𖤓art

something’s not right. his voice is faint, almost drifting in the smoke. his breath doesn’t settle in like it used to. the strong pulse in his ears, an echo of his soul, is unlike the barely-there rhythm it used to dwell in. his heart trembles the more smoke gets into his nose.

something’s definitely not right with that wanderer either. the infuriated beast was a bit too feisty, but this outcome was not expected with this grade of wanderers, or any, really. thousands of years’ worth of experience, all at his disposal, and yet xavier can’t figure out or do anything about this stupid smoke. irritated, his hand comes over his nose; he doesn’t pause to acknowledge the unusual smoothness of his hands that are often calloused. no time for that.

“can you hear me, (name)?!”

no response comes, which only fuels xavier to keep fanning and move through the blackness. when the smoke finally clears out, he sees them — fingers, relatively smaller fingers, ones that most definitely were not his, just like the hunter’s uniform that now sits on his body. he’s certain that his own uniform did not have this black leather nor a crop top.

his lips part, struggling for a breath. “huh?”

this voice...?

taken aback, he tries to speak again.

“(name)?”

and xavier stops, a conclusion dawning on him quickly. why does he sound so much like you? he missteps on a broken crate; the crack is loud enough to startle him, goosebumps shooting up his arms, cold finding place in his limbs that felt too small.

he looks down at his body.

why does he look so much like you?

his ears, slowly recovering from the sound waves from the protocurves, adjust to the receding levels. soon, he hears his own voice somewhere in the warehouse, more specifically, calls of his name.

this wasn’t a... dream?

“xavier?”

a few footsteps thump against the cemented floor of the abandoned warehouse, causing xavier to look up. it is indeed his own voice calling his name. the lingering smoke curves around a figure he wakes up to see every day in a mirror: it’s you who finally step out of a hidden corner, or was it even you? xavier has never seen himself look so meek. his body looks unusually tight, like joints bending to a gravity that suddenly feels too strong. his face mimics a frown, no doubt your doing.

“that... wanderer?” he sees you look around, silver hair gleaming in the dusk light. is that how his hair usually looks? you return to him, blue eyes piercing enough — his blue eyes.

“i-i think it got away.”

this can’t be...

xavier wills himself to say. “u-unfortunate.”

a mere comment, he can’t even force anything out — confirmation, consolation. his throat is wrapping around something prickly the moment he hears himself speak, almost mistaking himself for you instead. he wants to rub at his nape, an urge of an old habit, though he doesn’t know if it’s even appropriate for him in the least; it’s your body after all. he should be ashamed.

“and... this?” you mutter after some time of contemplating. your arms lift and spread to the sides, gesturing to your body — well, his.

“switching bodies? how can this even happen?” your arms flop back down, and the frown on your, or rather his, face deepens. you freeze, the dim light from outside framing your disbelief in an almost cruel manner.

“don’t tell me we are—”

“it must be that wanderer’s doing.”

xavier speaks whatever you must be thinking. perhaps it was the protocurves from that wanderer’s protocore or the black smoke it emitted right before fleeing. he, too, looks around, but for nothing, because seeing the pained expression on your face is too cumbersome for him right now. he can’t believe how he managed to miss the faint spike in the levels. this mistake of his is going to cost too much; the consequences are already here, after all...

your eyes fall to the rotten floor: moldy wood that instantly grosses him out, and prickly grass that would have definitely left rashes on bare skin. he shouldn’t have accepted this mission.

“what do we do now?”

nothing — and xavier says the same to you. he desperately wants to say something else, to ease your mind a little, but he can’t do anything. he stands still, just like you, watching your grip on his blazer that is slowly making his head spin. all he affords in the end is a pull on your hand before he’s leading you back out into the open forest. there’s no other logical choice but to wait until tomorrow morning. the wanderer has long shaken the two of you off its trail, so no point in chasing it, and the association would probably be closing right about now, judging by the way sheer moonlight lands on the ground instead of orangey rays from dusk.

you are silent as he brings you back to the entrance of the warehouse his evol just blasted moments ago. now, he can’t even sense it anymore, nor can he manipulate yours.

he turns to you suddenly. “can you try to use my evol?”

hope flares into something bright. maybe you can, or even teleport the both of you? it should be feasible enough; it is you, after all.

you look at him, bewildered, before slowly lifting a closed fist against your chest, silver eyebrows cinched with concentration. c’mon. c’mon. a few minutes pass, filled with heavy breathing and unspoken prayers, but only dust particles float where a golden light should have begun to shine.

“i... don’t think it will work,” you mutter, the now open fist dropping to your side.

you become silent again, only compelling him to fill in for you. “we’ll have to wait this out then.”

xavier sighs deeply and begins walking again, carefully guiding you through the shattered glass from the windows that line the way to the front gates. the dread that washes over him is unlike anything. this places both of you in a far more vulnerable state than he wants. he needs to get you both home safely now.

“this, uh, effect might wear off soon. i’ll have... jeremiah investigate this.”

xavier bites his lips.

if the florist is even awake at this time, that is...

outside the warehouse, the pale moonlight strikes xavier more vividly. the forest seems to breathe more languidly, making him wonder if another threat was creeping under the green canopy. your hand tugs on his just as you reach your bike, parked right where the main road cuts through the forest. your eyes are glossy, twinkling stars making a home in a familiar blue, but he knows not to comment on them even though the sight of his teary eyes is quite mortifying right now. he hears you inhale sharply, finally looking down at him.

the height difference is weird, too weird; he doesn’t know how you have managed to keep your neck cranked up to even look at him all this time. he gulps. “(name)?”

your eyes fall shut. “please don’t tell anything to anyone.”

you must be feeling incredibly awkward. so he is! truly. the heat in his cheeks says it all. but you don’t know that... your eyes don’t open anytime soon, so xavier steals the chance to look at the sky. it’s a full moon tonight, and he doesn’t like the foreboding it seems to reveal.

he faces you again, repressing a sigh that was pleading for release. “o-of course, don’t worry.”

your eyes finally open, that taunting blue, and you whisper sorry with another tug on his hand, as if you are still not convinced enough. “i... should have been more cautious.”

“i should have been too. it’s not your fault. don’t worry.”

if you think xavier’s angry at you, then you’re wrong. how can he ever be angry at you? he squeezes your hand back with a smile that would calm you, surely.

“okay?”

you nod. “okay.”

he wonders if it felt like looking at a photo for you.

“all right, we should head back now.”

xavier bites down his rumination and encourages you to start your bike with a pat on your... broad shoulders.

it’s going to be a long night.

“xavier!”

“(name)—” he stops the elevator doors with his foot. “what’s wrong?”

the heel of your shoes is beginning to hurt his ankles. he is definitely going to file a complaint with hr for a change in the uniforms once everything returns to normal. you, on the other hand, seem to walk just fine, as you come before the open elevator again, your hands clasped together, that same cinched expression on your face.

your energy has been off ever since the two of you came back. the ride home wasn’t anything memorable, apart from the times you accidentally bent on a corner more than what should be considered safe. his eyes fall to your shoes, his choice for today. xavier gets it; it’s strange walking, breathing in a body not yours, let alone riding a bike.

no accidents or attacks happened, fortunately. that should have been fine and soothed whatever dread he was feeling back in that warehouse, but what he doesn’t understand is the tightness he’s beginning to feel in his abdomen. the feeling is familiar, little beats of heat that lingered right on the cusp of remembering before vanishing before he could connect the dots. not dread, of course not.

xavier licks his lips, your taste more rich, while your own lips part:

“can you... stay the night? at my apartment, i mean?”

your voice trembles with a rasp, taking him back to the moments when he’s just woken up. his gaze moves up, from the thigh straps he usually wore to the high neck of his black turtleneck peeking underneath your neck. are you feeling those little beats of heat too? he asks himself. is that why you are asking for him? not as a friend, but something entirely different. he blinks and remains silent for some seconds, listening to your unusually slow breaths. the elevator begins to close once again, before xavier places his foot in between the doors once more.

“are you sure?”

his concern shouldn’t have been forced. he eyes the tight bite of your lips this time. whatever is going on with you, he’s sure he’s not going to last against it much longer. how can he though? he questions himself again before saying, his voice low:

“i don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or do anything... inappropriate.”

inappropriate. xavier stretches the word more than enough — enough for you to finally see the stakes.

your eyes widen immediately. “no! no—”

you finally speak, or rather, yell, pearly white teeth letting go of the plush, pink skin. he sees your hands shoot up, reaching for him through the elevator, not caring about the dinging light or the opening and closing doors stopped by his foot. someone must be waiting on some other floor, but he wishes to stay here, in this small metallic box, for a while longer.

“oh? what is it then, (name)?”

his voice is already teetering on a tone he’s aimed at you more times than he can count. however, considering the tricky situation right now, xavier isn’t sure if you can even catch the flirty notes when it is your own voice. or... his gaze narrows.

“i-i just don’t want anything bad to happen!”

a familiar red seeps into your cheeks, making his breath hitch. apparently, you can — like, you know, like you’ll find him, and his little quirks, and his soul no matter the skin he’s wearing, no matter what. you refuse to meet his gaze and turn around, making him more laden with want than worry.

“please? i am just... worried. that’s all.” you look over your shoulder.

xavier can barely hear your pleas with your back facing him, but he yields anyway, not that he won’t. he steps off the elevator, reaching for your big hand that seems to radiate heat — a familiar kind that is already making waves inside him.

“all right.”

another easy smile for you, as he rubs his thumb on your knuckles, hoping you’d repay him. and you do, albeit a small one, but it’s enough for him.

at last, he can name the familiar feeling within him, even if it comes at the expense of his dignity. it’s difficult to discern if your worry is also just protecting something far more carnal, but he wishes it is anyway; it’s selfish of him, but he needs you to, just so he can condemn his... licentiousness a bit easier, with a little less guilt. the shame from being in your body and having these just as animalistic thoughts and urges hasn’t left him yet, but this old feeling wearing a new facade is more than enough to keep it hidden deep within his mind, leaving it to rot until the daylight comes — when mistakes become realizations.

mistakes xavier hopes he is allowed to make tonight. and realizations xavier hopes you’ll kneel into too.

“let’s go then.”

xavier can’t help but chuckle quietly at your endearing and hasty nods. your footsteps are the only thing echoing through the hallway this late. you have him following you, his small hand engulfed in your big one, as you pull and pull, almost afraid he might change his mind in a second. perhaps you have yet to become aware of the strength of his body, but xavier believes the reminders are not needed right now.

the skin on his wrist might already be blooming with red fingerprints by the time you realize and let go, and he would be lying if it didn’t make his head spin a little faster and his thighs clench. he really needs to be more gentle with you from now on, huh?

“uh—” you stop suddenly, making him bump his forehead against your back. “sorry!” a faint buzzing accompanies your apology.

“it’s okay.”

xavier instantly notices the red glowing light of your finger pad just past your waist. the sensor buzzes again, letting you both know xavier’s fingerprints are unfortunately not added to the system. he bites the inside of his cheek, another familiar feeling making a home in him once again.

why haven’t you added him yet?

“you should add mine too,” he mutters, pulling on your hand.

xavier feels almost, almost upset that you still haven’t entertained the quite intimate idea. the pout on his lips makes itself known even before he can twist it into something far more vexing. you should feel bad, you know? he will die if you won’t.

“all right, all right, can you just—”

your eyes point to the glowing button before flickering back to his totally cutesy pout. “we should probably get inside first.”

“hmm...” xavier feigns understanding as you step out of the way. he lifts one hand toward you, slightly wiggling his fingers. small, still, but... he is sure he can make good use of them. soon enough.

“which one?” his lips purse again.

you ignore him this time. “the thumb, please.”

he nods, trying to hold in his disbelief. your thumb fits perfectly inside the little gap, making him wonder if his could if he tried hard enough. he didn’t know the apartment building also provided custom locks; is this a sign for him to ditch the old-school locks and keys? the button stops glowing before flashing green as a ding fills the silence.

xavier would definitely add your fingerprints to his lock.

“there.” he twists the doorknob and motions toward the ajar door. his head drops slightly, and he thanks your haircut for hiding the sneaky smirk creeping on his lips.

“xavier?” you whisper his name.

why? why? how can his own voice make him hot in the head? are you doing this intentionally? he lifts, eyes ready to pull yours into alluring depths awaiting right behind your apartment’s door.

“c’mon in, your majesty.” he knocks at the door twice.

“wha—”

a flurry of hits instantly land on his shoulder in an attempt to distract him from the blush on your cheeks. he bites down on his lips, ignoring the muscles twitching with pain; your shyness only enticing him further.

“perhaps your majesty would prefer to be carried instead?”

“oh, shut up, xavier!”

another slap, right on his chest. it hurts more than he likes to admit. maybe he should let you know to take it easy while being in his body...

he smiles as you rush past him, finally happy to be home where no one can hurt you. “be careful.”

inside, the faint smell of your perfume greets him — the same one you must have been wearing before things happened. after the incident, and of course being nowhere near as logical or lucid, xavier didn’t quite get the chance to take a whiff. at other times, he would have sniffed you out like a dog when you’d come sauntering to the association, whether it be from his desk or just standing behind you in front of the vending machine.

don’t mind that he couldn’t before, because now, as you sit and bend in the entryway, xavier is finally getting his full fill. he is begging the scent to remain locked inside him forever. this soft musk, nectar of white roses blended with something raw and sweat — this scent that only belonged to you.

xavier inhales deeply. he wants it all. all of you.

in front of him, you take off his shoes in silence, and so does he: those nettlesome heeled boots that have given your poor, poor feet a lesson not to be forgotten. how can you hunt in them daily? they slide off the ankles smoothly, and he drops them onto the floor right beside his. your skin is pulsing; he can feel the swelling cushion his weight as he tries to get used to flat ground again. a weary, unrecognizable sound escapes him, causing you to hum in question.

“my feet — i mean your feet...” he points to the reddened limbs. “those heels are serious trouble.”

you blink and look down at his feet instead: no swelling or anything. “i usually just shower after work — the cold water helps a lot with the swelling!”

xavier stills, lust fogging his mind once more. he stutters. “t-that’s—”

shower? are you telling him to shower? in your body? really, he doesn’t mind, but won’t that make you... he can’t even look at you now, not when he’s feeling himself fucking leak at the suggestion of such a tantalizing experience.

is this how it feels for you?

a sniff pulls him gently back to reality. you look up at him, oblivious to the commotion happening inside him. “really, it would feel amazing afterward!”

are you being dense on purpose?

his eyes snap to yours. your head is tilted to the side, confusion lacing everything playful. you must be really, really tired, or were you?

xavier sighs. “(name)...”

this isn’t an invitation of some kind, right?

“are you forgetting... something?” he points to his body and then yours.

you smile sheepishly. “oh, right... maybe another time!”

another time...?

your hums don’t answer anything. you turn around, already heading deeper inside. one more sneaky comment and he’s going to do things he would probably regret.

you skip your shower, and so does he. dinner was takeout: ready-to-eat hotpot kits (it’s a staple for him at this point, and xavier’s not ashamed in the slightest) and some ice cream because, apparently, you were going to make his body crave it like no other.

“it doesn’t work like that—”

the ice cream is freezing as it licks up his teeth and the insides of his cheeks. he shouldn’t have bitten down...

“why not?” you ask before sneaking a lick of his cone, making him pretend to frown.

“i mean, the fact you are in my body is proof enough. don’t ya think?” you continue, mirth dripping from each word.

xavier wishes he was, actually.

a boop on your nose pushes you away from his melting ice cream and him. “e-eat before it makes a mess.”

(please don’t notice the clench of his thighs.)

of course, you don’t react to his teasing or comprehend the implications of your offhand words. you have his eyes closed as you change his clothes for him, expecting the same from him; he hopes you didn’t hear the hitches in his breath or his fast pulse. after dinner, when the promise of sleep silently awaits in one corner, you only give him two choices: the bed or the couch. xavier would have preferred to sleep beside you, but he’d rather you have a good night’s sleep because he knows you need it.

even if it meant no sleep for him.

as xavier said before: it is going to be a long night.

at eleven ten, he coaxed you into mindless chatter that had no business lasting for twenty minutes — petty drama peddling in the association, or jeremiah’s new inventions that were already causing headaches — but it did for him. just to not let you go, just so he could hold onto you a little longer. at eleven thirty-two, you yelled a good night, xavier, and the door of your bedroom clicked shut, officially separating you from him for hours to come — daunting times where he desperately needs you to be there with him.

the clock is daring to cross one now, and sleep has continued to evade him. outside, barks of a dog — no doubt the same one the whole apartment building takes turns caring for — penetrate the glass of your windows, shooing away what little repose he was beginning to lure in.

your couch barely compares to the one in his own apartment. no, he’s not blaming your design choices, but the cushions are an absolute pathetic excuse, and xavier wants to laugh at them hard. no way he’s going to get even a blink of sleep. this is all part of your plan, isn’t it? to have him come knocking at your door like a dog, soaked after the rain. xavier clenches his thighs again, desperately trying to stop the wetness leaking out. the sensation makes him whine; he can’t just plunge his fingers in there now, can he?

please forgive me.

xavier’s gone. gone, gone.

exhaling deeply, he lifts your night shirt and cups your chest in both hands. god, you are so soft, feeling like silk against silk. his fingers play around with the puckered buds, all the while glancing at the corner of the hallway in case you decide to sneak up on him. he slowly glides one hand down the stomach, lingering on the abdomen, feeling and caressing the skin he’s longed to touch for centuries. and he can’t help the moan.

hearing your voice coming out of him turns him on. more and more. the shorts are pushed to the knees quickly, and he doesn’t waste time sliding one hand into your panties. the only remaining light that graces his vision is the lamp you left on out of courtesy. the golden light laps at the expanse of your thighs, finally letting him see your body in clarity.

fuck, xavier breathes out, immediately letting his fingers trace around the pulsing opening. he does exactly what he has always wanted to do to you. beginning with a slow swirl around the clit, not quite touching but enough for him to feel a phantom of it hypnotize him. with his breath lagging, he collects the slickness pooling out of your pussy, making sure to coat his middle finger well, and gently nudges it past the fluttering muscles.

fuck it.

instantly, he feels your walls clamp down on the intrusion. the insane heat of them makes his mouth fall open, voice strangling in a knot somewhere deep in your throat. another finger pokes at the entrance, eager to join in the fun, and your walls have no choice but to accommodate more and more. his movements are sloppy — as to be expected. xavier is none other than a novice at this very moment, after all.

