Nina

It’s been a month since you’ve left the N109 Zone. 

You had settled back into your old routine easily enough. Jenna had kept you busy, sending you out on mission after mission. However, Wanderer incidents had become relatively stable over the past few weeks, so much so that you were hardly fighting them. Your time had been taken up by training instead, spent out at either the facilities provided by the Hunter Association. 

Life had become so mundane as of late that you found yourself missing the thrill of the N109 Zone. It had kept you on your toes, challenged you and the investigative work had been far more rewarding, not to mention you had managed to retrieve the Aether Core’s other half, which was now safely hidden in your possession. To your chagrin, the modified protocore hadn’t done anything special. You had tried experimenting on it with your Evol, but all that was left was a dull shine. 

There was also another reason you were missing the N109 Zone though. That reason came in the form of a white-haired man with crimson eyes. Sylus. You couldn’t believe you were actually thinking it, but you were starting to miss the bastard. The lack of his stupid remarks and untimely jabs were starting to make you feel lonely. This was without mentioning that night of pleasure, of course.

No one had ever touched you like that. You still remember the way he had whispered filth into your ears, the way he had fucked into you without abandon. You had barely been able to keep up with him the next day at training. Stumbling like a fawn, your legs had been shaking so badly that the shopkeeper had grown concerned that your bones were experiencing some sort of unknown, sudden-onset deteriorating disease. Sylus had merely brushed it off, explaining that you had eaten something bad. The smug smile he’d sent behind the shopkeeper’s back had made your eye twitch. 

He hadn’t rewarded you like he had said though. His work had kept him busy, and it was Luke and Kieran that were coming around to keep you company for the remainder of your stay. The twins were definitely a strange pair, but they were sort of cute in a way, and you found that their bickering was reminiscent of the relationship between you and Caleb. 

Mephisto had also taken to accompanying you throughout the base. You weren’t exactly sure what the mechanical bird ate, but after a few little pets and scratches you felt as though it was warming up to you. 

Unfortunately for you, Sylus had left an indelible mark on both your mind and your body. It was probably the reason you were in this very predicament, with your hand stuffed down your shorts in the middle of the night.

You’d been trying to get off for a while now, but no matter how many times you rubbed your clit or tried fingering yourself, you could not get yourself to come. Your fingers couldn’t mimic the way Sylus had fingered you, couldn’t reach as deep inside of you. There’s an irritated grumble leaving you as you squeeze your eyes shut and let out a muffled scream into your pillow.

Taking in another deep breath, you’re deciding to give it another go. The pads of your fingers circle against your aching clit and you’re letting out a soft sigh, lashes fluttering. You imagine Sylus touching you, his lips against your skin as he rocks his hips into you. Wetness begins to leak out and you're biting your lip, letting out a low whine into the quietness of the night. Pleasure begins to coil inside your lower stomach and there’s more whines escaping you, fingers rubbing faster against your clit. You can feel the tension in your body beginning to build, back arching as you remember the way Sylus had spoken to you that night. 

“Please, please,” you’re begging out into the empty room, brows furrowing when the pleasure suddenly stalls and your chances of reaching an orgasm fade “no, please- fuck! ” 

You try and rub a little faster but it’s completely gone, your wrist aching with how long you’ve been at it. Tugging your hand out of your shorts, you stare at it as though it were a traitor. 

There’s frustration etched across your face, your cheek squishing against the pillow as you stare at the wall sullenly. Stupid Sylus with his stupid face and his stupid fingers and stupidly addictive cock. The man had completely ruined your ability to masturbate. 

At your wits end, you decide to give it one last try. You’re desperate, horny and utterly stressed. Just as you’ve managed to slip your hand down your sleep shorts again, your phone begins to ring.

You squeeze your eyes shut, clamping your mouth shut to prevent the scream that wants to escape. It wouldn’t do you any good to get complaints from your neighbors. Grabbing at your phone blindly, you hit the accept button.

“Hello?” you mumble into the phone.

“Stop squirming around in bed, it’s making Mephisto uncomfortable.”

You shoot up when you hear the voice on the other end of the line.

“Sylus?” your voice is a hiss, eyes darting towards the window.

Your cheeks are hot with embarrassment when you see Mephisto sitting on the railing of your balcony, his little crow head tilted as he stares at you. A wince escapes you at the thought of the crow watching your pathetic attempts to get off and it has you mouthing a silent apology towards the bird. 

Mephisto only lets out an indignant caw , turning his beak to the side haughtily.

You groan, flopping back down onto the bed.

“How are you able to see me right now?” you ask, brows furrowing.

“Look outside,” Sylus replies.

You stumble onto your feet, staring out into the darkened surroundings. Eyes squinting, your face presses against the glass, eyes catching on a camera attached to a street light. Oddly enough, the camera tilts towards you. You tilt your head to the other side and it mimics you. 

So he was keeping tabs on you. Creepy, but also a little comforting.

“It’s been a long time,” you murmur, staring out of the window again.

Mephisto’s begun to groom his feathers.

“Do you miss me?” he asks.

You can hear the creak of his chair as he leans back in it.

“No,” you retort, a frown settling on your face. An outright admission of your feelings would be confessing that you would be warming up to him. You weren’t about to give him the satisfaction, especially not when he had more or less ignored you for a month. 

“Liar,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice, “in fact, it seems as though my favorite little Hunter is struggling to sleep.”

His favorite little Hunter. The idea of being anyone’s favorite, much less Sylus’s has your heart fluttering wildly. He had been thinking about you then. There’s a darker part of you that hopes Sylus has been having the same problems as you. It would serve him right, after all.

Sylus sighs into the phone, “I did warn you,” he murmurs, “I told you I wouldn’t be there to please you when you were feeling needy.”

“I- I am not feeling needy!” you respond, voice pitching as you protest against his observation.

“Another lie,” he clicks his tongue and you hear more rustling on the other end of the line, “is it your plan to keep lying for the duration of this call, my dear Hunter? Hm?” 

His taunt has you gritting your teeth, until all your frustrations come pouring out.

“You’ve stolen my ability to orgasm!” you snap into the phone, your tone accusing.

“My, my,” Sylus drawls, “how bold you’ve become, hissing at me like a little kitten.” 

“It’s not funny, Sylus” you say, anger replaced by a sense of gloom “ever- ever since that night, I haven’t been able to come at all.”

There’s silence on the other end of the line. You don’t think he was expecting you to actually be honest. There’s a soft sigh escaping you, eyes slipping shut. You can hear the sound of him breathing, then an odd clinking noise.

“I have to go,” he says suddenly and the line cuts off.

You scoff, looking at your phone screen to see that he has in fact ended the call. What an asshole. You had just confided in him about your intimacy issues and the man had left you high and dry. A frown settles on your face and you almost feel hurt by his sudden change in behavior. Perhaps you shouldn’t have expected more from the leader of Onychinus. 

There’s a tapping noise against the glass of the window. Mephisto lets out another little caw , his wings fluttering for a bit as though waving goodbye. You lift your own hand, giving him a wave and watch as he flies out into the night. Just like that, you were all alone again.

You sigh, crawling back into bed with a pout on your face. The blankets are tugged up over your body, eyes slipping shut as you try to fall asleep. It doesn’t come easily, your efforts upended when your phone lights up.

Tapping across the screen, the messages between you and Sylus pop up. He’s sent you a video. 

Deciding to press play, your throat dries when you see what he’s sent you. His thighs are spread slightly, belt undone as he palms himself through his trousers. You nearly whimper at the sight, moving the phone closer to your face. The bulge of his cock is clear, making his trousers look uncomfortably tight.

You understand why he ended the call so quickly now. Sylus was trying to help alleviate the frustration caused by your little problem. You can hear Sylus let out a low groan and you’re biting your lip, letting your thighs squeeze together.

He palms himself a few more times before he’s dragging down the zip of his trousers. His chair creaks as he lifts his hips and you’re letting out a whimper into the air when you see his hard length in his boxers.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” he murmurs, palming himself a little more before he’s pulling down his boxers as well.

Arousal is pooling between your thighs and your pussy begins to ache. Drool collects in your mouth at the sight of his uncovered cock. It’s just as thick as you remember, his tip just as dark from that night. 

Sylus lets out another groan, his hand wrapping around his cock. You can’t wait any longer, your hand shoving itself back down into your shorts. The stickiness of your arousal is welcome, and you’re letting out a whine, fingers circling your clit.

You can see him squeeze as his knuckles tighten before his hand is dragging up and down, stroking his cock at a lazy pace. His breaths are heavy and he’s shifting again, his thighs spreading a little more as he gets comfortable.

“Work has been terribly stressful,” Sylus says, his wrist rotating as he jerks himself off, “I imagine you’d need the relief too. My fat cock in your mouth, you could just keep it on your tongue, get lost in the haze. Would you like that, sweetie?”

You’re nodding at the phone even though he can’t see you. Your fingers are rubbing at your clit desperately, whining into your pillows as he strokes himself for you.

Sylus lets out a low grunt, his hand moving faster. It’s an enthralling watch. His pretty fingers wrapped around himself, the tufts of white hair at the base of his cock and the little telltale twitches of his thighs. 

“Such a shame you aren’t here,” he sighs and your noises are growing more frequent, feeling the ache in your cunt fade as pleasure builds, “I could’ve taken you here on my desk, given you some of those kisses that you so desperately crave.”

Your body is flushed, sweat beginning to cover your skin as your hips roll, grinding your pussy against your fingers.

“Ah fuck ,” he whispers, squeezing around his cock a little tighter. Pre-cum has begun to drip from his cock steadily and you want to somehow teleport through the screen so you can lick it up for him, feel the taste of him on your tongue. 

You rub faster, moaning when he zooms in so you can see the fat tip of his cock wet with his cum.

He grunts, his hand twisting around his length. You can see his thighs twitch a little more and your own orgasm is building like never before.

“Come with me, baby” he encourages, his cock twitching in his grasp.

There’s a moan of his name and you’re coming on your fingers, thighs twitching uncontrollably as your orgasm hits. It’s a struggle to keep your eyes open, a mewl leaving your lips when his cock jerks, thick cum spurting out of his tip. He sighs, letting go of his cock, allowing it to slap against his abdomen, cum smearing across his skin. 

You can hear his deep laugh and he’s moving the camera so you can get a better look at his spent cock.

“Sleep well, Miss Hunter.”

The video ends. You’re panting softly, staring up at the ceiling. You can hardly believe he’d done that.

Deciding to give him a little gift of your own, the bedside lamp flicks on and you're squirming out of your shorts, moving your camera between your thighs so you can snap a picture of the aftermath. The image is a bit blurry, but you’re too tired, sending it off to him anyways. It seems an orgasm was what you needed, your eyes drooping shut as you sink into a slumber.

A few hours pass and you’re stifling hot. You don’t remember your blankets wrapping around you so tightly or your face pressing into a hard pillow. Still under the spell of sleep, you squirm around, letting out a sleepy grumble. It’s so hot .

When the heat doesn’t cease, your brows are pulling together, bleary eyes making your vision fuzzy. It’s still dark outside from what you can tell. You try to move, but something is keeping you in place. Your skin prickles, breath coming out in short little gasps. A scream tears out of your throat when you see a man’s figure on your bed. There’s a bit of flailing and your leg is kicking out, landing a blow to the man’s stomach. You kick him again and he’s letting out a pained grunt, falling off your bed with a loud thump . Scrabbling for your gun, your finger hooks around the trigger, aiming it at the man as he stands up.

There’s no time to shoot, red and black vines swirling across your arms and jerking your gun away from you.

Oh.

You rub at your eyes a little more to see Sylus standing there, sweatpants hanging low on his hips. 

He examines your gun, shaking his head when he realizes it’s not even loaded.

“Your reaction time is poor,” he says, tossing your gun onto the bedside table.

“What- what are you even doing here?” you demand, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I thought it was obvious,” Sylus replies, laying back down on your bed. 

He stares back at you, smirking when you don’t come to lay down with him. He uses his Evol, the tendrils lifting you in the air and laying you down gently.

You feel his arms wrapping around you, tugging you back into the warmth of his chest.

“You enjoyed my little show,” he whispers, his fingers running through your hair absentmindedly.

“I did,” you admit, peering up at him.

He stares back at you, his hand coming to cup your cheek. You feel his thumb smoothing over your skin and the action is so soothing that it has your eyes fluttering shut. 

“I never said you could break into my apartment though,” you say.

“Such a minor detail,” he sighs, a smile on his face, “you ought to be more grateful that I’m here. I am a busy man after all.”

“Too busy,” you mutter under your breath.

“Oh? How telling, darling” he grins at you devilishly. 

You shoot him an unimpressed look, turning so that your back is to him.

“If I had known you were going to be so difficult, I would’ve brought you something,” he says, his hand squeezing your hip. 

You don’t respond. He’s letting out another sigh, his Evol activating as he turns you back towards him.

“Must you always be so stubborn?” he whispers.

You get lost in his eyes and his hand cups your cheek again as he lowers his head towards yours.

“I’ve missed you,” he confesses, his lips brushing over yours. 

Your cheeks flush. You weren’t exactly expecting him to confess that he had been missing you. It appeared as though you were both entering dangerous territory. Festering feelings only led to a convoluted mind. 

There’s a smirk on his face and you can feel him plant a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Aren’t you going to return my affection?” he asks, his nose nudging against yours, “I’ve been generous, haven’t I?”

You’re too stubborn to respond and he huffs out a laugh, eyes glimmering with mirth.

“Very well,” Sylus says, “I suppose I’ll just have to fuck it out of you.”

His lips are on yours in an instant. This kiss isn’t rushed like when you had first kissed, languid instead of rough. The soft sounds of your lips smacking together fills the room and Sylus can’t keep his hands off of you, his palms smoothing over your waist and hips, squeezing at the fat he can grab.

Sylus is pulling away, sitting up so his back is against the headboard of your bed. He offers you his hand and you take it, letting him pull you towards him. You settle onto his lap, straddling him, thighs on either side of his hips. He’s kissing you again and it’s you that’s cupping his cheek, guiding him. 

He groans into your mouth and you whine back, arms looping around his neck. There’s spit leaking out from the sides of your mouths with how passionate the kisses have become. Sylus licks into your mouth, his tongue grazing yours. Your hips are beginning to rock, gasping into his mouth when you feel his hardness between your thighs. The fact that you have this much of an effect has you smiling against his lips.

“Something funny?” he asks, peering down at you.

You shake your head, your thumb swiping over his lips gently, “I just didn’t expect you to be so… affected by me.”

“Perhaps you aren’t aware of your own allure then,” he says, head dipping down to kiss you again.

You turn your head however, and his lips end up landing against your cheek. He tries to kiss you again and you deny him, sucking in a deep breath to gather your wavering confidence.

“I want you in my mouth,” you whisper, staring up into his eyes.

There’s a smirk spreading across his face at your admission.

“Don’t laugh!” you whine, smacking his chest.

“It appears I may be a bad influence,” he says, his thumb stroking over your jaw, “or perhaps I am yet to discover the depths of your depravity.”

He’s leaning forward, grip tightening on your chin to give you a kiss that you can’t escape.

“Go on then,” Sylus says, letting go of you.

You move off of his lap, settling between his spread thighs. Your hungry eyes take in the bulge under the fabric of his sweatpants, a small smile spreading across your face.

Leaning forward, you press a kiss to his clothed cock. It twitches under your lips and you hum softly, fingers pulling down his sweatpants to free his cock.

You let out a sigh when his cock springs out, your hand reaching for it greedily. The throb of his cock is hard to ignore, and you’re sneaking a glance up at Sylus.

He’s staring at you, his eyes dark. You can feel his fingers spread across your scalp, threading into your hair. It has you leaning forward, your eyes on his as you kiss the tip of his fat cock gently.

Sylus shudders, biting his lip. You frown when he doesn’t make any noises. Renewing your efforts, your hand squeezes a little tighter, eyes catching on the way pre-cum gathers at the tip.

It has your mouth opening eagerly, tongue lapping up his arousal. The taste only has you addicted, mouth enveloping the head of his cock.

Sylus groans, his hand tightening in your hair.

“I think you have missed me,” he says through gritted teeth.

You shake your head, eyes fluttering shut as you sink your mouth down on him further. His cock is so thick your mouth has already stretched out, struggling to keep your teeth from grazing against his sensitive skin. 

“Keep going, baby” he murmurs, his hand guiding your movements. You can’t fit him into your mouth, not entirely, so it has your hand stroking around the length you can’t reach.

Sylus begins to guide your head, letting your mouth slide up and down his cock as you swirl your tongue. His head is falling back, and you whine when you see the bob of his adam’s apple.

Your mouth suckles harder against the blushed head of his cock, more pre-cum filling your mouth. You swallow it down eagerly, making a soft noise at the taste. Pulling off, you press some more sticky kisses against the tip of his cock and you smile when Sylus nearly whines. 

His cheeks are pink when you look up at him, his pupils dilated with lust. 

“I don’t take kindly to teasing,” he says hoarsely, his hand brushing yours away as he grasps the base of his cock. 

You pout up at him, annoyed that he had removed your hand. Even you don’t know the depths of your own lascivious nature as your head dips lower, mouth latching onto his fat balls.

You bite back a laugh when he grunts, your mouth opening as you suck one of them into your mouth. It feels so good and you’re moaning around it, pussy beginning to ache with want. Sylus strokes himself and you keep your eyes on his, tilting your head as you try and fit both of his balls into your mouth.

“How unbecoming of a Hunter,” he hisses, brows drawing in together as his gaze hardens, “do they know how filthy you are? Sucking my balls into your mouth like a whore .”

You whine, sucking harder around his balls. The taste of his skin has your head swimming, eyes slipping shut. It’s almost relieving, your mind taking solace at the fact that you don’t have to be in control. 

Pain stings across your scalp as Sylus tugs on your hair, pulling your head up. Almost immediately, your tongue is lolling out and he moans, smacking his cock against the pinkness of your tongue. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, “you look beautiful like this.”

You smile, ignoring the uncomfortable ache in your stomach at his compliment, mouth wrapping around his cock again.

“Take it, baby” he continues, his hand pushing your head down slowly. He’s entirely too big, your eyes beginning to water with how far down your throat he is. 

You do your best, head bobbing until your nails are scratching down his thighs, leaving red welts as he pushes your head down fully, your nose hitting the tufts of hair at the base of his cock.

He pulls you up soon after, cooing at your watery eyes as you cough. 

“You’re too big,” you murmur, opting to place soft kisses along his length.

He hums, hand cupping your jaw.

“I could always train you.”

The utterance of such words has your breath hitching and he’s grinning at you, his head lowering as he kisses you sloppily. 

Sylus tugs you up, pulling you back onto his lap.

“Are you sure you didn’t miss me?” he asks, thumbs brushing away the tears that had wet your cheeks when you were swallowing around him.

You nod. His tone has you questioning your relationship with him however. There’s always a sense of softness underlying his actions, as though Sylus sees you for something more . 

He’s making a mess of your feelings, pulling you apart piece by piece and putting you back together the way he wants, pieces of his tenderness embedded within you, much like the Aether Core.

“A shame,” he murmurs, his eyes boring into yours.

You know he can see through your little facade. It’s why the next kiss he gives you is the most tender one yet. His lips work against yours gently, his hands cradling your head. There’s an unspoken promise held within it.

But there isn’t time to dwell on the feelings that are blooming in your heart. Time is sparse in a world like yours and you don’t know when you’ll see him again.

Sylus pats your hip and you’re squirming around, letting him pull off your shirt and shorts. He sighs when he sees your breasts, thumbs brushing the underside of them before he’s reaching for your nipples.

You whimper, head tipping back as he gropes at the fat of your tits. To distract yourself, your hand is slipping between the two of you, hand finding his hard cock. It wraps around him and you begin to stroke the throbbing length. 

Sylus lets out a low groan at the feeling of your soft hand caressing him. His eyes flutter shut as he sucks your nipple into your mouth. You gasp when he bites down gently, feeling the catch of his teeth on your sensitive skin. 

He pulls off of your breast with a pop , and you can hardly bare it anymore, pushing at his shoulders to rise up. Sylus watches with lust-lidded eyes as you grasp his cock, pressing it against where you need him most. He grips your hips, sending you a lazy grin.

“I must say I do enjoy having you on top of me,” he murmurs, his thumb finding your clit. 

You whimper, heat coursing through you as he rubs the little bud, his hand guiding you to sink down on him. You don’t think you could ever get used to the stretch of his cock, the way he sits snug inside of you, as though you were made for each other.

“ Fuck ,” you whimper, hands pressing against his chest, “you- you’re so big .”

“So you’ve said,” Sylus smiles, his hand squeezing your ass, “now indulge me. ”

You nod, hips rolling against his lap. He reaches for your hands, fingers lacing together, a feeling you had dearly missed. Peering up into his eyes, you squeeze his hands, a serene smile spreading across your face as your hips rise and fall. 

Sylus groans at the feeling of your skin slapping against his thighs with every bounce on his lap. The tip of his cock hits the sensitive spot deep inside of your cunt so deliciously that you’ve begun to drool, a cockdrunk giggle slipping out of you as you ride him.

The giggle morphs into a moan when he spanks your ass, your body jolting forward. Sylus’s touches have grown rougher, his hands squeezing almost painfully at your flesh.

“Tell me you miss me,” he hisses and you squeak when you feel him grip your hips, using you like a doll for pleasure when he plants his feet flat against your bed, his hips thrusting up so he can bury his cock in your hot pussy. 

“I don’t,” you hiccup, hands gripping his shoulders as you try to keep up with the roughness of his movements.

Sylus growls and you feel like shrinking away when you see the glare on his face. He almost seems… desperate. You both understand what’s unfolding in this very moment. Desperation, validation, affection. He seeks it from you as though he were a tempest. 

His hand shoots out, gripping your cheeks. You can feel your lips jut out into a pout and he’s leaning forward kissing you messily. You whine, pressing yourself closer, tits squishing against his firm chest. His hips have never slowed, and you’re gasping into his mouth, hands slipping into his hair as he bounces you on his cock.

“Did it ever cross your mind that we may be bound to one another?” Sylus says, his words spoken against your lips.

“Bound?” you pant, your arm wrapping around his neck to support yourself as the burn in your thighs grows more intense.

“Bound,” he affirms, “the Aether Core. It ties me to you in a way that I cannot be tied to another. Perhaps-” he grunts when you slump against him, your hips swaying back to meet his thrusts so that your cunt can swallow his cock, “ perhaps you are my other half .”

The idea he’s proposing sounds absurd. It’s no less than implying the two of you are meant to be together. 

“Don’t- don’t be stupid, Sylus,” you say, feeling his lips leave stinging kisses across your sternum before finding your breast against, his mouth enveloping the mound. 

He nips the side of your breast in retaliation. 

“I am not stupid,” he murmurs, his tongue flicking against your nipple.

“You are ,” you protest, thighs squeezing tighter around his hips when his hand slips between your bodies, thumb rubbing against your clit again.

“I am not ,” he affirms, his forehead nudging against yours so he can stare deep into your eyes.

“I can see it,” Sylus says softly, his nose nuzzling yours, “I can see it in your eyes. The want, the longing . You have missed me.”

You open your mouth to protest but he’s drowning your voice out with a kiss. He swallows every word that threatens to come out, his cock driving deeper and deeper until you’re crying out.

“I missed you!” 

He lets out a laugh and you tuck your face into the crook of his neck, hiding your embarrassed expression. 

“No need to be so shy,” he whispers, “I may revel in the fact that you’ve missed me, but you’re forgetting about my own feelings.”

He grasps your hips, his pace slowing slightly, until you can feel his entire length press inside of you.

“No one else will ever feel this,” he whispers, strong arms wrapping around your waist, “no one else will ever be balls deep in this pretty, little cunt.”

You sink your teeth into his shoulder, moaning. 

“That’s it,” he coos, and the drag of his cock is too hard to ignore, your walls clenching around him tightly as though not wanting to let him go.

“ My pretty pussy,” he whispers against your ear “ my pretty, little Hunter. No one will ever have you.”

His possession has you shuddering, face pressing against his neck as you come around him. Sylus grits his teeth, the squelch of your cunt growing louder as your slick drips down his length, coating his balls.

“I only want you,” you whisper, cupping his cheek so you can kiss along his jaw, “I only want you so- so come for me .”

Sylus doesn’t think he’s ever heard you sound so sweet. The lilt of your words, the softness of your voice. It has him groaning loudly, his hands pulling you down, making sure your pussy is flush against the base of his cock as he comes.

You can feel the warmth of his cum, the way his sticky release covers the insides of your pussy. Your lips find his and you kiss him slowly, sweetly as though confessing your own heart’s desire.

He rubs his hands against your back soon after, your head falling against his shoulder. His cock softens inside of you and wetness between your thighs is almost uncomfortable. 

Sylus lays you down and you whimper when his cock slips out of you. He grins at the sight of your trembling thighs, his lithe fingers spreading your folds to find the mess of both your releases leaking out of you. 

“A vision,” he murmurs, his fingers rubbing against your clit gently and you try to push his hand away, whimpering when the overstimulation has your entire body jolting. 

He ignores you, his other hand clasping yours as he caresses your pussy, playing with your folds before he’s lowering his head, placing soft kisses against your mound. Sylus licks up a long stripe, collecting both of your cum on his tongue before he’s pressing his lips against yours, feeding you the mix of essences.

You moan at the taste, squeezing his hand as you suck on his tongue sloppily. He smiles against your lips, pecking them gently before he’s drawing back.

Your body is utterly spent, eyes slipping shut. You can feel Sylus moving, feeling his lips against your cheek as he peppers fleeting kisses across your face while a warm cloth swipes between your sore thighs. 

Sylus tugs you into his chest and you press yourself closer, face burying itself into his chest. 

“I missed you,” you repeat, quieter this time. 

He hums, his hand stroking your hair soothingly as you both unwind.

“I know,” Sylus murmurs, tilting your head so he can press a kiss to your forehead.

You feel your heart swell at the affection and it has you peering up into his eyes. 

“Have I surprised you?” he asks, a smirk settling on his face.

“You always surprise me,” you breathe out, trying to meld your body against his.

He grins, arm slinging around your waist comfortably. 

“Will you stay?” you ask after a few moments, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

You watch as his eyes shut and it’s you that’s petting his hair this time, playing with the soft strands as he contemplates your question.

“For a few days,” he whispers, his hand finding yours.

Sylus intertwines his fingers with yours, bringing your hand closer to his mouth as he places reverent kisses across your knuckles.

It’s enough for now, you think, when he looks into your eyes. 

It’s enough for now because Sylus will always find his way back to you. 

You’re starting to regret your plan to sneak into the N109 Zone. From being drugged to nearly being killed, you weren’t exactly faring well in the unfamiliar place. 

A deep sigh escapes you, fingers rubbing at your aching temples. The headache had gotten worse, the band around your head wrapping tighter and tighter. You couldn’t leave though, no matter how desperately you wanted to, not when the Aether Core’s other half was up for auction in a week’s time. Sylus had also been distant. Despite saving you from the night raid, he had hardly come to visit while you were staying at Onychinus’ base. The twins, Luke and Keiran had kept you company though. They weren’t as wicked as you thought them to be, only young men that were intent on working for Onychinus, driven by their own motivations. 

The week was bound to shorten however, and you were growing antsy. Any reservations you had about resonating with Sylus were fading quickly as the auction date grew closer. He was right in a sense, you two needed to resonate, especially after that night raid when the Wanderers had attacked. The auction wouldn’t go smoothly either, you knew that much. Sylus had money, but traitors were lurking everywhere. The shopkeeper’s voice rings in your head, reminding you that Sylus hadn’t been responsible for the explosions. Absolving him of being responsible had been hard enough.  

Plucking at the strap of your nightgown, you’re contemplating whether you should sneak out. Sylus had been accommodating enough so far, and you were tempted to push your boundaries. He had, after all, left a pile of clothes for you. Strangely enough, they were all in the right size, accompanied by Mephisto who had let out a loud caw before flying out, its claws making a playful swipe for your hair. 

A few more anxious plucks at the strap of the nightgown and you’re sneaking out. Feed pad against the floor softly, nightgown swaying as you move through the hallway. You pause when you hear voices, hearing the thud of your own heart as you hold your breath. It’s Sylus and another man. The conversation is too muffled to listen into, incoherent words blending in together.

The door creaks open and you’re tucking yourself behind a pillar, hiding in the dark. The sound of footsteps fades into the distance and the breath you’re holding escapes into a quiet exhale.

“You can come out now,” A voice drawls. Sylus. You hated how he could sense your presence. Stepping out from behind the pillar, your back straightens, walking into his room. It’s dark, just like him. Expensive furniture, books stacked onto a bookshelf and a bed on the other side of the large room. The curtains are open, moonlight flowing in through the windows, mixing with the ambient lighting. He sits behind his desk, eyes trained on you, nursing a cup of wine. “I see you’re wearing my gift,” he says, eyes dragging over the nightgown. You scoff, eyes narrowing at him, “It was hardly a gift, and it’s not like I could sleep in my Hunter uniform.”

He only takes another sip of wine, eyebrows raising. His nonchalance is making you feel irritated. “You’re avoiding me,” you announce, arms crossing over your chest, “is there any reason?”

He laughs, low and deep, “I thought you’d be grateful for the reprieve, or maybe you don’t hate me as much as you think you do.” That has you scowling. You want to wipe his stupid smug smile right off his face. “Relax,” he says, his fingers tapping against his desk as he leans back in his chair “I had more important things to attend to.” That catches your attention. More important things? Perhaps he’d have answers, and you needed answers, about the N109 Zone, about Onychinus, about anything . 

“Private matters,” he murmurs, red eyes keeping you in place “nothing for you to get involved with.”

Your scowl only grows deeper, almost forgetting what you came in here for. Your feet move across the carpet, hands landing on the edge of his desk in an attempt to look intimidating.

“I want to try resonating with you,” you say, deciding to change tactics.

He hums, red eyes boring into yours. “We already tried that, and unfortunately, you seem content on disliking me,” he replies.

A frustrated noise escapes you, “It’s your fault!” you accuse, glaring at him. 

He only stares back at you blankly. You feel like a child throwing a tantrum under his gaze. “Just- please? ” you ask, voice softening slightly. He’s letting out an inconvenienced sigh and your body is moving, red tendrils swooping around your body as he draws you closer to him. “Hand,” he demands. You reach forward, and his hand clasps yours, fingers lacing together. A deep breath gets sucked in through your mouth and your eyes squeeze shut, trying to channel your energy and resonate with him. You think about his stupidly handsome face, his low voice and the times he had saved you. Both of your knuckles are white with how tightly you’re squeezing his hand. There’s nothing though, absolutely nothing. No sparks, no glowing light, no Evol resonance. Letting out a defeated sigh, you let go of his hand. He stares back at you, eyes searching. “There is something wrong with you,” he says, drawing his hand back to take another sip of wine.

“Maybe if you tried being more likeable, this would be easier,” you retort, sending him another glare.

Sylus only laughs, his head tilting, “You weren’t so intent on resonating with me earlier. So much so that you shot me.”

“You shot yourself,” you correct, voice sharp, “and the change in mind is because of the auction.”

He peers over at you, eyes calculating. You can’t tell what’s going through his head, you can never tell. It puts you on edge. Sylus is a dangerous man and you aren’t able to predict a single one of his moves.

“You’re afraid of Wanderers,” he surmises, hands clasping in his lap. 

His chair rolls out a bit from his desk and your eyes are dipping to see his legs spread as he gets comfortable. There’s a stretch in the black trousers as his thighs strain against the material and you’re swallowing harshly, eyes snapping back up to meet his gaze. If he noticed your wandering eyes, he doesn’t say anything.

“I’m not scared!” you protest, feeling exasperated “I’m simply worried that something might happen. We both know that the Aether core might become unstable with energy fluctuations, and who knows what sort of Wanderers that flux might attract?”

“I am more than capable of handling any danger,” Sylus says, his tone dark, “or do you need a refresher of what happened after I saved you during the night raid?”

You wince at the memory. It appears he doesn’t like being underestimated. It’s even worse that you remember. There had been blood and screams when his Evol had eviscerated the men that had been there.

“No refreshers needed,” you reply quickly.

Your plan of resonating with him is ill-thought, you realise. You can’t get your mind to change, no matter how hard you try. Head hanging low, you decide to back off. Sylus is right at least. He would be capable enough of defeating any danger there, but his assurance isn’t enough to quell your doubts. Silence passes over you both, only interrupted by your feet shifting on the spot. 

“There is another way,” Sylus says slowly, a wicked grin spreading across his face, “it is less conventional of course, hardly attempted at.”

Hardly attempted at? Was he planning to put your life on the line? Maybe that would work out for him, weaken you enough to get you to resonate with him and then steal the Aether core lodged in your heart.

“And this way is…?” you prompt, raising your brows. 

His grin only grows wider. Sylus stands up, long legs stalking towards you until he’s standing in front of you, his red eyes staring down at you. His cold hand reaches out, fingers grabbing at your chin to tilt your head as his own head dips towards your ear. You shiver, feeling his warmth breath against your skin. “Sex,” he whispers.

Well, you certainly weren’t expecting that. Your cheeks are hot with embarrassment, gaze averted to the side.

He clicks his tongue, “Why so embarrassed? I thought you wanted to resonate, sweetie .” 

“You’re more insane than I thought,” you hiss, shoving at his chest. 

He lets out a throaty laugh, a smirk spreading across his lips as he stumbles back a bit at the force of your push. 

“You seemed desperate,” Sylus says when he stops laughing, “I was only letting you know of all the options.”

“That shouldn’t even be an option!” you snap, growing flustered by the second. Sex with Sylus ? He was a murderer and completely and utterly unhinged, not to mention the leader of an illegally run gang. You were not having sex with him. Your irritation festers, head falling into your hands as you stand there. He doesn’t say anything, only reaching for his wine and finishing off his cup. 

“Fuck me,” you sigh tiredly, rubbing at your aching temples again.

“Don’t tempt me,” he replies. Your head snaps upwards at that, glaring at him. Irritation has only led to you making a poor choice of words. 

“I’m leaving,” you say forcefully, holding your head high.

You should be leaving by now, storming off back to your room lying a few doors away. You should be, except your poor feet aren’t working.

He stares at you expectantly, a hint of smile on his face as his brows raise.

“I am leaving,” you repeat, voice hardening.

He only nods his head towards the door. Part of you wants to stay, to find out what he means, but the implications are clear and you won’t do that with him. Especially not him.

You don’t get very far though, the door lock fastening in place with a resounding click . His Evol curls around your body, the inky red and black lines tugging you back towards him. Sylus is reaching for you, his hand cupping your cheek. You have half the mind to lean into his touch. “I think we’ll both have more fun if you stay,” he whispers against your ear, arms drifting across your nightgown to wrap around your waist and tug you closer.

He peers down at you, and your breath catches in your throat. Without thinking, you’re leaning into him, body pressing against him.

“I think you want to stay,” he continues, hands sliding up to pet at your hips.

“You- you don’t know what I want,” you manage out, voice airy, “and I want to leave.”

He hums, hand finding your cheek again. His thumb rubs across your skin, and it sets you alight.

“Did you forget?” he murmurs, head dipping to meet your height, “I can see what people desire the most, and it appears you, my dear Hunter, desire me.”

You’re letting out a soft curse. You had forgotten about that stupid detail, about his ability to see what people desired. Squirming in his grasp, you try to get away, but he holds you still, letting out a disappointed sigh.

“Will you not indulge yourself?” he whispers, voice lilting. You think he could be a siren in disguise.

There’s a shuddering breath escaping you. You don’t get a chance to answer, not when he’s smiling against your cheek and pressing a soft kiss to it. Your hands find his shirt, forming fists to prevent your knees from buckling.

“We are the same,” he reminds you, lips brushing across your skin as he backs you up against the wall.

You manage a scoff, “We are not the same. You’ve done terrible things and killed people. You do whatever you want, sacrificing whoever you want if it betters your cause.” 

“Such insolent words,” he purrs, his hand curling around your neck “I have treated you with far more kindness than others that have crossed my path.”

A squeak leaves when he squeezes around your neck, your fingers trying to pry his ones away from your neck. He only tightens his grip, landing another kiss to your cheek and there’s heat between your thighs, a whine escaping you before you can swallow it down.

Sylus laughs, his hand falling away from your neck to grab at your hips instead.

“Caught you,” he coos, and with that his head is dipping, lips pressing against yours.

You whine again, arms wrapping around his neck. You’re too far gone to care, feeling the plushness of his lips against yours. It feels as though he’s trying to devour you, trying to swallow you whole.

The kisses are rough and harsh and his hands are slipping under your nightgown, sliding up the backs of your thighs to grasp at your ass. You gasp into his mouth, scrabbling at his shoulders. He grunts against your mouth, guiding your leg to hook over his hip.

“You are far more eager than you said you would be,” he murmurs, finally pulling away to let you breathe. 

Soft pants escape you, chest heaving as your hands drop from his shoulders, landing against his chest instead. He stares down at you, crimson eyes bright with arousal as they flit about your body.

“You’ve done something to me,” you mutter lamely, a weak excuse for responding so eagerly.

He raises his brows, his thumb brushing across your lips. He repeats the motion, over and over again until you're tempted to press a kiss to the pad of his thumb. You don’t get a chance, not when his thumb is pushing past your lips and meeting the resistance of your teeth. Blinking up at him, you tilt your head.

“You know I haven’t done anything to you,” he replies, “that would be too far, even for me. Now be good and open .”

He has to have done something to you. What other explanation is there for the way your mouth opens, sucking his thumb inside eagerly? Your head tips back as you suck on his thumb, tongue swirling around the digit. He groans, deep and unabashed and it has your hips bucking. “Patience,” he whispers, pushing his thumb further into your mouth. You gag slightly, sending him watery glare. 

Sylus only smiles back, keeping you in place as you suck on his thumb. The ache between your thighs is too hard to ignore, and your hand is sneaking down in an attempt to relieve the ache.

You’re horribly wet between your thighs, feeling your thighs practically slip against each other as you squirm. Your fingers only manage two full circles against your clit before Sylus is letting out a growl, tugging your hand free from where it had snuck into your panties. 

“I- I need-“ you whine, trying to sneak your hand between your thighs again.

“You need me ,” he hisses, eyes hard as he grabs at your wandering hand, gaze locking onto your slick fingers. There’s a sharp gasp that leaves you when his own mouth is enveloping around your fingers, his eyes on yours as he sucks them clean. You feel weak at the sight, a dreamy sigh escaping you. He smirks, forgetting your fingers to kiss you again. You taste yourself on his tongue, feeling the way he licks into your mouth, his hands squeezing at your hips.

He’s picking you up before too long, dumping you on his bed. You hide shyly when he rips your nightgown from your body, his eyes staring down at your bra and panties greedily. The bra goes next and he’s lowering his head, sucking your nipple into his mouth, tongue flicking against the pebbled bud. You don’t know what to do, arms wrapping around his neck to keep him there, trying desperately to seek relief. “So impatient,” Sylus mutters against your spit-slick skin, opting to suck on your other breast as his hand delves between your thighs. “Don’t stop,” you whimper, eyes slipping shut “please, don’t stop.”

He lets out a low laugh, fingers rubbing at you through your panties. “How obedient you’ve become. Squirming under my fingers like a little slut. Didn’t you say you hated me before?” he whispers. 

“I- I do hate you!” you grit out, but your hand is finding his wrist, keeping his hand there as you grind your clothed pussy against his fingers.

He scoffs disappointedly, body slinking down the bed until his nose is pressing against your panties and he’s breathing in. You feel as though you might faint at the depraved sight. His tongue laves across the fabric of your panties and you moan his name, fingers finding their home in his hair.

Sylus sucks at your clit through your panties, licking at the slick that seeps through the dampened fabric. 

“An intoxicating taste,” he comments, pressing a kiss to your thigh “I could do this for days.”

That little comment has you letting out a shuddering breath and words you might regret if your mind wasn’t so stupidly hazy. “I would let you,” you mumble, tugging his face closer to where you want him, feeling the press of his nose against your clit. He grins, red eyes staring up at you, “that can be arranged.” Sylus’s long fingers are pulling down your panties and he’s staring at your cunt, a deep groan escaping him. “Such a pretty pussy,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your clit. 

A strangled noise leaves you and his mouth is latching onto your pussy, sucking and licking like a man starved. Whines and whimpers escape you as you grind your hips against his tongue. He moans back into your cunt, the sound shooting up through your body, thighs twitching. Sylus keeps you pinned down, tongue laving against your wetness, drinking up your slick as it leaks. It’s almost too much, which is why your hand reaches for his. Sylus gives his own hand, fingers lacing with yours. You’re so lost in the haze of his tongue against you that you can barely hear his voice.

“Resonate,” he speaks into your pussy, his hand gripping yours tight. “What?” Your dazed eyes find his, bewildered. “I said, resonate ,” he repeats, sucking your clit into his mouth harshly. 

His teeth graze against the sensitive bud and your back is arching, hand squeezing his one back. Your Evol comes much easier this time, light emanating from both your hands as you resonate. The linkage takes place, and it has you reeling, body twitching as you come on his tongue. The light soon fades, his own Evol dimming down. He presses another soft kiss to your sensitive clit. “Some incentive and your body is reacting remarkably well,” he smiles down at you. You could hardly care about resonance at this point, pushing at his shoulders and crawling up onto his lap, lips pressing against his. He grunts at the sudden change in position, but kisses you back, his hands groping at your ass appreciatively. A whine gets swallowed up by his mouth, your hips rocking against his hardness wantonly. Your fingers pull at his shirt and he’s staring at you with spit-slick lips. He tugs his shirt free and you suck in a sharp breath, taking him in. While you do this, your hips pause in their movements and he’s letting out a click of his tongue, using his hands to guide you start moving again. “You resonated with me,” he whispers against your lips. “Hardly,” you murmur back, nails digging into his shoulders. “Don’t be like that,” he chastises, “I made you come on my tongue and this is how you treat me?” he pouts mockingly.

“Such a good girl, aren’t you?” He coos, guiding your hips to move in the way he wants to, “moaning and whimpering for me. Perhaps I should’ve suggested this path from the start.” You try to glare at him, but he’s only gripping your cheeks, prying your mouth open before his tongue is lolling out, dropping a glob of spit into your mouth. “Swallow, baby.” You do so almost immediately, mouth opening eagerly for more. He laughs, almost in disbelief, kissing you messily this time, letting you suck on his tongue. “I need you,” you whisper, pressing his hand against your tummy “need you in me, Sylus.”

His eyes flash and he’s kissing you harder, clothed bulge grinding up into your bare pussy. The drag of his trousers is stimulating, catching on your clit in a way that has you shaking on his lap. “You’re filthy,” he hisses, sucking harsh kisses against your neck “such a filthy slut, begging for my cock.” You whine in agreement, nodding mindlessly. The world is moving then, your eyes finding the roof as he settles between your thighs. He kisses you over and over again, before he’s drawing back, slipping off the bed to pull his trousers down. A loud moan escapes you at the sight, his fat cock bobbing between his thighs. The tip is dark with arousal, veins prominent against the skin. Part of you wants it in your mouth, to swallow his cum and feel the weight of his cock on your tongue, and the other part wants it inside of you, filling you up. Embarrassment forgotten, you’re spreading your thighs in what you hope is an enticing manner, biting your lip and batting your eyelashes over at him. He glances down at your glistening pussy, licking his lips. “In me, please” you sweetly request. He hums, crawling over you. He grasps his cock, tapping the tip of it against your clit a few times. Pre-cum beads at the tip, a fat glob dripping down. Your hand shoots out before it’s wasted, fingers catching the glob. Smiling up at him, you suck your fingers into your mouth, letting out an appreciative moan at the taste. His eyes darken at the sight, fingers dimpling the flesh of your thigh as he squeezes.

“You’ll regret this when you have to leave me,” he warns, “I won’t be there to stuff your pussy full or lick that pretty cunt when you’re feeling needy.” “Then make it count,” you retort, legs wrapping around his hips. He lets out a short laugh, kissing you again. Soft whines leave you when he pushes in, his cock sinking deep into your pussy. You think you might be able to feel him in your throat, his cock stretching you out so deliciously that it has you writhing. 

“So fucking tight,” he breathes out, kissing along your jaw “so warm. I can feel you clenching around me, baby.” 

“Fuck,” you mewl, nails scratching down his back as he thrusts into you. In any other situation, you might be mortified at the sounds.

The squelch of your pussy, his heavy balls slapping against your ass as he fucks you. It seems like his favourite thing to do is to hold your hands, though.

“So pretty for me,” he sighs, hips grinding deeper into your wet heat “such a good girl, hm? My good girl.”

The praise has your heart fluttering wildly, cheeks flushing.

“Oh, you like that,” he murmurs, his lips latching onto your tits again, “my pretty, little slut, all laid out for me. You could’ve had this cock earlier, I would’ve given it to you. I could’ve stuffed you full, or bent you over my bike and pounded this tight little cunt until you were screaming.” 

