Harri

After ninety minutes of high stakes football, heart rates running at 200 mph, France had secured their place in the next round of the Euros.

Out of all that chaos, Michael hated the exhausting travels and the relentless stream of journalists and paparazzi camped outside the team hotel. But mostly, he hated having to burn through his remaining brainpower just to sneak you inside for at least one night together.

It wasn’t that he was embarrassed to be seen with you, or that he didn't care enough. He just wanted to protect the few moments of peace he had left in his chaotic life. Months of hiding you from the public eye, from teammates, close friends, and the media, had become second nature. Everyone wanted a piece of him, something to decipher or turn into headlines, keeping you secret was his way of keeping you safe, but selfishly, he also just wanted a part of his life that belonged entirely to him.

Right now, he had managed to sneak you past the back entrance and into a quiet corner of the hotel’s fancy restaurant, both of you hidden under oversized hoodies for a plate of overly expensive fries.

“You really snuck me into a luxury hotel just to eat some snacks?” You nibbled on a fry as a slight smirk grew on your lips.

“French fries,” he corrected, chuckling softly, the corner of his mouth curving up into a rare smile. “Great way to celebrate.”

Just as he started to lean in, Dembélé and Barcola strolled past the glass doors, deep in conversation about the match. In a heartbeat Michael shrank back into his chair, tilting his head away and pulling his oversized hood lower over his forehead as he casually grabbed another fry.

“If you’re gonna keep watching out for your mates, you should’ve just gone to the after-party or straight to sleep,” you teased, though you noticed the tight tension lingering in his shoulders.

“Nah, I wanted to see you,” he huffed, rubbing his tired eyes. “But in private. That was the whole point. You have no idea how early we’ve been waking up... I’m gonna sleep a whole day when we come back home.”

You bit your lower lip, giving him a light tap on his leg with your feet under the table. “You deserve it, star. You were amazing out there today.”

Michael slid his hand across the small table, covering yours, his rough fingers slipping beneath the cuff of your hoodie gently tracing the soft skin of your wrist and. “You know what else I deserve—”

“Would you two like any sauce with your fries?” A young waiter interrupted, offering a tight smile clearly reserved for working the late shift.

The usually nonchalant man froze across you, pulling his hand back to scratch his neck and turning his face that now flushed hard in a deep shade of red. “Thanks. It’s fine,” he mumbled.

Once the man walked away, you couldn't hold back a chuckle that rasped through your throat. “It’s fine.” You mocked him, muffling another laugh with your sleeves. “Oh my God, Michael, chill. We were literally just holding hands.”

“Shut up,” he muttered, his head still sideways, trying to hide the warmth on his skin, though a small smile trembled on his lips. “You know people can't find out about us.”

“I know, but you’re just so cute. All that red looks good on your face, Mickey.”

“Don’t call me cute.” His eyes flickered towards yours, head shaking in denial as a hint of bashfulness still lingered over him.

“Sure. How about that other morning, you clung to me for a whole hour before you’d even let me get out of bed? And to think that you spoke with Kylian on the phone and said you were ‘just with a friend’.”

“We are friends,” he countered playfully, a flirtatious spark returning to his eyes. “Friends with a lot of benefits and a slightly different label. But yeah... friends.”

You leaned back, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe I should go be 'friends' with Bellingham, then.”

“Fuck you.”

“Make me,” you mouthed back with a playful wink and a soft giggle.

The playful threat hung in the air just long enough for Michael’s jaw to tighten, a sharp glint flickering in his dark eyes. Without a word, he grabbed a couple of bills from his wallet, tossed them onto the table to cover the overpriced fries, and grabbed your wrist. An unmistakable possessive pull, leading you quickly through the quiet service hallways toward the private elevators. 

The second the heavy elevator doors slid shut, sealing the two of you inside the mirrored box, his nonchalance completely shattered. Michael pulled you against his chest, wrapping his arms around your waist so tightly it nearly got you out of breath. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply with a heavy contented sigh.

“Don’t say stupid things like that,” he mumbled into your skin, his tone completely different from the cold facade he kept outside.

“It was a joke, Mikey—”

“Don’t care. Still don’t like it,” he grumbled, refusing to loosen his grip even an inch as the elevator chimed and opened up on his floor.

The moment the keycard clicked and the door to his room locked behind you, all the exhaustion from the past days of training and matches seemed to melt away, replaced by an urgent affection and an even needier hug. Michael backed you against the wall, resting his forehead against yours.

“Finally,” he breathed out, his hand sliding up your cheek to thread his fingers through your hair.

“I need to shower, Mickey,” you whispered, smiling as his lips brushed against your jawline.

“I think you meant we,” he murmured against your skin, peppering soft, needy kisses along your neck until a shudder ran down your spine.

You shook your head with a small smile as Michael followed you to the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe as you turned on the hot water, steam quickly filled the small room, the cold tiles dripping with condensation. His eyes traced every curve of your figure as you stripped off your clothes and stepped under the steaming spray.

In no time at all, you felt his strong arms wrapping firmly around your middle, his hard chest pressing warmly against the curve of your back as the hot water cascaded over both of your skin.

“What time do I have to leave tomorrow?” you asked, tilting your head back against his shoulder. “Do you still have training in the morning?”

“Nah,” Michael murmured into your wet hair. “But I think you should leave before seven. Kylian wakes up early and might see you around.”

You groaned softly, turning around in his arms to face him under the spray. “Why can’t you just tell them? They are your friends.”

“I don’t want them talking about you. Not yet.” His gaze softened, cupping your wet face with both hands, his thumbs gently tracing your cheekbones. “Let me enjoy you all to myself a little longer.”

Out of the steamed bathroom, the hotel room seemed to be held beyond time as you both finished showering around midnight. The bustling streets of the city below had finally fallen silent, and the low hum of voices through the hotel walls had died down as the other players went to sleep.

“You smell so good.” Michael was attached to your back again the second you both flopped over the plush white mattress. His arms locked tightly around your waist, pulling you flush against him so there wasn't an inch of space left between your bodies.

“Oh my God, you’re insatiable,” you giggled, adjusting the heavy duvet over the two of you, but he wouldn't let go even for a second.

“Can you blame me?” He mumbled, burying his face into the back of your neck and taking a deep breath. His lips found the side of your neck, sucking it lightly at first, then growing to a feverishly bruising kiss.

Michael’s hands were restless under the heavy duvet, his touch slid up from your waist, tracing the soft skin of your ribs before pulling you flush against his chest. Any lingering tiredness from ninety minutes on the pitch had completely vanished, replaced by a heavy desire that only ever came out when the two of you were behind locked doors.

“Michael...” you moaned softly as his lips brushed against the sensitive spot right under your jaw, biting down enough to draw a quiet gasp from your throat.

“I told you,” he rasped against your skin, his voice thick and dangerously low, “I’m not done with you yet.”

He rolled you onto your back, hovering over you in the dim light of the room. His eyes were dark, far from his usual shy reserve. In one swift motion, he stripped away the remaining barrier of clothes, fingers working with a needy urgency as he parted your thighs and aligned his tip with your damp entrance.

The slide was slow, agonizingly deep, making you arch your back into the mattress with a soft moan that he quickly drank up in a bruising kiss. His hands tangled tightly into your wet hair, holding you in place as he set a relentless rhythm. Every thrust was deep, heavy and completely possessive, making the bed frame shift slightly with a low rhythm against the carpeted floor.

“Look at me,” Michael growled softly, breaking the kiss just enough to stare down into your eyes, his chest heaving, sweat glistening on his skin under the faint light from the lamp on the nightstand. “Tell me who you belong to, baby.”

“You,” you panted, your fingers digging into his broad shoulders as the tension tightened in your lower stomach, bringing you dangerously close to the climax. “Only you, Mikey—”

Michael let out a low growl of satisfaction, feeling his hard length scrape every corner of your walls, hips driving harder as he chased his own release right alongside yours. He lifted his torso from yours, pulling your hips even closer to him as his rough palm slid from your breasts to your neck, slightly choking you, just enough to see some stars.

You were both breathless, completely lost in the heat, your walls tightening around him as your neck tingled in a numbing feeling. When suddenly the electronic chime of the room’s keycard reader cut through the heavy air.

Before either of you could even register the clicking sound of the lock, the heavy door swung wide open.

“Yo, Mike! You got an extra charger? I think I left mine on the airport and the lobby didn’t have one—”

At the gap of the entryway, Koundé froze on the spot to the shocking view of a sweat slicked Michael completely rigid on top of you, fingers around your neck and your legs still wrapped loosely around his waist under the duvet that barely covered your hips.

