Delulu Is The Solulu

It’s especially worse when you’ve been away from each other. Whether it’s countless hours on the hospital floor or Wanderer-heavy missions, your nerves still had enough buzz from the lightest touch of his fingers and his stamina never faltered. Tonight was one of those nights. You were home first, as usual, the ache of battle weighing on your limbs. Each boot was toed off, gun holsters and harnesses hung before you dragged yourself to the shower.

The spray carried the perfect amount of heat, melting tension that had clung to you for weeks. Your head tilted back with relief, a deep sigh blowing from between your lips. Your loose college tshirt and weathered sweatpants felt like a dream compared to the confines of your Hunter uniform. Now all that was left was dinner, something warm and comforting to help you settle. Left over vegetables, paired with noodles and broth—just what you needed as the sound of rain tapped lightly on the windows. The kitchen smelled savory and the air was thick. As you prepared two servings of soup, the lock clicking open made your ears twitch.

Zayne shuffled out of his coat and shoes, loosening the black tie from around his neck. You heard him sigh from the foyer, meeting him half way as he walked to the living room. “You’re home,” you said, arms lifting around his neck. He pulled you in close, face burrowing into your shoulder. Zayne was quiet for a moment, savoring your touch and warmth—the lingering scent of your jasmine shampoo. “I am, missed you,” he murmured, voice low and strained. You turned your head to kiss him, it was slow, worshipful, saying “home feels like home when you’re here”.

Reluctantly you pulled away, meeting his hazel eyes. “Dinner’s on the table, come eat.” Your concoction of leftovers brought him back to life, like water to a wilted bloom. Color rose in his cheeks and his body fell slack. “Delicious. Thank you.” You hummed lightly, ridding the table of your empty bowls. You cradled his head in your arms, he nuzzled against your stomach. “Movie? Or we could just call it a night?,” you offered, combing through his raven hair. The feeling of your nails against his scalp almost elicited a groan, but Zayne stood instead, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Shower first, then bed.”

Running water was muffled behind the bathroom door, a hint of steam creeping through the cracks. His body wash already filled your senses, followed by crisp aftershave. Zayne forwent pajamas, donning only a pair of boxers to bed. Although he wasn’t parading himself around the bedroom, his body was hard to ignore. Those morning runs kept him lean, while calisthenics made his muscles full and enticing. “You look more lively, now,” he teased, easing into the sheets. You swung a leg over his hip, inching as close as your bodies allowed. “Just happy we’re in bed at the same time, for once.”

Zayne nodded, resting a hand on your thigh. He traced it gently, absently, content to just look at you. You, on the other hand, were fighting your body’s need to pounce. Already aching between your legs, a small whine escaped you, making his hand flinch. “Don’t—don’t stop touching me…,” you pleaded. A shallow breath caused his ribs to stretch and chest heave. The fight wasn’t worth it anymore, not when the cause of your undoing pulled your hips flush to his. “I take it we’re not going to be sleeping, yet?,” he murmured, a finger running along the inside of your sweats. “Mm-mm. Need you…need this,” you sighed, palming the heavy length between Zayne’s legs.

He hissed at your touch, the warmth of your hand wrapping around his clothed cock. “Wanna feel you…miss being full…” You felt him grow in your grasp, felt the pulse beating just beneath a thin layer of fabric. “Mmh, if you keep talking like that, l’ll have to do something about that filthy mouth,” Zayne groaned, fucking himself into your hand. His words already had you dripping, your thighs sticky with slick. “Promise?,” you purred, breaching the cotton barrier, running your thumb over his crown. Your wrist was caught before you could work him further, his grip moving to hold your jaw. “If you’re going to be this crude, you might as well start here,” Zayne held himself at the base, stroking himself lazily. “Show me your tongue.”

Getting comfortable between his legs, you presented your tongue, pink and glistening. He tapped his tip against it, teasing you with a taste of salt and skin. You wrapped your lips around him, he groaned, sliding in another thick inch. “Look at me,” you obeyed, watching his gaze soften. “So pretty, love…open your throat, hm?.” Another inch, full and claiming making drool collect at the corners of your mouth. Wearing shorts was pointless now, they were already ruined, sticking to your pussy and inner thighs. Zayne pulled his cock from your mouth, wiping the spit off your chin with his thumb. Then he kissed gou, tasting the remnants of himself, caging you in against the pillows. His lips moved to your neck, fierce and hot, teeth grazing the skin. You arched into him, “Zayne…more…”

He moaned against your shoulder, pushing himself between your thighs. “Where do you need me? Here?,” his voice dripped with honey, the pads of his fingers sinking into your soaked folds. Your nails left crescent shaped marks in his skin, biting back the noises bubbling in your chest. “God, how are you always this wet…?,” he rasped, pulling his fingers away to taste you. “And this sweet…” The cool air finally kissed your damp skin, your pajamas tossed somewhere. Zayne took a moment to admire you. Pliant, legs falling open, there was no doubt your pussy would swallow him without resistance. But first…

It was only fair for him to return the favor, leaving a trail of kisses before falling eye level with your core. “Mm, so pretty, angel…so ready,” he murmured, running the back of his fingers over your clit. He always caressed you like something sacred, as if you were carved from the smoothest marble. Every touch deliberate, precise…just where you needed him—exactly where you ached. His tongue dragged from entrance to clit, nuzzling his face deeper into your warmth. The faint friction from his stubble made you arch and buck, fingers fisting the sheets. “Fuck, Zayne…,” you whimpered, memorizing every lap from his tongue. He was just as gone, buried nose deep, the bass from his moans melting you off the bone.

