ok maybe a writing blog

He’s bitey. He can’t help it, when he gets in the zone he always wants to gnaw on you or himself when he’s really going thru it

HE DESERVES A MUZZLE. Muzzle him and make him a panting whining mess. His oral fixation drives him nuts because all he wants to do is get out of it and lick you on nip you or something

He 100% gets off by humping your leg one day. Needy puppy boy Laios humping your boot while whining and begging for you to fuck him…yeah

Speaking of collars and leashes earlier…keep one on him during sex. When he cums too fast but you’re still wanting to go you just yank him by the leash/collar and keep driving him into you while he moans and cries about it being too much

But you tell him to shut up because puppies don’t speak so he just whines and whimpers until you’re done using him 💞

Laios 100% hordes your clothes. He loves things that smell like you. Used shirts, dirty underwear... those are his favorites. You'll come home to him rutting against one of the pillows while whimpering and moaning your name.

Barks for you. With no issue. You tell him to and he does it. I'm pretty sure he whines and whimpers when he gets excited too or when he thinks you look sexy.

Honestly just looking at him a certain way makes Laios hard. He's totally whipped by his owner.

His hands gripping softly at the base of your tail, calloused fingertips gently rubbing along the bare skin of your back before following up the fur of your tail.

“Just under L5, I wonder what that means for your sacrum and coccyx. Did it alter or fuse?” He's mostly asking himself as he runs along the extra vertebrae in your tail, gently squeezing them as he counts. Each time he pulls the water from the fur he counts, once, twice as you relax into his touch. Lids turning to lead in his presence, only his, as he eases you into an unexpected cat nap.

Before he abruptly moves you as he sees fit, turning you around and pulling you into his lap so that he can make sure your cat ears on top of your head are properly dried.

The sudden movement has your claws digging into his shoulders through one of his linen shirts. He doesn't flinch or hiss, so used to your displeasure in the form of your biting claws.

You watch as he takes a shameless glance towards your bare chest, unlike Izutsumi, you only have fur on your ears and tail.

“Only two nipples….” He says it out loud although under his breath, you can tell he truly was just muttering to himself nothing more, “I thought you'd be more monster like…”

Truly a shameless man with a clinical interest in your body, a view you are unused to. Most men would salivate over the idea of you sitting in their lap and allowing them to touch your tail they fantasize about pulling.

Laios hasn't once given your tail a tug, hadn't even touched it until you asked him to, or if you curl it around his hand in order to make him idly pet you.

Still it stings, to hear his almost dejected tone, his brows furrowed in anything but concentration.

“Try not to sound so disappointed, Laios.” Although you wanted it to come out a hiss his name is always honey on your tongue.

“I like the way you say my name. You purr it.” He comments, “The vibrations hit your hyoid bone and it makes my name sound like a purr. Humanoids have a hyoid bone too but don't produce the same sound. They say purring is involuntary, a lot like snoring. The sound is stimulated by air passing in the larynx because of its flexibility. Unlike in big cats, like tigers or lions, your hyoid bone doesn't have the tough cartilage that runs up towards the skull. That structure prevents purring but allows for roars to be produced. Because you don't have the cartilage you can't really roar.”

You're used to his little tangents by now, tip of your tail flicking in curiosity as you listen, smile creeping on your lips showing off the sharp tips of your canines.

“Are you calling me domesticated? Think I'm like a house cat, Laios?” For once he reads your face carefully before he answers honestly. He was never once one to mince or sweeten words.

“Well house cats can be just as dangerous as their larger family and should not be underestimated. I've seen ‘domesticated’ cats fight things three times their size in my home land. Taking anything on, from a bear to a mimic, they truly have no fear.”

“I've seen you do the same. I mean look at these claws.” He grabs a hold of your hand, pressing his thumb over your palm and pads of your fingers to make your sharp claws retract and appear, “Razor sharp and retractable claws that have scratched dragon scales. Oh and your teeth.”

His thumb gently pushes your upper lip out of the way, showcasing the sharp incisor and canine to himself. Pressing his rough pad to the point drawing a drop of blood, “I wonder what it's like to have these sink into your skin. Ah and your tongue.”

He's lost in the moment now, like a hound that's found a faint scent of the targeted prey. Caught up in exploring the monster qualities of you and it wouldn't be the first time you've allowed him to revel over you. But it was the first time he was this caught up with no one around. His soft voice with a tone akin to praise and it is a sound you are unused to. Heart starts to pound a little faster in your chest.

His thumb and forefinger grab at the tip of your wet muscle, golden eyes looking over the organ with intense scrutiny.