A suffocating silence fell over the room. Jules’ eyes went wide as he looked at Michael, then at you, then back at Michael, who gripped the sheets under his other palm with unbelievable force.

“...Oh,” Jules squeaked out, his voice dropping an octave as his brain finally caught up. “Wow. Okay.”

Michael looked as though he had been hit by a car that came out of nowhere. In a fraction of a second, the dominant lover vanished completely, replaced by a mortified boy that felt the heat take over his entire face.

“Jules! What the fuck!” Michael yelled, his voice cracking slightly as he scrambled violently backward, yanking the duvet up to cover your chest and burying his own burning face straight into the pillows.

“I’m sorry! I’m leaving!” Jules raised his hands in utter defense, muffling a laugh and backing out of the room so fast he nearly tripped over his shoes. “If I knew you were so busy I wouldn’t have come. You said you were going to sleep, dude.”

“Get out! Now!” Michael muffled into the mattress, not wanting to face either of you right now.

“Jesus, forget I was even here. Gonna hang the ‘don’t disturb’ card at your door for tomorrow.” Jules practically slammed the door shut with a final chuckle before the lock clicked back into place.

Silence returned to the bedroom, save for his heavy muffled breathing. You lay beneath the covers, heart still hammering at a million miles an hour from both the interrupted climax and the whole absurdity of the moment. You faced him slowly as he shifted on his back and covered his face with his toned arms with a grunt.

“Mikey?” you whispered, trying desperately to hold back a burst of hysterical laughter.

Michael’s face was still completely covered by a dark red, clear down to his neck, his eyes wide with pure disbelief as he lowered his arms. “Fucking hell. What’s wrong with these people?”

You finally broke, letting out a loud laugh and burying your face in his chest. “He’s gonna tell everyone, isn’t he?”

“He’s gonna torment me until the next Euros.” Michael groaned loudly, turning to his side to hide his face on the crook of your neck, but taking a quick moment to let his eyes trace the curve of it. “And don’t laugh too hard. Now I’m making everyone see that hickey on your neck tomorrow. Purple looks good on you too, babe.”

“I love you! I have never loved anyone more than you, dear!” “Oh, I wish we could be together, baby... but I’m already engaged!”

You sighed. The cheesy romance movie playing on the TV and the bottle of wine that you’d already chugged wasn’t doing a single thing to help fight the absolute cringe shit-show unfolding in front of you.

A jagged streak of lightning flashed outside the window, followed by a rumble of thunder that seemed to mock your exact mood. The wind howled hard enough to make the whole building subtlly sway, making you feel for a second like the entire tower might just tip over into the storm.

It was past midnight on a miserable Tuesday, and instead of sharing this dreary evening with someone, you were sprawled across your sofa, swirling the last lukewarm drop of red wine in your glass. Moving to New York a few months ago was supposed to be this exciting, fresh chapter, but right now, in the quiet of your apartment, the city just felt massive and lonely.

The weather was relentless. Torrential rain lashed violently against the balcony glass, whipped around by gusts of wind that rattled the frame. You yanked your fleece blanket all the way up under your chin and set the empty glass down on the side table. On screen, the dramatic couple was finally locking lips.

Your tipsy mind slowly drifted back to earlier that evening, specifically, nine o'clock in the lobby. You had been coming back from the corner bodega, when the heavy front door was held open for you.

“Let me grab that for you,” the familiar voice murmured.

You looked up, your heart doing a predictable little jump.

It was indeed him. Djed. The quiet, ridiculously attractive neighbor from two doors down. As usual, he was wearing an oversized dark hooded jacket, smelling like a dizzying mix of fresh cotton and woodsy cologne. Even with the persistent dark circles under his eyes, looking somehow even more exhausted than usual, his soft-spoken greeting had made your stomach do an embarrassing little flip.

He was already reaching out his hand for your single plastic grocery bag. It weighed practically nothing, literally just a carton of eggs, a box of pasta, and a bottle of wine, but you had handed it over without a second thought.

Anything to buy two extra minutes of his company in the creaky elevator. You remembered watching his broad shoulders under that jacket as he held the bag, listening to his chuckle when you made some stupid joke about the windy weather.

And then what did he do?

After he walked you to your door and handed over your eggs, he wished you a sweet good night, turned right around, and headed back down the hallway toward the stairs, slipping out into the windy street at ten p.m. without even pulling his hood up. No taxi waiting, no umbrella as a precaution, just walking out into the night like he had somewhere urgent to be.

You took a slow sip of your wine and groaned, staring up at the ceiling fan.

“Girl, stop,” you muttered to the empty room, thoroughly annoyed with yourself. “Seriously, get a grip.”

You’d been living here for months. You two exchanged polite smiles, held doors, made small talk in the hallway. If the guy two doors down was interested, he would have made a move by now. He was just being nice. A polite neighbor with a weird sleep schedule and terrible timing, nothing more.

Deciding to flush the thought of Djed straight down the drain, you reached for the remote to turn off the TV and finally head to bed.

THUD.

You froze. The remote hovered an inch above the cushion.

It wasn't thunder this time.

You knew you were tipsy, but you weren't that tipsy. It was a heavy wet impact right against the exterior glass of your balcony door, followed by the harsh scraping sound of something heavy sliding down the frame.

Your heart slammed against your ribs. Every drop of wine-induced relaxation instantly evaporated, replaced by cold panic. You even pinched yourself just to check if you had actually fallen asleep on your couch and were just stuck in some vivid dream.

What the hell was that? You were six floors up.

Breathing shallowly, you pulled the blanket up to your nose, eyes wide and fixed on the sheer curtains blocking the balcony. Another flash of lightning illuminated the glass, and through the fabric, you saw the undeniable, dark silhouette of a body slumped against the floor of your balcony.

Adrenaline spiked through your veins. Your hands started trembling as you fumbled on the couch cushions for your phone, mind racing through every worst-case scenario. Was it a burglar? A jumper? An intruder trying to break in through the glass?

Your instinct for self-preservation kicked in before your brain could even process what was happening.

You scrambled off the couch and grabbed the empty wine bottle from the coffee table bit its neck, holding it like a club. You held your breath as you crept toward the balcony door, the short distance suddenly feeling like scene straight out of a horror movie. Every muscle in your body was coiled tight.

It’s six stories up, you reminded yourself frantically. No normal person can climb six stories in a rainstorm.

Another flash of lightning lit up the balcony illuminating the figure through the sheer curtains. Indeed the horror movie, you thought. He was curled on his side, one arm clutching his ribs, his head resting against the wet concrete.

And then you saw the red suit.

Even soaked in rain and smeared with dark grime, the unmistakable red and blue pattern stood out against the dark tiles. The eye lenses on the mask flickered in the dark as he struggled to lift his head.

Your jaw dropped. The wine bottle lowered an inch, but not entirely.

Spider-Man?

The city’s literal superhero was slumped on your balcony, looking less like a savior and more like a dying stray cat.

You stared in utter disbelief. Of course you’d seen him on the news, on TikTok clips swinging past Times Square, on front-page headlines… but seeing the actual guy, in the flesh, shivering onto your cheap outdoor mat was completely surreal.

A harsh cough rasped through his suit’s mask. He pressed his gloved hand against the glass, his fingers slipping down the surface as he tried to drag himself up.

Your fear melted away immediately, replaced by a wave of frantic adrenaline. He wasn't an intruder. He was hurt.

Unlocking the balcony door, you pulled the sliding glass back. A burst of freezing wind and rain instantly hit your face, along with the unusual smell of wet leather.

“Hey! Hey, get inside-“

You dropped the wine bottle onto the rug, reaching out into the freezing rain to grab him under his arms. The suit was soaked, cold, and surprisingly heavy, but you hauled him across the threshold into your living room.

He didn't fight you, letting out a breathy gasp as he hit your fluffy carpet. Spider-Man. The city’s literal superhero, the guy painted on billboards, plastered all over the news, and praised on every social media feed in New York was currently lying sprawled out in your apartment. You stared down at him in utter disbelief, taking in the textured web patterns of his suit, the vibrant red and blue fabric completely out of place against your freshly bought cozy living room decor.

What were you even supposed to do right now? Call an ambulance? Call 911? Offer the guy a cup of chamomile tea?

“Sorry- sh-shit, I’m sorry,” his voice came out muffled through the suit’s fabric, thick with exhaustion and a staggering amount of embarrassment. “Did not... mean to crash... your apartment...”

“Just stay still,” you said frantically, quickly sliding the glass balcony door shut to block out the roaring storm.

You turned back to him. He was lying on his side on your rug, breathing heavily, his chest heaving under the wet suit. The eye lenses on his mask were looking around your living room like he was desperately searching for an escape route.

