.

Your eyes shoot open, and you pull back, he looks stunned and a bit hurt before he hears your next words “That was our first kiss!” he lets out a loud laugh before he kisses your cheeks “Jacob!” you whine pushing him away, he doesn't budge. He digs his nose into your cheek nuzzling you affectionately. “I’d prove my love a thousand times over to you if it meant you’d believe it's real, I love you —.” He doesn't move, he whispers this all against your neck, an intimate moment only the two of you would share.

“I love you too, Jacob.”

—

The next few months come and go, you and Bella finish your project and turn it in while you stay in the hospital still in recovery. You’ve received many “get well soon” cards from classmates, unfavored by a very possessive Jacob.

“You received another 20 and you've only missed a week of school!” Jacob whines from his spot lying next to you head resting on your shoulder. “They're just being polite, stop being so pouty.” He huffs nuzzling into your neck, “You're supposed to be mine.” “And I am.” You kiss his head, massaging his scalp.

Relearning to walk with your right leg was hard, and painful, you started in a wheelchair and slowly made your way to a forearm crutch. And Jacob stayed by your side the entire time, he never made you feel like a burden for not being able to walk on your own. It was hard, trust it was hard. Late nights of you crying in his arms, arguments that ended with tears, it was a painful, slow process but it made your relationship stronger.

By the time you could fully walk on your own, it was the middle of summer. Bella and Edward were distant but caring friends, you understood, they had their own lives. They’d often send messages updating you on their lives. Weekly hangouts became monthly; it was getting harder to reach them and you mourned the friendship you all once had.

—

It was a hot gloomy summer day, Jacob had insisted on coming over only to tackle you in a multi-hour cuddle session. Everything had been going smoothly until you received a text from Bella, causing your attention to shift from him to your phone. Which is how you ended up lying flat on your back, phone in the air, while Jacob hovered over you in the space between your two arms.

It was rare you'd catch Bella’s response immediately and even rarer for you both to be free at the same time for a full conversation. Above you Jacob frowns deeply at you, he hates not having your attention.

He tucks his head into your neck wrapping his arms around your waist. His breath is hot, like always, his natural heat is almost too much for you to bear in this weather. “Hmmm, Jacob, stop! You’re too hot.” You whine into the air, if there was one thing that's become a constant in your relationship it's you whining because of Jacob’s demand for constant attention.

“You're not paying attention to me, honey, look at me. Put your phone down.” He huffs, nodding his head up and down against your neck slowly. “Okay in a second— this is like the first time in ages I've gotten to talk to Bells!” You try to push his face away from your neck, you receive a glare in response.

He hated it when you called her that, he’s such a jealous man! “Jacob, cmon, stop serious—” Jacob lifts his head up knocking your phone out of your hands, he catches it, but he doesn't return it, no, instead he holds it above your head while diving for a kiss.

“Hmp—?” The kiss is hot and desperate, his nose rams into the side of your nose bridge, (which you will for sure complain about later.) you push back for air, the words get lost in your throat as you see a line of saliva connecting you two. He places the phone on the nightstand focusing back on your body.

You were only in a sleeveless undershirt and plaid pants, you didn’t bother getting dressed before he came over. His gaze felt as if he could see right through you and in a moment of embarrassment you pulled your hands to cover your face.

“Stop staring…” He pulls your hands away from your face and nuzzles against it, “I can't help it baby, you're so handsome, all mine.” His hands wander from your wrist to your waist, he slots his thigh between your legs feeling your growing bulge against him. “Look, you're so excited for me,” He whispers in your ear, placing a soft kiss before finding a home in your neck. Licking and marking any exposed skin, which was a lot.

His grip guides you against his thigh slowly, unbearably. Your skin felt like it was burning and suddenly the AC didn't feel like enough. He knew what he was doing, he was teasing you, getting back at you for not giving him enough attention. Well, he got your attention now.