“Ah so you do have backward papillae making your tongue rough, this allows for flesh to be stripped from bones with ease.” He's close now, much closer than you remember as his face hovers near yours, “I wonder…”

He cannot help himself, truly a man who was a slave to curiosity as his thumb and forefinger move from your tongue to cup your jaw, squeezing at the hinges to keep your mouth open. Now his nose is brushing yours as he tilts his face, letting the dark wet muscle dart out to taste yours. A broad lick at first, the action surprising you as you startled but he pulls you closer to him by the small of your back. Free hand coming to gently squeeze the base of your tail because he knows it makes you lean into his body.

The one holding open your jaw gently moves to the nape of your neck where he applies pressure, the action makes you limp in his hold allowing him to take another broad stripe.

And another and another. Until his tongue is exploring your mouth as if he'd never be given the chance again.

The cold dungeon air is lost to the heat of Laios’ body and the fire licking at your back aiding in the bout of dizziness brought on by his ministrations

Lustful in a way you aren't used to, overwhelming in the way he persists. The way his strong muscle glides over yours as he tastes the small whines and wanton moans you give him from his actions. How spit begins to drip from your chin and his, silvery strings connecting the two of you that begin to turn pink and then red from how he purposely scrapes his tongue along the razor points of your teeth as if he likes the feel.

Letting the metallic tang settle in the back of your throat activating your prey drive and had Laios not had his firm grip at your tail and nape you'd have pinned him to the bed roll to bite at his jugular by now.

Instead he pulls back just a bit to be met with the slits of your eyes and the sight makes his lashes flutter.

“Iris that can be round or slit, like they are now. Better for tracking prey. Truly you are a predator above all else. All cats are far from domesticated, especially you.” He pants, going in for one final swipe of his tongue against yours to feel the rough barbs scrape against his now sensitive tongue. A groan echoes in his chest when you wrap your wet muscle around his.

He breaks the exploration slowly, taking the time to graze his teeth along the length before sucking the spit and blood mixture from the tip of your tongue before he swallowed thickly.

His broad calloused hand moves from your nape slowly coming around to cup your throat before his fingers dip greedily into the skin.

“Say my name.”

“Laios.” Comes your rumbling purr and that is when you feel his cock twitch against the laces of his now damp pants. The tip of his nose brushes yours again, tilting his head as if to lean in for a kiss before bickering echoes down the corridor.

“Senshi, I told you, harpy eggs are off limits!”

The tall man quickly sheds his shirt, shoving your frame into the large linen knowing it will be well past your ass. Expertly shimmying you into clean undergarments before he turns you in his lap to face the fire once more.

You know the man to be brazen in his love for monster knowledge and to be caught exploring a beastman should be no different. Even if he knew his party members would scold him over his insatiable curiosity you still thought it odd that he chose now to dress you.

To fix your tail from under his shirt so that it could freely flicker as he goes back to the original task at hand, making sure your tail was dry.

Immediately the elf, half foot, and dwarf narrow their eyes in suspicion at the tallman who pays them no mind at first.

“There, all done.” He says softly, taking the damp towel from his hands before he makes eye contact with the dwarf, “Need any help with dinner Senshi?”

“No.” You answer for the dwarf, moving back to sit fully in his lap and sap his warmth, something everyone was used to by now. As much as the party tried to keep you away from him, you seemed to gravitate to his warmth even more.

The night goes on as usual, dinner is shared, dishes are cleaned and watches are rotated but after yours you do not crawl into your now cold bed roll.

Instead you slink into the arms of the strong tall man with his golden eyes and locks. Hair you like to run your fingers through and watch his eyes roll when you scrape your claws against his scalp in the dark when he thinks no one is looking.

Senshi’s soft snoring fills the small chamber paired with the crackle of the wood in the fire.

You turn to face him, his pupils wide from the low light as he looks you over, briefly you wonder how much he can see. You'll never know how beautifully the flames lick at your features, casting you in an ambient glow that makes Laios both at ease and as if he is holding fast to a live wire.

Your nails follow up his spine before easing into his hairline. Slowly his eyes close, when you're sure his even breathing indicates sleep you turn back over. Nestling into him and still you ask the question that's been clawing up your throat.

“Did you like it? My tongue?” Barely a whisper, closing your own eyes thinking he wouldn't hear you even on the small chance he was awake.

“It doesn't feel like a human’s. I enjoyed the experience a lot.” His low timber at your ear, breath fanning the sensitive appendage and it flickers each time he exhales before he moves his mouth slightly away.

“You've been kissing someone else, Laios?” There's a threat to it, one you know he won't pick up on. Chilchuk swears up and down Laios wouldn’t even know if a succubus was making a move on him.

“I haven't for a long while. Not much interest.” Factual, excitement only expressed in his interests and in kissing it seems he found none.

Maybe Chil was right? Maybe the tallman wasn't much of a romantic kind of guy. Maybe everything was just curious, platonic behavior.

In the small moment you take to reflect, strong hands press you flush against Laios’ thick torso, his hand cupping over your throat once more.

“Again. Please.” He whispers softly into your ear, you furrow your brows in confusion for a moment. Wondering exactly what he meant before it dawned on you.