“Are you- are you hurt?” you stammered, hands trembling as you motioned toward his hands on the ribs.

“Just... ugh- winded,” he rasped out. “The wind gust hit me crazy hard when I was swinging... missed the jump to my balcony and... slammed straight into your glass frame like a bird. Ribs took the hit.”

Wait…

What?

You blinked.

His balcony?

Before you could even begin to process what he meant by that, he reached up with his trembling, gloved fingers to the back of his head. He tried to pull the damp fabric of the mask up over his chin, but the rain-soaked material was stuck tight against his skin, refusing to budge. A frustrated groan escaped his throat as his shoulders slumped in defeat.

Seeing him struggle, you just couldn’t sit aside. You had to know who was behind the mask. And again… what did he mean by “his balcony”?

You stepped forward and dropped to your knees beside him on the rug, sitting back on your heels. Up close, the heat radiating off his body cut straight through the chill of the storm outside.

“Here... let me help,” you whispered, your own voice barely louder than a breath.

Your heart was hammering so quickly you were sure he could hear it. Who was under here? The chaotically tipsy thoughts in your head were racing a mile a minute. Was he some secretive billionaire? A famous supermodel moonlighting as a vigilante? Some random kid from the city? No… his shoulders were way too broad and his frame was far too thick and muscular for him to be a teenager. But who? Was he actually about to just show you his face?

Your fingers shook as they brushed against the textured material at the base of his neck. Finding the edge of the fabric, you carefully hooked your thumbs under the rim and slowly, very gently began to peel the mask upward.

He stayed completely still under your hands, as if holding his breath (you were actually the one holding your breath), his hands resting heavily on his knees.

You slid the mask up past chin, over his full lips, and past the dark skin of his nose.

Even before the fabric fully cleared his eyes, your brain hit a sudden wall of recognition. That familiar dark skin… The neat goatee… The exact shape of those lips you’d secretly stared at in the elevator…

Your breath hitched, mind completely refusing to accept the reality unfolding under your fingertips.

You yanked the soaked red fabric off his head, tossing it onto the carpet. His dark locs, damp from rain and heat, spilled free, tumbling down to frame his neck and forehead.

He leaned his head back against your sofa, taking a deep, greedy gulp of room-temperature air.

Every drop of wine in your system instantly vanished, replaced by a shock so sharp it felt like a slap. The world seemed to stop spinning, narrowing down to the exact face looking back at you.

Sitting right in front of you, drenched in rain, and looking at you with wide, flustered eyes... was Djed.

Djed. The same Djed? The quiet, ridiculously hot neighbor from two doors down? The guy who carried your groceries three hours ago?

“Djed?!” The name burst out of you.

His expression was an unreadable, chaotic mess: a mix of deep embarrassment, his brain frantically calculating ways to disappear through the floorboards, and the lingering shock of taking a full-speed hit to your balcony glass.

He swallowed hard, his eyes darting to the side for a second before meeting yours, looking entirely mortified.

“I... uh...” Djed rasped, rubbing a hand down his face and groaning softly into his palm. “Honestly? I was really hoping you were asleep so I could just... lay on your balcony for a minute, catch my breath, and sneak back over to my place.”

You blinked at him in sheer absurdity. “Are you serious? It sounded like a missile hit my balcony, Djed! Even if I was knocked out cold, I would’ve woken up!”

A flustered chuckle escaped him as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked so thoroughly embarrassed, like a guy who knew he’d just ruined any chance of ever acting normal around you again.

“Yeah... fair point,” he muttered, his voice dropping an octave as he looked up at you through his lashes, completely at your mercy. “Look, I’m... fuck. I’m really sorry about this. I shouldn't have crashed into your space.”

“I mean you’ve already said it was an accident so it’s fine.” you chuckled. “You can crash into my space any time you need, neighbor.”

You emphasized the last word, and a genuine laugh pulled at his lips, taking the edge off his embarrassment.

“Appreciate it,” he rasped, shaking his head at himself with a sheepish grin. “Though... you’d think Spider-Man himself would have better skills with his webs.”

“I’m just saying, the glass door won that round,” you teased, leaning forward slightly. “Honestly, though... how do those things even work? Is it coming out of your skin, or is it tech?”

Djed raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint entering his eyes despite his exhaustion.

“It’s all me. Comes straight out of my wrist,” he murmured, a low smirk pulled at his lips. “What, are you questioning my technique and my biology now?”

“I’m just curious!” you laughed softly.

“Wanna see?”

Without waiting for an answer, he flexed his fingers, clicking his middle two fingers sharply into his palm.

A thin, silk-white strand shot straight from his wrist, sticking instantly to the empty wine glass on your coffee table. With a quick, casual flick of his arm, Djed yanked the web back, snapping the glass effortlessly right into his palm.

You gasped. “No way! That’s actually cool.”

“See? Still got it,” Djed smirked softly, raising an eyebrow, and set the glass down. “Or are you still questioning my technique?”

“No-no, absolutely not! You’re amazing!” you laughed softly, holding your hands up in surrender.

The playful back-and-forth instantly broke the heavy tension, dissolving the lingering shock between you. The awkwardness melted away into something surprisingly warm and comfortable: it seemed like every Tuesday night Spider-Man was casually shooting webs off your living room furniture.

He uncurled his long legs, placing a hand on the floor to push himself up to his feet. “Alright. Point taken, though. I should probably head out and let you get back to your night before I destroy any more of your balcony-“

The second he stood straight up, his breath hitched. He winced, a sharp groan cutting through his throat as his hand slammed instinctively against his left ribs. His body stiffened, bent slightly sideways as his balance wobbled.

“Whoa, hey!” You rushed forward without thinking, catching him by his forearm to steady him. Up close, you could hear how ragged his breathing had suddenly gotten.

“Fuck,” Djed gritted out through his teeth, closing his eyes as he waited for the sharp spasm in his side to pass. “That... definitely pinched a bit.”

“You are not going anywhere,” you declared, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Sit back down. Let me check it out.”

Djed looked down at you, flustered all over again by your sudden proximity, but too sore to put up a fight. “I’m kind of... stuck in the suit,” he admitted quietly. “The rain shrank the material tight against my back so I can’t really pull it off on my own with my shoulder locked up.”

“I’ll help,” you said immediately.

The words left your mouth before your brain could catch up. And only after saying it did the full weight of the situation crash over you. You were going to have to peel that damp, skin-tight suit right off his bare skin.

You swallowed heavily, your pulse taking a sudden leap as you guided him toward the edge of your couch. “Just... sit.”

The air in the room felt heavy with the lingering scent of the wine you’d been drinking before he hit your window. You suddenly felt a flash of self-consciousness, hoping he wouldn't think you were just some sloppy mess who couldn't handle her Tuesday night. Outside, the storm was raging harder than ever: a brutal mix of howling wind and heavy rain that had forced the entire city to lock itself indoors tonight.

Djed didn't argue. Even though you could tell he was mortified by the whole ordeal, it seemed to you that the pain in his side left him with zero choice. He let out a low breath, lowering his frame onto the edge of the couch. His knees were spread slightly, his forearms resting on his thighs as he stared down at the carpet, his chest still rising and falling in heavy breaths.

You climed onto the couch behind him and sank onto your knees on the cushions, taking a silent gulp of air to steady your trembling hands.

The heat coming off him was intense: warmth radiated around him and cut straight through the chill of the apartment. He smelled like cold rain, leather, and that deep, woodsy cologne you always caught a hint of whenever you passed him in the hallway.

Just act normal, you told yourself.

He’s hurt.

You’re just helping your neighbor.

Your extremely hot, ridiculously handsome neighbor who is about to be half-naked on your sofa.

“Okay,” you murmured to yourself, your voice coming out slightly breathier than you intended. “Where’s the zipper?”

“Base of the neck,” Djed rasped. He tilted his head forward, exposing the back of his neck and as his damp locs tumbled over his shoulders to the side. “There’s a small metallic seam... should slide straight down.”

Your fingers brushed against his nape, and Djed instantly went rigid. A tiny shudder ran down his shoulders at the touch of your cool fingertips against his burning skin.

“Sorry- hands cold?” you asked quickly, your face flushing hot.

“No. No, you’re good,” he muttered into his chest, letting out a subtle cough to cover up the raspy edge in his voice. “Just... sensitivity. The suit’s like a second skin.”

A second skin. The mental image made your stomach do a dizzying flip.

You found the small metallic tab hidden under the collar. Hooking your thumb into it, you slowly dragged it down.

