Jelli’s Library

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

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

“can you hear me, (name)?!”

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

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

this voice...?

taken aback, he tries to speak again.

“(name)?”

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

he looks down at his body.

why does he look so much like you?

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

this wasn’t a... dream?

“xavier?”

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

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

“i-i think it got away.”

this can’t be...

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

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

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

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

“don’t tell me we are—”

“it must be that wanderer’s doing.”

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

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

“what do we do now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

xavier bites his lips.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“okay?”

you nod. “okay.”

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

“all right, we should head back now.”

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

it’s going to be a long night.

“xavier!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“are you sure?”

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

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

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

your eyes widen immediately. “no! no—”

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

“oh? what is it then, (name)?”

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

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

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

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

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

“all right.”

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

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

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

“let’s go then.”

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

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

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

“it’s okay.”

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

why haven’t you added him yet?

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

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

“all right, all right, can you just—”

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

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

“which one?” his lips purse again.

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

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

xavier would definitely add your fingerprints to his lock.

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

“xavier?” you whisper his name.

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

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

“wha—”

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

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

“oh, shut up, xavier!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

is this how it feels for you?

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

are you being dense on purpose?

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

xavier sighs. “(name)...”

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

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

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

another time...?

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

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

“it doesn’t work like that—”

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

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

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

xavier wishes he was, actually.

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

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

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

even if it meant no sleep for him.

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

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

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

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

please forgive me.

xavier’s gone. gone, gone.

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

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

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

fuck it.

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

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

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

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

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

i am sorry, (name).

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

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

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

should he knock?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

what does he even say to you?

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

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

you blink. “what do you mean?”

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

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

you don’t want him…?

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

you gulp, silver eyelashes fluttering. “xavi—”

“please.”

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

“you feel me?” xavier pants from above.

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

“we can’t—”

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

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

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

“i—”

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

“what’s this, then?”

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

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

“xav—”

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

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

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

“what would that make me?”

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

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

that’s the crux of it all, isn’t it?

“just… like.. me.”

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

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

but, of course, you don’t.

“i want to.”

you want him too.

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

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

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

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

“strange? weird?”

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

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

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

“when?”

“when i fucked myself using your fingers.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“so… you’ll fuck me, right?”

you pull him down fast.

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

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

“i’ll move, d-don’t worry.”

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

“you like it?”

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

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

“don’t blame m-me, baby…”

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

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

except, it’s not anymore.

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

oh.

he pinches at your thigh. “(name).”

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

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

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

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

“of course… come here.” he smirks.

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

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

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

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

“look at you, baby…”

“bent over me like this.”

“all spread open for me.”

“so obscene, aren’t you?”

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

“oh, xavier… oh~”

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

“aw, you are so cute.”

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

“i am gonna move, okay?”

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

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

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

“eh—”

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

“f-feeling good?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

xavier’s undone all the way to the soul.

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

“that was…”

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

the need has finally sunk its teeth.

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

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

zayne

if zayne was to stumble upon your hidden NSFW drawings about him ? y'all, he is ending his work early that day to come home to you

like gentleman that he is, he'll keep his feelings boner in check and just wait patiently for you to open the can of worm first. there is a reason that you chose to hide it from him, and he will respect that boundary

but of course, he'll drop some clues here and there to encourage you to talk about your NSFW drawings ... of him

and once that topic is brought, you better take the day off tomorrow. because zayne is down bad and the fact that you fantasize about him only makes it ten times worse

he'll drop that gentleman act real quick. for the rest of the night, he's shameless, direct with his desires and very very needy. you won't find the doctor zayne anymore -- you'll have to wait until the next morning

caleb

we all know this man is going to jerk off to your NSFW drawings about you two first. he's shameless, using his imagination and yearning for you to get himself off

in fact, he's going to purposely let some of his cum stain the drawings, just so you know he has discovered this pile of gold and that he is purposely teasing you

like zayne, caleb wants you to come forward with the truth of your desires for them. but unlike zayne, caleb turns his longing into something more dark, more possessive, less controlled

he loves the roleplay of pushing your buttons until you beg him to fill you up. so if your drawings are the truth of your yearning for caleb, then he must hear it

and once you voice your needs, he ain't letting you go until every single drawing is reenacted

sylus

i believe that this man, out of all the lads, is a true menace. a real brat that was created to genuinely tease you until oblivion

he won't even hide the fact that he discovered your secrets, your interesting drawings ; he'll display them on the table while he sits prettily on the couch, a smug grin plastered on his face

once he sees you, tells you that there is something really important to talk about. it's a trap and there is no way that you can escape : once you sees what the important issue is, it's already too late

starts to tease you by saying just how shameless you can be, imagining and drawing him such erotic and filthy ways. then starts to go about how he's being such a bad boyfriend by not noticing how aroused and horny you were, how he has failed you by not giving into your desires

then jumps into the details : how you drew his cock, or his abs, or the sex position for you two. wants to hear you go into full details of how you imagined it, how you want him to fuck you, and why you kept it hidden from him

and of course, that question is another trap : the moment you try to explain why you kept it hidden, sylus already knows the 2 possible endings. either you wiggle your way out, completely submissive to his questionings, or you act all defensive and he finds it entirely adorable

in any case, he's bending you over the couch. you already know his aether core is acting up after seeing your NSFW drawings of him and you two together. you ain't leaving his hold until the hypnotizing red light in his eye dims down

xavier

you just made him the happiest man in the entire universe. you drew xavier and not lumiere ? you might as well just lay down and be ready

he's practically glowing with happiness, quite literally too. the moment you come home to him, you see orbs of lights floating around, the house is incredibly warm, soft and welcoming

you know what else is welcoming you ? xavier's cock, fully hard and ready to make love to you. because those drawings means you love and need him -- that's already enough for xavier

also the type to keep it secret just for him. in fact, you yourself won't be able to see those drawings ever again. it's his and his alone. he'll also demand that you draw more as gifts for him

also the type to fuck you while you are creating those NSFW drawings. goes fast when you are resting your hand, goes slow and deep when you are drawing the lines. then has the audacity to smirk while telling you to focus

rafayel

like sylus, he's obviously going to tease you. miss cutie is drawing him ? in such filthy way too ? oh, he's for sure admiring your skills, the details, the techniques

he's not letting go of this pleasant discovery too. you can expect rafayel to drop his current projects (unfortunately for thomas) and start painting NSFW of you and you two

he'll wait for you to ask him why he's painting such erotic graphics, and only then will he say : "since we have both become each other's muse, i only thought it fair that we use this inspiration to its full potential, cutie"

he'll keep his responses vague and constantly hinting at your NSFW drawings. he wants you to admit it so that he can finally act on his desires

the same way that he absolutely worships you, he wants you to be as obsessed too -- it's only fair and logical

also, he's definitely going to fuck you through the drawing and instructions process. not only is he going to start teaching you different techniques, but he's also going to coach you about the positions and your curves

think for example : your back pressed against his firm chest, his cock buried deep inside you, you're kneeling and rafayel's slender finger is circling your clit. at the same time, he's whispering against your damp skin : "see the way your arch so beautifully for me, cutie ? you need to draw add that detail in your drawing, baby", or "touch here. can you feel how deep i am ? what about your curves here ? you need to draw those too, cutie"

This time is even more precious though. There’s more of him you’re discovering. Of course, there’s the usual: his warmth, his softness but now there’s hints of roughness. Roughness that you should be discovering anywhere but here.

When he sighs into your mouth, you forget about your worries.

It was meant to be a late night at the Association for you. You’d planned to finish your report and hand it in today, even if it meant being the last one out of the office. You were almost there, there was just a few more pages left to fill in, but then another chair rolled up next to you and soon you were coaxed into taking a well-needed break.

Somehow, this break meant sitting in your boyfriend’s lap and kissing him like you’d never have the chance to again. At your workplace. His one too. The one where you share the same colleagues and report to similar higher ups and have to look at one another with a straight face after this.

It’s quiet in the office, it’s far too dark and there’s only the glow of a few hologram displays nearby that illuminate your knitted figures. Beyond the doors there’s voices, there’s meetings, and here you both are. 

Shivers run down your spine when his fingers skim over it, and heat plummets in you when you consider how close he is to you. This is all too much for your first time kissing him like this, but your hands thread through his soft locks anyway and his other hand grips onto your thigh for support when you tug.

And he’s— God, you can feel how much he loves this. It makes your head spin when you realise how far you’ve gone now, but Xavier’s there to keep you grounded. His fingers press into your back, his palm brushes up your thigh, finds the curve of your silhouette, and you whimper when his tongue meets yours.

It takes your absolute full strength to pull yourself away, your body begs to stay in his embrace, but you know you’re pushing it now. You clear your throat, eyes adjusting to the dark when you whisper, “Xavier, we— I’m not sure if—”

But the words are stuck in your throat when you gaze down at him. Serene blue eyes pierce through despite how heavy-lidded they are, you see the way his lips are coated in a mixture of you and him and his heartbeat can be heard over the cars and civilians bustling just outside.

It’s fast, it’s so unbelievably fast, and that’s all because of you.

Xavier’s chest is heaving, and alongside his heartbeat comes the sound of hushed pants pushing past slicked lips. You've got one arm braced on his shoulder, and he leans into your forearm, seeking your touch. He’s quiet for a moment, just to catch his breath, and finally his voice comes into focus.

“We can stop. I’ll follow your lead.” It comes out in a broken whisper, struggles to find its footing between a steady tone and sweet quietness, and that also sends heat pooling between your thighs. 

You see the eager shine in his eyes, the silent plea that restrains him, and God he’s too pretty. You don’t want to stop— you can’t. You lean back in, and he’s there. His hand stays firm on your back, your thighs keep him in place beneath you and only the sounds of strained whimpers, reverent sighs and chair squeaking float from your cubicle.

You’d started it, really. Xavier had simply stopped by to check in on you, give your mind a rest from battle jargon. He’d slipped you a small kiss, a promise of seeing you soon, but something took over you. You kissed back, a little harder, and he’d been more than keen to reciprocate. 

Tomorrow you’ll blame it on the atmosphere and the thrill of being caught.

No one could blame you though. Xavier had been so sweet and gentle with you thus far, but you knew you were approaching your breaking point. His presence was always too close for you to be able to ignore him - he was on your mind more often than not. Being left alone with thoughts of Xavier meant wondering about the sides of him you hadn’t seen yet.

When he bites on the plush of your lip, you’re grateful that today’s the day you finally get to learn so much more. When you whimper from the delirious sting, his palm kneads into the softness of your ass and coaxes another whimper out of you.

You’re about to whine, to ask him for more - you’re not even quite sure what that may be yet - but the sound of footsteps draw close and soon the door to the office is being opened.

Light breaks through and tears apart the harmonious blacks and blues previously streaked across the room. Heat dissipates from you, your head spins, but you’re alone in your chair now. Xavier’s neatly arranged you back onto your chair, spun you round the right way and hidden himself somewhere.

You make eye contact with the colleague who’s just walked in and give a quaint smile, trying to appear as though your heart rate was completely normal.

You think Xavier’s teleported, but when you roll your chair closer to your desk a hand places itself on your thigh. You jolt at the feeling, and thank the stars above that your colleague is busy at their own desk.

His touch kicks in some sort of survival instinct; you try to subtly re-arrange yourself. You pat down your clothes, glance at the reflection in the monitor and tame stray hairs. It’s probably too late for that, but anything is better than thinking about Xavier’s hand that is… far too close for you to be normal about.

A quick peer under your desk shows you a sight you’re not prepared for.

He’s not even looking at you. He’s not trying to. His eyes are fixated on his hand, the one that rests higher up than it has before. His cheeks are flushed, his ears burn red, and his chest rises and falls in quick succession. He’s beautifully dishevelled and the definition of bliss.

It takes him a moment to realise you’re watching him, and Xavier slowly glances up. There’s a flicker of surprise, like you’d stumbled across a private moment, but it morphs into the sweetest of smiles. One that speaks of innocence and carries a hint of guilt.

When you shut your legs in realisation, he flops his forehead against your knee. Your body jolts, and he places a small kiss in apology.