sweat beads on his forehead, carrying with it a salty taste as it drips into his agape mouth. the pace he picks is relentless. he should be more careful, more gentle, as he loves your body, but he can’t. lust is the only drive in him right now; he just can’t. he’s already becoming adept at pulling your muscles like they were his, and he just can’t contain the urge to experiment and experiment. a flick on your clit, or a pinch that makes his back arch, or even a slow caress on your other puckered hole when the pleasure drove him mad enough.

xavier loves you, he loves your body so much. and he always will.

the sweet, sweet release is more of a tease than the fingers scissoring deep in your pussy; it doesn’t come no matter how much he works his hand. frustration is the last thing xavier wanted to feel right now. alas, your fingers are nowhere near as long as his. if it were his own, he would have easily reached far deeper than what yours are allowing him right now. disgust rises in him, but it’s too late. it’s almost humiliating to admit that he’s downright begging to feel his own length slide right in, feel it harden and pump through the pliant muscles of your walls.

xavier mewls. the filthy thoughts of being fucked by himself cloud his mind, bringing on a feeling estranged yet slightly familiar — one welcomed nevertheless, one he wanted regardless.

i am sorry, (name).

another groan cuts through the tranquility of your living room, and the pressure simmering throughout today finally erupts. the barking dies out in the ringing in his ears, and the orgasm wrecks him, your body, in ways he didn’t know were possible. those little beats of heat now felt like molten fire as they spread from his core, circulating through his body. like a disassembled doll, xavier remains flat on the couch, unmoving except for the erratic rise and fall of his chest. the dull pleasure slowly dissipates in his nerves, only to leave behind the same need that needed to sink its teeth a bit deeper.

he knows this won’t be enough to sate him, at all.

so xavier stands up, his head spinning for a little upon his hurried movements. it’s not long before he’s heading to your bedroom, footsteps creaking against the wooden floor.

should he knock?

a gulp as his hand lifts to rest on the wood, and he waits. a second, then ten more — for something to startle him from behind. you don’t open it for him, and he doesn’t know why he expected you to. his hand finally grabs the knob, and he twists it open.

xavier quietly enters your bedroom without the urgency that brought him to your very door in the first place, and perhaps he knows the reason why. he waddles closer to your bed, the lack of light barely a hindrance for him. seeing you up close makes the gates open again, but now the flow of fervor is tame, because it’s you. he can’t ever bear to be rough with you.

he slips in right beside you, the coldness of the blankets a pleasant surprise for his feverish body. you don’t move an inch as you lie on your side, little snores escaping your lips. the timid moonlight doesn’t do justice to the peace reflected on your face — something he doesn’t want to snatch away from you. he wants you so badly; at the same time, he wants you to want him too.

you will accept him, won’t you, even if it’s him wearing your own skin?

xavier tucks a lone strand behind your ear. his hand cups your cheek, letting his heat permeate the cold skin. his body has always run a bit colder, after all. it would crush him to see his own body hurt you. a pat is all he tests for now as he awaits your impending reaction. when you don’t return to the waking world, xavier tries something bolder. his face lines up to yours, and he presses his lips against yours, eyes squeezing shut.

you see him like a friend, but to him, you’ve always been his everything, forever: from the end of a beginning to the beginning of an end. xavier doesn’t want to label your relationship as mere coworkers or friends or... lovers. it’s just not fair to the two of you. he’s crossing a line here, he knows, but can you even blame him? if only you were aware of everything: the past, his and yours. then you would have understood, right?

like clockwork, you begin to stir awake. it’s the suck of a breath first, one he doesn’t let you claim so easily. his lips move harder against yours when a muffled noise escapes you. when he finally feels you push on his shoulders, he pulls away, already missing you.

“what—” you heave, trying to replace the air he stole from you. “xavier… what are you doing here?”

what does he even say to you?

“did you just...” you gasp. he sees your hand reach up for your lips, feeling the skin he’s been messing with: red and bitten raw. the extra pillow beneath him soaks up any sweat dribbling down his face. the air has changed, hotter; he can feel it melt on him — like salty vapors of a restless sea.

“you should know this by now.” he whispers, hoping you’d hear him.

you blink. “what do you mean?”

“that i am insatiable — that i have been for so long now.”

he moves closer, not paying attention to another gasp of yours. his hand grabs yours immediately and pushes it into your panties. you can feel it, right? the wetness, the mess his fingers had just made moments ago. he stares at your agape mouth, not knowing what you are feeling. your hand doesn’t move, and neither do you, only rendering him breathless.

you don’t want him…?

“please,” he pleads, eyes looking up at you. “i want this. i want you badly.”

you gulp, silver eyelashes fluttering. “xavi—”

“please.”

xavier sits up, completely imprudent by now. he climbs on top of your torso, making sure to press his core right where you should be aching for him. your want doesn’t wish to reveal itself to him right now, but it’s okay. another grind comes, from down to up. another moan sounds from your mouth, which tells him he’s succeeding, slowly but surely. it’s small, subtle, but the bulge only makes him proud for a vile reason; you react well, don’t you? his hips move with a mind of their own, drawing more sounds from you.

“you feel me?” xavier pants from above.

you are beginning to tremble beneath him now, your hand palming his sides. reluctance pulls you by the joints, and your lips break apart, a shudder making you still before you use his own strength to stop him.

“we can’t—”

one more grind just to drive his motives home — one painfully slow for the both of you. he feels your bulge now prod at his moist center, begging for reprieve.

“x-xavier, we can’t do this right now…” you blink up at him.

he tilts his head to the side, letting a smile etch onto his face — one that was definitely more wicked than it looked. “why not?”

“i—”

“you say no…” his one palm slithers in between your bodies, and he presses hard on the pulsing bulge, in essence, trampling over your excuses.

“what’s this, then?”

xavier muffles whatever you were going to say next. his lips are back on yours, licking, sucking, not leaving any skin untouched. you don’t try to push him off this time, in fact quite the opposite. he thinks he might be dreaming as you grind back against him, reciprocating in the way he was wishing you would.

xavier parts from you, and noses against your jaw. “you’ve been wanting this too, haven’t you?”

“xav—”

his hand moves fast to cup your chin. “no, tell me exactly what it is.”

he sees your eyes close, teeth nibbling your lips. “and if i say yes...”

then they open once more with a blue so fervent it nearly makes him collapse.

“what would that make me?”

sudden affection floods him. he chuckles and gives your cheek a gentle pat. “what do you think?”

a pause hits you before: “just like... you?”

that’s the crux of it all, isn’t it?

“just… like.. me.”

another pat lands as your limbs relax beneath him. he asks, “well, do you… want to?”

your eyes widen, and you bite your lips again. he patiently waits even though the bulge pressing against him is yelling at him to do something, quick. because your word is all that matters. xavier hopes you know he would get off you this very moment if you so desired.

but, of course, you don’t.

“i want to.”

you want him too.

xavier smiles, a genuine one for this hectic night. “i know.”

soon, he’s pawing at the waistband of the sweatpants he guided your legs through hours ago. you don’t hesitate this time as he pulls them off you in one single go. it’s you who paws at his boxers next, muttering something that sounds awfully close to a “please.” the word is drawn out in his husky voice, as if you’d finally learned to manipulate his vocal cords for your salacious gains. he does the same with the boxers, throwing them across the room to a forgotten corner before returning above you.

instinct controls him, and he quickly wraps his hand around the hard erection. xavier drinks in your expression, his ministrations making you all the more pliant beneath him — just as he wanted. “how does this feel?”

“i can’t describe—oh!” a moan is ripped out of you when he squeezes slightly.

“strange? weird?”

his eyes meet yours, and you manage a nod, silver hair matted from sweat.

“but familiar…” a smile breaks out on your face.

“you know,” he lets go of the pulsing length, and straddles your lap once more. “i felt the same too.”

“when?”

“when i fucked myself using your fingers.”

“what?!” the shock on your face makes him snort. “is that why you were fucking leaking?!”

his tight grip is back on you, and he’s already guiding the hardness to where he drips.

“it wasn’t enough. i wanted my own fucking dick — so bad.”

xavier lifts, making sure not to break eye contact. “wanted to fuck myself stupid on you.”

a laugh blooms out of you. “you are nasty.”

“never denied that…” xavier bends forward, and pecks your lips.

“so… you’ll fuck me, right?”

you pull him down fast.

with his breath caught, his eyes are forced shut, drowning out every other sense with only you. your fingers are no match for the wholeness he feels. he knew it already, you know? his dick was always going to be the one to fit so perfectly inside of you, nestled in your welcoming warmth, filling every nook; for him and only him.

“xavier—!” he feels you claw at his thighs.

“i’ll move, d-don’t worry.”

and he does, slowly, up and down, up, down, testing the waters, feeling every sensation, everything he’s been bombarded with: your nails imprinting on his thighs, his hot length molding something deep inside you.

“you like it?”

he’s bouncing now, and he has no idea why he knows how to. the slickness from your mixed fluids is dripping out around the length, as it pools on your lap. the splosh, splosh deafening in the silence you both didn’t occupy. you remove your hands from his waist and cover your eyes, making him laugh sluggishly. his hands stretch across your chest, tweaking with your little, pink nipples. your response is instantaneous in the form of a loud shriek, sharp enough to cut through the tension.

“w-why is your body—ahh! so sensitive?!” you moan out.

“don’t blame m-me, baby…”

xavier leans forward, and he’s kissing you again, almost trying to eat you through your mouth. your tongue barely holds against him as he rubs his against yours, hard and filthy, letting saliva leak from the sides of your connected lips.

the tightness returns to your limbs, however, this time because of an entirely different reason. he can feel it too, a feeling he knows too well: this blazing knot, binding deep inside his abdomen. he’s close, and so are you. he can’t tell where you begin and he ends, and truthfully, xavier doesn’t care. he’d weld himself against you if he could. he’s too lost deep in the pleasure by now, that he’s barely paying attention to how his moans begin to deepen with each strangled whine. the gravity seems to have flipped completely, but xavier blames it on the dick drilling through him.

except, it’s not anymore.

one moment he’s hearing you blabber about how tight he feels, and the very next, it’s him feeling that same tightness around him. huh…? he tries to stop his bouncing, only to find out he’s not the one doing that now. his eyes snap open, and he freezes. it’s you, and your face, and your body he sees above him; your thighs on the sides of his waist, your walls clenching around him instead of the other way around.

oh.

he pinches at your thigh. “(name).”

“no,” you whisper, your voice landing fresh. “i was so close!”

“(name)…” his hands come to grope your behind.

being back in his own body doesn’t elicit the surprise from him xavier was thinking it would. and for you, it doesn’t seem any different either — not surprised, only that you are mourning the release he was going to give you. what should he do now that he’s finally free from a fantasy, only to be trapped in a different one?

you pout, tightening around him again. “you are not going to leave me hanging, xavier.”

“of course… come here.” he smirks.

you lean toward him, immediately catching him in another kiss — a kiss that finally feels normal, like puzzle pieces back in their places. his one hand splays on your back, while the other slides down in between your body, finding that tiny bud that still seemed to pulse.

xavier parts from you, lips sloppy. “you are just as insatiable as me…”

“stop—” his fingers press on your clit, making you shut up.

xavier can’t stop himself now, can’t stop the lewd words falling out of his mouth, or his hips that rush to meet yours halfway.

“look at you, baby…”

“bent over me like this.”

“all spread open for me.”

“so obscene, aren’t you?”

his mouth traps yours in a push and pull again, distracting enough for you that you almost miss the way his dick starts moving inside you.

“oh, xavier… oh~”

“fuck—” xavier stills immediately, trying not to cum at the spot. his arms cage you in against him. “don’t, or i might just…”

“aw, you are so cute.”

a flick lands on your forehead, making you whine. he recollects himself and looks at you one last time, mirroring your amusement.

“i am gonna move, okay?”

a nod from you is all it takes for his hips to start moving again. xavier doesn’t find it hard to thrust into you from below, if anything else, he can feel so much farther in you this way. you begin to gush around him as he continues to piston into you, thrust after thrust, not letting his pace falter even once. he keeps you close to his chest, letting you hear his heartbeat that seems to race just like yours.

the clenches around him never stop for even a second, alongside your sucks and bites on his nipples. xavier knows you are beginning to feel good now.

“touch yourself for me?” he coaxes you gently by patting on your back, meanwhile continuing to fuck you steadily.

“eh—”

the request is sudden but sweet you accept it anyways. xavier stares at you through his sweat-slicked bangs, watching your mouth fall agape, as your fingers try to match with his consistent thrusts.

“f-feeling good?”

a moan escapes you just as he angles his dick slightly, hitting deeper. “so goooood!”

after a few more thrusts, comprehension seems to be lost on you. it’s all blabbering now for you: “xavier, please! xavier, i can’t!”

xavier, i can’t take this! then why are you moving despite telling him not to?

xavier, don’t stop! and yet you cry for his mercy when his ruthlessness overtakes.

you are not the only one out of your mind, however. an impatient roar rises in him also. he, too, seems to balance right on the very edge, and your own release would be all it would take for him to tip over it. you have him thrown so out of his orbit, that he won’t be able to return anytime soon. he suckles on your neck, leaving behind purple hues that will match the ones you gifted on his chest.

you have long since stopped playing with your clit; instead, hold onto him as you hide your face in his neck, licking up any sweat drops that pass by your blurred vision. your voice melts against his ears, your moans more like a melody, he wanted to relish and tune according to his desires.

“xavier—” your imminent warning finally sounds in the heat of it all. his arms tighten their hold on you, and he hears you yell: “i am gonna—!”

“gonna cum? on my cock? yeah, show me, baby.”

and you do, making him feel every single fucking squeeze — complete insanity. it’s damn near impossible to move inside the vise-like grip your pussy has on him. not long after, xavier feels himself spurting inside your hot walls as his thick cum drips out of your poor hole in globs.

xavier’s undone all the way to the soul.

a few minutes pass with you slumped atop him, both of you trying to catch your breaths.

“that was…”

no further words leave you, but xavier already knows everything. he smiles as you nuzzle against his cheek.

the need has finally sunk its teeth.

with this, xavier has taken absolutely everything from you in every sense.

(and he needs to keep that wanderer around for… ahem, research purposes.)

the bass from the main stage doesn’t just hit your ears; it vibrates straight through the thin soles of your sandals, humming up into your ribs. the beach concert was a damn neon-lit mass of salt-sticky skin, cheap coconut rum, and the suffocating heat of a thousand bodies swaying in tandem under the humid night sky. you’d left your friends screaming lyrics into the air, slipping away to the stall by the tree line to grab a refill.

now, cup held loosely in hand, you’re trying to wedge your way back through the shifting wall of people by the shoreline. it’s like trying to navigate a labyrinth of warm shoulders and fucking sweat. you take one blind step past a group of guys laughing too loud, and your foot catches on an uneven dip in the sand. 

you stumble forward, your shoulder colliding with something solid. 

fuck-

the iced drink sloshes violently over the rim of your plastic cup, splashing right across a broad, pale chest.

“shit, what the fuck—”

the curse is muttered under a breath that smells faintly of bitter lime and cheap gin, the tone completely flat, deadpan, and instantly recognizable. you blink, steadying yourself, and your eyes travel upward—past the dark cargo jorts low on his hips, past the lean, surprisingly cut lines of a pale torso, and over a thin silver chain resting against his collarbone.

it’s xavier.

his sunshades are perched crookedly in his messy ash-blonde hair, reflecting the distant strobe lights, and his diamond blue eyes are narrowed down at you in sheer annoyance. what is he doing here? he looks entirely out of place, a pale ghost haunting the edges of a party he clearly didn't want to invite himself to. a black stud glints in his earlobe as he tilts his head.

xavier stares at you. the slow blink of his eyelashes makes him look like a dazed bunny caught in a trap, his brain visibly short-circuiting as he processes the fact that someone from the university—let alone a blockmate he has actively avoided eye contact with for an entire semester—is standing right in his personal space.

he doesn't know what to do with his hands. he settles for crossing his arms over his wet chest, a pathetic attempt to shield himself from you, though it only serves to flex the skinny muscle of his biceps.

“you,” he mutters, his voice a low, monotonous drone that barely cuts through the thumping bass. he sounds like he's reading a script he hates. “you're from the block. the one who sits in the back.”

“and you're the one who sits in the front and doesn't talk at all,” you shoot back, not missing a beat. you let out a mocking little laugh, tilting your head up to match his gaze. you don't offer an apology for the sticky alcohol now dripping down his sternum. instead, you eye him up and down with an amused smile. “wow, look at you. i didn't know the block phantom actually possessed a pair of legs, let alone came outside. who dragged you out of your cave, xavier?”

his jaw tenses, a tiny twitch beneath his pale skin. 

he hates this. he hates the way you look at him like he’s a strange specimen under a microscope. he's used to being invisible, a background character who fades into the chalkboard grease of lecture halls. having your attention focused entirely on him feels like an interrogation.

“nobody,” xavier looks away, his eyes tracking the dark horizon of the ocean instead of facing you. “i came because i wanted to. not that it's any of your business. you should go back to your friends. you’re blocking the breeze.”

“ouch. friendly as always,“ you stepped closer just to watch the way his shoulders go rigid. you take a slow sip from your half-empty cup. “i'm surprised you even know what a breeze feels like, considering you usually look like you live in a basement. what's the matter? surprised to see me here?”

xavier's eyes flick back to you, cold and sardonic, though there's a faint tightness in his throat as he swallows. “i'm surprised you're capable of walking in a straight line. you spilled your drink on me.”

“consider it a baptism into the real world,” you say, laughing softly at his sour expression. “but seriously. you? at a beach concert? alone? it's a little pathetic, don't you think?”

xavier’s fingers dig slightly into the skin of his arms. he wants to tell you to go away. he wants to push past you and disappear into the dark, back to the quiet apartment where nobody looks at him, nobody mocks him, and nobody makes his chest feel this tight. but his feet feel heavy in the sand, anchored by the novelty of someone actually speaking to him.

“i'm fine by myself,” he says, his voice dropping into that familiar, stubborn tone. ”leave me alone.”

he turns on his heel, his large cargo jorts swishing heavily against his shins as he tries to melt back into the shadows. it’s his instinctual move—the clean break, the quiet exit. but you don’t let him. your sandals crunch in the sand right beside him, matching his stride.

“so are you seriously alone?” your voice drifts over his shoulder, light and entirely unbothered by his glaring aura of hostility. “like, actually by yourself? do you even have friends, xavier?”

the question bites, but he keeps his eyes fixed on the sand ahead. he does have friends. zayne and rafayel exist in his orbit, but the mere thought of zayne sitting on a humid beach with a plastic cup of cheap alcohol is absurd, and rafayel would have spent the entire night complaining about the quality of the crowd or the salt ruining his clothes. they aren't the type for this. they don't belong in a chaotic mass of college kids, and neither does he. but explaining that requires too many words, too much vulnerability.