The sound was agonizingly loud in the quiet room. As the zipper slid down his spine, the tight fabric parted, revealing the smooth dark skin of his broad back. You stared at the deep cut of his spine, the flex of his muscles every time he breathed, and the faint sheen of rain and sweat lingering on his skin.

A sudden urge hit you to just rest your palm flat against his shoulder blades, to trace the warm line of his muscles and see if he’d shiver under your touch again.

But you forced your hands to stay steady, swallowing hard as you genuinely wondered if he could feel your frantic breathing against his bare skin.

From the outside, Djed looked completely unfazed, sitting motionless, staring straight ahead at your dark TV screen as if he were just waiting out a dull doctor's appointment. But his hands remained clamped tightly over his knees, his knuckles tensed as he held himself rigid.

“Okay... top half is unzipped,” you whispered, leaning in just a fraction closer to help him peel the damp sleeves down his shoulders.

The movement brought your face right beside his ear. Being so close to him made the feeling of intense heat coming off his skin almost overwhelming, a flush deepening the tone around his neck and jawline.

“Gotta... peel the arms out,” Djed muttered. He carefully shrugged his left shoulder forward. “Can you grab the sleeve?”

“Yeah. Yeah, got it.”

You reached over his shoulder, your forearm brushing against his bare chest as you grabbed the wet suit material.

You could feel him looking at your face, his eyes scanning yours, but you avoided eye contact at all costs. You wouldn’t be able to handle it right now.

With his arms finally pulled free of the sleeves, the heavy top half of the suit pooled around his waist, leaving his chest, shoulders, and back completely bare.

You swallowed hard, thoughts chaotic and racing in your head as you tried to keep your focus strictly professional. The fabric slumped forward, and you saw it — the landscape of damage. A bruise blooming purple-black across his left ribs.

You probably should be getting ice, bandages, something. Instead, your palm flattened against his body.

“Can I...?” you asked softly.

Djed gave a slight nod, his jaw clenched as he stared straight ahead.

Very gently, you pressed your fingertips against the bruised skin. His skin felt impossibly smooth and soft under your hands — warm and dark, taut over carved muscle. You lightly traced your fingers along his ribs, trying to gauge the swollen area. You dragged through it slowly, feeling the involuntary flex under your touch.

But as your hand drifted a little lower, your fingers tracing a delicate, feather-light touch so you wouldn't embarrass him even further, Djed instantly flinched, a ragged breath catching in his throat. You looked at him with a sudden spike of worry.

Surprisingly, he wasn't looking at you at all. In fact, he had turned his head completely in the opposite direction, hiding his profile so you couldn't read his face. Was he really that embarrassed to admit he was in pain?

You could feel the rigid tension in his abdominal muscles as you slowly dragged your hand back up his side. But underneath your palm, something else caught your attention: his heart was hammering against his ribcage at a frantic, breakneck speed.

“Djed, your heart rate is crazy high,” you said, your brow furrowing with genuine concern as your hand lingered against his chest. “And you’re still flinching. Are you sure nothing's broken? We might actually need to get you to a hospital…”

“No, no hospital,” Djed turned his head quickly. “I promise... the ribs are fine. It’s already… feeling better. Perks of the spider bite. Accelerated healing and stuff.”

You blinked, looking from his face down to the bruise. “Wait... really?”

“Yeah,” he muttered, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Honestly, the worst of it was the wet suit. The rain shrank the material so tight against my chest it was basically suffocating me. That’s why I was panicking... couldn't get a full breath in.”

“Oh,” you breathed, relief washing through you. You relaxed your posture, though your palm was still resting flat against his bare skin. “Okay. Good. That’s... really good.”

Then you hesitated, thoughts jumping back to the feeling of the rapid rhythm of his pulse thudding under your fingers.

“But… if the suit’s off and your ribs are healing...” you murmured, looking up to meet his eyes, “...then why is your heart still beating out of your chest?”

Djed went completely quiet.

The silence between you stretched, heavy and thick with the rain storming outside. Slowly, his eyes shifted down to your lips, then back up to your eyes, stripped entirely of his usual guarded cool-guy facade. A smirk began to spread across his face, his dark eyes sparkling with a teasing look that practically screamed: Are you seriously this dense?

Your body seemed to realize it before your brain did. A wave of intense heat rushed to your cheeks with an overwhelming speed.

Oh.

Seeing your face and the wide-eyed shock in your expression only made Djed’s smirk widen.

He didn't pull away from your hand. Instead, his fingers came up and gently wrapped around your wrist: not to push your hand off his chest, but to hold it there, right over his pounding heart.

“Well,” Djed muttered, a raspy whisper sent a shiver straight down your spine. “Part of it’s the adrenaline from almost smashing my head open...”

He seemed to stretch the words out on purpose, deliberately drawing out what you’d already pieced together, stretching the tension thin, as if teasingly delaying the very moment you both were dying to crash into.

He paused, his thumb lightly tracing the delicate skin of your inner wrist, his breath fanning hot against your face as he leaned in just an inch closer.

You completely forgot how to breathe.

“...but mostly? It’s because you’re touching me right now.”

Only now, with your faces mere inches apart, did you realize just how intoxicatingly close you’d gotten to him. Somehow, without you even noticing, you’d shifted from kneeling safely behind his back to practically sitting in his lap — that was how seamlessly the distance had closed.

Your mind completely short-circuited. Under normal circumstances, if you weren't currently tipsy and hopelessly attracted to him, you would never in a million years be sitting here, tracing his bare chest with the unbothered confidence of a medical professional. What were you even doing right now?

Part of you wanted to panic or play it off, but the unfiltered heat in his gaze had you completely rooted to the spot.

Every single excuse and attempt at playing it cool disintegrated into thin air. His eyes flicked down to your mouth one last time, and a second later, his hand slid up from your wrist to cup the back of your neck, his fingers tangling deep in your hair as his lips finally covered yours.

Your eyes fluttered shut with a soft, helpless gasp against his mouth. The sudden warmth of his lips made your entire body melt, your hands instinctively tightening their grip on his bare shoulders as you leaned fully into him, kissing him back.

Any hesitation he’d had seconds ago was finally wiped out.

The kiss quickly became messy, chaotic — an uninhibited collision unlike anything you’d ever experienced in your life, overflowing with raw need, pure desire, and a starving kind of hunger.

The utter desperation with which his hands wrapped around your body, hoisting you right up into his lap, knocked the remaining air straight out of your lungs. You found yourself straddling his thighs, the searing heat of his skin burning straight through the thin fabric of your clothes.

You gasped against his mouth, and Djed immediately took advantage of it, his tongue sliding deep inside, tasting you, tasting the faint lingering sweetness of the wine on your breath. A dizzying moan escaped you as your hands slammed onto his bare shoulders, gripping him tight to pull him even closer.

He was so big, so intoxicatingly hot against you. His hands moved over you frantically, sliding up the curves of your hips, gripping your waist, and pulling your lower body flush against his.

Boldness took over, and your hands slid down from his shoulders, trailing over the defined ridges of his abs. You let your fingers wander lower, teasingly tracing the line where his smooth skin met the fabric of his suit at the bottom of his stomach. A strangled groan broke from the back of Djed’s throat, vibrating straight against your lips — a sound so raw it made your core clench with a sudden ache.

Hearing that sound come out of him only made you bolder. You dragged your fingertips across his lower abdomen again, pressing deliberately into the firm muscle, testing how much control you had over him.

“You like that?” you murmured against his mouth, your voice breathless and laced with a confident tease.

Djed’s response was a needy drag of his teeth against your lower lip, his fingers digging tight into your waist as if he were trying to pull you straight through his skin.

The kiss deepened, becoming harder and more urgent as your mouths worked together in a rhythm that left both of you breathless, your senses completely overwhelmed by the taste of him and the sound of his ragged breathing.

Before you could even process the sudden rush of movement, Djed shifted, effortlessly tipping you backward, pressing you horizontally into the soft cushions of the sofa. His chest pressed flush against yours, trapping you completely between his warmth and the couch. His body settlled over yours with a weight that should have been suffocating but wasn’t. It felt like being anchored.

“Fuck...” Djed gritted out, breaking the kiss for a split second just to drag his lips down your jawline, his hot breath searing against your neck. “I’ve been... losing my mind over you for months.”

His teeth gently nipped at the sensitive skin right under your ear, making your back arch with a breathless gasp. His mouth moved down to pull the soft flesh of your throat, sucking slightly. His hand tightened in your hair, tilting your head to give him better access, while his other arm wrapped firmly around your waist.

With his weight hovering over you, you could feel the rock-hard ridge of his erection straining against the bunched-up fabric of his suit pants. It was pressing directly against the center of your hips.

