making it up as i go

You stepped inside cautiously, breathing a sigh fo relief at the pitter-patter of little feet.

"Mama!" Luke whisper-shouted. "Mama, Mama, we have to be quiet!"

You knelt down, glancing between them. "Why is that, my loves?" you asked softly.

"Papa's 'eeping," Kieran whispered.

Luke nodded solemnly, leaning close to your ear and raising his hand to cover his mouth. "Papa was punching all the bad guys super hard last night so he's extra tired."

Kieran mirrored Luke's pose, leaning in conspiratorially. "Yeah, he was saying, um…" He furrowed his brows for a beat. "'It doesn't matter whose place this is—'"

"'It's time for a new ruler!'" Luke finished, feigning a deep voice.

"You sound almost as scary as me," came a booming, groggy voice.

"Papa!" The twins grinned, running to his feet. He gently patted their heads before glancing up at you.

"I thought you were sleeping," you said.

Sylus's lips just barely curled up. "Let's just say I have a… sixth sense when it comes to you." He beckoned you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist once you got close enough.

"Happy birthday," you murmured, stroking the hair at the nape of his neck.

His arms tightened around you just a fraction. "Did I ever tell you my birthday?" he asked.

"I have two very eager informants," you chuckled.

Luke tugged on your clothes. "Mama, did you bring cake?"

You laughed. "Yes I did, my love, but I think we should let Papa get a little more rest before we eat cake."

Kieran sighed woefully. "Can we at least give him our presents now?" he asked hopefully.

"I'm alright with that," Sylus shrugged.

"Alright," you relented. "Gifts, and then Papa takes a nap."

The twins darted away before you could finish speaking, giggles left in their wake. Sylus raised a brow, tracking them carefully.

"I hate that they had to hear what happened last night," he murmured.

"But at least they're safe," you said.

Sylus nodded. "At least they're safe."

The twins returned quickly, Kieran dragging along a large bag while Luke bounced eagerly beside him.

"Open it, Papa!" he ordered.

"We'll sit on the couch first, yeah?" Sylus chuckled.

Luke and Kieran crawled into his lap as soon as he sat down, tucking themselves into each of his sides. You snapped a quick picture before sitting down next to them.

Sylus pulled the tissue paper out carefully, a warm smile growing as he pulled out a Grumpy Crow plushie.

"It's your very own Mephisto!" Kieran chirped.

Mephisto squawked in protest.

Luke patted his head sympathetically. "Don't worry, Mephie, we're not replacing you."

"You made Mephie to keep us safe," Kieran explained. "So we wanted to give you your very own crow so you'll be safe, too!"

Sylus's breath shuddered for a beat before he pulled both twins in for a tight hug. "Thank you, boys. I'll be extra safe from now on."

They grinned brightly in unison. "We knew it'd protect you, Papa!"

"Now it's time for Mama's gift!" Luke turned to you eagerly.

"Mine won't protect you like Grumpy Crow will," you said slowly as you handed Sylus a small box. "But I hope you like it."

Sylus looked at you curiously before gingerly opening the box, eyes fixating on a silver ring.

"I saw the ruby and thought of you," you said, wringing your hands.

"You thought of me?" Sylus's gaze flickered to you, something vulnerable passing through before that familiar cockiness shone through. "Just can’t get me out of your head, can you, sweetie?"

"No, I can't." You shook your head honestly. "I figure that will look pretty on your hand until I can get you a different kind of ring."

Sylus's ears flushed red, mouth running dry.

Luke and Kieran giggled. "Mama and Papa sittin' in a tree—"

"Don't you want to give Papa the last gift?" you interrupted.

Any mischief in their eyes disappeared as they nodded eagerly.

"The last gift?" Sylus echoed. "Just what do you three have planned?"

"Just look," you said simply, handing him a manila envelope.

Sylus's brows furrowed, hesitating for just a beat. With a deep breath, he opened it, pulling out a collection of papers.

"Certificate of adoption?" he read. "Is this—" His voice caught in his throat.

"We want you to be our Papa for real," Kieran said. "Will you please be our Papa, Papa?"

"Of course, my boys." Tears built along his waterline. "I'll always be your Papa. Always."

He pulled them in close, grateful that either of them mentioned his tears dampening their shirts.

"I thought I wouldn't be able to," he muttered. "Their birth certificates—"

"I pulled a few strings," you answered. "They're not the official certificates they were given at birth, but they're enough."

"Thank you." Sylus's gaze was heavy. "Thank you so much." He pressed kisses to each twin's cheeks. "And thank you, boys, for wanting me to be your Papa." His tears ran freely now. "This is the greatest gift I could have asked for." Sylus took a deep breath. "I'm so proud to have you as my sons."

"I love you, Papa," Kieran said softly.

"Yeah, Papa, I love you," Luke nodded.

"I love you, too." Sylus smiled. "So much. My boys."

You rose to your feet slowly. "Why don't we go take that nap?" you suggested gently.

Sylus stood, one twin in each arm. "Come on, little dove," he nodded you forward. "I'd like the whole family together."

You crawled into bed first, the twins following close behind. Luke curled into your side, a small heater against your stomach. When Sylus climbed in, pulling you into his arms, Kieran collapsed onto his chest, soft snores rising within seconds. Luke followed suit soon after.

"They're more tired than I am," Sylus chuckled.

You stared at him, hair tousled and eyes heavy and tired but full of adoration as he watched the rise and fall of Kieran's chest.

"You're the best thing to happen to those boys, you know," you murmured.

Sylus blinked, doubt painting his features. "I hardly think anyone with my lifestyle can be the best thing for a pair of six year-olds."

"I wouldn't have thought that at first either," you admitted. "But you are. There's no doubt about it. You gave them what they needed… love."

"I rather think it's the other way around." He gently brushed the bangs out of Kieran's eyes. "They deserve everything," he sighed.

You scooted closer. "And you're willing to give it to them."

"Yeah." Sylus swallowed. "I'd give them everything because they looked at me and didn't see a fiend, but a father." His eyes grew watery again. "I owe them everything for that."

masterlist

When the valet nods, he hands both the bribe and the keys to his obscenely expensive car to the young man, who's doing his best to hide his enthusiasm behind careful deference and his repeated, “Yes, sir. Of course, sir. Right away, sir.”