“i have them,” he mutters, almost robotic as he steers away from the main shoreline. “they just have better things to do than stand around in the mud.”

you just chuckle, a mocking sound that follows him as he leads the way toward a darker, quieter corner of the resort. the heavy thump of the bass begins to muffle, filtered through a thick screen of tall bamboo stalks that sway lazily in the night breeze. it’s a designated smoking area, tucked away from the main pavilion. a couple of empty wooden crates serve as makeshift stools, and right now, the little pocket of shadows is completely deserted.

“then, why do you come here anyway? are you here to get some girls?” another snicker escapes past your lips. 

xavier then turns around to face you, his pale chest still gleaming slightly from the alcohol you spilled on him. his diamond blue eyes narrow under the faint amber glow of a single hanging bulb.

“[name], why are you suddenly all up in my ass?” he asks, the profanity sounding almost clinical coming from his voice. “don't you have a bunch of people waiting for you? you're... better off bothering some other guy who actually wants to, like, talk to you.“

he reaches into the deep pocket of his cargo jorts, his fingers pulling out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and a cheap plastic lighter. you watch him, momentarily stunned, as he slides a cigarette between his lips. the small flick of the flint illuminates the curves of his face—the boyish, bunny-like slope of his nose, the long eyelashes—contrasting sharply with the way he draws in the smoke. you hadn't expected this. the quiet blockmate who sits in the front row and never raises his voice actually smokes. he feels less like a flat, boring caricature of a loner and more like a puzzle with missing pieces.

you clear your throat, tilting your head as he exhales a thin, grey stream of smoke into the humid air, his eyes tracking the cloud as it disappears into the bamboo.

“well, my friends are occupied, and it's getting kind of boring over there,” you say, taking a step closer into his small sanctuary. a teasing smile plays on your lips. “honestly, it's way more entertaining to stand here and watch you squirm. so, what's the deal then? do you always hide out in corners like this? oh, i know why—it's a trick to attract girls, no? have you ever even experienced getting hit on by a girl before?” 

xavier takes another sharp drag, the tip of the cigarette glowing a fierce orange. he isn't used to this kind of attention—the piercing gaze of a girl who looks at him like he's something to be unraveled for amusement. his throat feels dry, because the truth is humiliating: almost no one approaches him, almost no one talks to him, and the few times women have looked his way, he had frozen up so badly they simply walked away, assuming he was stuck-up or broken.

“fuck off.” 

xavier shifts his weight, looking anywhere but at your face after pocketing his sunshades. “i'm not that type of guy. so, just leave me alone.”

he holds the cigarette awkwardly between his fingers, the ash growing dangerously long because he’s entirely too stiff to tap it off. his knuckles are white against the paper filter, and the silence between you only stretches, punctuated by the distant muffled thump of a techno remix playing by the shore.

“you're not that type of guy?” you repeat, stepping fully into the small bamboo enclosure. “what type? the type who knows how to hold a conversation, or the type who actually knows what to do when a girl hits on him?”

xavier squeezes his eyes shut for a fraction of a second, his chest rising and falling in a shallow breath. he takes another drag of his cigarette just to give his mouth something to do, but he inhales too fast.

“ghk—!”

he chokes.

it’s a pathetic, muffled cough into his fist, his whole pale torso spasming slightly as the smoke hits the back of his throat. it makes his blue eyes instantly water, looking away immediately and cursing silently in his mind. you didn't fail to catch the way his ears were burning a hot crimson.

“i'm fine,” he swallows hard, trying to force the monotonous drone back into his vocal cords, but it comes out sounding shaky. “the wind changed.”

“there is no wind, xavier,” you cross your arms, leaning your hip against one of the bamboo stalks. “jesus, you really don't know what to do with yourself, do you? are you seriously this clueless around women?”

“i-i'm not fucking clueless,” 

a normal experienced guy would laugh it off, make a smooth joke, or step into your space to push the tension back onto you. xavier does none of that. he just freezes, staring at his cargo jorts like the faded denim holds the answers to the universe. “i just... don't see the point. people are loud. you're loud.”

“i'm standing right here and talking in a normal voice,” you point out, taking a deliberate step closer. the scent of your fruity drink mixes with the bitter tobacco smoke hanging around him. “xavier, look at me when i'm talking to you.”

his eyes flick up, entirely against his will, caught off guard by the authority in your tone. up close, his features really do look like a startled bunny—wide, blinking eyes, a soft, trembling lower lip that he bites down on to keep from speaking. he looks so incredibly defenseless for someone who just told you to fuck off two minutes ago.

“...what do you want from me? i don't have anything to say to you. you're just... doing this on purpose.”

“doing what?”

“making fun of me,” xavier tightly grips his own upper arms again, his black piercings catching the light as he ducks his head. “you're just bored and you want to see how long it takes for me to look fucking stupid. go back to the beach.”

“tch—hahahaha!“

the sound of your laughter breaks the quiet of the bamboo enclosure, echoing over the distant thumping of the bass. you actually have to hold your stomach, tilting your head back because god, xavier is a riot. his reactions are better than any entertainment on the main stage! the panic vibrating off his frame makes a wicked little thrill dance in your chest. you want to toy with him until he completely snaps.

“okay, okay, look,” you say, catching your breath but keeping that mocking smile fixed on your lips. “i'll leave you alone. i’ll walk away right now, but... you have to answer just one more question for me.”

xavier watches you out of the corner of his wet, glass-pink eyes, his chest heaving with shallow breaths. he doesn't say anything, which you take as a green light.

“are you a virgin?” you ask, leaning in slightly, your voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. “because honestly, xavier? you look and act exactly like one. oh my god, are you really a virgin?”

you expect him to choke again. you expect him to stutter, to turn away, or to give you another defensive non-answer. but instead...

“yes,” xavier shoots back instantly, his voice cracking slightly on the vowel but sharp enough to slice through the humid air. he doesn't hesitate. he stares right into your eyes, his diamond blue gaze dark and completely cornered. “i am a fucking virgin. are you happy now? is that what you wanted to hear? so go away. go find some experienced guy who actually knows what the fuck he's doing and bother him instead.”

you blink. 

oh. oh. 

he really is... a total virgin, huh. 

you hadn't actually expected him to just lay his cards on the table like that, so exposed and utterly pathetic in his honesty. it leaves you momentarily speechless, looking at the sharp lines of his collarbone, the flushed skin of his bare chest.

but, a slow grin crawls back onto your face. you decide to press his buttons harder. “hmm. i don't believe you.”

xavier’s eyebrows knit together into a deep frown. “what the fuck do you mean you don't believe me?”

“i mean, i have to at least find out for myself, right?”

the air catches in xavier's throat, his eyes widening into pools of pure shock. he stutters, his lips moving a few times before any sound actually comes out.

“...what?” he croaks, his gaze darting frantically between your eyes and your mouth. “w-what did you just say? repeat that. i must've... i-i misheard you or something—”

“i said, i want to feel your shape, xavier.”

what the... fuck.

xavier suddenly chokes on his own saliva, a harsh, pathetic cough rattling through his chest. his hand trembles so violently that the half-smoked cigarette slips right from his fingers, tumbling into the dark sand below, its orange ember dying instantly. he doesn't even notice. his mind is entirely fried, the blue of his eyes completely wild as he stares down at you, his back pressed so hard into the bamboo that the stalks groan behind him.

“you're... you're fucking messing with me,” he breathes out, “you're really... you're really this committed to making a fool out of me, aren't you?”

you chuckle sweetly, “i'm not messing with you, xavier?”

your eyes slowly track downward, leaving his flushed face and trailing across the expanse of his shirtless torso. you're searching for something, and it doesn't take long to find it. there, nestled beneath the faded denim of his cargo jorts, is the unmistakable silhouette of a growing tent. it twitches slightly under your gaze, like a physical betrayal of how affected he actually is.

xavier notices where you're looking and his brain completely short-circuits. “i-i don't... i don't even know what you want from me, so—okay, what the fuck, what the fuck—”

his voice cuts off into an unintentional high-pitched whimper as your hand reaches out and presses directly against the apex of his tent.

“ah.. nh...”

it’s a pathetic, needy little sound that slips past his lips before he can stop it. your fingers curl slightly, deliberately playing with the stiff shape through the thick denim, testing his weight. xavier’s hand instantly fly to your shoulder, his long fingers gripping your skin tightly—not to push you away, but because his knees have suddenly gone completely weak. 

you stop the movement for a second, looking up at him with a look of mock concern. “oh my, xavier... you've been hard?”

he tries desperately to catch his breath, his eyes closing tight before snapping open again. and he presses himself even harder against the groaning bamboo wall behind him, trying to swallow the hot lump in his throat.

“i-i'm a guy, okay?” he stammers out, his monotonous drone completely shattered into a defensive whine. “and... and you... you know you're really pretty, and you're—you're fucking hot, so... of course my body is going to—to—”

“how long?” you cut him off, your voice dripping with teasing authority while your thumb slowly strokes the length of his twitching bulge. “how long have you been hard for me?”

his head snaps to the side, his chin tucking into his shoulder as he desperately avoids your eyes. the deep, burning crimson has spread all the way down his neck, coloring his pale chest in splotchy, beautiful patches of sheer embarrassment. he looks so small, so incredibly tense and cute as he writhes weakly under your palm.

“s-since... fuck,” he stutters, a small, frustrated sob caught in the back of his throat as your fingers twitch against him. his eyelashes flutter rapidly, wet with panicked tears. “since like... since you started talking to me, okay? since you—i couldn't—i couldn't help it. please stop... no, don't stop, just—ah...”

the weight of him expands under your palm, hot and straining fiercely against the thick denim of his cargo jorts. you let out a soft exaggerated gasp, pulling your lips into a mockingly surprised pucker.

“oh, wow,” you murmur, your fingers spreading out to measure him through the fabric. “so you're actually pretty big, huh? look at you, xavier.”

the praise makes xavier’s head roll back against the bamboo stalk, his eyes half-lidded and glazed over with a heavy daze. the fierce crimson on his cheeks makes the blue of his eyes look blindingly bright, almost silver under the amber bulb. he looks down at you through his long lashes, lips parting as he draws in a shaky breath.

“y-you... you really think so?” 

”i do,” you coo, giving him a gentle, firm squeeze that makes his hips involuntarily twitch forward into your touch. “does anybody else know how big you actually are, xavier? have you shown anyone?”

xavier frantically shakes his head no, the messy ash-blonde strands falling into his eyes. “n-no... nobody,” he stammers, “nobody else has ever... ever touched me like this. i told you, i'm—i'm a virgin.”

”poor thing,” you slowly slide your hand up and down his length, snickering under your breath.

and the moment the words poor thing leave your lips, the bulge underneath your hand twitches violently, a thick pulse that you feel right against your palm. xavier lets out a ragged hitch of his breath, his eyes snapping wide open as a jolt of pleasure shoots straight to his groin. he looks at you like a starved creature, his bottom lip trembling as he swallows hard, trying to force his tangled tongue to work.

“s-say... say that again,” he pleads, his voice cracking. his grip on your shoulder tightens, pulling you a fraction of an inch closer to his shirtless chest.

“say what?” 

“th-that... what you just—just called me,” he stutters harder, his pale torso completely tense, a thin sheen of sweat making his collarbone glisten under the light. “c-call me... call me a poor thing again. please. it—it felt...”

he can't even finish the sentence, but you strangely find yourself obeying him anyway. there's something entirely intoxicating about seeing the unapproachable, sardonic block loner reduced to a shivering pathetic mess right in front of you just from a few words.

“poor thing,” you whisper sweetly, leaning in until your breath brushes against his burning ear. “such a poor, pathetic little bunny. you're so sensitive, xavier. look how worked up you are just from me touching your pants.”

”oh, f-fuck... ah...” his head slowly shakes from side to side against the bamboo wall, his entire body trembling as you continue to rhythmically palm him through the cargo jorts. 

“you like being called a poor thing?” you whisper, pressing your body against his trembling frame to pin him thoroughly. “do you want to be called something else, hm? perhaps a... good boy?”

“y-yes... ah! please—” his fingers dig into the meat of your shoulders, desperate for anchor, his knuckles turning stark white. “call me—call me that... please, say it... just say it, i—i want to hear it, please...”

“no.”

the denial breaks him. and for all that he is, he fucking lets out a pathetic sob, his head thrashing from side to side against the bamboo wall. he becomes a completely unhinged, moaning, begging mess right beneath you—just a pathetic starved virgin writhing under your touch.

“please... please,” he wails softly, a breathless moan tearing from his throat as his lower lip trembles violently. “don't be mean... don't be mean to me, i'll—i'll do whatever you want... just call me it... please, tell me i'm—tell me i'm a good boy...”

seeing him reduced to such a shivering, responsive wreck is too sweet to resist. you let your hand resume its punishing pace, and lean right into his burning ear. “such a good boy, xavier. look how well you take it for me. such a sweet, good boy. like that?”

“ngh—!!”

xavier goes completely rigid.

his eyes roll back into his head, his eyelids fluttering as his entire torso spasms violently. a loud, choked-out moan tears from his chest, echoing against the bamboo as he begins to fucking cum right through the thick fabric of his cargo jorts.

“fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck fumck—”

his hips slam into your hand over and over in helpless, uncoordinated jerks. he spasms like a dying bunny, helpless to stop the overwhelming waves of friction. and because he’s a little virgin, because he has held everything in for so long, the release is incredibly violent and lasts a bit too long, his body continuously tightening and pulsing against your palm while he stutters and moans incoherently into the dark air.

“shit, xavier, it's not stopping yet?”

“f-fuck... ah, ah... n-no, it's—it's too much... hngh... please...” 

slowly, the violent tremors begin to subside, leaving him slumped weakly against the bamboo, his legs visibly shaking as if they can barely support his weight. oh god, he's so fucking embarrassed.

you slowly draw your hand back, tilting your head as you inspect your palm. the front of his cargo jorts is completely ruined, a dark and sticky-wet stain soaking through the stiff denim.

xavier’s hand leave your shoulder, his fingers trembling so violently he can barely coordinate them as he slides a palm up his face, pushing his messy ash-blonde hair back from his forehead. he presses his hand over his eyes, his breathing still coming in ragged gaps that rattle his throat.

“oh fuck,” he breathes into his skin, the word muffled, trembling, and saturated with a wave of humiliation. “fuck... i didn't... i'm sorry.”

he drops his hand from his face, his diamond blue eyes looking completely wide and glossy with a pinkish rim of pure embarrassment. he looks away from you, staring desperately at the dark sand beneath his feet.

“i didn't mean to... to do that,” he mutters, though it's entirely thin and cracked at the edges. “i got... carried away. i told you it was my... my first time doing anything like this. i didn't know it would... fuck. i'm sorry for cumming too quick.”

“you really are funny,” you let out a sweet chuckle, entirely unbothered by his panic as you step back a fraction of an inch, your eyes trailing over his shivering frame. you turn around lazily, stepping toward one of the high, makeshift wooden crates tucked against the bamboo wall. with an easy grace, you hop up, sitting against the rough edge of the wood.

“well, since you ruined the mood by finishing so fast, you're going to have to make up for it.”

xavier blinks, his long eyelashes fluttering rapidly as his brain stalls out yet again. he looks at you, eyebrows knitting together into a vulnerable frown that makes him look like a lost child. “make... make up for it? what do you mean?”

“i mean exactly what i said,” you murmur, leaning back slightly against the bamboo behind you, parting your knees just enough to send a message. “it's my turn now. you need to give me something.”

xavier’s mouth parts, a breathless gasp escaping his lips. he stands looking at you like you’ve just spoken a language he has never heard before. “i... i don't know what you want. i don't have anything to give you.”

“use your hands, xavier,” you point a finger down at yourself. “put your fingers in me.”

“w-what?” he stammers, his voice cracking loudly as the splotchy red flush on his chest flares up with renewed heat. “you... want me to do what? i can't—i don't know how to do something like that. i've never—i've never touched a girl before. what if i mess it up? what if i hurt you?”

“shush,” you pat the edge of the wooden crate, tilting your chin down. “come here, don't make me repeat myself.”

he looks at you through those long eyelashes, his body frozen in place for three agonizing seconds before the invisible leash pulls him forward. his large cargo jorts swish heavily against his knees as he drags his feet through the dark sand, moving with the reluctant obedience of a stray dog that knows it's about to get scolded. he stops right between your thighs, his torso glistening with a fresh sheen of anxious sweat under the low amber light.

“i'll guide you,” you say softly, your voice dipping into that patronizing tone that treats him like the complete novice he is.

without breaking eye contact, your fingers reach down to the fly of your shorts. the metallic click of the button snapping open sounds loud in the small bamboo clearing, followed by the slow scratch of the zipper sliding down.

zzzzzip.

xavier’s gaze drops instantly, drawn down by the gravity of his own terror, and then he stares at the soft curve of your exposed lower belly. he looks so incredibly flustered, his throat working in a visible gulp. he realizes, with a sudden wave of panic, that he is about to see a girl's pussy in real life for the first time in his years of pathetic existence. not on a screen, not in a textbook, but right here, breathing and warm, under a resort light.

“hey, i told you,” he stammers out, his voice a shaky, thin thread that lacks even a fraction of his earlier sardonic bite. “i'm... i'm not going to be good at this. you're going to... you're going to hate it. don't expect anything from me.”

you don't even bother to acknowledge his miserable little disclaimer. instead, you lean forward slightly, your fingers wrapping around his trembling wrists, forcing his cold hands down until they rest against the waistband of your unbuttoned denim.

“take them off. panties, too. do it together.”

xavier lets out a faint gasp, a breathless “fuck...” slipping past his lips before he can choke it back. he looks at your hands on his wrists like you're forcing him into a crime, but his fingers instinctively curl into the fabric anyway. he’s so utterly malleable under your authority it’s almost laughable.

with hands that shake so violently they repeatedly snag against the rough denim, he begins to push the material down your hips. the fabric bunches around your upper thighs, and he moves with an agonizing slowness, as if he's terrified that any sudden movement will cause you to vanish or, worse, laugh at him again. his eyes trace the expanse of your thighs as they are slowly unveiled.

but as the dark cotton of your underwear follows the denim down to your knees, xavier’s head abruptly jerks upward. his eyes snap to your face, wide and frantic, deliberately forcing his gaze to stay glued to your eyes. he absolutely refuses to look directly there yet.

slowly, you part your thighs, the smooth skin of your legs brushing against the coarse fabric of his long jorts as you widen the space between you. “look at it, xavier,” you murmur, “look at it, and put a finger inside.”

xavier squeezes his eyes shut, his throat moving in a heavy, desperate gulp. for a second, he just stands there in the dark, his hands twitching helplessly in the air as if he’s praying for the bamboo stalks to swallow him whole. and when his eyelids finally flutter open, his gaze drops down. 

he looks, staring directly into the slick, parted heat of your pussy. a wave of heat surges up his cheeks, turning his ears a bright crimson under the bulb. he looks less like a man and more like a completely overwhelmed creature that has just stumbled upon something sacred and terrifying. his lips part, a small, shaky exhale slipping past his teeth.