A hoarse moan leaves you. Your hands are squeezing his, legs tightening around him.

“That’s it,” he whispers encouragingly, “take my cock baby, it’s all yours.”

“Stop- stop talking like that,” you whine, writhing under his body.

“Why?” he responds, “does it feel better than you had imagined?”

“I wasn’t imagining-“

“Hush now,” he whispers, kissing you over and over again. You’re not sure how much more of this you could take.

His cock is pounding into you, punching out the air in your lungs. It feels too good, the throb of his cock and his whispered words against your ear. You hiccup, peering up into his crimson eyes. He stares right back at you, the look behind his eyes startlingly soft.

You shy away, head turning to the side, cheek squishing against the pillow. His hand turns your face back to him, nose nudging against yours gently. He kisses you softer this time, the sound of your kisses drowned out by the drag of his cock in your cunt.

“Come for me, baby” Sylus whispers, squeezing your hand “cream my cock.” 

It’s enough to have you shuddering around him, a whine of his name leaving your mouth as you cream on his cock, just like had told you to. He drinks up every noise, lips working against yours as he fucks into until he’s burying his cock deep inside, letting out a low growl against your ear as hot cum spurts from his tip, filling you up. 

You sigh at the feeling, body feeling limp. Sylus is slumped on top of you, his weight oddly comforting against yours. A kiss is pressed against his cheek and you can feel his smile from where he’s tucked his head into the crook of your neck.

It’s a little uncomfortable though, so you’re pushing at his chest to get him to roll off of you. Sylus does so with little noise and you’re curling up against his side, already missing the stretch of his cock.

“You were being nice,” you say softly, breaking the silence.

“Would you prefer it if I were rougher?” he asks in return, rubbing his hand against the curve of your hip soothingly.

You roll your eyes, pinching his bicep. 

“The auction will go smoothly,” he announces, his hand drifting to squeeze your ass, “we did resonate, after all.”

You had almost forgotten about that. A nod is your response and he’s dragging you closer to give you another kiss.

“Training begins tomorrow morning,” Sylus continues, “I need to see how strong we can be together.”

You’re letting out a groan, swatting his chest and shoving him away. 

“Leave me alone,” you mumble, burying your face into the pillows.

He smiles, arms curling around your waist to tug you back into his warm chest.

“Now, now. You were being so good earlier,” he whispers “I’d be happy to reward you, if you perform well tomorrow.”

His hand smooths across your stomach, hand drifting lower to delve between your thighs. You muffle the noise that threatens to spill out.

“You’re insufferable,” you mutter, eyes slipping shut.

“I think you like that about me,” Sylus murmurs, his fingers curling up inside of you, beginning to move at a leisurely pace. 

“You’re the worst, Sylus” you whisper, hips rocking as you try to get his fingers to sink deeper.

“Yet here you are, trying to fuck yourself on my fingers,” he purrs, his arm winding around your neck. You feel him squeeze and you’re whimpering, sinking your teeth into his bicep as he holds you in place, letting his fingers fuck in and out of you.

greenish-grey eyes flicked upwards to meet yours, and the man echoed your name. it sounded heavy on his tongue-- but not with angst; with care. "i'm back already," he grinned, wooden floorboards creaking with age as he stepped closer to the check-out where you remained.

a smile bloomed across your face. "missed me that much?" you questioned, teasing. "it's barely been a week."

jason shrugged noncommittally, hands raising playfully in surrender, though his freckled cheeks tinged a faint shade of red. "y'know you can't keep me away,"

the sound of your laughter combined, and floated its way to the ceiling of your bookstore. it clung to the wooden beams spanning the roof; seeping into the oak, willing itself into the history of the building.

when the laughter died down, you jutted your chin to the side-- motioning the back of your store. "a new shipment of second-hand books just arrived from metropolis; you know where to find 'em,"

jason saluted, "aye, aye captain," before making his way towards his desired items. the man would be kept occupied for a good little while with the boxes upon boxes of books you hadn't bothered to sort through yet; and you smiled quietly to yourself.

it was easy to recall the first time you had met jason; even easier to lose track of when your friendship had blurred into this slow, thumping heart-beat of comfort and familiarity. he came in at the beginning of each week, would purchase a handful of books, and would return the following week to do the same thing. after a few repeated cycles of this, you and him had begun to chit-chat beyond his payments-- and just like that, you had become acquainted with the large, handsome man.

beyond that, though, you didn't know much about him. as his fingers would dust across yours at the register, your eyes would linger on the collection of scars littered across his skin; but you never pushed. you understood that, while you looked forward to jason's arrival at your store like clock-work, the privacy of his life remained his.

the affairs he found himself tangled within outside of the haven you offered to gothamites alike was none of your business; all you could hope was that jason remained safe in whatever trials he thrust himself into.

especially now-- that thought crossed your mind as he approached a mere ten minutes later, with four books in his hands. dropping them on the counter-top, his cheeks dimpled. "i'm shocked i was able to pick only four, that new shipment is loaded with good shit."

you grinned, totaling the sticker-prices of the books into your register. "the four book only policy doesn't apply to you," you whispered, leaning forward ever so slightly, "take as many as you'd like." the scent of his cologne-- something earthy and inviting-- floated its way into your nose. you shivered.

jason's eyes widened softly, a dark eyebrow arching upwards. "willing to bend the rules just for me? i'm flattered," glancing towards jason's face, you wished for nothing more than to burn the image of his grin into your memory permanently.

"yeah, well," your eyes rolled, fingers typing away at your cash register, "you're a returning customer-- and i'm not worried you'll resell my shit for a lower price."

the sound of jason's laugh sounded nothing short of mesmerizing. "shouldn't judge a book by its cover," he said easily, "i'll put you out of business."

it was your turn to laugh softly as you reached beneath the front-desk, grabbing a re-usable bag for jason's books. the man took out his wallet, and dropped a twenty and a ten on the counter. "please," you scoffed, handing him his books, "the only way you'll put me out of business is by buying all of my fuckin' stock."

"that's right," jason agreed, nodding. black wisps of hair fell into his eyes, and he ran a sturdy hand through his locks. "i'll be back before you know it, pretty."

✩✩✩

night howled against the windows of your book-store, and the silence of after-hours was terribly loud. your keys jangled and clanked against your hip as you made your rounds-- making sure all the doors and windows were secured and locked. up and down each aisle you traversed, the smell of homey paper sticking to your skin as if the library was trying to fuse itself to you.

all the books were where they were supposed to be, and every possible place someone could break into was reinforced properly. you sighed, fingers clutching tightly onto the fabric of your leather coat. despite the familiarity and warmth your shop offered during the day-- there was something uncomfortable about it once night fell onto the city of gotham.

chuckling to yourself, you recalled the previous owner of the building nervously mentioning ghosts living within the walls.

how childish, you thought to yourself, unlocking the register to empty its contents, who believes in ghosts anyways? certainly not me--

a loud series of bangs on the back entrance of your store rattled the entire building, and the hairs on the back of your neck stood in urgency.

you remained in place silently, and in shock, for a few moments; save for a small lamp near the front desk, the rest of the lights in your bookstore were off-- who on earth wanted to be let into a seemingly closed bookstore?

when the banging continued, almost growing desperate, you had closed your eyes-- "fuck," you muttered, reaching into a cabinet within the front desk that held a baseball bat.

(living in gotham, you could have never been too careful.)

it took a few falsely-confident steps to make it to the back of your store, and the metal door that was the entrance from the alley-way at its behind. you swallowed, the pounding of someone's fist unrelenting against the cool metal. you considered yelling, alerting the potential threat to your prescence, but figured you'd lose the upper-hand-- so without much thought, you swung open the door, raising the baseball-bat as if to attack the perpetrator-- until exactly who it was startled you.

"red hood?" you gaped, fingers clutching tightly onto the bat as the vigilante's mask glimmered a cherry red underneath the subtle lighting of the moon. you were no stranger to gotham's silent heros; especially not as someone running a small-business that happened to remain open about an hour past dusk. seeing one in-person, much less face-to-face, was daunting; especially since you knew-- or at least, had heard-- what this one was capable of. shit, you thought idly, did he see me j-walk last night?

red hood raised his hands; or, well, one hand-- the other remained glued to his side, and upon further inspection, he seemed to be leaning heavily to the opposite side of his injury. when he spoke, his helmet had muffled his voice-- and the voice changer you assumed he had implemented, crackled and popped. if he had said anything else-- you were certain you would not have been able to distinguish it underneath the fuzz of his helmet's voice changer-- but you immediately recognized that the man was saying your name.

something ran down your spine, and your face contorted into a mixture of fear and confusion. "what the fuck?" you frowned, fingers itching at the wood of your baseball bat.

you soon realized, however, how useless the weapon was-- red hood pushed past you, barely brushing your figure, and into your book-store. you yelped in surprise, twisting your body to watch the vigilante as he traced, without error (as if he was familiar with the store layout), your bathroom. while you couldn't see him from where you stood anymore, you were able to watch light spill onto the wooden floor of your store-- a harsh, fluorescent glow lighting up the small bathroom.

exhaling deeply through your nose, you entered your store again and closed the back entrance to the door tightly-- locking the deadbolts, preventing anyone from entering or exiting. "hey!" you called out hurriedly, making your way towards where red hood was, "i'd appreciate it if you would tell me what the fuck you're doing in my book-store,"

red hood, very clearly, had made himself comfortable in the bathroom; his own jacket had been discarded and sat messily on the floor, and his black compression shirt was pulled up to just underneath his left pec-- a nasty wound, most likely from a knife, seeped blood onto his pants and onto the tiles of the bathroom floor. you heard the man hiss as he pressed a wad of damp paper-towel to the injury, and you cringed away harshly.

"fuck," you winced, a phantom pain shooting directly into the side of your mid-section.

red blurred your vision softly as red hood turned his head towards you. "do you have a first-aid kit?"

without answering, you moved into the tiny bathroom-- opening a cabinet on the wall to pull out exactly what he was looking for. you placed it onto the small counter-top, and popped it open; red hood immediately reaching for thread and a needle.

"hey," you stopped him, grabbing onto his gloved wrist, "there's a walk-in clinic right down the road-- i can drive you there, it'll take like five seconds--"

"no," red hood answered almost immediately, gently tearing his hand from your grip to continue rifling through your first-aid kit.

"no?" you questioned, eyebrows raising. "what do you mean no? you're bleeding out--"

"i'll be fine." he answered shortly, bringing a spool of thread to his mouth to tear a long string with his teeth. "and i came here for a reason," his voice changer crackled as he spoke.

confusion etched its way deeper onto your face. "what?"

red hood sighed, and the glimmer of his mask caught your eye as his head turned towards you; his stare was harsh, despite the fact that you couldn't even see his face. "you were the closest person i could come to," he answered awkwardly, one hand still holding the paper-towel to his wound, "closest person i know."

you opened your mouth to speak, simply baffled by what he meant; but his next actions stole the words right from your throat.

with his free hand, he dropped the medical supplies onto the counter-top, before gripping his helmet and tearing it off of his head; his vision remained glued to the floor as he shook his hair out, recognizable black locks falling onto his forehead.

"jason?" you gaped. "holy shit," you practically laughed-- because what were the odds the person you had seen less than seven hours ago was one of gotham's most well-known vigilantes. the humour in the situation, though, died out quickly-- as you watched his irises examine his wound closer now, slight panic arising in both of your throats.

moving without a second thought, your palms found jason's biceps, leading him to sit on the counter-top. "sit. let me do it," you said quickly, gesturing to the thread and needle.

jason gave a long exhale, resting his body-weight against the counter with little refusal; "you don't need to do this," he argued weakly.

you rolled your eyes, gently prying the paper-towels from his wound; luckily, with some of the blood cleaned up, was less serious than you had first assumed. "i want to."

"you didn't want to before i took the helmet off," jason laughed softly. the movement made him wince.

"that was because i assumed i didn't know you," you murmurred, tongue-sticking out of the corner of your mouth in deep concentration, "i couldn't have been responsible should anything have happened to a stranger. but now that i do know you, why not put the first-aid course i took four years ago to the test?"

though you didn't bother looking up, you could practically feel jason's face scrunching up. "so i'm your guinea pig?"

you offered the slightest of nods.

"i'm fucked."

"hey," you protested, "i patched up a kid with a scraped knee like last week. you're in great hands,"

"not quite the same thing as a minor stab wound, but still reassuring, i guess,"

jason felt you poke into a non-injured section of his torso gently with the needle, only to laugh. something spurred to life within your ribs.

✩✩✩

after about ten minutes of stitching, you finally finished-- tying off the last suture, your fingertips grazed his abdomen. they lingered, as if his body was pulling you in-- like something couldn't keep you from stepping away. jason's breath hitched.

you cleared you throat, reeling your hands back towards your body, remaining medical supplies tossed haphazardly onto the counter. "sorry," you breathed.

jason's hands brushed over the newly bandaged wound, examining carefully, before greenish-grey irises met yours in the small cracked mirror of your tiny bathroom. "don't be." he said simply, holding your gaze.

you had so many questions. they were burning at your throat, clawing at your tongue-- fighting you, willing themselves to be released. but the longer your eyes stayed trained on each-other's within the shitty little mirror, the less they wanted to escape.

it was odd; you had had this idea of jason, in the back of your mind-- every-time he stepped through your bookstore's doors, you wondered what kind of life he led. perhaps he was a teacher, or maybe a fire-fighter, you had day-dreamed once; he seemed like the kind of man that knew the real grit that covered every surface within gotham, and he seemed like the kind of man who wanted to erase it all. you had been right, in a way; because wasn't that what red hood stood for? nonetheless, the vigilante's identity had made your fingers quiver against his skin as you tended to his wound, and you knew jason was pointedly ignoring the tremor in your palms as you patched him up. you considered the fact that, he too, most likely knew it wasn't from who the version of himself he had hidden from you, but rather the one you thought you knew all too well.

the silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable. no, it was charged. the air between the two of you practically vibrated with what was once fear, now morphed into understanding, anxiousness; a yearning of sorts. it wasn't quite fear, but it was not quite relief either. now you had seen jason for what he truly was, and that was a scary thing to have admitted on both of your ends. you swallowed, eyes tracing downwards on jason's form in the mirror-- down the bridge of his nose, down to his lips (where they lingered for longer than what you wanted), and down to his jaw. examining him so closely, you could see the way his pulse jumped in his throat.

your reflection looked back at you—wide-eyed, flushed, and unsteady. naked, in some sort of sense. jason’s gaze dropped from the mirror to you, slow and deliberate, and you realized with a start that he wasn’t the only one feeling bare.

"why did you come here?" you asked, words so quiet on your lips you were certain jason had not heard you. when he answered, something spiked lowly in your gut.

"i told you," jason whispered back, "you were the closest person i trust."

"you trust me?"

"more than i'd like to admit." jason dragged a calloused hand through his hair. a nervous tick. "do you trust me?"

"yes." the answer was immediate, and the lack of hesitation made the corner of jason's eyes crinkle with the slightest hint of amusement.

the sound of his laugh sent sparks up your spine. "you shouldn't."

tilting your head to look at him, one of your eyebrows arched upwards. "you haven't shot me or anything yet, so i think i'm okay,"

jason laughed again. the sound was low, from the back of his throat. shamefully, your cunt throbbed. "you never know,"

"right," you agreed, "i think i'll take that risk."

jason watched your eyes flicker down to his lips, and took that as a sign-- crashing his mouth onto yours, he kissed you like his life depended on it.

there was nothing sweet about it, nothing gentle; nothing like the man jason was when he let his guard down around you, nothing like the man you thought you knew. his hands fumbled clumsily along your body, as if he didn't know what to do with them, until one of them cupped the back of your head and the other found your hip. using his strength, he kept you glued to his body; crooking your head to the side, you deepened the kiss.

jason groaned into your mouth once he felt your tongue drag against the fat of his bottom lip. he opened wider to allow you access into his mouth, and you grinned. it was messy-- spit dribbled down both of your faces, and your fingers had found themselves at jason's scalp-- pulling, tugging, willing him as close to you as he could get. the sounds of your breathing, laboured, shallow-- coupled with the wet noises coming from your kissing was obscene, and it echoed within the tiny bathroom of yours.

you began to suck on jason's tongue, and another pretty noise fell from his throat. using his hips, he shoved you backwards and onto the edge of the counter-top-- your ass digging into it's end. you whined, once you understood what he doing; jason used one of his knees to separate your legs, before he shoved his thigh right between your own.

the heat of your cunt, even through your jeans, was embarrassing. having jason's leg pushed up against your pussy, barely moving, barely giving you what you wanted-- he broke the kiss, voice raw and lips plump. "'s this okay?" he asked.

to his surprise, you laughed. "if it wasn't, i would have slapped you like.. five minutes ago,"

the man shrugged, bringing one of his hands to the side of your cheek-- his thumb idly playing with your bottom lip. "i was just making sure," he swallowed, "i didn't know if you wanted this."

"i mean," you started, eyes locking on the way his thumb lingered near the entrance of your mouth, "i would have preferred it if it didn't happen because you were stabbed."

jason nodded, corners of his mouth lifting upwards in the ghost of a smile, although there was little humor in his voice as he spoke, "me too."

"yeah?" you asked, voice teasing.

jason's voice was not teasing. "yeah."

something in your gut swirled, and you couldn't help but grind your hips-- your aching cunt-- down onto jason's thigh. he hummed, content at your action, finally shoving his thumb past your lips and into your mouth. he felt your tongue swirl around the pad of his thumb, lazily sucking as if you just needed something inside of your mouth.

when he spoke again, jason's voice had gone impossibly low. "i've always thought you were so gorgeous," jason began, "always thought you were way too pretty and too smart to be running a cute lil' shop like this, in this fuckin' city,"

without much thought, you nodded at his words-- the feeling of the seam of your jeans rubbing against his flexed thigh and knee, and onto your clit, far too intoxicating.

"i've been wanting to ask you out for forever, but every-time, i chickened out," he confessed, pushing his thumb deeper into your mouth, "that's it baby, grind that pussy onto my leg-- jus' like that,"

the sweetness of his confession combined with the filth of his praise made you moan around his digit-- hips quickening along his leg.

"i've thought about taking you out, maybe to see a nice lil' movie. maybe then-- oh, i know, feel's good, huh?-- maybe then we'd get dinner, there's a real nice place near china town i think you'd like,"

jason's words were becoming mush within your mind; nonetheless, they spurred you on, your clit pulsing and pussy sopping beneath the fabric of your ruined jeans and panties.

"then," he started, leaning forward to pepper kisses along your jaw, leading all the way to the shell of your ear, "then i'd take you home, and i'd make love to you so good, you'd never be able to fuck anyone else."

you moaned whorishly at his words, spit dribbling down your chin as his thigh brushed against your cunt again and again and again-- pleasure becoming all-consuming, and lust fogging every rational thought in your mind. "jason," you gasped out, words muffled by the man's thumb still in your mouth, "please." you begged.

"please what, sweetheart?" he questioned, pulling his finger from your mouth to let you speak, "tell me what you want."

all that consumed your mind was jason-- so that's exactly what you said. "you," you exasperated, fingers digging into his shoulders, "please i need you."

"mm," the sound of jason humming vibrated against your skin, his lips searing marks down your throat all the way to your collarbone. "keep begging, pretty girl. maybe then i'll give you what you want,"

grinding your cunt back and forth on his leg, your eyes welled up with tears of frustration; god, you needed him so badly. "jay," it fell from your lips in a gasp as jason began sucking harshly on your pulse-point, "please. please, anything you give me i- i'll take it, your fingers, your mouth, your dick--"

"m'giving you my thigh to grind on right now," you felt him smile against your skin, "isn't that enough?"

"more," you practically sobbed, other incoherent words flying from your throat at an embarrassing rate. back and forth and back again, humping jason's leg like a dog in heat. "please, jason."

pulling off of your neck with a pop, jason's lips glistened with saliva; the way he ran his tongue against the plump fat of his bottom lip, you'd think he was still able to taste you. "alright," he conceded finally, hooking two fingers into the waistband of your jeans to shrug them down your hips. when they had fallen to the floor, the man wasted no time in holding you tightly by the waist and propping you up onto the counter-top. the granite was cold against your bare bottom; you shivered.

before you could question what he was going to do next, jason sunk to his knees. it was tender, the way he studied the ruined fabric of your panties-- now on display right in front of his face. soft irises flicked upwards to meet yours, and your cunt throbbed with need. "please." jason paid your final plea no mind, lips connected to the plush of your thighs with a mission.

he kissed and he sucked and his bit-- teeth sinking into your leg just enough to make you moan, but not enough to hurt. darting his tongue outwards to soothe the blooming mark along your skin, he'd brush forward-- closer to your pussy-- to leave another violent hickey.

you began to squirm on the counter-top; hips involuntarily bucking towards jason's face-- seeking out any pleasure you could find. it was pathetic-- and if you hadn't been so drunk on fore-play, perhaps you would have cared about being so desperate in front of the man you liked. but the way your pussy was leaking down onto the granite, and the way your nipples had stiffened despite no attention being allotted to either of them-- you didn't give a fuck.

"patience," jason murmured, sucking deeply on your left thigh.

"i don't have much of it left."

at your snarky remark, jason's teeth bit into you-- the tiniest bit harder than his previous nips. you yelped, and he smiled against your skin.

opening your mouth to say something-- maybe beg, maybe cry, maybe snap-- jason cut you off when he reached two large hands forwards to grasp the edges of your panties. you face scrunched up, as if to say why not just pull them to the side? before a loud rip bounced off the walls of your bathroom.

within jason's hands-- the remains of your panties looked measley and useless; torn into two, jason tossed them onto the floor haphazardly.

"hey!" you gasped.

jason shrugged. "what? did you want me to keep them on you? not give you what you want?"

your face flushed, heat crawling up your neck. "well no,"

"exactly." jason leaned forward, lips pursing, and blew a cold gust of air onto your clit.

you couldn't fight the loud whine that escaped you at his actions, and jason's laugh rumbled deeply; his eyes danced upwards to your face again, and he made no effort to break the eye-contact as he pressed his mouth to your cunt.

the man licked a long stripe, flattening his tongue along your folds, slowly from your hole to your clit. you moaned, back arching away from the counter. 'jason!" you cried, fists clenching at the edge of the counter-top as he repeated his actions at a faster pace.

he moaned in response, reveling in the taste of you on his tongue, before his lips latched onto your clit. he sucked and sucked and sucked-- the sensation maddening. "i know," he cooed against your pussy, "you taste as good as you feel, baby,"

his tongue was unrelenting against your cunt-- jason lapping at your slick like a starved man. when he tilted his head downwards to lick and prod at your entrance-- the bridge of his nose brushed against your clit, and your hips stuttered along his face. "oh, jay," you moaned, body running hot at his actions.

jason's hands left your hips momentarily, reaching closer to your thighs-- only to hike them along his shoulders and back, inadvertently driving your cunt closer to his face. at the newfound angle, you both moaned in sync.

"god--" your breath hitched, "deeper, jason, c'mon,"

jason wasted no time in listening to your orders-- sticking his tongue past your sopping hole to tongue-fuck you with vigor. in and out and in again, his tongue practically curled and massaged your insides.

the man only pulled back for a second, to spit onto your aching cunt, before diving right back in. his tongue flattened against your folds again, his hands finding your hips. "this feel good, baby?" he asked.

you nodded, sweat beading at your temple.

jason's movements ceased, though his tongue remained connected to your pussy. "then fuck yourself on my tongue-- make yourself feel good, sweetheart,"

jason did not have to tell you twice-- your hips immediately began rocking along the man's appendage, the friction causing your lower stomach to coil with pressure.

you were, shamefully, lifting yourself off of the counter to grind against the vigilante's face now-- your own contorted and washed over by a myriad of pleasure and ecstasy. "jay," you moaned loudly, "please, i wanna cum,"

at your confession, jason's movements restarted again-- this time, with a renewed sense of purpose. he moaned into your cunt, vibrations only adding to the ever-growing sensation of your orgasm within your lower belly. "yeah?" he asked, voice muffled by your pussy.

"m-mhm!"

two of jason's fingers poked at your hole as his mouth re-attached to your clit-- and sunk in with ease. "shit, baby," he peeled himself off of you to mumble, "so fuckin' soaked for me-- this pussy's squeezing my fingers so good,"

you nodded, before your head lolled backwards as jason began sucking on your clit, his fingers curling and uncurling against your g-spot rapidly. there was no rhythm, no pattern; just jason chasing your orgasm as if it was his own.

the sound of your pussy squelching around his fingers was nothing short of obscene; your bathroom mirror was fogging up, and you hips tilted to meet the thrusts of jason's hand within you. greenish-grey irises blinked upwards to meet your own, and the intimacy your eye-contact sent you over the edge.

"jason," you gasped, jaw going slack, "m'cumming,"

jason smiled against your pussy, tongue and fingers working in tandem to keep you riding the high of your orgasm-- even as it dripped down his wrist and his chin.

your cunt pulsed and throbbed and squeezed like there was no tomorrow-- hips stuttering and shaking along jason's face, legs wrapping around his head in an effort to shut.

"i know," he praised, voice warm and low, dripping with arousal, as he continued to drag out your orgasm. "bet you feel so good, this wet fuckin' pussy painting my face," he whispered, delivering a final lick to your cunt, looong and slow, before he pulled away. "don't you, pretty?"

you nodded, chest heaving greatly. the aftershocks of your orgasm rocked your core, sending shivers from the tip of your spine all the way to your toes.

you couldn't remember the last time a man made you cum that hard. you can't remember the last time you made yourself cum that hard.

"well," he said, standing, "imagine how good my dick will feel."

you whined softly, bracing your hands along jason's chest when he finally stood in-between your legs. leaning forward, you connected your lips. the taste of your cunt on his lips was intoxicating.

lazily, jason kissed you back-- your tongues hadn't hesitated to be stuck down each other's throats, and your nails dragged down jason's torso. only when your fingertips met the bandages you had put on his wound earlier, did you stop.

"oh," you said lightly, "maybe we shouldn't; i don't want you to get even more hurt--"

jason cut you off with a roll of his eyes, his lips dancing across the bottom half of your face with ease. "baby," he mumbled between kisses, "a little cut won't stop me from makin' you feel good,"

"a little cut?" you laughed, slightly in shock. "you were stabbed."

"and? i'm a grown man, i can handle it."

his palms found your waist again, picking you up only to lower you onto the floor. when your feet met the tiles of the bathroom, he spun you around so you were facing the mirror. "don't come crawlin' back to me when your stitches are fucked, then, 'cause i won't redo them."

jason chuckled against your neck, his breath warm as you heard his belt buckle come un-done. "liar," he whispered. something flipped within your core. "we both know that if it'll end with me paying this," he reached a hand forward and around, to give your bare cunt several taps, "pretty pussy any attention, you won't say shit."

...

you hated that he was right. especially now knowing he could give you an orgasm that made you see god.

you rolled your eyes, your silence saying everything you couldn't. jason laughed again, before reaching into his boxers to pull out his throbbing cock.

"you made me so hard," he whispered along the shell of your ear. "see?"

his question, though, was not meant for you to literally see-- no, at his words, jason pressed his aching dick to your cunt, grinding his length along your folds at an infuriatingly slow pace.

you moaned. couldn't help it-- not at the sensation of every vein, every ridge, every bump along his cock skating over your pussy. "yeah," you nodded, bottom lip getting caught in between your teeth, "put it in me."

jason stilled for a moment at your words, before one of his hands flew from you hip and to the back of your neck-- pressing you firmly onto the counter-top. your torso was flush to the granite, and jason successfully had you bent. "i thought we established that you could beg better than that," his voice was low. serious. "with some manners."

shame flooded your system-- but the sensation of your pussy practically drooling onto jason's cock was far too enamouring for you to ignore. "please," you exhaled, "please, baby, put your cock in me-- i need it so badly,"

"that's better," jason hummed, beginning to grind his tip against your clit again. the sound of a low moan from the back of his throat fell onto your ears, and instinctively, you arched backwards and into the man.

"jay, please," you sobbed. jason's hand had travelled from the back of your neck to your head-- keeping you pressed securely to the counter-top. your irises met his, and your entire body tingled with need.

"please what? say what you want." he mocked, hips slowing as he continued to grind against your weeping pussy.

"please--!" you were growing desperate beyond coherent words. "please, jason, please just fuck me."

in the mirror, you watched jason grin. his cheeks dimpled and your stomach flipped. "atta girl," he lined himself up with your hole with ease, before slooowly pressing into you.

you both moaned as his cock began to fill you out-- inch by inch, the further he moved within your pussy, the more you both became drunk on one another.

your jaw had gone slack against the counter, cheek pressed to the cool surface by jason's sturdy hand as he finally bottomed out inside of you. his balls gently rocked against your clit, and he held you there-- unmoving, save for the occasional twitch of his cock.

"holy shit," he breathed out your name heavily, voice coated in a seductive euphoria. "you feel-- god, you feel like you were made for me,"

you whined at his words, arousal dripping onto his length crudely as the visceral need for jason to move enveloped you. "mhm," you hummed dumbly, "made for this fat fuckin' cock,"

the man moaned at your words, hips finally beginning to pace against your ass. it was steady, after a few thrusts-- his cock stretching your pussy out.

"yes," you cried, hands bracing the edge of the counter-top as his tip began to abuse your g-spot. "feels s'good, jay,"

"oh, i know, princess," he gasped, each plap, plap, plap! of his hips meeting your ass becoming more obscene than the last. your cunt pulsed as it surrounded his cock, sucking him in-- holding him, keeping you both impossibly close.

jason grunted and moaned loudly, in tandem with your cries of pleasure, and it spurred you on. without thinking, you began to back yourself up onto him-- meeting each thrust with a bounce of your ass on his cock.

to your surprise, jason's hand snaked its way between your throat and the counter, choking gently, before he yanked you upwards. his thrusts didn't stop-- in fact, his pace only quickened, cock moving in and out and in again at a brutal pace. "no," he said sharply, forcing your jaw upwards to make you look at him through the mirror's reflection, "let me do it. let me fuck you how i want, how you deserve to be fucked,"

your pussy was dripping-- soaking jason's cock as you observed in the mirror (through clouded, tear filled eyes), as he fucked you.

"see?" he questioned, grasp tightening ever so slightly around your throat, "such a good girl when you let me fuck you like this-- when you watch yourself take this cock,"

"yes, jay," you moaned, hands still gripping the counter. every single syllable that fell from his mouth went straight to your pussy, which fluttered whorishly around jason's dick as if it was the only thing it needed.

you had said other things, too; you babbled mindlessly as his dick drove in and out of you, punishing your aching and needy pussy. your feet kicked upwards as jason pushed your hips along the counter's edge, the weight of his hips slamming into your ass keeping you folded.

"haah," he moaned, grinding his cock impossibly deeper into your cunt. "shoulda done this sooner," he said, "shoulda stuffed this pretty little pussy so deep such a long time ago, i've been needin' it so bad,"

his words went straight to your cunt, and it squelched loudly around him in response. wordlessly, you were begging for more.

"oh, what's that? you been-- shiit-- needing it too, sweet girl?" he questioned, cock pistoning your pussy passionately.

"yes--! yes, yesyesyes, i needed this so badly," you agree, far too cock-drunk on the man to say anything else. your toes and fingertips tingled, pleasure bleeding into every sensation you had.

"now you've got it, s'okay, i'll take-- fuck-- i'll take care of you," jason tried his best, really, to keep his sentences together-- but the way your cunt was strangling his cock was starting to get the better of him.

his thrusts grew erratic-- out of time, sloppy-- as he bit down onto your shoulder, eyes still on yours in the mirror.

"i'm goin' to cum," you announced, his teeth sinking into your body only spurring on your second orgasm of the night. "i-- oh god, jason, i'm not going to be able to hold it--"

"then don't," he breathed out, his hand leaving your throat to travel to your clothed chest. despite the fabric of your shirt, jason still groped and molded your tits; he moaned into your neck, giving your right breast a hearty squeeze. "cum all over this fuckin' cock, baby,"

at his words, you obeyed. the corners of your vision went spotty as you head tilted backwards onto jason's shoulder-- your orgasm causing your entire body to twitch. your legs vibrated, and cunt spasmed along jason's dick-- to which you felt him throb inside of you in response.

"c-can i fill you up? inside?" he asked suddenly, thrusts impossibly random as he chased his own orgasm.

you were nodding your head before you could even think about it-- your pussy still beating intensely at his actions, clit pulsating and dripping with need. "holy shit-- yeah, jay, cum inside me,"

jason groaned again-- teeth biting into your shoulder and remaining there as he started to cum. hot, thick ropes, spurting into your pussy-- being stuffed deeper and deeper and deeper with every half-thrust that followed. the moans of the man seeped into your skin, jason drooling all over your body as he continued to pump himself deep inside of your womb.

the sensation of his cock inside you quickly became overstimulating-- but there wasn't anything you could do except moan as jason continued to fuck into you. "jay--!"

"fuck-- i know, sweet girl, i just-- haah-- just let me milk every last drop," and you were certain, as well, that jason was becoming overwhelmed in your pussy as well; hisses followed his moans now, and only when hot tears streamed down your cheeks, did jason pull out. you fell forward and onto the counter-top, the cold surface a harsh contrast to the heat that radiated off of both of your bodies in waves.

jason's body bent in half as he copied you-- except his chest was flush to your back. sweat dripped from his hairline and temple, and you felt a sloppy, warm kiss being pressed to the nape of your neck.

"mm," he hummed, eyes fluttering shut.

you mirrored him, the fluorescent lighting of your bookstore’s bathroom suddenly far too harsh against everything you were feeling. “jason?”

he grunted in response, the sound low and amused at the croak in your voice.

“if you liked me, you could’ve just said so,” you muttered. “no need to get yourself stabbed over it.”

his laughter vibrated softly against your skin. “you think I got stabbed because I couldn’t figure out how to confess to you?”

“the last book you bought from me was Romeo and Juliet,” you reminded him.

that earned a louder laugh, though he offered no defense. the sound was warm, almost boyish — and for a moment, it made you forget the blood still drying on his ribs; made you forget that his cum was seeping out of you.

“hey,” he murmured after a pause, “at least I didn’t die for it. been there, done that. wouldn’t recommend.”

you frowned, half-confused, half-concerned — but before you could ask, he leaned in, the smell of gunpowder and cologne and something entirely him pressing close.

“Thus with a kiss…” he whispered against your forehead, his lips ghosting over your skin, “I will not die again.”

for a heartbeat, neither of you moved. the line hung between you — tragic words rewritten into something fragile and defiant, something that belonged to him. to you.

and as his breath lingered against your temple, you realized there was far more to jason todd than the man who haunted your bookstore shelves. there was a story still being written — and somehow, you’d just found yourself in the middle of it.

PLUVOiA 25’ ® - masterlist

loren's thots: heyyy... how yall doing......... lmfao sorry this took a minute the universe threw an evil evil situationship at me w a man whos 6 ( S I X !!) whole yrs older than me.... god i love older men...... anyways its been consuming my mind and uh anything to do w sex has made me terribly emotional as a result but I POWERED THRU for yall i hope u like it.. n ya ik it wasnt the next one planned for kinktober no i didnt skip the eve and kyle pieces i js wanted to write for someone that i think yall would eat upppp so.. i love u all and omg freakin talk to me? omg cobwebs in my inbox damnnnn....

loren's tags--!

@soggywhore  @inlovewithpsychos @battlebaesworld @amoreselli @68saturnism @stellacherryfairy @kryptonkiss @sixtoads @luckysalbum @unseenzombieprototype @thekentfiles @unclearblur @blv3rd @cassiecasluciluce @k4sey1st @needy-self-ship-jjba @solarsunset222 @clarknsun @crushcunt @navyhaze @moviecritc @justjjkin

You must have been waiting for him to get home and fallen asleep as the hours pressed on. His lips leave featherlight kisses against the skin of your thighs, each kiss an unspoken apology. Eyes trained on your sleeping face, he leans in.

"So needy for me even in your sleep."

His breath hot against you, words whispered in the quiet room. You don't react to him, still snug off in dream land. The soft tip of his nose brushes against the damp spot, giving him a tease of your scent before he's burrowing himself deeper.

Nose pressed against your mound, his lips press a harsh kiss against the small patch of your arousal. A deep moan leaves him as his tongue swipes once, twice against the fabric, dampening it even more with his spit.

He swirls his tongue around until your panties are soaked, the drenched material practically glued to your folds. Pulling back slightly Xavier brings a hand up, fingers twisting into your panties and pulling them ever so slightly so they're tighter against your cunt.

A soft whine leaves you this time, hips wiggling as the sticky material presses against you. A sleazy smirk curls on his lips, eyes watching as your own lips purse into a small pout. "Don't whine baby," he coos against the warming skin of your leg, "you know what it does to me."

His cock twitches, pre dribbling out of his flushed tip and onto the sheets below. His fingers hook under your panties, slowly pulling them down, eyes blown in hunger as a thick line of your arousal clings onto the fabric.

He doesn't even realize he's moving before the sweet taste of your slick has hit his tongue. His tongue had broken the contact of your arousal, some catching onto his chin. Rolling his tongue around his mouth, he removed your panties, gently maneuvering your legs how he needed before putting them back.

He took a second to admire you, the moonlight filtering in the dark room, illuminating your glistening puffy folds. Your cunt was drooling for him, clit twitching softly like it was shy under his attention.

"So perfect for me.." Xavier leaned back in, his senses narrowing down to just you, you, you. Your heady scent flooding into his nose now that you were bare. Wasting no time, he placed fat kisses against your weeping cunt, lewd smacks filling the room.

You shifted, head turning into the pillow and your eyebrows furrowed when he licked a fat stripe up your pussy. Arousal dancing around his tastebuds, Xavier wiggled his tongue as deep as he could go, chin pressing against your slick clit.

He continuously hummed into your pussy, his only thoughts being you, as he started tongue fucking you. Soft moans left your lips, hand tightening around your pillow for comfort as he licked up everything your cunt offered him.

The bed creaked beneath you, moving from Xavier's hips humping against it. The soft sheets were stained like your panties, a small puddle where he was rutting against squelching softly as his cock bullied the sheets like it was your cunt.

He was lost in pleasure, the heavy yet sweet flavor of your cunt sliding down his throat. His chin was soaked, skin smacking against skin as he worked himself against your twitchy clit. His head shook side to side, smearing your arousal around, not caring where it stained. It could drip onto the bed and he'd lick it clean.

Your walls fluttered around his tongue when your hips slowly started moving, a small gyrating twist of your hips. Xavier pulled out with a loud smack, hand rubbing your back when you whined from the loss. His stomach clenched at the sound and he licked at the arousal that spread onto the apex of your thighs.

You wiggled restlessly, chasing that slow fading pleasure. "No, no baby. Stay spread for me okay?" Xavier's hand came to the back of your propped leg, keeping it held up after it tried to close.

His fingers gently dug into the plush skin, lips wrapping tight around your clit and suuucking. His other hand came to your ass, gripping the fat and lifting, spreading you wide for him. Sweat beaded against his forehead, back muscles clenching as his thrusts grew harder, chasing his own pleasure.

Jaw hanging open, Xavier made out with your cunt— messy and so so wet as his tongue and lips smacked against the puffy folds. Your hips kicked back up, grinding against him like you usually do, leaving behind wet suctions of his mouth.

His grip turned bruising, blunt nails digging into your skin as he doubled his efforts, working in time with his constant strokes. His cock almost felt raw from the force of his thrusts, pale skin a flushed red. He felt his cock throb with each thrust, twitching aggressively at every little moan that escaped your lips.

"X-Xavi?.."

Blue eyes snapped to yours, pupils blown wide and a deep flush peeking from beneath your thighs. Blinking away the sleepiness from your eyes, your hand shot down to his hair, fingers curling tight in the strands as a loud moan left your lips.

Your cunt fluttered around nothing, clit twitching between his lips as you watched your boyfriend eat you out like a man starved. "F-fuck—" your back arched, front pushing out and your other hand came up, clumsily pulling your shirt up to expose your chest. Your fingers tweaked your hardened buds, the added stimulation making your tummy clench and your mind fuzzy.

"Just like that…" your hips pushed back, hand shoving Xavier's face deeper into your cunt and holding him there. Moving on autopilot, you fucked his face, the loud schlick sclick of your drooly cunt against his eager tongue.

It wasn't often Xavier let you use him like this without some kind of reprimand but from how frantic his eating and thrusts have gotten you can only assume how long he's been buried in your folds.

Xavier hiked your leg up higher, moans resonating deep against your sensitive skin. "G'nna make me cum—shit, Xavi." his fingers tapped against your ass, helping you push back against him as his tongue stiffened, curling juuust right.

Goosebumps littered your skin, nipples hardening even more beneath your fingers. Your grinding grew sloppy, thighs quivering as your mouth hung open, moans slipping from your lips.

"Ohh! Cumming Xavi, cumming—yesyesyes!"

One, two, three more harsh sucks to your overly sensitive clit and you're reaching that peak, a loud groan leaving Xavier as you cream allll over his tongue. Stars burst behind your eyes, hips twitching in short bursts as you chant his name, riding out your high.

The heady flavor of your cum sends Xavier over the edge, hips stuttering and balls tightening as heavy spurts of cum shoots out of his cock. His cock throbs and throbs, pearly white globes of cum dribbling onto the bed and leaving a white trail down his veiny cock.

His head moves lazily, tongue scooping up all of your cream before he pulls away with a lewd pop! his breath coming out in short pants. You're boneless as he moves you around, turning you onto your back, his face coming into your line of vision.

The lower half of his face was glistening, the evidence of your arousal obvious on his pale skin. You pulled him down for a kiss, tongue swiping into his mouth as he settled between your legs, hitching them around his hips. His hand came to your cheek, caressing the skin as he smiled softly at you.

Enjin was a simple man with simple needs. 

A couple cigarettes. The rush of tearing a trash beast apart piece by piece. The relief of a joint right after. Hitting up his favorite local spots at the end of a workday, surrounding himself with gorgeous women who couldn’t deny the fact that he, too, was quite the specimen himself. 

Simple. 

Once you joined the Cleaners, he’d been ecstatic to finally share the burden that was being in your twenties while babysitting a bunch of brain-wrecked teenagers. 

For the first time in a while, he had room to breathe—time to indulge, and not just in stolen moments.

He could prep joints at night for the next day. Take long baths. Hook up with strangers. Stumble back home high out of his mind at bonkers hours in the morning.

He wasn’t above sharing his pleasures, either. He’d invite his adult coworkers to go out with him from time to time.

Gris usually took him up on it if his day had been particularly rough—especially after some heavy trash-beast ass-kicking.

Semiu, on the other hand, decided on a whim whether she felt like tagging along or not.

As for Zanka, Enjin was already looking forward to the day he’d be old enough to become a potential drinking buddy. Fingers crossed.

He’d even invited you along a couple of times as well, only to learn—pretty quickly—that you were more of a domestic soul. You liked taking care of yourself in your room during your spare time, doing chores, sticking to your own quiet routines and little rituals.

You spent a good chunk of your time tending to your vital instrument. Other than that, you just… existed among the residents. Easy. Steady. Reliable.

He exhaled slowly, letting the tensions of the day roll off him as his thoughts drifted towards the night ahead, an unlit cigarette sitting between his lips. The places he might go, the people he might see, the things he might do. 

His steps echoed through the atmosphere of low humming halls. It was easy to slip into autopilot, leave monotone routine behind—as monotone as his job could get, really— and trade it all for the simple pleasures waiting outside. 

Enjin had already clocked out in his head. Cigarette, street air, somewhere loud—he was halfway there when August’s voice tore through the hall.

“IT’S DONE! HAHA! I DID IT!”

Enjin stopped. Clicked his tongue. Figures. Nothing out of the ordinary. He put his foot in front of the other. 

Then August yelled your name.

The lighter stayed in Enjin’s pocket. Instinctively, he turned back around to watch the scene unfold in front of him. 

You appeared like you always did — clothes draping over you like they were just a size too big, hair half-tamed (much like you).

Mildly tired, mildly irritated, yet entirely unbothered by the chaos that was August himself. He leaned back against the doorframe behind him, eyes following the way you yanked the fabric out of August’s hands. 

“On my fucking life,” you groaned. “Why’re you yelling? M’right here.” 

“Wow, you’re so fun and energized,” Enjin chimed in, as sarcastic as he was relaxed.

You shot him a look — flat, unimpressed. He grinned anyway, like he’d just won a prize, or something. “You asked for a new uniform?” 

“Not really,”—you held the clothes up to get an impression—“he just said he’d make me one ‘cause he felt inspired, so I let him.”

He couldn’t help but notice the fabric of the new uniform— or rather, the lack thereof.

Enjin then realized, distantly, that he’d never really thought about what you looked like under your layers of much too oversized clothes.