Grinning as Sylus pats his shoulder and strides your way, you dramatically hold out your elbow as the valet gets into the car. “Hello, sir. Are you ready to go, sir?”

He shakes his head with an amused smirk as he reaches you, taking the duffel bag Luke and Kieran had packed (hopefully correctly.. and without any explosives) and folding your elbow back into your side by looping an arm around your waist, pulling you into the warmth of his side.

“You’re the one who said this… disguise would work," he drawls, tugging on the collar of his "low-quality" shirt for the second time in as many minutes.

Then again, he'd been in a slew of Skye's clothing this week so maybe his delicate skin was chafing by now.

When your Watch pinged with the news that the Association was revamping its search for the Leader of Onychinus with "all hands on deck" from all special units including the UNICORNS on the week of Sylus' birthday, you almost lost your mind on the back of his bike. And though Sylus assured you it was fine, that he'd turn around and you could celebrate quietly at the Base instead, you couldn’t bring yourself to give up On celebrating with him in Linkon, hand-in-hand, out in the open like you'd planned.

So with a few calls to Jenna, a text exchange with the twins, and a little creativity, you managed to turn the situation into a week-long itinerary of excursions around the city with your boyfriend.

Or, according to the ever-watchful gaze of the city's CCTV system: your favorite fruit vendor, Skye.

“Um, the disguise is not the problem,” you say, peeking over his bicep as his luxury car disappears from view with a raised brow. “The problem is the part where the fruit vendor stepped out of a car worth more than this building.”

As the doors to Linkon's most exclusive hotel are shut by the doormen behind you, the warm gold of the crystal chandeliers overhead illuminate his "humble" ensemble. You scoff internally when the light reflects off the buffed out tips of his simple leather shoes and the department-store belt dividing his plain, non-designer button-down and slacks. Because of course he still manages to look more like a model under a spotlight rather than a mildly successful entrepreneur in a lobby.

His chuckle fills the room, warm and syrupy and all too rich, wrapping around you in place of his arm as you approach the reception desk, greet the woman running it, and start the check-in process.

"What can I say, sweetie, my business ventures are thriving," he murmurs to the back of your head, quirking the corner of his lip up when the receptionist looks up and smiles at his approach. "Fruitful, some might even say."

You roll your eyes and lightly smack the back of your hand into his chest, hoping he's too busy teasing to notice her handing back your Hunter's Badge as well as your ID when you take your room key, your rooftop pass, and head to the elevators.

So far, everything had gone exactly to plan: escape rooms with the twins, a nighttime drag race, a shopping spree through Linkon’s antique stores, a sunset ride on your motorcycle. The fact that you and Sylus were doing all of it right under the Association’s nose only seemed to make it all the more enjoyable for him.

But today is Sylus’ actual birthday. And tonight is your big surprise.

An exclusive, invitation-only auction that just so happens to be featuring the protocore pair Sylus has had his eye on for months will be on the rooftop atrium this evening. You’d found out about it at work a month ago and managed to scheme your way into an extra invite by offering the organizer your services as an undercover Hunter, which not only let you keep the whole thing a secret, but also ensured none of your colleagues would be assigned here too.

Best of all, it meant that for one night, on a day dedicated entirely to him, Sylus wouldn’t have to be a fruit vendor. Or the Leader of Onychinus. Or the Association's most wanted man.

He could just be himself. Your handsome date at a fancy event. Your Sylus.

"So, do I get to know why we're spending the night at Linkon's finest hotel now–" a loaded pause as he holds up your pilfered Hunter's Badge with a flourish, "–Miss Hunter?"

You huff out an irritated breath as you reach out and snatch it back.

"No, you don't," you declare with a sniff. "Petty thiefs don't get rewarded."

Another one of his rich, syrup-sweet laughs pours over your skin as he leans a shoulder indolently against the wall and purses his lips in a pout. "Not even if it's the petty thief's birthday? That's just cruel, kitten."

You press the button to call down an elevator, brows raised. "It's also cruel to ruin other people's surprises."

"The twins only have themselves to blame for last year." He smirks at the memory of your time in the closet together. "And your surprise isn't ruined, if anything you're too good at them. Your schemes this week have been more elaborate than some of mine… even the fruitful ones."

"And thank the gods for that, mister businessman," you snort as the elevator arrives and opens with a ding. "Because you’d be a terrible comedian."

"Now that's just untrue." His palm steers you inside by the nape of your neck while you press your floor number. "Luke and Kieran think I'm funny."

"That's because you give them food. And sign their paychecks"

He hums.

A moment later you feel the warm brush of his breath over the curve of your ear, his low voice rasping over your skin like velvet. “You think I’m funny.”

The elevator’s stark lighting streaks through the swirls scarlet-painted mischief in his eyes when you turn to face him with a wicked smile, nose-to-nose.

"That's because you're good at giving me–"

Your sentence chokes off on a startled breath as the elevator suddenly jolts the ground beneath you and Sylus' arm instinctively pulls you into the shelter of his chest. His shoulders curl protectively over you, one of his hands pressing into your back, the other bracing against the wall behind you as the elevator shudders once more and then immediately whirs back to life.

“Alright?” he asks above your head after a beat, voice calm as the elevator continues its ascent like it hadn't been on the verge of dropping you and Sylus your deaths.

"I'm good." You press your palms into his chest to take a small step back and look around.

"Linkon's most exclusive five-star hotel," he mutters dryly, hand lingering at your back for a moment longer. He gives the ceiling a brief, unimpressed glance before retrieving the duffel he'd dropped.

"I'll call it into the front desk when we get to our room," you tell him, too focused on getting Sylus to the auction on time now to think about it too much more.

The elevator chimes pleasantly a second later, doors sliding open without a hitch so you and Sylus can make your way to your room.

But you get no more than two steps into the corridor before Sylus’ hand catches lightly at your wrist, turning you around when you turn to look at him by pulling it up to his chest.

“Now,” he says, silver brow raised, sinful lips curved as he leans in, “before the elevator so rudely interrupted you…”

He raises your wrist until it's caressing the side of his neck, his voice dropping along with his head as he brushes the words over your lips.

“What, exactly, were saying I was good at giving you?”