“it's... it's so pretty,” he whispers under his breath, the praise slipping out unfiltered, raw and thoroughly pathetic in its utter lack of cool. it’s the kind of line only an absolute virgin would utter while staring between a girl's legs.

you reach down to wrap your fingers around his trembling wrist once more. “now don't just stare at it. put a finger in.”

you guide his hand forward, his long index finger pressing hesitantly against the wet entrance of your womanhood. xavier flinches slightly at the sudden contact, his other hand flying out in a blind, clumsy reflex to grip your knee. 

with a slow nudge of your hand, his finger slides past your lower lips, sinking into the tight, tight heat of your walls.

fuck. fuck, fuck.

the moment the slick warmth swallows his finger to the knuckle, xavier’s eyes widens, a strangled gasp tearing from his throat. under the damp denim of his cargo jorts, the ruined bulge of his erection twitches shamelessly, growing harder and tighter against his stomach even though he literally just came through his clothes minutes ago. 

“is this right?” his finger is stiff, twitching awkwardly inside you without any real rhythm because he has absolutely no clue what he’s doing. “am i doing it okay? tell me if it hurts, or if it's–shit you're so fucking warm.”

“you're just holding it there, xavier. that's not fingering,” you mock gently, your thumb pressing down on the back of his wrist to force an upward hooking motion. “curve your finger. like this. curl it up inside me.”

“l-like this?” he croaks, his pupils completely dilated as he tries to mimic the movement. his hand is so tense the tendons are standing out along his forearm, his knuckles white where he’s gripping your knee. he hooks his finger clumsily, catching against your sensitive walls, and the sudden wet squelch of his own awkward movements makes his face burn twice as hot. “like that? are you—are you liking it?”

“i'd like it a lot more if you weren't moving like a broken thing. do it faster, and deeper. unless this is really the absolute best those clumsy fingers of yours can manage?”

“fuck... shut up,” 

before you can even laugh at his little display of temper, his free hand—the one anchoring him to your knee—moves with a sudden bruising grip. his long fingers dig firmly into the soft flesh of your thigh, and with a sharp, heavy heave of his arm, xavier lifts your leg high. he hoists it all the way up onto his shoulder, forcing your thighs to splay open in a completely exposed angle.

the suddenness of the movement makes your breath hitch, your fingers instantly digging into the rough wood of the crate to keep your balance as the cool night air hits the absolute dampest, most intimate part of you. from this point, you are entirely laid bare under the amber bulb, a prize splayed out for the most pathetic pervert on campus to see.

xavier doesn't look away. now that his insecure temper has been piqued, his eyes are fixed entirely on your pussy. he leans over you, his chest casting a long shadow across your lap, the silver chain around his neck swinging like a pendulum as he repositions his hand.

“you want it faster?” he mutters, his breath hot and uneven against your neck. “fine.”

he drives his index finger back into you, burying it all the way to the base of his knuckle. a loud, squelching wet sound echoes clearly over the rustling bamboo stalks as his hand begins to piston into your heat. it’s still incredibly clumsy—his rhythm is erratic, a frantic, uncoordinated jerking motion that has absolutely no baseline experience behind it—but the force of his desperation makes up for what he lacks in technique. he's pushing into you with everything he has, his knuckle bumping repeatedly against your sensitive outer lips.

“wow,” you gasp out, a genuine shudder ripping through your frame as the friction starts to build. “look at you go. you're actually starting to get a hang of it, bunny.”

jesus, you are so goddamn wet. the sound of his own clumsy finger sloshing around inside you is so loud, so incredibly lewd, that the heavy tent underneath his cargo jorts throbs with a renewed tightness. he is so hard it physically hurts, a thick drop of pre-cum soaking further into the stained denim as he pins you down further.

the heat between your thighs is beginning to build into something thick and undeniable, like a buzzing current of pleasure that ripples right up your spine every time xavier’s clumsy finger drives home. it’s getting incredibly hard to maintain that mocking little smirk you’ve been wearing like armor. your teeth dig sharply into your bottom lip, trying to anchor the ragged gasps threatening to slip past your throat. you absolutely cannot let this isolated, virgin blockmate see that his zero-experience is actually working on you. it would be completely humiliating to lose your grip on the reins now.

you need to remind him exactly who is running this little thing.

“two,” you breathe out, your voice a little tighter, a little more strained than you intended. “put two fingers in, xavier. one isn't doing anything.”

xavier's hand freezes dead inside you, his eyes widening into flustered circles as he looks up from your wet folds.

“two?” he looks at his own hand, then back up at your parted thighs. “but... you're already so tight. i don't think they'll fit. what if i stretch you too much? what if it—”

“shut up and just do it.”

he gulps, the silver necklace clicking against his collarbone as he slowly, awkwardly wedges his middle finger right alongside his index. the sudden thick expansion against your walls makes your hips twitch involuntarily on the wooden crate. xavier doesn't even wait for you to lecture him this time; driven by a sudden, greedy curiosity, he begins to piston his hand back into your heat.

squelch.

“~ah!”

a loud genuine moan slips right past your teeth, echoing sharply against the rustling stalks above.

instead of pulling back, xavier plunges his hand deeper, driving those two fingers all the way to the hilt, his thumb bumping hard against your clit with a clumsy pressure that makes your toes curl into the air. 

“more,” you whimpered, the teasing girl completely vanishing, replaced by a needy shivering mess that’s entirely at the mercy of a boy who didn't even know what a pussy looked like twenty minutes ago. “put... put three, xavier. put three in.”

“th-three?” he gasps out, his knuckles slick with your own arousal as he hovers at the entrance. “are you sure? that's—that's too much, you're already so wet and, and, i don't—”

losing the last shred of your patience, you reach down and blindly grab his wrist to yank him forward.

with a low grunt that sounds entirely unlike him, he forces his ring finger right into the tight seam of your pussy. “shit—what the fuck...”

the brutal stretch of three fingers burying themselves inside you all at once catches you completely off guard. you let out a helpless whimper, your back arching off the wooden crate as your fingers claw desperately into the rough grain of the seat. 

the sloshing sound inside you is getting even more out of hand, a wet rhythmic squelch that is echoeing obscenely. and he’s doing it. the guy who looks like he’d apologize to a door if he bumped into it, is currently burying three thick fingers into your heat. 

but for someone who is supposedly delivering the pleasure here, he is making an absolute fool of himself. xavier is whining. actually whining. every time he shoves his hand forward, a strained noise hitches in the back of his throat, his soft boyish features contorting into a pained, pathetic scowl as if he’s the one being subjected to some kind of beautiful torture. his forehead is pressed nearly against your hoisted knee, his chest heaving so hard the silver chain is practically rattling against his collarbone.

you let out a breathless chuckle, fingers digging into his sweat-slicked shoulder just to feel the way his skinny muscles twitch under your touch. look at him. he looks like a pathetic, cornered bunny who is entirely too greedy for his own good.

“what's the matter, xavi? do you want to say something to me?”

in response to your mocking, xavier lets out a frustrated grunt. he drives his three fingers brutally deep, all the way to the hilt until his damp knuckles press hard against your entrance, and curls them upward with a sudden hook.

”~ah! shit!”

you squirm violently on the wooden crate, your toes clawing into the dark air while your hips involuntarily rise to meet his hand. 

xavier pants heavily, his blue eyes completely glazed over and dark with a drunken daze. he looks down at where his hand is buried inside you, his lips trembling as he tries to swallow the thick knot of embarrassment in his throat. “i-i don't... i'm unsure if i can say it,” he stammers out, his voice a shaky cracked whisper. “am i allowed to say it?”

you can barely even find your voice to answer him, your chest heaving as you give a wordless impatient nod. your brain is entirely too focused on the fact that his long fingers are moving way too loudly inside you.

then, without an ounce of warning, xavier leans in close, his hot breath fanning over the sensitive skin of the pulse in your neck. the movement forces you to stretch your leg wider, higher.

“...can i eat you out?”

the whisper is so incredibly soft, so completely unpolished, that it catches you entirely off guard. your eyes widen, your heart doing a sudden flip in your chest. the absolute audacity of this virgin. he’s still actively pistoning his fingers inside you, making you stretch and leak all over his knuckles, and he has the nerve to ask that?

“say it fucking properly.” you gasp out, trying desperately to claw back your sense of control because you refuse to let him see how much the question actually rattled you. “say it like an actual guy, you dork.”

xavier blinks, trying his absolute best to shake off the thick, pleasure-drunk fog clouding his brain. he doesn't pull his hand out; instead, he uses his grip on your knee to hoist himself up, leaning over your body more until his flushed, beautiful face is bare inches from yours. his messy ash-blonde hair brushes against your forehead, his dilated blue pupils locked onto your lips.

“can i eat your pussy?”

fuck.

he says it with the most ridiculous combination of innocence and desperation. it’s a line that should sound smooth, but coming from his trembling splotchy-red lips, it just sounds like a starved creature begging for a scrap of food. and the worst part? your body absolutely eats it up.

before you can even think of a mocking comeback, a thick hot gush of white liquid sloshes out from deep inside you, sliding slowly down his fingers and over your exposed thighs. your eyes roll completely inward, a loud, shattered moan tearing from your throat as your back arches entirely off the wooden crate. you shake helplessly under his touch, your walls clamping down around his three fingers in a pulsating rhythm as you come.

fuck, how did you come this fast? he’s just a fucking loser virgin. a loner who doesn't talk to anyone. how the hell did he just reduce you to a shivering, dripping wreck with nothing but a few clumsy fingers and a pathetic question?

xavier completely cuts off your trail of thought. he slowly pulls his three fingers straight out of your heat. the sudden emptiness makes you whimper, but the movement allows a fresh wave of your sticky, white cum to spill out, dripping lazily down the skin of your seat.

his fingers are dripping with your wetness, his breath coming in short, pathetic puffs as he stares down at the mess he just made. he looks like an absolute freak, an innocent bunny who just realized he has a taste for blood, unable to believe his own eyes.

but the next words that slip past his lips completely seal his fate as a total pervert.

“guess i'll take this as a chance to lick you clean,” he looks up at you through his long eyelashes, his lower lip quivering with that same pathetic timidity. “going to eat you out now. okay?”

you’re slumped against the wooden crate, chest heaving and trying to pull oxygen into lungs that feel entirely too tight. your brain is still a scrambled mess of white noise from the climax you just handed over to a fucking virgin.

and speaking of the devil—or, well, the pathetic bunny in jorts—he’s already moving.

xavier drops heavily onto his knees, the dark sand crunching under his shins. his torso leans forward, long fingers spreading out to grip the flesh of your thighs with a sudden, possessive weight. his knuckles are still slick with your release, and his diamond blue eyes are completely wide again, staring at the pink ruined seam of your core like he’s about to perform open-heart surgery without a license.

slowly, hesitantly, xavier tilts his head. his long eyelashes flutter as he leans in, the tip of his tongue darting out to gently and awkwardly lick the excess white cum dripping from your lower lips.

he flinches at the taste, his ears turning a fresh violent shade of maroon. you can see the nervousness radiating off him; he looks up at you through his messy ash-blonde fringe, his eyes wide and seeking validation like a dog that just accidentally knocked over a vase. the contrast is hilarious. he’s the one who made the perverted request, but he has absolutely no blueprint for how to actually do it.

you open your mouth, a mocking jibe sitting right on the tip of your tongue, ready to dismantle whatever is left of his dignity—

schlick.

xavier buries his face directly into your heat, his mouth pressing clumsily against your clit.

the sudden sloppy sensation makes your head snap straight up against the bamboo wall, a sharp breath hitching violently in your throat. your fingers instantly claw into the rough wood of the crate. he is entirely uncoordinated, his nose shoving hard against your skin as his tongue licks in a frantically flat rhythm that feels more like a wet puppy.

but god, he’s enthusiastic. way too enthusiastic.

“f-fuck,” xavier mumbles against your wet folds, his voice muffled, vibrating directly against your sensitive skin. a high, pathetic whine breaks from his throat between heavy suctions. “shit... i'm getting... i'm getting so hard again.”

“xavier, stop just flat-licking me like a freak,” you gasp out, trying to regain a shred of your authority while your lower half shivers under his mouth. you reach down, your fingers tangling into the soft, damp strands of his blonde hair to guide his head. “swirl your tongue. swirl it right there on the tip. and suck... like this.”

he whimpers against your skin, his hands tightening on your thighs, bruising your skin in his effort to obey. he tries to mimic your words, his tongue swirling awkwardly, catching the sweet spot just enough to make your knees shake.

“like this?” xavier croaks, his head suddenly bobbing up from down below. his face is an absolute disaster—lips glistening with your wetness. “am i doing it good?”

“go lower,” you breathe out impatiently, your hips twitching forward. “you talk too much.”

“i-i'm sorry,” he stammers out pathetically, his boyish features crumpling into a flustered scowl before he ducks his head back down.

this time, driven by your command and his own desperate need to be a good boy, xavier opens his mouth wide. he presses his lips flat against your opening and drives his tongue straight inside you. deep.

squelch.

the wet intrusion stretches you all over again, his tongue pushing into the slick path his fingers had carved out. it’s heavy, hot, and completely unpolished, but the sheer force of him burying his face into your pussy makes your entire world tilt. you fist your fingers deeper into the strands of his ash-blonde hair, the soft texture slipping between your knuckles as you use your grip to ruthlessly guide his head. you push him down, forcing his face entirely into your aching thing.

xavier lets out a muffled whimper right against your wet folds, his lips vibrating against your clit as he tries to draw in air. a tangled chain of choked curses—fuck, please, shit—bleeds directly into your skin, swallowed up by the sloshing wetness he's created. but he doesn't pull away. the absolute pervert doesn't even try to fight you. instead, his fingers slide up your skin, his nails digging ruthlessly into the soft meat of your outer thighs until they leave angry crescent marks that bloom into a fierce crimson. 

you really thought you could just toy with the loser and walk away unscathed, didn't you? look at you now, pinning a shirtless, twitching virgin to your lap in a deserted smoking area while a bassline thumps half a mile away.

the worst part is, the loser is actually a fast learner. his tongue stops the clumsy licking and starts to focus, his instincts adapting with a greedy terrifying speed. he swirls his tongue with an erratic friction right over your most sensitive knot of nerves, combining it with a suction that makes your pelvis lift completely off the wooden crate. then, a tight knot begins to coil deep in your lower belly, tightening with every sloppy degrading lap of his tongue.

suddenly, his large hands slide under your knees. he yanks your thighs inward with a bruising force, pulling you so close that your face is nearly level with the top of his head.

“x-xavier—ngh!”

the sudden change in angle forces a shattered whimper from your throat, your legs trembling helplessly up in the air—and xavier takes absolute advantage of your exposure. 

he buries his face much deeper, driving his nose hard against your pelvic bone as he begins to eat you out with a violently frantic hunger. his tongue pistons straight inside your opening before curling up to swipe your clit in a messy relentless pattern.

it feels so good it’s sickening. your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling his scalp so hard your knuckles go white, but he just whines and sucks harder, completely drunk on the taste of you. the knot in your belly snaps.

“sh-shit, xavier—wait, wait-!”

too late, your words are completely drowned out by a sudden violent spasm that rips through your entire lower half. your walls clamp down like a vice, and before your brain can even process the sensation, a thick hot gush of clear fluid erupts from deep inside you.

you're squirting.

you're violently squirting right into his face, the hot liquid spraying across his nose, his lips, and flooding his mouth all at once. “shit—fffunmck!” xavier lets out a muffled, terrified squeak, his eyes flying wide open in shock as he’s suddenly drowning in your release. he tries to jerk his head back, but your hands are still buried deep in his ash-blonde hair, ruthlessly holding his face down just to pin him to the source of your climax while you shake and sob under his mouth.

the spray of your release slowly tapers off into a quiet drip, leaving the bamboo enclosure thick with the heavy scent of cum and salt. your fingers finally loosen their white-knuckled grip on his hair.

the moment he’s freed, xavier pulls his face away with a gasp. his mouth is parted, his lower lip trembling as your second climax literally drips down the boyish slope of his chin, glistening under the low light. shit, he looks so fucking cute like that—like a completely corrupted and overwhelmed bunny who doesn't know whether to run away or bite.

he stays on his knees for a second, looking up at you from the sand with an anticipated expression.

“did you... did you really just... twice? you came... twice? from my... from my fingers and... and my tongue?”

you click your tongue. “don't be so full of yourself.”

he slowly stands up, his long legs noticeably shaky beneath his cargo jorts, which are still heavily stained and ruined from his own embarrassing mishap earlier. “shit,” he mutters under his breath, turning his head away. “shit... fuck...”

you let out a small chuckle, finally lowering your trembling legs from the wooden crate and letting your feet sink back into the cool sand. “you actually kind of did a good job, bunny,” 

xavier’s head snaps back to you, his eyes wide. “you really think so?”

you nod, sitting up a little straighter against the makeshift high chair, adjusting your messy hair. “yeah. look at you. you can actually go save this for the next time you need it, you know? consider yourself graduated. you basically have experience now.”

it's kind of hilarious how desperately you're trying to regain control when your thighs are literally vibrating.

xavier stays dead-silent for a beat. he reaches up with the back of his hand, aggressively wiping the wetness from his lips and face. “yeah... maybe. yeah. that... that makes sense.” 

he blinks, his eyes tracking your movements. “wait. where are you going?”

you tilt your head, reaching down to grab the waistband of your underwear and shorts, casually pulling them back up over your sticky thighs and into place. “i'm going back to my friends. they must be looking for us—well, for me—already.”

“what?” he croaks out, taking a clumsy step toward you. “why? where—aren't you going to stay?”

“and do what? stand in the dark with a guy who ruined his own pants in two minutes?” you shoot back, letting out a sharp laugh as you swing your legs off the crate and stand up.

but the moment your feet hit the sand, your knees completely buckle. wow. your legs feel like absolute, wobbly jelly, a direct consequence of his three-fingered pistoning. you stumble slightly, taking one awkward small step toward the exit of the bamboo clearing.