ଳ⋆˚࿔ rafayel

“You know, I really think it’s unnecessary for you to buy a new outfit everytime you get paint on your clothes.”

“What do you have in mind then, cutie?”

“I don’t know… Maybe try a washing machine, or hand washing them. Or having a set only for when you paint so it doesn’t matter if it gets a bit messy. Maybe even—“

There’s a zipping sound just past the curtain, accompanied by a flurry of movements. “In order to paint, I need to be just like my canvas. Completely clear, brand new, ready to be washed in colours. Besides, I think a certain someone enjoys these little shopping trips, wouldn’t you agree?”

You scoff and cross your arms, scrutinising the figure behind the curtain. Like always, Rafayel had dirtied another pristine white set of his and begged you to accompany him shopping. He should have been perfectly aware you’d be against the trip - it’s not like you bought a new uniform every time you fought a wanderer - but he’d only taunted you and said he’d happily buy you one each time if you asked.

You’d gone round and round in circles, never learning to not make eye contact with a pretty shirt or tailored pants hung on display. He’d always somehow catch on and immediately be adding the piece onto the forever growing pile of clothes in your arms. 

“Why is it that when we go shopping for you, I’m the one who has to carry stuff?” you’d asked.

“I’m too weak to carry them. I’m tired. Isn’t my bodyguard supposed to do this?” He’d replied, not without a flick to his forehead. 

He’s lucky he’s cute.

You have to press your lips into a thin line when you think about his infuriatingly teasing expression - you can’t reinforce this behaviour. It’s not been very long since you started dating, but you think Rafayel already knows his charms work too easily on you. 

“Prepared to be blown away, cutie?”

“Show me what you got.”

In all honesty, you’re not really prepared. He’s styled in a silky white blouse and crisp black trousers, and whilst it’s a colour scheme you’ve seen him in before you’re still getting used to how pretty he can be. The lavender hues of his hair are striking in contrast, the blues and pinks in his eyes beam at you - only ever for you - and blush lips spread into a stupid smirk.

He’s going to be the death of you, and he knows it.

Your eyes drift and catch onto the detailed embroidery neatly displayed on the blouse. A motif of seashells and foam trail over his shoulder, down his chest and wrap around his waist. You don’t remember picking this one, and you’re intrigued. 

“That’s… actually really nice on you.”

Rafayel shakes his head, and pouts at you. “Are you surprised?”

You can’t think clearly, too focused on the intricacies, so you step forward and your hands begin to trace over the embroidery. You skim over the bold print, and learn the neat stitches story. From top to bottom, you admire the little details in it. There’s tiny crabs that scuttle over, specks of fish that waft through and coral that dance beneath your fingertips.

A hand catches your wrist. When you look up from the embroidery, a blushing Rafayel fills your view. He’s looking away, another pout pressing into his lips, and your breath catches. You’re about to apologise, you didn’t realise just how in his space you were. It dawns on you then that you’d been touching him too, the thinness of the blouse hadn’t concerned you in the slightest, oh—

It happens quickly, and you’re disorientated for a second. He’s pulled you into the changing room with him, a small space made for one really. The curtain is drawn behind you, and Rafayel moves from gripping your wrist to lacing his fingers through yours.

His voice is hushed when he says, “If you wanted a feel, cutie, you could’ve just asked.”

You’re floundering through apologies, and he’s quick to shush you. There’s not much room for you here, and he knows it. He takes one—two steps towards you, and you naturally scuffle backwards. Soon your back is pressed against the wall, and Rafayel has you where he wants. His eyes flit between your eyes to your lips.

For the first time since you got here, it’s silent. There’s the bumbling of customers just outside the cubicle, and you can’t help but gulp at the intensity of his eyes. He’s watching you keenly, and you feel hot under his gaze. You’re about to open your mouth, another apology ready to be said, but he disrupts you.

It’s eerily gentle, the way in which he finally speaks. A soft whisper of “Please, can I?” is all it takes for you to abandon any concerns about his feelings. He’s more than fine, you realise.

His pink cheeks speak of want, his eyes sparkle with desire and you’re more than happy to apologise for invading his space with a soft kiss.

It’s wouldn’t be the first time, of course. You’ve kissed him plenty of times before, but something has you questioning if gentleness is all he wants today. You think it’s the lack of room, the way he’s hazily watching you, his open clavicle you’re suddenly too aware of.

The sound of conversation nearby reminds you that you’re in public - what if a worker walked in and questioned the two pairs of shoes peaking from under the curtain?

Still. You can’t deny him because you don’t want to. He’s asked so nicely too; it was rare for him to be polite. That’s the kind of behaviour you should be rewarding.

You respond with a chaste kiss, delicate and sweet as always. It dawns on you, though, that this was the wrong move. Your earlier intuition was right, because soon Rafayel’s hand is pinning your wrist low against the wall. His other hand latches onto your cheek, softly pressed into your skin, and you’re drowning in him. 

It takes a moment for your brain to reboot, but when you’re finally there it’s a quiet match filled with pleasurable sighs and hushed whimpers. He takes the lead and flourishes you in harsh kisses, and your hand struggles to not scrunch into his pretty blouse. 

When his tongue slides into yours, your brain short-circuits and you’re tugging him closer, harder, into you. You can feel him smirk into the kiss, and it sends a wave of lightheadedness floating through.

With each kiss, each pang of dizziness, comes the steady collection of slick between your legs, you gasp. It’s too soon to be feeling like this, yes this was a lot more of a passionate kiss than usual, but it was embarrassing nonetheless. You just hope he hasn’t caught on, because you’re more than aware that you’ll be endlessly teased by him.

He pulls away from you, and a string of saliva connects his lips to yours. He’s panting, and your knees buckle from the heavy look he gives you. You see how quickly Rafayel’s eyes flash with realisation, and he’s caught between a laugh and moan - a ragged sound that has you shuddering. You stare at him helplessly, borderline needy, and he’s nodding and catching you once more.

When he closes in on you again, he purrs into your ear, “I’ve got you, pretty baby.” Any sound you could make from the new name is muffled by his lips reaching yours again. His knee slots perfectly between your thighs, and a quiet moan manages to escape from you at the sudden pressure.

He kisses you again, and again, before pulling away once more.

“Is this okay?” Rafayel asks, and you want to laugh. Instead, you clumsily nod, and his thumb caresses your cheek. His voice is wrecked, his skin hot on yours, and the way he’s still watching you drives you crazy. You can’t help but buck against his knee, the undivided attention overwhelmingly delightful to you, and that…

Rafayel’s eyes flutter watching you. He can’t stay away anymore, and soon he’s back on you. He kisses your mouth, your jaw, your neck, and commits each sound you make to his mind.

He’s definitely buying this shirt.

₊°｡❆ zayne

“Thanks for inviting me out, Zayne. Even if your taste in fusion cuisine is skewed, I had fun.”

“I feel like you’re teasing me. As I recall, someone was perfectly happy trying out my meal. I distinctly remember a few bites missing from my own plate each time I looked away.”

You squint your eyes at him. “Well. It sounds to me like someone doesn’t want a kiss goodbye.”

Zayne laughs, but you're stoic and refuse to break character. You look away and twist your body away from him too. There’s only so much space in the passenger seat though, so this is the most brutal move you can pull as he drives you home.

He calls your name a few times, and you still refuse to speak. It's only when his hand shifts from the gearstick to your thigh that you acknowledge him.

“I’m sorry. It seems I mistook you for a little mouse,” he says, mirthful eyes focused on your figure after pulling up to a traffic light.

You huff and nod earnestly. “That’s right. I would never take your food without asking. Especially not for something so… sweet.”

He smiles softly and moves his hand back onto the gearstick, driving off and closer to your home. It returns back to your thigh, and your hand clasps over it.

That is, until you hear a quiet, “And yet, everything on your plate was clear.”

When you pull his hand off your thigh and softly throw it elsewhere, he apologises endlessly as you refuse to engage.

It’s a quick drive, and you hate it. Even though he can be so mean, you want to spend every second with Zayne regardless. You miss him the moment you’re apart, and you’re not ready to feel that.

The universe clearly doesn’t care though, because the sight of your apartment building sends your heart dropping. You think he feels it too. The air chills ever so slightly, and there’s a lingering silence as the car finally stops. You turn to face him, heart panging when you catch his mournful expression.

“Thank you,” is all that comes from your mouth. If you say goodbye, then you have to leave, and you’re really not ready yet.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, but then Zayne’s leaning over the console towards you. His voice is full of quiet and wrapped in silk when he murmurs, “It doesn’t have to be a kiss-goodbye.”

“No? What should it be then.”

“…A kiss see-you-later.”

You laugh and he smiles with you, a little meek and pink. Your hands come up and cradle his cheeks, squishing them as your move his head side to side. He doesn’t resist, letting you coo and squeeze him as you please.

“You’re such a romantic. Fine, let’s have a ‘kiss see-you-later’ then.” Your eyes flutter shut as Zayne leans closer. His lips move against yours softly, and one hand come to rest at your nape.

The kiss is sweet, as it usually is. You’ve only ever known tenderness with him. It’s always been that way with Zayne though - his love is quiet but firm. His presence has always been soothing; he’s never been a problem in all the time you’ve known him, only a solution.

Perhaps that’s why tonight you want more.

You’re tentative at first, your hand rising and hesitating before finally settling on his tie. It wraps around the cloth as you feel Zayne about to move away. You know he’s about to ask what’s wrong, but courage takes over and you’re tugging him closer.

You hear surprise as he’s dragged into you. A sudden “mmph” breaks between the sound of slick lips moving together, and that… It’s a sound you’ll remember for the rest of your life. You’re not sure how you’ve ever been able to live without it before.

You want to hear so much more.

Your curiosity about the soft doctor wins, and encourages you to kiss harder, faster, rougher. And Zayne— he only struggles for a second. The change isn’t too much for him, not when he’s spent years fantasising about having you like this.

He’s beyond grateful that you’ve reached this point of comfort with him. After all, there’s nothing more that Zayne wants than to learn everything you like, and help you with whatever you need. Judging by the way your hand tightens against his tie, the quiet whimpers that escape when his tongue slips into your mouth, he understands that you’ve needed this for a while.

—At least he thinks he understands, because any sort of confidence Zayne had in taking the lead from you is banished when you suckle on his tongue, savouring honey and sage as you go. Your lungs burn for air, but you keep a steady pace at licking out any whimper or gasp you can from him.

You’re impressed with how he keeps up with you, he never once tries to pull away from your touch. Your hand comes up to cradle the back of his head and you giggle when you feel the hot tip of his ear sear against your palm as you move past. Zayne simply squeezes his eyes shut, humiliation rolling in waves.

When you disconnect for some air, you finally get to see his flushed pink ears, the slack jaw that shallowly takes in each breath. His shirt’s crumpled from each drag of his tie, pulled taut from your desperation to melt into him, and yet he’s never looked so much like himself. Like Zayne was made to be used as you please.

He slowly gulps, eyebrows twitching as he tries to compose himself. “I—“ He inhales deeply, eyes flitting from your hand that still clutches onto his tie and back to your face. “…That—“

You groan as you slump back onto your seat, and it’s a mixture of pent-up energy and laughter. Zayne eyes you curiously, heart still racing and on edge as he anticipates - hopes for - your next pounce.

Your hand stays fiddling with the end of his tie.

“You’re so cute Dr. Zayne, did you know that?” There’s no earnest teasing or wide-eyed compliment that follows. Instead you watch him carefully, letting each syllable hit hard as they lazily drag past your lips.

You can’t help feeling smug when you see how baffled he is, all twitchy and red in the face.

After a moment of silence, he finally sighs and shakes his head. “You’re… relentless.”

“You’re just realising that?”

You lurch towards him, lips immediately finding his, and It feels deliriously good to be close to him again. For a brief moment, you’re mourning leaving the car - you’re not prepared to return to a life where Zayne isn’t kissing you rough and fast, just like this, but he moans when another whimper leaves you, and your brain short-circuits entirely.

Holy shit.