“So? Do you like it?”

Sylus looks up from the velvet box holding his new protocore pair when he hears your voice, his eyes like rubies as they take you in, edges cut into a sharp gaze that traces over the silhouette of your floor-length gown the colour of molten lava.

He hums, low and appreciative, as you sip from the glass of champagne you’d gone to get, your last for the night before you and Sylus head out.

“Yes. Beautiful,” he says, already reaching for you. His forearm catches the back of your hips, tugging you forward until the space between you disappears and the tip of his nose is dragging along your silk-clad stomach.

“Sylus—” You gasp out a laugh as the movement nearly spills liquid over the rim. Your free hand slips into his hair at the nape of his neck to give it a playful tug. “I meant your beautiful new protocore set, silly.”

“Oh, that.” He smirks, pressing his cheek to your abdomen to look at them, as if to refresh his memory on what they looked like. "I'm sure they'll satisfy me just fine."

He stands then, uncoiling to his full height, and the movement gives you the chance to appreciate him again.

Gone are Skye’s cheap cotton and department-store threads. In their place, a sharply tailored maroon and charcoal suit jacket hugs his muscular frame, the fabric rich and high-end, paired with charcoal trousers that fall cleanly over his polished shoes. A black silk button-down lies open just beneath it, enough to tease the line of his broad chest. A maroon silk ribbon wrapped loosely around his throat, an elegant leash that tempts you to try your hand at taming a beautiful beast.

But even that struggles to compete with the look in his eyes, you think, as you tip your head to study the angular lines of his beloved face. A sonnet of adoration that his irises have been reciting since the moment you'd opened the duffel bag in your "Fruit Vendor Budget" hotel room and presented him with your garments and plans for the night. Lingering, appreciative.

“But I can think of something far more beautiful and… satisfying to lavish my attention on.”

Maybe even loving, a small part of you, that warm, delicate flame rising through your abdomen, dares to hope.

As a shy smiles curls at your lips, you press your free hand to his chest, parting your lips to pretend to invite him back to your room when you spot a familiar figure in your periphery.

The smile on your face and the flame in your stomach wither at sight of one of your Association colleagues walking by a few feet away. He's dressed for the event. Like you, blending into the environment enough to make his undercover status undeniable.

No wonder you and Sylus hadn't spotted him.

Your eyes widen and your pulse spikes. “Shit,” you hiss under your breath, grabbing Sylus by the bicep and pivoting him so his back faces your colleague.

“What–"

"Wait," you whisper, leaning in as Sylus starts to turn. "It's one of my colleagues, a Hunter."

Sylus' posture straightens and he seems to get impossibly larger before your eyes as he steps closer to block you from view. "I thought you were the only Hunter here, kitten."

"I am. He's not even supposed to be here, he was one of the five deployed to the N109 Zone to find you," you explain. Your mind whirs, flitting through escape plans as you fiddle with the lapel of his jacket. "Unless they got called back because–"

"They think I'm here," Sylus finishes, brow and lips quirking into a wry expression. "I must say, kitten, I'm mildly impressed. I didn't think the Hunter's Association could be so…"

“Quick?”

His lips curve higher, dimpling his cheeks. “Capable.”

“Ass,” you mutter through your begrudging grin, setting your flute down. You grab the velvet box with one hand and Sylus' with the other, heart picking up as the familiar rush of adrenaline chases through your bloodstream. “Let’s get out of here.”

He lets you pull him out of the opulent room without resistance, lacing his fingers through yours and letting you set the pace as you do your best to make a hasty but silent exit in your impractical shoes.

“Not even going to buy me a drink first, sweetie?” he teases behind you, voice brimming with mirth. “How bold.”

You roll your eyes, turning your head to quip something back at him and–

Almost make eye contact with your colleague, who's eyes seem to darken in confusion when he spots the man at your side.

“Shit– Sylus,” you breathe, fingers instinctively tightening around his as you widen your eyes and shake your head subtly, the silent understanding, the mental lockstep, clicking into place as you find yourselves in a situation you know all too well: a chase.

Your heart is pounding now, every beat echoing in your ears as your mind races to calculate distances, exits, how long before–

You should've known it was only a matter of time before Sylus took the situation into his own hands, because suddenly there's an arm looping around your back, a familiar, black-red mist curling around your waist, and the power of Sylus and his evol warping you both away front he venue's entrance.

The world blurs as you’re whisked through the air, light smearing into streaks as your stomach drops and you shut your eyes on instinct. No matter how many times Sylus does this, no matter how controlled he always is, your body only ever trusts in the solid, unyielding security of his.

Within a split second you're both standing in front of the elevators, and Sylus is pulling you into one that's already open.

“Who needs a getaway driver when you have me, hm?” he quips lightly, guiding you inside with a reassuring hand on your back.

Your Hunter’s Watch beeps before you can answer and you mutter a curse when you realize it's a call for reinforcements.

The good news is your name isn’t mentioned anywhere. The bad news: Sylus using his evol has definitely confirmed their suspicions.

“Damn it, that was a call for backup. We need to go,” you urge, jabbing the garage button a few times.

Only when the doors slide shut with a soft ding just as a distant shout of “in the elevators!” echoes down the corridor do you release the breath your'e holding, a small amount of worry easing from your shoulders as the car begins its descent and the hum of motion grounds your racing pulse.

You turn to face Sylus who, of course, manages to look the perfectly inappropriate amount of amused and unbothered as he leans against the wall.

“Of course you’re not even winded,” you huff.

He chuckles, lifting his hands in a mock display of innocence. "You of all people know how much… exercise I get," he drawls, eyes darkening as they roam over your dress for at least the tenth time tonight. "Besides, I’d much rather–”

This time it's him who's cut off when the elevator jerks and what feels like a replay of the scene earlier tonight unfolds in front of you: Sylus locking one arm around your back, pressing you into his chest as the car shudders, and curving his shoulders to shelter you.

The only difference is the loud metallic screech that rips through the elevator and your eardrums, the lights flickering overhead, and the car lurching two more times before coming to a dead stop.

Oh, and the fact that when you both look up, the lights have cut out. And the only thing illuminating the space is the soft glow of the panel with every single button lit up.

You'd definitely gotten into the wrong elevator.