“hey, you can't just—i mean, you're the one who came in here and started—” 

he suddenly cuts himself off.

before you can even take another step, a pair of pale hands lunges forward from the dark. xavier grabs your upper arms with a suddenly startling grip, and with a frustrated grunt, he pushes you harshly back against the makeshift high chair.

thud.

the rough wood bites into your lower back again as you slam into it, your eyes widening in complete shock and pain. that caught you so thoroughly off guard you actually couldn't say a single word, your breath trapped in your throat as you stare up at him. xavier is standing right between your legs again, his shirtless chest heaving, his face bare inches from yours. 

sensing your stunned silence, the pathetic loser instantly panics.

“i—i'm sorry,” xavier stammers out. his scowl is deep, pained, fighting his own greedy instincts. “i didn't mean to—to push you like that. i just... i really want you to stay. and... uh... shit. fuck it.”

he swallows hard, his lower lip quivering as his gaze drops down to your covered lap.

”i really want to fuck you. right here.”

you stare at him, stunned. did he just...? did you hear him right? 

he swallows again, licking his lips. “i... i really want to pound my dick inside you until you see stars.”

“what the fuck?”

“sorry,” he blurts out immediately, his voice cracking as the realization of his own sudden aggression catches up to his fried brain. “i don't... i don't know where that suddenly came from.”

you stare up at him, your chest heaving as the initial shock wears off. a slow little smile pulls at the corners of your lips, the absolute thrill of having this untouchable outcast completely at your mercy giving you back your teeth. “is that what you really want, xavier? you want to fuck me right here in the dirt?”

xavier lets out a long ragged breath, his forehead dropping down to press heavily against yours. his eyes squeeze shut, his long eyelashes wet with a fine sheen of panicked tears as his hands blindly rush down to the waistband of your shorts. “yes,” he whimpers, his fingers clumsily fumbling with the button and zipper all over again with a frantic speed. “yes, fuck... please...”

before you can even utter another mocking remark about his lack of technique, xavier grips your hips and shoves you fully down against the flat wooden surface of the makeshift high chair. with a sudden heave of his arms, he hoists your legs right back up into the air, pinning them wide apart on his shoulders. 

“xavier... wait...” but he doesn't give you much time to adjust.

with a low, shaking curse—”fuck, fuck, it hurts so much”—his fingers dive into the front of his cargo jorts. he yanks the fabric down just enough to finally set his dick free. it springs out, thick, violently throbbing, and heavily glistening with the messy cum that had been soaking through his clothes the entire time.

he doesn't even know how to line himself up properly. he blindly presses the tip against your lower lips, and with one uncoordinated thrust of his hips, xavier slides right into your tight heat.

“ahhhhh, fuck!~”

a loud moan tears from his throat, a messy, echoing symphony of pathetic noises that reverberates through the vicinity. his entire body goes completely rigid the second your tight walls swallow him, his eyes rolling back as he immediately begins to thrust, his movements erratic, frantic, and entirely devoid of any seasoned rhythm.

your hands fly out to grip the edges of the wood, your head snapping back as a sharp gasp cuts through your throat. “x-xavier—wait, shit, you're so thick...” you can feel the heavy weight of his shaft still crowding against your outer lips. “a-are you... are you even fully in?”

xavier lets out a pathetic sob, his chest heaving violently against yours as he hitches your legs even higher on his shoulders. 

“n-no... it's not all the way in,” he gives a short, shallow twitch of his hips, his knuckles turning white where they’re anchoring into your thighs. “if i... if i push it all the way in, i'm going to—i'm going to fucking pound you until i cum. it's too tight. you're so fucking hot—”

“then do it, pound me until you cum. show me what you've got.”

the directive completely snaps the last thread of his sanity.

grunting, xavier leans all the way down, burying his face into the crook of your neck as he slams his hips forward with everything he has. he presses himself all the way in, burying his entire length into your pussy until you could feel the fucking tip hit you at the spot. “xav—shit!”

xavier turns into a completely unhinged moaning mess above you, trembling violently as he begins to frantically drive himself back and forth into your wetness. he is ridiculously tearing up, actual drops of sweat and panicked moisture spilling from his eyes onto your skin as his hips hit you with a sloppy, uncoordinated force.

slap. slap. squelch.

“f-fuck... yes, like that... look how well you take my dick,” he whimpers into your ear, his tongue darting out to blindly lick your jaw in a messy, wet display of affection. “you're taking all of it... you're stretching around me so good... shit, shit, this is all i've ever wanted. this is fucking it...”

he hooks his arms under your knees, lifting your legs even higher and spreading them brutally wide apart until your thighs are pressed nearly flat against his ribs. the angle is completely unshielded, forcing your womanhood to open up to its absolute limit as he drives back into you.

slap! slap! squelch!

he isn't moving with that hesitant, stuttering rhythm anymore. xavier has completely lost his mind to the friction, his hips slamming into you faster, harder, until the rough wood of the makeshift chair groans beneath your weight. he is an absolutely unhinged mess above you, his torso slick with a heavy sheet of sweat that glitters under the amber bulb. tears slide down his flushed cheeks, dripping directly onto your chest, but he doesn't care. he just allows himself to pound into your tight heat like a fucking machine.

it's so intense, so fiercely deep, that it catches you completely off guard. for a second, it’s like he isn't even a virgin anymore; he’s a starved pervert who has suddenly found the exact cadence to tear you apart. your fingers claw into his shoulders, your toes curling in the air as you try to hold back your noises, biting your lip until it hurts.

but xavier notices. 

with a grunt, he leans down and bites hard on the sweet spot where your neck meets your shoulder. the sharp sting of his teeth forces a high-pitched yelp right out of you, your hips involuntarily bucking upward into his heavy groin.

“d-don't... don't hide it,” he pants heavily into your skin, pulling back just enough to drive himself all the way to the hilt again. “let me hear you... fuck, you're so tight, your pussy is clamping down on me so hard... it's wrapping around my dick...”

his hips keep hammering into you, a relentless punishing pace that turns your insides into pure mush.

plap! plap! plap!

“give me everything,“ xavier whispers, a frantic sob catching in his throat. “give me everything... give me everything... give me it... give me you...”

his voice begins to fade, squeezing into a tight, strained wheeze as the overwhelming friction starts to drag him toward the edge. his movements grow shorter, more violent, his hips twitching in tight desperate jerks while he buries his face back into the crook of your neck.

“just like that... fuck, yeah, just like that... just like that...” 

he is fucking you silly, driving into your tight heat with a relentless speed that turns the small bamboo corner into a blur of heavily wet impacts. the sheer, unbridled force of his hips slamming against yours makes both of you practically see stars, your eyes rolling back as the muffled bass from the beach party fades into absolute white noise.

“f-fuck... ~ah, ah!~” xavier wails directly into your neck, his teeth grazing your skin while his pace hits a punishing peak.

suddenly, his fingers dig into your thighs with a bruising grip, his toes clawing into the dark sand below. with a loud, choked-out sob, he drives himself all the way to the absolute hilt, spasming, his thick length hitting your womb repetitively.

and just like that, he comes thoroughly deep inside you, a massive release that pulses hard against your walls over and over again. your chest heaves, a shattered breathless moan tearing from your throat as you take the full brunt of his climax. shit, that felt so goddamn good.

for a long minute, the only sound in the enclosure is the ragged overlapping pattern of your breathing. xavier stays slumped against you, his forehead resting on your shoulder, his chest heaving like a runner at the end of a marathon.

and then slowly, with a trembling grunt, he makes an effort to pull himself out. the sudden separation makes you let out a soft, aching whimper. as his thick shaft slips free, it reveals a glistening strain of liquids from the both of you—a messy, thick combination of your squirt and his hot release—that instantly gushes out, dripping down the dark wood of the makeshift high chair and splashing lazily onto the dark sand below.

xavier stares down at the mess between your legs, his mouth parted.

“fuck,” he curses under his breath, pushing his damp blonde hair back. “what the fuck... it... it really did happen. oh god.”

you let out an exhausted groan, bracing your elbows against the rough wood to painfully sit back up. your legs are still trembling, completely numb from the weight of his pace. you look straight into xavier’s eyes.

“are you... are you really even a virgin, xavier?” you pant, your voice dripping with a mix of genuine disbelief and lingering malice. “what the hell was that? you didn't move like one at all at the end.”

xavier flinches slightly at your words, his long eyelashes fluttering rapidly as he looks away.

“y-yeah, i told you, i am,” he looks down at his ruined, stained cargo jorts, his bottom lip quivering slightly before he forces himself to look back up at you. “i just... i didn't know what suddenly came over me. i just... felt like... fucking you like that. because you were being so mean.”

“well,” you breathe out, your voice still a little raspy from the screaming he forced out of you. you reach down, slowly dragging your underwear and denim shorts back up your thighs, the fabric sticking slightly against your skin. “that was... definitely something, xavier. guess you don't need to practice on your pillows anymore.”

the mocking barb is meant to give you your armor back, but xavier doesn't snap back with his usual cold defensive drone. instead, he just lets out a small breathless huff, his lower lip twitching into a tiny, pathetic line that looks almost like a sulk.

“shut up,” he mutters, the curse completely devoid of any real heat. he reaches down to awkwardly pull up the waist of his jorts, his long, pale fingers still trembling so hard he can barely button them. “don't... don't say it like that.”

you hop down from the wooden surface, your feet sinking into the cool sand. your knees give a dangerous, wobbly shake the second they take your weight, and you have to blindly reach out and plant a hand against his bare shoulder to keep from dropping right back down. xavier instantly freezes under your touch but he doesn't pull away. his large hand instinctively hovers near your waist, ready to catch you if you trip.

“wow, still such a helpful little bunny.”

xavier swallows hard, “are you... are you really going back to the resort?” he asks, his voice dropping into that small, needy whisper again. “right now?”

“i have to,” you murmur, finally pulling your hand off his shoulder and stepping past him toward the narrow exit of the bamboo stalks. “my friends are probably wondering if i fell into the ocean. and you need to go wash those pants before someone thinks you spilled a whole drink on yourself.” 

he lets out a faint, flustered groan behind you, but he doesn't try to stop you this time.

as you take a step out into the open air, the loud throbbing bass of the beach party hits you full force, a stark contrast to the mess you’re leaving behind. you pause for just a second, tilting your head back over your shoulder to look at him one last time. xavier is still standing in the shadow of the bamboo, looking like an absolute freak—completely disheveled, beautifully flushed, and entirely ruined for any other girl on campus.

“Yes, ma’am,” you reply, grabbing Xavier by the arm and pulling him closer. “What about our pay?” Xavier asks again. Jenna glances at him, then at you. “I liked him better when he kept his thoughts to himself,” she mutters before leaving.

“Xavier, you can’t just ask that in front of everyone,” you scold him while dragging him down the hallway toward the empty break room you usually use. “I can’t help it,” he admits. “I wonder why the fluctuations only affected you,” you say as you prepare coffee.

Because of the protofield fluctuations, abnormalities may occur, just as Jenna warned. Throughout the day, your suspicion proves right— Xavier seems completely unable to keep his thoughts to himself. Whatever crosses his mind comes straight out of his mouth. To everyone’s amusement… well, almost everyone’s.

“You’re so blunt, Xavier.” You sit beside him and hand him a cup of coffee. “I didn’t want coffee,” he replies. He notices your hurt expression and quickly adds, “Without sugar, I mean…” before getting up to fix it himself. “There’s so much going on in your head that you never share. I wonder what else you’ve never told me.” Xavier sits back down beside you. “A lot.” “Like what?” you ask. “I can’t summarize every unspoken thought. You’ll have to ask directly… though I’d prefer you didn’t.”

You hesitate, until….

“Sorry, bunny, but I can’t pass this up. Who knows when I’ll ever get another chance like this? Besides, you’re always so secretive.” Xavier finishes his coffee and sets the cup down with a dull thud. “You’ll regret that tonight,” he says, eyes still fixed on the cup.

“Pff, it’ll be worth it. Now, let’s see…” You squint at him and think. “…Right! Say, did you actually like that dress I wore last time? The short one with the cherry print? The one I wasn’t sure you were telling the truth about?” “Yes. I thought your ass looked great in it,” he says flatly. You nearly choke on your coffee. “M-my what?!”

“And…” he continues, “…I kept thinking about how easy it would be to get under it, since the dress was so short.” “XAVIER!” Your face burns bright red. “Wait…! Is that why you… we… you know,” you mumble shyly. “Why I couldn’t wait until we got home and dragged you into the restroom?” He nods. “Yes. I was impatient.” Flustered by the memory, you quickly get up to clean your cup.

“Maybe you were right. I shouldn’t have asked. Let’s just get back to work,” you mutter. “No.” Xavier stands and wraps his arms around you from behind while you’re at the sink, pressing his bulge into your back. You can feel him— cock hard, grip tight around your waist.

“I always imagined having my way with you in this break room,” he whispers into your ear. “The way you lean over the sink with that slight arch in your back… it always got to me.” You put the cup away but don’t turn around. “In fact…” his hand slips into your pants. “…there are plenty of places in the Association where I’ve imagined us together.”

He pushes his fingers underneath your panties, rubbing them along your slit. “X-Xavier…” a soft moan escapes you. “W-we’re at work… We’ll get in so much trouble…” “I don’t hear you asking me to stop,” he responds, and just as he’s about to slip his fingers in, you hear someone’s voice echo in the hallway, causing you to panic and yank Xavier’s hand out of your pants.

Two Hunters enter the break room. “Xavier, is your hand okay?” one of them asks him. “Yes, I just burned myself on the hot coffee,” he lies as he licks your fluids off his fingers. The two Hunters each grab a coffee and leave the room again.

“Wait, Xavier… you didn’t burn yourself,” you say. “No, I didn’t.” “But… you lied? Shouldn’t you have had to tell them the truth with the way the fluctuation is affecting you?” you ask, thinking it’s suspicious.

unfortunately for you, he was perfect in every other way.

he never left the kitchen dirty (mostly because he never actually used it) and your share of the bills was always paid before you even remembered they existed. compared to everyone else your age who treated deadlines like vague suggestions, you decided you could live with the noise.

plus…he wasn’t that bad.

he was funny, had annoyingly good taste in tv shows, and, unfortunately, he was attractive. like, really fucking hot.

any time you actually managed to get irritated with him, he’d stroll out of the bathroom with a towel hanging dangerously low around his waist, droplets sliding down sharp v-lines and a sculpted stomach that sat directly at your eye level making you forget whatever you had been upset about in the first place.

all things considered, he wasn’t the worst.

except for nights like this.

you heard it before you’d even gotten your keys out of your pocket, muffled dialogue leaking through your apartment walls the second you stepped inside.

you dropped your bag by the couch, trying to ignore it as you looked through the fridge for something to eat. ‘it’ll be over by the time i’m in bed’ you repeated like a mantra, beginning dinner while scrolling on your phone. the noise blurred into the background the same way all of xavier’s noise eventually did, until it didn’t.

because when you crawled into bed an hour later, freshly showered and in comfortable pyjamas, it was still going.

you stared at the ceiling.

another muffled sound drifted through the wall as your eyes narrowed. with a long sigh, you shoved your blankets aside and dragged yourself down the hallway, mentally preparing the speech already sitting on the tip of your tongue.

you lifted your hand towards his door, about to twist knob until you heard a moan…of your name.

what the fuck?

heat crawled up your neck as you eavesdropped, the sound of skin slapping becoming increasingly apparent.

“fuck starlight” his voice whined, spitting into his hand before the wet slaps resumed. “so fuckin’ good for me”

your mouth felt dry. of course you thought xavier was hot, but had the feeling always been mutual?

you leaned forward with an ear pressed against the door, eyes squinting in an attempt to hear better. his bed creaked repeatedly before letting out a final grunt, inconsistent thrusts slowing down until everything fell silent.

the sound of footsteps padding across the floor jolted you from your thoughts. your body moved on instinct, dropping onto the couch just as his bedroom door opened.

“hey, star,” he smiled.

completely normal, relaxed, like the sound of his voice—his groans—wasn’t still rattling through your skull. his chest gleamed faintly with sweat as he looked at you.

“night,” you blurted, fleeing to the safety of your room before he could respond.

your heart raced through the night, replaying the way he’d sounded until embarrassment slowly curdled into irritation.

not only was xavier loud in the apartment, now he had to be loud in your fucking head too?

by the time you were getting ready for work, you’d settled on a new objective: torture him back. it was only fair.

the sound of someone clearing their throat snapped you back to the present. your tea had gone cold between your hands while you sat glaring at xavier’s unfairly perfect back.

his muscles shifted as he washed last night’s dishes before casually pouring himself a bowl of cereal. you were still brainstorming ways to make him suffer when you realized he’d been talking to you.

“whats running through that pretty head?” he asked far too smoothly. you rolled your eyes automatically, a snarky response already forming before your plan clicked into place.

slowly, you stood from your seat at the island, dumping your cold tea into the sink before letting your hands settle on his shoulders.

his muscles tensed beneath your palms, the tiny reaction making satisfaction curl warmly in your chest.

“just thinking about what a nice view this is to wake up to.”

he nearly choked on the spoon in his mouth.

you didn’t stick around to admire your work though, skipping off to finish getting ready before leaving for work with a smug grin pulling at your lips.

usually your shifts dragged by, but today flew. you stepped through the apartment door practically buzzing, kicking off your shoes, until the silence hit you.

xavier worked evenings.

your smile faltered as you remembered he wouldn’t be home until well past midnight.

with a sigh, you reheated leftovers, set aside a portion for the villain you unfortunately lived with, and spent the next hour meal prepping for the week.

eventually, you started toward your room only to pause at the sight of Xavier’s door slightly cracked open.

slowly, you drifted toward it, leaning against the frame as you took in the comfortable mess of his room.

a few abandoned pairs of shoes crowded the corner, but aside from that, he was annoyingly tidy. the bed was made, his nightstand was almost empty, save for the remote and a bottle of water. simple, very…him.

against your better judgment, you stepped inside. the room smelled like clean linen and something distinctly Xavier.

your eyes landed on the bed. you hated that your thoughts immediately betrayed you, your brain transporting you back to hearing him tangled in those sheets.

before you could overthink it, you sat down, the mattress dipping beneath your weight being much softer than you expected.

your hand ran absently across the blanket, suddenly overwhelmed by how much of him seemed to linger in the room. slowly relaxing into the warmth of his bed, you inched your hand across your own skin, nerves lighting up with every movement. your breath caught as you went back to last night, imagining your roommate in his bed doing the same.

fabric rustled as your legs fell open, a hand slipping below your pants to alleviate the heat building. your fingers met wet skin before dipping in, circling your clit as a shaky exhale left your mouth.