Unable to resist, your hand slid down between your bodies, your fingers wrapping around his heavy length through the material. Djed’s hips bucked instinctively into your palm, a broken groan vibrating through his chest at the direct contact.

He paused, his breathing a total mess as his eyes flicked up to meet yours — completely consumed by desire, yet holding that vulnerable intensity underneath.

“You have no idea...” he rasped, his thumb lightly tracing the side of your waist as he pressed his hips down against yours, “...how many times I stood next to you in the elevalor just wishing I had the nerve to say something more than how the weather is today.”

You giggled, your thumb stroking slowly along the hard ridge under your palm.

“You could’ve just asked me out,” you whispered, leaning up to brush your lips against his jaw. “Saved us both a lot of waiting.”

Djed chuckled. “I’m making up for lost time right now.”

Your hands slid down his bare back as you pulled him back to you. His tongue swept past your lips again, and you sucked on it, hard, and the sound he made was half growl, half whimper.

This was what you’d wanted. Months of hallway encounters, of watching his hands when he carried groceries, those long fingers wrapping around paper bags with a grip that looked like it could crush but never did. Months of wondering what he looked like under the quiet demeanor he wore like a second skin.

Now his hips rolled against yours and there was nothing quiet about the thick ridge straining through his suit.

“You feel that?” He didn’t wait for an answer. Another roll followed, but this time it was slower, grinding. “That’s what you do to me. Every time I see you.”

He set a slow and punishing rhythm, his hips rolling over steadily, dragging his hardness straight against the sweet spot between your thighs. Every roll sent a fresh shockwave of heat straight through your body, the friction pressing you flat into the couch until you were squirming helplessly beneath him.

Your head fell back as you closed your eyes for a second. Your throat exposed itself even further and now you could feel the bruised pressure blooming over your skin. Meanwhile his mouth dropped to the collarbone: a wicked mix of teeth scraping and tongue soothing that sent another wave of heat to your pussy.

As he worked over you, his palm traced soothing circles over your waist, smoothing down the curve of your hip before his fingers dug lightly into the outer flesh of your thigh. Slowly, his hand slipped inward, his knuckles brushing over the skin of your inner thighs.

You were ridiculously sensitive there, and the feather-light drag of his fingers sent an electric shiver through your entire frame. In that exact second, the teasing arousal you’d been holding onto completely dissolved, morphing into an actual desperate ache in your soaked pussy. You could literally feel the heat building between your legs, the wetness and the way your underwear slowly started soaking through as your body readied itself for him.

You pulled his face back to yours, kissing him again but this time deeper, messier. A chaotic mess of tongues and teeth and the salty taste of his skin when you bit his lower lip and dragged your teeth back over it.

“Fuck,” he hissed.

The room filled with the wet sounds of your kiss, his low groans, and the quiet whimpers escaping your throat every time his hips rolled against yours. It felt like neither of you wanted to break the heated make-out, but the wet clothes and lingering fabric were rapidly becoming unbearable.

His hands slid down from your waist, gripping the elastic of your pants and underwear together. With one smooth tug, he dragged them down past your hips and over your knees. You kicked them free, your skin cold for only a fraction of a second before the intense heat of his body filled the space between your legs again.

Djed paused on his knees, his eyes trailing down your exposed body.

“So wet already. Is that all for me?” It was almost reverent, and the hunger underneath made your inner walls clench around nothing.

“Yes.” Your voice cracked on the syllable. “Fuck, Djed, yes.”

He lowered himself slowly, the broad spread of his shoulders parting your knees as he settled firmly between your thighs. His large frame blocked out the rest of the living room, hovering over you until his face was just inches from where you needed him most. His breath hit your swollen folds, making your pussy flutter in anticipation. As he paused to look up at you, his thumb smoothed over the hyper-sensitive skin on the inside of your thigh, tracing a slow, grounding circle that kept you pinned right where he wanted you.

“I’ve thought about this.” His tongue darted out, wetting his bottom lip. “Thought about having my face right here...”

“Then do it.” You panted. Your hips squirmed against his grip. “Stop fucking teasing me, Djed.”

His eyes locked onto yours for a fraction of a second before he leaned down and buried his face straight between your legs.

The first stroke of his tongue was flat and slow and so fucking precise you nearly screamed. He didn’t lap at you like he was testing, he licked like he already knew your body, like he’d mapped this moment in his head a hundred times and was just executing the plan. His locks spilled over your thighs, heavy and cool against your heated skin, swaying with every motion of his head. His tongue curled around the swollen nub, flicked once, then dragged down through your folds to spear inside you.

You moaned his name as your hips bucked up off the sofa instinctively. Djed’s hands came up immediately, pinning your thighs down, holding you completely steady while his mouth worked over you.

“Oh my god.” You panted. “Your fucking mouth.”

You could feel him smirk against you, the hot puff of air escaping his nose and fanning over your wet folds.

He hummed in approval, the deep vibration rattling through your clit and up your spine, and your back arched off the mattress without permission.

The contrast was dizzying. The quiet neighbor who usually barely said a word in the hallway was eating you out with a desperation you thought you could only dream of. His starved rhythm, and every low groan he let out vibrated straight through your core, the hot wetness of his mouth driving you toward the edge before you’d even had time to adjust.

Djed ate pussy like it was the only meal he’d ever wanted. His lips sealed around your clit and sucked in rhythmic pulses while his tongue swirled, and when your thighs started to shake he just pressed more weight down, kept you spread, kept you helpless. His jaw worked steadily, relentlessly, and the wet sounds of his mouth fucking you filled the room obscenely. You came to the sudden conclusion that you had never been eaten out like this in your entire life. Every movement sent a jolt through your system that wrenched a gasp from your lips. Djed didn't pause. His tongue parted your labia with a deliberate sweep, gathering the slick that coated your inner lips, making sounds that were already giving you dark ideas for the next time.

“That's it,“ you breathed. “Right there. Rightfuckingthere-“

He licked deeper, tongue plunging into your entrance, lapping at the slick walls that gripped and fluttered, then dragging up to your clit again in one long, unbroken stroke. Your thighs clamped around his head, but he didn't stop, didn't even slow down, your praise and sounds only seemed to make him more eager. His mouth sealed around your clit, sucking until the pressure became so intense, so hyper-focused, that your vision whited out at the edges.

Sprawled flat across your own sofa while your impossibly hot neighbor literally ate you out between your thighs — this was definitely not how you’d imagined your evening ending.

“Please.” You didn’t even know what you were begging for anymore. More, less, deeper... you just needed this to never stop. You needed him.

Djed pulled back just long enough to speak. His lips glistened with your slick. “Please what?”

“I need-“ Your brain short-circuited when his tongue found your entrance again and pushed inside, curling upward, searching. “Fuck. I need you to tie me up.”

Djed’s mouth stilled. His eyes lifted to yours, dark and unreadable.

“Tie you up?”

“Your webs.” The words tumbled out — a shameless craving you would never have possessed the nerve to voice in any other scenario, but the madness of the night and a bottle of wine had untied your tongue completely. “You can do that, right? I’ve seen you shoot it... I want it. I want you to bind my wrists so I can’t move, and then I want you to keep fucking eating my cunt before you fuck me until I come all over your dick.”

Djed’s eyes blazed with that quiet fire. The dark intensity behind his gaze deepened, but he didn't ask a single question more.

His hands moved with deliberate purpose, sliding up to grasp the hem of your shirt. In one fluid motion, he pulled it over your head, tossing both it and your bra aside until you were stripped completely bare beneath him.

He took your hands, raising them above your head and pressing your wrists together. You watched his arm, the way it flexed back, his fingers curling toward his palm in a gesture that looked practiced, strange, and impossibly hot all at once.

A silk-white band of organic webbing shot from him, wrapping tightly around your wrists and binding them securely together. It gleamed in silver-white, and impossibly soft where it draped over your skin. The consistency was strange: not sticky like glue, it had a tensile, almost organic give, adhering to your skin without pulling. The web bound your wrists with elastic patience; when you tested the restraint, the strands stretched slightly, but did not snap. When you relaxed, it held tight, entirely unbreakable.

Your pulse thudded in your throat and your cunt clenched as you realized you were completely pinned, entirely at his mercy.

Djed looked down at your bound wrists, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Like that?”

“Yes,” you breathed.

Djed didn't keep you waiting. He reached down, dragging the damp suit pants off his hips. Then, the briefs slid down his thighs until his rock-hard length sprang free toward his belly. The sight alone made the air leave your lungs. It was long, curved slightly upward. The head was a swollen, dusky plum that glistening with a bead of moisture at the tip. Thick veins ridged the dark length in branching relief, pulsing faintly in rhythm with his rapid heartbeat.