It’s what makes you jolt forward, your hips fighting against the rigidness of leather beneath you and eager for Zayne to be there instead. Your hand frantically skims on the underside of his tie, reaching the knot. It takes a little fiddling, but your fingers are soon digging in and prying the knot loose.

Everything shifts; your mixed pants grow heavier, needier, and even Zayne’s hands begin to lift and seek a place to clutch. The car’s windows fog, condensed entirely from keen whines and aching groans. Finally, fuck finally , your hands smooth over his burning skin beneath and—

Honk!

You jump away from one another as the sound blares from the car. Your eyes jump from Zayne to the car horn, and when you see his elbow hovering near it you can’t help bursting out laughing.

And Zayne… He’s entirely mortified. He feels the way his skin flushes, the sensation of blood rushing and pooling into his cheeks and ears - but watching you laugh in front of him helps. Perhaps that’s why he laughs with you too.

It takes a while for you both to calm down, the nerves of harsh kisses and loud horns still coursing adrenaline through your beings. Soon, a comforting ambiance of softened pants takes over.

Between shallow breaths, Zayne tries to calmly say, “That was— one way of having a kiss see-you-later.”

There’s a teasing lilt to his voice that tries to reason with you, and perhaps coyness should have visited you then, but the sight of the usually collected man before you panting and blushing with his clothes roughed by your very hands was enough to keep it away.

Instead your shoulders shake with laughter, and you shake your head.

“You really are too cute, Dr. Zayne,” you hum, and his ears somehow redden further. “Should I be worried though? Does that mean you didn’t enjoy it?

“On the contrary, I loved it.”

And you’re not sure, but from the look in his eye you have more than enough reason to spend the rest of your night overthinking that statement.

.ִֶָ ♱ ་༘࿐ sylus

You feel a tap against the back of your hand, the one that was busy scrounging into the fabric of your jeans as you rambled, and you look up.

His voice drips with sweetness, like it always does, when he says, “Take your time, sweetie. Try again.”

You turn your hands over, catching his fingers in your grasp and giving them a squeeze. You’re all too aware that your palm feels sweaty, but Sylus doesn’t pull away and you know he doesn’t care. He just wants to listen, like he always does.

“I—” One breath in, one breath out. “—kept dreaming of these, and you were always there in those dreams. I think it’s because I’ve seen a few of them when we’re out at night. It’s funny, the meaning of them isn’t exactly great but still, I thought you’d like them. I’ve actually been growing and tending them myself. For you.”

You lift his hand to your lips, pressing a soft kiss to the smooth knuckles there before swapping your hand out for the bouquet of dark flowers. The veins of his hands pop against the pink silk bow tying the bunch together, and you squirm trying to gauge his reaction.

Sylus doesn’t seem to notice, though. He’s focused on the flowers, and the adoration you’d seen him enter the room with is enhanced tenfold. There’s a sweet glow in the vermillion of his eyes, but the muscles beneath tense ever so slightly.

Perhaps they were too girlish? You cringe upon reflection, gaze fleeing towards the fireplace the two of you are sat before as you ponder. The big boss man who lords over the N109 Zone being gifted pretty flowers was maybe a little too ridiculous.

You rush to save the moment. “They’re called daturas. Apparently they symbolise power, caution and spiritual transformation. Obviously, the power and caution speak for themselves— I swear I didn’t just grow them because I thought they just looked nice. Mm, I guess the spiritual transformation doesn’t quite fit, but—“

His gruff laugh silences you, and the worries you had dissipate right before you. He’s smiling in his arrogant way once more, and you can’t find the stiffness previously etched in his muscles.

Perhaps you were simply in your head about it.

“My soul found yours and I finally felt peace. I’d say that’s rather fitting, wouldn’t you agree? In any case, I like cute things too. If I didn’t, there wouldn’t be a sweet kitten staying at the Onychinus base.”

You can only blink at him with parted lips as his words wash over you. Trust Sylus to take your romantic moment and make it his own.

“So you like them?”

“I do. It’d be rude of me to dislike this bunch when my balcony is already overflowing with all the flowers you’ve brought over.” He tilts his head just behind, but it’s an unnecessary movement. The trails of flowers and the petals that can’t help but detach have been flowing in and out of the room the entire time you’ve been here.

You certainly have left your mark here.

Sylus’s gaze sweeps from you to the daturas still in his hand. He gently whispers, “After all, these ones were specifically tended to just for me,” before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

When you look up, you’re shrouded in him. You’re not sure when the two of you had moved closer together, but the enamoured look on his face has you leaning in for a kiss. You feel shy asking like this, no words exchanged, but he’s always telling you to go for what you want.

You hear him gently lay the flowers beside him before he scoops you onto his lap.

You shriek at the sudden movement, eyes jolting open, but Sylus pays no mind. His hand trails the dip of your waist, and your eyebrows scrunch together ever so slightly at the sudden confidence. You flit between either of his rouge eyes, noting the half-lidded expression, and your heart stutters.

The flames from his fireplace crinkle behind the two of you, and your knees dig into the plush of his rug as your body steadily settles on his lap.

His voiced is hushed, “Did you notice anything when you were caring for the daturas?” His breath fans over your skin, reaches past your neck and tickles the ends of your hairs. You’re on high alert, still adjusting to the sight of Sylus so close to you, and you jolt from the feeling.

His grip on your waist tightens ever so slightly - a warning that falls on deaf ears, much like the futile question itself.

Each word was muffled in the haze of the warmth you now share, your mind too busy scrambling and desperately trying to find footing in this shift between the two of you.

Sylus watches you far too intensely the entire time.

Did anything happen? You knew they were toxic so you did your best to wear the necessary protection needed to tend to them. You were thorough in washing your hands after too. Sure, there were times you were somewhat dizzy and had to sit down, but that was all.

Honest.

When you still don’t respond, he continues, “They’re known to be hallucinogens.” His hand engulfs one of yours, dragging it to the curve of his cheek. Sylus presses his cheek into the soft of your palm, eyes fixated on you. “Even the smallest amount of pollen can have an effect. You mentioned dreams of them, and even said I was there.”

His head tilts, and the brush of his lips against sensitive skin tickles ever so slightly. There’s an edge of mirth in his voice when he whispers against your palm, “What were they like, sweetie?”

Ah.

It seems he may know a lot more about daturas than you did.

Residue from the petals you’d been caressing before his arrival sweep over his skin, melting between the point of contact between the two of you.

Your head spins.

On one hand, you’re glad that your keen eye meant you’d stumbled upon Sylus’s favourite flower. A part of you swells with pride at getting that right - they truly were a good gift then. On the other hand, you’re both stepping over a line that has only ever been treaded along. You know exactly what he’s asking, but the teasing tone in his voice tells you you can end this new game now if you’d like.

You’re… not sure if you want to.

A gust of wind billows from the balcony, and the once energetic fire is tamed. With the wind comes the scent of daturas that flutter around your figures. Your body reacts before your mind catches on, and you’re biting his lip between yours and drawing blood.

He groans into your mouth, and only then does a singular thought cut through - this is rougher than how you usually kiss him. You can’t quite remember what usually kissing Sylus means though, because roughly kissing him feels like it’s always been second nature.

Your mind fuzzes and swirls with notes of Sylus’ cologne and sour pollen. The heat of his lips never fades - he’s so warm and close and entirely yours if you’d like.

He meets your pace now, matches the brutality of your lips, and the room echoes of whimpers and groans. You pull on the softness of his hair, your other hand having snuck its way to the nape of his hair. He groans and grips tightly onto your waist, which only makes you gasp and jut forward.

You hear him grit his teeth, restraint oozes out of every fibre in his body, and that only makes you moan. Each brush of his lips and caress of his tongue drives you mad, like there’s a never-ending ache that can’t be satiated even with his touch. Not tonight, at least.

When you reluctantly pull away for air, Sylus huffs a laugh seeing the blooming crimson on your lips. It’s a scratchier sound than usual; his pupils are dilated beyond belief and the creeping realisation that you are the sole reason for his flushed skin sends your mind reeling.

You’re lost in the heat of your desire for him, you don’t think for a second, and suddenly you’re pushing him down. He admires you above him, memorises the way the light is consumed by your dark figure, and merely smirks.

Sat atop him, you snake one hand over his chest. You feel the thrum of his heart beneath your palm. When you slide your hand further up the curve of his neck, you feel the intense spike of his pulse. It dawns on you right then that his arrogance is all for show.

He’s just as lost in you.

Your plant your hands on either side of his head, the marble cool against your palms. You duck down and catch his bottom lip between your teeth once more, and Sylus works to keep up with you. You’re relentless, taking everything he can give you and more.

With each gasp and heavy breath comes the quick inhalation of daturas, and you fall into a never-ending cycle of consuming one another.

. ݁ ❦ ˖ caleb

You try not to sigh as Caleb keeps talking, it’s like he doesn’t even care about being somewhat alert tomorrow. For someone who loves to mention his position as Colonel, often as a meaningless scare-tactic to keep you from snooping where he thinks you shouldn’t, he really didn’t seem to care about actually maintaining the role.

“—And then there was that time you would not stop crying until your dear Caleb came back to you. You were so clingy, though I guess you still are, huh?”

You don’t bother tilting your chin up from the comfy spot you’ve found on his chest. There’s no point responding or making eye contact when he’ll just continue prattling about the old days - and trust, you liked reminiscing just as much as him! - but it’s 1am and you just want to sleep.

“Caleb.”

“Yeah, pips?”

“Go to sleep.”

He shuffles beneath you, jostling your leg that had been perfectly slung over his own thigh. You grumble as you mould yourself back into his side, trying to find the perfect angle in this cuddle pile you’d created.

Perhaps sleepovers in Skyhaven should be off the table until Caleb learns some etiquette.

You hear him tut, an offending sound that resonates in the crisp of his bedroom. You try not to roll your eyes, because you’re pretty sure you’ll hear a lecture about that if he so much as hears it.

If the tut wasn’t enough, he makes sure to heavily lay on the (fake) hurt when he mentions, “There was a time when you listened to my every word, you know. What happened to that?”

Your eyes roll anyway, and the dredge of sleep crawls back over you. “I genuinely have no idea where you’ve got that from.”

“Pips, I literally just told you about those times. Weren’t you listening?” Caleb says, and you can literally hear the pout in his voice. He shuffles again, and you grumble in response. “Okay, from the top! So, back then—“

Your head whips up and catches sight of an overly awake Caleb whose eyes dreamily stare at the ceiling. He’s happily chirping away, like the minutes on the alarm clock next to him mean fuck all.

You’re too grouchy for this.

There’s only a small bite to your words when you groan, “Oh my God, Caleb! Shut up!” Any hurt he could experience is immediately soothed over, because you’re dragging yourself upwards and planting your elbows on either side of him.

Your hands cradle his face as you press your lips against one cheek, then the other, his forehead, his nose and finally a sweet peck on his lips. You’re more than relieved when you pull back and see he’s been stunned into silence.

You put on your best stern expression, and squish his cheeks together. One pat, then another, and you think he’s finally gotten the hint, so you slither down to your cosy spot on his chest and rest your eyes.

…It’s a bit difficult to actually settle though when the person below you won’t shut the fuck up!

“Caleb.”

“Yeah, pips?”

And God, he’s actually smug— he’s not even trying to hide it. You grit your teeth when you realise he probably thinks he’s the smartest man in the world; annoy his partner enough and they’ll kiss him quiet, that’ll do it.

You sigh deeply as the realisation strikes you.

Apparently the dog tag wasn’t enough to satisfy his overeager, puppy-like behaviour clearly. It’s become very obvious to you now that Caleb may need some actual training.

So you push yourself up, rubbing the sleep out your eyes. There’s a bleary smirk wiped across his features, the dumbest, dopiest look ever that you can so easily distinguish in the dark of his room, and something simmers within you.

You don’t say anything as you move closer, you’re gentle with your movements and Caleb waits patiently. You settle your entire weight on him, pressing your torso flush against his, and his hands hesitate before naturally come to rest on your back.

You don’t react despite how intimate the position is. You’re too tired to feel embarrassed.

