Julia

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then what did he do?

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

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

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

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

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

THUD.

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

It wasn't thunder this time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then you saw the red suit.

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

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

Spider-Man?

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey! Hey, get inside-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait…

What?

You blinked.

His balcony?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Djed?!” The name burst out of you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wanna see?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll help,” you said immediately.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just act normal, you told yourself.

He’s hurt.

You’re just helping your neighbor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. Yeah, got it.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I...?” you asked softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Djed went completely quiet.

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

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

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

You completely forgot how to breathe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck,” he hissed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tie you up?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like that?”

“Yes,” you breathed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He pressed in an inch and stopped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For tonight, the world outside could wait.

Right now, he was just yours.

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désiré had never given you a reason to be afraid of losing him. he had never disappeared for days, never played games with you, never made you question whether he cared.

he called when he said he would, remembered the things you told him, checked that you had eaten, showed up when you needed him and always seemed to know when something was wrong even when you insisted you were fine.

he was gentle with you in a way you weren’t used to and that was maybe why loving him scared you.

you had grown up learning that love was temporary, people could say they loved you and still leave. you had never really healed from any of it, you had simply learned how to carry it and continue living.

when désiré came into your life and treated you like you were worth staying for, some part of you immediately started waiting for the moment he’d realize you weren’t.

you wouldn’t answer his messages immediately, then you started convincing yourself that you were giving him space.

a few hours became an entire day, then two and désiré never understood it.

dez❤️‍🩹:

you okay?

did i do something?

i miss you

sometimes you would stare at the screen for hours, your heart aching so badly that you wanted to call him but instead, you would put your phone down.

for you, if you let yourself get too attached he would eventually leave and if you left first, at least you’d be prepared.

one night, you were lying in bed staring at the ceiling when the thought came again.

he’s going to leave you one day.

he’s too good for you.

he’ll find someone better.

before you could stop yourself, your mind had already created an entire future where désiré sat across from you and told you he didn’t love you anymore.

your chest tightened so you did what you always did, you pulled away.

the next morning, désiré woke up to another unanswered message. he genuinely didn’t understand because every time he thought the two of you were getting closer, you disappeared.

he was starting to believe that maybe you simply didn’t love him the way he loved you.

a week later, he came to see you and didn’t immediately pull you into his arms.

“hey.”

“hi,” you stepped aside and he entered.

“what am i doing wrong?”

your heart dropped. “nothing.”

“so why do you keep leaving?”

“i don’t know.”

“you do. you disappear for days, sometimes you don’t answer me at all then you come back like nothing happened.”

you swallowed. “i’m sorry.”

“i don’t want an apology. just tell me what you're thinking.”

you couldn’t tell him. how could you explain that you were terrified of being loved or just loving? so instead, you said the worst possible thing.

“maybe you should leave.”

“what?” he asked like he thought he hadn't hear well.

“you’d be better off with someone else.”

“don’t say that.”

“it’s true.”

“no.”

“you deserve someone who doesn’t do this.”

“i chose you.”

your eyes filled with tears. “you’ll regret it.”

“why do you keep deciding how i feel? you keep breaking my heart just because you’re scared i’m going to break yours.”

you looked down, tears finally falling.

“please, let me help you.”

you shook your head. “you can’t because eventually you’ll leave.”

he closed his eyes, looking like he was trying desperately to keep himself together.

“so i’ve spent months trying to prove to you that i’m not going anywhere,” his voice cracked. “and you keep punishing me for something i haven’t done?”

“i’m sorry.”

“that’s the problem. you’re sorry every time then you do it again,” he wiped his face. “i love you so much but i can’t keep loving someone who keeps pushing me away every time i get close.”

you immediately shook your head. “désiré, please.”

he stepped backward and it was when you realized he wasn’t waiting for you to reassure him or going to stay until you calmed down.

“i don’t want to leave you but i don’t want to stay anymore,” he finally said.

so this is it. the final straw for him. you started crying harder and he looked at you for a long moment, then walked toward the door.

every part of you wanted to run after him but the same fear that had pushed him away for months kept you standing there silent, watching the man you loved leave because you had spent so long preparing yourself for his departure that you had accidentally caused it.