He groaned at the new sensations of cool air. A raw sound, scraped from somewhere deep.

You looked up at him, and a sharp pang of regret suddenly hit you for asking him to tie your hands so soon. His length looked so agonizingly hot, so inviting, that your mouth literally watered at the mere thought of taking him between your lips.

You could already picture it: feeling the dick swell even further under your hands, the head darkening as blood surged to the tip. You craved tracing your thumb over the flared ridge, circling the sensitive underside where his frenulum sat, watching his entire body react, his abs snapping tight, his hips bucking up off the mattress as you swallowed him whole.

“Fuck-“ you groaned just at the thought of it, your eyes drinking in his broad physique from below.

He was truly breathtaking. Dark locks spilled over his shoulders as he finished stripping off the last scraps of his suit. His chest heaved with every intake of air, and you noticed the nasty bruise over his ribs had already faded into a faint shadow just a few centimeters wide — a silent reminder of the superhuman hovering right over you.

Djed settled back down between your knees, the heavy heat of his body anchoring you to the couch.

He positioned himself between your legs and guided his head to your drenched entrance. He looked up, holding your gaze with a raw focus that made you catch your breath as he began to push inside. The first nudge of his cockhead against your entrance was barely pressure — just the suggestion of entry. Your pussy, swollen and slick, gripped at the crown, your outer lips parting to welcome him while the inner ones stretched in a slow drag.

He pressed in an inch and stopped.

The sound you made was not dignified. You were so ridiculously turned on, so desperate to feel the full weight of him inside you, and the constant reminder of your bound wrists only added fuel to the fire in your mind.

He stayed still, watching your face intently, checking your reaction. You had to bite your lower lip hard to keep from begging him to hurry up, desperately holding it in. You knew if you started pleading with him right now, you’d be far too embarrassed to ever face him in the hallway again.

Another inch. The shaft found the channel of your cunt, the ridge of the head dragging against your anterior wall with a friction that lights up your nerves in cascading sparks. Your hands twitched, trying to reach for him, but the webs held firm. You were pinned. Open. Helpless in a way that made every single nerve ending scream with hyper-sensitivity.

He sank deeper, stretching you with every millimeter of that thick, veined shaft. He filled you up until your inner walls fluttered and clenched in involuntary pulses around him. Every ridge. Every vein. The slight upward curve of his length pressing deep inside you made your vision blur.

“Look at you,“ he breathed. “Taking all of it so well.“

His pubic bone pressed flush against your clit, and you let out a breathless, muffled cry, your bound hands pulling uselessly against the web constraints above your head.

Djed let out a raw, broken groan as his forehead dropped to rest against yours, his hips beginning to roll.

“You’re so perfect around me,” he gritted out through his teeth, his hands digging firm into your hips. “Fuck...”

A slow grind first, his pelvis rolling against yours, the wet sounds of your joining obscenely loud in the quiet.

The sight of his parted lips, the edge of his teeth, the way his breath caught every time he bottomed out inside you—it only made you wetter for him. His shaft glistened with your shared fluids every time he pulled back. The room filled with the soft slap of skin, the wet suck of your pussy gripping and releasing him, and the quiet praise falling from his mouth.

Your clit throbbed again. Every downstroke ground his weight directly into your core, building the pressure into something white-hot and inevitable. You looked down, watching his cock disappearing into you — the shaft veiny and slick, the dark plum of his head buried deep, your pussy lips stretched tight around him, drenched and clinging with desperate suction.

The dark hair at his base was wet with your slick, curling in dark whorls against your skin. As you watched, he pulled back — the shaft emerging glistening, coated in your fluids — then pushed all the way in again. The visual of that penetration, of your puffy, drenched folds gripping and releasing him, drew a low moan from somewhere deep in your chest.

“That's it,” his voice roughened, his eyes darkening as he caught you looking. “Keep watching.”

He built the rhythm with a patience that bordered on torture: a slow entry, a pause at the deepest point where his pelvis ground hard against your clit, then a withdrawal so gradual you felt every single centimeter sliding against your clutching walls. Your breasts swayed softly with the motion, the air cool against your skin. His hand came up to cup one breast, his thumb rasping over your tightened nipple — and that double impact of the fullness stretching you inside and the rough friction on your breast made your back arch straight off the cushions. He pinched the nipple lightly, rolling it between his fingers until a helpless whimper broke from your lips.

“More,” you gasped, squirming under his weight. “Djed, please-”

His hips rolled in a circle, grinding against your swollen clit, and the direct pressure there detonated mini-orgasms — not the full crash, but flaring pulses that made your cunt spasm around him and your thighs tremble.

He did it again. And again. Each rotation a slow, devastating grind that built the heat in your core to an unbearable level. You were babbling now — words that could be his name, could be curses, could be prayers. The webs at your wrists stretched with your struggling, the strands thinning but holding steady, and the slight bite of them against your skin only added another layer of sensation to the overwhelming whole.

His pace began to fray. The measured thrusts grew longer in stroke, his withdrawal pulling him nearly free of your entrance before the return plunge sank him all the way to the hilt in a single, fluid motion. The sound of it — the wet, sucking clench of your cunt, the slap of his hips against your thighs, the creak of the mattress — filled the room like music.

“I’m close,” you gasped out. Your thighs were quaking now, the rhythm breaking into something jagged and frantic. “Djed, I’m-”

Your words broke something in him. His hips snapped forward, the rhythm shifting from measured to desperate in the space of a heartbeat. The pounding intensified — his cock driving into you in long strokes that hit your cervix with an almost painful spark. Your bound wrists strained against the webs as the wet sounds of fucking grew louder, sloppier, your slick coating his shaft and dripping down onto the sofa beneath you.

Through the haze of pleasure, you noticed how intensely he was watching your face, his dark eyes searching yours as if trying to hold your gaze through the absolute chaos of it. But every time your eyes locked with his, he suddenly flicked his gaze away, a shy flush creeping up his neck despite the aggressive way he was working his hips into you.

His sudden endearing shyness mixed with the sounds coming out of him — guttural, broken, half your name and half something wordless — pushed you right over the cliff.

His thumb found your clit, pressing down in tight circles — and that was it.

Your orgasm detonated. It seized you in a full-body clench, rippling through your cunt in waves, each spasm milking his shaft as your back arched and your vision whited out. A breathless scream tore from your throat, echoing through the small apartment.

Your inner walls gripped him so tight he moaned. And then his own climax hit, his cock jerking inside you, pumping ropes of hot cum deep against your cervix, pulsing and pulsing again until he was completely empty and shuddering over you.

Finally, his strength gave out, and he literally collapsed onto your chest, burying his face into the crook of your neck. You could feel the frantic rise and fall of his chest against yours as he tried to catch his breath.

A few quiet minutes passed as the room settled. He remained joined with you, his weight heavy and comforting. You could feel his sperm pooling inside you, and that realization alone sent a familiar warmth spreading through your lower stomach.

Slowly, Djed lifted his head. His eyes were soft and full of that quiet affection as he reached up with one hand. With a quick touch of his fingers, the organic web binding your wrists dissolved, releasing its hold and falling away like harmless silk.

As soon as your hands were free, Djed buried his face right back into the crook of your neck. You wrapped your arms around him, your fingers tangling deep into his locks, holding him close.

His cock softened inside you, still twitching faintly, still leaking into your warmth while your cunt fluttered around him in fading aftershocks. He didn't pull out, and he didn't seem to want to.

He just lay there, connected, his heavy breathing slowly evening out to match the already steady rhythm of your heartbeat.

Somewhere outside the window, a distant siren cut through the night, echoing through the city streets. Djed didn't flinch. He didn't tense up or move an inch.

For tonight, the world outside could wait.

Right now, he was just yours.

-> reblog to support me, if you enjoyed reading this and please let me know your thoughts in the comments! ཐི❤︎ཋྀ

For Jules it was like love at first sight when his gaze first landed on you -your pretty self walking around Barcelona, sucking on a strawberry lollipop, skirt so short it made him scared for you that it would blow up, a generous cleavage that gave him a really good view.

He approached you because he knew he couldn't let you go, yeah, he was a bit taken aback when you first opened your mouth, but paid no mind to it, who cares if you are a bit dumb?

He certainly doesn't, apart from that, you are the full package for him, so fucking pretty, kind, actually cared about him -yeah, you like his money, but you also love the feeling of, his cock inside you and how he reassures you whenever you are feeling insecure about yourself.

He pays your manicures and any self care you want, he wants you to feel beautiful, special, he listens to you as you chant about whatever goes through that little head of yours, actually pays attention even if he doesn't understand anything -honestly, neither do you. He shows you up, feels good about himself when he sees the comments under your posts, all praising how fucking pretty you are, and protects you from whoever dares to attack you -only he, when he fucks you, can put tears on your eyes.