Sure, you’ve cuddled with Caleb plenty before, but this version is entirely different. Your hips are spread, legs parted and pressing into his side. You’re practically folded on top of him like this, and you recognise one shift could change the entire trajectory of your night.

It’s comfortable though, the stretch is more than pleasant and you moan a little from the sensation. You feel Caleb tense beneath you, and you feel triumphant.

He relaxes once you’re settled, no doubt revelling in the intimacy of the cuddle. He has no reason to question your motives when you dig your chin into his collarbone, sweetly resting your face in the crook of his neck. Instead, he softly laughs.

“I’m not sure if you realise, but my voice is only gonna seem louder if you’re higher up like this,” he teases.

You merely shake your head, keeping your voice light as you murmur, “I know. That’s okay, because you aren’t gonna talk anymore.”

“Is that so?” He juts his chin away, trying to get a look at you. “Why’s that?”

You raise your head, fluidly connecting your lips with his. You feel him smile into the kiss, no doubt feeling beyond loved with how soft and warm this all felt. He was so clever, of course he’d somehow outsmarted you and gotten what he wanted.

Right?

It’s abrupt the way in which you lunge; you tug at the bottom of his lip and take advantage of the gasp that escapes. He’s barely found a second to place a hand on your face when you’re immediately licking into his mouth, savouring mint and hot wetness as you slide your tongue along his.

Finally, his hands tremble on the nape of your neck, and you press yourself infinitely closer. The feel of warm, slick muscle and hushed breaths has you both moaning into one another - your head spins as you realise there are prettier sounds that can come from Caleb.

Before you can balance yourself to launch your next attack, Caleb takes the lead and suckles gently on your tongue. He’s confident suddenly; his once shaky hand resting comfortably and pulling you closer to him, an act you didn’t even think was possible at this point.

You squeeze your eyes shut at the feeling, unable to keep your whines at bay.

It’s filthy, the sounds of squelching and whimpering that resound has you scrambling to keep up. You refuse to let this become his moment - this was meant to be your punishment after all.

You clench onto the fabric of his shirt, a frantic move accompanied by your groans and his sighs. His hands stay infuriatingly polite, simply resting on the barest slither of skin available to him - but you know he wants more. You can practically feel his hands itching to at least press the pads of his fingers deeply into your skin.

To trace you, to breathe you in and consume you entirely is all Caleb wants. You’re more than aware of that - with memories of the old days comes the recognition of knowing you’d felt the same way too even back then. He’s always wanted you, and you him.

You hike your leg higher up in an attempt to stabilise yourself. Your knee drags against his waist and you feel him jerk from the change.

It’s a singular move that causes a sudden spiral because your heat rests against him entirely and— oh God, he was so big, wait—

“Pips– I—“ One kiss, another, you grip his hair and he moans into your mouth. “We should— Hah, we should— stop.” And really, it comes out weakly, a slurred command that has no precedent over when you decide this ends.

Could he feel your clit throbbing against his cock? Was he desperately trying to stop himself from rutting into you?

You rock gently, just once and ever so subtly between every flick of your tongue against his, and try not to grin when you feel the air knocked out of his lungs.

Poor Caleb, he must be losing his mind trying to restrain himself.

For a moment you pity him, but then his voice hums between kisses and logic suddenly kicks in. You can practically hear all the excuses he’d use to explain getting this far - it’s always you being too innocent, or not understanding what you’re doing.

The thought enrages you, and it’s enough to remind you why you’d started this in the first place.

There’s an itch inside of you that begs to continue, to ignore your dignity and use him as you please - you could prove him wrong, show him just how pissed off you are and satisfy your needs at the same time.

You really do want to do that.

Hm.

Caleb whispers your name, a sound that sends you into a realm beyond here with him.

And yet, somehow, you crawl right back.

You chirp a quick goodnight and scramble under the covers, turning away as you nestle into your side of the bed. You’ve barely caught your breath, but feeling the tenseness of Caleb beside you has you giggling and catching it back all at once.

“Night Colonel! See you after work.”

a/n: i forgot to add this here but pls plssss tell me if any of this was ok!! i hope it wasn’t too ooc ><

His jaw drops just a fraction. A flash of indignant, bratty frustration flickers in his eyes, but it’s instantly drowned by the hunger staring up at you. He looks wrecked.

There’s a hint of the ancient creature he truly is as he watches you settle back against the pillows. Slowly you spread your thighs to offer him the view he’s been starving for.

He lets out a choked noise and collapses to his knees. He hits the mattress with a heavy thud, his head dipping low until he’s hovering just inches from your cunt.

"Please..." he whimpers again. It’s such a pathetic sound coming from someone so devastatingly handsome.

When you hook two fingers into your folds, spreading yourself wide for him, he actually flinches. His breath hitches, a sharp intake of air that whistles through his teeth. He stares, mesmerized, watching the way you glisten in the dim light. Between his legs, his cock pulses visibly, weeping a bead of moisture that mirrors your own readiness. He looks like he might actually combust right there.

Then, you bring out the toy.

The soft, rhythmic hum of the small vibrator cuts through the silence of the room. His gaze tracks the movement of the device, his eyes darting from the buzzing plastic to the way your flesh reacts to the contact. He licks his lips, fighting the impulse to just dive in and devour you.

"You wanted me to use my toy, didn't you?" you tease, the vibration making your voice tremble just a little.

He lets out a breathless laugh, though there isn't a shred of humor in his eyes only a terrifying amount of want. He has to swallow hard, his Adam's apple bobbing convulsively in his throat.

"I did... I do," he confesses, his voice dropping into a honeyed register that vibrates deep in his chest. He might actually lose his fucking mind if he doesn't taste you soon. "Fuck, just look at you... so wet and ready. You're not making this easy, cutie. You're trying to kill me, aren't you? Just to see if a Lemurian can actually die of longing?"

He leans forward, his nose brushing against your clit, inhaling deeply.

"Let me," he pleads, his breath hot and damp against your sensitive skin. "Stop teasing and let me have you."

He’s trapped in a trance, his eyes glued to the way the plastic tip nudges and probes at your entrance, parting the slickness of your folds with agonizing precision.

When he finally breaks eye contact to look up at you, gone is the poised artist, in his place is a man stripped bare by desire, his eyes wide and shimmering with a desperate sort of prayer. He’s begging for permission, waiting for that single nod of approval that will allow him to descend into holy madness.

"I need to feel you cum on my tongue," the words catch in his throat. He sounds half starved. "Then maybe... maybe I can focus enough to watch you fuck yourself with your toy until you cum again."

When you press the humming weight directly against your clit, the reaction is instantaneous. Your spine snaps taut, back arching off the sheets in an involuntary spasm of pleasure. From his vantage point he sees everything, the way your push your breast together, the way your muscles ripple and quiver, and the helpless way your pussy clenches around empty air, searching for something to hold onto.

He loses the battle with his restraint. A groan rips from his chest as his hands fly to your thighs. His long, elegant fingers, usually so delicate when he holds a paintbrush, sink into your soft flesh with bruising force, anchoring you to the bed.

"Oh fuuuck, look at her..." he whispers against your inner thigh "So desperate for stimulation. You need something to fill her up, don't you, cutie?"

The filthiness of the comment is accidental, a byproduct of the fever raging in his blood but it hits exactly where it needs to.

He doesn’t wait for an answer. He doesn’t have the patience for it.

The second you offer the toy to him, glistening with the heat of your body, he takes it into his mouth. His tongue swirls around it, lapping up every trace of you.

His eyes flutter shut, head tilting back as he moans around the toy, his throat working as he swallows. The sheer bliss on his face is a mixture of agony and ecstasy, a Lemurian’s single minded devotion channeled into one singular, overwhelming act.

His playfulness vanishes, replaced by commanding strength.

His hands slide upward, abandoning your thighs to hook firmly into the meat of your ass. With a sudden, decisive tug, he hauls your hips forward, dragging your pussy flush against his face. He waits until you plunge the toy deep inside yourself, a wet, sliding sound that makes his eyes snap open, blown wide and glazed, before he dives in.

Your fingers tangle blindly in his soft hair, pulling him closer, demanding more, and he answers with a fervor that feels sinful. He follows your lead perfectly, his tongue sweeping broad and flat across your soaking slit before narrowing to a torturous swirl around your engorged clit. Between the relentless, mechanical hum of the toy and the wet flick of his tongue, the world starts to blur into a smear of static and heat. You’re teetering, precariously perched on the precipice of a total sensory meltdown.

"Raf... Oh... my... Just like that..." you choke out, the words barely recognizable.

He grins against your skin when he feels your walls flutter, clamping spasmodically around the vibrating intruder.

Then, he goes for the kill.

He latches onto your clit, suckling with demanding pressure, while simultaneously using his hand to shove the vibrator as deep as your anatomy will allow.

Your body goes rigid the moment you break. A warm rush of arousal gushes from you, a release that floods his mouth and splashes across his cheeks and chin, drenching him in your sweetness.

His eyes roll back into his head, showing only the whites in a moment of ecstatic delirium. His cock pulses, spurting thick, hot ropes of cum that splatter across the sheets.

Eventually, the tremors subside. Moving with a languid, post coital heaviness, Rafayel carefully slides the toy out of your still twitching core. He doesn't toss it away immediately, instead, he brings the slick device to his lips, reverently sucking the last lingering traces of you from the silicone before finally letting it clatter unceremoniously onto the floor.

You lie there, limbs heavy and brain turned to mush, staring at the ceiling. "Raf... that was... easily one of the best orgasms of my entire life" you breathe, your own voice sounding far away.

"Yeah," he mumbles "Mine too."

You blink, turning your head to look at him. "...What?"

A furious, crimson blush sweeps up his neck and floods his face, reaching the tips of his ears. He avoids your eyes, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck with a trembling hand.

"I said what I said!" he huffs "God, don't look at me like that! I came like a horny teenager just from eating you out. Pathetic, yeah?"

It took a heartbeat maybe two for the image to actually register in his brain. There you were, flushed and breathless, straddling a thick slab of silicone, the wet thwack of the toy meeting your skin echoed off the walls, a sound that should have been erotic but felt like a direct insult to his pride.

Every time you slid down, burying yourself deep, a fresh wave of irrational, stinging jealousy flared in his gut. Why was that object getting the best version of you? Why did it get to feel the pulse of your pussy clenching around it?

"You wanted to watch me use the toy," you managed to pant out, your voice strained and heady with heat. "I'm doing exactly what you asked..."

Xavier didn't speak, he couldn't. His jaw was clamped shut so tight it ached, his knuckles white where he gripped the edge of the mattress. Watching the way your muscles bunched and released, it was too beautiful. Too frustratingly not him.

"Holy fuck..." The whisper escaped him, ragged and stripped of all that usual composed grace.

"Xavie... I'm gonna cum."

In his mind, he saw it happening the way your eyes would roll back, the way your body would go taut and spill itself all over that plastic toy. And suddenly, he couldn't stand another second of being a spectator. Being sidelined in his own damn room.

Before you could finish the descent, he moved. Large, calloused hands clamped onto your hips, his fingers digging into your skin just enough to leave a mark. With one forceful yank, he hauled you off the toy, breaking the suction with a wet pop that made his blood roar in his ears.

He tumbled you backward onto the mattress, his body following yours instantly, caging you in.

"No... you're not," his eyes were burning with a terrifying sort of focus. "Don't you dare give that feeling to anything else. Not on that thing. You have me right here."

Your laugh was airy, half delirious from the sudden loss of friction "You know... that thing can make me cum in a minute, flat.”

A lopsided smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he leaned down, his nose brushing yours, his scent, something clean like rain and expensive cashmere, flooding your senses.

"Fifty nine seconds, bunny," he promised as his hand slid down to find exactly where you were already aching. "Watch me."

There was no gentleness in the way he took you. Gentleness was for the daylight hours, for the moments when he was pretending to be just your coworker. Right now? He was hungry.

His hands forced your legs open "Let me eat, my star" he murmured against your skin before he descended.

When his tongue first made contact, dragging a slow, deliberate stripe from the bottom of your slit upward, you nearly jumped off the bed.