Your hips rolled, pussy grinding against his chin, already close—toes curling as your first climax approached. Zayne sank two fingers inside, knuckle deep, the chill from his wedding band contrasting to the heat of your walls. “Mmnnn,” he growled roughly, pumping both digits a bit faster. “Haah…yes, just like that..,” you mewled, biting your lower lip hard. Aside from your voice, the sounds Zayne worked from your pussy were just as angelic, lewd and only for him. He curled his fingers, massaging that spot that blanched your vision. In seconds, you were wailing, gushing around Zayne’s fingers and mouth. Not a single drop was waisted, he drank from you like an oasis, grinding his cock into the mattress.

Before you could catch your breath, you were met with the heady taste of your slick as he kissed you. Deep and reverent, sounds of desperation exchanged between frantic lips. “Do you want to keep going?,” he breathed, smoothing the hair away from your eyes. You tangled your limbs around him, pulling him closer, the weight of his length resting against your heat. “Please. Don’t make me wait…” Zayne nodded, lining up to your entrance, “relax, darling.” The soft command in his tone had your body melting into the bedding. He sank inside so easily, eliciting an echoed whimper from the both of you. “Perfect…you always take me so well, love,” he praised. Your heart and walls fluttered, you wanted him close, melded into one. Every thrust was languid, yet deep, almost kissing your cervix. Zayne’s face made home in the crook of your neck, his words full of worship.

“You’re so good for me, aren’t you? So beautiful…holding onto me so—ah—tightly.” Arousal leaked down the crease of your ass, darkening the sheets with a wet stain. The sounds coming from between you were filthy, as if your pussy had a voice of its own. Zayne couldn’t stop throbbing inside you, the grip he had on your hips was bruising and possessive. “I only want you to sound like this for me. To make of mess that only my mouth can taste. Is that too selfish?,” he rambled, right in your ear, low and husky. Words were difficult to form, all your attention was drawn to the constant plunge of Zayne’s cock, how his lips brushed the pulse in your neck. “Tell me, love…let me hear you…,” he urged, almost begging. His thrusts grew a bit heavier, picking up speed. You choked out, “mmh! O-only want to be yours, Zayne. Only you make me feel this good…”

“Mm—keep talking…you sound so pretty.”

“I want you to be—ah—selfish, to claim me…to keep fucking me hard like this..,” you keened, heels digging into his back. A growl rumbled in his chest, the sound feral and charged with possession. Zayne brought the pad of his thumb to your clit, rubbing the bud in tight circles. Your breaths left in short pants, breasts heaving as you felt the coil inside you strain. “Cum for me, please, make a mess of me…,” he rasped.

“Be a good girl…”

Your body felt like a bow string drawn tight, then finally released as you poured yourself out for him. “Zayne—mmm Zayne!,” you cried, leaving his abdomen soaked, fluids flowing down your thighs. Your walls clamped so hard that it ripped a groan from his lips. Warm ropes of cum filled you to the brim, rutting deeper inside as Zayne chased the last waves of his climax. He didn’t pull out right away, didn’t want to forget the way you held onto him, how you accepted him deeper even as your bodies relaxed. You didn’t protest, this was the closest you could be without wanting to crawl beneath his skin.

Finally, you felt him abandon you, the emptiness pulling a whimper from your pouty lips. “Come on, let’s clean up a bit,” he soothed, pulling you close to his chest. Instead of a quick shower, Zayne filled the tub—adding a scoop of your favorite bath salts. The water blanketed you in warmth as you sank in to your shoulders, your husband, resting behind you. His arms came around your waist, hugging you close to his frame. “How are you feeling?,” he murmured, tracing gentle patterns on your skin. You hummed, eyelids heavy with contentment, “good…sleepy..” Zayne chuckled, giving your hips a brief rub, “I don’t have to be at the hospital too early tomorrow, we can sleep in.” Music to your ears. “And breakfast together?,” you added. A sound left him that was soft and endearing, because he couldn’t have asked for a more perfect scenario.

“Yes, of course.”

Zayne left you to soak a little longer as he changed the bedding, tossing the soiled sheets into the hamper. You crawled into bed, nude, craving the feeling of skin on skin. He followed, his embrace was grounding and secure. You both had the best sleep you’d had in what felt like ages, so much so that waking up didn’t feel like a struggle. The scent of butter and syrup made your eye flutter open, you practically floated to the kitchen. Zayne had just finished flipping a fluffy, golden pancake—hair slightly tousled, robe loosely tied. You hugged his from behind, leaving a kiss between his shoulder blades.

“Good morning,” he said, voice rough with remnants of sleep. “G’morning, Zaynie,” you replied. After the dishes were cleared and washed, Zayne glanced at his watch, sighing and looking a bit melancholy. “It’s okay, your patients need you.” He smiled, wordlessly appreciating your never waning understanding. “Be safe today, I’ll pick you up from the association,” he replied, pressing a ‘good-bye’ kiss to your lips.

It was moments like the night before and this morning together that reminded you this is exactly how you always wanted to be loved.

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