Jules loves you the most like this, bouncing up and down his cock, even if you are on top, he has the control -he always does. You are already dumb on top of him, moaning and whining, you look so pretty he wants to take a picture, another one for his favourite album.

The most precious thing he has-apart from you- is that album, full of photos and videos of your pretty self, dumb on him as you cum, sucking his cock, on a pretty set of lingerie, stripping down, on all fours showing yourself off to him, playing with yourself, sneaky photos under your skirt, down your cleavage, his cock down your throat, your face strained with his cum.

You would do just about anything for him, you were made for him of that he is sure, made to stand pretty next to him, maybe your conversations won't be the most intellectually fulfilling -but who cares?

fumes of filthy musk and heady leather, countless articles of clothing strewn about the place, the temperature unnatural for the amount of work the air conditioning was doing; that was the state of the hotel room where you had ended up with your boyfriend and, what can only be called, your newly-appointed lover. a night of stolen glances and sly touches led the three of you here, scheming whispers from your dark-painted lips into your boyfriend’s burning ears—hot from the pounding music and the ghosting softness of your mouth—spilling the desires that you’d tried so hard to keep to yourself for months on end now. at first, ronald believed it was the talk of the tequila causing you to say all this, for you to be so forward and shameless in what you’d let him and his teammate do to you could be nothing else but liquid courage, but a look into your eyes told a different story. they were clear and determined, not at all teary and pinkish around the edges like ronald had become accustomed to when you would go overboard with the alcohol. no, not like that at all. 

your boyfriend would be a fool to even act surprised at your feelings towards his french friend. compliments to, and away from, jules’ face got bolder and bolder as you spent more time with the team’s defender, and ronald didn’t miss the way your fingers would always find some way to land themselves on jules’ bicep. you made no effort to hide the way you enjoyed the bulging muscle under your tight grasp in front of either man and your man certainly made no effort to stop your actions, the heat under his collar and tightness of his trousers confirming his true feelings.

at the end-of-season party, you told your boyfriend of your master plan — how you intended your night to end with the company of two men in your bed, pulses set alit by previous activities and the question of how far the three of you could take this new relation a quietly thumping matter in the backdrop of it all. you would have ronald claim to be exhausted from the night’s shenanigans, fall prey to the jeers and jabs from the younger boys over how he can’t handle this much excitement and slip away to the hotel room the two of you had booked just in case. ronald doesn’t forget to take a swig of, what’s to him, liquid audacity to set him up for the night. from there, you’d stay, under the pretence that you wanted to hang with the girls a bit more, and work the same charm on the french boy, hushed promises of what the night could look like for him if he gave in to his yearnings spilling from your lips. tall tales from jules that he had to be home early in order to be on the first flight back to france to see friends the next morning plus a perfectly acted-out scene from you asking him to drop you off helped seal your exits, scrambling into jules’ car where you sit in the back seat, fearful of what accident you may cause if you were any closer to him.

the same rushed manner can’t help but be continued out of the car, into the hotel lift and past the door to your shared room, lips pressed hungrily against each other in such a blur that you had no recollection of where or when the two of you had begun to do so. urgent kisses turned to needy tugs of jules’ shirt and your black minidress as the commotion of your heels and jules’ heavy feet caused your boyfriend to appear from the ensuite.

“not starting without me, are you?”

*** 

you had no idea when the hour turned from eleven to three but there was no way you were ready to bid the night adieu. not when the pressing of the two cocks in front of and behind you electrified the very veins under your skin, the prickling anticipation nearly leaving you quivering on your hands and knees, despite having gone multiple rounds since the three of you bundled in on that bed.

“tired yet, baby?” in front of you, your boyfriend’s voice came hoarse but assured; a little taunt to it to test your daring. you shook your head in a determined fashion but the rapidness of it came across as the tiniest bit desperate, both men laughing in response at how far you could go without faltering.

behind you stood the object of your desires for the night, skin sweat-drenched and glowing under the warm lighting of the hotel room, chest still slightly heaving from all the action prior to this tiny break — if that was what you could call the intermission in which your boyfriend and his friend manhandled you into this position, ready for the taking by the both of them. 

a sudden small chorus of huffs started behind you, your ears pricking up as you diverted your eyes to where ronald towered above you, grinning ever so slightly at the scene behind you and directly in front of him. you didn’t need to look back to see what was going on, it was that obvious. jules, in perhaps an act of impatience or sheer lust from the sight of you below him, had a wrist wrapped around his hardened length, the push and pull of it up and down giving centre stage to the squelching noises left over from when he had his digits enveloped inside the wetness of you – when he was only allowed his digits inside of you. the sound of your juices on his cock and his small moans had you clenching around air, an involuntary–no, reflexive–wiggle of your ass letting the men know how you felt about it.

a comment from ronald telling jules that they’d better get on with it had you both wanting to scream ‘just do it already!’ and licking your swollen lips in anticipatory delight. no other words were exchanged before you felt the push of jules’ cock past your sopping folds, a guttural sound bubbling from your lungs at this new angle, one that felt infinitely deeper as he slid in, seeming so endless in length. the arching of your back mimicked the depth of his cock rocking in and out of you, a near-perfect u-shape for jules to run his hands over.

“good girl.” your boyfriend praised, a gentle rubbing of your cheek to complement. “so good for us, isn’t she, jules?”

your french lover failed to respond in any other way than groaning incoherently, the tightness of your pussy around him restricting his words all the same, trying to concentrate on setting a pace that allowed for your enjoyment and relied on him not getting too excited.

his uruguayan counterpart decided to step in, a tap of his dick on the same cheek he was so romantically caressing to signal ‘open.’ you obliged with the same energy; no words, just a loll of your tongue past your lips as an invitation for ronald to sink himself into your mouth and soothe the throbbing that was getting thunderous with yourself as aid.

to say you felt full was an understatement. it was in the bulge of your throat and your lower belly, the pressure from both ends so delicious it had you leaking with arousal around jules who had finally found a pace that suited all three of you, pounding relentlessly in and out of your wetness, grip on your hips only tightening with every movement so as not to slip out of you — especially with how rough your boyfriend was being tonight.

it wasn’t a rare sight for ronald to be this… hungry but you could tell it was something about the circumstances of tonight, the fact that he got to share you with someone else fueled his fire and led to his hips pistoning against the skin of your chin and nose, his cock gliding easily down the column of your throat due to how much you were salivating around it. once he relented in his rapidness, you took your time to give special attention to where he liked it the most; right at the tip, where it was red and agitated. you smoothed it over with your tongue, the drenched muscle working like a hypnotic thing, pulling wanton moans from your uruguayan lover, his head thrown back from the red-hot pleasure.

you loved this feeling of being stuffed, of having your every sense attacked and stimulated, and you were getting oh-so-close to cumming over jules’ cock, your voice getting slightly higher-pitched around ronald’s length to warn him of your impending climax. jules noticed it first, the way your pussy clenched around him like a firm fist being a dead giveaway and he took the chance to slither an arm around to your front, finger and thumb coming in to rub at your clit. the shocks you felt from it nearly had you shrieking.

a cacophony of moans,‘come on, baby, that’s it’s in a uruguayan accent, and groans rang in your ears before you saw stars — burning white and nearly blinding you. your orgasm hit you so head-on that there was no time to warn either of them, a lewd scream and snappy clenching of your walls pulling you all to the other side. jules managed to empty himself in the condom, still snug inside your warmth; ronald pumping his milky release just above the valley of your breasts. the feeling is filthy and you can’t help but giggle.

- Jules didn’t even bother spending any more time with the team as he was too livid. They had lost their game today because no one seemed to be getting their shit together and Jules would much rather go home than hear Coach ripping a new one into them.

- He doesn’t go back to his place though, he re-routes to yours once you call him to check in on him. Your sweet and soothing voice had him craving to be in your presence.

- It doesn’t take him long to park inside the garage of your building beside your car. You had reserved the spot for him once things became official.

- When he gets to your apartment and opens the door, the scents of white magnolia fill his nostrils and it makes him smile because he knows you’ve brought out the things that’ll help him relax.

- As he’s taking off his shoes and dropping his bag in the hallway, you appear.

- You’re not wearing any makeup, a black headband is keeping your braids away from your face. Dressed in a faded worn out t-shirt, falling off your shoulders, black biker shorts and pink fluffy socks.

- You lightly jog to him, wrap your arms around his neck and give him the softest kisses which lights his body on fire. It’s meant to be an innocent but feeling your body against his quickly ignites him and holds onto tighter as he pushes his tongue into your mouth.