"Oh god, Xavie!"

The moment he found your clit the world outside his bedroom ceased to exist. There was no Linkon City, no Wanderers, no looming shadows of a forgotten past. There was only the weight of his hands and the pressure of his lips. When he finally took you in, sucking firmly, drawing you deep into the warmth of his mouth, your brain simply short circuited.

It was as if he knew the exact topography of your pleasure, every nerve ending mapped out in his mind.

Your vision fractured into white sparks, dancing behind your eyelids as he intensified the assault.

His hands moved, palms slapping against the underside of your cheeks before his fingers dug deep into your ass, hauling your hips downward. He needed you closer. He wanted to drown out the rest of the world and replace every sensation you’ve ever known with the rhythm of his tongue and the weight of his devotion.

As you bucked blindly, your hips searching for a friction that was driving you toward the precipice, Xavier felt himself coming undone. His cock was rock hard between his thighs, weeping pre cum against his underwear, jerking in sync with the tremors racking your body.

He was chasing your peak, determined to hunt it down and capture it, because as long as you were screaming his name, he knew that you weren't thinking about anyone else. 

Without a single word of warning, his fingers long and steady plunged deep into your center. Curling. Perfect.

He found that spot, hooking his finger with calculated pressure that sent a lightning bolt straight to your brain. He groaned directly against your swollen clit and it was the final shove you needed. The cliff disappeared, replaced by a plummet into pure ecstasy.

"Oh my god, yes!"

Your hands moved to his hair, anchoring yourself to earth, knuckles white as you gripped his locks, oblivious to whether you were being too rough. In that moment you didn't care.

His fingers kept moving, stroking that perfect spot over and over again until slickness gushed forth, coating his lips and soaking the tangled sheets beneath you in a warm, heady rush.

That was the thing that broke him. The taste, the wet heat, the way you moaned his name over and over again, it all crashed together. His hips bucked once against the mattress, then again, and thick ropes of cum pulsed out into his pants without a single touch. Sticky warmth spread fast, clinging to his skin, making the fabric heavy and uncomfortable. "Fuck," he gasped, voice cracking a little with surprise because this wasn't the plan. Not at all.

You wiped a stray tear of pleasure from your eye, a tired but triumphant smirk dancing on your lips. Despite the fact that your limbs felt like jelly, you couldn't resist. "That was definitely more than a minute, Xav"

He lifted his head slowly, hair messy from your grip, eyes still hazy but sharp when they caught yours.

"Yeah, well," he countered, leaning in to nip playfully at your inner thigh, his grin widening. "I made you squirt all over my face. That counts as an extra point, doesn't it? So, mathematically speaking..." He paused, pressing a lingering, heated kiss to your clit "... I win."

You gather the courage to meet his gaze, stomach falling when he stares back at you with furrowed brows and the slightest pout on his lips.Usually you'd be able to read his expression, but your frazzled mind doesn't let you interpret his reaction. 

“You don’t want kids,” he repeats, you nod slowly, wiping your sweaty hands on the material of your shorts.

“I’ve never wanted them, and I never will. I don’t know where you stand on it but I know it’s a dealbreaker for some,” you mumble, trying to hide how nervous you felt; trying to hide the fear of losing the love of your life over this.

“Okay,” he says simply, “is that everything?”

You stare at him for a moment before nodding. Xavier smiles at you, places a kiss to your worried face before handing you the bowl of popcorn.

“Did you still wanna start with the romcom?”

You take a second to orient yourself, gathering your thoughts before hesitantly nodding and clearing your throat.“Uh yeah, romcom is good.”

You don’t see Xavier at work the next morning. Panic rises in your chest with every passing second, glancing at your phone an embarrassing number of times in hopes he replied to your good morning message. 

“You okay? You’re looking really pale,” Tara whispers, concern brewing in her eyes as you stare back at her, a tight smile on your lips. 

“I’m fine,” you reply dryly, glancing at your phone once again, nothing. Your stomach churns, wasn’t Xavier better than this? Hadn’t the two of you grown past not telling each other how the other felt?

“Maybe you should go to the doctor, you might have what Xavier has,” at Tara’s words your head whips up to her, eyes wide. She flinches slightly at your sudden movement, “he called out sick today for a doctor's appointment, so maybe you guys got food poisoning or something?”

“How do you even know that?” You shake your head, a semblance of a smile on your lips as Tara hugs you. 

“People talk, I just listen,” she shrugs, “just tell Jenna you don’t feel good, I’m sure she’ll let you leave.” 

You tried to ignore the ache in your chest, tried to pretend you didn’t care about Xavier’s lack of communication. Your futures weren’t aligned, it’s nobody’s fault. The cursor blinked in front of your face as the words settled under your skin, throat tightening as you ruminated on them.

It wasn’t meant to be.

The lump in your throat grew with every flashing memory in your mind. The nights you’d spend yearning for him, the times he’d bought you takeout, the days off you’d spent together, late night movies, the bouts of jealousy. 

You’re not sure when you left the building, only hazily remembering clocking out and speaking to Jenna. Aa you stood in front of the all too familiar door, your confidence wavered. 

Before you could backtrack, your fist connects with the door three times. If it was going to end, you would be the one to do it, you were not going to get ghosted like this. 

You don’t hear any movement for a couple seconds, your shoulders deflate and you’re about to turn on your heel when the door finally swings open. 

Xavier looks… disheveled to say the least. His hair is messy, decked out in a hoodie and a pair of loose shorts you’d never seen before. His left hand holds a bag of frozen peas over his manhood. You force yourself to not stare. 

“Y/N,” his eyes widened, glancing down before meeting your eyes. You’re quiet for a second, unsure where to begin as you shift your weight from one leg to the other. 

“You weren’t at work and you didn’t reply to my text,” you say quietly, embarrassed at how vulnerable you sounded. Xavier waddles to the side, opening the door further and inviting you inside his home. You walk inside, chewing the inside of your cheek as his face grows flushed. 

“I was going to just tell you once I was fully healed,” he says simply, face even more red than before, shifting uncomfortably before turning away from you. 

“Tell me what? I told you I don’t want kids and then you ghost me and now you’re- what hiding injuries from me?” Your tone comes out sharper than you intend, tears pricking your eyes out of both frustration and sadness. 

“I got a vasectomy,” he rushes out, already seeing the cogs in your head turning towards the worst outcome possible. 

“You-?” For a moment you think he’s joking, a cruel prank before he tells you it wasn’t going to work out. Your eyes hold his sapphire ones, gleaming like they always did when he looked at you, like you held the world within you.

“You said you don’t want kids, so I got one for… us?” He cocks his a to the side on the last word, thinking for a second before nodding and looking at you again. 

“But what if we break up? Or what if you regret it or-” your mind raced at the endless forms of resentment that could build up in the case this doesn’t work out for reasons neither of you could plan for.

“My star, you’re the only thing I want in this world, in this life and the next it’ll always only be you.” Xavier’s gentle voice cuts through the bitter thoughts poisoning your mind. Your teary eyes look at him once more, his pink dusted cheeks, messy hair and saccharine smile. 

You move without thinking, throwing your arms around him with so much force he stumbles backwards, instinctively wrapping his arms around you to keep you as close to him as possible. “Xavier,” you whisper into his neck, failing to blink back tears as you squeeze him in your grasp. “I love you so much,” you breathe out, sniffling softly as he giggles quietly. 

“And I love you, more than you can imagine,” the sincerity of his words only makes your grip on him tighten, eyes screwing shut as you let your thoughts evaporate. 

No, this was always meant to be. It was written in the stars, Xavier had gone up there himself to ensure it.

A week and a half later when Xavier lays with you, his bare chest pressed against your flushed and sweaty skin, he smiles. Everything he could ever want, everything he would ever want, is here in his arms; breathing quietly with a twitch of your nose ever so often. 

“You know you’re it for me,” Xavier’s voice is barely above a whisper, breaking slightly. “It’s only ever you, anything you’ll give me, I’ll always accept.” He knows you’re asleep, he knows you’ll never know the words he’s speaking into the night, he doesn’t care. 

The smallest hum leaves your lips, brows furrowing as you stir, scooting closer to your lover even in your sleep. His smile grows softer, his arms curl around you a little tighter. He has you and your love, there’s nothing more in his life he would want. 

Although he might ask what you think about adopting a kitten. 

sylus — darkbound souls

the steam coming from the spring was enough to make your head spin, feeling sylus licking droplets of water off your body. the silk fabric and beads that decorate your respective forms were the only barrier between you and him, and you felt heat on the spot where he began trailing possessive kisses down the side of your neck. while basking in this seductive friction, you open your eyes, allowing your gaze to follow the lotus bloom seen floating atop the waters.

you feel his smirk against your skin, his hand holding yours momentarily before he scoops up the bloom and places the delicate flower within your hand. still caught in a daze, you tilt your hand forward, allowing the droplets of water to cascade down sylus’s beautifully sculpted chest.

knowing you like the back of his own hand, he smirks at you before falling back into the shallow ends of the pool, bringing you on top of him as you allowed yourself to lick off the water that remain against his skin like morning dew.

as your tongue curls against the harden bud of his nipple, you felt the way he delves his fingers into your hair before whispering to you, “you can always ask me for all of my desires. i’ve never been one to deny you of your needs, my love.”

when you were done cleaning the water off of him, sylus removes the silk fabric that once covers his loins, now changing positions with you as he has you laid above the marble steps. spreading your legs wide open so that he may settle himself between them, he traces the engorged tip of his cock over your outer lips, basking in your soft mewls of his name before slowly entering you.

your back arches against the marble steps, accepting every breathtaking inch of him as he began his steady pace-

making love to you while surrounded by the hot waters as you felt like you were floating on heaven’s cloud.

zayne — silent underflow

you felt heat coursing through your veins upon hearing zayne’s grunt, feeling his body turn taut even as you massaged his form. you touched at the jewels that decorate his broad back, running a reverent hand down the length of his body as you pressed a kiss against his wet skin-

feeling a shudder coursing through him when he suddenly faces you, taking you within his embrace before capturing your lips in a searing kiss. you eagerly kissed him back, allowing the passion to take over as your connected lips were coupled with gentle bites and the twirling of tongues. when the need for air became too much, zayne was the first to pull away from the kiss, now trailing his lips down toward the junction of your neck and shoulder.

“zayne-“ you instinctively call out to him, feeling him sharply inhale before whispering hoarsely within your ear, “i want to hear 'zayne' leave your lips 1,000 times. 10,000 times even. so please… don’t you dare hold anything back.”

he gently taps at your hips, silently demanding that you jump. you did so just mere seconds later, jumping into his arms so that zayne was now holding you by the back of your thighs. he settles himself against the edge of the pool, eyes darkened with pure desire for you as he slots his erection between your legs. as if captivated by the sight of your swollen clit, he continues to rub his cock against your hardened pearl, not stopping until he hears your soft whimpering.

hearing your soft whimpers morphing into desperate moans of his name breaks him out of his reveries. letting out soft curses along with the syllables that make up your name, you feel him gripping at your backside before slowly sheathing himself within your cunt, entering your core slowly as if to savor the feeling of you wrapped so snugly around him.

tossing your head back at the sensation of his thick cock invading your walls, you felt the waters sloshing around your intimately connected bodies as he steadily pounded himself into you-

ensuring that you would feel him for days once he was done.

xavier — sunken glow

xavier seemed obsessed at the mere sight of you, covered in nothing but gorgeous beads as he trails hot kisses down the length of your body. you shiver, feeling him whispering your name against your ear while biting down against the lobe of it.

even with your back pressed flushed against the front of his chest, it was clear that xavier couldn’t get enough of you. his hands kept trailing down the front of your form, pinching and caressing you in all the right places as you let out eager moans in response.

xavier played your body like his own personal instrument, drawing out your sweet gasps and cries of his name with his each and every touch.