Slumping into Sylus’ chest, you bury your face into his throat and groan, “Not again.”

The elevator sits in a strange sort of quiet, the soft glow of the panel making the space feel relaxing and ambient when on the inside, you're feeling anything but.

Because without the rush of movement, the adrenaline of the chase, or the immediate threat of Sylus (or you, for that matter) being seen, your thoughts are taking up all the leftover space as they spiral.

"You know, if we'd stayed in the N109 Zone…"

You groan, thinking about how quickly your plans had crashed and burned. About how every detail you'd mapped out with the sole intention of giving him something normal, something indulgent, something that belonged entirely to him, had been unraveled.

"No Hunter's Association..."

You lean back against the wall, curl your fingers over the railing, and sigh. If you'd just turned around on your way to Linkon earlier that week like he'd suggested, he wouldn't be caught in the middle of a hotel filling with Hunters who wanted him dead.

"Top-of-the-line elevators..."

You roll your eyes through a smile, knowing he's trying to lighten the mood despite all of your grand ideas slipping further out of reach by the second. Replaced with contingency plans and escape routes again. On his birthday.

"One of the twins' surprise parties..."

You huff out a small laugh despite yourself. “That they’d trap us in a closet to keep a surprise.”

"That's a lil ironic coming from someone trapped in an elevator right now."

The unmistakable sound of Luke's voice crackles through the space, drawing your and Sylus' gazes up at the camera.

“Luke,” you bite out. "Was this you? You were supposed to make sure everything went smoothly tonight!"

An indignant gasp fizzles through the speaker. “Boss-lady, you wound me. I would never jeopardize your plans for—”

Static cuts him off, replaced by Kieran’s gravely tone. "Don't worry, we've got it all under control. All footage of boss-man looking like boss-man has been wiped, and the hallway or elevator CCTV won't be 'working' until tomorrow.”

You exhale, tension loosening slightly in your stomach. But it does nothing to reach the knot that continues to tighten it's hold on your lungs as the guilt continues to fester.

You sneak a glance at Sylus, convinced he's at least a little ticked off now that the boys were roped into this mess too, but he's just staring at the ceiling with a half-amused, half-proud grin on his face.

"Everything's fiiiine. Promise." Luke's cheerful lilt chimes back in. "Kier and I just need a few minutes to create a little... distraction. Then all you two have to do is walk outta the elevator and high-tail it to boss-man's car when the doors open."

"And try not to be seen by anyone on the way,” Kieran adds.

“I think we can manage a little subterfuge,” he calls to them as his attention settles back on you. “Right, sweetie?”

“Sure,” you concede, tipping your head back until it bumps the wall. “Fine. Just hurry up.”

“Anything for you, boss-lady,” Luke sing-songs, and you can practically see the teasing wink he's shoot your way as the line goes dead.

Leaving you to stew in your guilt once again.

Though some of the anxiety is soothed — you know the twins are more than capable of getting you out of here, it's why you had tasked them with wiring into the hotel security system in the first place — it doesn't fix the fact that Sylus' birthday celebration has, once again, gone sideways in the worst way.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt to the ceiling, head still tipped back as you bump it against the wall once with a small thud.

A confused rumble. “Hm?”

“I just… I wanted to go to the auction with you,” you start, your voice picking up pace as the dam holding back the trickle of your thoughts cracks. “And watch you sweep those protocores out from under everyone else's bids, and–”

Thud.

"Hey. It's–"

“–and eat the birthday cake I smuggled into our room, and actually let you have a night where you weren’t worrying about being tracked or followed, and instead–"

Thud.

“Kitten, it's fine. I–”

“–and instead! I pulled you into a broken elevator and got us stuck.” Thud. “With the Hunter’s Association outside because I brought you here on your birthday of all days–"

"Sweetie," Sylus cuts in firmly, the warning rumbling in his throat a complete contrast to the soft way his palms cup your jaw and force your focus onto him.

“Deep breath,” he commands softly, thumbs brushing slow, grounding strokes along your cheeks.

Sylus joins you as you inhale a deep breath through the tightness in your throat, hold it for a beat, and then exhale.

“Just like that,” he murmurs, brushing your loosened hair away from your cheeks and behind your ears as you feel all the rush in your body, your thoughts, your breath, your blood, slow to a steadier pace.

"Are you really not worried?" you ask after another deep breath, fingers absently smoothing along the smooth silk of his shirt as he raises an arm by your head and settles into it, into you.

"Why would I be?" He quirks a brow, his other hand toying with the seam of your dress that splits a slit over your thigh. A spike of pleasure shivers its way upward. "You have everything under control, sweetie. The disguises, the room, the boys."

And despite the levity of his tone, the ease with which he says them and the the casual intimacy of his touch, his absolute conviction in his eyes, a warm, deep scarlet in the dim light, manages to calm your panic. To seal the deluge of doubts that had been cracking at your mind since the moment you spotted your fellow Hunter at the auction.

The tip of his nose bumps into yours. "I trust you."

As the guilty thoughts finally settle, your breathing unsettles as his pointer and middle finger trace the V of the seam of your dress up and then down in a steady rhythm over the sensitive skin of your thigh, the same way he parts and traces the slit between your–

"You do?" you ask breathlessly, sliding your hands up his chest until they rest on either side of his neck, thumbs settling into the soft hair behind his ears while his fingers on your leg continue their lazy path up your thigh until they hike it up and wrap it over his hip to open you.

He hums and leans down, resting his lips over your pulse. "With my heart."

He parts his lips, teeth closing gently over your fluttering artery before releasing it. "With my life."

His head comes back up and his lips slot over yours in a deep, languid kiss, pulling away with a teasing smirk. "Though, maybe not with my protocores," he muses as your eyes simultaneously catch on the velvet box on its side on the floor.

You giggle and he nuzzles your throat, like he's trying to inhale the sweetness of the sound.

“There you are," he rumbles through a stampede of kisses on your tingling skin, goosebumps rising to meet his lips on their journey up your jaw and over your cheek until they settle back over your mouth.

"Here I am." You pull away with an unsteady sigh as his fingers finally press over the lace gusset of your underwear. "Unfortunately. For both of us," you joke through a wry grin.