The sweaters swallowed you whole, the pants hung low and loose, and somewhere along the line his brain had filed you away as safe. Familiar.

Not something to think about.

“August,” you said, turning the scraps of fabric over in your hands, brows knitting together, “are you sure this is for me? This is so not what I’d usually wear.”

Enjin almost agreed out loud. Almost. It didn’t match you—not the way he knew you, anyway.

You were all soft edges and practical comfort, huge sleeves and borrowed pants, a presence that blended into the space instead of demanding it. This thing looked like it wanted to be noticed. 

He should’ve written it off right there, should’ve sided with you and moved on. Instead, he found himself staring a second longer than necessary, curiosity gnawing at him in a way that felt unfamiliar. He wanted—unexpectedly—to see it on you.

Wanted to know what August had seen that he hadn’t. The thought settled in his chest, stubborn, yet not entirely unwelcome.

Enjin was a simple man.

“Are you doubting the gear genius?” He teasingly tilted his head.

“Yeah? How dare you?” August scoffed.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I’m not doubting anyone. I’m just saying—this doesn’t really look like something I’d wear.”

August waved you off, already vibrating with confidence. “Just try it on.”

You hesitated for half a second before nodding. “Give me a minute.”

And just like you’d seemed to appear out of nowhere, you were gone again the very next second. The door to your room clicked shut.

Enjin didn’t realize he’d been watching until August lightly elbowed his side, muttering to himself about unique stitching, unmatched genius, and a true artistic vision needing proper time to take shape.

Adjusting his weight against the doorframe, Enjin finally lit the cigarette that had been resting between his lips.

Huh, weird.

He’d seen people change before—hell, had undressed people before, had just been about to go out and find someone to undress again. None of this should have registered.

And yet.

Seconds ticked by, and his mind counted them anyway.

He took a drag. Exhaled. Then did it again. The burned-down bud at the tip of the cigarette fell to the floor in what felt like slow motion.

He shifted again, cigarette now between his fingers, trying to convince himself that now could be the time follow through with his original plan: go out, fool around, return at some ridiculous hour. No obligations. No reason to stick around. 

So why weren’t his feet moving? 

His gaze drifted toward your closed door. For the briefest moment, he imagined what it might look like. Immediately, he shook his head. He really never thought of you this way. 

And yet.

The thought lingered. The thought of you—any way other than your usual comforting, gentle, easy self—refused to disappear. He heard the soft shuffle and toss of clothing behind the door until all that remained was quiet nothing.

He couldn’t lie to himself. He was curious. Whatever pleasures waited outside weren’t going anywhere, and he was entertained enough right where he was—so why force it?

There was no rush. No harm in sticking around a little longer. If nothing else, it gave him an excuse to annoy you about it later.

Another drag. Another exhale. The cigarette was now less than half its original length. A few more inches fell to the floor, slow, unimportant, meaningless.

The lock of your door clicked. And it mattered so much, for some reason.

Enjin’s head tilted, cigarette now forgotten between his lips. He imagined your last couple motions behind that door— a careful tug at a new hem, flatting a creased surface of the fabric, adjusting the fit and drape of certain places. Your hands moving along yourself in a familiar fashion. 

Your hands moving along yourself.

And that was new. In spite of all the trouble he usually got up to, he’d never thought of you as a woman before. Not once. 

Then, you stepped out. 

The uniform fit differently than he expected. On its own, it wasn’t flashy, or anything, but it conformed to your shape in a way that made it undeniable. Attention-seeking. And you…

You made it look effortless.

The seams traced your lines perfectly, moving and folding with you in one fluid motion as if the fabric had been waiting for you.

The uniform was stripped down, tight, and sharp. The skirt hugged your hips, short enough to catch the eye without feeling ridiculous. It was tasteful. 

The top clung to your torso in a way that left neither room for more fabric, nor for imagination. 

Over it, the cropped jacket—Cleaners’ emblem bold across the back—fit snugly, following your every movement without losing its structure. 

And the boots—chunky, scuffed, ready for anything—grounded you in a way that made the whole thing feel both dangerous and effortless.

And what shouldn’t have mattered suddenly mattered so much. Because, fuck… you were hot.

Every little shift you made—a tilt of your head, a small tug at the hem, the way the fabric moved with you—kept catching his attention. He bit the inside of his cheek. Ain’t no way you’d been burying all that under those layers. 

And yet.

Something in him knew better. Your figure fit the style of the uniform perfectly. Natural. Balanced. Built in all the right places. That shouldn’t matter. And still, it did. His pulse ticked a little faster, and he kind of hated that he noticed.

What he was most shocked to have to face was the fact that you were pretty much exactly what he imagined whenever he thought of an ideal type. 

His lungs tightened. Not from desire—at least, not fully. Fascination, awareness, intrigue—all tangled together. The version of you he’d filed away as “safe, familiar” no longer fit. Something was… different.

You glanced at him, eyebrows raised, waiting for judgment. Approval. Anything.

He exhaled slowly, smoke he’d forgotten in his lungs curling upwards past his curious eyes. “Fits,” he said, voice low and casual, as though he was trying to convince himself he hadn’t been holding his breath for the past couple seconds.

You blinked, then tilted your head to look down at yourself. “Yeah… I guess so.”

Neither of you moved. The hall felt quieter, smaller, like any sudden movement could cause him to bump into you. August had gone silent as well, half inspecting his work, half sensing the shift in the air without caring to pinpoint the energy. 

Whether or not you had realized it, that was up for debate.

Enjin took another long drag. Exhaled. Hoping the smoke would create a barrier between him and your form.

It was then, that he realized it wasn’t just the uniform that mattered. It was the subtle shift in you, the way you carried yourself differently, the unfamiliar side of you quietly asserting itself—and him noticing, no pretending otherwise. 

Your back straightened, chest lifted ever so slightly—oh, fuck—and the natural sway of your hips whenever you shifted your weight had him chasing after his own breath. 

“Honestly,” you spoke, smoothing the fabric of your skirt over your hips, “I thought this would be uncomfortable, but… it’s really not. I do actually like it.” 

“TOLD YA! I’M A GENIUS!” August screamed, dancing with wild pride. 

Enjin couldn’t help but simply stare. An involuntary smirk grazed his features. “Yeah… you are a genius.” 

He was a simple man with simple needs.

─────────୨ৎ─────────

By the time the last trash beast went down, you’d forgotten what it felt like to wear anything else.

Given the nature of your fighting, bruises were inevitable—something you hadn’t even considered when you first received the outfit. Now, black-and-blue marks bloomed along your legs, stretching from mid-thigh all the way down.

It was a sight quite familiar to you, the difference being that—with your new uniform— it was visible to everyone around you as well.

You were going to have to do something about that. 

The adrenaline hadn’t quite worn off yet. Your limbs buzzed from all the movement, body feeling hot and fuzzy. You shifted your weight from one leg to the other in pursuit of some sort of relief for each limb. 

And in spite of all your movements, the pieces of clothing hadn’t shifted in any unwanted way. No hems to adjust, no creases to smooth over. Nothing. The uniform didn’t just cling to your body—it practically felt molded to your physique.

You hadn’t had to think about it once during the fight, which, honestly, was the highest compliment you could pay to the resident “gear genius” who had so carefully tailored it to your needs.

You glanced over at Enjin, who seemed to be in a similar state as you. Chest heaving, skin dusted with the thinnest layer of sweat and grime.

He leaned back slightly, the ever-present teasing grin tugging at his lips—a feature that somehow only grew more pronounced after a good fight at the edge of the No Man’s Lands.

He put most of his weight onto his dear umbrella as his gaze flickered towards your form. You caught it flicking down for a split second—a questioning twitch in his lip, a curious squint of his eye—and then back up. 

“Don’t start,” you said, already anticipating a comment about the state of your legs.

“Wasn’t gonna,” he replied easily, his hands up in defense and then catching Umbreaker just in time before it fell over. Then, after a beat, “You took quite a hit back there, though.”

“Well,” you looked down to properly inspect the spots this time. The bruises blossomed mostly in the areas around and on your knees, though your shins weren’t exempt of the hues of color. Frankly, it looked like it usually did. “Comes with the job.” 

“Huh,” his gaze flickered down again, lingering long enough for you to take note of it. “You always bruise like that?” 

“Pretty much?” You responded, putting one leg behind the other, as if it was going to do anything to hide it. “Legs usually take the worst of it.” 

“Figures.” he responded, lifting a joint to his lips—his habitual celebration joint, as you’ve come to learn about him.

His attention to your legs lingered just a second longer than you’d expected it to, before focusing on lighting the end of the blunt with his lighter. 

“You know,” he teased as the fire finally caught, then dropping his lighter back in his pocket, “the amount you bruise in a day feels like the amount I take in like, what, two weeks?” 

“Wow, you’re so cool for that,” you shot back—unimpressed, sarcastic. “Is this your way of telling me to be more careful?” 

“Nah,” he smirked, taking a drag of his joint and exhaling the smoke, a relaxed groan escaping along with it. “You handle yourself just fine.” 

That earned him a look. “High praise.” 

“Don’t get used to it.” he retorted, a challenging expression adorning his sharp features.

“Aw, why not?” You finally took a moment to stretch. 

Hands pressed together, you reached overhead, trying to ease the tension built up in your back during the fight. Even as you moved, you couldn’t help but notice the hem of your top riding up just slightly—enough to follow your motion comfortably, never restrictive, never bothersome.

It was honestly impressive. 

When your arms dropped back to your sides, you caught the faintest flicker of movement out of the corner of your eye—and for a moment, it felt like Enjin’s gaze was still following you. Just for a heartbeat, though.

“What’s up with you today?”

“Huh?” A cloud of smoke tore through his lips. “What do you mean?”

“You’re, like, looking at me all the time,” you said, resting a hand on your hip. “What’s up with that?”

“I’m not.” He scoffed, taking another drag, huffing little smoke circles and watching them disappear into the air.

You rolled your eyes. “You are, though.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You totally are.”

“Yeah,” he admitted, shooting you a hopelessly charming smile, eyes shamelessly flicking down and back up your figure. “Maybe a bit.”

Unfortunately for you, his charms didn’t leave you entirely unaffected.

You couldn’t help it. Anyone with working eyes knew exactly that Enjin was the unfortunate epitome of attraction. 

The sharp line of his jaw catching the light as he tilted his head, the way smoke curled lazily from his lips, forming all sorts of organic shapes before vanishing into the air. 

The collar of his shirt revealing the ink nestled underneath his skin, curving alongside his neck, giving him this edge that somehow fit that permanent teasing expression he always wore.

You shook your head slightly, trying to tell yourself it didn’t mean anything. But your pulse had its own opinion, quickening with the small, easy awareness of him in front of you. 

But no. This guy was more than likely carrying a choker filled to the brim with booty calls. There was no reason for him to be paying you that kind of attention, especially since he usually didn’t.

Something you’d always been painfully aware of, to your dismay.

“Whatever,” you muttered, more to yourself than him. “Can you drive?” 

“Why?” he grinned. “‘Cause your legs are busted?” 

“You’re so funny today,” you mustered the most obnoxious fake-laugh you were capable of. “No, genius. I’m asking, because you’re high.”

“That would certainly be a valid concern,”—he took another taunting drag—“if you weren’t talking to me right now.” 

“Silly me,”you said, not-so-subtle sarcasm yet to unlace from your voice. “No, but really.” 

You walked past him toward the off-roader, unable to hide the little bounce in your step—half from the lingering adrenaline still coursing through your veins, half from the excitement you felt at the prospect of returning back to your base—home.

Heavy steps followed you until you both slid into the vehicle, him in the driver’s seat.

“I’ve done wilder things stoned,” he scoffed, playfully rolling his eyes as he inserted the key into the ignition.

“Like what?” You asked, getting comfortable in your seat. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“You’re so insufferable sometimes.” you sighed, shooting him a displeased look. “Just focus on the road.”

He smiled, eyes meeting yours as if to admit guilt. “No promises.” 

His fingers moved quickly over the keys, firing up the engine before shifting gears and getting the car rolling.

“Buckle up, princess,” he said. “Just ‘cause your legs are bruised doesn’t mean I’ll be slowing down any time soon.” 

The little nickname definitely didn’t go unnoticed by you—as well as the double innuendo, which wasn’t out of the ordinary for him—though you felt too something to really comment on it.

“Don’t you worry about my legs,” you shot back, trying for a casual tone. “Not like I’m made of sugar or something.”

He smirked to himself, taking a last long drag of the joint before flicking it out the window. “Good to know.”

You caught him muttering something under his breath—more to himself than to you—but decided to let it slide. Your pulse still hadn’t quite settled—whether that was from the fight or due to certain body-modded men within your vicinity was something you chose not to worry about— and honestly, you didn’t really feel like picking fights, anyway. 

The motor rumbled beneath you as the off-roader stumbled over the uneven ground of the No Man’s Land, gradually leaving the chaos behind. The road began to flatten with each passing mile, though the ride already felt surprisingly smooth—especially considering it was Enjin behind the wheel right now.

You kept your hands folded in your lap. Your gaze kept wandering between the trash-ridden landscape — a rather unpleasant sight — and, of course, him — an admittedly rather pleasant side. 

Despite every warning you’d given yourself, despite every attempt to keep your guard up, he slipped past it effortlessly. He didn’t need your consent to get under your skin—and you couldn’t really help letting him, either. He was just good at getting people’s guard down—at least among the Cleaners.

Or maybe it was just you. 

Your gaze drifted back to him, more often than you cared to admit. His side profile looked sharper and even more defined against the warm rays of a setting sun kissing his dirt-ridden skin. 

It was honestly a bit annoying how attractive he was. 

You mentally traced the patterns of the tattoos disappearing beneath the nick of his shirt, wondering about the way they might continue. Your focus drifted towards the flex of his strong hands on the wheel, covered in similar shapes—how did they curl under his sleeves?

You shifted in your seat, throwing one leg over the other, and felt the faint sting of bruises along the length of your legs. Nothing severe, but enough to remind you that your fight hadn’t been gentle. 

You flexed them subtly under the skirt of your uniform, partly to stretch, partly out of curiosity, playing a quiet game of “how long before it hurts too much”. Of course, it never got to that point. It’s just some light bruising. 

He glanced at you then, out of the corner of his eye, and his smirk widened just slightly, like he knew about the silly game you were playing in your head to entertain yourself. A small quirk of his eyebrow, a tilt of the head—it was enough to make your chest tighten, though you pretended (miserably) to focus on your legs instead.

“So,” he said, voice casual but teasing, “you planning on sitting there looking broody all the way back, or are we gonna talk?”

You let out a soft breath, shoulders sinking into the seat. “I’ll be honest… I’m kind of tired.”

“I was wondering when you’d say that.” His tone softened, the teasing thinning out. “You can sleep, if you wanna. I’ll wake your ass at HQ.”

“Mm,” you hummed, eyelids already heavier than you’d realized. “Sounds good.”

“I’ll wake you up good,” he added lightly. “Get Delmon to hose you down.”

One eye cracked open. “Okay. I’m not sleeping.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “I’m kidding.” A pause. Then, softer, more genuine: “I’ll wake you up real gentle. Promise. Get some rest.”

The hum of the engine filled the space between you. The road stretched ahead, steady and uneventful.

You shifted slightly, adjusting against the seat, legs stretching out a little more carefully this time. Your head tipped back. The exhaustion wasn’t dramatic — just the slow kind that settled into your bones after a long day.

You felt it before you saw it — his hand adjusting the climate dial so the air wouldn’t blow directly at you. The smallest thing. Almost nothing.

But not nothing.

Your eyes fluttered closed.

The last thing you registered was the faint sound of him muttering under his breath — something about how easily you wear yourself out — and the way the vehicle seemed to move just a little smoother than before.

You were asleep before you even realized it.

─────────୨ৎ─────────

The common area was louder than usual—music bleeding from a battered speaker, empty bottles clustering along the tables, the air thick with smoke and laughter. Someone had dragged out a deck of cards, another group arguing loudly over rules that changed every five minutes.

Enjin fit right into it.

He leaned back in his chair, one arm slung over the backrest, a drink balanced loosely in his hand as he laughed along with the others. Easy. Relaxed. This was familiar territory—post-mission chaos, shared exhaustion, celebration for still being alive. The kind of environment he absolutely thrived in.

His eyes roamed the room in a moment that was supposed to be all about appreciating his weird, little family.

And then, they stopped. 

You hadn’t made any sort of announcement. No dramatic pause, no random attempt at drawing attention. You just slipped into the room like you always did— quiet, familiar, reliable. 

His gaze flickered down before he could stop himself. 

The uniform sat on you as disgustingly well as it always did. Skirt hugged you too well, top accentuated your physique, jacket hung loose over your shoulders, sleeves slinging in the air.

He had just gotten somewhat used to seeing you this way. It was supposed to be safe. It should have been safe.

You chose trouble today. 

It wasn’t the uniform that threw him off.

It was what you added. 

Dark fabric hugged your legs beneath the skirt, reaching high enough to erase the bruises he knew were there. Practical. Sensible.

That, somehow, made it worse.

He knew why you were wearing them. A part of him basked in the fact that he was probably the only person here that knew why you were wearing them, that this was your attempt at hiding your bruises. And, somehow, knowing what it looked like underneath made it that much more… intimate? 

Not to mention the way that the plush of your legs perfectly spilled over the hem of the fabric, which was the best part about these types of socks, anyway.

But this was you. Cozy, unchanging, reliable you.

With a single addition to your work attire, you’d managed to take it from blurring the lines of professionalism to… well, overstepping them entirely. At least, in his eyes.

He couldn’t tell if he minded or not. Or he just couldn’t admit the truth to himself. 

The card game, the drink in his hand, the music running in the background—all of it faded as he took his sweet time observing you.

He eased back into the loveseat he was occupying, spreading his long legs like he owned the space, as if waiting for you was the most natural thing in the world.

You greeted a few people, checked on the kids at the children’s table, but never seemed to settle in one spot.

And so, he called your name before he could stop himself. 

Your head snapped toward him, eyes locking with his as you made your way to the poker table.

“Hey there,” you greeted, arms loosely crossed.

“Hi,” he replied, flashing that infuriating grin. “Sit down. We could use another player.” He shifted over, leaving just enough space for you to slide in, and you did—probably closer than you’d expected—after greeting everyone at the table.

His hand draped over the back of the two-seater, half-encasing your frame. His legs stretched, one brushing the side of your thigh, claiming the space with casual confidence, yet leaving enough for you.

“So… what are we playing?” you asked, voice light, like you were trying not to notice the proximity.

“It’s called Bluffing,” he said, eyes flicking toward you briefly. “Basically, the deck is evenly split among the four of us and we have to place cards in order of Ace to King facedown. The catch: You won’t always have the right card at the right turn.” 

“Ah,” you murmured as you took the drink from his hand and sipped, the weight of his gaze lingering on you. “So—you’re gonna have to bluff.”

“Right,” he replied, brow quirking just slightly. “You can place in multiples, though. If you gotta place an Ace and you have two on your hand, you can place both.”

“I see,” you replied, voice casual and airy. “How do you win? Or lose?”

“Oh, yeah—anyone can call a bluff at any point. If you’re right, the person who bluffed gets the entire pile on the table. If you’re wrong, you need to take the pile,” he responded. “Whoever has no cards left wins. You’ll get the hang of it.”

He leaned back slightly, letting his arm drape lazily over the loveseat, the movement deliberate, stretching closer to you without touching… yet. The proximity was ridiculous, and he knew it, and of course, so did you. 

He could feel the subtle brush of your leg against his, hear the faint shift as you adjusted your seat, the way your hand lingered on the drink he’d gotten himself.

His mind did a quick double-take, because… damn. You smelled good. Closer than he’d ever been, and now it was impossible to ignore.

Enjin reached for the full deck on the table, shuffling it, before he split the cards evenly between the four of you, movements smooth and practiced. Cards slid across the table in neat stacks.

“Alright,” he said, glancing around. “Who’s got the Ace of Hearts?”

Everyone checked their hand.

A beat.

“I do.”

His eyes flicked up immediately.

Of course you did.

“Then—you start.”

He leaned back, watching from the corner of his eye as you looked down at your cards. You took just a second too long. Your lips pressed together, like you were holding back a smile.

That was new.

You placed a card face-down.

“Ace of Hearts.”

He didn’t even hesitate.

“Bluff.”

The word came easy. Calm. Certain.

Bro snorted. “Already?”

You turned toward him slowly. “You don’t even know what I put down.”

He tilted his head, studying you openly now. “Don’t need to.”

It wasn’t about the card.

It was the way you sat a little straighter. The way your fingers lingered on the edge of the card a fraction too long. The almost imperceptible satisfaction in your eyes.

You were asking for it, really.

“Flip it,” Delmon urged.

You held Enjin’s gaze for half a second—a silent challenge—before turning the card over.

Six of Hearts.

Bro burst out laughing.

Enjin didn’t. He just smiled—slow and smug—because… well, there it was.

“I knew it,” he said quietly.

“You didn’t know anything.” You rolled your eyes.

He huffed a low laugh. Then, using the arm that wasn't draped casually behind you, he reached down and lightly poked a spot on your leg he knew was bruised. You yelped, just enough to make him grin wider.

Meanwhile, he couldn't help but savor the fact that he was the only one who knew what your legs looked like beneath the thigh highs. It was his way of telling you that—at least in split second—you belonged to him.

“I know you.”

You muttered something under your breath as you took your card back, clearly annoyed—but not really.

“Alright,” he said, settling back again. “Go on.”

You drew in a breath, adjusted your grip on your cards, and this time when you placed one down, your expression was steady. Almost neutral.

“Ace of Hearts—for real this time.”

He watched you carefully.

No lingering. No spark. No tiny flare of pride.

Just calm.

He held the silence for a second longer than necessary—just to make you feel it.

“Alright. Continue.”

Delmon cracked his knuckles. “Two.”

He placed two cards down in a neat stack. No hesitation. No theatrics.

Bro eyed him briefly, but didn’t bite.

“Three,” Bro said next, tossing one card onto the pile with a lazy flick of his wrist.

Stil, no one called anything.

Then it was Enjin’s turn.

He looked down at his hand. The next number was four. 

He just so happened to have two.

A small part of him considered holding one back for the next cycle.

He didn’t.

He slid both cards into the center. Calm. Clean.

“Two fours.”

He didn’t look at Delmon.

He didn’t look at Bro.

He looked at you.

Your fingers were still resting on your cards. But he saw it — that tiny shift in your posture. The way your shoulders squared. The way your eyes flicked to the pile and then back to him.

You were thinking. Good.

He leaned back slightly, arm still draped along the seat behind you.

“You gonna call it?” he asked lightly.

Delmon scoffed. “Here we go.”

Enjin ignored him.

His gaze stayed on you—not challenging. Just steady.

He wasn’t bluffing. But he almost hoped you thought he was.

For the most part, you upheld the eye-contact—eyes flicking towards the cards in his hand from time to time, as if questioning the legitimacy of them. 

“I wanted to,” you murmured, eyes flicking toward him, wary, “but… now that you want me to call it, I won’t.”

Enjin huffed a laugh.

“Fair enough. Your turn.”

You placed your three cards with a smile. “Five.”

Delmon’s brow furrowed as he eyed the pile.

“Bluff,” he finally muttered, leaning forward, elbows now resting on his knees.

You blinked, keeping your expression calm. “Oh?”

Enjin watched from his spot, leaning back slightly, arm still stretched behind you, smirk tugging at his lips. He didn’t need to see your cards to know what was coming.

“You sure about that?” Enjin asked lightly, just loud enough for the table to hear. His voice carried a teasing edge, though he kept his own cards close.

Delmon hesitated for a heartbeat, then nodded. “What are the odds of having three fives on your hand? I’m calling it.”

You flipped your first card — five. Then the second — five. And the third… five.

It was true.

Delmon froze, eyes widening as realization hit. “Huh?”

You leaned slightly toward the center of the table, a faint, triumphant smile tugging at your lips, sliding the small pile towards him. “There you go.”

Enjin’s gaze lingered on you, amusement and something warmer flickering in his chest. You weren’t even aware of the way you’d slid closer, your side almost fully pressed against him. 

He felt a soft nudge against his chest — your shoulder lightly stabbing into him. He didn’t move. He could feel the warmth radiating from you, the faint brush of your side against his, and the subtle weight of your presence.

He looked down at you, catching your eyes before you looked away. The next second, you muttered something under your breath, too faint to carry over the pounding bass from the speakers. Enjin might have only noticed because—well—he'd just been looking at your lips anyway.

An idea struck him. 

As if the proximity weren't already enough, he inched closer, letting his body press lightly against yours as he

leaned down, silently signaling that you should repeat yourself.

His arm draped over you more than it did over the seat, head tilted ever so slightly as his gaze locked with

yours, faces just inches apart—a challenge you were doomed to fail. He caught the brief flicker of your eyes

down toward his lap, though you didn't pull back.

He caught your gaze again, right as your pretty lips began to part. “I just asked if we start from ace again,” you spoke, almost in a whisper.

“No,” he replied, voice casual, but he couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. “Next is six.”

You fit against him perfectly, your frame settling into the dip of the cushions at his side, curves aligning just so. You seemed comfortable there, either unaware of how close you’d slipped toward him or simply finding it as natural as he did.

Everyone eyes shifted to Delmon now that it was his turn. He placed one card down. “Six.”

Right after, Bro laid down a seven. Supposedly. 

The turn circled back to him. 

Enjin looked at his hand. Not a single eight. It was time to bluff. No big deal.

He slid two cards into the pile, careful, measured. “Eight,” voice calm, almost casual. Not rushed, not nervous—just like always. He let his gaze flick toward you out of the corner of his eye. The way you were watching him, that slight narrowing of your eyes.

“Bluff,” you said, quiet, steady, like it wasn’t a guess—like you already knew.

He froze just for a fraction of a second, more amused than concerned.

“You think so?” he murmured lightly, leaning into the seat a little more. Not defensive. Not worried. Just curious what you’d do.

You held his gaze, unwavering. Calm. Confident.

Enjin exhaled slowly, sliding the pile toward himself. “Alright, fine,” he said under his breath, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. “You got me.”

He was just flattered to know you’d watched him so intently.

“Damn,” Bro sighed, hand on the back of his neck. “You guys are really good at this.” 

Enjin hums. “Yeah,” he says. “Something like that.”

Minutes passed, then stretched into what felt like hours. The pile grew steadily, now close to a quarter of the deck, and no one could afford to lose. Yet somehow, bluffs hadn’t been called in forever.

“You’re taking forever,” you groaned, tapping your cards lightly, fidgeting.

“I’m thinking,” he replied evenly, though the tiniest twitch of a smile betrayed him.

“Thinking about what—bluffing?”

“Wanna call it? I dare you.” 

He glanced at his cards, then back at you, then back at his hand, before cautiously sliding a ten onto the ever-growing pile.

“One king.”

It was intense.

“You’ve got to be lying, man!” Delmon exclaimed, eyes fixed on the pile as if staring harder would reveal the truth.

“Okay, call it then. See what happens.” His empty threat earned groans all around—Bro rubbing his forehead in frustration, Delmon gripping his knees like he needed an anchor. And you… still. Too still. Still in a tense way, like you were frozen in time. 

He didn’t know if it was reflex, instinct, or just a quiet urge, but his hand had started tracing lazy shapes along your shoulder. You seemed to relax into it, even if only slightly, and he was quietly glad to be of some comfort.

It also seemed to distract you from the game, which was a bonus.

It was your turn now. The pile demanded an Ace.

You picked a card and slid it onto the pile, voice even, airy. “An Ace.”

His eyes narrowed just slightly. He could tell. 

The way your fingers lingered on the card before letting it go, the tiny pause in your voice, the way your gaze flicked to him and then quickly away—you weren’t enjoying the lie as much as you should have been.

He considered calling it. Just for a moment.

But he couldn’t bring himself to let the pile crash down on you. 

He leaned back just slightly, letting his gaze rest on you for a beat longer than necessary, noting the faint lift of your chest as you exhaled, and the subtle tension easing from your shoulders. Not because he needed to, not because he wanted to punish you—just because he could.

Just because he liked it.

─────────୨ৎ─────────

You played round after round after that, the hours slipping by unnoticed. The table shifted, drinks were replaced, the music grew louder and then blurred into the background.

By the time the night began to thin out, he’d walked you through the halls and left you at your door, talking about nothing and everything at once—recent expeditions, Rudo’s progress, who had handled the trash beasts better on the last mission (obviously you). You said your goodbyes like you hadn’t half-sat in his lap just moments earlier.

And you just couldn’t shake the thought of him. 

His lingering looks.

That honeyed tone to his voice.

The way his words always seemed to push just enough to see what you’d do with them.

You’ve been trying to catch sleep for a couple hours, but the phantom sensation of his finger lazily tracing circles into your shoulder hadn’t faded. Neither had the warmth of his body pressed against yours, or the image of his sharp, calloused hands working the deck.

You groaned into your pillow, kicking your feet against the mattress (which was dumb, because your legs still hadn’t recovered—it hurt really bad).

This was frustrating. 

Even now, your body felt as though it was running just as hot as it had when pressed right against the side of his hard chest. Tingles ran over every bit of skin that touched him. Your thoughts wandered places you usually always tried to keep them from and you were failing miserably tonight. 

His naked, inked skin. 

His strong, broad frame. 

His stupid hot fucking smile. 

The way his hands would feel…

You’d usually always been able to handle him, but something was just different this time. 

This wasn’t the same old big-ego Enjin. It was him threading himself into your thoughts, somehow playing with the pace of your heartbeat, the temperature of your skin, the electric feeling in your stomach.

Sleeping was pointless. You were lucky you had nowhere to be in the morning. 

Maybe you should take a shower. 

You begrudgingly lifted your face from the squished pillow and pushed yourself up, heading to grab a change of clothes before shuffling toward the bathroom. 

By the time you reached it, your resolve had wavered enough that you didn’t even bother shutting the door fully before peeling off your sleep shirt, carelessly throwing it onto your pile of laundry you had yet to find a day to tackle. 

The water felt relieving against your skin. Today felt like the kind of day that justified turning it really hot—which Enjin always hated, since it usually meant a cold, miserable shower for him the next morning. After tonight, you figured he kind of deserved it. 

If he was going to occupy your thoughts, you were claiming the hot water. 

The sensation of the water running down your body seemed to numb the pain in your legs, but it did little to wash away the feeling of his skin pressed against yours—because of course it wouldn’t. This wasn’t a physical sensation, it was him in your head.

You turned the temperature up a notch.

It burned, but it felt good.

Single droplets pierced you like hot needles—a type of pain you actually welcomed. All the tension of the day seemed to wash off your body, disappearing down the drain along with the water.

You could stay here for hours, maybe even fall asleep like this. All your senses felt cut off from the outside world, with no room for any unwanted thoughts. Just the unbearably hot water, close enough to feel endless.

And then, there was a beep.

You froze. You hadn’t taken your choker off yet.

Someone was calling. 

You feared you knew exactly who. 

“Enjin, what the fuck? It’s, like, 1 a.m.!” you whisper-shouted, covering the choker as best you could with your hand, as though that was going to shield you in any way. 

“Huh? It’s almost 3. And I can hear you,” he replied.

“Yeah, I know, we’re in a call!” you said, exasperated.

“No, like… I can hear your shower,” he clarified, a faint chuckle in his tone.

“And you thought it’d be a good idea to call me in the shower?”

“You picked up, didn’t you?” His grin practically radiated through the call.

What you hated most in this moment wasn’t that he called—it was the fact that you were excited about it. 

And the fact that he was right.

“You don’t even know how hot my shower is running right now.” you challenged him, hoping to get him right where you knew it hurt. 

“That’s fucked up,” he laughed, like he wasn’t taking you seriously at all. “Just to tick me off? Or you just felt like showering hot?”

“I don’t have to answer that.” you mumbled, reaching for the shampoo bottle. 

“And that says so much,” he replied. “Why’re you taking a shower in the middle of the night? Didn’t you say you were tired?” 

“I was tired,” you admitted, letting the water cascade over your shoulders. “I just couldn’t fall asleep.” 

“Mm, same,” he replied. “It’s kind of your fault for turning on the shower, though.” 

“Thats on you.” And you regretted these words the moment they escaped your lips.

“What’d I do?”

Because what were you even going to tell him? That you couldn’t stop thinking about how good he smelled? That you wished his arm had fully encased you? That you actually kind of liked it when he pressed down on your bruises? That just thinking about any of it made your body react in ways you could never, ever admit out loud?

“I just don’t like you.” you muttered, scrubbing shampoo into your hair, trying to keep your voice even.

“I know that’s not true, sweetheart,” he said, his smile as audible as ever through the line.

Again with that pet name.

“I’m just gonna stop talking.” 

“You could also just hang up.” 

“Why don’t you hang up?

“I don’t want to,” he chuckled lowly. “I feel like you don’t really want to stop talking, either.” 

You heard him shuffle on his end of the line—things cluttering and moving around.

“You’re very confident in yourself.” 

“Hang up, then.” 

You didn’t reply. You didn’t hang up, either. 

“Thought so,” he murmured with a faint exhale—was he smoking?—“Wanna come over?”

“What. Now?” 

“Yeah. Or, you know what?” The sound of shifting feet, a quiet grunt. “I’m coming over.” 

Your fingers clenched slightly around the shampoo bottle, as if it was your lifeline. “I’m in the shower!” 

“Well, hurry, my foot’s out the door already.” And the click of his door shutting was, indeed, audible on the other end. 

The moment you felt the shampoo rinse completely from your hair, you stepped out of the shower, grabbing the first towel within reach.

“At least wait, like… two minutes,” you said, tugging it tighter around yourself. “Please.”

“But then I’d have to walk all the way back.”

“Our rooms are next to each other!” you shot back, exasperated.

“Yeah… way too far. Damn, you should lock your door.”

“Are you in my room right now?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, as if that settled everything.

“Just wait—sit down somewhere. I’ll be right out.” you replied hurriedly, dropping the towel after drying yourself off and getting into your giant sleep shirt. 

Shutting the bathroom door behind you and quickly shuffling your way back to your space, you find him splayed out on your bed, staring at the ceiling—or perhaps following the pattern of the smoke as it rose into the air. 

“Well?” he asked, his focus not shifting toward you quite yet. “You gonna keep me waiting?”

You crossed your arms, trying for irritation. “Do I look like I had a choice?”

Then, he spared you a glance, eyeing your frame for a moment. Then two. 

He smiled. “You look good.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Sorry?” you asked.

“You look good.” He met your eyes after letting his attention wander all over you. “Like… really good.”

You shifted on the spot, tugging at the hem of your shirt. “Don’t start with me, Enjin,” you muttered, though a faint warmth had already started spreading through your chest.

“Relax, I’m just messing with you,” he said, propping himself up against the wall. He made space on the mattress, patting the newly free spot as a silent invitation for you to get comfortable.

He brought the blunt to his lips and took a long, unhurried drag. You could practically see the smoke fill his lungs, his chest expanding before he leaned his head back slightly and exhaled, the haze curling lazily toward the ceiling. The sound he made—low, pleased—had no business shooting right through you the way it did.

You took a short breath, grounding yourself, then crossed the room and settled into the space he’d made for you. You leaned back against the pillows, angling your legs carefully so they didn’t tangle with his, even though the mattress dip made closeness unavoidable.

When you glanced over, he wasn’t looking at you anymore.

His gaze had gone distant, unfocused, like he’d drifted somewhere else entirely as the drug settled in. For a moment, you just watched him—his relaxed posture, the faint rise and fall of his chest, the way the smoke still lingered around him.

The thought that he looked kind of ethereal quietly passed your mind. 

Then, with the slightest tilt of his head, his eyes found yours again.

“Wanna try?” he asked, holding the blunt out toward you. You blinked. Once. Twice. 

“What—smoking?” you echoed.

“Yeah.” His smile was lazy, unpressuring. “You don’t have to.”

You hesitated. You’d never really felt the urge before—never saw the appeal. Still, curiosity nudged at you, persistent and annoying.

“…If you teach me?”

Something softened in his expression, just briefly, before a faint smile took over.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

He held it closer, waiting. You took it carefully, immediately aware of how little you knew about what to do with it. You’d seen people smoke before, sure—but holding it yourself felt strangely intimidating. For something so small, it suddenly felt like it carried a lot of weight.

And you were supposed to breathe that in?

“It’s pretty intuitive,” he said, watching you with open amusement. “Just don’t inhale too deeply.”

“That’s your instructions?”

“To be fair,” he chuckled, lifting his hands in lazy defense, “you’re probably gonna start coughing anyway. Just a heads up.”

Your eyes rolled on instinct.

You studied the blunt like it might give you some sort of guidance if you stared long enough. Then you brought it to your lips and took a tentative inhale.

Nothing.

Frowning slightly, you tried again—deeper this time.

Instant regret.

The burn hit fast and sharp, ripping the air straight out of your lungs. You sputtered, coughing hard as smoke escaped in uneven bursts, shoving the blunt back into his hand while you struggled to breathe. You were hunched forward, absolutely wrecked, eyes watering.

Enjin was already laughing beside you, completely unapologetic.

“I told you not too deep,” he said between laughs. “I gave you one instruction.”

You wanted to snap back—had a dozen words lined up—but air still hadn’t fully returned to your lungs, and all you could manage was a glare that only made him grin wider.

“Easy,” he said, laughter still in his voice as he shifted closer. His hand came up to your back, warm and steady, rubbing slow circles between your shoulder blades. “Breathe. I’ve got you.”

He guided you gently back against him, your spine settling against his chest.

You coughed again, sharper this time, eyes stinging as you tried to suck in air that didn’t burn. “You—” you rasped, grounding yourself with a hand on his leg. “You’re evil.”

He hummed, clearly entertained. “Yeah, yeah. Deep breaths. In through your nose. Just like that.”

You did as he said, partly out of necessity, partly because the weight of his hand made it easier. The coughing eased little by little, your chest still tight but no longer on fire.

“There you go,” he murmured, closer now, voice lower. “See? Still alive.”

Without really thinking about it, you leaned back, letting your head rest against him for just a second as you caught your breath. “I hate you,” you muttered—though it came out far less convincing than you meant it to.

His thumb traced a lazy line along your shoulder. “Mhm. I can tell.”

You exhaled sharply, shoulders tense. “You absolutely set me up.”

“I warned you,” he said, lifting the blunt past your frame and bringing it back to his lips. “You just didn’t listen.”

That’s when two things hit you at once.

One—you felt it.

Your thoughts began to loosen in a way they never had before. The constant noise in your head softened, blurred, fading into something distant and manageable.

And two—the position you were in.

Your hand resting on his thigh.

Your back pressed flush against his chest.

His arm lazily draped around you, like you just did this all the time. 

It was a dangerous combination. With your thoughts dulled and hazy, you didn’t have the energy to filter your thoughts about how much you actually liked it anymore.

He shifted slightly behind you, just enough that the pressure of his chest against your back deepened, and you felt the subtle weight of his attention resting along the back of your head.

“See?” he murmured, more to himself than you. “Knew you’d feel it.”

You frowned faintly. “Feel what?”

“The quiet,” he said, his finger lightly tapping against your temple. “You stopped fidgeting.”

That caught your attention. You‘d usually try to deny it—but you couldn’t. Your thoughts felt slower. Softer.

He sensed it before you even said anything—the way your breathing evened out, the tension in your shoulders easing, the subtleties of the things you didn’t do—like pulling away, or fighting back.

“Look at you,” he murmured, voice low, almost cooing. “So calm… seriously, this might be the longest stretch you’ve gone without barking at me.”

“Shush,” you muttered, cheeks warming. “M’not calm. N‘ I don’t bark.”

“Sure, baby,” he said, that word curling around your spine. “Whatever you say.”

And you didn’t even have it in you to fully process the new pet name. 

His hand found the hem of your shirt, tugging it lightly between his fingers, testing the fabric against your skin. Not enough to pull it up, not enough to be overt—definitely enough for you to notice.

You felt the faint brush of his thumb against your side with each little pull, a whisper of contact that made your stomach tighten.

“You’re kind of comfortable.” you muttered, trying for casual as you pulled your hand back—slowly, like you didn’t want to draw attention to it.

“Only kind of?” he asked, voice easy, almost amused. His fingers flexed once against your side, just enough to be intentional. 

“Okay,” you murmured, almost to yourself. “You’re really comfortable.” 

“Mm, sure seems like it,” he let out a soft hum. “You feeling tired?” 

“No,” you replied, letting your words trail just slightly. The warmth of your body pressed into his was dizzying. “M’just very good right now.”

His hand moved lazily along your side, brushing your hip with an absent-minded care that made your stomach twist. “Mm,” he murmured. “Want me to stay?”

You nodded. 

“Okay.” 

The room fell into a quiet that wasn’t uncomfortable, just… present. No teasing, no jokes—just him and you.

Slowly, his fingers traced the curve of your waist, mapping the gentle swell of your sides as if committing every line to memory.

Each movement was bold in intention yet measured, teasing—like he was daring you to react, and you found yourself holding still, caught between hesitation and anticipation.

The warmth of his touch spread through you in ways that weren’t just physical; it was the attention, the quiet focus of him exploring without words.

His hand was no longer just playing—it was present, outlining the frame of you, leaving you aware of every point of contact, every subtle press of skin against fabric.

His other hand slowly lifted, fingers weaving through your hair. With a practiced ease, he swept it over to one side, letting your thick sleep shirt slip just enough to expose your shoulder. The fabric pooled lazily around the curve, leaving your neck bare to the warmth of his gaze.

A content sigh left your lips. 

“You like that?” he whispered, his warm breath brushing along your ear. You already knew he didn’t need an answer—he just wanted to hear it from you.

You complied with a soft hum. 

He took one last slow drag of the blunt, the tip glowing faintly in the dim light. You caught the plume of smoke in your peripheral vision as he exhaled, and it curled lazily over your shoulder, teasing your bare skin.

With a subtle flick of his fingers, he sent the finished blunt spinning onto the floor. You were too caught up in the moment to care, letting the tension in your body unravel under his attention.

You don’t think you’ve ever been this relaxed.

The hand that had been tracing your side drifted lower, slipping past the hem of your shirt. It moved agonizingly slowly, skimming over the soft skin of your bare thigh, his thumb drawing lazy, teasing patterns—just a little too far up, just a little too far in.

Just a little too much to pass off as friendly.

He was giving you just enough—enough to make your skin burn—but never enough to truly satisfy the ache that had built up inside you. The moment felt charged, but it wasn’t as simple as just raw intimacy. 

His breath skimmed the skin of your neck in slow, even intervals. “You’re really soft.” It almost sounded like a question. 

You could feel his attention on you—the hazed focus of his gaze lingering along the line of your neck, the faint feeling of his hair grazing your skin. Then he inched in closer—slow, gentle kisses traced along the length of your neck. And despite all the tension coiled in your body, they weren’t meant to provoke—just soft, unhurried.

He pulled back, resting his head atop your shoulder. 

Part of you was relieved he didn’t take it further. Another part of you screamed at the loss of the feeling. 

“You’re not telling me to stop,” he whispered into your shoulder. 

And, yeah. You weren’t. 

You swallowed, fingers curling lightly into the fabric of his sleeve. “Yeah,” you said quietly, words slower than usual, “Should I?”

There was a pause. Not the heavy kind. Just enough to let your words settle.

“Up to you,” he replied easily, his thumb returning to trace an absent-minded line along your side. “I’d be a bit butthurt about it—but, you know. Whatever.”

That made you laugh. 

He stuck to caring strokes and gentle touches.

You drifted off to sleep in his embrace that night. 

─────────୨ৎ─────────

He was a simple man. At least, he’d always thought he was.

Things just failed to feel simple lately. 

Enjin sat at the table, leaning slightly forward as Semiu traced patrol routes on the worn map spread across the surface. Corvus flipped through the mission logs, scribbling notes in the margins with a pencil that had long since lost its eraser.

He answered questions when prompted, offered minor adjustments to the routes, corrected a timing estimate—on the surface, he was engaged.

His thoughts were entirely elsewhere.

They’d gotten stuck with you in your bedroom that night, about a week ago. 

The memory lingered at the edge of his mind, pulling his attention away even as Semiu traced the eastern perimeter—and he was fucked, since he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why she was outlining it in the first place.

The scratch of Semiu’s pencil across the map, the rustle of papers, the muted scribbling of Corvus’s notes—they all faded into the background. 

He could almost feel your warmth, hear the soft sighs you’d given him, see your eyes closing at the subtle pleasure of his touch. 

He understood heat, understood want—the easy kind, the kind you didn’t have to think too hard about. Touch, tension, release. He’d never been precious with it. Never needed to be.

So this—this gentle kind of caution—sat wrong in his chest.

The way his hands slowed before touching you. How instinct kept telling him to pull you closer, but something quieter told him not to rush. Like moving too fast might shatter something he didn’t quite have a name for yet.