You arched your back against him, rocking your hips against his thigh harder, you felt like you were going to explode. “J—Jacob, stop teas… ing me hm— please I need it so bad.” Your voice came out broken and slurred, he grinned down at you. “Yeah? You want me now don't you, honey?”

Your hips stuttered as you let out a mewl. He knew what that nickname did to you; he’d used it the first time you two were intimate and you had cum on the spot.

“Clothes off, cmon—” He grips your pants, gripping them down recklessly. Your skin is flushed and your tip is already leaking. Leaning back, he looks your body up and down.

One of his hands finds its way to your nipples, the other fumbles to the nightstand drawer, he pulls it open and blindly searches for the lube. He squirts some on his finger and lines them up.

“Look at me honey, I wanna see your face while I finger you.” His blunt tone makes your cheeks warm, you twitch against him when he pinches your nipple. “P—put it i—in already…” Your mouth salivates in anticipation. Body twitching and shudders under just his hands.

The moment he plunges his fingers in it, euphoric. Your body freezes and a silent scream escapes you; whines and moans follow. You don't break eye contact with him, he watches your reaction intently. Eyes darting between your twitching hole and leaking cock. He leans up, pressing a soft kiss against it.

“D—don't do that, if you, keep teasing m—meE! I'm goi—ing to c—cuM!!” Your voice comes out high-pitched.

His fingers press against your walls. Spreading open enough to take his cock. “You think you're ready for me baby?” You nod furiously, hips bucking against his face, cock needy for attention. “Oh, I know baby, you're so hard and leaky, you need help, need me to get you off?” He's not even looking at you, he's inside staring at your angry tip that's leaking against him. “S—stop talking to it!”

He runs his tongue up your cock as he meets you face to face, he tugs his shorts off, and he lines himself up with your hole. “He’s so cute though, pleading for attention down there.”

He pushes himself in one long stretch you both throw your heads back, your hands find his thighs, and they flex under your grip. His hips snap against yours and he groans, he starts slowly making his cock’s presence known to your tight hole.

His hand cups the back of your left leg pulling it against your chest as he moves fast. He thrusts sloppily, deep moans against his throat. “Baby, I wanna cum in you so bad, please let me cum in you, f—fuCk I'm so close” “Cum in me Jake— please!” he rests his head on your shoulder; your hips quicken in pace, “f—fUck—” his hips stutter against you before he presses hard against you. Cum leaks from your hole. “Look baby, you came untouched…” You open your eyes, you feel lightheaded as you look down at your chest. You were covered in your own cum. “You're going to be the death of me, Jacob.” You lean against the pillows hard and look up at him, he smiles flopping against you.

“God, Jacob, you're going to be covered in cum now!” “Oh well…guess we'll have to shower together.” he smiles at you rubbing your sides. “You’re impossible…”

—

The next time you hear from Bella or Edward, it's through the mail, specifically, an invitation for their wedding. “I didn't think the bastard would ever actually do it,” Jacob says from behind you. “Yeah…” you mumble, staring at the invitation.

Preparation for the wedding had been a breeze; it felt as if the Cullens had been waiting their whole life to plan someone's wedding.

As you and Jacob find your seat you can't help but feel a growing anxiety bubble in your stomach, Bella was Jacob's first love. The wedding carries on and your thoughts don't fade.

His feelings for you are real but do they compare to his past ones for Bella? You grip Jacob's hand when Bella makes her way down the aisle, she looks beautiful. Suddenly you guys aren't high schoolers in biology anymore. You're afraid to look at Jacob's reaction.

But when you turn to look at him, he’s already staring at you. And all your anxiety fades away, because in the moment you know the only thing in Jacob's universe is you, and he’d prove it a thousand times over if he had to.

“I love you, Honey.”

⌗ :⤿ Thank u for reading! (๑⃙⃘´༥`๑⃙⃘)

The days have been unbearably hot. The lack of rainfall over the past few weeks has caused the temperature to spike to ungodly levels. Usually, that wouldn't have been a problem. If only the air conditioning hadn't died midway through. And if Joel hadn't insisted on trying to fix it himself.