"Only I get to be the judge of that." He shakes his head and his demanding lips descend on yours again and again with a series of low, displeased growls. Nimble fingers sliding beneath wet lace and pinching at your slippery, sensitive clit, sending a whimper through your throat and a buck through your hips as he adds to the punishment.

“You haven't brought me anything but good fortune, kitten.” You sigh, eyelashes fluttering as he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and sucks, as if to siphon away the harsh words you dared utter. "Given me every gift, fulfilled every fantasy I've ever had."

A flick of your clit and your lower lip sends a shudder through your muscles. “A redo of our first auction.”

A stroke of your pussy and a stroke of your tongue sends heat through your blood. "The sight of you in this dress."

"Getting caught– hmm–" He stutters as you start to press into the root of his cock with each roll your hips over his thigh, pushing his thick fingers into your clit over and over again. "Getting caught by an award-winning Hunter."

His words are pure gravel now, rolling through your stomach, making you laugh breathlessly as you realize he technically did get caught by a Hunter. Yanking his head down, you capture his lips, his teeth, his tongue with another series of moan-filled kisses.

Sylus growls and you squeal as he brings your other leg around his waist, pins you to the wall, presses his chest and stomach into you, slotting the straining heat of his cock into the damp heat of you. "So, what are you going to do with me, Miss Hunter?"

“Uh– hopefully nothing, boss-man… Because this is your thirty-second warning before we send this elevator to the garage.”

Luke's voice crackles back through the room, a bucket of ice that instantly douses the blaze of heat between you as Sylus rips his mouth from yours with a curse.

Irritation followed by resignation flash through his eyes, the warm glow of the dim lights illuminating the flush on his cheeks as he growls "Luke."

Luke’s cackle bursts through the speaker, "Boss-lady was the one who told us to hurry up. I'm just glad I stopped you when I did, you guys already have a lot of explaining to do to Mephie, he saw the–"

"Get back safe, lovebirds," Kieran chimes in with a final laugh before cutting the mic.

Sylus drops his forehead to yours with a disappointed sigh, both your chests still heaving as he closes his eyes and drops a kiss to your nose.

But when he tries to set your feet back on the ground, you tighten your legs around his waist, lock your elbows behind his neck, lean with love shining in your eyes and say, "Happy Birthday, Sylus."

And on the way down? You tell him everything Miss Hunter is going to do with her captive when you guys get home.

➻➻ MORE SYLUS FICS

When the valet nods, he hands both the bribe and the keys to his obscenely expensive car to the young man, who's doing his best to hide his enthusiasm behind careful deference and his repeated, “Yes, sir. Of course, sir. Right away, sir.”

Grinning as Sylus pats his shoulder and strides your way, you dramatically hold out your elbow as the valet gets into the car. “Hello, sir. Are you ready to go, sir?”

He shakes his head with an amused smirk as he reaches you, taking the duffel bag Luke and Kieran had packed (hopefully correctly.. and without any explosives) and folding your elbow back into your side by looping an arm around your waist, pulling you into the warmth of his side.

“You’re the one who said this… disguise would work," he drawls, tugging on the collar of his "low-quality" shirt for the second time in as many minutes.

Then again, he'd been in a slew of Skye's clothing this week so maybe his delicate skin was chafing by now.

When your Watch pinged with the news that the Association was revamping its search for the Leader of Onychinus with "all hands on deck" from all special units including the UNICORNS on the week of Sylus' birthday, you almost lost your mind on the back of his bike. And though Sylus assured you it was fine, that he'd turn around and you could celebrate quietly at the Base instead, you couldn’t bring yourself to give up On celebrating with him in Linkon, hand-in-hand, out in the open like you'd planned.

So with a few calls to Jenna, a text exchange with the twins, and a little creativity, you managed to turn the situation into a week-long itinerary of excursions around the city with your boyfriend.

Or, according to the ever-watchful gaze of the city's CCTV system: your favorite fruit vendor, Skye.

“Um, the disguise is not the problem,” you say, peeking over his bicep as his luxury car disappears from view with a raised brow. “The problem is the part where the fruit vendor stepped out of a car worth more than this building.”

As the doors to Linkon's most exclusive hotel are shut by the doormen behind you, the warm gold of the crystal chandeliers overhead illuminate his "humble" ensemble. You scoff internally when the light reflects off the buffed out tips of his simple leather shoes and the department-store belt dividing his plain, non-designer button-down and slacks. Because of course he still manages to look more like a model under a spotlight rather than a mildly successful entrepreneur in a lobby.

His chuckle fills the room, warm and syrupy and all too rich, wrapping around you in place of his arm as you approach the reception desk, greet the woman running it, and start the check-in process.

"What can I say, sweetie, my business ventures are thriving," he murmurs to the back of your head, quirking the corner of his lip up when the receptionist looks up and smiles at his approach. "Fruitful, some might even say."

You roll your eyes and lightly smack the back of your hand into his chest, hoping he's too busy teasing to notice her handing back your Hunter's Badge as well as your ID when you take your room key, your rooftop pass, and head to the elevators.

So far, everything had gone exactly to plan: escape rooms with the twins, a nighttime drag race, a shopping spree through Linkon’s antique stores, a sunset ride on your motorcycle. The fact that you and Sylus were doing all of it right under the Association’s nose only seemed to make it all the more enjoyable for him.

But today is Sylus’ actual birthday. And tonight is your big surprise.

An exclusive, invitation-only auction that just so happens to be featuring the protocore pair Sylus has had his eye on for months will be on the rooftop atrium this evening. You’d found out about it at work a month ago and managed to scheme your way into an extra invite by offering the organizer your services as an undercover Hunter, which not only let you keep the whole thing a secret, but also ensured none of your colleagues would be assigned here too.

Best of all, it meant that for one night, on a day dedicated entirely to him, Sylus wouldn’t have to be a fruit vendor. Or the Leader of Onychinus. Or the Association's most wanted man.

He could just be himself. Your handsome date at a fancy event. Your Sylus.

"So, do I get to know why we're spending the night at Linkon's finest hotel now–" a loaded pause as he holds up your pilfered Hunter's Badge with a flourish, "–Miss Hunter?"

You huff out an irritated breath as you reach out and snatch it back.