“the longing that i have… this thirst is because of you.”

with your back still pressed against his chest, he slowly spreads your legs for him, managing to find your cunt as he slots the palm of his hand over it. your breathing hitches upon feeling the way he cups at your sex, inserting a single finger within it before moving away from you-

now replacing the digit with the thick tip of his cock.

hiding his face within the curve of your neck, you felt him slowly entering you from behind, causing a low gasp to escape from you as you felt him completely sheath himself within your heat. you brace yourself against the edge of the pool, feeling your walls flutter each time xavier grunts and moans within your ear as you prayed that your connection with him would last forever.

rafayel — rippling blossoms

the fishes within the pond were seen dancing with their mates while rafayel kept your body pressed against his.

you continue to tease him, giving him kisses that were no heavier than dew before inevitably moving away from him. he pouts at you, coming closer to steal your lips once more when you manage to pick up one of the red flowers floating from within the pond. you end up placing the crimson bloom on rafayel’s lips, hearing his gasps turn heavier as he slides your body closer to him, feeling the boat rock with your respective movements.

he kisses you, transferring the flower from his lips to yours before slowly backing away from you. his hands tremble with reverence, gently caressing at your face with the back of his hand. “let me touch you… until every part of your body belongs to me.”

laying you back against the boat, rafayel covers your body beneath his. he hides his face within the curve of your neck, wrapping both of your legs around his waist before slowly pushing himself into your heat. you gasp, feeling your back arching against the wood as your body accepted every inch of him. once he was fully sheathed inside of you, you felt his slow thrusts making your body bounce in tune with him.

the boat steadily begins to rock, jostling slightly as rafayel seemed focused on the feeling of your walls tightly gripping at his cock as you cling to him while he sped up his pace-

wrapping your arms and legs around him as you became one in your own mating dance.

caleb — vinesurge instinct

caleb was settled back against the bank of the river, drunk off the sweet scent of the apples while keeping both hands on the back of your head.

you had simply shoved aside the sheer fabric that covered his manhood, gently stroking him a few times before sliding into the waters. forcing caleb to spread his legs, a mischievous smile paints your expression before you lean down, proceeding to wrap your lips around his cock.

he remained hot, heavy, and thick against your lips, feeling the weight of his cock on your tongue as you wrapped it around his shaft. you hum when you felt the veins that decorated his dick pulsating with need for you. and when you attempt to take him further within your mouth-

caleb was the one who stopped you from having fun by pulling you away from him. you whined a bit from the sudden loss of him, only to have your protest die against your throat at the sight of him.

with you now meeting his gaze, you could see the blush that paints his defined cheekbones. he appeared sheepish when he leans in to press a kiss against your lips before telling you, “you’re always a fast learner… you always know how to make me feel so damn good.”

he then proceeds to lay you back against the damp grass just then, making your breathing hitch when he spreads your legs for him, “and together, we’ll see how we belong to each other.”

never once breaking eye contact with you, caleb hovers close to you, entering your slick walls in one, swift motion. just mere seconds later, he’s completely sheathed inside of you, setting a steady pace that leaves you panting for him.

each time he angles his hips, you swore caleb hit a spot you never knew even existed before, feeling your toes curl in response. he could feel the way your walls clenched around him in such an oh so sweet manner, making him lean down to whisper hedonistic phrases in your ear,

“that’s right, only i can make you feel this way. only i can reach this deeply into you…and you’re going to remember this feeling for the rest of your life- i’ll make sure of it.”

end notes: lmao i’m too broke to try and get this banner, so i’ll write something instead 😙

This time is even more precious though. There’s more of him you’re discovering. Of course, there’s the usual: his warmth, his softness but now there’s hints of roughness. Roughness that you should be discovering anywhere but here.

When he sighs into your mouth, you forget about your worries.

It was meant to be a late night at the Association for you. You’d planned to finish your report and hand it in today, even if it meant being the last one out of the office. You were almost there, there was just a few more pages left to fill in, but then another chair rolled up next to you and soon you were coaxed into taking a well-needed break.

Somehow, this break meant sitting in your boyfriend’s lap and kissing him like you’d never have the chance to again. At your workplace. His one too. The one where you share the same colleagues and report to similar higher ups and have to look at one another with a straight face after this.

It’s quiet in the office, it’s far too dark and there’s only the glow of a few hologram displays nearby that illuminate your knitted figures. Beyond the doors there’s voices, there’s meetings, and here you both are. 

Shivers run down your spine when his fingers skim over it, and heat plummets in you when you consider how close he is to you. This is all too much for your first time kissing him like this, but your hands thread through his soft locks anyway and his other hand grips onto your thigh for support when you tug.

And he’s— God, you can feel how much he loves this. It makes your head spin when you realise how far you’ve gone now, but Xavier’s there to keep you grounded. His fingers press into your back, his palm brushes up your thigh, finds the curve of your silhouette, and you whimper when his tongue meets yours.

It takes your absolute full strength to pull yourself away, your body begs to stay in his embrace, but you know you’re pushing it now. You clear your throat, eyes adjusting to the dark when you whisper, “Xavier, we— I’m not sure if—”

But the words are stuck in your throat when you gaze down at him. Serene blue eyes pierce through despite how heavy-lidded they are, you see the way his lips are coated in a mixture of you and him and his heartbeat can be heard over the cars and civilians bustling just outside.

It’s fast, it’s so unbelievably fast, and that’s all because of you.

Xavier’s chest is heaving, and alongside his heartbeat comes the sound of hushed pants pushing past slicked lips. You've got one arm braced on his shoulder, and he leans into your forearm, seeking your touch. He’s quiet for a moment, just to catch his breath, and finally his voice comes into focus.

“We can stop. I’ll follow your lead.” It comes out in a broken whisper, struggles to find its footing between a steady tone and sweet quietness, and that also sends heat pooling between your thighs. 

You see the eager shine in his eyes, the silent plea that restrains him, and God he’s too pretty. You don’t want to stop— you can’t. You lean back in, and he’s there. His hand stays firm on your back, your thighs keep him in place beneath you and only the sounds of strained whimpers, reverent sighs and chair squeaking float from your cubicle.

You’d started it, really. Xavier had simply stopped by to check in on you, give your mind a rest from battle jargon. He’d slipped you a small kiss, a promise of seeing you soon, but something took over you. You kissed back, a little harder, and he’d been more than keen to reciprocate. 

Tomorrow you’ll blame it on the atmosphere and the thrill of being caught.

No one could blame you though. Xavier had been so sweet and gentle with you thus far, but you knew you were approaching your breaking point. His presence was always too close for you to be able to ignore him - he was on your mind more often than not. Being left alone with thoughts of Xavier meant wondering about the sides of him you hadn’t seen yet.

When he bites on the plush of your lip, you’re grateful that today’s the day you finally get to learn so much more. When you whimper from the delirious sting, his palm kneads into the softness of your ass and coaxes another whimper out of you.

You’re about to whine, to ask him for more - you’re not even quite sure what that may be yet - but the sound of footsteps draw close and soon the door to the office is being opened.

Light breaks through and tears apart the harmonious blacks and blues previously streaked across the room. Heat dissipates from you, your head spins, but you’re alone in your chair now. Xavier’s neatly arranged you back onto your chair, spun you round the right way and hidden himself somewhere.

You make eye contact with the colleague who’s just walked in and give a quaint smile, trying to appear as though your heart rate was completely normal.

You think Xavier’s teleported, but when you roll your chair closer to your desk a hand places itself on your thigh. You jolt at the feeling, and thank the stars above that your colleague is busy at their own desk.

His touch kicks in some sort of survival instinct; you try to subtly re-arrange yourself. You pat down your clothes, glance at the reflection in the monitor and tame stray hairs. It’s probably too late for that, but anything is better than thinking about Xavier’s hand that is… far too close for you to be normal about.

A quick peer under your desk shows you a sight you’re not prepared for.

He’s not even looking at you. He’s not trying to. His eyes are fixated on his hand, the one that rests higher up than it has before. His cheeks are flushed, his ears burn red, and his chest rises and falls in quick succession. He’s beautifully dishevelled and the definition of bliss.

It takes him a moment to realise you’re watching him, and Xavier slowly glances up. There’s a flicker of surprise, like you’d stumbled across a private moment, but it morphs into the sweetest of smiles. One that speaks of innocence and carries a hint of guilt.

When you shut your legs in realisation, he flops his forehead against your knee. Your body jolts, and he places a small kiss in apology.

ଳ⋆˚࿔ rafayel

“You know, I really think it’s unnecessary for you to buy a new outfit everytime you get paint on your clothes.”

“What do you have in mind then, cutie?”

“I don’t know… Maybe try a washing machine, or hand washing them. Or having a set only for when you paint so it doesn’t matter if it gets a bit messy. Maybe even—“

There’s a zipping sound just past the curtain, accompanied by a flurry of movements. “In order to paint, I need to be just like my canvas. Completely clear, brand new, ready to be washed in colours. Besides, I think a certain someone enjoys these little shopping trips, wouldn’t you agree?”

You scoff and cross your arms, scrutinising the figure behind the curtain. Like always, Rafayel had dirtied another pristine white set of his and begged you to accompany him shopping. He should have been perfectly aware you’d be against the trip - it’s not like you bought a new uniform every time you fought a wanderer - but he’d only taunted you and said he’d happily buy you one each time if you asked.

You’d gone round and round in circles, never learning to not make eye contact with a pretty shirt or tailored pants hung on display. He’d always somehow catch on and immediately be adding the piece onto the forever growing pile of clothes in your arms. 

“Why is it that when we go shopping for you, I’m the one who has to carry stuff?” you’d asked.

“I’m too weak to carry them. I’m tired. Isn’t my bodyguard supposed to do this?” He’d replied, not without a flick to his forehead. 

He’s lucky he’s cute.

You have to press your lips into a thin line when you think about his infuriatingly teasing expression - you can’t reinforce this behaviour. It’s not been very long since you started dating, but you think Rafayel already knows his charms work too easily on you. 

“Prepared to be blown away, cutie?”

“Show me what you got.”

In all honesty, you’re not really prepared. He’s styled in a silky white blouse and crisp black trousers, and whilst it’s a colour scheme you’ve seen him in before you’re still getting used to how pretty he can be. The lavender hues of his hair are striking in contrast, the blues and pinks in his eyes beam at you - only ever for you - and blush lips spread into a stupid smirk.

He’s going to be the death of you, and he knows it.

Your eyes drift and catch onto the detailed embroidery neatly displayed on the blouse. A motif of seashells and foam trail over his shoulder, down his chest and wrap around his waist. You don’t remember picking this one, and you’re intrigued. 

“That’s… actually really nice on you.”

Rafayel shakes his head, and pouts at you. “Are you surprised?”

You can’t think clearly, too focused on the intricacies, so you step forward and your hands begin to trace over the embroidery. You skim over the bold print, and learn the neat stitches story. From top to bottom, you admire the little details in it. There’s tiny crabs that scuttle over, specks of fish that waft through and coral that dance beneath your fingertips.

A hand catches your wrist. When you look up from the embroidery, a blushing Rafayel fills your view. He’s looking away, another pout pressing into his lips, and your breath catches. You’re about to apologise, you didn’t realise just how in his space you were. It dawns on you then that you’d been touching him too, the thinness of the blouse hadn’t concerned you in the slightest, oh—

It happens quickly, and you’re disorientated for a second. He’s pulled you into the changing room with him, a small space made for one really. The curtain is drawn behind you, and Rafayel moves from gripping your wrist to lacing his fingers through yours.

His voice is hushed when he says, “If you wanted a feel, cutie, you could’ve just asked.”

You’re floundering through apologies, and he’s quick to shush you. There’s not much room for you here, and he knows it. He takes one—two steps towards you, and you naturally scuffle backwards. Soon your back is pressed against the wall, and Rafayel has you where he wants. His eyes flit between your eyes to your lips.

For the first time since you got here, it’s silent. There’s the bumbling of customers just outside the cubicle, and you can’t help but gulp at the intensity of his eyes. He’s watching you keenly, and you feel hot under his gaze. You’re about to open your mouth, another apology ready to be said, but he disrupts you.

It’s eerily gentle, the way in which he finally speaks. A soft whisper of “Please, can I?” is all it takes for you to abandon any concerns about his feelings. He’s more than fine, you realise.