Now, typically? He’s great with his hands. In everything involving working with said hands. But this time, the gods (or whatever entity was looking over his shoulder) decided to screw him over since he just ended up making it much worse. He had somehow managed to break it further, damaging important parts. The worst part was that the repairman would take longer to swing by because the ordered replacements were taking longer than expected to arrive.

“Factory’s been struggling to meet the demand for these parts,” he said, giving Joel a look that would have made you burst out laughing if the situation weren't so dire.

Which brings us to the present moment where you are kneeling by the bed with your upper body lying on it. All the windows in the house are open to let in the slightly cooler evening air. You are doing some sudoku, irritated after a heated argument with Joel about it all.

He hasn't apologized yet. Didn't have enough time to let his pride wear down enough to do so. You sigh at the slight draft cooling your sweaty body. There’s no way you’re wearing more than underwear in this stagnant, humid heat. This is how you spend your time at home now, half-naked in constant, nauseating heat.

“Hey…” Joel steps into the room, leaning against the doorframe. You don't turn to look at him, instead comparing numbers in a column before checking them inside a box. 

“Hi.” You reply, coldly. Colder than most nights have been. 

“Babe, look… I know I messed up. But you know I always try.”

“Mhm. You do.” You manage to find a number that works perfectly in the puzzle and write it down. 

He falls silent and watches you start chewing on the end of the pencil. There’s no way you’re paying attention to him until he apologizes. You're not even giving him the time of day. 

The sound of footsteps getting closer makes your ears burn with rage, but you stay silent. Focus on the sudoku. What could go here? You check it vertically and horizontally. No such luck finding what’s missing.

The bed dips beside you. Joel bows his head to look at your paper and hums.

“What.”

“Found a number you’re missing.” 

You glare at him for a second, then look back down at the paper. “Thanks. Remind me when I asked.”

He scoffs, but nods. “Alright. You’re gonna be like that.” He softly slaps your ass, provoking an eye roll from you. “If you don’t mind, I was thinking of doing something.”

“You can do as you please. I’ll just be doing my sudoku.”

“Sure, babe…” 

He leaves to get a towel from the bathroom and sets it on the bed while you write down a number you just found. You’re suspicious of what he intends to do. Then, without saying a word, he pulls down your underwear. You frown and look back at him. 

“Keep your pretty eyes on the paper. Don’t mind me.” His hot hands caress your skin. Taking a shaky breath, you turn your head back to look at it. He starts off slowly, leaning over to kiss your neck. Your skin tastes salty from sweat, but he doesn’t mind. It's actually doing something for him. So, he starts kneading your cheeks, spreading them to look at your hole.

You attempt to look for the numbers again, writing the possible ones in the corners of the boxes they would go in. There’s still no 1 in the entire grid. And it’s bothering you. 

The feeling of Joel’s lips traveling down to kiss your lower back gets your heart racing. He squeezes your buns together, before pulling them apart and gently pressing kisses to your hole. Your shoulders tense up a little as you feel a tentative lick. Joel lets out a satisfied hum as he licks around the muscle. That cheeky – You feel yourself getting hard, and when his hand slides between your legs, he starts milking you. He goes slow, taking his time to lick into you and spread your anus with his tongue.

“Ahn – ” you moan when you finally find a number and write it down. He's getting to you. The already boiling temperature only gets worse, your body is sweating buckets. You didn't even bother to double-check if it's supposed to go in that spot, but it's getting hard to focus. Your body feels like it’s on fire. Joel’s hand leaves your cock to free his own before getting some lube on his hand. He pulls his face off of you for just a second, breathing heavily. 

“How’s the sudoku going? You gotten any further?”

You shrug, trying to act casual, like this isn't getting to you at all. You hear a chuckle behind you when his lube-smeared hand wraps around your cock. The added moisture is surprisingly refreshing. You sigh contentedly.