That part confused him.

You’d always felt safe. Why did that matter so much right now?

And then that uniform. 

It should’ve been the usual—charming smiles, lingering touches, the spark of attraction he knew how to handle. Instead, it had hit him sideways. Like the sight of you had shifted something into place rather than set it on fire. Pride, maybe. Something that settled instead of burned.

The realization crept up on him slowly, unwelcome in how obvious it suddenly felt.

He wasn’t being gentle because he didn’t want you.

He was being gentle because, somewhere along the way, you’d started to feel precious.

And that thought lingered far longer than he wanted it to.

He absently rubbed the back of his neck as Semiu asked about polluted zones by the border of a No Man’s Land near the eastern perimeter. 

“Uh… yeah, those are clear,” he said, eyes drifting to the empty chair across the table, imagining you slumping into it, hair damp from a shower, in nothing but that huge shirt you’d worn that night.

Corvus glanced up sharply. “You even paying attention, Enjin?”

He blinked, shook his head slightly, and forced a nod. “Yeah, just… thinking ‘bout the deployment,” he muttered, realizing how transparent that sounded.

He’d like to get deployed with you again. 

No. Stop. Not now. 

It wasn’t about him seeing you for the first time when he laid eyes on you that day in the hallway. Something in him had been stirred awake, something that had been dormant for quite some time.

Granted, the way you looked definitely didn’t hurt.

He just hated how smitten he felt about it.

Once he realized you’d fallen asleep, breathing slow and even against his chest, he’d chosen to give you space. He’d tucked you in carefully—too carefully, if you asked him—pulled the blanket up to around your shoulders and all that. Left without waking you.

He took a shower after. Cold.

For once, he didn’t even mind that you’d used up all the hot water. He’d planned on it anyway. 

He just couldn’t believe the way he was treating you.

Enjin wasn’t selfish—just a bit indulgent. A hedonist in the simplest sense. He liked what felt good and had never been shy about reaching for it. 

He wasn’t unfamiliar with want. He knew exactly how far he could’ve gone, how easy it would’ve been to guide you there with him. You would’ve let him. He was sure of that. And he would’ve taken care of you — that wasn’t the issue.

Because, fuck—he wanted to.

So why didn’t he take you?

You hadn’t been tense. You hadn’t been provoking. You’d been safe.

Again, safe. 

He was starting to get fed up with safe. 

He clenched his jaw. It annoyed him, the way he’d held back. Especially considering the things he could’ve done to you—wanted to do to you. Thinking about making you call out his name like it was the only thing you knew how to say anymore—over and over again.

And yet. 

He didn’t. 

He replayed it in his head more times than he cared to admit—the way you’d leaned back into him without thinking. The way your voice had softened. The way you hadn’t told him to stop.

You would’ve let him.

That was the problem.

It wouldn’t have taken much. A slight shift of his hand. Turning your face toward his and closing the distance. You were already pliant in his arms, hazy and warm and trusting.

Trusting.

His jaw tightened again.

Of all the things he could’ve done—wanted to do—he’d chosen restraint.

His mouth had found your neck, yes—but only in the softest way. Slow, measured presses of his lips against your skin. It was the one thing he couldn’t quite stop himself from taking.

Even then, he’d been careful.

And when had he ever been careful?

Enjin didn’t do careful. He did instinct. He did desire. He did taking and giving in the same breath. Going with the flow of things.

This time, something in him had paused.

Not out of uncertainty. Not out of fear that you’d reject him.

Out of something worse.

He didn’t want to cheapen it. 

The thought irritated him more than anything else. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply through his nose.

Even here, surrounded by stained papers, pencils, and scattered mugs, the thought of you was impossible to shake.

Seeing you in your uniform hadn’t started this. It had just made it harder to ignore. The way you carried yourself. The way you focused. The quiet competence. It had sharpened something that had already been there.

When had he become so aware of you? Of the way you looked at him differently lately. Of the way his body reacted to even the smallest shifts in your tone.

He wasn’t used to wanting something slowly.

It was unsettling. 

Because if this was just lust, he would’ve satisfied it already.

And he was only just starting to realize it.

Semiu and Corvus started gathering their things. Somehow, the word dismissed drifted into his awareness, and before he fully realized it, he was up as well, tidying alongside them—hands moving almost automatically, thoughts still elsewhere.

Moments later, he waved them goodbye and stepped out of the briefing room, moving through the low, humming halls.

The day had passed in a blur.

He’d looked for you briefly, only to be told you’d been cooped up in your room all day, finishing reports you had let pile up and procrastinated—you really hated paperwork. 

And he just knew that about you. 

At some point, he’d bumped into Semiu in the common area. She had finished her work for the day early and didn’t really have anything left to do—she figured she’d like to use the evening to enjoy herself, or something along those lines.

Enjin had agreed.

That’s how he found himself in a crowded bar—or club—he wasn’t even sure and it didn’t really matter. He was perched at a table, smoking his blunt—as per usual—while Semiu sipped a drink across from him, seemingly enjoying the light buzz in her system. 

The music did most of the work in drowning out his thoughts. Around him, people were dancing, some were flirting, touching. Others were getting wasted, a couple were fighting. The colorful light pierced through the clouds of smoke all over the place. 

The kind of environment he usually thrived in. 

Usually—

Oh. Semiu was talking to him. 

“…many prank calls. Like, seriously, it pisses me off,” Semiu ranted, leaning back in her chair, fingers tapping impatiently on the table.

“Totally,” he replied, taking a slow drag from his blunt. The smoke curled around his fingers as his gaze drifted over the crowd, half-present, half-lost in thought.

“I’m too nice on the phone. I bet the hell guards don’t get calls like that,” she continued, voice rising slightly with exasperation.

And he tried so hard—genuinely—to listen to his coworker and friend he held so close to his heart. He really, really did.

“Yeah, seems unlikely,” he murmured, blowing the smoke upward and letting it dissipate into the dim light.

“Enjin. What’s up with you today?” Semiu pressed, leaning forward now, her eyes narrowing slightly as she caught the distracted set of his eyes.

“Hm?” He blinked, realizing she’d actually addressed him, fingers flexing absently around the blunt.

“During the briefing, too. You, like, disconnected from the world or something?” Her arms crossed over the table, resting the weight of them on it.

“Nah, I’m good,” he said, a faint grin tugging at his lips, taking another slow inhale. “Why? You worried about little ol’me?”

 “A’ight. Imma take your word for it. For now,” she sighed, shaking her head. “But also only because I’m so fed up by the calls I don’t really have the capacity to listen to you right now.” 

“Honestly,” he said, exhaling the last of the smoke from his lungs before flicking the blunt into the ashtray on the table, “works f’me.”

“You’re welcome, boo.” 

Enjin felt a dip in the seat next to him. 

In his peripheral, a woman, about a head and a half shorter than him. It almost slipped his mind that things like this happened to him more often than not—that he usually waited for them.

“Hey,” she smiled at him, feigning innocence, though they were both well aware of her intentions. “Your name’s Enjin, right?”

Ah. So he’d spoken to her before—somewhere, sometime.

He finally spared her a proper look. She sat upright, legs elegantly crossed, hair cascading over one shoulder like a deliberate portrait. A subtle flush colored her cheeks, softening her features. 

And—usually—she’d be just the type of woman he’d go for.

But today was not a usual day.

“Nope.” He popped the p with unnecessary emphasis. “Name’s Goostaf Hurgenskurk.”

The look on Semiu’s face in his peripheral was priceless—her eyebrows shot up, mouth half-open in a mixture of shock and amusement, like she couldn’t quite decide whether to laugh or glare.

“Oh, sorry,” she stammered, stepping back a little. “Must’ve confused you with someone.”

She turned on her heel and hurried away, leaving him with a faint smirk tugging at his lips. He watched her retreat, letting the brief amusement linger before his thoughts drifted back to… well, everything else.

“So,” Semiu said, raising her glass to her lips, holding his gaze deliberately as she took a slow sip before setting it back on the table. “Goostaf.”

“I don’t even know,” he sighed, running a hand over his face. “I was just trying to think of a weird name.”

“Why, though?” Semiu leaned back, tone soft with genuine curiosity. “She’s pretty. You always let a pretty girl take you home with them, no?”

“You make me sound like a manwhore,” he muttered, a defeated chuckle escaping him.

“Well…” Her voice trailed off, insinuating—just letting the thought hang in the air.

Enjin groaned, letting his head fall back against the chair. “I just don’t feel like it today.”

“I feel like,” she said slowly, tilting her head up, a knowing look slipping into her expression now, “you’re just feeling someone else.”

And—however she figured it out—he knew that she was right.

The thought settled heavier than he expected. He’d been circling it all day, avoiding it, dressing it up as confusion or exhaustion. But now, sitting in the middle of a crowded bar with music pounding around him and with his good friend sitting across him, it finally landed.

Properly.

“Fuck, Semiu,” he groaned, dragging his hands down his face before letting his forehead fall briefly into his palms. The realization hit harder than any drink or drug in the room ever could.

Her brows lifted. “Is that what’s been bothering you all day?”

“Yeah,” he exhaled, sitting back again, staring at the table instead of her. “I just—I haven’t really seen her for a week. We keep missing each other at work,” he rubbed at the back of his neck. “It’s rough.”

“You should just stop ogling her every chance you get and man up,” Semiu said, tapping her fingers lightly on the table, eyes fixed on him with quiet insistence.

“Ogling is a kind of a strong word for it.” 

“She ogles you too.” 

“Yeah, I know,” he let out a short laugh, shaking his head, before letting out a sigh. “I’m losing my mind.”

“No, man,” she said simply. “You’re okay.” A small pause. “Just let her know.”

He looked up at her. “Now?”

She shrugged lightly. “Depends—do you want to tell her now?”

─────────୨ৎ─────────

You. Despised. Paperwork. With. A. Burning. Passion. 

Hours had passed since you’d started, and the stack of reports in front of you had barely shrunk. Every form felt the same as the last, every column and checkbox an endless, mind-numbing loop.

Your pen scratched across the page, filling in numbers, ticking boxes, repeating the same information over and over, trying desperately not to make mistakes. Your eyes ached, your back was stiff, and your brain was screaming for even a single moment of entertainment.

You slammed your pen down. Enough. You needed a break. 

For a moment, you leaned back in your chair. The room was quiet, the night outside slanting through the window casting a cold light on the mess of papers. You hadn’t moved from that spot all day, and it showed.

Boredom clung to you like a second skin. Attention fractured. Thoughts wandered.

You missed everyone. Watching Zanka train Rudo from the corner of the training yard, hearing Semiu’s voice echo from the common area, even the occasional gruff comment from Delmon — all of it made you wish you could be anywhere else right now.

But you’d told everyone to stay out of your room unless it was an emergency. No distractions. No interruptions. You needed to get through the paperwork, and the last thing you wanted was someone leaning over your shoulder asking questions or chatting.

It was definitely what you wanted, though. 

Still, even in the quiet, your thoughts kept drifting. You missed him too.

No. Focus.

You let out a long, tired sigh, shoulders slumping as you rubbed at the ache in your neck. The pen hovered uselessly above the next form.

Your eyes wandered across the room, landing on the stack of completed reports next to you—neat, precise, and utterly soul-crushing. You pushed it away with a flick of your wrist. 

Enough of this.

You’d finish the rest tomorrow. 

You leaned back in your chair, stretching your legs and letting the tension in your body ease slightly. Somewhere in the corner of your mind, you imagined him there—on your bed, attention drifting into nothingness as smoke swirled gently around him, unhurried and soft—and him looking utterly peaceful. Pretty.

A knock at the door froze you mid-stretch.

Your heart skipped. You’d told everyone to stay out unless it was urgent.

Another knock. Louder this time. Your chest tightened. You hesitated, staring at the door, mind racing through every possible scenario.

Slowly, cautiously, you approached and cracked it open. 

To your surprise, it was Enjin. 

And as much as he didn’t look like he was about to deliver bad news, something about him had shifted. The air around him felt different.

No performative expression. No mischief in his eyes. No provoking glint. Something much softer had settled over his sharp features—a contrast that made your chest ache a little.

“Hey,” you said, brows knitting slightly. “Did something happen?”

“No,” he answered simply. His voice was calm. Certain. “Not at all.” A beat. “Can I come in?”

You studied him for a second longer, searching his face for anything you might’ve missed. Finding nothing urgent—just your own curiosity—you stepped aside.

He moved past you without another word. Not brushing against you, not lingering—close enough that you felt the warmth of him as he crossed the threshold. The door clicked shut behind him, the sound louder than it should’ve been.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

He took in your room—the desk crowded with papers, the stack you’d shoved aside, the pen lying abandoned where you’d dropped it. His gaze lingered there briefly before returning to you.

The silence wasn’t awkward.

It was heavy.

And whatever he’d come here to say—you felt like it mattered.

Just that he didn’t say anything. He looked at you, held your gaze as though he had all the time in the world. Like it stood still, right here in this room—with you. 

You caught the faintest dip in his gaze—just slightly, brushing over the lines of your shoulders, the skin underneath the collar of your shirt—the smallest of shifts of his irises—before returning to your eyes.

You felt like you were being… scanned. For something. But you didn’t have the capacity to commit your mind to what that could possibly be, because your focus was on something entirely unrelated. 

The breadth of his shoulders. 

The vivid reds and blacks inked into his skin. 

The loose curl of his hair falling near his temple.

He didn’t say anything. Not with words, at least. But you were beginning to understand.

He stepped toward you, slow and unhurried, closing the space without breaking eye contact—which felt like a bit of a crime in and of itself. It was unbelievably nauseating, made you feel powerless, but in kind of a good way. 

Had he always been so tall? He really towered over you—couldn’t even look at him anymore without folding your head back.

His hand found yours first, fingers curling gently as he drew you in. You could feel sparks at the tips of your own—and it hurt. It hurt so much, because all the tension in your body seemed to come crashing down on you all at once and it hurt so much it felt good, somehow. 

Then, it snaked around your waist, steady, holding you close. You didn’t quite grasp what was actually happening, you just knew you wanted more, but also anticipated possibly throwing up butterflies any second now. 

His body was so unbelievably warm and big—the scope of it so up close was a bit hard to grasp. You feel the outlines of his defined body through his thin sweater and you forgot how to breathe for a second. 

His other hand came up to cup your face, gently—so unbelievably gentle, like your skin might crack under anything more; it almost made you cry. 

His fingers slipped into your hair, careful, slow. His thumb moved back and forth along your cheek, steady and soft. Tender—and you started wondering when you would have ever described him that way. 

You were beginning to understand.

Your initial hesitance vanished into thin air along with the ability to think straight. 

And all the what-ifs and maybes that had been crowding your mind melted away the instant he pressed his lips against yours

The sound of your heart pounding mixed with the ringing in your ears; you were certain you were about to die, if it wasn’t for the way he was squeezing your frame against his, like he promised to catch you if you were going to fall. 

He was slow. Tentative. Testing the waters, as if silently asking for permission you’d already given him a million times over in your head. 

His grip on your waist tightened just slightly, almost accidental—trying so hard to hold back, yet his true immediacy shone through the cracks of his performative reluctance. 

He had been just as desperate to do this to you as you had been to have it happen. 

You felt the butterflies do their thing again—and it was fucked up how easily he’d given them to you, with something as simple as a kiss and a couple touches entirely unraveling you. 

Shivers trickled down your spine at the sensation of him, of it all; his warmth radiating through the fabric of his sweater, his lips moving with your own in a painfully—agonizingly—slow tandem. 

Then he pulled back—no more than an inch—your soft, warm breaths mingling in the small space between you. A lazy, faint smile on his face. 

“Hey,” he exhaled.

A simple word. It didn’t mean anything, really—but it did. And you understood.

“Hi.” Your voice almost ran out. Airy. Barely even there.

His grin widened, before he leaned back in again. Initially soft and merciful touches turned more intense, intentional; a firmer grip on you, a stronger tug on the back of your head, tangling into the strands of your hair at the nape of your neck.

Your body, your mind, your everything seemed to solely focus in on him. There was nothing more important than this, him kissing you senseless and holding onto you like you were going to disappear if he didn’t. 

You felt him grow impatient with each passing moment—pulling your body even closer by the small of your back—and you couldn’t help but notice how large his hand felt there. He angled his head just right to deepen the kiss with natural finesse. He was everywhere—filling all your senses, overwhelming your system in ways you never thought possible.

He smelled of faint hints of tobacco, though he tasted a lot fresher than you’d expected—almost minty in flavour. The mix of cigarettes and mint made for a spicy tingle on your tongue and all you could think about was how it kind of fit the man you were holding onto like a lifeline. 

Your hands found the nape of his neck, feeling up the short hairs of his sharp undercut.

You were trying to catch a thought—any thought—at least a single word—but you hadn’t taken a proper breath in nearly half a minute, and it was definitely starting to affect your ability to think clearly.

That he hoisted you up by the underside of your thighs with controlled ease a moment later—not breaking away from you for even a second—did not help in the slightest. He took a few steps somewhere—before your back met the hard surface of the wall behind you.

Your legs comfortably tangled around his waist as he pinned you against it with his hips, hard. The hand previously on your cheek joined the other on your waist, fingers digging into your side, abandoning any idea of slow and tender.

Your own hands traveled beneath his collar, nails dragging across bare skin and if he didn’t have this tattoo you were sure there’d be deep, red scratches there. 

Groans rippled through him with every drag of your nails, the sound shooting straight through your stomach. It only seemed to provoke him further—pulling you closer by the arch of your back and pressing you against him, his fingers digging in just enough that you knew you’d feel it the next morning.

The kiss turned messy. There was no sense or rhythm to it, only pure instinct and insatiable hunger for the other. No matter how close he was—how deeply his fingers dug into your skin—you still felt like he couldn’t be further away. You wanted him closer, as close as physically possible and more. 

He moved on towards your neck and it was nothing like the faint pecks he’d left there that night a week ago. This was him devouring you, moving right on the edge between pleasure and pain. His kisses stung as he bit them into your skin, likely tainting it with red and blue hues. “You feel so fucking good,” he whispered, basking in the way your body twitched—your sweet gasps nothing short of music to his ears. 

Once he felt like he was done with one place, he’d continue his assault further down along the blank canvas of your skin, leaving only stinging spots behind, before finally returning to your swollen lips, leaving one single, slow and deep kiss. 

“Enjin,” you heaved—the first time you were able to take a long breath in a hot minute. 

“Mm?” He hummed, leaving lazy pecks on your lips, eyes entirely dazed. Sometimes, he’d move it to the corner of your mouth, your cheek, your jaw—just peppering you with gentle kisses, taking his sweet time with it. 

His grip on you told a whole different story.

His huge hands encasing more of you than you could have ever expected, pinning you against him with little to no effort, like your weight meant absolutely nothing to him. And why would it? He was easily two times your size, if not more. 

“I need—“ kiss.  “—more,” another kiss. “Please.” 

He pulled back an inch or two, a faint yet devilish smile adorning his face. “More of what, sweetheart?” 

His head dipped back into the crook of your neck, lips grazing the newly mark-ridden parts of your skin, leaving a couple more soft kisses along their pattern. “More of this?”  

And he was well aware that that was not what you meant. You knew he knew that was not what you had meant—and it was frustrating to no end. The ache between your legs was getting more unbearable by the second. “No—want you to touch me,” you whined. You tried to ease the tension by pulling him closer, shifting your hips against him—every attempt in vain.

He had you pinned securely in place, and there was no adjusting it without his help. Without his permission. “Please, Enjin.”

“I am touching you, baby,” he huffed a breathy laugh, before holding his hand out to you, offering it. “Here. Move it to where you want me, sweetheart.” 

You held his gaze for a moment, weighing your options. It hurt your ego to have to admit this to him in such a degrading way—and still, a part of you felt so cared for. Your pride urged you to save face, but given the position you were in, there wasn’t necessarily much ego left to save. If accepting his offer meant getting the itch scratched you so desperately needed attention for, then it was simply what you had to do.

And so—without breaking the eye contac—you took his hand in your own and first guided it down the like of your body and underneath the hem of your shirt. His brow quirked slightly, eyes darkening as it met the plush of the inside of your legs. 

Ever so slowly, you moved it a couple inches further in and further up, until his fingers finally met the sole layer of fabric separating you from what you’re asking of him. 

The smile that grew on his face was something else. 

He shifted, properly supporting your weight on one leg while keeping you steady with a hand snaked around the small of your back. Then, without hurry, he tugged the fabric aside, running his fingers along your sore, wet folds.

His gaze tilted down to where his hand disappeared beneath the fabric of your shirt. “Damn, baby. You’re soaked,” he let his fingers dip into you for nothing more than a couple inches before running them up and down again—tracing you. Memorizing you. “Fuck, that’s hot.” 

The sounds that left you would have left you feeling quite embarrassed, if you weren’t so distracted right now. The relief of the friction did a lot to sate your desire for a moment—but you could already feel yourself wanting more. 

He seemed to have picked up on it as his fingers moved upwards to solely focus on your wanting and waiting clit. Your eyes shut close at the sudden feeling of him finally giving you what you’d needed, gripping at his shoulders for dear life as if you’d fall if you didn’t and whining his name through broken breaths like a personal mantra.

He hummed. You felt his muscles shift beneath your palms, like his head had tilted upwards—like he was looking at you again. “Yes, pretty girl?” 

“S’really good,” you exhaled, opening your eyes only to see Enjin already fully focused on you through your hazed vision. 

“I know, baby, I know,” he cooed, corner of his lip faintly quirking upwards. “Wasn’t even gonna do this with you,”—he leaned in, eyes falling to your lips before catching them with his in a short kiss—“was gonna come here and tell you how I feel. Wanted to spend more time with you, ask you out on a nice date, do it right this time—but you,” his eyes met your gaze again—this time, more intense. 

His previously tender attention towards your clit turned overwhelming in an instant. The pad of his finger moved a little faster and harder now—each deliberate stroke drawing a sharp, involuntary twitch from your body.

You’d never felt so overstimulated, every sensation heightened to the brink, and yet some reckless part of you was completely, helplessly into it.

Soft whines slipped from your mouth, and if anyone happened to be on the other side of the wall you were pressed against, you were certain they’d be able to hear you.

“Looked up at me all doe eyed like that. Said ‘please’ like that.” His fingers dipped into you without warning, two of them filling you more than two fingers ever should be able to, but, of course, Enjin and his blessed, huge hands, took little to now effort to make you see stars. “This what you wanted , sweetheart?” 

“Mm, yes,” you breathed, pure instinct taking over as you pulled him back in by the nape of his neck.

It drove you insane—the way you felt his jaw shift against your palm, the slow graze of his tongue along your bottom lip, the steady curl of his fingers inside you, again and again and again.

“Mm,”—he separated from you for a moment—“s’just for you, baby,”—before leaning back in. His fingers curled inside you again and again, brushing that sensitive spot that made your insides tighten and your skin burn in ways no one had ever made you feel before. 

He had something about him—some kind of chemistry that felt entirely unique to Enjin. That towering height, those striking features, paired with his addictive charisma that showed in the way he talked to you—in the way he touched you, kissed you.

It wasn’t demanding in a forceful sense. It was unraveling. It was simple. You were willing to hand yourself over completely—without him ever having to ask. Like some sort of spell. 

Without breaking away, his fingers slowly slipped from you ever so slowly, drawing a soft whine from you straight into the kiss. You felt the faint curve of his smile against your lips. Then his hands were on you again, firm and sure as he hoisted you up against him and carried you away from the wall. 

The edge of your desk met the backs of your thighs as he eased you onto it with controlled care, settling you against the surface. You felt the edges and corners of the sheets of paper you’d just been working on minutes ago right beneath you, itching and poking at your skin. 

With one last, teasing bite to your bottom lip, he pulled back from your kiss-swollen lips with a devilish glint in his eyes.

He lifted his fingers to his mouth—the ones previously teasing you beyond measure—and licked them clean of you without breaking his hazy gaze from you. You could tell he was doing it just to mess with you—and it was working unfortunately well. 

Your attention drifted to the thing repeatedly pressing against your inner thigh, and a mix of curiosity and anticipation washed over you. 

Given the size of him—his body, his hands, his limbs—you had expected him to be a certain… size. And in a way, he met those expectations. But to feel the bulge of him so intimately pressed against you made it hit you all at once—now that your bodies were pressed close to flush against one another. 

This man was big. 

Your hand reached towards the hem of his pants, almost instinctively, before his own hand caught yours by the thin of your wrist. Looking back up at him you noticed the corner of his mouth curled upwards. “Not now, pretty girl.” 

Your head tilted in response. “Why not?” 

 “Some other time. Jus’ wanna focus on you today,” he brought your hand within his towards himself, leaving a couple of gentle pecks along the inside of your wrist.

“But what about you?” 

“I’ll enjoy you, baby,” he leaned back in, pausing just an inch before, a devilishly charming smirk resting on him. “Don’t worry your pretty head about it.” 

His lips found yours again, trading a few more heated kisses before drifting to the corner of your mouth, along the line of your jaw, and down to your already tender neck.

He roamed your body with no shame, tracing your every line—from the swell of your chest to the plush of your hips. Groping at your sides and circling your waist with his hands, before pushing you backwards for you to lean against the wall behind you, forcing himself between your legs, casually. 

His hands found their way between them again, collecting the slick on his fingers, before lazily drawing patterns over your pulsing, sore clit, drawing all sorts of sounds and reactions from you as passively pumped his fingers in and out of you every now and then, like it was just second nature to him. 

His kisses trailed downward—past your heaving chest, along the curve of your stomach, across the warmth of your thighs—before his head finally settled between your legs, where he left a mix of teasing love-bites and gentle, lingering pecks on the insides of your thighs.

“You’re very kissable,” he commented from his position on his knees, looking up at you as he guided your legs to rest atop his shoulders. 

The sight was charged—this huge man, both in height and breadth, overwhelming in body mass and bearing the authority of the head of your team, kneeling there in front of you. Something about the commanding way he held himself even in that submissive posture. 

It didn’t make him any less impressive—or any smaller—in your eyes. If anything, the juxtaposition only made him more magnetic.

He looked fucking hot.

His hair all messed up, lips kiss-swollen, mirroring your own, skin covered in a thin layer of sweat, eyes dazed with pleasure and radiating the sheer power he naturally carried. His brow was quirked ever so slightly, a faint, mischievous smile on his face.

“Is that why you bit my neck raw?” you asked, looking down at him through your own daze, fingers grazing through the short strands of his hair, not much bite in your voice despite your words.

He huffed a laugh, and your heart skipped a beat.

“M’about to do much worse than just eat your neck, babygirl,” he said lowly, his hot breath traveling past the thin skin of your inner thighs, his gaze traveling downwards. 

And with that, his tongue dipped through your folds, dragging a slow lick up your heated, pulsing core. Your breath shuddered, your hand gripping at his hair to anchor yourself as he worked you up.

His hands wrapped around your thighs, your feet resting on his shoulders as he pinned you against his face, tongue dragging up and down through your folds and making a point to flick your sensitive, aching clit in the process.

“E–Enjin… ah—s’ so good.”

You felt him suck it into his mouth, toying with it between his lips before letting it go in a wet kiss and continuing his assault. You felt like the meal of a starving man.

He had no shame in the way he was eating you—the sounds he was making, the way he was practically making out with you. What you’d yearned to feel was finally coming true, and your body and mind seemed to sing with the relief he was finally granting you.

He pressed the flat of his tongue against your clit, rhythmically dragging it up and down. His fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs, holding you against him as to leave no room for escape—at least not until he was done with you. 

This man you’d known to be so indulgent in his own pleasure now shifting his focus entirely onto you left an impact that would haunt you for the rest of your life. No one had ever treated you the way he did, touched you the way he had—made you feel the way he was making you feel.

You’d certainly never experienced anyone going down on you of their own free will—let alone seeming to take pleasure in it themselves. 

No man, no less.

And yet, here he was, caging you against him, just in case the pleasure he was giving you became too much to handle—which, judging by the way it was building up, it already was starting to feel that way. He definitely wasn’t letting you go.

The friction drove you crazy, made you feel as though you were floating and falling all at once. You couldn’t decide whether to pull him even closer or push him away, but you knew that everything about him felt so fucking good and something was building up inside of you that only he could unravel.

One of his hands loosened its grip on your thigh, sliding down and around it, before two fingers began pumping into you, curling against the spot Enjin had claimed the moment you had guided his hands between your legs.

“Ah—please don’t stop,” you writhed and you whined, eyes shutting close at the overwhelming feeling of him flooding your senses.

“M’right here, baby,” he breathed against you, before turning his attention back to your puffy clit, fingers deep and curled inside you. 

Pleasure twisted into an intoxicating kind of pain—the rare kind that made you ache to explore it even more. It burned, it stung, sharp and sweet all at once, and yet you knew with absolute certainty that if he stopped right now you would shatter into a million miserable pieces. 

Without warning, he suckled your clit into his mouth again, flicking his tongue over it as his fingers pumped in and out of you with relentless rhythm. Your legs instinctively clamped around his head, trying to shut out the overwhelming sensation, to push him away—to no avail.

Your body reacted on its own, trying to relieve the strain he was putting on you, but your mind wanted nothing more than to keep him as close as humanly possible.

“M‘ gonna… please… s’so much,” you whimpered, forever torn between pulling him closer and trying to escape.

That only seems to edge him on as he raised the intensity, moving harder and faster in every way imaginable and making you see stars and cry his name like a desperate prayer.

“Enjin—fuck, s‘so good, please-” 

Your climax crashed over you, leaving you trembling in the wake of it.

Like the good man he’d proven himself to be, he guided you through it, helping you ride the wave, tracing lazy circles over your clit with his tongue while his fingers moved in slow, languid rhythm. Finally, he pulled back with one last, gentle kiss to your now tender and abused clit. 

He slowly rose to his full height, hands flat on the surface of the table, encasing your pleasure-drained body, your torso leaning half against the wall.

“If I had known you taste this good I’d have done this a lot sooner,” he smiled, catching your lips in a kiss you couldn’t resist if you tried. 

“Mm,” you replied in a haze, returning the pecks he was giving you and tasing yourself on lips tongue. “Can I return the favor?” 

“As much as I’d love to see you try, baby,” he smiles, helping you off the desk as he scoops you into his arms effortlessly, making his way to the bathroom with you. “How about we take a hot shower together and I take you out on a date first?”

─────────୨ৎ─────────

PT2 >>> detergent & sweets

CREDIT WHERE CREDIT IS DUE :3

thanks to my amazing beta readers @zukunyy and @imjusttrashignoreme

thanks to my boyfriend who helped me write a service top because he just can

and thanks to @pixopix for the dividers :3

but right now you weren't having fun at all.

nanami slowly leaned in. his hot breath hit your ear, making you shiver. "you look spooked, sweetheart. you okay?" he said, and he sounded dangerously protective. "y-yeah, i'm fine," you gulped, trying not to look at him. "it's just super hot in here."

you noticed nanami lookedup at higuruma. for a while they just stared at each other in silence, and then this slow, knowing grin spread across both their faces. that look made your knees go weak. higuruma took his time taking off his jacket. he did it slow, eyes locked on yours, and tossed the expensive thing right on the dirty floor.

"what a shame," he said, rolling up his sleeves and showing off those strong forearms. "maybe we should talk about your behavior."

before you could get a single word out, nanami's heavy hands landed on your waist. he pulled you back, pressing you into his hard chest. "you've been waiting for this the whole time, haven't you?" he whispered into your hair. "teasing us so much."

"i... i have no idea what you're talking about," your voice shook, and your heart was thumping so loud they both definitely heard it. hiromi stepped even closer. his hands hit your thighs, bunching up your skirt. "oh, trust me, you know exactly what we're talking about."

they literally crushed you between them, and you felt the burning heat of their bodies. nanami grabbed your chin and pulled it up, forcing you to look at him. "i think it's time to teach you a lesson."

he didn't let you scream — his mouth covered yours in a demanding kiss. he kissed you deep, filling you up with himself, while hiromi went for your neck at the same time, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses on your skin. your head started spinning and reality started to blur.

nanami pulled back from your lips for a second and then with one sharp, confident move he grabbed you by the waist. before you could even gasp, you were up in the air. he held you there, making your legs spread wide and hooking your knees over his arms. now you were basically hanging on him — your back pressed against his chest, and you were completely open in front of both of them.

your short skirt rode up to your waist, leaving you in just thin panties. nanami went back to your ear, nibbling on your lobe and cheek before sliding down to your neck. meanwhile, higuruma slowly unbuttoned your blouse, button by button, and as the fabric parted, he started biting your chest, making you arch in kento’s arms.

"wait— mmnh! hiromi..." you gasped, "there're cameras in the elevator... maybe we should go..."

"don't worry 'bout that, darling," nanami laughed low and soft, pressing his lips to your shoulder. "don't you worry your pretty little head."

hiromi finally threw your shirt open and slowly moved down with kisses toward your stomach. "just enjoy what we're gonna do now, okay?"

he got down on his knees, and you felt his hot breath scorch your delicate skin. he didn't rush. first, his lips barely brushed the inside of your thighs, leaving light, almost weightless kisses that sent an electric charge through your body. you felt nanami tighten his grip on your knees from behind, locking you in the air; you literally couldn't move.

"look how wet she is. perfect," hiromi rasped, looking at how the slick glistened on your already damp pussy. "you wanted this, didn't you? for us to see how much this little pussy leaks when it's needy?"

"n-nngh!... hiromi…" your moan drowned in the quiet hum of the elevator as he lifted two fingers and unceremoniously stretched your folds apart to fully expose you. at first, he just teased you with the tip of his tongue, short and wet strokes. you felt him lick away the drops, smacking his lips, savoring your taste.

"mmngh! haah! please…" you jerked in nanami’s arms, but he just held you tighter against his chest. "hold on, sweetie, we're just gettin' started," he whispered in your ear, and at that moment, he started to slowly rotate your hips in circular motions.

those circles made you literally rub against hiromi’s face. you felt the stubble on his chin, his nose pressing into your already swollen clit, and his tongue going right into your soaking pussy. wet, obscene sounds echoed in the cramped elevator.

"haah! more… nngh!" you weren't in control of your sounds anymore, gasping with pleasure. "oh yeah," hiromi growled, not pulling away for a second, "you're so sweet. i'm gonna lick you dry 'til you start beggin' us to stop."

his pace picked up. he went rougher now. hiromi didn't tease anymore. he took your clit between his lips and started sucking on it hungrily like he’d fuckin' die if he didn't.

"a-ah! hiromi! nngh-aa!" you screamed, throwing your head back on nanami’s shoulder while he kissed your cheek, holding you in place, and your cry echoed through the tight cabin.

hiromi’s tongue went deep between your stretched folds, licking everything inside, while the two fingers he’d managed to shove in kept roughly stretching you, opening every millimeter of your tender flesh for his mouth. loud, squelching sounds of your pussy and the wet sounds of his mouth filled the elevator.

"mmm, look what you're doin' to us," nanami kept rotating your pelvis, forcing you to grind even harder onto hiromi’s tongue. "you wanted this, didn't you? walkin' 'round in front of us in those skirts that show off your ass?"

"haah! mmngh… ahh! more… more!" you didn't even know what you were saying anymore. the man behind you didn't give you a second's break — his palm covered your mouth, muffling your next moan. "hiromi, please… mmmngh-ah!" you broke free from nanami’s hand, and your moans got louder. "yes! right there! ahh-h!"

nanami pulled his hand away from your face only to sink into your lips, catching your next whimper. "stick out your tongue, baby," he whispered, and you obeyed before you could even think. "come on."

as soon as you parted your mouth and the tip of your tongue peeked out, nanami let out a low growl and bit into your lips. he captured your tongue with his lips and started sucking on it, slow and greedy. "mmmmmfff!.. kento!... " you moaned right into his mouth, feeling your whole body tighten like a string.

nanami sucked your tongue rhythmically, like he owned it, making you gasp for air. meanwhile, higuruma, feeling your reaction, stretched your folds even wider and sucked on your clit with twice the force. "mmmngh... most perfect sweet pussy. gonna eat this little swollen clit up."

your sounds turned totally incoherent, becoming a solid stream of moans and ragged breaths mixed with whimpers. nanami pulled away from your tongue for a second, his whisper brushing right against your lips. "good girl. hear how loud you're bein' for us?"

your body was stretched to the limit, like a wire about to snap. nanami kept dominantly sucking your tongue, cutting off your oxygen and making you choke on your own moans while his hips rhythmically rotated your pelvis, grinding you into hiromi’s face. you thrashed convulsively in kento’s arms, feeling everything inside tighten into an unbearably hard, hot knot.

higuruma, feeling your orgasm coming, stretched your already swollen folds with his fingers until it almost hurt, and for the last time, sucked your clit in as deep as possible, licking it frantically. a loud, dominant squelching filled the cramped elevator.

"a-a-ah! kent— oh god, i'm gonna... mmmngh-a-a-a!" your scream broke into a rasp as the first wave of orgasm literally ripped through you.

you felt your muscles inside start to contract uncontrollably, pulsing hot wetness right onto hiromi’s face. you shuddered all over, your legs on nanami’s shoulders shaking with a fine tremor. kento pulled away from your tongue at that moment just to catch your wide-open mouth in a silent scream and greedily breathe in your orgasmic moan.

you gasped, your head falling onto nanami’s shoulder as white spots swam before your eyes. hiromi didn't stop even when you started twitching in convulsions. he kept greedily licking and sucking up your slick, which was now dripping down his chin and lips.

"hiromi, stop... ah... i can't anymore..." you went limp in kento’s arms, feelin' a heavy, leaden weakness spread through your body. you barely breathed, pressing your forehead against nanami’s shoulder. your body still shook with small, lingerin' tremors, and your head was a total vacuum. you were literally floating in the clouds after such a crushing orgasm, feeling like soft, pliable clay in their hands.

but the blissful silence didn't last long. nanami pulled back a bit to look at your face and took you by the chin, forcing your blurred gaze to focus on him.

"you think that’s it, darling?" his voice sounded scary calm and low. "you really think we're gonna let you come just once?"

your eyes widened. you tried to say something, but only a weak, ragged exhale escaped your throat. "what're you..."

hiromi slowly pulled away and got up from his knees. his lips glistened wetly, and there was a streak of your juices on his chin that he didn't even think about wipin' off. he looked down at you, fixing his shirt cuffs.

"that was just the start," he tossed out, and his voice vibrated in the tight cabin. you were still hangin' in nanami’s arms, legs shaking, and your mind was fading. "n-no... wait..." you tried to pull your thoughts together, "someone could walk in right now... the dispatcher... he might hear through the intercom..."

nanami just laughed low against your neck, and that sound made you shrink. he didn't let you go. instead, he shifted his grip to get comfortable and started to slowly, intentionally rub your aching, oversensitive cunt against his huge, rock-hard cock through the fabric of his pants.

"ah!" you sobbed, whimpering from the unbearable pleasure that bordered on torture. "nanami..." "we could just call the dispatcher again so help comes right now," kento whispered, keepin' up the methodical grind against you, squeezin' out new portions of wetness that now fell in heavy drops and dripped onto the elevator floor. your heels had been lyin' in the corner for a while now. "is that what you want? you want us to get pulled out of here right now?"

he didn't stop, and you felt his hardness throb, promisin' somethin' way bigger. at that moment, hiromi stepped in close. he cupped your face in his palms and sank into your lips with a deep, greedy kiss. you tasted yourself mixed with his hot spit — intimate, and crazy turning you on.

"m-m-m," he hummed into your mouth, pulling back only a millimeter. "is this what you want?" you should've said "yes." you should've screamed 'bout how they broke all the rules, how hierarchy was trashed, and how you're all gonna get fired in disgrace. you should've stopped this.

but you didn't. your first orgasm was so mind-blowing that all you could think about was the throbbing weight you felt with your ass through nanami’s clothes. you couldn't even dream of just one of them in your wildest fantasies, but getting both at once? that was the kind of extreme greed they write about in books.

“n-no…” you aggressively shook your head, completely forgetting you were in the damn elevator of an office building. your hands dug into higuruma’s shoulders on their own, and you started desperately, almost insanely grinding against the man behind you in every way possible, begging for more with your body alone.

hiromi gave a faint, barely noticeable smile without taking his eyes off you, watching the way you writhed in kento’s hands. “that’s what we thought. dirty girl… you spent months tempting your bosses just so they’d fuck you at the same time?”

you barely heard him. his words drowned in the rush of blood pounding in your ears, and you only nodded quickly, feverishly, agreeing with every word he said. “c’mon, baby,” nanami caught you with one hand, giving you more space, “use your hands. take my pants off.”

with trembling fingers, you reached behind you as much as the cramped space allowed and touched his cock through the fabric for the first time. nanami let out a low, rough groan and pushed himself into your palm, rolling his hips forward. you tried to feel more of him, but kento only tightened his grip on your waist.

“baby, i just had to sit there without getting to taste you. you’d better hurry up.” you frantically searched for his belt buckle, but your fingers wouldn’t cooperate. you couldn’t see what you were doing behind your back, and helpless little whines started slipping out of you.

“i-i can’t do it… kento, i can’t…” you sobbed, tears blurring your vision. nanami laughed quietly, enjoying your desperation. “what an impatient girl, huh?”

he jerked his hips sharply to help you, and finally you managed to undo the belt. then the button and zipper gave in too. his pants slipped down, and immediately, without waiting, you covered his cock with your hand over his boxers. nanami threw his head back, sucking in air through his teeth with a hiss. you moaned too — just the thought of him being inside you turned you into a melted, shapeless mess.

by then, hiromi already pulled his pants down slightly. you froze as you looked at him. his cock looked intimidating: long, heavy, veins standing out clearly along it, the tip already wet. exactly the one you imagined whenever you touched yourself.

you breathed heavily, your pussy still pulsing after your orgasm while your hands already pulled down the blond man’s boxers behind you. the second his cock came free, it pressed against your ass with a dull thud. you felt the heat of it against your skin.

nanami wrapped a hand around himself and slowly dragged the tip over your untouched back hole first. panic shot through you instantly, your voice turning high and almost frightened. “kento!.. please, kento…”

he immediately buried himself against your neck, kissing you greedily with his mouth open, leaving your skin wet and burning. “relax,” he whispered, his voice vibrating through your body. “we’re not going there… for now.”

you relaxed a little, but the realization crashed over you in another wave: that meant they were both going to fuck you. at the same time.

your thoughts didn’t even have time to form into words before higuruma stepped closer. he cupped your face, gently but firmly sucking on your lower lip before pulling away and looking directly into your eyes.

“if it hurts, just tell us, okay?” his voice sounded serious, almost gentle. “we won’t do anything that’ll hurt you. we’re here to give you what you’ve been begging for all this time. tell me you understand.”

you only nodded shakily, unable to force out a single word. “use your words, sweetheart,” nanami insisted, pressing his cock against your lower back. you swallowed hard, your voice rough from all the screaming and moaning. “i… i understand. yeah. please…”

nanami adjusted his grip on you more comfortably, one arm still holding your weight while the other slowly, carefully guided his cock. at first, he only teased you with it, dragging the tip through your folds, coating himself in all your slickness, practically soaking himself in your juices before finally giving one decisive thrust.

he pushed in slowly, giving you time to feel every inch of his impossible thickness. you cried out instantly and grabbed onto higuruma’s shoulders with a death grip. meanwhile, hiromi pressed himself flush against you, holding your hips steady and helping you keep your balance while his eyes tracked every shaky breath you took.

he really was huge. you felt him literally forcing your insides apart, pushing so deep that every experience you’d ever had before suddenly felt like some pathetic joke. your head fell back, your moans breaking apart into weak little whines.

“mmmngh! kento… haa-ah… hurts… no, feels good… god—!” you choked on the words as he filled you completely. “that’s it, sweetheart, take all of me,” nanami rasped, his voice vibrating through your body.

“you’re too big… kento, you’re too big…” “i know, baby,” he started moving inside you slowly, deeply, “it’ll feel better soon. just relax for me.”

while that happened, higuruma kissed his way down your neck to your chest, which already spilled out of your bra cups. he wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking greedily while nanami kept thrusting into you from behind.

“fuck…” kento growled, picking up the pace. “knew you’d have a fucking heavenly pussy… she’s squeezing me so tight.” all you could do was whine and sob. “ah! mmngh!! feels so good… more… haaah!”