Cat smile on your features he'd never see in the dim light as you trap a hound between four retractable claws and two syllables.

“Laios.”

What started as one tiny indulgence on your part—a glance toward his hands—soon bloomed into full-blown obsession. The fruits of which would betray you to anyone who opened your notebook, now full of sketches. Every knuckle, every wrinkle rendered with the kind of care that screams affection.

And it betrays you, as you feared, when those same hands—immortalised in ink—leaf through the pages. Heart plummeting, you watch him carefully. See if he’s noticed. But the moment Viktor holds the book at arm’s length and compares one of your sketches to his open palm—you know it’s over.

He teases you for weeks after. “Is it just my hands that interest you?” he asks, all innocent and smug. “Or are you curious about other people’s hands too?” You swat him for it, ignoring the ‘cripple’ card he pretends to pull, but you’re still smiling as you walk away. You can’t help it.

And what turns out to be true—despite everything—is that it was never just his hands. Nor anyone else’s. It’s the whole of him. The strange, perfect sum of all his parts.

The next fixation is his eyes, though you don’t linger long. He’s too quick, too perceptive, and your stares never go unnoticed. So you move on. His nose comes next. Here you stay for a while, long enough for him to finally clock your silent advances. And Viktor—mercifully—makes the first move.

This, of course, opens up a whole new range of possibilities. All those parts hidden under layers of clothing that you’d only been able to imagine are now granted to you—completely denuded. Pure skin, and sinew, and bone, laid bare only for you to worship. Falling asleep with your ear to his stomach is bliss. Kissing over the bruises left by the brace—a privilege. Pressing your mouth to where his underbelly hollows, trying not to let your breath tickle him—pure joy.

There is one part, however, that managed to escape your attention—until recently. Viktor’s lips.

They are not the kind of mouth you’d notice at first glance. Not full, not plump. But you’ve watched them closely now, and they are a wonder in their own right. The way they purse when he chews absently on a pencil, softening when the pressure eases. How his fingertip comes to rest at the corner of his mouth whenever he’s deep in thought, tapping once, twice, then stilling. You’ve seen him lick his lips after a sip of too-hot coffee, tongue darting out to chase the steam before it vanishes. Watched how they part around a spoon or the edge of a fork, cheeks rounding slightly as he eats, the motion making his whole face look softer—almost unfamiliar.

And when he smiles—genuinely, openly, without irony—his whole face pulls taut with it. The corners of his lips lift first, then the skin around his eyes creases in that way that makes your heart ache. His mouth was never just a mouth. It was a thousand quiet gestures stitched together into a portrait you hadn’t even realised you were memorising.

Viktor, the ever present hawk eye, notices. Mid-sentence, no less, pencil resting slack against the paper while you fixate on the way he mouths the words, vowels rounding tenderly, adding new meaning to the phrase soft-spoken. He doesn’t call you out this time—not exactly. Just tilts his head and smiles in that way that means he’s caught you again. You fail miserably in looking away.

Later, when the work is packed and the clock tells you it's much too late to be lingering, Viktor rises and holds out a hand with purpose.

"Come," he says, voice low with something just shy of caballing. "I’ve thought of something that might make you happy."

You quirk a brow. "You're awfully confident for someone who still insists on instant coffee."

He hums, not rising to the bait, just draws your hand into his and begins walking. The halls are quiet. His cane clicks softly against the stone. "You’ve been looking at my mouth like it holds all the secrets of the universe," he says. "I figured… maybe it should offer a few answers."

You stumble a little, less from the pace and more from the way heat curls in your stomach at the implication. “And you’re not going to tell me what you mean by that?” you ask.

“I think you’ll understand soon enough,” he says, glancing at you sidelong. “If I’m right—and I usually am.”

Viktor doesn’t lead, not in the traditional sense. He doesn’t drag you behind him or push you to move faster. Instead, he floats ideas, opens doors—metaphorical and literal—and lets you choose whether to walk through. He is an eager and generous lover, yes, but also a careful one. He has never once assumed. He doesn’t chase power, he invites trust.

Even when he first offered you his most tender parts, baring himself not to surrender but to be seen. That night had been many things—electric, cathartic, almost embarrassingly emotional—but what lingered most was the way Viktor had looked up at you afterward. Like you’d cracked open something in him he hadn’t known was closed. Like he wanted more.

And now, this. Another door. Another idea. Wild, hushed for now, but clearly mapped out in that labyrinthine mind of his.

The lock clicks behind you as he shuts the dorm door. Viktor turns to face you properly, smile curved like he’s hiding something behind his back. "Will you let me show you?" he asks. His voice is quiet, but sure.

You nod, cheeks blooming into that lovely vermillion he likes so much. He watches the colour spread like paint in water—utterly taken. “Good,” he says simply, and nods toward the chair near his desk. “Get undressed. Sit there.”