His pink cheeks speak of want, his eyes sparkle with desire and you’re more than happy to apologise for invading his space with a soft kiss.

It’s wouldn’t be the first time, of course. You’ve kissed him plenty of times before, but something has you questioning if gentleness is all he wants today. You think it’s the lack of room, the way he’s hazily watching you, his open clavicle you’re suddenly too aware of.

The sound of conversation nearby reminds you that you’re in public - what if a worker walked in and questioned the two pairs of shoes peaking from under the curtain?

Still. You can’t deny him because you don’t want to. He’s asked so nicely too; it was rare for him to be polite. That’s the kind of behaviour you should be rewarding.

You respond with a chaste kiss, delicate and sweet as always. It dawns on you, though, that this was the wrong move. Your earlier intuition was right, because soon Rafayel’s hand is pinning your wrist low against the wall. His other hand latches onto your cheek, softly pressed into your skin, and you’re drowning in him. 

It takes a moment for your brain to reboot, but when you’re finally there it’s a quiet match filled with pleasurable sighs and hushed whimpers. He takes the lead and flourishes you in harsh kisses, and your hand struggles to not scrunch into his pretty blouse. 

When his tongue slides into yours, your brain short-circuits and you’re tugging him closer, harder, into you. You can feel him smirk into the kiss, and it sends a wave of lightheadedness floating through.

With each kiss, each pang of dizziness, comes the steady collection of slick between your legs, you gasp. It’s too soon to be feeling like this, yes this was a lot more of a passionate kiss than usual, but it was embarrassing nonetheless. You just hope he hasn’t caught on, because you’re more than aware that you’ll be endlessly teased by him.

He pulls away from you, and a string of saliva connects his lips to yours. He’s panting, and your knees buckle from the heavy look he gives you. You see how quickly Rafayel’s eyes flash with realisation, and he’s caught between a laugh and moan - a ragged sound that has you shuddering. You stare at him helplessly, borderline needy, and he’s nodding and catching you once more.

When he closes in on you again, he purrs into your ear, “I’ve got you, pretty baby.” Any sound you could make from the new name is muffled by his lips reaching yours again. His knee slots perfectly between your thighs, and a quiet moan manages to escape from you at the sudden pressure.

He kisses you again, and again, before pulling away once more.

“Is this okay?” Rafayel asks, and you want to laugh. Instead, you clumsily nod, and his thumb caresses your cheek. His voice is wrecked, his skin hot on yours, and the way he’s still watching you drives you crazy. You can’t help but buck against his knee, the undivided attention overwhelmingly delightful to you, and that…

Rafayel’s eyes flutter watching you. He can’t stay away anymore, and soon he’s back on you. He kisses your mouth, your jaw, your neck, and commits each sound you make to his mind.

He’s definitely buying this shirt.

₊°｡❆ zayne

“Thanks for inviting me out, Zayne. Even if your taste in fusion cuisine is skewed, I had fun.”

“I feel like you’re teasing me. As I recall, someone was perfectly happy trying out my meal. I distinctly remember a few bites missing from my own plate each time I looked away.”

You squint your eyes at him. “Well. It sounds to me like someone doesn’t want a kiss goodbye.”

Zayne laughs, but you're stoic and refuse to break character. You look away and twist your body away from him too. There’s only so much space in the passenger seat though, so this is the most brutal move you can pull as he drives you home.

He calls your name a few times, and you still refuse to speak. It's only when his hand shifts from the gearstick to your thigh that you acknowledge him.

“I’m sorry. It seems I mistook you for a little mouse,” he says, mirthful eyes focused on your figure after pulling up to a traffic light.

You huff and nod earnestly. “That’s right. I would never take your food without asking. Especially not for something so… sweet.”

He smiles softly and moves his hand back onto the gearstick, driving off and closer to your home. It returns back to your thigh, and your hand clasps over it.

That is, until you hear a quiet, “And yet, everything on your plate was clear.”

When you pull his hand off your thigh and softly throw it elsewhere, he apologises endlessly as you refuse to engage.

It’s a quick drive, and you hate it. Even though he can be so mean, you want to spend every second with Zayne regardless. You miss him the moment you’re apart, and you’re not ready to feel that.

The universe clearly doesn’t care though, because the sight of your apartment building sends your heart dropping. You think he feels it too. The air chills ever so slightly, and there’s a lingering silence as the car finally stops. You turn to face him, heart panging when you catch his mournful expression.

“Thank you,” is all that comes from your mouth. If you say goodbye, then you have to leave, and you’re really not ready yet.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, but then Zayne’s leaning over the console towards you. His voice is full of quiet and wrapped in silk when he murmurs, “It doesn’t have to be a kiss-goodbye.”

“No? What should it be then.”

“…A kiss see-you-later.”

You laugh and he smiles with you, a little meek and pink. Your hands come up and cradle his cheeks, squishing them as your move his head side to side. He doesn’t resist, letting you coo and squeeze him as you please.

“You’re such a romantic. Fine, let’s have a ‘kiss see-you-later’ then.” Your eyes flutter shut as Zayne leans closer. His lips move against yours softly, and one hand come to rest at your nape.

The kiss is sweet, as it usually is. You’ve only ever known tenderness with him. It’s always been that way with Zayne though - his love is quiet but firm. His presence has always been soothing; he’s never been a problem in all the time you’ve known him, only a solution.

Perhaps that’s why tonight you want more.

You’re tentative at first, your hand rising and hesitating before finally settling on his tie. It wraps around the cloth as you feel Zayne about to move away. You know he’s about to ask what’s wrong, but courage takes over and you’re tugging him closer.

You hear surprise as he’s dragged into you. A sudden “mmph” breaks between the sound of slick lips moving together, and that… It’s a sound you’ll remember for the rest of your life. You’re not sure how you’ve ever been able to live without it before.

You want to hear so much more.

Your curiosity about the soft doctor wins, and encourages you to kiss harder, faster, rougher. And Zayne— he only struggles for a second. The change isn’t too much for him, not when he’s spent years fantasising about having you like this.

He’s beyond grateful that you’ve reached this point of comfort with him. After all, there’s nothing more that Zayne wants than to learn everything you like, and help you with whatever you need. Judging by the way your hand tightens against his tie, the quiet whimpers that escape when his tongue slips into your mouth, he understands that you’ve needed this for a while.

—At least he thinks he understands, because any sort of confidence Zayne had in taking the lead from you is banished when you suckle on his tongue, savouring honey and sage as you go. Your lungs burn for air, but you keep a steady pace at licking out any whimper or gasp you can from him.

You’re impressed with how he keeps up with you, he never once tries to pull away from your touch. Your hand comes up to cradle the back of his head and you giggle when you feel the hot tip of his ear sear against your palm as you move past. Zayne simply squeezes his eyes shut, humiliation rolling in waves.

When you disconnect for some air, you finally get to see his flushed pink ears, the slack jaw that shallowly takes in each breath. His shirt’s crumpled from each drag of his tie, pulled taut from your desperation to melt into him, and yet he’s never looked so much like himself. Like Zayne was made to be used as you please.

He slowly gulps, eyebrows twitching as he tries to compose himself. “I—“ He inhales deeply, eyes flitting from your hand that still clutches onto his tie and back to your face. “…That—“

You groan as you slump back onto your seat, and it’s a mixture of pent-up energy and laughter. Zayne eyes you curiously, heart still racing and on edge as he anticipates - hopes for - your next pounce.

Your hand stays fiddling with the end of his tie.

“You’re so cute Dr. Zayne, did you know that?” There’s no earnest teasing or wide-eyed compliment that follows. Instead you watch him carefully, letting each syllable hit hard as they lazily drag past your lips.

You can’t help feeling smug when you see how baffled he is, all twitchy and red in the face.

After a moment of silence, he finally sighs and shakes his head. “You’re… relentless.”

“You’re just realising that?”

You lurch towards him, lips immediately finding his, and It feels deliriously good to be close to him again. For a brief moment, you’re mourning leaving the car - you’re not prepared to return to a life where Zayne isn’t kissing you rough and fast, just like this, but he moans when another whimper leaves you, and your brain short-circuits entirely.

Holy shit.

It’s what makes you jolt forward, your hips fighting against the rigidness of leather beneath you and eager for Zayne to be there instead. Your hand frantically skims on the underside of his tie, reaching the knot. It takes a little fiddling, but your fingers are soon digging in and prying the knot loose.

Everything shifts; your mixed pants grow heavier, needier, and even Zayne’s hands begin to lift and seek a place to clutch. The car’s windows fog, condensed entirely from keen whines and aching groans. Finally, fuck finally , your hands smooth over his burning skin beneath and—

Honk!

You jump away from one another as the sound blares from the car. Your eyes jump from Zayne to the car horn, and when you see his elbow hovering near it you can’t help bursting out laughing.

And Zayne… He’s entirely mortified. He feels the way his skin flushes, the sensation of blood rushing and pooling into his cheeks and ears - but watching you laugh in front of him helps. Perhaps that’s why he laughs with you too.

It takes a while for you both to calm down, the nerves of harsh kisses and loud horns still coursing adrenaline through your beings. Soon, a comforting ambiance of softened pants takes over.

Between shallow breaths, Zayne tries to calmly say, “That was— one way of having a kiss see-you-later.”

There’s a teasing lilt to his voice that tries to reason with you, and perhaps coyness should have visited you then, but the sight of the usually collected man before you panting and blushing with his clothes roughed by your very hands was enough to keep it away.

Instead your shoulders shake with laughter, and you shake your head.

“You really are too cute, Dr. Zayne,” you hum, and his ears somehow redden further. “Should I be worried though? Does that mean you didn’t enjoy it?

“On the contrary, I loved it.”

And you’re not sure, but from the look in his eye you have more than enough reason to spend the rest of your night overthinking that statement.

.ִֶָ ♱ ་༘࿐ sylus

You feel a tap against the back of your hand, the one that was busy scrounging into the fabric of your jeans as you rambled, and you look up.

His voice is drips with sweetness, like it always does, when he says, “Take your time, sweetie. Try again.”

You turn your hands over, catching his fingers in your grasp and giving them a squeeze. You’re all too aware that your palm feels sweaty, but Sylus doesn’t pull away and you know he doesn’t care. He just wants to listen, like he always does.

“I—” One breath in, one breath out. “—kept dreaming of these, and you were always there in those dreams. I think it’s because I’ve seen a few of them when we’re out at night. It’s funny, the meaning of them isn’t exactly great but still, I thought you’d like them. I’ve actually been growing and tending them myself. For you.”

You lift his hand to your lips, pressing a soft kiss to the smooth knuckles there before swapping your hand out for the bouquet of dark flowers. The veins of his hands pop against the pink silk bow tying the bunch together, and you squirm trying to gauge his reaction.

Sylus doesn’t seem to notice, though. He’s focused on the flowers, and the adoration you’d seen him enter the room with is enhanced tenfold. There’s a sweet glow in the vermillion of his eyes, but the muscles beneath tense ever so slightly.

Perhaps they were too girlish? You cringe upon reflection, gaze fleeing towards the fireplace the two of you are sat before as you ponder. The big boss man who lords over the N109 Zone being gifted pretty flowers was maybe a little too ridiculous.

You rush to save the moment. “They’re called daturas. Apparently they symbolise power, caution and spiritual transformation. Obviously, the power and caution speak for themselves— I swear I didn’t just grow them because I thought they just looked nice. Mm, I guess the spiritual transformation doesn’t quite fit, but—“

His gruff laugh silences you, and the worries you had dissipate right before you. He’s smiling in his arrogant way once more, and you can’t find the stiffness previously etched in his muscles.

Perhaps you were simply in your head about it.

“My soul found yours and I finally felt peace. I’d say that’s rather fitting, wouldn’t you agree? In any case, I like cute things too. If I didn’t, there wouldn’t be a sweet kitten staying at the Onychinus base.”

You can only blink at him with parted lips as his words wash over you. Trust Sylus to take your romantic moment and make it his own.

“So you like them?”