"No, you don't," you declare with a sniff. "Petty thiefs don't get rewarded."

Another one of his rich, syrup-sweet laughs pours over your skin as he leans a shoulder indolently against the wall and purses his lips in a pout. "Not even if it's the petty thief's birthday? That's just cruel, kitten."

You press the button to call down an elevator, brows raised. "It's also cruel to ruin other people's surprises."

"The twins only have themselves to blame for last year." He smirks at the memory of your time in the closet together. "And your surprise isn't ruined, if anything you're too good at them. Your schemes this week have been more elaborate than some of mine… even the fruitful ones."

"And thank the gods for that, mister businessman," you snort as the elevator arrives and opens with a ding. "Because you’d be a terrible comedian."

"Now that's just untrue." His palm steers you inside by the nape of your neck while you press your floor number. "Luke and Kieran think I'm funny."

"That's because you give them food. And sign their paychecks"

He hums.

A moment later you feel the warm brush of his breath over the curve of your ear, his low voice rasping over your skin like velvet. “You think I’m funny.”

The elevator’s stark lighting streaks through the swirls scarlet-painted mischief in his eyes when you turn to face him with a wicked smile, nose-to-nose.

"That's because you're good at giving me–"

Your sentence chokes off on a startled breath as the elevator suddenly jolts the ground beneath you and Sylus' arm instinctively pulls you into the shelter of his chest. His shoulders curl protectively over you, one of his hands pressing into your back, the other bracing against the wall behind you as the elevator shudders once more and then immediately whirs back to life.

“Alright?” he asks above your head after a beat, voice calm as the elevator continues its ascent like it hadn't been on the verge of dropping you and Sylus your deaths.

"I'm good." You press your palms into his chest to take a small step back and look around.

"Linkon's most exclusive five-star hotel," he mutters dryly, hand lingering at your back for a moment longer. He gives the ceiling a brief, unimpressed glance before retrieving the duffel he'd dropped.

"I'll call it into the front desk when we get to our room," you tell him, too focused on getting Sylus to the auction on time now to think about it too much more.

The elevator chimes pleasantly a second later, doors sliding open without a hitch so you and Sylus can make your way to your room.

But you get no more than two steps into the corridor before Sylus’ hand catches lightly at your wrist, turning you around when you turn to look at him by pulling it up to his chest.

“Now,” he says, silver brow raised, sinful lips curved as he leans in, “before the elevator so rudely interrupted you…”

He raises your wrist until it's caressing the side of his neck, his voice dropping along with his head as he brushes the words over your lips.

“What, exactly, were saying I was good at giving you?”

“So? Do you like it?”

Sylus looks up from the velvet box holding his new protocore pair when he hears your voice, his eyes like rubies as they take you in, edges cut into a sharp gaze that traces over the silhouette of your floor-length gown the colour of molten lava.

He hums, low and appreciative, as you sip from the glass of champagne you’d gone to get, your last for the night before you and Sylus head out.

“Yes. Beautiful,” he says, already reaching for you. His forearm catches the back of your hips, tugging you forward until the space between you disappears and the tip of his nose is dragging along your silk-clad stomach.

“Sylus—” You gasp out a laugh as the movement nearly spills liquid over the rim. Your free hand slips into his hair at the nape of his neck to give it a playful tug. “I meant your beautiful new protocore set, silly.”

“Oh, that.” He smirks, pressing his cheek to your abdomen to look at them, as if to refresh his memory on what they looked like. "I'm sure they'll satisfy me just fine."

He stands then, uncoiling to his full height, and the movement gives you the chance to appreciate him again.

Gone are Skye’s cheap cotton and department-store threads. In their place, a sharply tailored maroon and charcoal suit jacket hugs his muscular frame, the fabric rich and high-end, paired with charcoal trousers that fall cleanly over his polished shoes. A black silk button-down lies open just beneath it, enough to tease the line of his broad chest. A maroon silk ribbon wrapped loosely around his throat, an elegant leash that tempts you to try your hand at taming a beautiful beast.

But even that struggles to compete with the look in his eyes, you think, as you tip your head to study the angular lines of his beloved face. A sonnet of adoration that his irises have been reciting since the moment you'd opened the duffel bag in your "Fruit Vendor Budget" hotel room and presented him with your garments and plans for the night. Lingering, appreciative.

“But I can think of something far more beautiful and… satisfying to lavish my attention on.”

Maybe even loving, a small part of you, that warm, delicate flame rising through your abdomen, dares to hope.

As a shy smiles curls at your lips, you press your free hand to his chest, parting your lips to pretend to invite him back to your room when you spot a familiar figure in your periphery.

The smile on your face and the flame in your stomach wither at sight of one of your Association colleagues walking by a few feet away. He's dressed for the event. Like you, blending into the environment enough to make his undercover status undeniable.

No wonder you and Sylus hadn't spotted him.

Your eyes widen and your pulse spikes. “Shit,” you hiss under your breath, grabbing Sylus by the bicep and pivoting him so his back faces your colleague.

“What–"

"Wait," you whisper, leaning in as Sylus starts to turn. "It's one of my colleagues, a Hunter."

Sylus' posture straightens and he seems to get impossibly larger before your eyes as he steps closer to block you from view. "I thought you were the only Hunter here, kitten."

"I am. He's not even supposed to be here, he was one of the five deployed to the N109 Zone to find you," you explain. Your mind whirs, flitting through escape plans as you fiddle with the lapel of his jacket. "Unless they got called back because–"

"They think I'm here," Sylus finishes, brow and lips quirking into a wry expression. "I must say, kitten, I'm mildly impressed. I didn't think the Hunter's Association could be so…"

“Quick?”

His lips curve higher, dimpling his cheeks. “Capable.”

“Ass,” you mutter through your begrudging grin, setting your flute down. You grab the velvet box with one hand and Sylus' with the other, heart picking up as the familiar rush of adrenaline chases through your bloodstream. “Let’s get out of here.”

He lets you pull him out of the opulent room without resistance, lacing his fingers through yours and letting you set the pace as you do your best to make a hasty but silent exit in your impractical shoes.

“Not even going to buy me a drink first, sweetie?” he teases behind you, voice brimming with mirth. “How bold.”