You raise an eyebrow at that, already pulling at your shirt hem. “Are you getting undressed too, or am I the only one baring all tonight?”

Viktor’s smile curves sharp, wicked. “There will be no need. Not yet.”

The way he says it—not yet—twists in your belly like silk pulled tight. You settle into the chair, shifting as your skin meets the cool seat, but Viktor is already moving, reaching to the drawer by his bed. He returns not with flourish, but with quiet certainty, cradling the harness like it’s something precious.

“Is your attitude in need of… maintenance again?” you tease, though your voice comes a little thinner than intended.

Viktor glances up, bemused. “Not particularly,” he says. Then sits—gingerly, carefully—onto the pillow he’s placed at your feet. One leg at a time, he slides the straps up your calves, his hands as gentle as they are precise.

“Not tonight,” he repeats, fastening the harness into place on your hips after you lift for him obediently. His thumbs skim the edges where leather meets skin, slow and certain. “But I do have another gift for you.”

You glance down, and your chest flutters with a shaky laugh that barely makes it out.

He’s loosening his cravat now, slow enough to watch your eyes track every movement. The silk slips through his fingers, down his chest and off to the side. The top buttons of his shirt follow, granting you a view of the elegant dip of his collarbones, the pale skin of his throat. He’s flushed—not just the dusting across his cheeks, but his ears, the tips of them going pink like they always do when he’s on the verge of something exciting. His pupils are near-black, and his lips curl into a smile that might’ve passed for shy, had you not known him as intimately as you do. He’s so distractingly pretty you almost overlook the cock hanging between your legs.

“I’ve noticed,” he begins, voice low, “that the full-body scan you’ve been giving me lately seems to halt on my mouth for quite some time.”

You start to object, or maybe laugh, or deny it outright—but Viktor continues, silencing you with little more than a look. “I don’t think anyone’s ever taken me apart so lovingly before,” he murmurs, and you feel the weight of that confession settle in your chest, curling into a warm ball like a cat that has finally found its place. “So allow me to indulge you.”

He shifts between your legs, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee. Then another, higher. His breath is warm, his lips scalding. But he doesn’t rush. Instead, he reaches up for your hand and brings it to his mouth.

The first kiss lands at your wrist, soft and gentle. Then he begins to drag his mouth over each finger, tongue flicking along the pads like he’s trying to ruin you right there. His lips close over your index, drawing it in with slow suction, warm and slick, and your breath grows heavy and burdened with need.

But Viktor takes his time. Tongue curling underneath, tracing the crease where knuckle meets palm. Then he shifts to your middle finger, sucking deeper, until the wet sound of it becomes a pulse between your legs. His eyes remain fixed on you, half-lidded, patient and unhurried. You can feel the way his tongue presses up against your skin—how he lets the pad of it slide along your body with intention, tasting you.

He nips, briefly, at the base of your thumb, then soothes the mark with a kiss so gentle it barely registers. There is no part of this that is idle. He worships, he savours. He learns.

Your eyes have not closed for a while. Even when you blink you make sure you can still see him, utterly beguiled by the trace of shiny spit his mouth produces around your fingers. The slide of it, the pout he makes to suck around you until your own hand burns with all the hot blood circulating through it. You are certain Viktor can feel your pulse on his tongue.

He releases your hand with a quiet pop, a fine thread of slick still connecting the two of you. For a moment, he simply looks at you—then his gaze drops.

One hand steadies your thigh, fingers splayed and gentle. The other slips between your legs. First, to check something very important. Whether he was right.

He teases your entrance, clever hand searching, and when he finds the answer, he gasps softly. The quiet sound that follows is unmistakable—confirmation, and proof, and reward. Your eyes flutter closed, unthinking.

“Eyes on me at all times, love,” he says. A small, firm correction. Not harsh, never. But enough. You open them again, immediately.

He’s already looking up at you, chin tilted, lips parted like he might lean in and take a bite. The light catches in his eyes—hungry, but so focused, so careful. His fingers stroke through you again, slower now, like he’s waiting to see every reaction he can draw from your face with just the tiniest movement.

When he speaks next, his voice is lower. Intimate. Pleased. “Good. That’s very good.”

And then, oh—a kiss. Nowhere near your skin. On the tip, sweet and teasing, it pries at the hinges of your jaw, makes your eyes go wide. It is as if you can feel whatever Viktor presents. Your mind, drunk already, soaks in the sight of him at your feet—but mostly, his mouth. Wrapping solemnly around the length nestled between your thighs. With the slide of his lips, two fingers ease inside you.

They curl, slow and steady, knuckles grazing soft where you’re most sensitive. But even that stretch is a distant hum compared to the way your brain short-circuits watching him.