“x-xav…” you whined, eyes tightly shut as you continued to please yourself. the shame of doing this in his bed had you dangerously close already, hand speeding up while clutching the sheets below you.

a whimper fell from your throat, nearly falling over the edge until the sound of a bag hitting the ground snapped your eyes open.

“don’t stop on my account, looked like you were close”

you shrieked as you scrambled for the blanket, attempting to regain a sense of decency. “why are you here?!” you shouted, heat rushing to your cheeks as your eyes scanned the room for anything else to look at.

xavier chuckled, pulling his sleeves up as he took a step to the bed. “me?” he questioned, voice dripping with amusement. “this is my room, starlight. why are you here?”

you stuttered while trying to come up with an excuse, pulling the sheets impossibly higher and praying the bed would just swallow you whole.

his feet padded across the room, stopping just before the bed with his shadow cast above you.

“had me thinking of you all day, y’know that? made me think i was going crazy, but you wanted me just as bad huh?”

the immediate shake of your head earned a scoff from him, his fingers lifting your chin to make eye contact. “don’t fuckin’ lie to me.”

your eyes widened, heat building between your thighs once again at the harsh tone he spoke with.

“h-heard you the other day, i’m sorry but then couldn’t stop thinking about it and—“

you spoke a mile a minute, only slowing down when xavier took a seat next to you.

he nodded, tongue in his cheek while he looked at you. “took you long enough. can’t believe you didn’t notice the missing panties or teddy first”.

eyebrows quirked, you looked around his room before he pulled a box from beneath his bed, opening it to reveal several pairs of your underwear, along with the first plushie he won for you from the claw machine.

your mouth dried at the sight, a chill wracking through your body as you watched xavier pull out a light blue pair.

“these ones are my favourite” he mumbled, moving it to his nose just for you to lunge at him in an attempt to stop. in your panic, you forgot to keep the blanket held up, landing in his lap.

the two of you stared at each other for a while before he broke the silence. “you’re right…”, his voice merely above a whisper, “don’t need them when i have the real thing”.

his lips inched closer to yours, breath fanning across your face until you closed the distance between you two. he groaned against your mouth, a hand immediately shooting up to press you even closer. you shook as his tongue entered your mouth, eagerly lapping up as much as he could before withdrawing from you, a string of spit connecting you to him.

kisses pressed down your neck before landing at your breasts, lifting your shirt for full access. his pupils dilated at the realization you had no bra on, not wasting another second before enveloping a nipple in his mouth. he moaned at your taste, using his other hand to knead the neglected breast.

your mind raced as you tried to process what was going on, completely enamoured by your roommates bold behaviour.

“touch yourself”

the vibrations against your chest made you look down at him, confused on the order.

“let me see what you were doing before i got here”

you blushed as he let you off his lap, your pants falling as you stood before him. he sat back, hands bracing against the bed before he nodded towards his lap. “don’t get shy on me now, starlight.”

you straddled his thighs once more, this time moving your own hand to grope your breasts, fingers trailing towards your heat. he licked his lips while grabbing your thighs, grip bruising.

slick lined your thighs as you began to slowly circle your clit once more, the heat of his body below you egging you on.

“xav..” you whined, head falling to his shoulder in embarrassment.

“don’t do that, waited so long for this”

your hand sped up at the sound of his hoarse voice, hips jumping in sensitivity the longer you went. just as you were about to reach the edge, he pulled your hand away, bringing your fingers to his lips.

running his tongue across your fingers, xavier threw you on his bed before beginning to undress himself, the absence of his pants revealing a large bulge with a prominent wet spot already at the tip.

you began to second think the situation, wondering if it would ruin your dynamic as roommates until he pressed his lips against yours once more, sucking on your tongue as he pressed himself against your bare cunt.

“my star…” he groaned, pushing his boxers down and letting his cock slap against your wet heat.

your hips jumped at the sensation, his tip catching on your entrance from the action leaving the both of you moaning. “hurry…” you mumbled, still shy despite how exposed you were.

xavier smirked at the command, grabbing the base of his cock before slapping it on your swollen nub. “demanding stuff from me?” he questioned, continuing his ministrations and relishing in the way you convulsed. “after being so dirty on my bed, you’re telling me to just fuck you already? here i thought you were a good girl…”

you pouted at the tone in his voice, hands running up snd down his bare shoulders as you stared up with doe eyes. “i’m sorry, xav…please? put it in?”

he blushed at the lewd words spoken with such a sweet voice, nodding as he lined himself up and slowly sank into you.

“oh fuck, starlight. better than i ever thought,” he spoke, veins in his neck bulging with the restraint he was exerting to not bottom out in one thrust. when you finally felt the hairs at the base of his cock rub against your clit, you felt fuller than ever. “s-so big” you moaned, scratching down his back causing xavier to begin fucking in and out of you, thrusts becoming erratic with each movement.

“h-harder” he cried, one hand grabbing his headboard for more leverage to thrust into you. “fuck, scratch me harder angel, wanna bleed”

you nodded desperately, running your nails down his back with more force, cunt throbbing when he let out a pornstar like moan. “holy sh-shit…fuck, again please. punish me for being a creep baby.”

you felt his thumb come down to rub at your clit, bringing you close to the climax you’d been denied twice already.

your nails gripped at his skin again, harsher than before. feeling the skin beneath them give in, you brought them down to the base of his back, finally falling over the edge as he pressed down on your clit the same time a tear fell from his eyes.

“f-fuck that hurts, feels s’good, gonna fill you up” he chanted against your neck, spurts of cum spraying inside you in time with the droplets of blood running down his spine.

you laid below him as the two of you rode out your respective orgasms. the sound of heavy breathing was the only audible thing in the room as his cock twitched inside you, slowly hardening once more.

“my turn to punish you now, right?”

“And I thought I was the one to fall asleep anywhere.” The soft voice, laden with care, is said a little louder because who could even hear you at this late hour? The streets are empty, with remnants of parties and crowds visible in confetti, and bars are cleaning up their outside seating. But now, it’s just you and Xavier. 

Swiveling your head to stare up at the Hunter, a puff of air, indignant and pouty, explodes as you cross your arms over your chest. “I don’t know how you’re so unaffected by the day we had.” A tired smile, one that has Xavier blinking slowly and roaming his eyes across your features, curls at the corner of your lip. “You should be more tired than I am, with the extra operations you were sent on.” 

Being Xavier’s partner was both a blessing and a curse. 

On one hand, the missions that you went on were always full of playful banter and shared laughs while protecting each other from the horrors of Wanderers. You slipped through cracks and slowly became the talk of the office with how well you worked together and how powerful you both were. 

On the other hand, there’s a pulsing in your chest every time he stares a little too long at you. Like you want him to keep looking. It’s fleeting and disappears as soon as he turns to slash at a monster who had gotten dangerously close. But it’s there. Daydreams of closing that gap between friends, coworkers, and something more happen more often, so often that your other colleagues have started to notice you zoning off. 

So, when he gets called to do solo missions, you miss him, but you're also glad you have some time to breathe. 

Suffocating like a weight on your chest, these feelings are stones pushing incessantly on already cracked ribs, ready to cave in with each small pebble being added. First, it’s the way he smiles; subtle and sweet. Then, it’s the way he acts; gentle yet constant. Then came his soft voice, his endearing awkwardness, and his attentiveness to you. 

It all culminated in a budding affection for him. 

A crush, heightened by the proximity to him nearly every day, blossoms into the wildest flower. A flower fed by his smile, his laugh, his voice, and his warmth. It’s uncontrollable, turning into something that causes your heart to race uncontrollably when he’s around. 

“I’m not that tired.” Shrugging away the fatigue, he holds open the door for you to step into the elevator, ready to crawl right into bed and sleep until the alarm blares for the start of the next day. “The missions today weren’t that complicated.” 

He’s right. Just a few sightings in No Hunt Zones that were dealt with fairly quickly, but going back to the office to write reports between each painstaking journey back and forth. It wasn’t too complicated, but each report seemed to draw longer and longer until it was sunset and you were ready to just sleep at your desk. 

“Still, the computer screen was abnormally bright today… Just like these lights.” A chuckle comes from both of you as you look up to the fluorescent bulbs of the elevator.

Xavier smiles. “If only I could take away the light instead of creating it.” Another joke, lighthearted and so Xavier that, through tired muscles, you mimic his own smile. Then, as the elevator dings for your floor, he gestures for you to go first. “I guess the elevator heard us.” 

That charm bleeding through his words never fails to affect you. 

“So you’re the elevator whisperer now?” Despite the banter, your voice is slow with fatigue. Finally getting to your front door, you turn to face him. “You’re a man of many talents, huh?” 

“I guess so.” He hums, nodding as he stands far enough away that you can barely catch the subtle scent of his cologne, too far away, if you had anything to say about it. 

There’s a beat of silence when you’re both staring at each other with shy smiles and heavy-lidded eyes. You can’t guess what he’s thinking, since he’s such an enigma with stoic features that only ever soften slightly when he sees you. 

But you never catch that. 

“I’ll…” The beat of your heart thunders in your ears, despite the sleep tugging at your eyes; every nerve in your body lights up when he steps just an inch closer. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

Technically, it’s midnight, but neither of you makes the correction. 

“Yeah,” Xavier exhales—soft and subtle—like he wants to say more but doesn’t. “Good night.” 

With that, he turns on his heels and strolls down the hallway, climbing the short staircase up one floor until he reaches his apartment—the one right above yours. His pace doesn’t lessen. If anything, it quickens as he locks his front door and runs a hand through his hair. 

Fuck… What are you doing to him? 

Watching him leave, you do the same: locking your front door and running a hand over your face. It’s hard to concentrate when every time you blink, his bright blue eyes shine back at you, like a memory you can’t forget. 

What’s even worse is the sleep that turns into frustrated tossing and turning when you finally change into comfortable pajamas and curl up in bed. It’s impossible—even when earlier in the night, you were so hellbent on collapsing into cotton sheets as soon as you set foot into your apartment. 

The clock hits just past two in the morning, and impatient footsteps pad out into the kitchen, where a kettle is waiting to be used. Your favorite tea—warm and soothing—fills you with a comfort that you can only compare to what you think Xavier’s hugs are. 

Snuggled up in bed, your eyes drift closed with each slow blink—hair falling into your face. The tea works so quickly that you finish half of it before your head lolls to the side in drowsiness. It’s only when you’re tucked into blankets and curled on your side that you can’t think a single thought before you’re fully asleep.

In your dream, you’re sitting in a classroom.

Odd… It’s been a while since you’ve dreamed something like this. 

Looking around, nothing specific sticks out along the walls. A plain chalkboard. Standard desks. Everything is normal, like the epitome of sitting in a classroom before it fills with students. 

Except that the paper under your hand has your name on it. 

Huh… “What?” The thought is verbalized before you realize it, head tilting to the side as you glare down at the ink as if just staring will change it. A plain metal nametag—once again, with your name—is pinned to a cardigan, which is the same color as the walls around you. 

The worksheet, which you’ve just now noticed, is full of math equations, reminds you of the homework you would take home at the end of the day. It’s all textbook classroom, and judging by the fact that it isn’t a dream meant to embarrass you or manifest a Wanderer to chase you down the halls—yet—it’s definitely not a typical school dream. 

“What the—” 

“So you’re here, too.” A voice—always gentle even in your dreams—comes from the doorway, and you whip your head around to find Xavier leaning against the door frame. “This whole school is empty.” 

The shock on your face registers with Xavier, something flickering across his face that you couldn’t place even if you tried. But he covers it up just as quickly as it manifested, like it was hidden under the surface. 

His outfit—the same cardigan and khaki pant combination—matches yours, even the square on his chest with his name printed in a very professional font. It’s all the same… Which means you’re classmates? 

“It’s just us?” A million questions float around in your head, and yet the most superficial one comes from parted lips. “Where’s everyone else?” 

Xavier shrugs, one hand clutching the strap of a backpack while sitting down at the desk in front of you. His eyes never leave yours, testing something behind confused eyes and soft lips. 

“I don’t know…” It’s honest, an unsure answer born from a curved smile, and you’ve never seen him so playful like this. Maybe this is how he was during school? “Maybe there’s an apocalypse, and we’re the only two people left.” Then, his finger taps the paper in front of you. “And yet, you still have homework.”

Rolling your eyes, you twirl the pen around your fingers. “Of course, the perfect trope for a dream.” A laugh slips, your eyes catching Xavier’s as he rests his elbow on your desk. “I mean, homework doesn’t matter when none of this is real, right?” 

You’ve never been able to distinguish between dream and reality, but right now this feels like a realm between. Not quite asleep and not quite awake. 

Like purgatory.

The expression that passes over Xavier’s face is stern yet still unreadable. “You think this is a dream?” Like you’ve said something wrong, shattering this dreamland where anything is possible into something absurd and ridiculous.

“I know it’s a dream…” Trailing off, your voice drops into almost a whisper. “You’re only here because of this silly crush.” The confession, unintentional but loud in Xavier’s ears, is only said because, of course, the real Xavier wouldn't know this secret. 

This isn’t the real Xavier…

“A crush?” 

“Yeah.” 

“On who?” The words are clipped, not wanting to hear the answer, and yet still leaning closer in curiosity. 

“On you.”

A healthy pause bites into the air, almost suffocating if it weren’t for slow breaths and the soft tapping of his fingers on the desk. Like, he can’t sit still when he’s just learned of this crush you harbor for him. 

“It’s probably more than a crush…” It all comes out in a vomit of words, because you’re just talking to this… dream Xavier… He won’t know a single thing you say to him in the morning. “But every time I see you, it gets stronger and stronger. So yeah… definitely more than a crush.” 

A hum, low and incessant. Then, his hand presses against your forehead. “Yep, I think you’re running a fever.” Hidden behind a slight rasp that depicts more than his normal smooth tone, there’s a hint of endearing softness and silky monotone. 

“Careful,” the tease doesn’t leave your tone. “If you keep showing up in my dreams, I may fall for you even more…” 

Xavier clears his throat, the tips of his ears burning. “I was kidding about the school being empty.” 

Almost on cue, the bell rings from above you, and faceless people filter through the classroom door. The image of Xavier leaning on your desk becomes just a mirage in the smoke, and the last thing you see before you wake up is a tight smile on his usually relaxed expression.

The alarm blares in your ears, mimicking the classroom bell almost perfectly. 

On your walk to work, the dream keeps replaying in your mind. The subtle smile curls when you think about how handsome Xavier looked — still like his current age despite being in a school uniform — and how warm his palm was on your forehead. 

But even so, there's a nagging feeling that maybe this dream meant something. You hadn't dreamt of your colleague, neighbor, and friend at all, and the sudden appearance threw you for a loop when you first emerged from sleep. 

Then the reminder that soulmates find each other in dreams—that they share dreams—crashes into you. 

Surely not… The Xavier you met last night didn't seem like he knew anything of your current world, nor did he acknowledge you in any different way, as if he knew it was a dream as well. 

Right?

An odd tenseness in the air lingers around you when you finally get up to your floor. Coworkers smile and attempt to make small talk, but this incessant throb in the back of your head tampers your mood down into silent nods and absentminded hums. You’re not really listening, but luckily, everyone is too preoccupied with running their mouths to realize. 

When Xavier walks in just ten minutes after you, your eyes automatically follow him. 

His hair is a bit more mussed—most likely from sleep—and each step he takes seems like his last, feet dragging until he plops down into his chair. Usually, he would smile at you or come over to talk about the few hours between getting off work and being right back here. 

But he didn’t spare you a glance. 

A tight jaw and furrowed brows continue to work through reports, his hands typing so fast on the keyboard that you almost don’t even see them moving. Moving lightning fast, there’s an urgency there that isn’t normal for the lackadaisical man who leisures his way through reports and slashes through Wanderers on the field. 

And as much as you want to go up to him and make small talk, you know when to give him some space. It’s not often he gets into moods like that, where nothing registers in his brain except the task in front of him. It's almost as if he wants to forget something. 

No… Of course not. 

It’s not like he remembers the dream. It’s not like he was there? 

So why does it feel so empty when he gets up and rushes off with a beeping watch for a solo mission? One that doesn’t involve you. 

“You look like a lost puppy.” 

Simone, one of your colleagues, taps her finger on her coffee cup, the noise like a sharp blade through the low hum of chatter throughout the room. It’s a welcome distraction from the empty seat across the room. 

Tearing your gaze away from his desk, you look up at her. “Uhm, no…” It’s a lie. You know it, and she gives you a look that tells you all you need to know. “I’m fine. Just tired, is all.” Your shoulder jerks up, attempting a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. 

Her eyes bore into yours over the edge of her coffee cup. She hums, “Oh, really? I didn’t know staring at Xavier’s desk and pouting like that was you being tired.” A perfectly arched eyebrow lifts, knowing she’s got you right where she wants you. 

“I… Uhm…” You’re caught, but you brush it off with another shrug, not wanting to say anything of your little crush—if it still could be called just a crush. It wasn’t, because the feelings that quickly surface when you think about his smile don’t do much to help your situation. “I didn’t realize I was looking over there.” 

It’s the best excuse you can come up with, because it’s far less vulnerable than the truth. 

“Have you had any dreams yet?” 

Her question is obvious—have you met him in your dreams? Is he your soulmate?—but it’s a slippery slope of emotions when last night comes into your mind. Torn between truth and a small white lie, it’s unclear which one will hurt the least. 

“No.” While a lie, it’s still technically accurate. He wasn’t coherent in the dream. It was just a mirage of what you wanted and not what you had. 

Wanting to end the conversation, you turn back to your work, the blinking cursor some solace from Simone’s sympathetic smile. Her hand touches your shoulder, brushing close to your hair for a split second before pulling back. 

“Some people don’t see their soulmate for a while.” A statement meant to reassure you only stabs at your heart. “You never know what’ll happen.” She drags out the last syllable in a singsong voice that does bring a smile to your face—albeit fleeting and already gone when she looks at you. 

Sensing the end of the conversation, she steps away with a raised glass and a soft smile. “I’ve got some reports to write, but I’ll catch you later!”

“Catch you later, Simone.” In the nicest voice you can muster, you call out after her as she walks away. The dream of Xavier in that uniform, holding a hand to your forehead, how real he seemed when he wasn’t… It’s going to haunt you, and a tiny part of you wishes that it wouldn’t happen again. 

It would be easier to crush your hopes now.

“You had an eventful day, huh?” The night air is crisp when you walk down the sidewalk—the same familiar path to your apartment building with the same familiar face strolling beside you. 

But something is different. 

His steps aren’t the same measured taps against the pavement as usual. Heavy then light. Quick, then slow. Trying to match your pace, but it’s obvious something else is on his mind. 

“Yeah…” The leather gloves that cover his hands flex. “They sent me on a lot of missions today.” 