- But you quickly pull away laughing and entangling your fingers together “Let me feed you first.”

- “I’d rather eat you up instead.”

- “Boy hush.” You roll your eyes playfully as you pull him further into the apartment.

- And you feed him a proper meal. You had made dinner earlier and had some left overs. After seeing the outcome of the match, you had rightly assumed Jules would come to you instead of being on his own.

- Once he was done, you take him to your bedroom and on your bedside table was a towel, body oils and a bottle of lube.

- “You’re not going to tie my hands this time?” He asks when he doesn’t see the bondage ties amongst the things.

- “I trust you to be good but don’t tempt me.” You kiss his jaw line and it sends shivers down his spine.

- When you tell him to take off his clothes, Jules doesn’t waste any time to strip to his bathing suite. You also take your top off but keep your biker shorts as Jules likes the way your breasts feel against his skin.

- He lays down on his stomach and you pour the body oil into his palms and rub them to warm it up. “Just relax for me baby.”

- And you spend the next 30 minutes massaging his body, kneading into his muscles and undoing his knots. A full body massage after a stressful game was what he needed.

- And it never failed in making him horny. He was hard.

- You turn him around and Jules takes a deep breath when he sees your plump breasts with your hardened nipples. His mouth salivates but he knows he can’t touch you now.

- You smirk down at his leaking tip but you don’t pay attention to it, in fact you sit on it, your hot pussy pulsating against the underside of him which causes him to curse and breath harshly.

- “Fuck!” He hisses as the sensation of the warmth of your pussy seeping through the fabric of your shorts had his body reeling.

- Jules had to endure 30 minutes of your soft fingers touching him and now, you were on top of him working on his neck and shoulders - your movements causing friction and his dick was twitching beneath you.

- The noises came when you began to play with his nipples. He was groaning, breathing heavy and squirming beneath your touch. It was getting you so wet.

- But you were not done with him. “You promise to be my good boy?”

- “Yes bebé.” He sighs. You then place his hands above his head and you turn back to the side table and take the lube into your hand.

- It’s cold against his skin but you quickly begin to work him over but at a slow pace. Up and down, again and again until he’s leaking.

- The edging had gotten to him and it was forcing his orgasm to rush to the forefront and from the way Jules’s chest is heaving, you could tell.

- So you gripped the base of his cock and push down on his chest, your hand slipping up to his neck and Jules’s eyes shoot open as his pupils dilate.

- “Not yet.” Your words cause him to growl and then roll his eyes. “Okay.” He answers.

- You begin again, working your hand, stroking him fast and softly fondling his balls - the juxtaposition was wrecking him.

- You love working him like this, getting him riled up, tugging him to the edge and then stopping just in time to see him relinquish his control to you.

- It was only when Jules begins to beg, do you shift your position and get in between his parted legs and you take his tip into your mouth, it makes him lose his mind to the point of tears.

- You swirl tongue around the head as you continue stroking and your other hand cupping his balls to massage them.

- Your eyes watch as he struggles to not touch you, his hands pull at the pillows around him instead as he cries out as you overwhelm him.

- As you suck harder and fasten your pace, Jules thrusts upwards into your mouth as his body begins to vibrate. “Baby ….. I’m gonna cum.” He chokes out.

- You don’t let up, you don’t release him. Jules tosses his head backwards as he lets out a cry that was something between a grunt and a whimper as he comes into your mouth.

- Jules lets out soft hums as you keep your lip locked around him as he fills your mouth with his come.

- You swallow his release and trail kisses up the length of his body before you take the towel and wipe away the oils and lube from his body. Giving him soft praises along your kisses.

- It almost lures Jules to sleep but you drag him towards the bathroom and into the bath tub. Your body behind him as you take a bathing sponge to his skin and wash him.

- “Merci, mon amour. Tu es si gentil avec moi” [Thank you, my love. You’re so good to me.]

- “De rein mon cœur.” [You’re welcome sweetheart]

Jules was a man of routine.

Every morning, he woke up, went for a run, came back to his home gym and did his daily session before truly beginning his day.

However, when you were around - all of that was thrown out of the window. You typically spent your morning lounging waiting for him to come home after his meetings.

This time around, you were sleeping on your back. Completely nude with your hair perfectly secured in a pink, silk bonnet. He had made love to you the previous night but waking up to your voluptuous body in his arms had made him hard.

Jules laid kisses on your shoulder as his hand caressed your curves. He rose to his knees beside you and took in your form. He marvelled at the crease between your thighs glistening with your arousal mixed with the remnants of the night before. Dark red at your centre, inviting him, calling to him. His dick twitched as he knelt at the bottom of your feet and his hands pushed your legs apart, your legs parting, opening to reveal your womanhood in all its glory.

Jules inhaled.

Oh, your aroma was as heady and intoxicating as ever. Your valley glistened and shone as it looked to welcome him, making his mouth water for a taste.

You stirred awake at his touch. Once your eyes opened and you peered down at him in between your legs. You smiled as you greeted him.

“It’s barely 7 in the morning and you’re already craving for a taste.” You giggled.

“I’m always craving you, mon amour.” Jules whispered into your skin as he widened your pussy with his fingers, easing your labia apart and touching your opening gently with his tongue. You gasped, twitching as your desire overcame your ability to maintain composure through your daze sleep. His tongue ramped up your arousal, the pressure in the pit of your stomach was building up already.

It had been too long since you last saw him and your body was begging for him.

Jules ran the tip of his tongue along your slit before dipping it into your entrance and then pulling it back out to press at your mound of pleasure. As he sucked on your bud, your head tipped back and your mouth fell open in a silent scream of absolute pleasure.

Your fingers scrunched into the softness of the blankets beneath you and your body tensed. Jules slithered his tongue up, down and repeat. This time, the smooth side of his tongue lapped at your clit before he brought the tip of his tongue dipping past your entrance, tasting your nectar and honey. So sweet, so salty, as if you were the best caramel in existence.

“Oh my god! Baby!” You whined as you pushed your hips into his face. Jules growled against your cunt as he held your cheeks apart as he devoured you.

Jules continued paying attention on your nub and sucked it within his mouth as two fingers probed your opening and pushed beyond that into the heat of your cunt. It did not take long for him to feel for your G-spot his fingers encountered the bumps and ripples of your walls.

“Baby, please let me cum. Please, baby.” Your mouth opened as your moans rang out. You fucked his fingers and rubbed your clit on his tongue until the waves of pleasure washed through you.

“Oh my gaaa—.” You cried as you erupted all over his mouth, chin and fingers. Jules hummed as he held onto you as your body shook. You stayed in that position for a moment before Jules laid beside you.

You rolled to face him and threw a leg over his waist to straddle him. You leaned down, placing the softest kiss on his lips as you grasped his dick into your warm palm. Jules groaned into your mouth as you rubbed his tip against your opening.

“Asseyez-vous dessus.” [sit on it] Jules whispered against your lips which caused you to smirk. “Don’t play with me right now, sweetheart.”

You didn’t waste any more time. You guided him into you and then sank down. You took him inch by inch until he completely disappeared within your core. Both of your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he nudged at all of your spots. You pressed your hands into your chest to stabilise yourself.

“I’ll never get used to that.” Jules breathlessly said which caused you to smile.

“I’m one of a kind, baby.” You winked at him.

You rocked back a little, the shaft of his dick appearing between the folds of your sex and then you rolled forward until his dick was hidden once more.

The base of his dick pressing against the depths of your cunt, the trickle of your pleasure holding his thrall. You moved again, rocking back, then rolling forward, faster and faster until your walls were squeezing him as you moved.

Nothing compared to you. After being together for so long - the joys of being inside of you did not compare to anyone in his past. You were the one for him. Rejuvenating his lust for you over and over again with roll of your hips.

“I’m not going to last mon amour. Fuck, you feel so good around me.” Jules moaned as his fingers dug into the sides of your hips as you rutted against him.

You could feel the pressure mounting within you as you rocked faster and faster. You fell into his chest as you slammed down onto him as he thrusted up into you. With his feet planted on the bed, he held you as you worked towards your release. Your fingers grasped the bottom of his jaw and pulled him for a kiss.

“Cum in this pussy baby. It’s yours.” You mumbled into his jawline before placing a kiss against it. Jules wrapped his arms around your waist as you clamped down on him.

One

Two

Three

He erupted inside of you which caused you clamp down even harder as you reached climax, together with him. All of her limbs collapsed and Jules held her until her body stopped trembling.

“Good morning.” He whispered as he placed kisses along her cheek which caused you to giggle as sleep began to wash over you once more.

“Good morning.”

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