What Viktor is doing is maddening enough with the phantom feeling between your legs, and you cannot stand the idea of what it would actually feel like. He’s not rushing. No frantic bobbing, no mess—yet. Just the steady, measured pressure of his lips gliding down, then pulling back.

And though you don’t feel the warmth of his mouth there, the sight of it—him—at your feet, eyes half-lidded, cheeks hollowing—is enough to have your body tensing up and toes curling.

Whenever your eyes fall closed, he stops. “Watch me,” he says firmly, pulling back just enough to speak, lips brushing the tip in a mockery of a kiss.

The pace he sets when you obey is punishing in reverse—the slowness of it, tormenting. His fingers inside you only add to this feast of teasing, but it strikes you that you can endure it, so long as Viktor never rises from his spot.

Innocence is not your virtue—you’ve thought about it. But now you're convinced that vivid imagination isn’t your virtue either, since the fantasy has absolutely nothing on the reality of Viktor’s mouth caressing the underside, lips shining. Gorgeous, you think.

He moans, pleased, as if to perplex you, a glint of joy dances in his eye when his tongue flattens out and the inanimate head slaps against it. Drool wells around your cock, and you imagine how warm it is, how smooth the slide must feel in Viktor’s mouth—how it would feel to you if it were actually attached to your body.

And as if all of that is not maddening enough, Viktor pushes back down. Lower, further, past the barrier of throat, where his vein is faintly risen, where you can see his quickened pulse painted in pale blue. He doesn’t stop when he gags—just squeezes his eyes shut for a beat, breathes through his nose, and steadies himself. The sound it makes is so vulgar, and it only seems to spur him on. He pulls back, lips stretched glossy around you, then lets it rest heavy on his tongue. Holds it there, looks up, eyes dazed but daring.

You gulp, and he doesn’t. Not until he needs to, and even then, he does it dramatically—lets it fall from his mouth with a slick gasp and a trail of spit, only to drag his tongue along the underside as he catches his breath.

All the while, his fingers are moving with studied intent inside you, curled perfectly, just shy of unbearable. And then—

He takes it again. This time deeper. Swallows it down. At the same moment, he thrusts his fingers to the hilt and presses his thumb firm against your clit. You cry out, reflexive and raw, will your eyes to stay open through the blur of tears, desperate to not miss anything.

It’s not enough to come, but nearly. Nearly is worse. So you move, slow at first, unsure, rocking your hips in shallow thrusts—meeting the wet heat of his mouth, and pressing his fingers deeper in return.

He hums around it, and the phantom vibration flutters straight through you, your brain somehow wills it into existence. You watch the lines of strain on his face, the determination behind his eyes.

It’s odd, in a way. Viktor is always speaking—explaining, coaxing, teasing. But now, his mouth is busy, and the absence of his voice only makes you crave it more.

You hear it anyway, conjured from memory. How he sounds when he praises you. How he groans when you ride him. How he whispers your name like a confession. But the sounds he’s making now—wet, guttural, wanting—are nearly enough.

Before you know it, your ass slides to the edge of the chair, wood creasing the skin of your cheeks, hips spilling over. Your hands come up to cup his face, and it’s the first time Viktor closes his eyes—calm smoothing over his features, as if your fingers have ironed out the tension.

And then—oh God—you’re certain Viktor plots to ruin you eternally, when his jaw slackens, and he offers you a gift. Control. Messy, and glistening with his spit.

He brings your hands to his throat, one at a time, guiding them. Your thumbs prop his chin, and he waits—mouth provocatively open, trusting—waiting for you to move your hips into his palm, between his lips.

It’s surreal, the way he opens for you—so patient, so steady. The way he makes himself available without ever surrendering power. You can see it in the set of his brows, in the calculated push of his fingers inside you, the press of his thumb against your clit timed with every breath he takes around the length in his mouth.

You move, slowly at first. Testing the tension in your thighs, the wet glide of his lips. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t falter. His hand stays on your hip, just placed there, letting you do the rest. And whatever you do is yours to decide.

So you fuck his mouth tenderly, a rhythm born of instinct and awe. Not for the cock, not for the illusion—but for him. For Viktor, who has always known how to give. For Viktor, who never rushes but always sees you.

He moans again—low, almost a hum, the vibration somehow finding a way of seeping straight into your gut. You want to tell him he’s beautiful. That he’s undoing you. That no one’s ever looked so good sat on their ass with a cock between their lips. But your mouth won’t cooperate—your mind, already fraying, can't hold language when he curls his fingers just right and presses the flat of his tongue along the length.

The chair creaks beneath you when your hips stutter. His lips are wet, stretched, cheeks hollowing with every pass.

It comes faster than you expect. Your hand finds his hair and you pull— just enough. His eyes flick up to yours, dark and unblinking. Your mouth falls open, your thighs tremble. He groans around the base, and it tips you over—hot and high and breaking against the inside of your chest.