Once again, silence. 

It’s suffocating; it’s even worse when you notice his eyes locked onto his feet. He makes no effort to maintain eye contact, unlike his usual behavior. No effort to bump into you playfully or joke about Captain Jenna fussing about Xavier’s late report. 

Just radio silence. 

Xavier has always given you the space when you need it—backing off and raising his hands in retreat when the clouds in your brain shroud the sun. That is one of the things that burrowed deep in your heart and forced that small seed of a crush to grow into an uncontrollable garden. 

So, like him, you back off. 

Not blatantly, because you don’t want him thinking that you don’t care at all—because the reality is that you care a lot—but intruding on his space when he is overthinking will only make it worse. It’s a slippery slope, but knowing each other since you started at the Association, it’s a slope you’ve slid down many times before. Familiar and easy, just like anything is with Xavier. 

Silence borders each step, the music of the elevator filling the space briefly before you’re standing in front of your apartment door. 

It’s a constant, Xavier walking you to your door, no matter the circumstances; he wasn’t going to skip out just because of this storm cloud hanging over his head. 

“You worked hard, Xav.” The nickname twitches his brow, almost imperceptible if you didn’t pay attention to every little detail. “Get some rest tonight.” 

His face falls, something that could be perceived as exhaustion flickering across his face, before he nods. “Yeah, you too. Sleep well.” 

With that, he turns on his heels and walks quicker than ever before until he reaches the elevator. 

You don’t dream about Xavier that night. 

You don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

The following dream didn’t come for a week. 

In the days between, Xavier is back to his usual self. The banter, the jokes, each time you have a minute between missions, stretching like hours when you’re with him. It only makes the ache grow stronger when you fall asleep that night—a Wednesday night that is like any other—and it happens again. 

This time, it’s an odd place—one you can’t place until you walk out of the ornate room you woke up in and see the grand staircase. 

It’s some sort of castle. 

What kind of castle? You don’t know, but the intricate filigree on the handrail and the soft blue light streaming in from every large window create an eerie feeling that is only heightened when your footsteps echo like sharp blades in the silence.

Your feet are on autopilot, knowing where to go without knowing exactly where you’re going. A hint of deja vu flickers, but it’s quickly wiped away when you catch a glimpse at the large expanse of land peeking through the window behind a large throne. 

But you don’t head toward the beautiful throne. Instead, you take a few turns until you’re in a kitchen. 

Then, your stomach rumbles, and you realize just why your feet brought you here. 

The only sound is you rummaging through cabinets, trying to find something to eat. You don’t know why you're here, the dream making no sense while you search and search and search. It doesn’t seem like there is anyone else here, so you rummage and look through drawers, but you only find one thing. 

Mushrooms.

An indignant sigh slips from your lips, and you inspect the mushrooms of seemingly all the same species. Your knowledge of plants doesn’t reach that far—especially in a land like this—so you put them back into the cupboard, running a hand through your hair. 

“Not finding anything to your liking?” 

A voice startles you, causing a surprised yelp as you whip around to find the source of the deep rumble. 

It’s… Xavier? 

No.

He’s different.

It’s definitely him, with his striking blue eyes, the set line of his lips, the soft slope of his nose, but his hair is longer—much longer—and his clothes are those of a fantasy royal. In the back of your mind, you think about searching for a mirror to see if you still look the same.. 

And his voice. 

It’s deeper, more stern and stoic, which you didn’t think was possible. Almost like the Xavier you first met. It took him time to warm up, and even now, he still has a gentle monotone voice at times, but that’s your Xavier. 

This doesn’t seem like your Xavier. 

“It’s… all mushrooms.” Stating an obvious fact, the Xavier in front of you laughs, a rough chuckle that would seem mocking if he didn’t have the hint of a smile. 

Nodding, he takes a step closer. “Correct. There are no other forms of sustenance here.” 

Then you see it. 

A slight sparkle in his eye, glimmering with recognition that is gone in a blink. Once again, akin to the first dream you had with him in the school, your eyes widen, and your breathing hitches. 

Instead of breaching the topic, because you would look like a fool if this Xavier wasn’t yours, you cross your arms, soft silk brushing your skin. “I’m hungry.” 

When he laughs, it’s like your Xavier is back. “If you don’t like mushrooms, then I don’t know what to tell you.” 

There’s a tense silence that follows, daring the other to break it with words that hold little meaning when the only thing you want to ask is: “is that you?” This line between reality and dream is thin, especially with the idea that Xavier might be the one. But the fear that he isn’t, that someone else is your soulmate when your feelings for Xavier only grow, is what keeps you from speaking. 

“How about you go to bed?” He whispers, a subtle worry in his voice as he takes a step. A sudden spark shoots through your veins when he lays a hand on your arm, goosebumps sharp as they rise along with the hair there. “I promise I’ll try to find something in the morning for food besides these mushrooms.” 

Despite the rumble in your stomach, you nod. “Okay…” 

With a gentleness lingering into affection, he cradles your elbow and takes measured steps up the staircase. He knows exactly where your room is and the layout of the entire castle, navigating it with ease. 

“There we go.” Before you know it, a plush mattress meets your back, lowered with the utmost care. He lingers, sitting on the edge of the bed for a moment, and in the moonlight, he looks sad. 

Like a lovesick man, trapped in his thoughts, although you don’t know this version of Xavier, your heart breaks at the dimness in his eyes. 

Reaching your arm out from under the blanket, you rest your hand on his bicep. “Stay with me.” You plead, uncertainty laced in your voice as you look up at him. “Until I fall asleep?” 

There it is—the crack in his armor.

Silence, and then: “Okay,” said in your Xavier’s voice. Not the deep and demanding tone from the man in the kitchen, but a gentle melody that wraps around you like a blanket. “Sleep…” After you remove your arm, he tucks you in, making sure you’re secure before sitting back. 

His stare should be intimidating, but it’s not. 

It’s comforting, and within minutes, you’re falling asleep.

In the morning, Xavier doesn’t say a word when he walks into the office. It’s just like the week before, when you had the first dream he appeared in. Every time you dream about him, he shows up like this. Every. Single. Time. Like a pattern you can’t figure out, because there’s no logical reason it would line up perfectly. 

Once is a coincidence. 

Twice is a pattern.

Like clockwork, you go about your day, going on missions solo, and when the time comes when you have to accompany him, it’s filled with hollow words and jokes that don’t land. His expression is taut, and every Wanderer he kills is another reminder of his strength. 

Your Xavier is strong, but he’s so much more than that. 

He’s handsome. He’s gentle. He’s stern. He’s playful. He’s attentive, and he knows you more than he says. Each little action shows how well he knows you. 

When it’s time to walk home, it’s filled with an awkward silence like the one before. Tense and filled with unspoken words that nearly drive you crazy with each slow step on the pavement. 

Instead of breaking the precious silence with words that would fall flat, you stay quiet, letting the pure sense of your presence do the talking. I’m here if you need to talk, you think, your eyes stealing a glance over to find his brows furrowed and lips pursed into a thin line. 

His features burrow between each beat of your heart, stabbing you over and over and shrinking you until you’re a grain of sand on an endless beach. It’s not like he means to make you feel that way; it’s all your own mind and worries that look too much into each movement. It probably doesn’t have anything to do with your dreams—it’s not like he remembers—but it still stings when he walks carefully to your front door. 

“I’ll… I’ll see you tomorrow?” You stutter, ready to input the code to your apartment and bury yourself under the covers. 

Xavier meets your eye for the first time that night. “Yeah, tomorrow.” Then, with a small smile, full of wry fakeness, he nods. “Good night.” 

When you finally start to drift off, you try to will your brain not to dream of Xavier. 

But it’s never that easy. 

“Xavier, you’re so funny!” A loud voice rings out through the Association. Well, it’s not like it’s much louder than the usual idle chatter in the room, but to you—and to your dreaming brain—it’s a booming voice in your ear. 

By the time you realize it’s a dream, you’re staring at Xavier, in his regular Hunter’s outfit, looking as handsome as ever, and staring up at a woman who’s standing right in front of his desk. 

She’s beautiful. Really beautiful. 

“How many awards have you won with UNICORN again?” Once again, her voice pierces your eardrums, and a sinking feeling opens up in the bottom of your stomach. She’s obviously flirting with him. 

“I didn’t keep track.” His monotone answer is different with her than with you. When he speaks to you, his tone changes very slightly, enough for only you to pick up on. With her, he’s saying something just to appease her.

Why would your brain show you something like this?

Clenching your jaw, you watch as she touches his arm, leaning even further until she’s very much in his space. “Can you show me sometime?” 

“No.” Xavier shakes his head, staring down at his report as he outlines the most important things to include. He’s very methodical in his research, never letting it get too lazy. It’s also why he’s sometimes a day or two late in turning in said reports. “I’m busy.” 

She huffs, her Hunter’s uniform looking off as she crosses her arms and stands up. “What could be more important than spending time with me?” 

His head raises, eyes scanning the room, and the breath leaves your lungs. 

He’s looking right at you. 

No feigned incoherence. No mirage of dream Xavier, who doesn’t realize he’s a main character in your nighttime adventures. There’s that sparkle again, and you don’t mistake it this time when he smiles at you. It’s tinged in sadness, like he knows what this means, and knows you’ll figure it out. 

“Spending time with her.” He says, your body freezing when she locks eyes with you. Something in her face twists, and she becomes unrecognizable, like a blank slate of a person waiting to be filled with unique characteristics. 

Before you can say anything back, confirming your own cognizance or even reaching out a hand for him to take, you’re ripped from the dream with a gasp. Your alarm blares in your ears, and a drop of sweat travels along your hairline to soak into your bangs. 

He knows. That’s Xavier in your dreams. Your Xavier. 

Your soulmate.

The realization hits you hard, causing you to fall back onto your bed with a thud while also worrying about everything else under the sun. He had known for the past two dreams: at the school and in the palace. That was Xavier, and he was coherent. Every word he spoke was from his lips, from his brain, from his heart. 

But it still doesn’t confirm he wants this. That he likes the idea of you being his soulmate, because the thought of him being yours… It sends your heart into overdrive, your body heating up at the prospect of a forever with Xavier. 

The walk into work is long because you’re replaying every little instance in those previous dreams. Each gentle touch, each soft word, and affectionate stare. Like he’s always meant to be by your side, no matter where you are. 

Why didn’t he just say so in the first place? 

The thought eats at you when you sit down at your desk, the voices around you melting into nothingness. The reports pile up, reminding you of missions to complete and previous ones to write. It’s a cruel reminder that you’ll always be stuck with Xavier, even if he regrets being your soulmate. 

Being without him is more complicated than being with him at a distance, so you try to suck up the sorrow and put on a smile. 

The moment Xavier walks up, he notices something's wrong. The smile is fake, and the lights don’t sparkle in your purple irises. Furrowing his brows, he clears his throat and gestures to the pile of reports. 

“Ready to get rid of some Wanderers, partner?” 

Partner. 

It stings, even in a different context. 

After a breath, you try to steel your emotions and smile, “Yeah.”

Xavier knows better. He knows that you’re not in a good mood right now, and while he wants to ask if it’s because of the dream, if you regret him being your soulmate… 

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t even ask if you’re okay, because you hate it when people ask that, so he nods, but not before rummaging through his bag to find what he’s looking for. “Here,” he says softly and slowly, setting down the bag from your favorite cafe. “They had your favorite pastry, so I stopped by before coming in.” 

The corner of your lip curls slightly. “Thanks,” it’s harsher than you wanted, and even you flinch when you look up to meet his eye. It’s the same stare he gave you last night, and you can’t make yourself look at him for too long. The dual guns strapped to each thigh and the claymore are all ready for action, and you fight to smile one more time as you take the pastry out of the bag. 

“I’ll finish this, and we can start the missions.” Xavier nods again, backing off and giving you the space to let the emotions play out. It’s one of the things you like the most about him, that he is always willing to give you the time to yourself, the time you need. 

The missions, albeit awkward, are a chance for you to help the public, do your job, and forget about the nagging feeling whenever you are back-to-back with Xavier. His weak spot, exposed only to you. The trust he thrusts into your hands has your palms sweating and heart thumping in your chest. 

Then came the walk home. This time, the sun wasn’t gone, no. It peaks through the clouds, drifting ever closer to the horizon. Dipping lower and lower, your feet drag on the pavement. 

Xavier doesn’t walk right next to you. There’s a small space between you, one that feels so much like an ocean when in reality it’s just a puddle. While you know it’s just out of respect and worry, it still digs into your heart. 

Now, the roles are reversed. 

Instead of your eyes focusing on his expression, his eyes are locked onto yours. A hint of worry and concern edging into sapphire blue while he tries not to run into any light poles. He’s too distracted by you, and his growing anxiety about this whole… soulmate situation. 

Before he knows it, you’re standing in front of your apartment. With your head dipped low, it’ll only be a bit until you’re better; until you can come to terms that your soulmate doesn’t want you, but for now? 

It hurts. 

“Good work today,” you manage, clearing your throat and putting on a smile. Your fingers fiddle with the edge of your uniform, ready to take it off and change into comfortable pajamas. 

Xavier’s eyes roam over you, taking in every single detail that he wishes he could implant in his memory—the furrow of your brow, the downturn of your lips. 

“Thanks,” Xavier can’t do anything except say that, the words caught in his throat before he clears it and nods. “You too…” Then, in an act of confidence and desperation, he reaches out to straighten the collar of your shirt. “You’re stronger than you think.” 

The compliment disguised as a comfort to your solemn expression burrows into your skin, like a balm that soothes the ache in your chest. But it doesn’t help much. You’re still thinking about the dreams, about him being your soulmate. About him, still not saying anything. 

“Thanks…” A beat… And then, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He wants to say more, but he holds his tongue. It’s all lost on him when you’re the one to turn into your now open front door. One last smile finds him before you close it, and Xavier sighs. 

That night, when he goes to sleep, he wishes on every star that you’ll be in his dream again and that he can finally tell you everything on his mind. 

But you’re not.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

It’s naive to think that life can just go back to normal when you’ve learned that your colleague, friend, and neighbor is your soulmate, but it’s an illusion you’ve pulled over your eyes to buy yourself a few more days. 

Life will never go back to normal, because there will always be something hanging over your head when you see Xavier. Whether it be in dreams, which haven’t happened since the last dream in the office, or in the field when you’re backing him up on a Wanderer attack. 

You tell yourself it’ll get better, but just when you’ve tricked yourself into a healthy sleep schedule, it comes back. 

You’re sitting on a kitchen counter. One that’s distinctly not yours because of the lack of decor. There’s a rack of spices, a toaster, and a few dishes in the sink. 

It’s obvious whose kitchen you’re sitting in, even before you see him. 

Pale skin stretches over tense muscles, coiling tight while he stalks you like prey. The grey sweatpants on his hips hang dangerously low—taunting you with a subtle V-line and flexing biceps. Each step he takes brings him closer, and you’re stuck rigid on the cool granite that bites into your bare thighs. 

He’s calculated, getting all the way up to where you sit before he speaks.

“I need you.” 

And you wonder if this is your Xavier or a sick, twisted dream your brain conjured up. It was still a mystery how this soulmate dream thing worked, and you didn’t know if he was always lucid in the dreams you’ve shared. 

In the back of your mind, though… You don’t care. 

“I need you, too.” 

There it is, the dam breaking under unbearable pressure. The weeks of pent-up frustration and disappointment when he didn’t seem to acknowledge the weight between you. The room in your heart that he’s rented out, knowing it may not be a permanent house for him… 

It all culminates in this one moment. 

He doesn’t speak. Instead, he walks over until he’s slotted himself between your thighs. Warmth radiates from bare hips, your knees hooking around until you’re crossing your ankles behind him and holding him closer in a feeble attempt to appease your feelings. 

The kiss starts slow. 

It’s a languid dance of your lips together, savoring every slow breath or aroused gasp as you explore each other for the first time. A tense awkwardness settles when he pulls away just enough to zero in on the blush filling your cheeks and the wide eyes that shine back at him. 

He dives in for another. 

This one is rougher, more tongue and teeth scraping against bottom lips as his hands skim along your bare upper thighs, slipping under the hem of your baggy shirt and settling on the skin of your hips. Meanwhile, your own hands wrap around his neck, pulling until you’re completely flush against him and panting with each centimeter of space you’re given. 

“Xavier,” it comes out in a breath of fresh air, like you won’t just wake up and go back to the monotony of work tomorrow with the expectation that you have to temper your feelings and hope he doesn’t say anything. 

“Shhhh,” his lips move to your jaw, nudging your head up with the tip of his nose while he grinds his hips against your panty-clad core with agonizing speed. Each kiss is another inferno ignited inside you, and you can’t think of anything else when he presses an intimate kiss to your pulse point, listening with unrestrained glee at the hitch in your breath. “I’ve got you.” 

And he does. 

Stepping back from the counter, one of his hands cups the flesh of your ass while the other moves further up your shirt to trace the ridges of your spine. His footsteps are clunky and awkward, which makes it all the more endearing when he sets you down on his bed and pulls back with a wince. 

“I kicked the doorframe.” 

His complaint is met with a breathy chuckle, but you don’t have the time to say anything back when he’s climbing onto the bed and hovering his entire body over yours. In just sweatpants, he is reminiscent of a god, the light emanating from him giving him a subtle glow in the rapidly darkening sky. 

Reverent hands trace every ridge of your body, pushing your shirt up to expose the skin of your stomach and the peaks of your breasts. Without a bra, he happily mouths around the pebbled nipple, bringing one into his mouth with a lewd wet noise that would have you cringing if he weren’t so dangerously hot, kneeling between your thighs and feasting on your body. 

His pillow is comforting on your head when you fall back, throat exposed, and hands trembling through silver locks. “Xavier…” 

The groan that reverberates through you sends your heart into overdrive. “Again.” Deep and commanding like the long-haired Xavier in the palace, he rasps out the order before switching attention to the other breast. 

“Xavier,” another breath, another low moan when his pronounced bulge grinds against the dampening of your panties. 

Xavier takes his time descending, sucking marks into your skin that bloom almost instantly. It isn’t until he’s reached the waistline of your panties that your hips buck on instinct, chasing something that you only want from him. 

Hooking thumbs into the hem, your eyes meet Xavier’s, watching as he slowly pulls—

It’s like you’re falling. 

Your body shoots out of bed, eyes wide and unfocused. The dream you just had, it seemed so real… 

Too real. 

Each breath catches in your lungs, reminding you of the sight between your thighs, messy hair tickling the bare skin while he readies himself to expose every delicious inch. But of course it was a dream. Of course, it wasn’t real. Isn’t real. Will never be real. 