“yeah?” higuruma pulled away from your chest, his gaze turning sharp and hungry. “it’s about to feel even better.” nanami cupped your face with both hands, turned you toward him, and crashed his mouth against yours in a deep kiss. “take a breath,” he ordered right against your lips.

you were already completely fucked stupid from his cock and the heat of their bodies. the second you gasped for air, you felt another huge, hard shape starting to push into you. hiromi entered you from the front, and you practically whimpered into nanami’s kiss while your fingers dug into higuruma’s shirt hard enough to make the fabric strain.

the moment he fully pushed inside, stretching you beyond anything imaginable, you screamed so loudly it felt like your voice tore through the entire building. “oh god! god! fuck… fuck! a-ah-ahh!”

tears spilled from your eyes automatically from the shock and overwhelming fullness. nanami laughed low against your lips, licking away the salty wetness. “no god here, sweetheart. we’re the ones making you scream like that.”

both of them stayed still for a moment, letting your body adjust to the unbearable stretch. hiromi’s hand squeezed your breast possessively while nanami bit at your shoulder and every patch of exposed skin he could reach.

it felt like forever or maybe only a few seconds — you had no idea anymore. the only thing you knew was that you needed them. “more… want more… please…”

“our girl’s getting greedy, huh?” higuruma smirked while looking at your flushed face. “one cock isn’t enough anymore? now you always want two?” then they started moving. together. hard. rhythmic.

it felt like your pussy was about to split apart, your whole body turning into one shaking, dripping mess. you moaned and whimpered while they kept taking turns kissing you, your chin already soaked with spit, your face damp with sweat and their touches. saliva and slick ran down your neck and chest, and you were pretty sure there was already a puddle forming on the elevator floor beneath you.

their movements turned sharp and perfectly synchronized, and you felt them practically pounding you into the narrow space between them. nanami set a deep, animalistic pace from behind while hiromi matched every thrust from the front, forcing your body to stretch to its absolute limit. the cramped elevator filled with unbearable wet sounds: skin slapping against skin, heavy male growls, and your endless, choking moans mixed with the smell of all your arousal.

“ah! haaah… nngh! fuck, kento… romi… a-ahh!” you cried out when they bumped against each other inside you, trapping your womb between them.

“look at this fucking mess,” hiromi rasped without taking his eyes off the place where your bodies merged together. “you’re sucking us in so greedily. such a needy little hole for your bosses.”

nanami grabbed your hair, pulling your head back slightly so he could see your face twisted with pleasure. “hear those sounds, baby?” he slammed into you hard, and the elevator filled with a loud, filthy squelch. “that’s all you. you’re so fucking wet we’re practically drowning in you.”

“mmmngh! yes… more… ” you couldn’t even control the saliva dripping down your chin anymore, mixing with their sweat. your face stayed damp, your hair stuck to your forehead, and your eyes rolled back.

higuruma leaned forward and crashed his mouth against yours, swallowing your moan with his lips. his tongue moved just as aggressively as his cock while his hand kept squeezing your breast hard enough to hurt. when he finally pulled away, a thin string of saliva stretched between you before breaking against your neck.

hiromi tightened his grip on your thighs even more, lifting your hips so you stayed completely open for both of them. the elevator smelled heavy with sweat, bodies, and slick, and the only thing breaking the silence were the filthy sounds of their bodies slamming against your ass.

nanami slowly moved his hand down the front of your body. his fingers, soaked with your slick, found your clit. “look at this little thing,” he rasped, his voice vibrating through your spine. “look how swollen it is. you’re pulsing so much, sweetheart.”

he started playing with you, and the elevator filled with another wet, messy sound from his fingers moving against you. every touch sent a shock through your body.

“mmmngh! kento… ah!” you sobbed shakily as your thighs started trembling uncontrollably. “please… i wanna come… i’m gonna… mmhnm!!" “no,” he cut you off. he gave one deep, crushing thrust. “don’t even think about coming without permission.”

their pace grew even faster, turning into something raw and primal. nanami’s heavy thrusts from behind crashed against hiromi’s from the front. the mirror in the elevator completely fogged over now, thick drops of condensation sliding down it just like the sweat running along your back. you could barely breathe anymore, your moans dissolving into broken little whimpers.

“tell me,” nanami suddenly pinched your clit hard between his fingers, making your back arch violently as you screamed. “who does this sweet, greedy pussy belong to?”

“a-ahh! yours! only yours! always only yours!” you practically sobbed the words out, losing the last of your sanity from the overwhelming pleasure. “good girl,” hiromi whispered smoothly against your damp shoulder before kissing it. “such a good girl. keep taking us, baby.”

your pussy pulsed violently, burning from the friction and impossible fullness. every thrust from nanami and hiromi forced more slick out of you, thick drops falling onto the floor and adding to the puddle already spreading beneath your feet. you felt completely used, ruined, and unbelievably happy in exactly that role.

the tension inside you coiled into a tight, unbearable knot that was about to snap. from behind, nanami made one last, crushing thrust, driving into you to the very hilt with a loud, wet sound, while hiromi made a powerful lunge forward at the same time, pinning your uterus in a vise between the two of them.

at that moment, nanami pressed hard against your pulsing clit, and that was the final straw. you literally buckled in their arms. the elevator walls started to swim before your eyes, and a series of choking, ragged sobs ripped from your throat.

"mmmngh-a-a-a! god! god! i— aah!" you gasped, feeling the first wave of orgasm paralyze your legs. your pussy started to contract convulsively and rhythmically around them, trying to squeeze every last drop out. you felt every vein on their members, every movement that now felt a hundred times sharper. a frantic, wet squelching filled the tight cabin — it was your juices, forced out by their pressure, literally splashing onto the floor and mixing with sweat.

you felt everything inside flip. your stomach muscles cramped, you threw your head back aggressively, pressing the back of your skull into nanami’s shoulder, and you just stopped breathing for several long seconds. you were shaking so hard that hiromi had to grip your thighs in a death lock to keep you from sliding to the floor.

"yes, just like that," nanami growled, feeling your pussy literally suck him in. "cum on our cocks, our pretty girl." you could not answer. you only whimpered and shuddered in a long, agonizingly beautiful ecstasy. tears of happiness and shock rolled down your wet cheeks.

you were still shaking from the lingering waves when you felt the blonde’s breath grow heavy, turning into a muffled growl. "fuck, you are so tight...so perfect baby..." he rasped, driving into you one last time with such force that you felt his pulse at your very center.

hiromi, feeling your tremors and kento’s frantic rhythm, also stopped holding back. his movements became sharp, almost rough; he literally slammed you into nanami, wringing the last moans out of you.

for a moment, everything froze. you felt nanami shudder through his whole body, his fingers digging into your thighs until it hurt, and he poured into you in a hot, pulsing stream. almost at the same time, hiromi let out a low, guttural sound and also went still, pressing his forehead against your shoulder, giving all his tension to you.

"so good mmm..." you went totally limp in their arms, feeling the scalding heat of their seed spread inside you. a sharp, mechanical sound and a sudden jolt of the elevator under your feet made you all freeze.

"hello, elevator number four? we have recorded a stop; we are restarting the system now. is everything alright with you?"

He was all broad shoulders and thick muscle. Thirty eight and built like someone who hauled heavy shit for a living. His dark hair was messy and that perpetual smirk tugged at his mouth.

Behind him half hidden by his bulky frame, stood your floor neighbor Satoru Gojo. Twenty three and awkward in the best way. He was a slimmer guy. Pale hair falling onto his face. Those big round glasses perched on his nose like he had just stepped out of a lab. You'd seen him in a white coat a couple times. Always quiet, and always keeping to himself.

Toji didn't wait for an invitation to come in,“Heard your heater’s been giving you grief,” he rumbled, voice low and rough. “Figured I’d swing by. Brought the kid for extra hands. Come on, Gojo, don’t you wanna see the inside of a woman’s room for once?” He clapped a heavy hand on Satoru’s shoulder and pushed the younger man forward. Satoru’s cheeks went pink under the glasses. But he mumbled something about being able to read the manual and followed anyway.

You stepped aside and your heart kicked up a little at the sudden presence of two men in your cramped space. Toji moved like he owned the place. His toolbox already open on the floor by the heater unit.

Satoru hovered at first, then he pulled the faded instruction booklet from his back pocket, and flipped through the pages with long fingers. “It says the thermostat connection needs reseating first,” he said softly, voice steady despite the blush. “Then the filter—here, let me show you.”

Toji grunted and got to work. His big hands did the heavy lifting while Satoru directed every step. He pointed out screws and wires with that quiet scientific focus and you watched from the couch, your arms wrapped around yourself.

The room slowly filled with the low scrapes of tools and the first real warmth in days. It didn't take long, twenty minutes later the heater kicked on full blast and it pushed steady heat through the vents.

You exhaled and relief loosened something tight in your chest. “Thank you, seriously. I… I’m kind of short on money right now, though. Payday’s not for another week and groceries are—”

Toji straightened up then and he wiped his hands on his jeans. That sly grin spread slow across his face, then he towered over you. His eyes dragged down your body like he was sizing up exactly what kind of payment he wanted. “I don’t usually do work for nothing, sweetheart.”

The air shifted.. thickened with the unsurity of what he was asking or more so telling. You felt it in the way your pulse jumped, in the way Satoru’s eyes widened behind his glasses as Toji stepped closer. Toji’s hand came up to your face and his calloused thumb brushed your jaw, he tilted your face up to his.

Before you could say another word his mouth was on yours, hot and demanding. His tongue slid in deep and sloppy like he had been thinking about this the whole time he fixed your heater. You gasped into the kiss, the taste of him, salt and something darker, flooded your senses.

Your body responded before your brain caught up. You were tired, you were stressed. You were definitely aching for something that was not bills or cold air and Toji felt like the kind of trouble that could make you forget all of it.

He walked you backwards until your thighs hit the edge of the dining table, and the papers scattered under you as he lifted you just enough to plant your ass on the wood. Bills crinkling beneath your skirt, and his hands were everywhere at once, those rough palms shoved your top up and freed your tits with a low groan that vibrated against your skin.

They were big and pretty, heavy in his grip, Toji not wasting any more time, latched his mouth onto one nipple and he sucked hard, teeth grazing just enough to make your back arch. Wet open mouthed kisses trailed from your tits to your neck, marking your soft skin, while his other hand shoved your skirt up around your waist. His fingers hooking into your panties and he yanked them down in one rough tug.

Your pretty slick cunt was bare now, glistening under the cheap overhead light. Satoru was staring, completely frozen. His lips parted and the front of his pants already tenting, it was embarrassingly obvious.

Toji pulled back from your neck just long enough to laugh, a little low and mean at Satoru. “Look at that, geek's never seen a pussy this close up before, huh? Come on, don’t be shy nerd, get a taste of her cunt.”

Satoru’s breath hitched audibly and his glasses fogged a little at the edges, he stood there looking so inexperienced, so shocked. But his feet moved anyway, right in front of you and dropped to his knees between your spread thighs like he couldn’t stop himself.

Toji kept you pinned with his body. One hand still kneading your tit and his mouth was back on your neck sucking fresh marks while he watched the younger man fumble forward.

Satoru’s first lick was beyond messy, but his eager tongue dragged flat and sloppy from your entrance up to your clit. No rhythm, just pure desperate hunger, his spit mixed with your slick almost instantly, dripping down your folds as he licked again, harder this time, like he was trying to devour you whole. Sucking your clit into his mouth with a wet noisy sound, hollowing his cheeks and his tongue swirled clumsily and overeager.

No finesse, just sloppy enthusiasm that had your hips canting forward into his mouth and his hands gripped your thighs too tightly, fingertips digging into your skin while he buried his face deeper.

His slender nose bumped your mound and his glasses pressed cooly against your skin. Every suck was loud and vibrant, spit ran down his chin as he lapped and slurped like a man who had been starving for this exact taste.

Toji chuckled against your throat. The sound dark and teasing. “That’s it, kid. Suck at er' pretty clit, make 'er feel how bad you want it. Bet you’ve jerked off thinking about something half this good.” Then he pinched your nipple and rolled it between rough fingers while Satoru moaned into your cunt as you squirmed.

The vibration shot straight through you, Satoru’s tongue flicked faster, messier. He sucked your clit with wet pops that echoed in the small room, again he was so fucking eager and witching between long sloppy drags and sudden hard sucks that left your thighs shaking. Spit and slick coated his lips, his chin, even the tip of his nose. But he didn't care, he just kept going. Face pressed in like he never wanted to come up for air.

You were moaning now, your head tipped back and one hand tangled in Satoru’s white hair while Toji kept kissing you deep and filthy. His free hand held your hip down so you couldn't buck away from the overwhelming mess of Satoru’s mouth.

Toji’s voice stayed right there, low and mean in your ear between kisses. “Look at him go, doll. Such a sloppy little nerd, eating your cunt like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. Bet he’s never made a girl cum before—gonna have to teach him, huh?” He sucked another bruise into your neck, then his tongue flicked over the mark while Satoru’s mouth stayed locked on your clit.

He sucked harder, his tongue swirling over it in frantic circles. The heat from the radiator wrapped around the three of you thicker now. It turned your small apartment into something heavy and hazy while your body stayed sprawled across the dining table.

Bills still crumpled under your ass, all the while Toji kept one hand kneading your tit. He pinched your nipple just hard enough to make you whimper into his mouth. But his other hand had already slid down between your thighs. His thick fingers found your fat pretty clit right away and he began rubbing slow mean circles that made your hips jerk, he wasn't gonna let up, not now when he just started his torment.

He pressed firm and teasingly, dragging the pad of his thumb over that swollen little bud again and again until slick sounds filled the room louder than your moans. Every pass was deliberate and mean, like he knew exactly how close he was pushing you and enjoyed holding you right there on edge.

Satoru stayed on his knees between your spread legs. His face still buried deep in your cunt like he had forgotten anything else existed, his tongue kept working in those sloppy eager strokes, sucking at your clit with wet noisy pops while Toji’s fingers teased right above his mouth. But then Satoru shifted, his hands slid up the backs of your thighs and he spread you wider.

His tongue dragging lower, tasting further down until he found your ass. The first wet swipe across your tight hole made your eyes fly open in surprise, he was so inexperienced yet so hungry for more. He licked messy and curiously tongue circling your rim before pressing in just a little, his spit mixing with everything already dripping down from your pussy.

You gasped at the new feeling, shock being the main thing sparking through you, and he wasn't gonna stop. He moaned softly into your skin like discovering this part of you had flipped some switch in him. His glasses were completely fogged now. His cheeks flushed dark as he kept eating both your cunt and your ass in turns. Messily and relentless.

Toji pulled his mouth off your neck with a low chuckle. His eyes dark as he watched Satoru’s head move between your legs. “Look at the nerd go. Found himself a new toy back there, huh?” His voice dropped lower, rougher. As he freed his cock from his jeans.

It sprang out thick and heavy, already dripping precum from the flushed tip. Veins standing out along his length. He stroked himself once, slow and then he grabbed your chin with his free hand. “Come on, ma. You’re gonna be good and use that mouth right for me.”

He guided you easily, and helped you twist and shift until you were on your knees right there on the table. Your ass still pushed out toward Satoru. The younger man never stopped, just spread your legs wider with both hands, while you were in this new position.

His thumbs pulled your pussy lips apart so he could bury his face even deeper, and his tongue fucked sloppy and eager into your cunt while his nose pressed against your ass. You could feel every wet drag, every desperate suck. His spit ran down your thighs as he moaned like tasting you was the only thing keeping him alive.

Toji stood in front of you now, tall and broad. His fat cock right at your eye level. The tip glistening as a thick bead of precum slid down the head of it. You leaned in without thinking, tongue flicking out to lick it clean, the taste was salty and warm, and he groaned deep in his chest. One big hand tangled in your hair then,“That’s it, sweetheart. Lick the tip just like that- haah good girl.”

He let you explore, he let you wrap your lips around the head and suck softly while your hand came up to stroke his thick shaft. Your other hand found his heavy balls and you rolled them gently. You felt how full they were as you took more of him into your mouth.

Toji’s praise rolled out steady and low, the same way he'd been talking to Satoru earlier. “Fuck, your mouth feels s'good. Look at you taking me so pretty while that nerd keeps eating your pussy from behind- ngh bet he’s telling you how good you taste, huh? All sloppy and eager like he can’t get enough.”

Satoru made a muffled sound of agreement right up against your pussy. His tongue still swirled messily over your clit and dipped to your ass. He never slowed down, his hands kept spreading you open, thumbs holding your folds apart so nothing was hidden from him and Toji rocked his hips forward gently.

He fed you more of his cock, voice thick with that mean teasing, “Keep sucking, ma, mhmph play with my balls just like that, h-haah you’re doing s'good for us. Gonna make sure that pretty pussy stays nice and wet for the kid while I fuck your throat, ngh that's it- a little deeper, doll.” Toji's fingers stayed in your hair, guiding but not forcful, letting you bob along the length of him at your own pace while your tongue worked the underside and your hand kept massaging his balls.

The table creaked under your knees as you stayed right there on all fours. Your mouth full of Toji’s thick cock while the heat in the room pressed down on every inch of your skin. You'd been sucking him eagerly, tongue swirling around the heavy head as you stroked the veined shaft with one hand while the other rolled his full balls nice and slow, but Toji was done letting you set the pace.

His big hand tightened in your hair and he guided you deeper until the swollen tip nudged the back of your throat. “That’s it, ma,” he growled low and rough. His hips rocking forward to push past the tight ring of muscle. “Open up f'me, m'gonna fuck your soft warm throat til' it milks me dry.” He slid in deeper on the next thrust, your mouth stretching wide around his girth. The salty taste of him flooded your tongue instantly as he started a steady rhythm that had your eyes watering and your throat fluttering around every inch.

Satoru was still behind you on his knees. His face buried between your spread cheeks. His tongue worked sloppy and desperate over your cunt and ass like he couldn’t get enough of the way you tasted. But then one of his long fingers wormed its way into your tight pussy. It slid in slow and curious until it was buried to the knuckle.

The sudden stretch made you moan loud around Toji’s cock. The vibration pulled a deep groan from the older man’s chest. Satoru’s breath hitched hard against your wet folds.

You were so fucking tight around just that single finger, clenching hot and slick and when he tugged it out a little only to push back in you gave a needy little wiggle of your hips and pushed back onto him like your body was begging for more. “Oh… fuck,” Satoru whispered, voice cracking with shock and want. His glasses still fogged and sliding down his nose. “She… she wants it. She really wants it.”

He pulled his face back from your cunt with a wet sound, lips shiny and chin dripping. He stood up on shaky legs and his hands fumbled at his pants, shoving them down just enough to free his cock. It sprang out hard and achingly, long and pretty with a slight upward curve, his pale skin flushed a deep pink at the tip.

Thick veins ran along the underside, he was leaking so much precum that it already coated the entire head and dripped in sticky strands down the shaft, making it glisten under the cheap apartment light.

This was his first time about to fuck a real pussy, the sight of how turned on he was made your own cunt clench around nothing. He looked almost painfully hard, the head of his cock all swollen and shiny, more and more precum beading at the slit as he stroked himself once with a trembling hand, eyes wide behind those big glasses as he stared at your dripping folds.

You didn’t wait, still sucking Toji’s cock deep into your throat with every thrust he gave you, made you spread your legs wider right there on the table. Your knees slid apart on the scattered bills until your pretty cunt was completely bared and open for Satoru.

The cool air hit your slick skin and you pushed your ass back toward him. Silently begging while Toji kept fucking your eager throat in long wet strokes that made obscene gagging sounds fill the room. “Look at her,” Toji laughed darkly. His voice rough from how good your mouth felt.

“Spreading that cunt so nice for the nerd while I use 'er throat. Gonna let me cum down y'er throat soon, ma? Or you saving that pretty pussy for the kid to wreck first?” He thrusted deeper, and held your head steady so every inch of his thick cock slid in and out of the tight heat of your throat. His balls brushing your chin as he chased the tight warmth of your mouth.

Satoru stepped closer. His cock throbbing in his fist, the tip already smearing more precum against the back of your thighs as his free hand gripped your hip. His fingers dug in like he was afraid this whole thing would disappear if he let you go.

He was breathing hard, inexperienced and overwhelmed, but the way your pussy glistened and winked at him had him lining up without another word. The leaking head of his cock nudged right against your entrance while Toji’s steadily fucked your throat, keeping your moans muffled and vibrating around his shaft. The apartment felt smaller and hotter now.

Every sound wet and filthy as the two of them claimed their repayment, your body caught perfectly between Toji’s rough thrusts down your throat and Satoru’s eager virgin cock ready to sink into your tight cunt for the very first time.

You stayed perfectly arched on your knees atop the dining table. Bills still scattered and forgotten beneath you. Your mouth stretched wide around Toji’s thick cock while your body trembled between the two men. Satoru’s leaking tip nudged right against your slick entrance, hot and insistent.

The sheer amount of precum he was dripping made everything slippery and messy, he paused for one shaky breath and his glasses fogged completely, pale hair sticking to his forehead and then he finally pushed forward.

His pretty fat tip breached you slow and steady, stretching your tight cunt open around that swollen head. The first inch sank in with a wet obscene sound, your walls fluttered and gripped him like they had been waiting for exactly this.

Satoru moaned shamelessly, loud and broken and completely unfiltered, a sound cracked high in his throat as his hips jerked forward another inch on instinct. “Oh god… fuck… she’s so tight,” he gasped, his voice raw and trembling. His hands clutching on your hips hard enough to leave marks. Not stopping he slid deeper in one long push until half his pretty cock was buried inside you.

The upward curve of him dragging perfectly against your walls, making your eyes roll back, more precum leaked steadily from his tip, mixing with your slick and dripping down your thighs in warm rivulets while he stayed there for a second, just feeling you clench around him like heaven.

Toji felt every single one of your moans vibrate down his shaft as Satoru filled your cunt, slowing his pace in your throat deliberately, then he pulled back until only the fat cockhead rested heavy on your tongue and then he slid back in deep and lazy so he could savor it.

Your tight throat walls squeezed and sucked around him with every whimper you gave, it milked his length like your body couldn't help itself. “That’s it, ma,” he rumbled low and rough, his voice thick with pleasure as he rocked into your mouth in long unhurried strokes.

“Feel that? Y'er throat’s squeezing me so fucking good while the kid stretches that pretty pussy, mhph- keep sucking..j-just like that,” as he kept leaking steady beads of precum right down your throat, spilling salty and warm and he groaned deeper every time your tongue pressed up against the underside, every time your throat fluttered and tightened around his thick girth.

Satoru started moving then shallow and eager, pulling out just enough for his glistening cock to catch the light before sliding back in deeper, chasing that tight heat with every inexperienced thrust. His moans kept coming shamless and loud, spilling out of him like he had zero control left. “She feels… so good… so wet… I can feel her squeezing me,” he babbled between gasps, hips snapping forward a little harder now.

The wet slap of skin on skin started to fill the room as he fucked into your cunt from behind. His balls swung heavy with every push. Already drawn up tight from how overwhelming it all was, his first time buried inside a real pussy made his whole body shake.

Toji kept that slow deliberate rhythm in your throat, he let you breathe between strokes but never pulled out completely, his big hand stroking your hair almost gently while his cock throbbed against your tongue. “Look at you taking us both so well,” he praised, dark mossy eyes watching the way your body rocked between them. “Aren't you just the prettiest, doll." He said as his gaze went from your lips, to Satoru's, the pleasure-pain showing clear on his face. "Bet he’s never felt anything so tight and hot before.”

Toji pushed in a little deeper on the next thrust and held himself there so your throat could squeeze and flutter around every thick inch. Precum continued to leak steadily as your eager sucking pulled more from him.

Your body burned between them, stretched, filled and worshipped in the filthiest way. Satoru’s shameless moans mixed with the wet sounds of his cock plunging into your dripping cunt while Toji used your throat like it was made for him.

The heater hummed in the background. The apartment warmer than it had ever been. The only thing left was the steady push and pull of their bodies claiming every part of you. They turned your desperate little repayment into something neither of them planned to stop anytime soon.

Toji gripped your face with both big hands now. His thumbs stroked your flushed cheeks almost tenderly as he tilted your head just enough to lock eyes with you, dark gaze burning into yours, watching every inch of his cock disappear between your stretched lips. He watched the way your throat bulged around him with each push. “That’s my good girl,” he growled low, voice rough and ragged. “Look at me while I fuck y'er throat, m'gonna cum so deep you’ll feel it for days, doll.”

Behind you Satoru’s hips snapped forward harder. His pretty cock plunged into your cunt with frantic eager thrusts that had his balls slapping wetly against your clit, gripping your waist tight with both hands, fingers digging into the soft flesh like he needed the anchor to keep from falling apart.

His shameless moans spilled out nonstop as he fucked you deeper. “She’s… she’s still haah- tight, sso fucking tight,” he panted. His glasses slipped down his nose, pale hair damp against his forehead, first time buried in a real pussy had him losing control fast, your tight heat kept milking every inch, while his leaking tip dragged against your walls.

Toji’s eyes stayed locked on yours, cock throbbing heavier on your tongue as he felt your throat flutter and suck around him. “Kid,” he rasped without breaking eye contact with you. “Touch 'er clit. Rub it nice'n slow for her. Make 'er cum on your cock while I fill 'er pretty throat.”

Satoru’s hand slid down instantly. His shaky fingers found your swollen little clit and rubbed messy eager circles just like Toji had done earlier, the sudden pressure made your whole body jolt, your cunt clenching harder around his thrusting cock, walls pulsing and gripping him so tight he was gasping loud and broken.

His hips stuttering as he drove in deeper, one extra squeeze was all it took and pleasure slammed through you like a wave, your orgasm crashed hard and fast, thighs shaking violently as you came with a muffled cry around Toji’s cock. Your pussy fluttered and gushed around Satorus length, slick dripping down his shaft and balls while your throat tightened even more, squeezing and milking Toji’s thick cock in rhythmic pulses.

Toji groaned deep, his eyes never leaving yours as he thrust once, twice, and then he buried himself to the hilt and came, hard. Hot thick ropes of cum flooded deep down your throat, pulse after pulse shot straight into you while he held your face steady and watched you swallow every drop with those wide teary eyes.

“Fuck…that's it. Take it all, ma,” he snarled. His voice cracking as he emptied himself completely, his cum leaking from the corners of your mouth when he finally pulled back just enough for you to breathe.

At the exact same moment your clenching cunt pushed Satoru over the edge and he moaned shamelessly loud and gripped your waist harder as he slammed in one final time and came hard inside your pussy.

Thick spurts of warm cum flooded your walls, filling you up so full it started leaking out around his cock with every shallow twitch of his hips, his body shuddering against your ass while he pumped rope after rope into you, utterly lost in the feeling of his first pussy creaming and milking him dry.

Both of them held you right there between them. Toji’s hands still cradled your face as the last of his cum slid down your throat. Satoru’s fingers still lazily circled your oversensitive clit while his cock stayed buried deep.

It pulsed and leaked inside your cum filled cunt. The table creaking under all three of you, the only thing left was their heavy breathing and the wet drip of their release and the slow filthy promise that this repayment was far from over.

Toji’s thick cock finally slipped from your mouth with a wet pop, a thick string of spit and cum stretched between your swollen lips and the flushed head before it broke, you gasped for air, throat raw and fluttering. Drool and his release shone all over your chin and dripped down onto your tits, he didnt pull away then.

Instead he leaned down, his big hands still cradled your face and he dragged his tongue slow and filthy across your chin, licking up every messy drop of his own cum mixed with your spit, the taste of it on his tongue made him groan low and satisfied before he sealed his mouth over yours in a deep claiming kiss, tongue pushing inside your mouth as he fed the salty warmth back to you like he refused to let a single drop go to waste.

“Don’t waste it, ma,” he murmured against your lips between kisses, voice rough and dark. “Swallow what I gave you. Good girl… every fuckin drop.”

Behind you Satoru’s grip on your waist finally loosened. His fingers trembled as he let go. Faint red marks blooming where he held you so tightly. Your skin already showing the shape of his desperate hands, he was so fucking sensitive, cock still twitching hard even after he had pumped you full.

Every tiny shift of your body made him hiss through his teet, pulling out slowly, inch by inch. The wet drag of his pretty cock left your stretched cunt with a lewd sticky sound and the moment he was free the sight hit him like a punch, thick white cum immediately started dripping from your puffy folds. It slid down your thighs in slow obscene trails, mixing with your own slick and shone under the apartment light. It broke him completely.

“Oh fuck… look at that,” Satoru breathed, voice cracking with raw need and he dropped back to his knees right there on the floor. His hands spread your ass and thighs wide again so nothing was hidden. Without another second of hesitation he buried his face between your legs and started eating his own cum out of your cunt like a man starved, his tongue messy and eager all over again.

He lapped long and sloppy from your entrance up to your clit. He sucked the warm load right out of you with wet filthy noises that echoed in the small room. He moaned shamelessly into your pussy and swallowed every thick spurt he could pull from your fluttering walls, tongue fucking in deep to chase more while his nose pressed against your ass.

Spit and cum coated his chin. His glasses. Even the tip of his nose. But he didn't care, he just kept devouring you sucking and licking with frantic hunger, like tasting himself mixed with your slick was the hottest thing he had ever experienced.

You trembled on the table. Still caught between Toji’s deep kisses and Satoru’s relentless mouth. The older man’s tongue slid against yours while the younger one cleaned every drop of his release from your dripping cunt. Satoru’s hands stayed locked on your thighs, he spread you wider so he could lap even deeper. His tongue curling inside you to scoop out the last creamy strands until your pussy was glistening only with his spit and your own wetness.

When he finally pulled back, his lips were shiny and swollen, chest heaving and he looked up at you with those wide fogged over eyes like he was drunk on it.

Cum and spit still clinging to his chin, then on shaky legs, his cock still half hard and twitching again already, Satoru leaned in close and he cupped your face gently this time, with his hands, the opposite of how hard he had gripped your hips, and he pressed his mouth to yours in an needy open mouthed kiss.

You tasted yourself on his tongue, you tasted his own cum mixed with everything else and Satoru whimpered into the kiss like he couldn’t get enough of sharing it with you.

Toji watched the whole thing with a low satisfied chuckle. One hand still stroking your hair, Satoru’s kiss stayed hungry and sweet against your mouth, his tongue sliding slow against yours like he was still chasing the taste of his own cum mixed with your slick and Toji leaned in from the other side and claimed your lips the second Satoru pulled back just enough to breathe.

Their mouths moved over yours in turns, deep and lazy. Tongues tangling. They shared the filthy mess they made of you until your head spun and your body felt boneless between them.

Toji finally eased you off the table with those big steady hands, lifting you like you weighed nothing and set you on your feet onto the floor. Your legs wobbled instantly, knees weak from everything they had done. But he kept one arm looped around your waist to hold you upright.

Satoru hovered close on your other side, his glasses still crooked and fogged, his cheeks flushed dark as he brushed damp strands of hair out of your face with shaky fingers.

The three of you stood there in the middle of your tiny living room, utterly spent and tired. Chests heaving, skin sticky and marked and glowing with sweat. The heater hummed on, filling the air with a warmth that made everything feel softer now, slower. Like the frantic heat of the moments earlier had burned itself down to glowing embers.

You swallowed, throat still raw and your voice a little hoarse, but you managed a small smile as you looked between them. “The showers just in there, and you both should clean up. I’ve got a decent one. Come on.”

They followed without a word. Toji’s hand never left your lower back and Satoru trailed right behind like he was afraid the moment would vanish if he stepped too far away.

The bathroom was cramped, barely enough room for all three of you. But none of you cared. Clothes came off in a slow exhausted strip. Your skirt and top already half gone from earlier, and finally took of your socks.

Toji’s jeans shoved down those thick thighs, of his. Satoru’s pants and shirt peeled away from his body, until all three of you stood bare under the cheap overhead light. Steam started rising the second you turned the water on, hot and steady the water fell and the small space filled with it quickly.

You stepped under the spray first and sighed as the heat hit your sore muscles. Toji and Satoru crowded in right after, their bodies pressing close to you in the tight stall until you were sandwiched between hard muscle and lean warmth.

Toji grabbed the shampoo bottle without asking, his big hands worked the lather into your hair with surprising gentleness, his thick fingers massaging your scalp in slow circles while warm water rinsed suds down your back. Satoru’s hands were everywhere else. Soapy palms slid over your shoulders. Your arms, your waist, then lower to cup your tits and wash away the marks his mouth had left earlier.

He leaned in and kissed your neck softly, then your shoulder and murmured against your skin, “Sorry… I got a little carried away. Didn’t mean to hold you so tight.” His voice was all shy again, That lab rat nervousness creeping back in now that the heat had cooled, but his lips kept pressing gentle little apologies all over your body. To your collarbone, the curve of your breast, even the faint bruises on your hips where his fingers had dug in.

Toji chuckled low and rinsed the last of the shampoo from your hair before tilting your chin up so the water could wash your face clean. “Kid’s right, we got rough. But you took it so fucking good, Doll.” And then he kissed you slow under the spray, tongue lazy and warm and then he turned you gently so Satoru could keep kissing down your spine while he soaped up your thighs and between your legs with careful strokes that made you shiver but never pushed.

They stayed bathing you like that for long minutes. Hands everywhere, their mouths following the water, until every trace of cum, sweat and spit was rinsed away and your skin felt soft and new again.

When the water finally shut off, the three of you stepped out dripping. Towels wrapping loosely around your waist's. Toji’s hanging low on his hips, showing the deep cut of muscle there. Satoru’s barely tied and slipping every time he moved.

They helped you dry off too, Toji rubbed your back with the towel while Satoru combed careful fingers through your damp hair, no rush, just quiet touches and soft breaths in the steamy bathroom.

They kept the towels on, you said you'd keep their clothes and wash it for them. They slipped out your door with soft promises muttered low. Toji’s smirk and a,“We’ll be right back.” Satoru gave a shy little wave, his cheeks flushed as he adjusted his glasses and stepped out after toji.

The apartment felt strangely empty once they were gone. But the warmth from the heater and the ache in your body kept you company while you pulled on soft lounge clothes and tried to straighten the dining table. Minutes passed and light settled in, quiet and dark outside your windows.

Then came a knock again, softer this time.

You opened the door to both of them. Freshly changed, Toji in a black hoodie and sweats that did nothing to hide how big he still looked and Satoru in an oversized t-shirt he had clearly thrown on over pajamas. His hair still a little messy from the shower. They both stepped inside without waiting, the air between you three easier now.

You padded to the kitchenette and made hot chocolate for all three of you. The cheap kind with little marshmallows that bobbed on top. Steam curling sweet and chocolatey when you carried the mugs back to the couch.

Toji was already sprawled on one end, a thick arm stretched along the backrest, Satoru sat on the other end. He patted the cushion between them with a shy little smile and you settled right there, tucked between them like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Toji pulled you against his chest with one arm. He let you rest your head on his broad shoulder while his free hand took the mug from you. Satoru curled into your other side. His long legs tangled with yours, his head rested on your opposite shoulder and a hand slid up to play gently with the ends of your hair.

The couch was small, but they made it work. Their bodies warm and solid on either side of you, the scent of clean skin and faint shampoo mixed with the rich chocolate, you sipped slow, and let heat spread through your chest.

Toji’s fingers traced lazy circles on your thigh under the blanket you had tossed over all three of you at some point and Satoru’s thumb brushed soft little patterns on the back of your hand. His voice quiet and sleepy when he finally spoke. “This… this is nice, better than being alone honestly.”

Toji laughed low, the sound rumbled through you. “Told you the kid needed to see the inside of a woman’s room. Looks like he’s not leaving anytime soon.” He then leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head and he tilted your chin up for another slow one to your lips. Chocolate sweet and unhurried. Satoru followed right after, kissing you just as gentle, tongue brushing yours like he was still tasting the afterglow.

The three of you stayed like that for the rest of the night, cuddled close on the couch. Mugs slowly emptying, bodies warm and tangled under the blanket while the heater kept the whole apartment cozy. No more cold air seeping in.

Just the low hum of quiet conversation, soft laugher and the steady press of two men who had come to fix one thing and ended up warming everything else.

Your tired body finally relaxed between them, the impending groceries and late notices forgotten for now, all wrapped up safe in the middle of something that felt like it could stretch on long past tonight.

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the dragon’s obsidian scales glinting along his shoulders and spine, wings half unfurled like a dark canopy overhead, but his lower body was all raw power.

your legs were folded up tight against your chest in a mean mating press, ankles nearly touching your ears, and sylus’s thick scaled tail was wrapped snug around one soft thigh to keep you spread wide open for him.

his clawed hands roamed lazily over your body, one palming your breast while the other pinned your wrists above your head, hips rolling slow and deep as he fucked into you with long, deliberate strokes that made wet sounds echo off the stone walls.

your head was tipped back, lips parted on a broken moan, cheeks flushed dark, and you looked anything but afraid.

sylus merely glanced over one broad shoulder at the intruder, crimson eyes glowing with lazy amusement, not a flicker of threat in them. he did not even stop thrusting, just smirked like xavier was a mildly interesting guest who had wandered in at the perfect moment.

xavier’s sword arm wavered.

the knight in him screamed to charge, to save you, but the man in him saw the way your fingers curled into the furs, the way your body arched up to meet every push of the dragon’s cock, the way your eyes found his across the room and softened with something that looked far too much like welcome.

sylus’s voice rolled out low and velvet dark, still buried to the hilt inside you.

“you came all this way for her, little knight,” he purred, tail tightening just enough to make you whimper, “but she does not seem to need rescuing anymore. unless of course you intend to join us.”

xavier’s breath caught.

he should have been furious.

he should have swung.

instead he found himself stepping closer, armor clanking as he let the sword drop, eyes locked on the place where sylus’s thick length disappeared into your slick heat over and over.

one thing led to another the way storms roll in without warning.

xavier shed his plates piece by piece until he stood bare and trembling with need, then crawled onto the furs.

you reached for him first, voice hoarse and sweet as you whispered his name like a prayer, pulling him down into a kiss that tasted of salt and surrender.

sylus watched with that same unhurried smirk, finally easing out of you with a wet glide that left you clenching around nothing, then rolled you gently onto your side between them.

xavier took your front without hesitation, sliding into you in one smooth thrust that punched the air from your lungs, his hands framing your face like you were still the fragile princess he had sworn to protect.

behind you sylus pressed close again, wings folding around all three of you like living shadow, the blunt head of his cock nudging at your already stretched entrance right alongside xavier’s.

you gasped at the stretch, body shaking as the dragon worked himself in inch by inch until you were impossibly full of both of them, walls fluttering helplessly around the twin pressures.

they moved together then, not rushed but deep and devastating, xavier’s hips snapping forward with all the pent up devotion of years spent loving you from afar, sylus rolling in from behind with the lazy power of a creature who had centuries to learn exactly how to ruin someone sweetly.

every thrust pushed you tighter between them, your moans swallowed by xavier’s mouth while sylus mouthed at your shoulder, fangs grazing without breaking skin.

you could feel them both so clearly, the drag and slide, the way they rubbed against each other inside you through that thin wall, the wet filthy sounds of three bodies chasing the same peak.

xavier groaned your name like it hurt, telling you between kisses that he had dreamed of this, of having you, of keeping you, even if it meant sharing with the beast who had stolen you first.

sylus only laughed low against your ear, claws dimpling your hip as he drove deeper, murmuring that the knight was prettier when he stopped pretending to be noble, that you belonged to both of them now and the kingdom could burn for all he cared.

your climax hit hard and sudden, vision whiting out as you clenched around them both, thighs trembling and tears slipping down your cheeks from the sheer overwhelming pleasure of being so completely claimed.

xavier followed right after, burying himself to the root with a broken sound and flooding you hot and deep.

sylus held out longer, savoring every pulse and flutter until he finally spilled too, wings flaring wide as he growled your name like a dragon’s hoard finally secured.

they stayed locked around you afterward, xavier’s forehead pressed to yours, sylus’s tail curling loosely around you, the three of you tangled and breathing hard in the quiet of the lair that no longer felt like a prison at all.

Stealing a glance over at him, you fight back the hint of a smile on your lips. In a room full of royals, some of whom are eager to dig up any dirt they can on other kingdoms, it’s dangerous to let your true expression out. Especially when the man you’re speaking to is heir to one of the most influential dynasties on the planet.

“You may not stay in corners, with how many princesses you’ve attracted recently.” Your sentence is punctuated with a sigh, remembering the recent news about the famed Crown Prince and how many princesses have spoken to their parents about his hand in marriage. It’s amusing, really, to know that they all want him when it’s your palace he travels to and your bed he lies in.

The thought of him being married off when he’s already where he wants to be, with you and Sylus, is more than just jealousy. It’s outrage. Everyone wants to control the lives of the heirs, using them as pawns when they have every right to choose for themselves.

“Don’t worry.” It’s like he can already sense your emotions, leaning a bit further into your side. “I’ve already told my father I won’t be dealing with any of those trivial matters.” His eyes trace your side profile, amused by the slight cinch between your eyebrows and the tight pull of your lips.

“It’s only a matter of time, though.” Another voice joins the fray, and you turn to find Sylus standing beside Xavier. “Talk gets around, and alliances must be made, Your Highness.” The low drawl of his voice sends a shiver through you, but you fight the urge to jump into his arms and kiss him senseless. This is a royal ballroom, and anything less than perfection will be scrutinized under a magnifying glass.

Both you and Xavier exchange a subtle look, and an understanding passes between you. It’s not every day you can see your other lover, since his duties at the top of the mountain are far vaster than his own small kingdom that he’s tricked others into believing he has.

He does have a castle, yes, but is it as vast as the kingdom that others see him ruling? No. It’s a beautiful place, and one that his trusted advisors—who are more or less his trusted apprentices—Luke and Kieran look over while Sylus is away guarding his hoard. After finding them wandering alone on the mountain, Sylus took them under his wing, giving them the palace to stay in and trusting them to run it smoothly. Though with how mischievous they are, it’s not always a walk in the park.

“Shouldn’t you be going to slay a dragon?” You tease, catching the glimmer in Sylus’ eye as he shrugs. Lately, more and more princes have been challenging the ‘mighty dragon up the mountain’, and with the influx of those venturing up to steal back the dragon’s hoard, Sylus has been more than busy.

“Ah, you’re right, princess.” The name, although correct, feels different coming from Sylus’ lips. It’s less of a title and more of a reverent calling amidst the arching violins in the background. “I suppose it’s my turn to climb that treacherous mountain.”

“I heard word of a certain Prince in the fire-lands who is preparing to challenge the dragon,” you whisper, the words more of a warning than small talk. Everyone knows the prince you’re speaking of is highly revered for his swordsmanship, and you don’t want Sylus to meet an untimely end at his hand.

Sylus nods. “I have also heard that…” He looks over to Kieran as he sips on an unknown red liquid in a wine glass. “Ears are everywhere, princess. It is unlikely you’ve heard something that I haven’t.”

Behind a door, you catch the sight of Luke sneakily listening to a conversation between a man and a woman. They’re older, but the look on Luke’s face as he slinks back into the shadows is nothing short of excited.

The tension between you three is palpable. Sylus’ hands stay clasped behind his back, tightly clenched as if fighting back the urge to reach for both you and Xavier. Xavier is more relaxed, but you can tell from the flexing of his jaw that he’s also pushing down his own needs.

“How about a dance?” Sylus steps in front of you, holding out a single hand in invitation. “Perhaps,” his crimson eyes flicker briefly to Xavier before meeting your own. “After our dance, we can discuss some private matters.”

Anticipation bubbles beneath your skin as you let Sylus lead you out onto the dance floor. Some people murmur about upcoming journeys—a new prince preparing to challenge the dragon at the top of the mountain—while others whisper about marriage proposals in the next few weeks.

But the moment you find yourself dancing to the familiar rhythm that you’ve practiced many times before, you tune out everything around you. The warmth of Sylus’ palm on your hip sears through you, and the only thing you can focus on is how his body heat seeps into every point of contact, from your hands held together to his large palm curving along your hip.

Xavier watches from the sidelines, ignoring all the stares of princesses as they try to gather the courage to speak to him. Now that he’s alone, he lets his mind wander. Music turns to mush in his brain, and his eyes zero in on his two lovers on the dance floor.

The way your eyes light up in the glimmer of the chandelier. The hint of a vein stretching across the back of Sylus’ hand. You’ve danced with Sylus a few times before, when his appearance as a prince was still very new, and he had to explain where exactly his palace was located in the warm valley outside of Philos. It’s not often that Xavier can sit back and enjoy the subtle smile on both your and Sylus’ faces.

He can stand there forever, watching the two of you, but his urges, accompanied by the look Sylus gave him, win out. With a polite nod to the rapidly approaching Princess of the South, Xavier brushes past her and out of the ballroom. Distance isn’t an issue for him, and as he steps into an empty parlor just a few doors down from where a multitude of people are partying the night away, he waits.

“It seems our prince has already taken his leave,” Sylus whispers in your ear, leaning close enough so no others overhear while also maintaining the air of propriety. “Give it a moment, and we can join him.” After a moment, Sylus continues the dance, all the moves you’ve taught him in the dim-lit rooms of his cave coming into his memory. “How have you been?”

You allow yourself a small smile. “Well. I’ve been well.” It’s been a while—too long if it were up to the three of you—since you had seen either Sylus or Xavier, but the carriage ride to Xavier’s palace takes time, and it would be rather suspicious if a princess traveled up to the dragon’s cave. “There have been some things I have missed,” you say, your thumb rubbing a slow circle into the fabric over Sylus’ collarbone. “Your little henchmen have been taking care of your castle quite well.”