You roll your eyes, turning your head to quip something back at him and–

Almost make eye contact with your colleague, who's eyes seem to darken in confusion when he spots the man at your side.

“Shit– Sylus,” you breathe, fingers instinctively tightening around his as you widen your eyes and shake your head subtly, the silent understanding, the mental lockstep, clicking into place as you find yourselves in a situation you know all too well: a chase.

Your heart is pounding now, every beat echoing in your ears as your mind races to calculate distances, exits, how long before–

You should've known it was only a matter of time before Sylus took the situation into his own hands, because suddenly there's an arm looping around your back, a familiar, black-red mist curling around your waist, and the power of Sylus and his evol warping you both away front he venue's entrance.

The world blurs as you’re whisked through the air, light smearing into streaks as your stomach drops and you shut your eyes on instinct. No matter how many times Sylus does this, no matter how controlled he always is, your body only ever trusts in the solid, unyielding security of his.

Within a split second you're both standing in front of the elevators, and Sylus is pulling you into one that's already open.

“Who needs a getaway driver when you have me, hm?” he quips lightly, guiding you inside with a reassuring hand on your back.

Your Hunter’s Watch beeps before you can answer and you mutter a curse when you realize it's a call for reinforcements.

The good news is your name isn’t mentioned anywhere. The bad news: Sylus using his evol has definitely confirmed their suspicions.

“Damn it, that was a call for backup. We need to go,” you urge, jabbing the garage button a few times.

Only when the doors slide shut with a soft ding just as a distant shout of “in the elevators!” echoes down the corridor do you release the breath your'e holding, a small amount of worry easing from your shoulders as the car begins its descent and the hum of motion grounds your racing pulse.

You turn to face Sylus who, of course, manages to look the perfectly inappropriate amount of amused and unbothered as he leans against the wall.

“Of course you’re not even winded,” you huff.

He chuckles, lifting his hands in a mock display of innocence. "You of all people know how much… exercise I get," he drawls, eyes darkening as they roam over your dress for at least the tenth time tonight. "Besides, I’d much rather–”

This time it's him who's cut off when the elevator jerks and what feels like a replay of the scene earlier tonight unfolds in front of you: Sylus locking one arm around your back, pressing you into his chest as the car shudders, and curving his shoulders to shelter you.

The only difference is the loud metallic screech that rips through the elevator and your eardrums, the lights flickering overhead, and the car lurching two more times before coming to a dead stop.

Oh, and the fact that when you both look up, the lights have cut out. And the only thing illuminating the space is the soft glow of the panel with every single button lit up.

You'd definitely gotten into the wrong elevator.

Slumping into Sylus’ chest, you bury your face into his throat and groan, “Not again.”

The elevator sits in a strange sort of quiet, the soft glow of the panel making the space feel relaxing and ambient when on the inside, you're feeling anything but.

Because without the rush of movement, the adrenaline of the chase, or the immediate threat of Sylus (or you, for that matter) being seen, your thoughts are taking up all the leftover space as they spiral.

"You know, if we'd stayed in the N109 Zone…"

You groan, thinking about how quickly your plans had crashed and burned. About how every detail you'd mapped out with the sole intention of giving him something normal, something indulgent, something that belonged entirely to him, had been unraveled.

"No Hunter's Association..."

You lean back against the wall, curl your fingers over the railing, and sigh. If you'd just turned around on your way to Linkon earlier that week like he'd suggested, he wouldn't be caught in the middle of a hotel filling with Hunters who wanted him dead.

"Top-of-the-line elevators..."

You roll your eyes through a smile, knowing he's trying to lighten the mood despite all of your grand ideas slipping further out of reach by the second. Replaced with contingency plans and escape routes again. On his birthday.

"One of the twins' surprise parties..."

You huff out a small laugh despite yourself. “That they’d trap us in a closet to keep a surprise.”

"That's a lil ironic coming from someone trapped in an elevator right now."

The unmistakable sound of Luke's voice crackles through the space, drawing your and Sylus' gazes up at the camera.

“Luke,” you bite out. "Was this you? You were supposed to make sure everything went smoothly tonight!"

An indignant gasp fizzles through the speaker. “Boss-lady, you wound me. I would never jeopardize your plans for—”

Static cuts him off, replaced by Kieran’s gravely tone. "Don't worry, we've got it all under control. All footage of boss-man looking like boss-man has been wiped, and the hallway or elevator CCTV won't be 'working' until tomorrow.”

You exhale, tension loosening slightly in your stomach. But it does nothing to reach the knot that continues to tighten it's hold on your lungs as the guilt continues to fester.

You sneak a glance at Sylus, convinced he's at least a little ticked off now that the boys were roped into this mess too, but he's just staring at the ceiling with a half-amused, half-proud grin on his face.

"Everything's fiiiine. Promise." Luke's cheerful lilt chimes back in. "Kier and I just need a few minutes to create a little... distraction. Then all you two have to do is walk outta the elevator and high-tail it to boss-man's car when the doors open."

"And try not to be seen by anyone on the way,” Kieran adds.

“I think we can manage a little subterfuge,” he calls to them as his attention settles back on you. “Right, sweetie?”

“Sure,” you concede, tipping your head back until it bumps the wall. “Fine. Just hurry up.”

“Anything for you, boss-lady,” Luke sing-songs, and you can practically see the teasing wink he's shoot your way as the line goes dead.

Leaving you to stew in your guilt once again.

Though some of the anxiety is soothed — you know the twins are more than capable of getting you out of here, it's why you had tasked them with wiring into the hotel security system in the first place — it doesn't fix the fact that Sylus' birthday celebration has, once again, gone sideways in the worst way.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt to the ceiling, head still tipped back as you bump it against the wall once with a small thud.

A confused rumble. “Hm?”

“I just… I wanted to go to the auction with you,” you start, your voice picking up pace as the dam holding back the trickle of your thoughts cracks. “And watch you sweep those protocores out from under everyone else's bids, and–”

Thud.

"Hey. It's–"

“–and eat the birthday cake I smuggled into our room, and actually let you have a night where you weren’t worrying about being tracked or followed, and instead–"

Thud.