“I do. It’d be rude of me to dislike this bunch when my balcony is already overflowing with all the flowers you’ve brought over.” He tilts his head just behind, but it’s an unnecessary movement. The trails of flowers and the petals that can’t help but detach have been flowing in and out of the room the entire time you’ve been here.

You certainly have left your mark here.

Sylus’s gaze sweeps from you to the daturas still in his hand. He gently whispers, “After all, these ones were specifically tended to just for me,” before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

When you look up, you’re shrouded in him. You’re not sure when the two of you had moved closer together, but the enamoured look on his face has you leaning in for a kiss. You feel shy asking like this, no words exchanged, but he’s always telling you to go for what you want.

You hear him gently lay the flowers beside him before he scoops you onto his lap.

You shriek at the sudden movement, eyes jolting open, but Sylus pays no mind. His hand trails the dip of your waist, and your eyebrows scrunch together ever so slightly at the sudden confidence. You flit between either of his rouge eyes, noting the half-lidded expression, and your heart stutters.

The flames from his fireplace crinkle behind the two of you, and your knees dig into the plush of his rug as your body steadily settles on his lap.

His voiced is hushed, “Did you notice anything when you were caring for the daturas?” His breath fans over your skin, reaches past your neck and tickles the ends of your hairs. You’re on high alert, still adjusting to the sight of Sylus so close to you, and you jolt from the feeling.

His grip on your waist tightens ever so slightly - a warning that falls on deaf ears, much like the futile question itself.

Each word was muffled in the haze of the warmth you now share, your mind too busy scrambling and desperately trying to find footing in this shift between the two of you.

Sylus watches you far too intensely the entire time.

Did anything happen? You knew they were toxic so you did your best to wear the necessary protection needed to tend to them. You were thorough in washing your hands after too. Sure, there were times you were somewhat dizzy and had to sit down, but that was all.

Honest.

When you still don’t respond, he continues, “They’re known to be hallucinogens.” His hand engulfs one of yours, dragging it to the curve of his cheek. Sylus presses his cheek into the soft of your palm, eyes fixated on you. “Even the smallest amount of pollen can have an effect. You mentioned dreams of them, and even said I was there.”

His head tilts, and the brush of his lips against sensitive skin tickles ever so slightly. There’s an edge of mirth in his voice when he whispers against your palm, “What were they like, sweetie?”

Ah.

It seems he may know a lot more about daturas than you did.

Residue from the petals you’d been caressing before his arrival sweep over his skin, melting between the point of contact between the two of you.

Your head spins.

On one hand, you’re glad that your keen eye meant you’d stumbled upon Sylus’s favourite flower. A part of you swells with pride at getting that right - they truly were a good gift then. On the other hand, you’re both stepping over a line that has only ever been treaded along. You know exactly what he’s asking, but the teasing tone in his voice tells you you can end this new game now if you’d like.

You’re… not sure if you want to.

A gust of wind billows from the balcony, and the once energetic fire is tamed. With the wind comes the scent of daturas that flutter around your figures. Your body reacts before your mind catches on, and you’re biting his lip between yours and drawing blood.

He groans into your mouth, and only then does a singular thought cut through - this is rougher than how you usually kiss him. You can’t quite remember what usually kissing Sylus means though, because roughly kissing him feels like it’s always been second nature.

Your mind fuzzes and swirls with notes of Sylus’ cologne and sour pollen. The heat of his lips never fades - he’s so warm and close and entirely yours if you’d like.

He meets your pace now, matches the brutality of your lips, and the room echoes of whimpers and groans. You pull on the softness of his hair, your other hand having snuck its way to the nape of his hair. He groans and grips tightly onto your waist, which only makes you gasp and jut forward.

You hear him grit his teeth, restraint oozes out of every fibre in his body, and that only makes you moan. Each brush of his lips and caress of his tongue drives you mad, like there’s a never-ending ache that can’t be satiated even with his touch. Not tonight, at least.

When you reluctantly pull away for air, Sylus huffs a laugh seeing the blooming crimson on your lips. It’s a scratchier sound than usual; his pupils are dilated beyond belief and the creeping realisation that you are the sole reason for his flushed skin sends your mind reeling.

You’re lost in the heat of your desire for him, you don’t think for a second, and suddenly you’re pushing him down. He admires you above him, memorises the way the light is consumed by your dark figure, and merely smirks.

Sat atop him, you snake one hand over his chest. You feel the thrum of his heart beneath your palm. When you slide your hand further up the curve of his neck, you feel the intense spike of his pulse. It dawns on you right then that his arrogance is all for show.

He’s just as lost in you.

Your plant your hands on either side of his head, the marble cool against your palms. You duck down and catch his bottom lip between your teeth once more, and Sylus works to keep up with you. You’re relentless, taking everything he can give you and more.

With each gasp and heavy breath comes the quick inhalation of daturas, and you fall into a never-ending cycle of consuming one another.

. ݁ ❦ ˖ caleb

You try not to sigh as Caleb keeps talking, it’s like he doesn’t even care about being somewhat alert tomorrow. For someone who loves to mention his position as Colonel, often as a meaningless scare-tactic to keep you from snooping where he thinks you shouldn’t, he really didn’t seem to care about actually maintaining the role.

“—And then there was that time you would not stop crying until your dear Caleb came back to you. You were so clingy, though I guess you still are, huh?”

You don’t bother tilting your chin up from the comfy spot you’ve found on his chest. There’s no point responding or making eye contact when he’ll just continue prattling about the old days - and trust, you liked reminiscing just as much as him! - but it’s 1am and you just want to sleep.

“Caleb.”

“Yeah, pips?”

“Go to sleep.”

He shuffles beneath you, jostling your leg that had been perfectly slung over his own thigh. You grumble as you mould yourself back into his side, trying to find the perfect angle in this cuddle pile you’d created.

Perhaps sleepovers in Skyhaven should be off the table until Caleb learns some etiquette.

You hear him tut, an offending sound that resonates in the crisp of his bedroom. You try not to roll your eyes, because you’re pretty sure you’ll hear a lecture about that if he so much as hears it.

If the tut wasn’t enough, he makes sure to heavily lay on the (fake) hurt when he mentions, “There was a time when you listened to my every word, you know. What happened to that?”

Your eyes roll anyway, and the dredge of sleep crawls back over you. “I genuinely have no idea where you’ve got that from.”

“Pips, I literally just told you about those times. Weren’t you listening?” Caleb says, and you can literally hear the pout in his voice. He shuffles again, and you grumble in response. “Okay, from the top! So, back then—“

Your head whips up and catches sight of an overly awake Caleb whose eyes dreamily stare at the ceiling. He’s happily chirping away, like the minutes on the alarm clock next to him mean fuck all.

You’re too grouchy for this.

There’s only a small bite to your words when you groan, “Oh my God, Caleb! Shut up!” Any hurt he could experience is immediately soothed over, because you’re dragging yourself upwards and planting your elbows on either side of him.

Your hands cradle his face as you press your lips against one cheek, then the other, his forehead, his nose and finally a sweet peck on his lips. You’re more than relieved when you pull back and see he’s been stunned into silence.

You put on your best stern expression, and squish his cheeks together. One pat, then another, and you think he’s finally gotten the hint, so you slither down to your cosy spot on his chest and rest your eyes.

…It’s a bit difficult to actually settle though when the person below you won’t shut the fuck up!

“Caleb.”

“Yeah, pips?”

And God, he’s actually smug— he’s not even trying to hide it. You grit your teeth when you realise he probably thinks he’s the smartest man in the world; annoy his girlfriend enough and she’ll kiss him quiet, that’ll do it.

You sigh deeply as the realisation strikes you.

Apparently the dog tag wasn’t enough to satisfy his overeager, puppy-like behaviour clearly. It’s become very obvious to you now that Caleb may need some actual training.

So you push yourself up, rubbing the sleep out your eyes. There’s a bleary smirk wiped across his features, the dumbest, dopiest look ever that you can so easily distinguish in the dark of his room, and something simmers within you.

You don’t say anything as you move closer, you’re gentle with your movements and Caleb waits patiently. You settle your entire weight on him, pressing your torso flush against his, and his hands hesitate before naturally come to rest on your back.

You don’t react despite how intimate the position is. You’re too tired to feel embarrassed.

Sure, you’ve cuddled with Caleb plenty before, but this version is entirely different. Your hips are spread, legs parted and pressing into his side. You’re practically folded on top of him like this, and you recognise one shift could change the entire trajectory of your night.

It’s comfortable though, the stretch is more than pleasant and you moan a little from the sensation. You feel Caleb tense beneath you, and you feel triumphant.

He relaxes once you’re settled, no doubt revelling in the intimacy of the cuddle. He has no reason to question your motives when you dig your chin into his collarbone, sweetly resting your face in the crook of his neck. Instead, he softly laughs.

“I’m not sure if you realise, but my voice is only gonna seem louder if you’re higher up like this,” he teases.

You merely shake your head, keeping your voice light as you murmur, “I know. That’s okay, because you aren’t gonna talk anymore.”

“Is that so?” He juts his chin away, trying to get a look at you. “Why’s that?”

You raise your head, fluidly connecting your lips with his. You feel him smile into the kiss, no doubt feeling beyond loved with how soft and warm this all felt. He was so clever, of course he’d somehow outsmarted you and gotten what he wanted.

Right?

It’s abrupt the way in which you lunge; you tug at the bottom of his lip and take advantage of the gasp that escapes. He’s barely found a second to place a hand on your face when you’re immediately licking into his mouth, savouring mint and hot wetness as you slide your tongue along his.

Finally, his hands tremble on the nape of your neck, and you press yourself infinitely closer. The feel of warm, slick muscle and hushed breaths has you both moaning into one another - your head spins as you realise there are prettier sounds that can come from Caleb.

Before you can balance yourself to launch your next attack, Caleb takes the lead and suckles gently on your tongue. He’s confident suddenly; his once shaky hand resting comfortably and pulling you closer to him, an act you didn’t even think was possible at this point.

You squeeze your eyes shut at the feeling, unable to keep your whines at bay.

It’s filthy, the sounds of squelching and whimpering that resound has you scrambling to keep up. You refuse to let this become his moment - this was meant to be your punishment after all.

You clench onto the fabric of his shirt, a frantic move accompanied by your groans and his sighs. His hands stay infuriatingly polite, simply resting on the barest slither of skin available to him - but you know he wants more. You can practically feel his hands itching to at least press the pads of his fingers deeply into your skin.

To trace you, to breathe you in and consume you entirely is all Caleb wants. You’re more than aware of that - with memories of the old days comes the recognition of knowing you’d felt the same way too even back then. He’s always wanted you, and you him.

You hike your leg higher up in an attempt to stabilise yourself. Your knee drags against his waist and you feel him jerk from the change.

It’s a singular move that causes a sudden spiral because your heat rests against him entirely and— oh God, he was so big, wait—

“Pips– I—“ One kiss, another, you grip his hair and he moans into your mouth. “We should— Hah, we should— stop.” And really, it comes out weakly, a slurred command that has no precedent over when you decide this ends.

Could he feel your clit throbbing against his cock? Was he desperately trying to stop himself from rutting into you?

You rock gently, just once and ever so subtly between every flick of your tongue against his, and try not to grin when you feel the air knocked out of his lungs.

Poor Caleb, he must be losing his mind trying to restrain himself.

For a moment you pity him, but then his voice hums between kisses and logic suddenly kicks in. You can practically hear all the excuses he’d use to explain getting this far - it’s always you being too innocent, or not understanding what you’re doing.

The thought enrages you, and it’s enough to remind you why you’d started this in the first place.

There’s an itch inside of you that begs to continue, to ignore your dignity and use him as you please - you could prove him wrong, show him just how pissed off you are and satisfy your needs at the same time.

You really do want to do that.

Hm.

Caleb whispers your name, a sound that sends you into a realm beyond here with him.

And yet, somehow, you crawl right back.

You chirp a quick goodnight and scramble under the covers, turning away as you nestle into your side of the bed. You’ve barely caught your breath, but feeling the tenseness of Caleb beside you has you giggling and catching it back all at once.

“Night Colonel! See you after work.”