You don’t have to look around to know Luke and Kieran are here. “Who is looking after your castle while your entourage is here?” Skating around topics is hard when you’re dancing in the middle of royals who would gladly sell your gossip to the local paper.

“Actually,” Sylus smirks, “I have found myself working diligently on a new treasure.” The way he says it, dripping with amusement, brings goosebumps to your arms. “He’s quite small… I’ll need to… build a bigger body for him.”

“You’ve taken in another lone soul?” The question is completely genuine. You’re used to Sylus’ kindness by now, though the royals are always assuming that the dragon on the mountaintop is a monster; you’ve never seen Sylus that way. He helps. He loves.

Sylus laughs, a genuine chuckle that causes your heart to beat a fraction of a second faster. “Not entirely, though birds do have a mind of their own.”

Before you can speak, ask him what he means by a bird, and the song comes to an end. You bow to Sylus, all in the name of propriety, and let him lead you back to the outskirts of the floor. His bicep flexes under your palm, and as soon as you reach the onlooking people, Sylus brushes past them.

“Eager, are we?” You tease, bowing to an older woman who holds the door open for you. People linger in the entryway, watching for all the latest gossip.

Sylus drops his arm, giving you a low bow while not breaking eye contact. “Very,” he whispers, regarding the passing gentleman with a nod before turning and walking down an empty hallway. You know what he’s doing, and you immediately turn to avoid seeming suspicious.

Standing there beside the stairs, you meander for a moment, pretending to admire the beautiful chandelier hanging in the middle of the room. And though it is stunning, it’s not what you’re focused on, no… You catch a glimpse of Sylus slipping into a room a few doors away.

After what seems like an eternity, you notice the last of the guests walking into the ballroom, giving you the perfect opportunity to follow the same path that Sylus took. When you reach the open doorway, you find Xavier and Sylus standing there, close enough that if it were anyone other than you, it would be the talk of the kingdoms for weeks.

“How kind of you two to wait for me,” you say, your smile wider than the polite ones exchanged in the ballroom. “I thought you would be jumping each other already.” Turning back, you swing the door shut before facing your two lovers again.

Xavier is the first to step forward, pulling you towards him with an open palm. “We have the patience to wait,” he mumbles, but the tips of his ears are already coloring red. “And we were discussing the next time we can see each other.” The moment you’re in Xavier’s arms, you melt into him. “But that is neither here nor there… We have more important business to attend to.”

“Like?” You prompt, looking between Xavier and Sylus.

“Like making up for lost time,” Sylus whispers, moving to stand behind you. His lips find the sensitive skin under your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “It’s been so long,” he nips at your exposed shoulder, thankful that your dress is only held up by small sleeves.

Your eyes follow Xavier as he kneels in front of you, his hands bunching at the ends of your dress. “What are you doing?”

A hum meets your question, the tips of Xavier’s fingers ghosting along your calf as he raises an eyebrow. “Tasting my beautiful princess,” he speaks softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Is that okay?”

You nod. “Yes… Yes.”

Sylus’ hands move from your hips, skimming along your front as Xavier dips beneath your dress, wasting no amount of time before helping you step out of your panties. The time for words is gone, replaced by a warm mouth kissing along your thighs, and hands that maneuver one of your legs up and around his shoulder.

“Xavier–” his name comes out as a whimper, and it’s then that you realize you’re at the mercy of your two lovers, not wasting any more time to touch you how you’ve been craving. “Fu…”

“Hmmm,” Sylus hums against your neck, careful not to leave an obvious mark, but the sounds you make are so tempting. “Careful, love.” The nickname makes you moan. “We don’t want anyone else to hear you, do we?”

You start to shake your head, but the rough pad of Sylus’ thumb finds your hard nipple, and you can’t hold back the stuttered whisper of his name. “Good girl,” he mumbles, kneading the soft flesh through your dress while Xavier drags his tongue through your folds. “Is he making you feel good?”

“B–both,” you say through gasps, reaching for something for your hands to do. Part of you wants to lift your dress, watch Xavier as he loses himself in your pussy, while the other part wants to guide Sylus’ hands wherever you want them. Right now, the only thing you can do is reach up to cup the back of Sylus’ head, arching into Xavier’s mouth as he suctions his lips around your clit.

“We both are?” Sylus whispers, his voice deep with satisfaction. “Good…” He kisses the junction of your shoulder and neck. “I want you both to feel good.” Both of his hands come up to your breasts, teasing you through the fabric until you’re whimpering. “We’ll get you out of this soon…”

Sylus’ teasing words only bring more heat, and when Xavier closes his hand around your thigh, pressing closer to you as if you were the oxygen he breathes, you nearly lose your balance grinding down against him.

“Xav– Sy… I’m…” You can’t speak past the overwhelming press of Xavier’s tongue going from your entrance to the hood of your clit. If anything, the only thing you can say is broken whimpers of their names while you try to stay as silent as possible.

Release doesn’t come until Sylus tugs down the top of your dress, freeing your breasts to the cool air. Your body threatens to twist in their embraces, but Xavier’s holding you upright, and Sylus is holding you against him with his warm palms against your chest.

“That’s it,” Sylus whispers in your ear, his nose tracing your skin with gentle reverence. “Always so beautiful when you come for us.”

When Xavier comes back up from beneath your dress, it’s like all bets are off. Now, it’s just the mess of bodies coming together in kisses that are all teeth and tongue. Hands wander along bodies, all in various states of undress, as if trying everything to enjoy the moment before you’re forced back into society.

“I think,” Sylus cups Xavier’s jaw, kissing him between words as you help them unbutton their pants and shirts. “We should pamper our prince, right, love?”

He guides Xavier back to an armchair behind him, letting him sit down and lean back. Xavier’s dressed in just his shirt, unbuttoned to reveal his chiseled abdomen, honed by a lifetime of fighting.

“My beloved princess and my pretty boy kneeling for me,” Xavier says, his voice breathless as both you and Sylus kneel in front of him. His hips are at the edge of the chair, making it easier for two mouths to get closer and closer to his cock. “You both look perfect like this.”

Before Xavier can praise you again, Sylus delivers a slow lick to the bottom of Xavier’s length, wrapping his lips around the head. Immediately, Xavier’s fingers thread through Sylus’ hair, cradling the back of his head as you mouth along the side of his cock.

A soft expletive slips from Xavier’s mouth, and you listen to the audible effort from the man in the chair to stop himself from groaning. In other circumstances, you all could be as loud as you wanted. The sounds of your moans could bounce off the cave walls or echo in the palace grounds, but with numerous people doors away, Xavier has no choice but to bite into the side of his hand.

“Fuck… Gods, your mouths…” He can’t say anything besides a sigh, his thumb rubbing slow circles into the base of Sylus’ neck as he sinks further and further down his cock. “That’s it. Pretty boy.”

The praise brings a warm flush to Sylus’ face, but he doesn’t stop the slow descent down Xavier’s cock until his nose sits flush against his pelvis. Low gagging noises come, but Sylus has sucked Xavier off enough to be able to breathe slowly, but it doesn’t stop the building saliva that connects Sylus’ bottom lip with the tip of Xavier’s cock when he pulls off with a pop.

“Remember last time when I held onto your perfect horns?” Xavier clenches his teeth when you cup his balls, mouthing along the side of his cock before you take him in your mouth. Instead of speaking, Xavier brushes his thumb along Sylus’ bottom lip. “You have such sensitive horns, love… But all I can– fuck princess,” Xavier’s head falls back onto the chair as you take him halfway, circling your tongue around him. “All I can hold onto– ah– is your hair.”

Both you and Sylus alternate sinking on Xavier’s cock, enjoying the almost inaudible noises that spill from his lips. Every kitten lick and suckle at his tip—where he’s most sensitive—is met with another tortured gasp or groan. It’s hard to stay silent when his two lovers are worshipping his cock and balls with such gentle strokes.

Xavier mumbles something under his breath; the only words that reach your ears are ‘quiet’ and ‘can’t’. Each noise is accompanied by the slick sounds of saliva and the subtle gagging from both you and Sylus as you suck Xavier off.

“Stop,” Xavier whispers, the fingers in Sylus’ hair tugging him off with the strength of a warrior. “Can’t… Can’t stay quiet.” When you sit back on your heels, staring up at him with glassy eyes, hard nipples, and your thighs clenching together, Xavier swears he’s going to cum on the spot. “Don’t want to come so soon.”

All of you exchange breaths, fingers intertwining and bodies meeting in slow kisses. Xavier tastes himself on both of your tongues, but he doesn’t care. If anything, it turns him on more that the evidence of this night will linger with all three of you. He kisses Sylus, moaning when your fingers thread through his hair and you attempt to join in on the messy lip-lock.

“Lie down,” Xavier commands, his usual strong princely voice now breathless.

“Are you sure you can stay quiet?” Sylus teases, letting Xavier push him down on a long sofa beside the chair. None of you is sure what the purpose of this room is, but all you can think of is that when you visit this castle again in the future, this moment is all you will be able to think of.

Xavier doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he kneels in front of Sylus’ hips, thankful for the space on the couch to fit himself there. His lips kiss along Sylus’ hips, leaving a subtle mark there for only you and him to see. You watch as Xavier sinks on Sylus’ cock, coating him with saliva, before his eyes meet yours. “Come here, princess.”

Your feet move of their own volition, bringing you closer until Xavier can tap your hip. “Ride him,” he says, his blue eyes shining in the moonlight.

“You don’t want us to have all the fun, right, kitten?” Sylus runs his fingers through Xavier’s hair, using his other hand to help you climb onto him. “That’s it,” he whispers, letting you line yourself up to his cock before sinking down slowly. “Fuck…”

The whimper that leaves your lips is anything but quiet, and as your nails find purchase in Sylus’ chest, his answering groan is swallowed by your lips. “Gods… Sylus–”

“Good girl,” he soothes the stretch with a light massage to your hip. Both he and Xavier watch with rapt attention as you sink down onto him, your pussy stretching to accommodate his thick cock. “So beautiful for us…”

Xavier kneads the flesh of Sylus’ thigh, coaxing his leg open to reveal the pucker of his asshole. “Relax, love.” He whispers, making eye contact with Sylus as you sit fully on top of him. “I’ve got you.” With a hand against your back, Xavier eases you down until your chest is flush against Sylus’.

You lie there for a moment, and the slick feeling of spit drips down your folds. Before it stains the couch below you, Xavier catches the glob of saliva he let fall from his lips, spreading the liquid around Sylus’ pucker. In one slow breach, he pushes a single finger in, easing so slowly as not to hurt the man lying vulnerable on the couch.

“God,” Sylus groans, his lips preoccupied by yours, as Xavier attends to him. His hips stutter up, burying himself deeper inside you as his fingers dig into your hips.

“Just a little more, love.” Xavier’s fingers work slowly, giving you enough space to start grinding down against Sylus’ pelvis. The soft tuft of hair at the base of his cock tickles you, and the hard plains of his hip give you a delicious friction on your clit. “That’s it, princess. Grind on him while I stretch him out.”

It doesn’t take long before Xavier is sitting up on his knees, one of his hands covering Sylus’ on your hip while the other grips the base of his cock. “Ready?” He asks, dancing kisses along your shoulder. When Sylus gives a small nod, his Adam’s apple bobbing with every clench of your pussy around his cock, he swallows the lump in his throat as Xavier eases the head of his length past the tight ring of muscles.

As soon as Xavier is flush against Sylus’ ass, his chest molding to your back, his hands come around to join yours. Like this, Sylus can only lie there, at the mercy of his two lovers, as they take everything while giving him everything in return.

“Ah, gods…” Sylus’ head falls back against the armrest of the couch, his body exposed for Xavier to play with Sylus’ nipples. The aching peaks are so sensitive—just as the rest of his body is—and his cock twitches inside you with every slow thrust that Xavier gives him.

“Too much?” Xavier whispers against Sylus’ lips, a low groan vibrating through him when Sylus’ hands wrap around his wrists.

Sylus shakes his head. “No, god no,” he mumbles, his eyes screwed shut as Xavier nips at his jawline. “Not too much.” Despite the curling of his toes or the clenching of his ass around Xavier’s cock, his voice remains the same steady whisper. “Nothing you two give me is too much.”

“Careful, love.” Xavier punctuates his teasing warning with a rough thrust of his hips. In turn, your hands anchor on Sylus’ shoulders, pleasure edging into every movement as the tip of his cock brushes right against your G-spot. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“I do,” Sylus says, his grip tight on Xavier’s wrist and your hip. It’s like the warmth of your bodies against him anchors him in this moment, allowing him to categorize this for the lonely nights up on the mountain. “I do know.”

For a few minutes, the only noises you can hear are the slick thrusts of Xavier, the squelching of your pussy around Sylus’ cock, and the almost inaudible cacophony of noises that slip from you, Sylus, and Xavier.

“‘m close,” you whimper against Sylus’ shoulder, your body moving in a mind of its own as you chase your release.

Sylus holds you tight, letting you grind against him because with Xavier fucking him with relentless passion, he can barely move. “Go ahead, kitten,” he whispers against your temple, groaning when Xavier toys with one of his nipples.

White explodes behind your eyelids, and you can’t help the sharp whine that erupts from the back of your throat. Your pussy flutters around Sylus’ cock, your body twitching, muscles jerking in response to every one of the subtle touches that Xavier and Sylus give you.

It isn’t until you come back to yourself that you realize you’re lying on the chair next to the couch. How you got there, you don’t know, but the soft gasps for breath you let out are accompanied by the rustling of bodies and the warmth of hands on your legs.

“Princess,” Xavier’s voice pulls you from your stupor, and when you find his eyes staring up at you from between your thighs, the heat simmering beneath your skin ignites once more. “Can you handle more? Or shall we give you a break?”

As he speaks, his cheek rests against your inner thigh, while Sylus rocks his middle finger past the tight ring of muscle between Xavier’s ass cheeks. Soft sighs of satisfaction come from Xavier, accompanied by his eyes closing and opening once more to reveal deep blue pools that are clouded over with pleasure.

“Right– ha– there,” Xavier hisses, arching back into Sylus’ finger. A wanton whimper slips when said man pulls out, only to replace his two fingers with the slick head of his cock.

“Our princess already made me so wet, love.” You can hear the wet squelch as Sylus taps his cock against Xavier’s hole, and your toes curl when you look up to see Sylus already staring down at you. “You like that, don’t you?”

You nod, your chest heaving with each labored breath you take. Watching Sylus slowly slide inch by inch inside Xavier, your fingers tangle in the prince’s hair. “Xav,” you whisper, your thigh muscle twitching when he delivers a soft nip to your skin. “Please.”

He knows what you’re asking, what you’re pleading for, and he’s more than happy to oblige. Xavier is careful as he arranges your thighs to rest on his shoulders, letting you lounge back on the couch and enjoy the way your pussy muffles the rough groans that he lets out.

The view is nice, too.

Each slow pump of Sylus’ hips pushes Xavier closer to you, and the subtle arch of Xavier’s back lets you see the curves of his ass jiggling as Sylus picks up the pace. The sound of skin against skin echoes through the room, but the noises coming from you three are soft, like the music that faintly drifts in from doors down.

“Fu– careful, love,” Sylus grunts through clenched teeth, his palm resting flat against Xavier’s lower back. It forces his body into more of an arch, keeping his mouth pressed to your throbbing clit while his hands flatten on the ground to hold him up. “Keep clenching like that– that,” he clenches once more, drawing a low growl from Sylus that has your thighs tensing around Xavier’s face.

Your fingers tighten in Xavier’s hair, holding him against you—as if he would want to be anywhere else. However, the touch is more grounding for you than it is for him. When the edges of overstimulation threaten to take you under, it’s the combination of their eyes watching you with such reverence while listening to the sinful noises that come from your two lovers.

“Want me to fill you up, love?” Sylus’ voice is strained, likely by the beautiful sight of his lover spread out under him, his hands spreading Xavier’s ass wider to enjoy the view of his thick length disappearing in Xavier’s slick hole.

At Sylus’ words, Xavier clenches, the words of affirmation almost silent as he speaks them into your pussy. His tongue darts out, lazily tracing your folds with each thrust that Sylus gives him. It’s not enough to bring you to orgasm, but after the mind-blowing one you had riding Sylus, you’re grateful to have the opportunity to watch Xavier get his fill of your dragon.

“You do,” Sylus mumbles, his affirmation met with another clench from the man arching for him. “So desperate for it.” The tense roughness of Sylus’ voice isn’t lost on you, but you watch through hooded eyes as Xavier matches Sylus’ thrusts. “Ready, love?”

Xavier nods against your pussy, wiggling his hips in an attempt to get Sylus even closer. He’s desperate, wanting to feel Sylus sinking so deeply inside him and filling him to the brim.

As Sylus finally lets go, he leans down to mold his chest to Xavier’s back, his lips trailing along his shoulder blade as he eases every twitch of cum deeper inside Xavier. His hips have a mind of their own, pushing further and further until Xavier pulls off your clit with a soft pop, his cheek resting on your inner thigh.

“Good?” Sylus whispers, kissing the shell of Xavier’s ear when he nods. “Clean me up, love.” He pulls out of Xavier, standing up and letting Xavier kneel in front of him. His fingers thread the same path that yours did through his hair, allowing him to clean Sylus’ cock of the remnants of cum.

Xavier sits back on his knees, his hole pulsing with every beat of his heart, trying to keep every last drop of cum inside because having to deal with the cleanup of dried come on the carpet will be hard to explain to the royal owners. There’s a moment where Xavier and Sylus stare at each other, their eyes shining so bright that you find yourself desperate for more again.

“Sy…” You whimper, sitting up. “Need more.”

“Oh, princess,” Sylus chuckles, walking over to you and helping you stand with a hand in yours. “We’re not done with you, either.” His voice is sultry, lips finding yours in a kiss that steals the thoughts from your head. You can’t think straight when Sylus’ tongue tangles with yours, his hands steadying your hips and letting you feel his still hard cock poking your hip.

“Xavier?” Sylus rarely uses Xavier’s name, and he stares at Sylus with wide eyes, his cheeks colored pink from the hot sting of his hole. “Can you come sit on the chair for me, love?”

The question is met with obedience, and Xavier comes over to sit on the chair. “Turn to the side– yeah, that’s it.” Sylus kisses you again, quick and fleeting, before turning you to face Xavier as he sits to the side of the chair. “Bend over, princess.”

The hand that once arched Xavier’s back now arches yours, pushing you down until your toes are barely brushing the carpeted floor. It’s enough to give you some semblance of balance while still trusting most of your movements to Sylus as he settles behind you.

“Still hard?” Xavier teases, his breath coming in low gasps as he comes down from the intense feeling. It’s not every day he’s fucked so hard like that, and it takes him a moment to recover before he focuses on your warm breath fanning out across his hard cock.

“Dragons have amazing stamina,” Sylus mumbles, his attention focused on the flutter of your pussy around nothing, coaxing him closer and closer until he’s pushing just the thick head of his cock past your muscle. “You’re okay, kitten?”

Even though you were just riding him, Sylus insists on asking to make sure you’re okay, and you respond with a creaky nod, your neck still adjusting to the way you’re bent over the armrest. One of your hands holds onto Xavier’s thigh, nails digging into the skin as Sylus rests almost all of his weight against you.

His cock fills you so well, more than Xavier’s in terms of girth, but the length barely brushes against your G-spot at this angle. Your toes try to curl, but the soft fabric of the carpet anchors you in the foggy pleasure that threatens to blind you from the aching cock inches from your lips.

Your eyes meet Xavier’s, and his fingers hold onto your hair as you sink halfway down his cock, his taste spreading out across your tongue. The way he stretches your lips helps you keep silent as Sylus starts to move, his hips meeting your ass with each punishing thrust.

“Pr– princess, fu–…” Xavier stops, his head falling back as you use your tongue to tease his slit, your eyes closing in ecstasy. Your previous orgasm still lingers in your movements, and every strangled whimper is muffled by his cock on your tongue.

“Keeping her quiet– I, fuck, see,” Sylus’ chest vibrates against your back as he speaks, the intensity of his thrusts never slowing despite just fucking Xavier. The tight clench of your walls around him is enough to have Sylus biting lightly into your shoulder—his own attempt to stay quiet despite how much noise you all have already made.

Xavier guides you, his touch never demanding but grounding you in the myriad of sensations that tickle your nerves. His thumb rubs a slow circle into the side of your neck, easing the tense muscle there that works as you swallow around him.

It isn’t until the first smack against your ass rings out in the room that Xavier’s hips have a mind of their own. You whine, your eyes filling with tears, as you clench around Sylus, the brief hint of pleasurable pain ringing through you until Sylus soothes it with the warmth of his palm.

“There you go,” Sylus breathes, his lips brushing your shoulder blade as he leans down to kiss at whatever inch of skin he can reach. “You take it like such a good little princess.”

The praise has your hips wiggling, but with little to no traction on the ground, you’re forced to lower yourself deeper onto Xavier’s cock. Soft silver hair tickles your nose, but the scent that is so uniquely Xavier calms you down enough to swallow around him once more.

“Pri– don’t want to hu– hurt you,” Xavier groans when another harsh smack to your ass pushes you further onto him. “Be care– ful.”

“Mmmhm,” you hum against him, the hand on his thigh squeezing in some sort of silent reassurance that you’ll be okay. You want this. Especially knowing that when you three part for the night, it will likely be some time before you’re all together again.

Especially with the new offers for Xavier’s hand… You force yourself to stop thinking of the possibilities, of the idea that Xavier will be forced into something he doesn’t want. For now, you enjoy this.

You enjoy the tender cradle of your head as Xavier’s fingers hold you, letting you bob up and down as you please. And the soft praise that Sylus peppers across your back as he fucks into you with the reckless abandon of a dragon—and you love it.

“Getting close, princess,” Sylus mumbles the words against your shoulder, standing tall once more and delivering another slap to your other cheek. “You clench around me– fuck– every time I do that…” He rubs at the red mark with his thumb, his hips bouncing against your ass. “You like it?”

You try to nod, but it’s hard with Xavier’s cock filling your throat.

“She definitely i–s,” Xavier stutters out, his body pliant after being fucked but still so on edge.

“Fu–ck… Going to fill you up,” Sylus whispers, his chest and neck flushed a pretty shade of pink. Xavier watches from his seat on the chair, enjoying the view he gets of you being claimed so thoroughly by Sylus while knowing he’ll get a turn soon. “Is that okay?”

The answering hum you make around Xavier’s cock is met with a curse from Xavier.

Your body hums with pleasure as you feel Sylus twitch once, then again, as he fills you with as much cum as he filled Xavier with. It soaks your walls, the liquid threatening to spill out the moment Sylus withdraws from your pussy, but his fingers quickly replace his cock, coaxing the white release back into your fluttering hole.

“Come, love.” Sylus gestures for Xavier to stand, pointing to the couch. “We don’t want anything to come out, do we?”

Xavier shakes his head. “Clean up is going to be hard,” he mumbles, stealing a kiss from Sylus. His tongue tangles with Sylus’, meeting him halfway as Xavier reaches up to toy with Sylus’ nipples once more. “What about you?” He asks, peppering kisses along Sylus’ jawline as you lie limp against the armrest. Your body is pliant, chest heaving with breath as tears of pleasure threaten to ruin your makeup.

“I’ve finished twice,” Sylus mumbles, kissing Xavier soft and sweet, “my prince and princess deserve some attention.” He reaches down, stroking Xavier slowly, before guiding him to lie sideways on the couch.

“Alright, princess,” Sylus chuckles when he sees you still lying there. “Can you handle one more?” You nod, too desperate for release and craving them again. “We’ve got you… Come here.” Strong arms wrap around you, pulling you up and resting you down on the couch next to Xavier.

Arms come to wrap around your middle, and you feel the familiar poking of Xavier’s long cock between your thighs. “One more for us, princess,” Xavier whispers against your shoulder, watching as you arch back into him and let him slide inch by inch in your slick heat. “Good girl…”

As Xavier gives you a moment to adjust to his length, Sylus sits on the couch, his thigh right next to your head. Calloused fingers lift your head, and the plush muscle of his leg cushions your cheek. “Here,” Sylus says, his touch gentle as he kneads your breast. “Use my leg to muffle the sounds.”

“Ye–ah, Xavier…” You whimper, turning your head to bite into Sylus’ thigh. When the thrusts pick up, turning into a rough meeting of skin on skin, you clutch at whatever you can reach.

One of your hands grips Xavier’s bicep, his strength a match for Sylus’ as he holds you right where he wants you. The other hand comes up to lace with Sylus’ squeezing with all your strength as Xavier fucks into you with the urgency of a man not wanting anyone to walk in on you three.

But you forgot that you didn’t close the door all the way.

“Where is the Crown Prince?”

“Has he run off? My daughter wishes to speak with him.”

Jeremiah listens to the incessant murmurs in the crowd, his eyes frantically searching but finding no explanation for where Xavier went. It’s also odd that Sylus and the princess are gone as well…

“I swear, I don’t know why his father chose me to punish as being his watcher…” Jeremiah mumbles under his breath, walking out into the entryway and looking around for any trace of the prince. Instead, he finds nothing but soft noises that are mostly muffled, but with Jeremiah’s own training, he knows to pick up on the subtle things.

A few expletives directed towards Xavier are uttered as he walks closer, his cautious steps ready to turn biting if it really is Xavier that has snuck off to do god knows what.

“Right there– fu… Xavier–” Your voice hits Jeremiah’s ears before he knows what he’s looking at. The small gap in the door is enough for Jeremiah to catch a glimpse of what’s happening. Your leg suspended in the air by Xavier’s strong hand, his cock pumping in and out of you with urgency yet still complete reverence, and Sylus’ naked body lounging next to the two, his cock limp but skin flushed with the evidence of their pleasure.

Jeremiah’s eyes widen when you crest over the edge, your pussy clamping down on Xavier’s cock in an attempt to milk your other lover for everything he’s got. The watcher can’t help the heat that builds low in his stomach, the blood rushing south in a way that he will surely have to attend to when he returns to the palace.

He knew something was going on with the Crown Prince and both you and Sylus, but to see it in action like this? Jeremiah’s ears burn as he hears Xavier mumble something unintelligible into your ear, and your answering nod is met with even harsher thrusts.

Jeremiah only watches for a few more seconds, noting the way your breasts bounce as Xavier doesn’t let up despite your orgasm already pulsing through you. He’s too overwhelmed with this realization, and the extremely tight seams of his pants.

Xavier finishes with a groan of your name, his fingers digging into your thigh as he holds you still, filling you up with even more cum. Some of it leaks out around his cock, ruining the couch below you, but the three of you are in too much bliss to care, not when you’re full with both of your lovers, and satiated with fantasies to dream of for weeks to come.

“We must clean up,” Sylus whispers after a few moments, his fingers twirling at both yours and Xavier’s hair. “Surely people will be getting suspicious.”

Helping you stand, the two men make quick work of your corset and dress, knowing it will be harder to put that on than their own suits. Cool air hits your legs, and you feel the distinct dribble of cum down your thigh.

Sylus chuckles. “These panties won’t be able to keep everything in,” he mumbles, helping you step into the undergarments while Xavier helps with your shoes. They both press a quick kiss to your leg, standing up and dressing themselves, while stopping to steal kisses between the three of you.

It’s not perfect, but as you all freshen up and finish getting composed, Jeremiah walks too fast down the hall and back into the ballroom.

“Oh, hey,” Luke points at Jeremiah, his smile crooked at the red flush on Jeremiah’s cheeks. “You’re the Crown Prince’s entourage, right?” He nods, and Kieran pops up next to Luke, half his face obscured by the shadows. “We’ve been looking for Prince Sylus.” He says it with a whisper, as if calling him Prince is devaluing his strength as a dragon.

“Uh… Uhm…” Jeremiah stutters, shuffling away from the entrance to the ballroom and closer to a corner. “He– uh… I don’t know– where he is…”

Just as he says that, gasps echo through the room as Xavier makes his entrance first. His hair is not as flat as it was before he left the ballroom, with silver strands sticking out in odd ways. His steps are measured, walking into the crowd and trying to disappear amongst the fawning princesses.

But then Xavier meets Jeremiah’s eye, and he knows. He can tell in the red flush across Jeremiah’s cheeks, and the way Luke and Kieran stand just a little too close to his confidant.

A subtle shake of his head, and a glare. Tell no one.

Jeremiah’s heart may as well have burst out of his chest, and he knows he’ll have to answer to his friend and Prince the moment they board their carriage for Philos, but his thoughts are paused when Sylus walks in.

“Boss!” Luke whispers, sneaking back into the shadows and away from Jeremiah.

“He looks happy,” Kieran comments, his shoulder brushing Jeremiah’s as you walk in not long after Sylus. With the love-struck smile stuck on Sylus’ face, and the obviously disheveled skirts of your dress, the twin can guess what his boss has been up to, especially considering he’s heard Sylus mumbling both yours and Xavier’s name in his cave.

Jeremiah curses, his eyes closing as Kieran claps him on the shoulder. “Looks like you’ll be in deeper shit for whatever you saw, huh?” Wiggling eyebrows and the sly smirk on Kieran’s face as he sneaks away to meet with his boss don’t help Jeremiah’s predicament, not to mention the strain in his pants as he walks to grab a drink from the refreshment table.

Meanwhile, you prepare to excuse yourself for the night, not wanting to see princesses fawning over one of your lovers, while the other is smiling too wide for the onlookers not to be suspicious. And with the come soaking your panties and dangerously close to leaking down the inside of your thigh? Perhaps it’s time to retire to your palace.

But this time, you have the memories of your shared time in that parlor with your two lovers to last until the next time you meet.

And that will be enough.

you held out the tupperware container filled to the brim with recently baked chocolate chips—the sweet, warm scent wafting through the plastic. "i did, yes. though i wasn't sure if you had any allergies, so don't feel any pressure to eat them or anything. i just thought it'd be rude to come over without bringing anything."

oh great. less than five minutes into this conversation and you were already rambling.

suguru took the container of baked goods from your hands with a wary look, bringing it up to his nose. "you're not a serial killer by any chance, are you?"

you blinked. "if i was, wouldn't it defeat the purpose of telling you now?" not very reassuring.

regardless, he gestured for you to come inside. you stepped inside the apartment and slid your shoes off at the door, taking in the sight of his living room.

the space was bathed in a dark red light accompanied by sonder’s one night only playing in the background and a couple candles flickering from the coffee table—the warm richness of sandalwood permeating through the air.

“you.. uh.. you really planned this out, huh?” why couldn’t you just have said it looked nice and moved on?

now it was just plain awkward.

well, awkward-er.

sure, you knew the concept of sex and how it was supposed to work, but what every hookup guide always forgot to cover was the before. even if you'd talked before this, the two of you were just strangers. what were you supposed to talk about with him?

how were you supposed to skip this part and go to where you were riding him like a pony?

suguru shrugged, padding over to the kitchen to leave the container of cookies on the counter. “did i do too much?”

“it’s just your apartment and all, but the lights seem a little.. excessive.” that was putting it as nicely as possible.

he took the criticism in stride, grabbing a remote from the counter and turning them off before flicking a lamp on, painting the room in a dim orange light. the room was immediately much more warm and welcoming than what’d you first walked into.

you stood at the door, taking a look at the little bits of decoration that you could now see more clearly. a couple figurines, expensive, if you had to guess, a couple books strewn around his coffee table, and a cat tree perched up near the window.

you remembered the small bag in your pocket. digging it out of your pocket, you held it up in between your fingers. “i saw your cat on that one thirst trap,” he didn’t bother protesting—it was a thirst trap, “so i got some treats on the way here. i hope you don’t mind.”

either you were a psychic or you just naturally had a knack for this sort of thing. “they’re her favorite, thanks. take a seat, we don’t bite.”

the previous girls that came over to his apartment usually just gave the cat a little coo or downright ignored her, but you seemed like you wanted to get to know her more than you did him.

suguru wasn't sure if he was amused or if his ego was slightly bruised. (hint: both.)

you took a seat on the black leather couch like you owned the place, patting your lap. “what’s your cat’s name?” you questioned, the cat peering up from her paw at the noise before going back to grooming herself.

“that’s sage.”

you lightly shook the bag of treats, trying to beckon the very uninterested cat with the promise of food and an unconvincing baby voice. your efforts were working. somewhat.

sage lazily trotted her way down from the top of the cat tree before making her way over to you, sitting at your feet. her eyes were calculating, analyzing if you were worth her time. you didn't dare move a muscle when she leaned in to sniff at your socked feet and legs.

just when you were convinced that you'd gotten a big fat F on her evaluation, sage seemed to decide that you were harmless enough. she hopped up on your lap and settled down like the self proclaimed royalty she was, nudging her head against your hand in demand for head pats. you complied.

your fingers ran through the soft black fur while the cat purred like a lawn mower underneath your touch.

"she normally doesn't like strangers," suguru noted, plopping down on the couch cushion next to you.

"do you use that line on everybody that steps foot in here?" well.... yes!

and it usually worked like a charm, thank you very much.

"wait, what, really?" the last girl he'd brought over to his apartment remarked, the very same girl that signed him up for lifelong scientology visits and the army two weeks later after he failed to respond within five minutes, staring at him like he'd hung up the moon and the stars.

"yeah." the cat in question, looked at him with as much disdain as her little body could muster. suguru made a mental promise to reward the cat with catnip and treats for helping him spit out the first bullshit that came to his mind. the girl seemed too happily convinced, going as far as calling herself sage’s step mom.

needless to say, the cat hadn't been all too happy about getting squeezed and cradled around like a baby by a woman she'd never seen before and never saw again after. her displeasure was obvious if the broken flower vases and scratches on his leather furniture were anything to go by.

he'd stopped using that line. or so he thought.

"...no."

you raised a brow, gaze full of suspicion as you stared at him. barely applying any pressure. and just like a rubber band, he ended up snapping within seconds, “…yes, fine, i have. but it’s the first time i’ve meant it.”

you weren't sure if he was full of shit. but the cat seemed to like you decently enough, starting her own biscuit factory on the fabric of your jeans with each ear rub. “how’d you end up getting her?”

suguru looked over to see you and his cat getting along decently well, finding himself a little lost in the scene when your question finally registered and you were staring at him.

“i found her locked up in a cage close to home. her owners called her a devil and all kinds of names, their own negligence, really,” he rolled his eyes, reaching out to pet her chin, “anyways, they were all too happy having someone to hand off the cat to.”

the two of you sat in a comfortable silence after a few questions from one another, getting to know each other a bit better apart from late night conversations. only the sounds of sage’s purring and the outside world filled the apartment.

that was until, "c'mere." suguru lazily spread his legs on the sofa, patting his lap.

“you do realize i’m not your cat right?” as if proving your point, sage got up from her spot on your lap over to his.

“fine, can you please come here?” he gave the cat one last scratch before setting her down on the floor, asking a little nicer. you got up from your spot, standing in between his legs before you lowered yourself onto his lap.

"hi," he murmured once you settled onto his lap, his hands instinctively moving down to your hips.

"hi." you braced your hands on his shoulders to keep your balance, suddenly feeling the reality of the situation crashing down on you. the pretty man underneath you wanted to have sex with you. you were going to have sex tonight.

sex and your first kiss, apparently. (you refused to count the time you'd gotten kissed as a dare in middle school.)

and as if he could read your mind, suguru took a hold of your chin and gently tilted your head up to face him, "can i kiss you?" you didn't miss the way his gaze flickered from your eyes down to your lips every .5 seconds.

you met him halfway, pressing your lips against his own. trying to go with the flow as many people said (what flow? you weren't completely sure yourself).

"close your eyes, i can feel you staring at my soul.” he pulled away, whispering the words against your lips and leaving you chasing behind his.

you let your eyes flutter shut, leaning into the kiss slowly. even going as far as tilting your head a little so you wouldn’t— “ow!” — do exactly what you just did. bump your nose straight into his.

you opened them back up to see suguru was more amused than hurt, a stupid smile on his face as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “try closing them when you’re already leaned in, hm?”

rolling your eyes, you shifted a bit on his lap before giving it one last go. one of your hands came up to cradle his soft cheek, leaning in and shutting your eyes at the last second. he tasted like mint and something else you couldn’t decipher.

his lips molded against your own in a languid kiss, each touch an experiment to know your body better. suguru’s hands moved down your body, each one resting on your ass like he wanted, no needed, you all that much closer. the exchange grew heavier, sloppier, messier.

everything was heightened—you could feel every single little thing. from the slight hitch of his breath when you captured his lip in between your teeth to your own traitorous heart thumping underneath your rib cage.

his lips moved from your own to the corner, down to your jaw, until he finally reached your neck. then that’s where he went ham. sucking, licking, kissing on whatever inch of skin was at his disposal all while taking note which spots had you shivering and squeezing your thighs together.

latching onto the sensitive skin of your collarbone, suguru placed a kiss out of reverence before he started to suck. he was practically in bliss all without taking his clothes off. if he were a weaker man, he would’ve shot his load the minute you’d settled onto his lap and got a whiff of your sweet, sweet perfume.

his hands moved up from your ass up your back, probably going to take your shirt off before his phone got the bright idea to interrupt the moment: want a break from the ads?

suguru had never regretted not investing into spotify premium as much as he did in this moment.

is your girlfriend unsatisfied in the bedroom? your stamina not being what it once was? if these symptoms sound familiar, you might suffering from erectile dysfunction. ask your doctor about levitra—

that was enough to get him up to his feet, crossing over to the kitchen counter in three strides. suguru quickly got his phone from the counter before the ad could continue, deciding that the ambiance was ruined and shutting the music off.

"do these symptoms sound familiar to you?" you teased, resting your cheek on your palm as you watched the scene with mild amusement.

"you could come to my room and find out." not nearly as smooth as he usually was, but good job suguru!

"are you really getting me into your bed with an erectile dysfunction ad?"

suguru tilted his head, "is it working?"

and you really wished it wasn't, but it was. you were quick to get up on your feet, padding over to where he stood and reaching your hand out. "let's go find out then."

his bedroom was much like the living room—a minimalistic design with a couple pictures hung up on the walls. his friends, if you had to guess. he led you over to the bed, sitting down on the edge.

not nearly enough bed-pouncing as you were expecting.

suguru spoke up, his hands resting on his lap, "you're allowed to change your mind, don't feel pressured to do anything you don't want to do. i’m here to please you.”

“i want this,” you responded, moving up the bed to rest against the headboard. he followed, keeping a reasonable distance between you two, “i want to have sex with you, suguru. let’s just take it slow.”

closing the distance, you straddled yourself over his lap, each of your legs next to his own. you lowered yourself down and placed your hands on his shoulders under the guise you knew what you were doing. and then, you started to rock and gyrate your hips against his clothed leg.

you rubbed and grinded your hips harder, faster against his leg in an attempt to feel something other than the friction of his sweats rubbing against your shorts—unsure of what to do other than rut yourself against him like a dog. maybe he was liking this?

should you start moaning?

“o-oh fuck.” a, what you hoped was realistic, moan left your lips, your fingers digging into his shoulders to really sell the point. suguru looked at you, wondering if he really looked that stupid.

you weren't sure what you were doing—that much was obvious. you were humping his leg, your rhythm too quick to be pleasurable for either one of you at this point.

"have you ever done this before?" were you really that obvious?

the question had your hips stilling their movement, your gaze falling down to his face. when you shook your head, suguru let out a small tut, holding your chin between his fingers, "that's okay, baby. we'll take it nice and slow, just follow me."

his hands splayed on your hips, slightly moving you up his lap before he started to guide your movements. and oh, now you felt it. his cock strained against the material of his sweats, each ridge rubbing against your warm heat.

well, at least now you knew the ad wasn't meant for him.

"oh yeah, that feels better huh?" he cooed in your ear, his cock twitching in his pants just by feeling how wet you were getting already.

you were dripping, slick stringing and sticking to your panties with each roll of your hips. he wasn’t much better—cock prodding against your entrance like it was begging to be released. “uh huh, better,” a breathy whisper left you, your back arching against his fingertips.

when he kissed you again, it wasn’t soft and gentle like he’d been at first. no, he’d tested the waters already.

now he was kissing you like he needed you, like he needed air to breathe. each breath grew labored like he couldn’t bare being apart. his tongue moved in a synchronized dance with yours, tasting and absorbing everything you had to give.

your lips moved with the same desperation, fingers gripping against the material of his shirt. trying to take it off before he seemed to catch onto your unspoken hint. he reluctantly pulled away before sliding his shirt off in one fluid motion, letting it fall onto the mattress beneath. and… wow. beautiful was an understatement when it came to him.

you let your fingers trail down his abdomen, the muscles tensing underneath your featherlight touch. tracing and poking whatever little beauty marks you found on your way down. he was just so.. pretty.

“you really think so?” his voice brought you out of your reverie, and oh shit, you’d said it out loud?

“like you don’t know it already,” you retorted, trying to downplay the situation.

suguru shrugged, watching your fingers intently as you traced and gently scratched down his pecs, “i like when you call me pretty.”

you rolled your eyes but gave in anyways, “you’re very pretty, suguru geto.” you felt his cock twitch underneath at the compliment. leading his fingers towards the hem of your own shirt, you guided him into taking off the flimsy article. he seemed all too eager to revere your body the same way you had his.

mumbled compliments of you’re so beautiful and so soft left his lips until he looked up at you, his hands gliding up and down your hips, "do you want me to keep going or do you wanna stop here?"

you grabbed his hands, bringing them up to your chest. “i want this, suguru. i want to go all the way with you, i promise.” his fingers tweaked and squeezed at your perked nipples, his lips ghosting above the left before he swirled his tongue around it. latching his mouth onto the sensitive flesh and sucking, working the other with his fingers.

strings of saliva connected his lips to your tits when he finally pulled away—deeming that he’d given them enough attention for now. suguru flipped the two of you over, hovering above you before slowly kissing his way down.

peck. your collarbone.

peck. your tits.

peck. your navel.

peck. the waistband of your shorts.

“you can take it off,” you assured him before he even had the chance to ask the question. suguru didn’t hesitate once he got the thumbs up, hooking his fingers onto your belt loops before sliding your shorts down your legs and shaking them off.

you could’ve sworn you caught a hint of drool once you were all exposed for him.

suguru kissed his way up your leg, each one leaving behind a slippery trail behind him. “so pretty,” he mumbled, sucking onto your calf before moving further up to your knee, “so perfect laid out for me.” each one sounded like a quiet admission to himself.

despite how desperate he seemed, suguru took his time when it came to finally undressing you. his teeth sunk into the lace of your underwear, your hips lifted when he moved down the offending material at the pace of molasses. trying to savor as much as he could.

he let them fall onto the pile of clothes next to you before admiring his meal. your cunt clenched around nothing when a slight breeze came in the room, your slick glistening against your folds, clit practically throbbing his name out in morse code.

but suguru prided himself on having some semblance of patience. thinly veiled patience, but patience nonetheless. he wedged himself in between your legs, his lips hovering dangerously close to your entrance before moving down to your inner thigh. repeating what he'd done earlier on your leg.

he pressed featherlight kiss after another onto the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, occasionally biting hard enough to leave behind a nice lil' memory for tomorrow. your legs instinctively spread, every sensation sending your body through a livewire and yet.. you were lost in thought.

you wondered how many people he'd had in this room, how long this would take, what'd you eat for breakfast tomorrow, and—"focus on me, pretty girl."

immediately broken out of your endless string of questions, you looked down to see suguru already peering up at you. "talk to me, what's going on in that head of yours?"

you shook your head, "just got lost in thought, i guess."

"then we'll just have to make it to where you can only focus on me, angel."

and then he dove in like he was a man starving.

his big hands gripped your legs and spread you apart like a feast, tongue flicking out to taste the slick dripping down your folds and thighs. "taste so good, thank you, thank you," he babbled, swiping his tongue up and down your folds before flicking it inside of your pussy.

your cunt gushed like an open sink against his mouth and chin, the man practically nose deep as he thrusted his tongue in and out of your sopping pussy. his jaw went slack, sucking and tracing your folds with the tip of his tongue before going back to eating you out.

soon, two of his fingers took place of his mouth. two long and thick fingers. your juices ran down to his knuckles while he spread you open, his fingers curling and hitting that one spot inside of you with ease. "fuck, it feels so good," you whined, bucking your hips up to meet his fingers.

"i knoww baby, just needed suguru to take care of you." he didn't let up, much too starved himself to even think about doing so. his lips latched onto your swollen, throbbing clit and sucked lightly onto the nerves. your grip on his hair tightened, a broken moan leaving from his lips.