Your body curls forward. His hand, warm on your belly, holds you through it. Hazy, you gasp and breathe heavily, the rise and fall of your stomach made real by Viktor’s touch. When you step beyond the other side of climax, the side of warmth and pliancy, you slip down from the chair, knees finding the floor, and Viktor’s arms open instantly. The harness shifts between you—warm and slick with his spit, now nudging his stomach awkwardly. It makes you both laugh, breathless and low. Still, you clamber into his lap, careless of grace, needing only to be close.

Your arms go around his neck. His hands bracket your hips. You wrap yourself around him like you might fall through the floor otherwise, pressing your face into the crook of his neck and breathing deep. The scent of him, the sweat on his collar, the faint ghost of whatever soap he used this morning—all of it hits like safety. Like home.

“God,” you sigh, voice threadbare. “How do you know me so well?”

He hums. You feel it in his throat before you hear the answer. “I am very observant,” he murmurs. A kiss to your temple. “And curious.” His hands shift at your back, stroking slow. Then, softer still: “And I love you an insane amount as well.”

The words crack something open inside you. You hold him tighter, and mumble quietly into his shoulder. “There is no other way to love you than an insane amount, Viktor. You are my biggest fixation.”

He walks and walks, every step more erratic and desperate than the other, he wants to go home, to sleep, to wake up tomorrow and make sure all of this was a nightmare, Jayce comes to a stop, he's arrived wherever his body has taken him, leaning against a wall with shaky pants for breath and a small electric bolt of pain coming from his leg. His tired eyes look up, his mind and body in it's haze has found its way to your cottage.

He freezes, taking deep shaky breaths like he's about to have a panic attack but then he sees your shadow on the second floor, your back as you dusted off something near your window, unaware of the poor inventor that can barely stand on his feet.

But he stares, dazed hazel eyes drowning in the domestic scene, like he hasn't come from an alternate reality where you, everyone, everything was gone. Like he didn't just come from blowing a hole in the chest of his best friend. He feels like he's coming home, like those days he'll check out earlier from the workshop and come visit you and have a nice home made dinner and a well earned cuddly nap.

Jayce stumbles forward, his calloused hand pushes the little door of your fence, his hammer dragging next to the flowers of your garden. The sound of your gate opening made you jump, you turned around and gasped loudly at the sight of your missing lover. You ran, flew, probably, down the stairs frantically searching for your keys as you unlocked the door, you swan it opened and there he was.

"My love..." You whispered, your throat feeling tight. He drops his hammer and stares at you for a couple of seconds, his eyes wide and pupils blowing, you're the first one to move, bare feet stepping out of the door frame and cup his face. He froze, he hasn't been touched for so long.

Jayce broke down in an instant, his broad frame trembled as tears quickly pooled and fell from his eyes, leaving a clear trail in his dirty and scarred face. He wraps his arms around your waist and buries his face on your neck, a loud ugly sob breaks from his throat.

Your own tears threaten to fall down, one of your hands runs down his back, trying to comfort him. His legs finally give out, making you and him fall to the wooden floor of your porch. Jayce keeps sobbing, repeating your name over and over like a prayer.

"I'm right here, puppy." You whispered softly, your fingers running down his hair, his face was deep in your neck, your skin muffling the cries and whines that come out of him.

You just whisper that same phrase every time he calls your name, you answer that you're right here with him, reassuring him that he hasn't gone mad, he's not a hallucination and you're real. It helps both ways, he feels real, he's here too, back in your arms after so long. His sobs die down after a couple of minutes, small hiccups left as a reminder of how hard he cried. Jayce slowly lifted his head from your neck.

"Hm..ngh-.."He tries to talk, to say something more than your name, but he can't not yet at least, his eyes are hazy and dull, he's back home physically but not mentally.

"Shhh, it's alright, my darling. Let's get inside." You whispered softly, he nodded slowly, you helped him stand up, letting him let some of his weight on you instead of his injured leg.

You don't want to hear about what happened, not yet at least, not after he just cried unconsolably for almost ten minutes. Jayce made it to the couch, you laid down with him, he returned to his previous position, curled against you with his face on your neck.

Jayce could feel your pulse, it was a little faster, he could feel your skin, your soft skin he loved to touch, how his fingers used to brush mindless patterns against it while you slept. Your hair, your beautiful hair he loved to bury his nose in. He takes a deep breath, the familiar smell of your perfume and shampoo hitting him, the inventor whimpers and holds you tighter, almost like a child clinging to a toy.

"ngh- mised ya- so much." The inventor whispered against your skin, his chapped lips trembling slightly, your fingers brushed the back of his neck, he shivered and buried his face further, the feeling of your skin against his feels so grounding.

"I missed you too, I thought I wouldn't see you again." You whisper back into his hair, feeling a small knot forming on your throat from all the bottled emotions, you gasped softly as he placed a soft kiss on your neck. Your lover sighed, his breath hot and ragged against your skin, you were clean and soft a sharp contrast with his muddy and scarred skin.