“Kitten, it's fine. I–”

“–and instead! I pulled you into a broken elevator and got us stuck.” Thud. “With the Hunter’s Association outside because I brought you here on your birthday of all days–"

"Sweetie," Sylus cuts in firmly, the warning rumbling in his throat a complete contrast to the soft way his palms cup your jaw and force your focus onto him.

“Deep breath,” he commands softly, thumbs brushing slow, grounding strokes along your cheeks.

Sylus joins you as you inhale a deep breath through the tightness in your throat, hold it for a beat, and then exhale.

“Just like that,” he murmurs, brushing your loosened hair away from your cheeks and behind your ears as you feel all the rush in your body, your thoughts, your breath, your blood, slow to a steadier pace.

"Are you really not worried?" you ask after another deep breath, fingers absently smoothing along the smooth silk of his shirt as he raises an arm by your head and settles into it, into you.

"Why would I be?" He quirks a brow, his other hand toying with the seam of your dress that splits a slit over your thigh. A spike of pleasure shivers its way upward. "You have everything under control, sweetie. The disguises, the room, the boys."

And despite the levity of his tone, the ease with which he says them and the the casual intimacy of his touch, his absolute conviction in his eyes, a warm, deep scarlet in the dim light, manages to calm your panic. To seal the deluge of doubts that had been cracking at your mind since the moment you spotted your fellow Hunter at the auction.

The tip of his nose bumps into yours. "I trust you."

As the guilty thoughts finally settle, your breathing unsettles as his pointer and middle finger trace the V of the seam of your dress up and then down in a steady rhythm over the sensitive skin of your thigh, the same way he parts and traces the slit between your–

"You do?" you ask breathlessly, sliding your hands up his chest until they rest on either side of his neck, thumbs settling into the soft hair behind his ears while his fingers on your leg continue their lazy path up your thigh until they hike it up and wrap it over his hip to open you.

He hums and leans down, resting his lips over your pulse. "With my heart."

He parts his lips, teeth closing gently over your fluttering artery before releasing it. "With my life."

His head comes back up and his lips slot over yours in a deep, languid kiss, pulling away with a teasing smirk. "Though, maybe not with my protocores," he muses as your eyes simultaneously catch on the velvet box on its side on the floor.

You giggle and he nuzzles your throat, like he's trying to inhale the sweetness of the sound.

“There you are," he rumbles through a stampede of kisses on your tingling skin, goosebumps rising to meet his lips on their journey up your jaw and over your cheek until they settle back over your mouth.

"Here I am." You pull away with an unsteady sigh as his fingers finally press over the lace gusset of your underwear. "Unfortunately. For both of us," you joke through a wry grin.

"Only I get to be the judge of that." He shakes his head and his demanding lips descend on yours again and again with a series of low, displeased growls. Nimble fingers sliding beneath wet lace and pinching at your slippery, sensitive clit, sending a whimper through your throat and a buck through your hips as he adds to the punishment.

“You haven't brought me anything but good fortune, kitten.” You sigh, eyelashes fluttering as he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and sucks, as if to siphon away the harsh words you dared utter. "Given me every gift, fulfilled every fantasy I've ever had."

A flick of your clit and your lower lip sends a shudder through your muscles. “A redo of our first auction.”

A stroke of your pussy and a stroke of your tongue sends heat through your blood. "The sight of you in this dress."

"Getting caught– hmm–" He stutters as you start to press into the root of his cock with each roll your hips over his thigh, pushing his thick fingers into your clit over and over again. "Getting caught by an award-winning Hunter."

His words are pure gravel now, rolling through your stomach, making you laugh breathlessly as you realize he technically did get caught by a Hunter. Yanking his head down, you capture his lips, his teeth, his tongue with another series of moan-filled kisses.

Sylus growls and you squeal as he brings your other leg around his waist, pins you to the wall, presses his chest and stomach into you, slotting the straining heat of his cock into the damp heat of you. "So, what are you going to do with me, Miss Hunter?"

“Uh– hopefully nothing, boss-man… Because this is your thirty-second warning before we send this elevator to the garage.”

Luke's voice crackles back through the room, a bucket of ice that instantly douses the blaze of heat between you as Sylus rips his mouth from yours with a curse.

Irritation followed by resignation flash through his eyes, the warm glow of the dim lights illuminating the flush on his cheeks as he growls "Luke."

Luke’s cackle bursts through the speaker, "Boss-lady was the one who told us to hurry up. I'm just glad I stopped you when I did, you guys already have a lot of explaining to do to Mephie, he saw the–"

"Get back safe, lovebirds," Kieran chimes in with a final laugh before cutting the mic.

Sylus drops his forehead to yours with a disappointed sigh, both your chests still heaving as he closes his eyes and drops a kiss to your nose.

But when he tries to set your feet back on the ground, you tighten your legs around his waist, lock your elbows behind his neck, lean with love shining in your eyes and say, "Happy Birthday, Sylus."

And on the way down? You tell him everything Miss Hunter is going to do with her captive when you guys get home.

➻➻ MORE SYLUS FICS

“what’s it called?”

“uh.” you look up, digging through recent receipts and credit card statements. “dragon…”

he draws in another breath of you.

“fire…” you gasp when he nips at your skin with his teeth, unable to hold back any longer. “…kiss?”

he freezes, then chuckles. “ah.”

“ah?” you frown when he lifts his head. his lips land on your hair. “what do you mean, ah?”

“ah, this makes sense.” he grins, planting more possessive pecks onto your forehead. even up here your sweet scent drives him into a frenzy. “how much did you get it for?”

you purse your lips and suddenly you’re bashful. never once in your relationship has he asked you about prices, having said at the very beginning that it would take decades for you to even make a dent into his fortune no matter how much you consume.

it shouldn’t be a point of shame either, because he actively asks you to use his card for anything you might need. yet, confronted with it now… it’s harder to admit that you’d thought a luxurious bottle justified such a price for a few drops of product.

and like he reads each thought you just had, he bends to kiss your lips gently, to coax you out of the spell. “i don’t mean to pry.”

“i think i spent too much.”

“no,” he drawls, utterly entertained by you. “not at all, sweetie.”

you pout. “then, why…?”

“you don’t have to buy this again,” he’s like a bird, pecking at the skin of your blushing face with butterfly kisses.

you open your mouth— to bite, to complain, to express the frustrating confusion he’s wringing you into.