Joel’s tongue finds its way back inside you. It licks you as well as it always does, getting you worked up. He strokes himself while stroking you, both in the same rhythm. However, it feels like you’re about to burst with only a few touches. Your grip on the pencil tightens, and there’s no way you can focus anymore. Not when you’re so close. The weight of your head falls onto the bed, and your free hand grips the sheets. A louder moan leaves your lips. Joel smiles as he keeps going.

You gulp, trying to keep quiet. Trying not to give him the satisfaction of hearing the noises he loves so much coming from you. His stroking motions change, focusing mostly on the tip of your cock. This quickly sends you over the edge. You don't even come in spurts. It all just flows out of you, covering the floor between your legs with your sticky fluid. Panting heavily, you shake as you lie there. But Joel doesn’t stop stroking. Neither does his tongue stop licking around the rim and dipping inside you. 

You gasp. “J – Joel! Too much!” 

He hums, but he doesn't stop just yet. Only when your legs tremble like a fawn's. The wet sound of him stroking himself brings heat to your ears. He hasn’t come yet. 

“Babe, you need to finish solving your little puzzle.” He mumbles, smearing the lube on his hand over your hole before pushing two fingers inside you. You can almost see your brain from how aggressively your eyes roll back at the overwhelming sensation. His fingers curl into your prostate. He’s gotten too good at finding it so quickly. 

“Come on. I can help you if you want.” He stretches you out a little further before pulling his fingers out and replacing them with his cock. You bite down on the pencil and groan as you feel him push into you inch by inch. The feeling is amazing. You nod at Joel's words and push your head up as much as you can to look at the paper. Eyes lidded, tired from the aftershock of your orgasm.

He groans once he's fully inside you, lying still on top of you with his chin resting on your shoulder to look at the paper. He points his finger at the box where you last scribbled something.

“You wrote down a 5. That’s where the 1 goes, babe.” He whispers low and teasingly. You stop biting down on the pencil. Your teeth have left clear imprints on the yellow lacquer covering the wood. You erase the 5 and change it to a 1. Just as you set the lead to the paper, he draws his hips back to then sharply thrust into you. You close your eyes and sloppily finish writing the number. 

“Fuck… too warm… too hot.” you groan under him.

He chuckles and pushes his body up slightly so that he doesn't stick to you too much. Both your bodies are covered in sweat. Skin easily sticking to skin. Joel’s hips keep snapping into you. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes louder than usual. You lose what little strength you have left to push your head up, and lie your head down. Pushing the sudoku book aside, you drop the pencil and clutch the bedsheets. Joel leans down to kiss your cheek. Breathing right beside your ear, he whispers, “you’re doing amazing, baby. Feeling so good.”

All the anger and frustration you felt toward him leaves your body when a shock of intense pleasure strikes your core. He’s hit the right spot. And he knows it. Thus, the slow, drawn-out pulling out and sharp thrusting turns into a quick, mind-numbing pounding. You are gasping for air, as each hard blow knocks the wind out of you. There are tears forming in your eyes from how unbelievably good he feels. From how well he fills you. How thick he feels.

You surrender to the pleasure, letting out moans as your body becomes moldable under his touch. 

“That’s it – hah – let me hear you.” He’s out of breath. From the way his voice sounds low and murmured, you know he’s awfully close. But so are you. Once again. With the last bit of strength you have, you slide your hand down to stroke your oversensitive, half-hard cock. 

“Joel. Jesus – that’s it. Right there – !”

With only a few more thrusts, he spills into you, and you add to the sperm already on the floor. Joel collapses on top of you. You're both breathing heavily. He moans close to your ear and pushes his cum into you even further as he slowly but firmly pushes as deep as he can. 

Under his labored breath, and with soft kisses to your shoulder, he quietly asks, “Are you still mad at me…?”

You chuckle, feeling a smile creep onto your face. “Maybe just a little bit.” You open your eyes and turn your head to kiss his lips.  “If you carry me to a nice, cold shower, I might forgive you.”

“Deal.”