His shaky hands have a death grip on your waist, but they relax after a couple of minutes, his breathing slows down and his fingers start roaming around the sides of your waist, feeling you. His lips continue the small and featherlight kisses on your neck, you tilted your head out of instinct.

"...miss...so much..." Jayce whispered against you again, for him it feels like he can't get enough of these words, he needs to tell you how much he missed you and he needs for you to reassuring him over and over again. Your fingers run down the back of his neck making him gasp and shudder against you.

"Shhhh, you're back home, beloved." You whisper back, his body curls closer, a soft moan leaves his lips and a small gasp leaves yours when you feel something bumping your thigh.

"m'sorry, doll...m'so sorry..." He whined against you, you can feel how he's stopping himself from grinding against you, that second, that small movement sends an electric shot right through his spine and into his brain.

"That's quite alright, handsome." You spoke softly, he nodded but a small needy whine left his trembling lips.

"ngh- m'sorry...been so long, sweetheart, your fingers, you feel- ngh-" He couldn't finish his sentence because his hips betrayed him and moved on their own, a small roll against your thigh, he shivered and moaned, for such a small action, the sound that escaped him was uncharacteristically lewd.

Your hand cups his face, he leans in like a stray cat getting a pet for the first time ever. It makes your heart ache, how broken he returned, but it's also quite pleasant to hear his little breaths and whine.

"Want a hand, puppy?" You ask softly, he closes his eyes taking deep breaths as your words sink, he nods frantically.

"...please..." Jayce whines again, he tries to nuzzle closer but a shot of pain curses through his leg, making him teary eyed and bury his face back on your neck with a pathetic whimper.

"Oh, my beautiful love....shhh..." You whispered, stroking his hair to try and calm him down again, still, his need is growing impatient, he rolls his hips again, slower this time.

"I think our attention should be focused on something else, stud." You whispered pressing a soft kiss on his hair, he whined and shook his head, his big hands gripping against your sides.

"pl- nghh- please, dot, don't leave me like this..." Jayce whines against your skin, there's a sense of guilt behind the shiver that ran through your body, but it's starting to be watered down by his hands starting to wander around your waist.

"Only because you're begging so nicely." You whispered against his ear, the tall man moaned deliciously against you and nodded, he likes to beg, to cry until you give in and reward him.

Your hands went to his shoulders, pulling him away, he gasped and latched onto your waist.

"Shhh, don't worry, my love...let's just get you more comfortable." You said gently, trying to hold a chuckle as the sight of such a tall man holding onto you like a cat would be its favorite toy was quite funny. He nodded slowly, you lay him down on the couch, prepping a cushion on his head and making sure his injured leg was spread and comfortable. He didn't resist, didn't even whine in discomfort.

"Good boy, off to a great start." You whispered with a soft smirk, Jayce felt his member throbbing just from your words, he swallowed and looked up at you with glassy eyes. You leaned down, your lips meeting his forehead, then his brow.

"How I missed you- missed kissing your pretty face." You spoke against his skin, he gasped softly with each kiss, like he forgot how your lips felt and was experiencing them for the first time.

"...missed kisses too..." He whispered softly, you smiled softly, cupping his jaw, your fingers running through his beard, he sighs softly, tiling his head to give you more access to his neck.

"I like this." You whisper with a smirk, Jayce, like a puppy, tilt his head and stare at you.

"you d-do, doll?" He whispered, a little wide eyed, you nodded.

"I like it a lot." You whispered biting your lip as your smirk transformed into a mischievous grin. Jayce felt his cheeks heating up, he nodded at your words.

"I'll ke-keep it then, ngh-." Your lover mumbled, you chuckled softly, the sound of your laughter was so foreign to him but so familiar, he's been hearing it in his dreams for so long, in his delusions and hallucinations it lingered along with blurry memories of your face. His scarred lips turned into the smallest of smiles. With a slow and gentle movement, you got on his lap, your knee just below his aching member, you didn't dare to sit completely, not wanting to lean your weight on his bad leg by accident. Your face leaned closer and locked your lips with his.

It was like being lost in the sea and finally being found. Like the first rain after a hot summer.

Jayce moans against your lips, his hands holding onto you like a life line. He's hungry, starved for so long and finally is allowed to have you. His lips are rough, chapped and his beard makes the intense kiss a brand new experience. You've kissed him with some stubble before but this is a whole different level. And you're loving it.

His cock is hurting, pulsing with need, his hand wanders down to your free hand, he can't talk, his brain is going mushy with all this affection and need, you let him guide your hand, your fingers teasingly brush against the small patch of wetness on his pants.

Jayce lets out a wet and completely lewd sound, his whole body shudders and throws his head back into the cushion. You shudder with excitement, biting your cheek as your fingers undo his pants and finally release his throbbing and leaking cock from his boxers. He moans softly as your fingers brush against his bare skin.