"just like that," he hissed out, his hips rutting into the mattress underneath. you noticed a dark patch growing in the front of his sweats. "take what you want from me, y'know how to do it." your hips swiveled and thrusted against his eager mouth, spit and slick drenching his chin and dripping down to the mattress.

it was hard to think about anything other than him, you had to admit that much.

your legs shook with each thrust of his fingers, with each swipe of his tongue. just as you were about to press your legs together, suguru pried them apart once more with ease. "don't interrupt my meal, i'm not done eating." and how could he say that when he already sounded so drunk off you?

his tongue swirled against your clit, the tip drawing circles around the sensitive nub. "f-fuck, gonna cum, keep going," you whined out, nails digging into his scalp. the sound of your pussy gushing around his fingers was all you could hear, and yet, all you were focused on was chasing your own orgasm.

it was so close, you felt a knot building up in your lower tummy. "fu-fuck fuck fuck," broken babbles left your lips, your toes curling and legs shaking the more you felt that pressure increase. with one final thrust of his fingers, you came. the knot unraveled all at once, your release washing over you (and his fingers) like a tidal wave.

he'd never been such at bliss before.

each breath felt like it was splitting your lungs open, your chest heaving as suguru slowly pulled his dripping fingers out of you. he didn't mind staring you in the eye when he put his fingers in his mouth, sucking them off as if no drop could go to waste. "mm, wanna taste you forever." his eyes practically rolled back, his tongue swirling against the two digits.

once you finally regained your bearings, you sat up and asked, "do you want me to return the favor?"

suguru let out an indignant scoff like you'd just insulted his very existence. and in a way, you had. "i did that because i wanted to, because i needed to taste you," he retorted, shaking his head like he wasn't reevaluating his degree in munchology, "not because i was expecting anything out of you."

getting up from your spot on the bed, you padded over to where he was sitting and situated yourself right in between his legs. absentmindedly running your fingers up up up the thin material of his sweats, barely grazing your fingertips against the growing tent between his legs. before you pulled away altogether.

you looked up at him like you were sin incarnate, lashes fluttering against your cheek, "what if i really really want to suck you off?"

suguru swore his soul left his body for a minute. he'd gladly let you keep it if you wanted it at this rate.

“then by all means, go for it.”

that was all you needed to slide the flimsy material of his sweatpants onto the floor, his cock slapping up against his stomach once it was released. now it was your turn to nearly drool. you couldn't have imagined that a dick could be this pretty.

a nice tan color at the base with a hint of red at the tip, a curve settling to the right and precum dripping down his shaft just from having you in his mouth. it was fairly long and thick—as thick as your forearm, you could assume.

all the fanfiction you had saved in your bookmarks couldn't have prepared you for the sight of the twitching cock in front of you.

you stared at his dick like it was something out of an anatomy textbook, trying to figure out the best approach to go about this before ultimately deciding to throw it out the window and just try it out.

"a-ah fuck." suguru practically turned into putty the moment you took him in your mouth, one of his hands coming to rest on the back of your head. not pushing, never that; he'd never risk making you uncomfortable.

thick globs of spit dribbled down to your chin and down his shaft from the corners of your lips. "just like that, yeah, please." suguru wasn't afraid to be loud—letting you know what you were doing right. one of your hands wrapped around his cock, your fingers tightening around the base before you started to jerk your hand up and down.

you could hardly take him in fully—your cheeks hollowing out to make more space and it still wasn't nearly enough. "soo good, please don't stop," suguru’s voice drawled out when you tried taking more of his cock in your mouth.

you could feel tears pricking up at the edge of your waterline, blinking them back quickly. his cock was barely a couple inches in your mouth and the tip was already starting to hit your uvula, your saliva coating around the shaft to mix with the precum spurting out. once you were able to, you started bobbing your head up and down his length.

suguru’s fingers dug into the sheets beside him, his chest starting to feel like he’d run a marathon. your tongue, your mouth, just you, everything felt too stimulating, too good. the hand you’d been jerking him off with moved down to his heavy sack, your fingers rolling around his balls.

and just like that, suguru was a goner. he swore he saw the flickering of a white light above. you felt them tighten up underneath your fingertips, growing heavier and heavier with cum. you looked up to see him completely disheveled, mouth agape to let out shaky gasps and broken moans. and right before you swore you almost felt him cum, he pulled you off.

“did i do something wrong?” your question came out innocent, like you hadn’t nearly sucked the soul out of his body.

suguru let out a disbelieving laugh, pulling you up to your feet before feverishly leaning into kiss you. not seeming to care that he could taste himself on your tongue. “just need to cum inside you, can i do that, please? you still want this?”

he sounded completely and utterly ruined. but you nodded into the kiss, your fingers pressing into his shoulders. “i need you, sugu, need you so bad. please fuck me, please.”

he moved at the speed of light, setting you down onto the comfort of his mattress before he settled himself on top of you. his cock throbbed and twitched at the mere contact with your bare pussy, his fingers wrapping around the base as he swiped the tip through your folds. “you sure you want this?”

just one more time to confirm. you nodded.

“c’mon, use your words for me, pretty,” he whispered, rubbing the tip against your swollen lil’ clit. your throat bobbed as you swallowed back an embarrassing moan.

“i want this, suguru, i’m sure.”

"okay, take a deep breath in for me." you complied, filling your lungs with air before letting it out in a deep exhale. he slowly pushed his cock in, your walls tightening and clenching involuntarily against his shaft.

"there we go, that's it baby. takin' me so well." suguru's voice came out akin to a purr he didn't mention how he'd barely pushed an inch in. once he was certain it was okay, he pushed another and another in.

a choked gasp left your lips when he finally seemed to bottom out, feeling like your body had just been split in half. and maybe, just maybe it was, you wouldn’t necessarily doubt it.

suguru wiped away a couple tears that streamed down your cheeks, standing still while you got used to the intrusion. it was hard, he had to admit, when you felt so warm and wet around him. but anything for your comfort, he wouldn’t risk that.

“you can move, suguru,” you spoke up, one of your hands reaching out to take hold of his. his fingers grasped your own, placing your hand on top of your head before he slowly pulled out and thrusted back in one swift motion. your pussy drenched his shaft each time he pushed back in, each thrust smoother and faster.

suguru leaned down to kiss you, hair falling like a waterfall and covering his face completely before he ever got the chance to get close. you bit down on your lip, trying to keep yourself from laughing in his (hair covered) face before reaching out and moving his hair out the way.

so goes the super suave geto suguru.

a small giggle left your lips at the gesture, slowly starting to feel more and more comfortable being around him. (well how much more comfortable could you really get after having him inside you?) suguru let out a small huff, rolling his eyes in faux annoyance before handing over a hair tie.

you managed to make the world’s messiest ponytail in twenty seconds. go you!

“i’m glad my embarrassment’s amusing, but you okay?” he asked quietly, treating you as if you were a delicate piece of glass. long fingers trailed up your sides like he was admiring a piece of art, not at all like the strangers that you were supposed to be.

“i’m fine,” you assured, wiggling your hips and trying to thrust back into him, “you can go faster, though, please?”

suguru didn’t hesitate to follow that command, hips snapping into you almost immediately. your cunt sucked him in with each thrust, squelching with how much you’d drenched his shaft. his heavy balls smacked against your ass TWACK TWACK TWACK!

your legs wrapped around his waist like you were physically trying to intertwine your body as close as you could to him. “ah ah fuck, sugu, faster, faster!” your moans sounded like the best kind of melody to his ears, and well, who was he really to deny?

suguru hoisted a leg up on the bed for a better angle, hitting that spot inside of you with each quick thrust. your walls clenched around him like a vice, like you wanted to keep him trapped while you gushed and soaked around him.

“pussy’s so good, i’m never letting you go,” he babbled, his other hand gripping your hip to move you up and down his shaft as he pleased.

his middle finger rubbed desperate little circles against your clit, your eyes rolling back from just how good you felt. the hair tie was long since forgotten, hair falling onto his face as he leaned forward to capture your lips in what could only be described as a tangle of tongue and teeth.

everything about him screamed desperate and unhinged—and you weren’t any different.

“make me cum, make me cum, please,” you moaned out against his lips, your chest heaving and your breaths coming out in short pants. suguru nodded like it was his only mission in life, pushing his cock in and out sloppier and messier than he was at first. practically gliding with how wet you were.

your orgasm built up more intense this time, your nails digging into the sheets below as the coil in your tummy began tightening. “please please please,” for what were you begging for? you didn’t know. a scream that would probably wake up his neighbors left your lips as you came, dripping and soaking his shaft in your wake.

“so messy, my messy girl, that’s ittt.” he was a broken pussy-drunk babbling mess. suguru continued to rut into you, chasing his own orgasm while working you through your own. his hips moved desperately, balls twacking against you with each sloppy sloppy thrust until he finally choked out,

“w-where do you hic want it?”

you didn’t give it much thought, “my face, sugu. wanna taste you, come for me, need you.” that was all it took for the last bit to snap, barely managing to pull out in time before he was spurting out drops of cum onto your face and your open mouth.

you swallowed every last drop that landed on your tongue, your features contorting into a slight grimace once the taste settled on your taste buds. and just like you'd come out of a damn porno and his wet dreams, you stuck your tongue out.

"fuck, you're gonna kill me." a breathless laugh left his lips. he made sure to push his hair back this time around before he leaned into kiss you again, his tongue prodding into your mouth.

one time fucking awkward and slightly offputting girl pussy and he was ready to get your finger measurements to buy the most expensive ring he could find at the jewelers. maybe he'd start with just a date once he came back to his senses.

suguru plopped down on the mattress next to you, rubbing a drop off cum off your cheek with the pad of his thumb before bringing it up to his own lips. "was that okay? you need anything—water, a bath, your dignity?"

you let out an amused scoff, turning your head to face him. admiring his features in the post sex glow. you had to admit—to yourself mostly—he looked good worn out and panting. "my dignity's still intact, thank you. but some water and a rag would be nice."

he cracked open the water bottle and left it on the nightstand next to you before disappearing into the bathroom. you could briefly hear the sound of water running before he emerged once more, a wet rag in hand.

each swipe of the rag in between your legs was a gentle one, treating you with the utmost care in the world. “you don’t have to leave right away, if you don’t want to. i can make some mean scrambled eggs.”

“how inviting,” you teased, taking a sip of the water as you mulled it over. how bad would it be to stay the night if he’d already been inside of you? “but sure, i’ll stay. if only for the scrambled eggs.”

you weren’t sure how long the two of you spent up talking about nothing and everything in between, from what you did for school to how you got into baking. it was.. refreshing, in a sense.

you could picture yourself doing this kind of routine with him almost too easily. the last thing you remember before succumbing to sleep was his arms wrapped around your stomach.

holding you like he never quite wanted to let go.

loud knocking woke up suguru at ass o'clock in the morning, long before the sun even started to peek its head from the horizon. a groan left his lips as he forced himself to untangle his limbs from your own and get up.

you didn't seem to notice his absence, in fact, you almost seemed to enjoy it. a little too much, if you asked him. you laid in the middle of the bed, sprawling your arms and legs out like a starfish.

the knocking on the door grew more insistent—determined to get an answer one way or another.

"hi, good morning. i'm from the church of scientology." this time they'd sent a middle aged man to stand at his door and spit out the same spiel he'd heard for the past five months in a row, greeting him with a smile that suguru deemed unnatural this early in the morning.

a smile that quickly seemed to fade once the man took notice of the blossoming hickey on his neck, the scratches that ran down his abdomen.

the man grasped his copy of dianetics like he was clutching his pearls.

suguru would have to eat you out later just for this reaction.

the man cleared his throat, eyes averting down to the book in his hands, before he cracked it open to the first page he could find. suguru wondered how long it'd take the man to figure out the book was upside down.

"i'm here because you signed up to receive visits every weekend. for just the small price of ¥73,300, you could learn all about the church and how to reach enlightenment—" the more that the man rambled, the more that suguru was more inclined to start his own cult than join this one.

but regardless, he let the man finish his spiel before he tapped his chin in faux thought. “to join a cult or not to join a cult, decisions decisions…”

the man raised a finger to protest, pushing up the thick rim of his glasses up his nose, "well actually, we're not a cult, we're a religious group focu-"

the man was left rambling to the front door about the difference between a 'religious group' and a 'cult.'

but he relented, suguru had to give him that at least. the man remained at the doorstep, bringing his fist up to the door but never making contact. probably regretting coming over in the first place.

"who was at the door?" you were barely awake yourself, rubbing at your eyes as the bright morning light peered in through the windows.

suguru pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a small groan, "would you believe me if i said scientology?"

"who'd you piss off?" you questioned, standing by the kitchen with your arms folded.

this time, another groan. though he sounded more whiny than anything, “why does everyone always assume i did something?”

"am i wrong though?" you countered.

SMS Message: Home tomorrow.

Sender: Leon S.K.

You jumped up from the couch as you read it, the words shaking on the screen you held with trembling hands.

You didn’t think he’d come home so soon. You didn’t think he’d come home at all.

The next 18 hours were a blur, and then you heard it: the purr of a familiar motor in the driveway. It stopped you dead in your tracks, standing as still as a statue in the kitchen. You tensed as you waited for the sound of footsteps outside— held your breath as you heard the key in the lock— watched unblinkingly as the handle turned— when Leon walked through the door, time itself went still.

For a moment, all you could do was stare. You didn’t know what to expect. Every mission changed him, and you didn’t know what new version of him would walk through the door now, or how to react to it. And the stakes had never been higher.

The days before his departure were spent mostly in silence, doing little else except hold each other as his departure neared every second. You both knew the two likely results: he’d either die in the place it all began or come home even closer to death’s door. He’d wait for his disease to slowly consume his soul while he made his own funeral plans, and you’d stay close to your gun to prepare for the moment he went cold.

You’d spent the time between his text and now clinging to hope and preparing yourself for the worst. You’d never felt as fragile as the moment he opened the door.

He looked your way as the lock clicked behind him. It was only a few seconds, but they expanded into eons as you searched him for signs of bad news. A knit in his brow, or a downward tug of his lips. Traces of tears he may have wiped away in the car before you could see them. His steely eyes filling with grief.

But you didn’t see any of that. Instead, he grinned and held his arms out wide.

You flew crashing into them. He was steady, firm, and tight as you clutched your fists into the back of his shirt. His arms wrapped around your head and he kissed the top of it softly, swaying you ever so slightly because he was too overcome to stand still.

For minutes, all you did was stand in the doorway and hold. That was the quiet choreography of all of his homecomings, though it never felt routine. Each time it had a different weight, and this one was the heaviest yet by far.

When you finally were able to pull away, you scanned him again for signs of injury, physical or otherwise. You knew him like you knew yourself, and even the most imperceptible changes never got past you.

Your eyes widened when they dropped to his neck.

You didn’t have to ask; he already knew the question. He answered it, still smiling, his voice gravelly and low, soft and tired, but not weary. All of it built up your hopes until he finally spoke it into reality.

“I’m alright, baby.”

His hands grazed your face, and you nearly flinched at the feeling of his bare fingertips purely out of habit. You’d spent months of him preventing you from coming into contact with his infected tissue. But then you realized what you were feeling: real skin sans leather, flesh devoid of flaw. His fingers were roughened from calluses and nothing more, complete with his wedding band returned to its rightful place.

Your eyes watered in disbelief and awe. A trepidatious smile grew on your lips as he cupped your cheek in his palm. You covered his hand with your own and pressed into the warmth while your other hand traced up his torso, until you were grazing over the skin of his neck and nudging down his shirt collar.

It was free of all black-rotted dry patches, no cracks on the surface to be seen. Nothing but a fresh scar you didn’t need to ask about right now. Right now, all that mattered was that he was whole and solid, returned to his natural state, totally healed and hot-blooded under the surface.

Your breath hitched at his body heat. Oh, how you missed his skin.

“You’re really okay..?”

The words were small and barely squeaked out. You didn’t want false hope. You needed to know the healing was more than just skin deep. His reaction assuaged all fears.

“Yeah. I really am.”

The truth took a moment to permeate the air. When it did, he took you in a kiss so firm and certain, it crushed all remaining doubt.

You met it fiercely, pushing yourself against his torso to feel him closer. Your hands threaded into the hair on the nape of his neck as he wrapped his arms around to hold you firmly in place.

Your tongue darted out first, or maybe his did, you couldn’t say. And from there, it happened fast.

His hands moved to the back of your head, then your waist, and then your ass, where they couldn’t help but grope and lift until your legs wrapped around him and he held you in the air. You grabbed his face as your lips parted wider to allow his tongue further inside. He roughly kicked off his boots and then he was walking. He kept kissing you all the way through— he didn’t need to open his eyes, he knew where he was going.

Your back met the cool blankets on your bed and then he was crawling over you, caging you under him in the dark. You wrapped your hands around his biceps and felt the muscles flex as he lowered himself to kiss down your neck, covering each square inch of skin with his sloppy, desperate kisses.

“I feel better than I have in years. Spent the whole trip home waiting to show you.”

'To prove it to you' was in the subtext.

He returned to your mouth hotly and grinded his hips into your center, the friction of his jeans against the soft fabric of your home clothes making you keen into the toe-curling feeling. He pulled his shirt over his head and you took the opportunity to speak.

“Turn the lamp on, need to see you.”

He made quick work of reaching over to it, and then you shuddered as your palms felt the expanse of his abdomen. Tight ab muscles, beefy pectorals, and broad shoulders. The sight you never got sick of that made up his brawny form. All of it healed and renewed.

He kept grinding while you took him in. Your arms went up and around and down again, nearly worshipping the flesh. But when you yanked at his belt, he stopped you with his hands around your wrists, bringing them to each side of your head and caging you in again.

“Spent too much time thinking about what I’m gonna do to you.” He sat back up and you kept your arms where he fixed them as he began to pull at the elastic waistband of your bottoms. He kissed your exposed navel and you shivered as he mumbled into you. “Need’ta show you how I’ve always wanted to fuck you.”

You never felt like his age held him back much in the bedroom— his job relied on stamina and endurance, and though his job was physically demanding and he was not quite in his prime, the toll was mostly seen in the back pain after; it hardly showed in the moment. As his hands and mouth traveled every inch of exposed skin like a starving animal, you wondered if you could even handle him giving you something more. The thought of finding out went straight between your legs.

His mouth went straight there, too.

You nearly yelled as he dove into your cunt with a fervent tongue, lapping and sucking and messily making out with your folds, his thumbs kneading to pull open the soft fatty skin of your vulva. He wasn’t interested in wasting any time on teasing, clearly.

Your thighs clenched around his head and a hand pushed against his head reflexively to fight off the sudden intensity, but it was useless. The pressure of your legs around his head only spurred him on until your cunt was soaked in spit– it certainly wasn’t your own wetness– he devoured every ounce that escaped before it could go anywhere but his mouth.

You bucked and twitched as you cried out his name. “Leon, Leon, s’too much, holy— fuck, Leon—” but he only spread your thighs and kept your there, pointing his tongue to circle sharply around your clit.

“I’m just getting started, baby,” he said, sucking your clit into his mouth and letting go with a flilthy noise, “thought I’d never taste this sweet cunt again, gonna drink my fucking fill.”

Your head fell back as he dove back in, steady and thorough and obscene. You took deep breaths, although they were more like hitched pants and moans until you acclimated to the sensation. He hummed as he felt you melt under him and added a single finger inside, groaning when you arched into it.

He slowed down, his finger rocking and curling in and out and his tongue lapping at you. You looked down to see his darkened eyes gazing at his work between tastes, and you shuddered as he licked his lips before retracting all touch. Your hips flinched upwards to beckon him to return, but he didn’t. He met your eyes and reveled in your wanton expression as he sucked you off his fingers, never breaking eye contact as he rose to kneel between your parted legs.

He finally began to do away with his jeans, and something changed in his tone as he did. You shivered with desire as you watched him move. It was deliberate and slow. He was undressing like a threat.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen…”

His belt fell with a thud against the ground—

“I’m gonna fuck you until you cry…”

The button fell apart with a flick of his wrist—

“Fill you so full of cum you’ll be dripping ‘til next week…”

The zipper seemed to ache as it slowly parted open—

“And you’re gonna fucking take it.”

Unhurriedly and never once looking away from you, he pushed his pants and boxers down until his thick cock sprang free. You whined at the sight of it, eyes fixed where it hung in the air. It was dark pink– definitely darker than usual– his hot blood expanding every vein. He was harder than you’d ever seen him, a full display of the immensity of his desire, so much that it nearly looked painful. When a bead of precum began to appear on his tip, your mouth watered for it.

Your eyes scanned upward as you realized he’d stopped talking and was kneeling there in wait while you stared. You took in his form on the way up; the way his abs tightened with every throb of his cock, the striations of his brawny arms, the few new cuts over old scars. The heavy rise and fall of his chest as he held back for the last time tonight.

And then, you saw his face. His chin was slightly raised as if he was looking down on his next confirmed kill. His lips were still glistening with slick as they were pulled into something not unlike a snarl. His hair was halfway in his eyes, but it did nothing to conceal the intent within them.

“You think you can handle that?”

Your eyes fleeted to his navel, only for a second, assessing him like a loaded gun that was aimed right at you. His hands held his clothes in tight fists and his cock leaked with pre.

You met his eyes again and blinked as you nodded and choked out a needy, “yes,” and your gulp gave away your uncertainty. But that only seemed to spur him on.

He fell forward; suddenly, his face was inches away from your own, one hand on the mattress beside your head to hold himself up, the other yanking his pants off as quickly as he could.

“You know what to say if you can’t,” he grumbled, hunkering down to glide his tip against you until it notched against your entrance, “because telling me to stop won’t be enough.”

He grabbed your wrist at the same time he violently drove in, knowing you’d leap from it and keeping you there anyways. You were nothing but a mess of yelps and moans as he beat his way inside, clawing against his back and shoulders. A single finger wasn’t enough to ready you for this, and the knocks against your cervix were only soothed by the equal force against your g-spot.

Each merciless pounding of his fat cock stretched your walls to their limit, and he truly didn’t give you any other option but to take it. You groaned at the way he used his broad build to keep your legs open to him, every ounce of muscle that you were no match against weighing down to pin you there.

With an arm wrapped under you to hold you by the back of the neck and the other tightening in the hair on the crown of your head, he caged you in to face him. But your dizzy eyes were squeezed shut and could only open to roll back into your skull.

He shook you lightly by the hair. “Look at me,” he growled. You mewled as you attempted it, but your glossy eyes went straight back behind your eyelids. He did it again, harder, pistoning up to fuck you harder, too. “Look at me, you fucking bitch.”

The shock of his words made your eyes shoot open with a gasp and a furrowed brow, far removed from the gentle reverence he held you in at the door. His gaze bore straight into you with a scowl, his adoration replaced with possession.

He was terrifying. Unhinged. A madman on the loose inside of you. A killer who lashed against your walls with uncalculated raw power. Though you could only see his face, it was the hottest thing you’d ever seen.

While you were still reeling from the disparagement, he gritted angrily into your face, crowding you until your noses nearly touched.

“Who owns you?”

You could only attempt to answer, your voice breaking into a sputtering moan as he bottomed out harshly again and again, not needing any of the great focus it took you to speak.

The pitiful noise you’d made wasn’t good enough for him. He squeezed the sides of your neck and you arched off the bed, but that only sent your body flush against his, which didn’t make you any clearer-headed.

“Tell me who fucking owns you.”

You felt like you were floating as your brain was cut off from blood flow, and out of care for your own wellbeing, you managed to answer him.

“Y-you, Leon—“

He let go of the pressure and smirked as you gasped. “Mouth not so good for talking right now, huh? Only good for one thing?”

He unclasped his fingers from your hair and brought them to your chin, delving into your parted lips to hook around your bottom teeth. You let your jaw fall open and watched in shock as he spat inside.

“Swallow it,” he commanded, fingers digging into your face as he pushed it shut. You shuddered as you did, and his own eyes rolled back now.

His head fell into the crook of your neck with a smoky groan. You felt hot puffs of air against your pulse as his hands became gentler, like he revered you for doing what he demanded.

“Gorgeous fucking girl… needed this cunt so bad, went through hell to get back home to you…”

His hold on you may have lessened, but his words held your heart in his fist and squeezed. He’d captured your thoughts so purely on the present, you nearly forgot the context.

Your arms were limp as they tried to wrap around his back, barely able to hold on as he moved with every pounding of his hips. But still, they searched him, chest filling with every inch they felt unmarred by disease, and your cunt pulsed as he searched you for places to grab. Your ebbing breasts, the small of your waist, the meat of your hips, landing finally on the underside of your knee where he changed the angle to impale himself even deeper.

You were losing it, and he could tell. He thrust upwards to meet where your hips rose to help him land in that perfect spot and he kissed your jugular— first a peck, then an open-mouthed kiss, and then a full-on lick of his tongue.

Your legs trembled under him. “Leon, I’m, fuck, please,” you breathed.

He twisted your nipple and nipped under your ear as if to mock how it made you writhe. “Oh yeah? You sure you wanna cum so soon?”

‘So soon’ ..?

Maybe he wasn’t all talk when this started. Maybe that savage look in his eye wasn't a trick of the light. At this rate, he wasn’t going to fuck you until you cried, he was going to fuck you until you died.

But he wanted it. He lifted himself enough to sear your mouth with a kiss, his thrusts slowing momentarily to wedge his hand against your clit. He gathered the wetness between your bodies to easily rub against the silky nub. Your toes curled and your spine curved to seek the friction of his freshly calloused fingers. He deepened the kiss as you moaned, and it became all tongue so he could swallow the sounds in his throat.

He was debauched. Delirious. A bad man smiling as he plucked petals from a flower. Delightfully drowning himself in sin. All you could do was surrender as he brought you your undoing.

You came with wild cries and jolts of ecstasy, nails digging into his deltoids as he sped up even more. You watched him look down at his cock being covered in your cream, a ragged sound in his throat as you tightened around him with each wave of pleasure.

You panted sharply as you barely began to come down, and he lifted himself up on his haunches, kneeling between your legs as he soaked up the sight.

Once your half-lidded eyes met his, he grabbed your hips to brutally fuck you into him.

You clawed at the sheets as he used you like a toy. You won’t be surprised if your ass is speckled with fingertip-shaped bruises tomorrow. All you could see in front of you was your breasts recoiling from each thrust, and behind them, Leon lost in his own world of feeling. His head was tipped back and you saw the stubble under his chin— his pecs were flexed and flushed pink from the vigor— all of him covered in a light gloss of sweat that shone in the warm lamplight.

He was intoxicating to behold, and it was absolutely unfair, because you already lost the ability to think straight. Now you drank him in with your eyes, and you were totally inebriated.

Your moans turned into some kind of mumble. You didn’t know what words you were hoping to form, but it was something along the lines of a warning that he was approaching the realm of too much. He looked down at your babbling with a lust-filled, lazy smirk, all too pleased with himself already.

“Whatdya want, love? You drunk on my cock already?”

He slapped your clit and laughed lowly as you gasped and jolted, then propped your limp legs around him and barreled in even more. Steady, fast, and loud.

Thank god the apartment days were over or the cops would come any minute. Skin slapping against skin, the headboard banging dents into the drywall, you crying out for him like he was carving out your heart. A noise complaint in the making. But when he signed the property deed, it came with the right to make you scream, neighbors be damned.

And scream you did as he held you even tighter and thumbed your swollen clit, evoking your walls to seize in the way he needed to release. He leaned back with a sharp and airy shout, hips sputtering as you felt him unload deep inside, his remaining jerky movements making it trickle out around him.

You were a touch thankful as he slowed down and his hands rubbed soothingly on your thighs. You could finally catch your breath. But your graciousness was short-lived as he flashed a grin and flipped you onto your stomach. The breath was forced out of you as your chest fell into the mattress, and your eyes went wide as he lined himself back up, slowly pushing inside, his cum allowing his cock to slip easily inside regardless of how sore your folds already were.

You whined and knotted your fists into the fabric under you as he bottomed out and pulled away with slow and liquid motions. You heard the faintest laugh rumble in his chest before he spoke.

“I’m not anywhere near done with you,” he huffed.

You buried your head in the soft sheets below. Filled with his load and the promise of another, you felt totally and completely his. Exactly where you wanted to be. Right where you belonged. You couldn’t help but smile, until he moved and it was wiped off your fucked-out face.

He gripped the meat of your ass as he steadily picked up speed, the silver of his wedding band cold against you in contrast to the heat of your bodies. A wet spot collected underneath you from his cock coaxing out his cum with each thrust. The sounds were softer yet even more crude with your cunt so sopping wet.

“Gripping me so good, look at you,” he spread your cunt apart a little more, “goddamn, you’re perfect.”

You felt mildly embarrassed at the messy sight of you that he was undoubtedly staring at right now, but at the same time, you envied his view. To watch his cock disappear inside of your puffy and well-used folds, then withdraw covered in his cum and a healthy mix of your own. To view his strong hands holding you open, to see yourself laid out in submission.

But all you could do was feel, and that was more than enough to sate you. In fact, you were already well past satisfaction, and you kept having to refind your focus so you could keep taking more. You inhaled deeply as you felt the soreness at your entrance and reminded yourself to relax your body, sighing away the tension in the muscles you didn’t mean to flex: your thighs, your back, your shoulders. But then you’d feel the friction of his tip dragging against the gummy walls of your g-spot, and your mind was clouded by pleasure all over again.

He wasn’t going nearly as fast as before, but it was obviously a choice, and not one made out of tiredness or necessity. It just felt too good for him to change the rhythm. With your knees together as you lay prone, your canal was tightened in a way that made you feel dense and so, so warm around his tender cock. You always felt incredible to him, but if sex always felt like this, he wouldn’t just fuck you all night, he’d stay buried in you so long he’d risk starving to death.

You were each lost in your own minds as the feeling went on and on. The air was heady and thick as you breathed against the blankets, and Leon was humping into you like waves rolling into shore– fluid motions that still crashed onto the shore or your center, followed by another and another, a constant ebb and flow that lulled you deeper into euphoria.

“Feels s’good, Leon, oh my god… d-don’t stop.” Your voice was laced in awe.

“Really fucking does… shit…”

The words were airy and held just as much wonderment as yours had. He traced a hand down the valley of your spine, revering the body that gave him such immeasurable bliss. Knowing that he was feeling the same seventh heaven you were made you feel even more connected to him, and your toes curled at the thought.

It kept going, and going, and going. You couldn’t tell how long it remained exactly like that, neither of you searching for your next orgasm, just totally and completely captured by the present. Time wasn’t something that existed in the room. It was a long time, but it’d never be enough.

He groaned as you felt his hips stutter involuntarily as the next thrust landed even deeper inside. The unexpectedness hit you both and turned it back into something needier. The next thrust snapped against your ass and you arched into the air to meet it. He shifted to hold you firmly as he set on a new wanton speed.

You mewled as you keened into him, legs parting slightly to make room for any spare length he had to give, and gripped the sheets as his balls began to slap against your clit. Each time he crashed against your walls, you felt them begin to bloom with electric want, and you braced against the bed to push yourself back into his thrusts as they became gritty, harsh pounds again.

He felt just the same as you, blood rushing to the parts of his brain that demanded another orgasm, and he felt every flutter of your walls around him that beckoned to milk him dry– exactly what he wanted you to do, to drain him until he had nothing left to give. He wanted to do whatever it took to make sure that fluttering didn’t stop.

He reached under you to rub your clit. You yelped as his fingers made contact, gliding easily against the cum-covered nub. His forearm was pressed against your navel, pinned between you and the mattress, and you could feel the size of his cock protrude against it from within you. Your legs spread even wider as you cried out, struggling to hold onto reality as he worked the thousands of nerve endings he’d already made oversensitive. Now, it bordered on torture.

The way you opened yourself only made it easier for him to find purchase to pound even harder, meeting the way you writhed and keened for more, his eyes rolling back as you bore down as if you were trying to squeeze him out. But all it did was drive him harder into all the right spots inside of you, and you were so overcome with sensitivity, you came before you even knew you were close.

And you came hard. Jolting and seizing as you cried his name, your eyes growing wet from the shock of it. He was loud as he reacted to the way you clenched and pulsed around him, your warm, slick cum covering his cock and making his movements sloppy and wet. And you were even louder as he kept going even harder.

He was surprised that he didn’t cum again right then and there, but it only galvanized him to pull your hips back and use you again. Your body was growing limp, you were shuddering and shaking, and his eyes widened with madness as he watched your face contort in pleasure. He was watching for signs that you’d say your safeword, too, but every moment that passed that you didn’t, he took as permission to fuck you even harsher.

Your head lolled and your lip quivered as you took it like a punishment, not a single coherent thought inside your head. You registered that he was close like white noise, simultaneously in the background and all around you. His hands seared in their grip on you as he hammered in once, twice, and then held himself deeply inside with broken rasps and moans. Your lips fell open as you felt his fresh load mingle with the first, pooling hot against your cervix.

He pulled out with a violent hiss, and you cried out as the fluid stung against your sore opening. Your legs trembled until they collapsed back onto the bed along with the rest of your body.

You were vibrating from the inside out, still reeling from how aggressive both of your orgasms were. You could hear him catching his breath, too. You twitched as you felt him touch the outside of your cunt, bracing yourself for more, relaxing when he only stroked the outside. He drew his fingers up and down the crease of your folds, languid and smooth, leisurely playing in his overflow. He pressed them in once just to watch you jolt, and then cleaned them off with his mouth.

He finally gave you a break and turned his focus to taking care of you. By the way you lay there limp, he knew you needed it. He peppered you with kisses as you floated in the afterglow, sprinkling them softly on your rear, up your spine, and onto your shoulder blades, until he placed one on your cheek.

He brushed your frazzled hair away from your face and the corner of his mouth pulled into a smile at the absolute state of you. But then the lamplight reflected off a tear and he furrowed his brow as he gently wiped it away.

“You with me, sweetheart?”

He chuckled at the small sound you made in acknowledgement, the only thing you had effort to respond with. He placed a kiss onto your head.

“Did so good for me, love. So perfect.”

He grunted as he laid down, pulling your back into his chest to spoon you. You weakly held onto his arm as it wrapped around your torso, shifting back into him to steal his body heat.

You closed your eyes with a sigh as you soaked in the way he took care of you after such a brutal display of lust. His thumbs circling against your sweat-damp skin, nose nuzzling against your hair, gravelly voice soothing you with praise.

“M’so glad to be home, baby. You always made me feel young again, but it’s almost like I am young again. Don’t want to take it for granted. Gonna take some time off, take you on vacation, let you see the world. Might fuck you on every continent.”

You giggled at his ambition, still high on happy chemicals and swimming in the dream he laid out. It’d be a significant change, him enjoying the fruits of his labor with things more permanent than gifts and fast cars. You always encouraged him to, but he said it’d be easier for him to cope with losing a material possession than a vacation being ruined by being called on a mission. You hoped it wasn’t just the endorphins talking.

“Yeah, you like that idea? Good, ‘cause I mean it.” He kissed under your ear and squeezed you in closer. “Wanna spend every day making you happier than ever, make up for how long I was sick. Can’t waste any of ‘em not fucking you the way you need me to.”

You gasped as you felt his half-hard cock twitch against your ass, instinctively arching back into it. A shiver ran over your skin as he pressed it against you in turn, and you realized he still wasn’t done, confirmed by the way his voice darkened against your ear and he started kneading your breast in his hand.

His kisses against your pulse turned open-mouthed and erotic, one hand pinching your hardening nipple as the other reached for his cock, slowly stroking himself with the tip resting against your sopping hole. You were so flush together that with each wave of bloodflow that grew him towards full-hardness, it breached your pulsing entrance without him even trying.

Your toes curled as he leisurely thrust into one centimeter at a time. It was just enough of a tease to eat away your apprehension. You really weren’t sure how much more you could take, but as he shallowly fucked his tip into you, you became increasingly desperate for more, until you were squirming and panting in his arms.

You gasped as he suddenly pushed halfway in, feeling your folds and your entrance smart in their soreness. Just a few minutes left empty and you needed time to accommodate him all over again. He wasn’t quite as big as before after two orgasms, but with his size, being slightly smaller was still pretty fucking huge. And now you needed to adjust to more than his size; you needed to adjust to your own overstimulation, too.

He thrust halfway in and stilled there, holding you tight to prevent you from backing into it, feeling your legs shake around him.

You already couldn’t walk, he was sure of it. But it must be well past midnight now. Did you need to use your legs tonight anyways? He decided that you didn’t. Might as well make them truly useless.

He bottomed out in one smooth, sharp thrust, aided by the lubricant of the two creampies inside. His eyes rolled back as he stayed there for a brief moment, just long enough to feel you throb around his cock, like your body was begging him to make it three.

He’d never cum that many times in a row before, not even in his prime. But now, he felt like he’d entered a new prime, and he wanted nothing more than to see just what his limit was. He wondered if he’d reach yours first. But you were a tough girl, he thought. You took him like you were made for it.

His navel thumped against your ass as he drove in with that goal in mind: find out how much cum he could stuff inside your cunt until one of you tapped out.

He started steadily, knowing it’d take him longer to find his finish a third time, and seeing how you were already a mess of moans, both from pleasure and physical overwhelm. It boosted his ego to know he was pacing himself for you much more than for himself.

You felt like an unraveled spool of thread. You couldn’t believe he had the stamina for another round, his age considered or not. You were shocked you could keep going yourself. But at the same time your swollen cunt ached around him, it sucked him in for more.

He twisted your head back to take you in a kiss, swallowing your moans as he beat fast inside again. You reached back to hold onto any part of him you could until your senses were once again flooded and you melted open to him.

“That’s it, relax for me. Just one more, baby, gonna fill you to the brim. Fucking take it.”

Almost a year, but never in your life had you seen someone return so eagerly each week. A man had been visiting weekly, always hovering around the cookbook section. At first you thought it was coincidence. Then pattern. Then curiosity.

He was tall. Impossibly so. Broad shoulders filling out his hoodie, pale hair catching the light whenever he tilted his head to read spines. You’d seen hunters before, of course. Linkon City was full of them. But none of them looked at books like that. None of them lingered. None of them were as beautiful as he was in the glittering rays of light shining through the library's windows. 

He had started appearing more often as the spring progressed, his fresh ambience brightening up the cozy library you had learned to work in. The comfortable darkness turning into something lighter each day he had spent looking at cook books. Did he like to cook? Or was he learning to? 

The curiosity gnawed at you, threatening to spill out and confront the beautiful man. But you knew better than to simply embarrass yourself.

Another work day at the library had arrived, and with that, the mysterious silver haired man. You stood at the front table, sorting some books as you caught that familiar stature waltzing around the library.

It was hard to focus on work when the living image of a prince danced in front of your eyes. You sigh and adjust your soft cardigan, cheeks warm, and focused back on sorting returns.

……

Later that afternoon, a familiar problem awaited you on the top shelf of romantic fiction. For weeks you had tried to get that book at the very top, even begging the other librarians to find a small ladder you could use, but no one had anything that could aid in your efforts.

You stood on your toes, fingers stretching uselessly toward a thick hardcover just out of reach. You huffed softly, round cheeks puffing as you tried again. Why were shelves even designed to be so unrealistically tall if no one could reach?

Just as you’re about to give up, warmth seeps into your back.

A presence behind you. Solid, careful. A hand reached past your shoulder, brushing close without quite touching, and plucked the book down effortlessly. The strangers' hands are beautiful. Slender, pale, and the fingers were attractively long, a few stray veins decorating the muscle under the skin. 

“There,” A male voice says gently, the softness guiding you to turn around. You startled, then turned. And found yourself looking up at him for the first time.

You had seen him from a distance, tracing covers and flicking through pages. Sure he had looked beautiful then, but now that he’s closer, you couldn’t help but think about his unfair genetic performance. 

Up close, his eyes were soft. Almost shy. He looked at you like you were something precious he hadn’t expected to find. 

“Oh– thank you,” you said, taking the book. “I never win against these shelves.”

A small smile curved his lips, carefully accessorising his already handsome complexion. “I wonder why.”

You laughed before you could stop yourself, a familiar heat creeping up at your cheeks, threatening to reveal your deep crush.

He looks at you and laughs softly, the smile seemingly becoming softer as he stands near you. You look up at him and copy his expression, a soft curl of your lips illustrating on your face before you speak again.

“I’m ___, what’s your name?” You tilt your head expectantly, hoping his beautiful lips will open again to pronounce the letters of his name. 

His voice is gentle as he answers your question. “I’m Xavier.” 

……..

That was how it started.

Conversations followed. Quiet interactions between the library’s aisles, lingering glances over returned books. Xavier began coming more often. Sometimes he helped you reshelve. Sometimes he just… stayed.

He was perfect. Unrealistically so. And through the many words you’ve exchanged, the perfect accusations end at cooking…..and his sleeping addiction. Turns out that the only reason he had observed the cooking books is to learn how to cook in the first place, because he had a tendency of burning down his poor kitchen.

He liked the way you hummed while working. You liked the way he listened. He was so attentive when it came to you, never being as immersed in a book as he was in a conversation with you. 

You thought it was rare to meet a person that matched you like a lost puzzle piece, but surely, it happened. You were slowly falling for him, the crush developing into deeper connections and needs. But that made you slightly self conscious.

You had never thought of yourself as ugly, or unattractive for that matter, but after witnessing the type of girls that tend to hit on Xavier, the insecurities began to resurface. They were skinny, and beautiful in a way that rivaled your beauty. But he had a habit of being oblivious to their flirtatious behaviour, and ended up brushing them off as soon as they talked to him. Well, attempt to anyway. 

It was just wishful thinking, as the thought of confessing to him plagued your mind every time he talked to you. 

When you finally invited him over for tea weeks later, it felt inevitable.

…..

Your apartment was warm, smelling faintly of vanilla and brewed leaves. Xavier sat across from you, long legs folded awkwardly as he held his cup with both hands. You were both sat on the floor, the fluffy carpet cushioning the seating option.

“Tell me if you need anything m’kay?” You say softly as you blow lightly on your tea, the light steam whirling into patterns as it travelled the air. 

He’d been quieter than usual, gaze drifting not to the bookshelves or the window, but to you. Your hands, the curve of your cheek when you smiled, the way you leaned in when you listened.

He inhaled. You noticed the way his shoulders lifted, then settled, as if he’d made a decision he couldn’t undo. His eyes focus on yours before he speaks…

“I like you.” He said, the words seemingly firmer than his usual softer tone of voice. 

The words begin to ring in your ears. The way he had looked at you, like he actually meant it. This whole situation overwhelming your senses, he was everything you could think about. 

‘I like you’

Your fingers trembled around the teacup. You tried to steady your breath, tried to respond, but your thoughts felt scattered. Too full of warmth, of disbelief, of the way Xavier was looking at you like you were the most mesmerising thing in the whole universe.

Then the cup tipped. Hot tea splashed into your lap. You gasped sharply, instinctively leaning back as the liquid soaked into your skirt. 

“Ohmygod, I’m so sorry, I–” 

Xavier was on his feet immediately. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said, voice urgent but gentle. He grabbed a handful of tissues from the table and knelt in front of you without hesitation, blotting carefully at your thighs. His movements were soothing, precise. Never rushed, never careless.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, glancing up at you, worry written plainly across his face.

You shook your head, breath shaky. “No– Sorry, I’m just a bit surprised.”

His hands lingered just long enough to make your heart flutter, warmth radiating through the fabric where he dabbed away the tea. You were suddenly awfully aware of how close he was, of the quiet concentration in his expression, of how carefully he treated you. Like something fragile, precious.

You clear your throat, interrupting his careful actions. “I should–” You swallowed. “I should clean up properly, stay here.” 

You stood, legs still unsteady, and made your way toward the kitchen. You barely made it two steps before you felt him behind you, clearly disobeying your recommendation to stay put. Not touching, but close enough that you could feel his presence like heat at your back.

In the kitchen, you reached for a cloth by the sink. And then you realized there was nowhere else to go, his mere breath cornering you into the kitchen draws. 

Xavier stepped closer, hands bracing on the counter on either side of you. Not trapping, but undeniably surrounding. You looked up, breath caught, and found his gaze fixed on your face, dark with something deeper now. Something careful. Wanting.

“I didn’t mean to overwhelm you,” he said quietly. “I just… needed you to know.”

Your pulse thudded in your ears, the unfamiliar closeness working against your heart's rapid palpitations.

“I’m not overwhelmed,” you murmured. “I’m just a bit flustered.”

A small sigh leaves his lips, soft and relieved. His head dipped slightly, forehead nearly brushing yours. 

“Can you please look at me?” He whispers, the timbre of his voice vibrating against his chest. 

The air between you felt charged, humming with everything unsaid. He didn’t touch you, not yet, but the way he stood there, so close, made it feel like he already was. Waiting, giving you time to finally acknowledge the words he had said just a few moments ago.

And when you finally met his gaze again, steady despite your racing heart, it felt like the moment right before something changed.

You didn’t think. You just leaned forward.

Your lips brushed his. Soft, hesitant, barely there, like you were testing whether the moment was real. You could feel your heart pounding all the way up your throat as you kissed him again, just as gently. For a small fraction of a second, Xavier froze. Then he kissed you back, with the same tooth rotting sweetness that you had given him. 