The ringing of your phone catches you off guard, and when you look at the Caller ID, your heart sinks. 

“Hey, Xavier.” His name falls from your lips with a wince, like you don’t want to manifest anything in the short space between his apartment and yours. Not when it’s possible he can hear any whimpers or noises. “What’s up?” The short tone of your voice while you try to mask how breathless you are doesn’t work in the slightest because he sounds just as wrecked as he swallows the lump in his throat. 

It’s like a standoff, wondering if one of you will mention the dream, because now you know he’s your soulmate, and he was there too. He said those words. The exact words that echo in your head when you close your eyes. 

On the other line, Xavier sits up against his headboard, in grey sweatpants and no shirt, while he tries to process everything as if it hadn’t hit him like a freight train. “Hi,” just as fake-composed and breathy as you were.

“You had that dream too… Right?” You’re the first to broach the subject. Why else would he call at nearly one in the morning if he hadn’t woken up at the same time as you from a shared wet dream? 

It also doesn’t help that you are in a baggy shirt and panties, just like the dream. 

“Yeah.” Succinct is Xavier’s middle name, his chest still glistening with a light sheen of sweat as he runs a hand through his hair. Every breath he takes is nearly painful, like being so far away from you—even if it’s just one floor—and the following words come from a low gasp. “I did.” 

He’s about to say something when your sweet voice rings in his head, saying every syllable that he had wanted to hear. It’s like a dream come true. Literally. 

“Do you wanna come down to my apartment?” The invitation sits in the air for a second, marinating in the silence of what if I read it wrong? Or what if he was calling to tell you to stop dreaming of him, as if that were possible? 

You wait and wait. 

Only a minute passes until you hear a knock at your balcony. 

Peeking your head out from the hallway, your stomach flutters when Xavier waves through the glass. His phone, still in his hand, faces you as he hits the ‘End Call’ button and points down to the handle. Let me in? 

After seeing you in the pajamas, you don’t bother putting pants on as you pad over to the balcony doors and open them. He steps in, shivering slightly from the nipping cold, and stands there.

“How did you get down here?” You ask, and Xavier fights a laugh. Of all the things, this is what you say first? But it’s a welcome change to the intense atmosphere, sprinkling in some of the banter that’s always been there in your friendship. It’s the same comfort that you always bring him, even in his mood swings or quiet walks; you’re a presence that blankets over him and puts his heart at ease. 

The tips of his ears turn pink as he rubs the back of his neck, a sheepish smile on his lips that sends goosebumps along your skin. “I teleported.”

“You teleported ten feet to my balcony.” You deadpan, the hint of a smile on your lips at how eager he just admitted to being. “Why didn’t you just teleport into my room?” 

Wide eyes meet yours, and the blush on his ears deepens. Then, as if you hadn’t just had a borderline sex dream with him, “I didn’t want to teleport into your room without permission.” 

All of his actions only reaffirm your feelings for him. It’s no longer a crush because you don’t think about a crush from the moment you wake up to the moment you fall asleep. You don’t see small trinkets or colors and associate them with the color of your crush's eyes or his lips. 

A small laugh, and as you stand in front of each other in your living room, it becomes increasingly clear what this means. The clouds have parted, revealing a shining truth that can’t be ignored anymore. 

“You’re my soulmate.” You mumble. 

“And you’re my soulmate.” He counters, the smile never leaving his lips as he stands too far away. You need him closer. 

Silence. 

Your hands fly to your face when you realize something. 

“I confessed my crush on you the first night we shared a dream…” A groan of embarrassment and shame runs through you, hiding your heated cheeks and parted lips from him. “I can’t believe I did that. I’m so sorry. Oh my g—” 

His fingers wrapping around your wrists bring you back to reality, cutting off your words with a single touch that sends a rush through you. Not a rush of desire, but a shock to your heart, bringing it back to life after being tempered down for so long. The worry of him not feeling the same, not being your soulmate, stops as soon as you meet his eyes.

“The dreams always ended before I could find the courage to confess.” He says it in such a matter-of-fact tone, like it was the easiest thing to admit, when in reality, his heart might stop at any minute from the nerves. “Don’t apologize…” Stepping closer, he leans down until his nose brushes yours. “I thought it was cute.” 

This kiss is much like the first one in the dream. Exploratory and sweet. Just two people learning each other inside and out while also navigating this tricky road of feelings and fate. But for you and Xavier, both feelings and fate brought you together. 

It’s too short, and you sigh when he pulls away much faster than you wanted. 

But it’s not long until he’s whispering into the shared breaths between you. “Wanna pick up where we left off?” 

His eyes darken when you nod, hands roaming your sides before tugging at your thighs—an unspoken command for you to wrap them around his bare waist. So you do. 

Each kiss lines the path to your bedroom, which he knows from the times he’s come over and from the identical layout to his own place. It’s simple, really, how easily he fits into your life as more than a friend. As a soulmate. Like he was never meant to leave, staking permanent residency in your heart and kicking out anyone who would dare to knock. 

“God, princess.” The growl rips from his throat when he pins you against the bedroom door. Hardwood meets your back, but it doesn’t hurt. You’re too preoccupied with Xavier’s lips on the line of your jaw and his clothed length grinding against your panties to think of anything else. 

It’s so much like your dream, but infinitely better because this is real. 

Your thighs tighten around his waist, head falling back to the wall while you tug harshly on his hair. It’s both a silent plea and a silent warning. 

What you don’t expect is the deep and almost mocking chuckle that leaves him as he stands up straight. His lips leave your skin, glistening in spit and already red from how he was devouring your neck. 

“What is it?” Tilting his head, there isn’t a moment you can recall him looking even hotter than he does now. Like daring you to say something else, or giving you a glimpse into how deep his desire runs for you. “Already too worked up to form words?” 

It’s not mean, but the way he speaks so teasingly, as if he wasn’t wrecked himself, sends a shiver down your spine. You can’t get enough. You’ll never get enough. You don’t want to get enough. 

“Xavier, please.” 

He laughs at your plea, one of his hands kneading the flesh of your ass and the other slipping under the hem of your shirt just like in the dream. “Please, what?” Once again, his voice drops impeccably low, head dipping down to mouth at your neck while he whispers. “I’m not going to give you what you want that easily, princess.” 

Damn him. 

With all pretense of embarrassment gone, since he literally shared the same wet dream, you buck against his hips. “I want it all.” You finally relent, tilting your head to give him more access as he paints blooming flowers along your skin. “I want whatever you’ll give me.” 

“Fuck—” Xavier wastes no more time, pulling off the door and setting you on the bed. Despite his harsh words, he’s still gentle in his handling of you. He knows you’re not glass, but he would never forgive himself if he actually hurt you.

Your shirt is the first to go, because with so few clothes separating you two, now just a pair of sweatpants and panties, it’s hard not to feel completely exposed to him. But the touch of his hands on your breasts, cupping and kneading them before lowering his head to kiss and suck the sensitive skin, has you arching into his touch. 

“You’re playing a dangerous game.” He mumbles against your nipple, tongue flicking the pebbled bud before diving back in with increased fervor. The warning falls on deaf ears; your head is already full of everything you want him to do to you. 

Defiant as always, you shake your head and lock your legs around his hips. “I don’t care.” You whimper, one of your hands digging into his scalp on the back of his head. “I need you.” 

A mimicry of the dream, but this is real. This is Xavier. 

Your Xavier. 

“I’ve got you, princess.” Without the interruptions of sleep, his thumbs hook into the waistband of your panties, dragging them down in one smooth motion before holding your thighs open. Every time he uses his strength to put you in place, it makes you moan, your chest heaving with bated breath as he kisses along the inside of your thigh. 

“I’ll start where we left off.” Licking his lips, his thumbs spread you open, exposing your throbbing clit and fluttering hole. Xavier takes a moment to admire how beautiful you look spread out for him, your muscles tensing under his fingertips and your hips twitching for more. 

A long lick nearly crushes his head between your thighs. “So responsive.” He whispers, burying his face in your pussy without a care in the world for his oxygen levels. In this regard, he’s still learning. Each flick of his tongue is accompanied by an awkward kiss that does nothing but push you further into desperation. He’s teasing without meaning to, and when you whine again, he tilts his head. 

“What?” Xavier whispers, and as he speaks, his middle finger traces the tight ring of muscle, pushing into the first knuckle and watching your reaction. “Making demands when you’re the one beneath me, princess.” 

With one finger curled deep in your walls, you know you’re not going to last long. It’s been days—maybe weeks, maybe months—of zoning off at your desk, imagining the way Xavier’s hands flex and move under those gloves and how they would feel on your bare skin. Or his perfect nose and how perfectly he could rub your clit while his tongue is deep inside you. 

Thoughts you never imagined would become reality are so close, and you can’t help the wanton moan that slips when he thrusts his finger while making out with your slick pussy. “You’re so… beautiful… You know?” Every few words are punctuated by a loud kiss to your clit, feeling the way you pulse around him, and he’s very quickly becoming addicted to it. 

“Fuck, god. Xavier—” 

“I know, I know.” He relents, watching the twisting in your expression morph into one of pure ecstasy when he adds a second finger, stretching you out to the point of subtle pressure but not discomfort. It’s when he suctions his lips around your bundle of nerves that your body is lit up by a live wire. 

“Come on, princess.” A groan vibrates through your clit, and every sensation imaginable hits you square in the chest. His fingers buried deep inside you, curling with each thrust forward to grind against that spongy spot. His tongue and lips find out precisely what makes you squirm and use it to his advantage. 

But the one thing that’s your undoing is his voice. 

The praise mixed with the teasing depth doesn’t help the heat pooling in your abdomen, and all it takes is Xavier lifting his head to whisper a reverent. “Wanna see how perfect you are when you come around my fingers,” to push you straight over the edge. 

Xavier’s other hand locks onto your hip, making sure you don’t move away from him while your warm walls pulse around his digits. If his cock wasn’t already throbbing and desperate… 

“Good girl,” the soothing words are spoken into your inner thigh, catching your breath as he cleans off his fingers with his mouth. It’s lewd and borderline erotic when he strips off the last of his clothing, revealing the curved length that’s leaking and begging for you. 

Xavier stares down at you, one hand stroking his cock while the other massages the muscles in your calf. His eyes roam your body, taking in everything he’s ever imagined. “Fuck, princess. You look amazing like this.” 

While he speaks, the tip of his cock parts your folds, teasing you with just the head dipping inside your entrance before withdrawing. It’s cruel, you think, as your hands reach out for him. 

His hand pushes your leg up, bending your knee and spreading you even wider for him. “I thought about putting you on your hands and knees.” He’s speaking absentmindedly, more to himself than to you, his imagination running wild. “But I want to see your pretty face when I fill you for the first time.” 

Before you can respond, he’s sinking in you. It’s so slow that you might cry from how intense it is. The stretch, the heat, how full you feel, and when he’s finally flush against your pelvis, how perfectly he fits inside you. 

“Like I was made for you.” A smirk curls at his lips, but all you can do is whimper and stare up at him through watery eyes. 

Leaning down, he maneuvers your leg until it’s in the same bent position as the other one, your calves resting on his shoulders, and your body completely at his mercy. But like this, so spread out and vulnerable underneath him? It’s the most intoxicating pleasure you’ve ever felt. 

“Can I move?” A nod, and one of his hands slides up your arm to thread your fingers together right beside your head. “Words, princess.” 

“Ye-ah… Please,” you gasp out, forehead resting against Xavier’s as he draws back all the way, just to drive forward into you with a grunt. Both of you let out a shuddering breath, puzzle pieces falling together like sand in time’s hourglass. 

Xavier is feral, his body moving on its own accord as he fucks you with slow, deep strokes. He’s savoring every moan that you let out, swallowing it with his lips while holding onto your hand for dear life. 

“Imagined this.” He pants against your lips, spit-slicked and swollen from how he’s kissed you like a maniac. “You under me…” 

“Xav—” Your moan is cut off by his kiss, all teeth, tongue, and whispered promises. Promises for the future, promises for the present, promises for every life after this one. All of it is written into your skin with each grind of his hips against yours. 

His hand presses your arm into the mattress, holding you still so your head doesn’t hit the headboard above you. Even in the depths of pleasure and haze of desire, he needs to make sure you won’t get hurt. 

The way your legs are pushed against you is uncomfortable at first, folded in half like a pretzel while he drives himself so deep inside you that the only thing you can think of is Xavier and his cock. 

“Fuck, Xavier… Your cock—” A broken moan comes when he angles his hips just right, wiping your brain of all words. Only sounds emit from your parted lips as your eyes fill with tears, hazing over your irises.

He hums, his other hand moving to thread through your fingers until both of your hands are held above you, clasped in Xavier’s like he’s your last lifeline. “I know, princess.” Speaking through gritted teeth, he fights the urge to explode when your pussy clenches around him. “You feel amazing… ‘m not gonna last long.” 

“Yeah…” You echo breathlessly, wanting so bad to buck your hips but unable to move at all with the position you’re in. “Me— me too.” 

Then, he’s kissing you again, his tongue tangling with yours while you fall into a puddle under him. One orgasm is intense, but the second one creeps up on you without warning. 

All it takes is for him to dig his knees into the bed, changing his pace to grind his pubic bone into your sensitive clit, and you’re coming around him with a whine that borders on a scream. 

Xavier talks you through it, kissing your cheeks and forehead, while whispering how good you are for him. Each word of praise fills your head with satisfaction, and you find that you like him like this. Teasing and slightly mean yet endlessly comforting and worshiping. 

“Good girl, good girl.” His thumbs massage circles into the side of your hands, but as soon as your orgasm subsides, you suck a breath through your teeth when he keeps moving. 

“Xavier— wha—” A moan, your body twitching and jerking in his grasp as he lets go of your hands and gives your thighs a break. Taking you out of that fold, your legs fall limp at your sides, and he takes the opportunity to grip your hips and pull you back onto his cock. 

His pace this time is maddening. It alternates between quick pounding and deep grinding, driving you crazy as your nails dig into his shoulder blades. 

“There you go, princess.” He grunts, teeth clenched as you mark him up like a signature. 

“‘s… too much— Xavi—” Your body burns with a stinging pain that sends sharp pangs of pleasure heating your bloodstream. Even if you say it’s too much, you don’t make a move to push him off of you. In fact, you bring him closer, your nails biting into his skin and holding him flush against you as he continues to wreck you from the inside out. 

Xavier laughs against your sweat-slick neck. “Come on, princess. You can give me one more.” His kisses distract you momentarily, but he starts the quick drilling of his hips, your voice pitching up into a scream as he kisses the shell of your ear. “Just tell me to stop, and I will.” 

But you don’t.

Luckily, you don’t have to do any of the work. He pushes and pulls you, hips meeting yours as he pulls back just enough to lock eyes with you. His hair is damp with sweat, cheeks flushed, and eyes half-lidded and dark while he kisses you one more time. 

“You look so beautiful. Doing so well for me.” Whisper after whisper, the tears slip down your cheeks as overstimulation sends you into another frenzy, one that has your grip tightening on his cock and hips grinding back into him in a slow rhythm. 

One of his hands cups your cheek, thumb wiping away the tear that falls as he feels himself getting closer and closer. “So pretty when you cry for me,” the praise whispered against your lips, has your heart racing in your chest. “So so pretty, my princess.” 

He’s out of it, body going on autopilot while he praises you between kisses. “Gonna fill you up, okay?” A nod. “Mmhm.” A sound of displeasure, his nose brushing yours when he shakes his head. “Words.” 

“Please, yes.” In the depths of two orgasms, it’s like a dream with the ecstasy that races through your body, wanting anything and everything he’s giving you and more—all of him, every last inch; yours for the taking.

“Fuck… Darling…” 

The sound of slapping skin is the only thing that echoes around you, your body tensing while he digs his fingers into the flesh of your hip, holding on for dear life as he stills. Your orgasms—your third and his first—hit at the same time, bodies colliding like shooting stars on opposite paths. 

His cock twitches, filling you while you both come down from the intensity of learning you’re soulmates, fucking, and the aftermath that hits you with tired limbs and sweaty skin. 

“You okay?” He whispers, his lips finding your temple while he looks down at you. The last of your tears falls, and he catches them with his thumb. “You did so well for me, princess.” 

A pleased hum leaves you, but it’s quickly replaced with a disappointed whine when his soft cock slips from your used hole, some of his release ruining the sheets. It takes him a moment to stand back and not immediately get hard again, but he can’t help it when you look so pretty, laid out like this, covered in remnants of him blooming on your skin and dripping from you. 

“I’ll be right back.” He leans down to kiss your forehead before retreating to get a wet cloth. Xavier cleans you off with slow strokes, ensuring you’re semi-clean before tossing the cloth and blanket off the bed. 

Once again, he disappears, but it’s only to start a warm bath. While that fills up, he sits on the side of the bed, his hand rubbing small circles into your knee. “Can you walk?” 

“I don’t know.” 

A chuckle, his eyes finding yours, and everything stops. “I’ll carry you.” He reassures, in a voice so serious that you stop breathing for a moment. “I’ve got you. I always will.” 

After the bath, when the sheets are changed, and you’re in a new pair of pajamas, you cuddle close to him. Your head rests perfectly on his chest, listening to his heartbeat steady against your ear. 

“Xavier?” He hums. “Can we still meet in our dreams?” 

“Of course.” His lips find the top of your head. “Soulmates will always share dreams. Just think of me, and I’ll appear.” The brush of his nose along your hairline makes you shiver. “I’ll even take you out on a date in your dreams if you want.” 

Despite the sleep pulling at your eyelids, you still force yourself to answer. “Why don’t you take me out on a date in the real world?” Knowing he harbors the same feelings as you means you can be a bit more shameless with the flirting. 

He laughs, the sound vibrating against your cheek as you nuzzle closer to him. “Are you asking me out on a date?” Rolling your eyes, you whine, but are immediately cut off when he kisses your forehead. “I’m kidding, princess. A date in the real world sounds amazing. But first.” Xavier tugs the blanket around you, freshly changed and smelling of your laundry soap. It’s the first night in a while where he’s sure he’ll sleep well, because he has his world in his arms. 

That night, he dreams of a field of forget-me-nots. They seem so tall, but he’s quick to realize he’s a small rabbit. He finds you, because he always will, and without words, you hop away from him. It prompts a chase of sorts, frollicking through the fields while the sun caresses his fur. 

Everything feels right, and you find yourself smiling in your sleep as you hop away from a bunny Xavier. It seems silly, but this dream is a reminder of the tie your souls have with each other, and the comfort that being with him brings you.

Because no matter what dreamscape you're in—whether it be as people, as plants, as animals, or even stars—you’ll always have your Xavier.