"Nghh- d-doll, please, please, hurts-" He manages to whimper out, his eyes flutter as your hand wraps around his cock, the slow movement makes him whine.

"Good boy, I'll go slow." You whispered softly, leaning back down to meet his lips again, this time the kiss is slower, more soft, he pants and moans against your mouth as your hand moves up and down, stroking his sensitive length.

"s-sweetheart..." He called between gasps and pants, you pulled away slightly, your hand still stroking now a tad faster.

"Yes, baby?" You whisper, pressing a soft kiss on his forehead, making his eyes flutter a little bit. Some small shots of cum start leaking already, but you keep stroking, he opened his mouth to talk but only moans came out as you speedy your rhythm, his eyes roll back, his leg started shaking.

His eyes widen, his fingers burying on your skins as he throws his head back, a long shot of cum spitting out of his throbbing cock painting part of your arm white.

"ngh-! Hmmm! D-doll oh!" Tears form on his hazel eyes as another load of his cum shot, he moans against the cushion.

"Good boy, there you go, my lovely." You whispered, peppering kisses on the side of his face. He pants desperately, almost gasping for air, a thin layer of sweat covering his forehead. The praise goes straight to his brain, his cock still hard and throbbing against your hand.

"Inside you, please, beautiful." He muttered, his hands clinging to your sides like a life line. You stare at him, as you ponder his request, your thumb wiping the tears off his face. You would be lying if all this moaning and crying didn't leave you needy for more.

"Want to be inside me, baby?" You asked softly with a smirk, he nods frantically with a whimper, he mumbles 'please' over and over rapidly, like a prayer. You shushed him by pressing soft kisses on his lips, with a couple of smooth movements your pants and underwear were off. He stares up at you, scanning your features, every little thing that was slowly becoming foggy on his memory when he was in that cave.

Jayce's eyes roam down at your fingers rubbing onto your sensitivity, your soft moans filling your ears as you make yourself wetter, he leans in and steals a couple of kisses, making you gasp softly and smile softly.

"Mhm...pretty..." He whimpered out between pants, your hand returned to his cock, stroking again as you positioned yourself better.

"Wanna taste you..." He adds with a whine. You shushed him gently, cupping his face.

"Another time, my love." You whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, his fingers buried deep on your skin, the neediness and strong cling onto you was making you feel so good already. With a soft gasp you went down, his aching member sliding into your wet folds pretty easily. Jayce moaned softly, his healthy leg moved slightly to find a better position, the small movement was enough to bury himself deeper and make you whimper in pleasure.

It's been so long since he filled you so nicely, but you two were like puzzle pieces, perfectly fitting.

"Oh- mhm- I missed you so much, puppy." You gasped softly before starting rocking your hips, his eyes roll in the most delicious way, his mouth slightly open as he pants and moans softly with the slow rhythmic movement.

Your whole body tingles with pleasure, this is slower and far gentler than you've ever been with each other, but after such a long time it felt so good. Almost as good as the first kiss, the first time his hands wandered around your body.

"s-nhg- so good." He mumbled almost mindlessly between moans, his hips moving alongside yours for a couple of seconds. Jayce was exhausted, incredibly so but he needed this so badly. The way you felt around him, your soft sounds and movements made the tiredness dissipate for a moment. He can pretend he's just with you, there's nothing wrong, not when you're with him, your lips touching every inch of his face and your hands caressing him.

Unsurprisingly, the pleasure became too much, his hands gripped around your hips harder and pushed you down, making you moan and tug on his hair involuntarily. With a couple of pushes from his, his leg started to shake, tears built again around his eyes.

"Doll-"

"I know, puppy, you can come." You panted softly, biting your lip as his hips become a little faster and aggressive. A small sob breaks through him before morphing in with a moan, he gasps and leans his head back on the cushion, his seed shooting inside you, the grip on your hips weakness. It felt so heavenly, the gentle throbbing along his sweet sounds were enough to leave you satisfied, Jayce was whispering curses to himself as he finally found relief.

"G-good boy- so good, my love." You whispered shakily, leaning down to rest your forehead against his, some droplets of sweat trailing down his face. His thumbs ran gentle circles against your skin, just feeling you and grounding himself back to reality.

"Love y'so much." Jayce murmurs softly, the pooled tears falling down silently along his cheeks.

"I love you too, puppy." You whispered back, you pulled away from his forehead and tried to untangle your from his body.

"No, pl-please, sweetheart." Jayce murmurs, his voice thick and a little sleepy, he tugs you back in, making you chuckle and nuzzle your face on his chest.

"Just a minute more." He says, keeping himself inside you, one of his hands traveling up to your hair, his chapped lips resting on top of your hair.

"Just let me feel you."

Taglist: @pickuptruck01 @sseleniaa