It was slow. Careful. His mouth moved against yours like he was afraid of startling you, like he was memorizing the shape of your lips. One hand lifted, hovering near your waist before finally resting there, warm and real.

You pulled back, breath shaky, forehead almost touching his.

“I feel the same way,” you whispered. “About you.”

The effect of your words were almost immediate.

His breath hitched, eyes darkening with something unmistakable. Relief, want, emotion all tangled together. He didn’t hesitate this time.

Xavier kissed you again, deeper now, needier. The gentleness was still there, but it was threaded with hunger, with all the restraint he’d been holding back. His hand slid more firmly to your waist as you clutched at his hoodie, kissing him back just as desperately. His kisses felt like heaven. It was ethereal. The need in his kiss, the soft sounds that left his lips. You were hypnotized, and it seemed like he was too. 

The world narrowed to the sound of your breaths, the heat between you, the way he fit against you like he always had. Like he was meant to. Not by fate, but by choice. 

A quiet sound escaped you when his hands slid lower, tracing over your thick thighs.

Before you could process it, he gripped the backs of your thighs and lifted you effortlessly onto the counter. You gasped, hands flying to his shoulders. 

Oh. That was unexpected. But so incredibly hot. 

No one had ever picked you up like that. Not so easily. Not like it was instinct, like your body was something he wanted close, something he was proud to hold. 

You feel his lips leave yours, pausing for a few seconds.

“Is this okay?” He searches your face for any kind of discomfort, reject. Something to tell him to stop. His eyes begging for your answer to be yes as his hand traces circles on your thigh. 

Your cheeks burned, but you nodded, breathless. “Yeah.” 

The corner of his mouth lifted into the faintest, satisfied smile before he leaned in again, pressing closer, kisses trailing along your jaw as his hands stayed steady on your thighs. Secure, reverent, sure.

And in that moment, perched on the counter with his body between your knees and his attention wholly, unmistakably on you, you felt wanted in a way that made your chest ache. In the best possible way.

He kissed you again. Unhurried this time. Not desperate. Not consuming. Just… thorough. His lips moved against yours like he was savoring every second, every quiet sound you made when he tilted his head just right. One of his hands slid up, thumb brushing softly along your jaw, cradling your face as if you were something precious.

You melted into it without meaning to.

“That’s it,” he whispered between kisses, almost to himself. “So sweet…”

His mouth lingered at the corner of your lips, then traced a slow path along your cheek, your jaw, down to the sensitive spot on your neck. Each kiss felt intentional, placed with care, like he wanted you to feel seen, chosen.

Your vision was getting blurry. The soft press of his lips littering your face and neck causing a build up of warmth in your lower stomach. 

Your hands fisted in his hoodie, grounding yourself in the warmth of him, the quiet certainty in the way he touched you. When you kissed him back–slow, open, trusting– he let out a breath that sounded almost relieved.

He pulled back just enough to look at you.

His gaze softened when it lingered on your face, your round cheeks flushed, your lips parted from his kisses. His thumb brushed gently beneath your eye, then along your cheek.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, no hesitation, no doubt. “I hope you know that.”

Heat bloomed in your chest. He kissed you again. Deeper now, but still controlled, like he was holding himself back out of respect rather than lack of desire. The intimacy simmered between you, a steady burn that made your pulse race without ever tipping into something frantic.

This time you had pulled away, teary eyed, flushed cheeks and lips swollen with the intimate kisses. 

“Xavier…..” You pause, hesitation creeping up on you for sabotage. “I need you.”

His eyes widen softly, one of his hands softly caressing your thigh.

“Please.” You beg, pressing a soft kiss against his jaw. 

He wastes no time in fulfilling your plea, his hands reaching to the hem of his hoodie, taking it off over his head.

“I’m here,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you.” He whispers softly into the charged air between you. 

His hoodie is forgotten, discarded somewhere on your apartment floor as his hands reach to unbutton your cardigan.

Gentle, precise. As if he practiced for when the opportunity to make you feel good presented itself. Now that your cardigan was rid of, it left you in your bra, the skirt you had decided to wear that day still clinging onto your waist.

Xavier exhales softly, eyes analyzing every soft curve of your body.

“You’re breathtaking.” He says softly, before trailing gentle, loving kisses down your body. Every kiss felt like reassurance. Every touch felt like intention. 

And as he stayed there between your knees, close but careful, whispering soft praise like it was the most natural thing in the world, it became clear, neither of you needed to rush. 

You reach behind your back and unclasp the plain bra you had opted on wearing. A clear mistake considering the position you were in right now. It falls and you take off the straps binding to your arms.

He looks at you like he just witnessed a miracle. Something so beautiful that it sent a shiver down his spine and straight to his cock. 

Not even a few seconds after you had taken off your bra, Xavier had managed to start tending to your breasts. Saliva coating the soft peaks as he nibbles softly at the soft skin. It was an erotic sight. But the awestruck cloud in his eyes made the moment more loving than it needed to be. 

“Xavier…” You mewl out softly at the teasing movements of his mouth. He groans in response, busying himself with worshipping your chest.

Once he deems his work to be enough, he pulls away, looking up at your flushed face. His eyes have always been the most gorgeous shade of blue, but now, they seemed darker. Almost as if he’s allowing his primal urges to take over for his actions. 

You rest your arms around his strong neck, pulling him softly back towards your face. 

You kissed him again, a little bolder this time, letting yourself lean into him fully. He responded instantly, a quiet sound leaving him as his arms drew you closer, hands firm and reassuring where they held you. The kiss grew heavier, slower but fuller, as if neither of you wanted to rush yet neither could pull away.

“Xavier, please…” You whimper softly between kisses.

His lips leave out a sound similar to a needy moan as he deepens the kiss, tongues fighting for fulfilment.

His slender hand moves from your hip, to the sensitive skin on the inside of your thigh. So close to where your body needed him the most. Brushing against the soft stretch marks littering your thighs. Your mouth lets out soft pleas at his teasing touch, your core aching to be filled.  

His finger tugs softly on your panties, as you lift yourself up slightly to let him slip them off. As soon as they’re off, his fingers brush against your lips, spreading the embarrassing amount of wetness across the sensitive area. 

“So wet…. Just for me.” He whispers gently, as if his words weren’t directed at you but at your leaking pussy. 

With a soft squelch, one finger enters your hole. Gently grazing the tight gummy walls of your pussy. As if by instinct, your mouth produces soft moans at the underwhelming pressure, his long finger thrusting and curling at a slowly agonizing pace. 

“You’re so perfect…” The soft words leave his lips, contrasting with the lewd wet sounds coming from the way his finger thrusts testingly into your cunt. 

You whimper at his slow pace, clinging onto him as if physical closeness will dull down the aching feeling of need.

“Xavier, please.” You mewl out. “More..” The quiet words slip out of your lips as you grind down against his hand, needing some sort of friction. His brows furrow in concentration, prioritising whatever you crave from him rather than his own pleasure. 

His lips press against your forehead gently before another finger enters your soakingly wet entrance, a soft squelch echoing between the proximity of your desperate bodies. A moan leaves your mouth as Xavier’s pace increases, his fingers now carefully grazing your cervix with each thrust. 

You hadn’t felt like this in so long, the sensitivity making the experience better as Xavier’s fingers scissor and stretch out your walls. You rest your head in the crook of his neck, lightly biting down on his sensitive skin, lewd whimpers leaving your lips as you feel that familiar warm knot building up. 

“You’re doing so well for me, starlight.” His words vibrate through your body, your walls fluttering around his fingers. Your breathing progresses into mere moans and soft groans as you feel yourself come closer and closer towards that sweet release. 

“Xavier..” You breathe out, the knot that had built up in your stomach seconds away from bursting. He exhales through his nose, his thumb joins in, rubbing soothing circles on your clit. Careful and precise, seeking your release as if it’s his own. As if just the sight of your blissed out face is enough to make him cum. 

“C’mon starlight, come for me..” He whispers gently as your legs tremble on the counter, the pleasure from the additional stimulation and the softness in his voice fueling the overwhelming knot. 

Release washes over you in a warm bloom. Your walls tighten around his fingers before coating them in your inevitable release. Heavy breaths leave your lips as Xavier continues to stimulate your cunt, letting you ride out your high. His eyes make contact with yours. Eyes full of nothing but the loving infatuation that led to this situation. 

As his fingers leave your wetness, evidence of your pleasure glistens on the soft skin before he brings them up to his mouth. Sucking and savouring the taste of you as if it’s sacred. 

He hums softly. “You taste so sweet.” As soft as his words are, the lustful glint in his eyes is hard not to notice.

Your lips are swollen, previously bitten to hide your own moans, eyes glistening with slight tears, and round cheeks flushed. Xavier’s eyes flick over your current state, analyzing your face and the irregular rise and fall of your chest. His ears are pink at the tips, the marks you had left on him blooming into darker blotches, like avoidance of self restraint. Eyes a hazy blue and half lidded as they maintain contact with yours. 

You swallowed, heart fluttering painfully in your chest. The words came out quieter than you meant them to. “Are you sure you want this?”

His brow creased. Not in frustration, but concern. He leaned back just enough to look at you properly, eyes searching your face like he was back at the library reading books from its core to the edges.

You hesitated, then whispered the real question.

“…Are you sure you want me?”

Xavier lifted one hand to your cheek, thumb brushing softly over the round curve there, tender and unhurried. His touch felt deliberate, grounding. Like he wanted you to feel every ounce of certainty behind it. 

“I’ve been sure,” He said quietly, his cheek flushing softly with a rosy pink. 

Your breath caught. He leaned closer, noses brushing, voice low and steady. “I didn’t come here hoping for this. I came because I like being around you. Because you make me feel calm. Because you smile at me like I’m safe.”

His other hand squeezed gently at your thigh, reassuring, warm. “This–” he gestured faintly between you, “—only happens because it’s you.”

Your eyes burned at the mix of his words and the way his silver strands of hair wavered across his cerulean eyes. 

“I want you,” he continued, without hesitation. “Exactly as you are. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, then lingered just shy of your lips, giving you space. Choice.

“If you want me to stop,” He said, “I will. And if you want me to stay…” His thumb traced a small, comforting arc against your skin. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Something in your chest loosened, like a mosaic you’ve spent so long piecing together, and finally all the shards had been drawn together.

You leaned in again. Kissing him with the same passion he had showed you. The same want. The same choice. Xavier inhaled sharply through his nose, like the contact surprised him all over again, and then he immediately kissed you back, hands returning to their previous activity of exploring your body. 

This kiss is wet, laced with the certainty you needed to indulge into your desires. His mouth moved against yours with aching patience, lips parting just enough to invite you closer. When you followed that silent request, the sound he made was quiet but unmistakable, low in his throat, like relief. His hand slid up to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth as if he couldn’t help himself. The kiss deepened. Not frantic, but hungry in a way that made your knees feel weak even perched on the counter.

He was vocal. Soft whimpers and sounds of pleasure entwining into the sloppy kisses. Every breath you shared felt close. Every brush of lips felt intentional.

Xavier kissed you like he wanted to take his time, like he was learning you. Pressing in, easing back, then returning with just a little more need each time. His lips were warm, slightly parted, leaving you breathless as he lingered, savoring the way you responded. 

When you made a soft sound against his mouth, he answered it immediately, kissing you deeper, slower, like he didn’t want the moment to end. His grip tightened just a little at your waist holding you there like you belonged exactly where you were. 

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in closer as the heels of your feet dig into his muscular back. 

His hands move towards your thighs and grip them, before lifting you off of the counter. A soft squeal leaves your mouth as you cling onto his body.

“Where’s your bedroom starlight?” He asks softly, his hands not able to fully wrap around your thighs as he grips the soft flesh. You blink a few times, processing his question before answering.

“Down the corridor, to the left.” You mumble softly, he presses a soft kiss against your cheek before carrying you towards your bedroom.

You felt weird, just his raw strength was more impressive than anything any of your exes had done to you before. You felt wanted. He didn’t have to carry you. You would wobble a bit, yeah, especially after that previous orgasm, but you could still walk. He just decided to do it. As small as that action is. To you? It definitely wasn’t. It fueled your desire even more, if that was even possible. 

Xavier softly dropped you onto the soft mattress of your bed, the pink sheets and unhealthy amount of plush toys contrasting with the course of action you both had decided on. 

He looms over you, his legs kneeling between yours. 

“Can I…?” He softly tugs at your skirt which was by his definition, in the way. 

You nod, arms resting around his neck. He leans down and presses a soft kiss on your neck. 

“I need words, starlight.” He whispers. 

Your mouth moves before you can even think about it. “Yes.” You bite your lip softly. “I need you, Xavier..” Your voice is gentle and needy, and it clearly gets his attention. 

His skillful fingers unzip your skirt. You raise your hips slightly as Xavier slides the fabric off of you. As soon as the cold air hits your cunt you whimper softly, gripping onto him like a lifeline. 

Xavier exhales softly, eyes focused on the way your sopping pussy glistens in the soft bedroom light. Your walls flutter around nothing, waiting for his cock to replace that void. He reaches towards the button and zip of his jeans, and in a matter of seconds, his jeans are somewhere on your bedroom floor. 

You knew he was hard, you could see it when he had his fingers in you on the kitchen counter. But now you could see his outline, his boxers covering his hard cock. And boy was it big. It’s scary. 

Once his boxers come off, you can’t help but admire his length. It was just as pretty as him. Long, but not too thick. Pink and angry tip producing small beads of glistening pre cum. A small patch of silver hair trailing from his navel to his aching hardness, something you had failed to notice before. You were silently thanking the universe for blessing you with such a beautiful man. Inside and out. 

The corners of his lips curl up into a soft smile as he looms over you again. You press your thighs together on instinct, biting your lip softly. 

Xavier’s hands reach out and softly pry your thighs apart, tracing over the stretch marks littering the inside of your thighs. 

“So beautiful….” He whispers, before taking his throbbing length into the palm of his hand and pumping it twice. 

He presses softly against your entrance, tip teasing and spreading the accumulated wetness. Soft whimpers leave his lips at the slight contact as pleas leave your mouth. 

“Xavier please-” You don’t even get to finish your sentence before he pushes in, not fully, his tip now surrounded by the warm walls of your pussy. 

He kisses you, needingly. The kiss grew wetter, more open, all heat and shared breath, until pulling away felt impossible. Even when he finally rested his forehead against yours, lips still brushing yours with every word, he didn’t move far.

Xavier pushes into you. Bottoming out in one go. You moan loudly at the intrusion, a slight sting pulsing through your core.

“Fuck you’re so tight…” He whispers “Take as much time as you need, I’m not going anywhere.” 

You nod softly at his words, the sounds of your soft breaths echoing through each other's brains. After a couple of minutes, the pain subsides, converting into pleasure. You whimper softly, grinding up against him as he moans. 

“You can move..” You say quietly. Xavier nods.

His thrusts are slow at first, testing and careful, making sure he’s not hurting you. But with another tempting grind against his pelvis he increases his pace.

It feels like heaven, like your souls are finally resonating. Fusing together. His soft moans and whimpers are muffled as he presses soft kisses against your face, trailing down towards your neck and chest. His thrusts are more erratic now, chasing your release as well as his own. 

Your soft stomach and plump figure bounces softly as the tip of his cock kisses your cervix over and over again. Loud and erotic moans filtering from your lips. Repeating his name like it’s a prayer while his veins mold your walls, so by the end of today they would only remember him. 

As his pace reaches an inhumane speed and depth, your eyes roll to the back of your head, drool slowly slipping from the corner of your lips.

“You feel so good starlight..” Xavier whimpers out. His lip quivers slightly from the pleasure. 

“So beautiful like this, you look ethereal…” Gentle praises leave his mouth as his thrusts grow sloppier. Your warm and welcoming cunt pulses around his length, your legs wrapped around his torso as he pulls you closer towards him. Hitting a new angle which made your jaw slack and your walls tighten.

Your mouth fails to produce words anymore, broken syllables of his name and moans falling from your lips. 

Sweat carves around his nose with every thrust, strands of shiny silver sticking to his forehead as his eyes stay focused on the way your body moves beneath him. Almost hypnotic. His cheeks are flushed, soft whimpers and moans leaving his swollen lips as his hands trace over your body. Connecting pleasure points like constellations.

You feel that all too familiar knot building up in your lower stomach, threatening to burst due to the overstimulation. Your pussy clenches around his length, tightening the space even further. 

“Fuck… if you keep doing that, I won’t last any longer..” He says with a soft grunt. 

Your nails dig into his strong back, the pleasure overpowering all senses. Your teary eyes search over his face before settling on his eyes, clouded with bliss. 

“Xavier I think I’m gonna..” 

He grunts softly as his pace grows unsteady. “Me too starlight, me too..” 

“I’ll pull out before I- “ You kiss him sloppily and Xavier lets out a small muffled moan, your drool mixing in with the wetness of the kiss before pulling away. 

“Don’t, I’m on the pill..” You say softly “I want you to come inside me.”  You whisper into his ear, your breath moving unsteadily. 

He groans softly and nods, his thrusts becoming increasingly wanton. His mouth finds your breasts again, sucking on one of them and rolling the nipple on his lips. Muffling his noises and salivating on the soft skin of your breast.

Seconds later, a warm feeling blossoms in your core. Loud and indecipherable whines spill from your lips as you cum around his length. You cling onto his shoulders as your orgasm hits you, the lewd squelches and his soft whimpers pushing it further towards overstimulating bliss.  

A few more sloppy thrusts and Xavier’s hips still, a needy moan leaving his lips as another wave of warmth spreads through your core. This time his release flowers in the depths of your walls, painting them a cloudy white. His hips manage a few more gentle thrusts before his body collapses, avoiding your sensitive body and laying down beside you. 

Heavy breaths rise and fall from both of your chests, the cloudy smell of sex and the faint scent of the abandoned tea surrounding your aching bodies. You were still catching your breath. The world felt hazy, edges blurred, like everything had slowed just for you. Xavier didn’t move away.

He stayed close, one hand still warm and steady at your side, the other brushing lightly along your arm like he was grounding you back into yourself. When you turned to him, you found him already watching you. His expression softened in a way that made your throat tighten. Like something in him had gone quiet, satisfied not just physically, but emotionally. Like seeing you like this -relaxed, flushed, safe- meant more to him than anything else that had happened. 

“You okay?” he asked quietly, his eyes glossed and his cheekbones flushed with a rosy hue. 

You nodded, a small, shy smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah.”

His shoulders eased at once. Relief flickered across his face before he smiled softly, gentle and almost reverent. He leaned in just enough to press his forehead to yours, breathing you in. 

The moment stretched. No rush, no need to fill the silence. You simply looked at each other, sharing something unspoken and fragile and real. His thumb brushed slow circles where he held you, absentminded, affectionate. It seemed like particles of light were floating through the air.

Wait, no, they were actual fragments of light. His evol activating by accident as he embraces you. His face seemed to glow. The light drifted lazily around you, warm instead of blinding, like fireflies caught in a held breath. It brushed your skin without heat, settling against you as naturally as his arms did. 

You realized he hadn’t meant to do it. Xavier noticed a second later. His eyes widened just slightly before softening again, the glow along his skin gentler now, responding not to intent. But to feeling. To you.

“It’s beautiful.” You said softly, the glow refracting through the darkened room. That made him still. The light shimmered brighter for just a moment, then steadied, pulsing softly in time with his breath. His thumb continued its absent circles at your side, familiar now. When he looked at you again, his expression was open in a way that made your chest ache. Unguarded, hopeful, quietly brave.

“Can I be your boyfriend?” His words are simple and gentle. The way he worded it made it seem as if he was asking you for permission, for him to be yours if you deemed him worthy. The question hung between you like something sanctified.

You saw it then. Not just affection, but respect. The way he waited, like your answer mattered more than his courage in asking. Like he was offering himself, not taking. Who could say no to that? His eyes are soft, gently studying your face with his melting gaze. 

You reached out without thinking, cupping his lightly glowing cheek. The light warmed your palm, gentle as a heartbeat. He leaned into your touch immediately, eyelids fluttering like he’d been waiting for permission to do that too. 

“Yes,” you whispered, the timbre of your voice soothing down any doubts he may have had. 

The word felt small, but it landed like a promise.

His breath left him in a quiet rush, shoulders sagging with relief. The glow brightened, spilling softly around you both, and when he smiled it was slow, genuine, a little awed. Like he couldn’t quite believe he was allowed to be happy like this.

“Yeah?” he asked softly, just to be sure. Frantically searching your face for signs of rejection or discomfort.

You nodded, the corners of your mouth lifting into a mellow smile. “Yeah.”

He let out a soft laugh, forehead dropping gently to the crook of your neck. “Then… I’ll do my best,” he stated. “To be someone you feel safe with. Someone you can lean on.”

His light wrapped around you then. Not dazzling, not overwhelming. Just warm, dawning in from the universe.

And as he held you, the fragments of light drifted down around you, dissolving quietly as his breathing evened out. His head rested on your chest, ear pressed against your steady pulse. Eyes closed, a soft smile still curved at his lips. Content in a way that felt deep and earned.

Whatever had sparked his evol faded naturally.

What stayed was real….

“What do you mean they're to duel?”

Your voice came out harsh, slicing through the hush of the rain-drenched corridor.

“Aye, they've got him in the south courtyard of the Qin estate, pacing the tree at dusk.” The soft words of the maid fell heavy in the pit of your stomach, more final than any bell toll.

“That’s any minute now!”

You forewent the outerwear, heart pounding out of your chest before you even started running. Every step was a jolt, the panic blooming wild and hot beneath your ribs.

The rain beat its cold rhythm, making the ground too pulpy to sprint. You slipped many times, mud clinging to your skirts, the world a blur of wet stone and tangled roots as you scrambled for stability. Your desperation lent you speed, but it couldn’t conjure grace.

You feared the absolute worst the closer you got. Passing the gate, you reached the small heath of the south courtyard, your gaze narrowing to a smoky-orange glow in the deluge.

Two silhouettes faced away from each other, their pistols at the ready, soaked to the bone. The world tilted, your heart a frantic metronome ticking the urgency upwards into your throat.

“Daniel!”

Your breath caught as relief swept you, making it just in time before the triggers pulled.

You stumbled forward, throwing yourself between them, not caring for how desperate you looked.

“Please! Stop!”

Holding out your arms, you attempted to shield Daniel from the stranger’s aim, your sleeves soaked, fists clumsy with cold. You squinted through the rain, trying to get a better look at the man your brother faced, but the constant droplets running into your eyes made him a stinging white blur.

“Dammit, sister, what are you doing here?”

Daniel hissed as he stood beside you, his hair plastered to his brow.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

You barely managed the words, lungs burning, rain stinging your face.

The other man stepped forward leisurely, his presence unhurried, almost theatrical. The moonlight snared in his silver hair, turning him spectral in the downpour.

“Mr. Livingston, I do wonder if you had called your wife to make an entrance as dramatic as this just to sway my decision.”

His accent was precise, each syllable dropped like a gauntlet.

“Never, Sir Sylus. And she is not my wife, but my simple sister.”

“Sister?” The man's eyes haltingly raked over you, lingering, an intimate trespass in the open rain.

“Yes. I'm sorry, I'll send her away so we can continue.”

Daniel’s voice faltered, but you stood your ground.

“You will not!” you barked, the sound surprising even yourself. The silver-haired man arched a brow, almost amused.

“Oh? And for what reason should I entertain your authority, miss?”

His tone, smooth as wet stone, slid over your skin.

“I have no authority, sir.”

The pause bristled between you, charged with more than the pending lightning. You only bowed your head momentarily, a sign of respect before the disrespect.

“My brother can not participate in this duel. He is the only man of our house, and I fear what would happen to our dear mother lest he not survive your shot.”

You held his weary gaze, lifting your chin. “And something tells me you won't miss.”

The corner of his mouth quirked, somewhere between mockery and admiration, bemused all the same.

Your throat tightened as you finally took him in. The cut of his white coat, locks of silver combed back, the gloved precision of his hands, the strange serenity about him. A man too handsome to be real, and too still to be safe.

He seemed to sense your brief amnesia as you stared at him, clearing his throat. “Your brother has insulted me by trying to con me. I seek recompense.”

“And I will compensate for my insolence, Sir Sylus.” Daniel called from behind you.

“Take me.”

The words spilled from your mouth before you could second-guess them.

“What?”

Your brother stepped in front of you, looking at you like you were deranged, and you cursed him for being right. “Are you stupid? You can't be in a duel!”

“I would never duel a woman,” Sylus murmured. The answer was simple, but his eyes lingered, calculating.

“Then something else.”

You pushed past your brother and stood almost face to face with the man. The rain carved rivers down your skin, chilled your bones, but your resolve felt hot and reckless, or perhaps it was proximity to the vertically blessed man– God he was tall– but you kicked that notion away.

“Something that is of equal weight. I will take his place.”

“You can't–” Daniel started again.

Sir Sylus held up a hand. “And what do you propose, miss?”

“I–I don't know…but I am at your disposal..” you regretted the choice of wording, you did not know this man, or exactly how cruel his affinity for power over others was, but you were desperate. And desperation breeds poor choices.

Daniel clutched your shoulder as the other man's attention strayed off to the distant treeline, deep in thought and giving no hints. He was an impossible puzzle, yet you felt dangerously close to solving him. And that glimmer of victory will lead you to places no sane person would go.

For a heartbeat, nothing moved but the rain. Sylus’ gaze went back to holding yours, his expression unreadable, as though he were deciding whether you were serious or just a curious kind of mad. Then, wordlessly, he holstered his pistol.

A slow, glacial smile curved his mouth. The rain painted his lashes black around crimson irises, giving him a devil’s beauty.

“Come,” he said finally. “This weather will wring the sense from both of you. We’ll speak inside.”

Your brother bristled. “I’m not leaving–”

“You’ll do as you please, Mr. Livingston,” Sylus interrupted coolly, turning his back as if your brother’s opinion were wind. “But she,” his eyes cut toward you again, “has just offered herself as collateral, and I intend to understand the weight of that statement before I accept it.”

The silver-haired man turned and strode through the rain, boots soundless against the flooded stones. You hesitated, glancing at Daniel– who looked half-ready to drag you away– but something in Sylus’s composure pulled you after him. Not fear, strangely, not yet. Curiosity, perhaps. Or some instinct that at the very least, he wouldn’t shoot you.

At least, not in the courtyard.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧

The iron gates of his estate loomed just beyond the hedge. By the time you crossed the threshold, the downpour had softened to a hum, muffled by the canopy of old trees. Sylus led without looking back, past trimmed gardens now drowned in ambient moonlight, into a manor that smelled faintly of cedar smoke and leather.

Inside, warmth struck like a welcomed revelation. The entryway was deep ebony wood and firelight, the hearth alive with restless logs and embers. You shivered despite it, your soaked dress clinging indecently to your shape.

“Hmm…you should remove your clothes before you catch a fever,” Sylus said over his shoulder, voice level.

“I'm fine– just need to be near the fireplace..” you protested, not wanting him to start picturing you in a state of undress.

“Suit yourself. There.” He gestured to a chair near the fire. “Sit.”

“I am quite fine standing.” you moved to stand near the stone hearth.

He regarded you, the faintest glimmer of amusement at the corner of his mouth. “You mistake courtesy for command, miss. I’d rather not have my new debtor faint at my feet before I’ve heard her terms.”

Daniel entered behind you, dripping and furious. “You can’t keep her here.”

Sylus turned leisurely toward him. “I’m not keeping her anywhere, Mr. Livingston. Your sister has already decided to involve herself in a matter of honour. I am merely offering a roof while we determine what that means.”

He crossed the room to pour himself a measure of brandy, the amber glinting in the firelight. His movements were deliberate, elegant, the kind that made every silence feel intentional.

“Now,” he said, eyes never leaving you as he sipped, “you claim your brother is the only man of your house. Yet you run through a storm to stand before loaded pistols. That’s a curious definition of fragility.”

“I did what I had to.”

“And that,” Sylus murmured, “is precisely what intrigues me.”

He set the glass down, the sound harsh in the hush and rose from his seat.

“Tell me, Miss Livingston… when you say you are at my disposal– what limits do you imagine that allows me?”

The question hung between you, heavy as thunder, as the rain whispered against the windows. Daniel took a step forward, but Sylus’s glance stopped him cold. Not threateningly, just certainty from a man accustomed to obedience.

You swallowed, unsure if the shiver that followed was from fear of things escalating again or the heat of the fire dispelling the frost from your marrow.

“I meant only that I would do what is necessary to resolve this.”

“Necessary,” he repeated softly, tasting the word. “Such a small word for such a vast promise.”

He stepped closer then, the scent of brandy and rain mixing with smoke.

“Be careful with your bargains, Miss Livingston. The night is young, and I have a talent for collecting debts.”

Daniel stepped between you. “That’s enough. This farce ends now.”

Sylus’s gaze flicked to him, unbothered. “You should go.”

“If my sister stays, then I–”

“She won’t be unattended,” Sylus said coolly. “There are servants in this house, Mr. Livingston. I’m not a savage.”

Daniel hesitated, before finally lowering his gaze. Defying Sir Sylus was one thing; defying him under his own roof was another entirely.

“Mr. Livingston,” Sylus said, quiet but final, “go home. You’ve already fired one shot at honour today; don’t make me return it.”

The tone left no room for protest. Daniel’s jaw flexed, torn between fury and fear. He looked at you, eyes pleading. You gave a small nod, enough to say ‘trust me’. With a spat curse, he left, his footsteps retreating down the hall until the echo dissolved into the steady rain.

Silence settled again.

You turned to Sylus, your pulse still racing. “You do enjoy theatrics, Sir Sylus.”

“I prefer precision,” he replied, pouring another measure of brandy. “Theatrics are merely how people misinterpret control.”

He took a slow sip, eyes tracing the outline of your sodden form as if studying a puzzle. “You’ll catch cold if you insist on standing there looking defiant. Change into something dry. I’ll have a maid show you to a room.”

“I’m not–”

“Consider it an order,” he interrupted softly, his mouth curling faintly. “a clause in our contract. You’ll find my brand of hospitality is much the same as my gunmanship– efficient, and rarely repeated.”

Before you could answer, a young maid appeared at the door as if summoned by the air itself. “This way, miss.”

You followed her through corridors of dark wood and dim sconces, your wet shoes leaving ghostly prints on the floor. The house was a museum of restraint, each portrait severe, each object deliberately placed. When you reached the guest chamber, a fire already burned. A set of garments had been laid out: a silk shift, soft and dry, far finer than anything meant for practicality, and likely belonging to no one living here– and a heavy robe beside it, folded almost as an afterthought.

Your chest tightened.

Surely this was a coincidence. He couldn’t have meant this. A house like his would have drawers full of linen; silk was simply what had been at hand. Or perhaps he’d only wanted you dry, not dripping rainwater onto his rugs like a drowned cat.

And yet.

The thought crept in uninvited, curling warm and treacherous beneath your ribs: or perhaps he knew exactly what he was doing.

Perhaps this was part of the debt already being tallied.

Perhaps he thought you had offered more than words in the courtyard–

No. You shook your head, breath unsteady. You had offered nothing of the sort.

…Hadn’t you?

Your gaze lingered on the shift. On how little there was of it. On how easily it would erase the last, thin barrier between propriety and intention. Changing would mean conceding something– if not to him, then to yourself.

And still, your hands moved.

You changed quickly, silk cool against your skin before the fire’s warmth chased the chill from your limbs. The robe followed, belted a touch too loosely. Comfort returned, but it did nothing to quiet the hum beneath it.

Curiosity tugged harder than warmth ever could, and it was pulling you into his orbit with rapidly eroding resistance.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧

On your way back, the flicker of light from a half-open door caught your eye.

You paused.

Inside, the room was… astonishing. Walls lined with gleaming steel and polished handles; blades of every make and age, some ceremonial, others unmistakably meant for use. Pistols, rapiers, daggers, each displayed with obsessive care.

Your breath hitched. You stepped in, drawn as if under a spell.

One knife, its curved blade catching the firelight, called to you. You traced the air above it, reverent, the edge whispering temptation to touch it.

“Do you like weapons?”

You froze. The voice came from behind you, smooth, quiet, and wholly unmistakable.

Turning, you found Sylus in the doorway, his coat discarded, shirt still damp dark and open at the throat.

“They’re all right,” you said after a heartbeat, regaining your breath. “I prefer blades.”

“Do you?” He entered, steps slow and deliberate, eyes following your fingers as they hovered near the dagger’s hilt. “Most who visit this room pretend not to feel discomfort. You seem… at home.”

You smiled faintly, though your pulse throbbed in your throat. “Steel is honest, Sir Sylus. It gives what you ask of it. No more, no less.”

His lips curved, not quite a smile. “Spoken like someone who understands the true weight of a weapon.”

He circled you, his presence brushing the air close to your back. “Tell me then, Miss Livingston– when you claimed to be at my disposal… What were your limits?”

You turned to face him, the firelight pooling between you. “There are none,” you said, the smirk tugging before you could stop it.

That earned you his full attention. The distance between you shortened by the span of a breath.

“No limits?” His voice lowered, the edges a growl. “Then I should warn you– I have a habit of testing claims until they prove true.”

“And I,” you murmured, chin tilting upward, “have a habit of meaning what I say.”

He regarded you for a long moment, the tension thick as candle smoke. The rain outside deepened to a stifle, leaving only the sound of your shared breath and the faint metallic ring of the room itself.

When he finally spoke, it was soft, almost tender.

“Then perhaps, Miss Livingston, we understand each other better than I thought.”

The pause between you stretched, long enough for the rain to fade into background music.

Sylus’s gaze flicked to the knife you’d been admiring.

“A yataghan,” he said, tone mild as he took it from its stand and placed the ornate haft in your palm. “Ottoman design. Balanced to favor speed over strength. Most would choose the rapier for elegance, but I’ve always admired a weapon that favors nerve.”

You turned the hilt delicately in your fingers. “Perhaps I prefer honesty over showmanship.”

“Honesty?” He moved closer. “From a Livingston?”

His hand brushed yours as he reached for the blade. His fingers lingered, the heat of him radiating from even there.

You smiled softly. “From a Sylus, I’d expect vanity, not prejudice.”

He chuckled– low, rich, dangerous. “Vanity keeps men alive. Prejudice only keeps them entertained.”

The blade slid from your hold into his, and for a breath he examined it, head tilted in appreciation. Then, he laid it back onto the rack with care and turned his full attention on you.

“You hold a knife as if you’d used one,” he murmured.

“Perhaps I have.”

His brows lifted, intrigued. “On what, I wonder– fruit, flesh, or pride?”

“Depends who’s deserving.”

The corner of his mouth twitched again, that not-quite-smile you're starting to crave. He stepped closer until you could see the pulse beat at his throat. His hand found the edge of your sleeve, tracing the fabric between thumb and forefinger, a gesture so deceptively idle it was almost polite.

“You strike bargains with strangers, you handle weapons like a soldier, and yet…” His fingers grazed your wrist this time, testing and light. “You tremble when I barely touch you.”

“I’m cold…previously soaked through and now standing beside a man who collects instruments of murder,” you said evenly, though your inflections betrayed you. “Surely a little trembling is excusable.”

He laughed softly, the sound curling like smoke. “You wound me. I thought you found blades honest.”

“Honest, yes. Harmless, no.”

“Then what am I?”

You met his eyes, steady. “Undecided.”

That earned you another slow step forward, until his chest nearly brushed your defiant chin. His next words were a whisper:

“Then let me make my case.”

His hand found yours again, deliberate this time, palm sliding against your soft skin. The contact was both an invitation and a claim, tracing the boundary of what you’d offered.

“And if I said my request begins with this?” he asked.

You didn’t flinch. “Then you’ve barely begun testing my limits.”

For the first time, his breath faltered, only slightly, like a sword nicking air instead of flesh. He smiled against it, the tension now mutual, humming.

“Careful, Miss Livingston,” he said. “There’s a fine line between courage and curiosity.”

“I’m aware,” you murmured, leaning just enough for your words to touch his collarbone. “That’s where I live.”

Another third trimester pause.

You drew a slow breath, steadying your voice though the air between you already trembled, and broke the water.

“Sir Sylus,” you said, tone soft but sure, “you still haven’t told me what you mean to claim as compensation.”

He hummed, a low sound that almost passed for thought. His thumb still traced slow circles against your wrist. “Haven’t I?”

“No.” You lifted your chin, meeting his eyes squarely. “And I prefer to know the nature of a debt before I attempt to pay it.”

He studied you for a heartbeat longer, that same unreadable expression poised between amusement and hunger. Then he leaned in, his voice near your ear.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Your breath caught. “No,” you managed.

“Then,” he murmured, “allow me to show you.”

He didn’t move quickly, giving you ample time to back away, though you both knew you wouldn't. He closed the remaining space as if it were always meant to vanish. The faintest tilt of his head, the faintest exhale against your cheek, closer and closer, until your words faltered on your lips and he replaced them.

The kiss was nothing of the storm outside: no violence, only gravity. Warmth and steadiness, as though he’d been waiting for you to ask the right question. His fingers trailed from your wrist to the small of your back, drawing you closer with a gentleness that carried its own command.

When you finally drew back, pushing off his chest, breath shallow, he still held you there, keeping his mouth a whisper from yours.

“Now,” he said quietly, “we can begin to discuss the terms.”

He captured your soft lips again with a breathless groan, deepening the kiss, certain and unrushed, like something both of you had been circling toward since the rain first began. The warmth of him was startlingly addictive, his hand steady at your jaw, guiding you to give rather than taking.

Rain whispered against the windows, your breath loud in your ears. When he finally broke the kiss, it wasn’t distance he sought, only so he'd have space enough to really look at you.

“Be certain, Miss Livingston,” he said softly, the words ghosting your lips. “Once I claim what’s mine, I rarely give it back.”

Your fingers curled in the ruffled front of his shirt, the fabric damp beneath your hands. “Then I suppose I’ll have to take something in return.”

His eyes flickered with amusement– and something darker. “A dangerous thought.”

“Only if you resist.”

He laughed under his breath, that sound half-sigh, half-possession, and pressed his forehead to yours. “I never resist what wants to be taken.”

The air thickened again, that invisible current drawing you closer until every inch of restraint was tested and found wanting. His hands traced the path of your shoulders, over silk still warm from the fire, pausing where pulse met skin as he cradled your head.

No words followed, because none were needed. The tension that had begun as a duel of wills dissolved into a mutual slow surrender written in the language of touch and breath.

The space between you shrank until there was nowhere left for doubt to live. His breath warmed your cheek, his thumb stilling at your pulse as if he were counting something– heartbeats, perhaps, or the seconds until you pulled away.

You didn’t.

That, more than anything, seemed to decide him.

Something shifted in his gaze, the last trace of careful distance giving way to intent. His hand slid from your shoulder to your waist, an assurance that if you swayed, he would hold you, and more. That you were no longer negotiating from opposite sides of the line, but standing on it together.

“Say the word,” he murmured, not quite a challenge, not quite a mercy.

You answered by tilting your chin, by closing the final inch yourself.

That was all the permission he took.

He claimed your mouth again, this time with a hunger that matched the storm still growling beyond the tall windows, but he didn’t rush it. The kiss unfolded slowly, deliberately– his lips brushing yours once, twice, before parting them with the lightest pressure of tongue. He tasted the rain still clinging to you, the faint salt and sweetness, and let out a low, satisfied hum that vibrated straight down your spine. His hands stayed high at first, respectful, cradling your jaw, thumb tracing the line of your cheekbone, memorizing the shape of your face before he allowed himself anything more.

When he finally deepened the kiss it was languid, almost reverent, tongue stroking yours in long, lazy glides that made your knees soften. Only then did his palms begin to wander. Every firm caress of your softness pulling contented moans from him– sliding down the column of your throat, over collarbones, then cupping the weight of your breasts through the silk shift. The fabric was so thin it might as well have been nothing; he could feel every tremor, every tightening peak as his thumbs circled your nipples with maddening patience.

You arched into the touch without meaning to, a new soft sound escaping against his mouth. He smiled into the kiss– small, predatory, pleased.

“I don’t think you have any idea how much I’m holding back,” he murmured, lips barely leaving yours. The words were quiet, almost gentle, but the rough edge beneath them made your pulse stutter.

You answered by slipping your hands beneath the open ruffles of his shirt, palms gliding over warm skin, feeling the solid wall of his chest rise and fall a little faster than before. Your nails dragged lightly down the center of him and he hissed softly, the sound swallowed by your next kiss. He shrugged the damp linen off without breaking contact, letting it fall forgotten to the floor so you could explore the hard planes, the faint ridges of old scars, the way every muscle flexed under your touch like he was fighting not to grab you harder.

He lifted you then, strong hands sliding under your thighs to cradle you against him as he set you on the edge of the heavy oak cabinet. Your legs parted on instinct and he stepped between them, the thick, insistent ridge of his cock pressing against your core through wool breeches and silk. Even separated by layers you could feel how big he was– long, heavy, throbbing with restrained need– and the realization sent a fresh rush of heat through you. You moaned into his mouth, head tipping back as you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him closer, grinding shamelessly against that solid length, chasing the promise of stretch and fullness.

His hands slid lower, bunching the silk shift up inch by inch until it pooled at your waist. No drawers. His fingers brushed slick, swollen folds and he let out a low, approving growl against your throat. “You’re fucking soaked,” he said, voice thick, almost reverent. One long finger traced your entrance, circling, teasing, spreading your lips apart before sliding inside slowly. So slow you felt every knuckle, every ridge as he pressed deeper. His thumb settled over your clit, stroking with feather-light patience while he fucked you with that single finger, letting you adjust, letting you feel how easily you gushed for him, how greedily your body clenched around even this small invasion.

The rain pounded outside, a steady, hypnotic rhythm that matched the wet slide of his finger, the shallow pants you couldn’t quite control. You clutched his shoulders, nails biting skin. “Is this your idea of discussing terms?” you whispered, breathless, breaking the kiss only long enough to nip his lower lip.

He chuckled huskily and added a second finger, stretching you further, scissoring them gently until you whimpered at the delicious burn. His free hand squeezed your breast, thumb flicking the nipple through silk. “We’re negotiating,” he drawled, still measured. “And I intend to win… very thoroughly.”

Your walls fluttered around his fingers, arousal dripping down his wrist. You ground harder against his hand, friction building slow and torturous. “Then make me submit,” you challenged, husky with need, eyes locked on his.

His gaze darkened. He pinned you more firmly against the cabinet with the weight of his body, cock grinding against your thigh– thick, unyielding, so much bigger than the two fingers currently working inside you. The contrast made your breath catch. With how easily those fingers filled you, just how much more he would demand. His fingers curled relentlessly against that perfect spot, thumb circling faster, wet sounds filling the quiet room. “Sylus… don’t stop,” you begged, teasing edge gone, replaced by raw desperation.

“Not stopping,” he promised, voice low and steady. “Not until I’ve felt you come apart on my hand… and then maybe again on my tongue… and then– ” He didn’t finish. He simply quickened his pace just enough, plunging deeper, until your thighs shook and your nails raked down his back in long, red lines. The coil snapped and you cried out, convulsing around his fingers in sharp, pulsing waves, slickness coating his hand as your first promised orgasm rolled through you slow and shattering.

He drew it out mercilessly, slowing his thrusts to prolong every after thought of release, mouth latching onto your neck to suck a dark bruise into the skin. “That’s it,” he murmured, rough and pleased. “My greedy little thing… but I’m far greedier.”

He withdrew his fingers inch by inch, brought them to his lips, and sucked them clean while holding your gaze. Then he lifted you again– a one handed scoop into bridal this time, your legs draped over his arm– and carried you through shadowed corridors to his bedchamber. The door closed with a soft click behind you, the storm outside feeling miles away.

He laid you on the grand four-poster, silk sheets cool against fevered skin. He followed immediately, shoving the shift up until your breasts spilled free, nipples still flushed and sensitive from his earlier attention. He knelt between your thighs, eyes dark with intent.

“I’ve been thinking about this since the moment you stepped between those pistols and showed me your bite,” he said quietly, nipping the soft skin of your inner thigh. “About spreading you open… tasting how wet you get when you’re trying to be brave.” His tongue dragged a slow, broad stripe from entrance to clit, once, twice, savoring the whimpers and honey that slipped from you, before he settled in to devour.

He ate you out with patient greed. Long, luxurious licks that covered every inch, tongue thrusting deep, then flattening to lap at your clit in unhurried circles. Strong hands pinned your hips so you couldn’t escape the slow build. He hummed approval every time you whimpered, every time your thighs trembled. “So sweet,” he rasped against your pussy, words muffled. “I could stay here for hours.”

Fingers joined again– two sliding inside, curling slow and deep– while his tongue worked your clit with precise, relentless flicks. Overstimulation crept in, you scratched at his scalp, tugged his silver hair, bit your own lip to keep from sobbing too soon. “Sylus– ’s too much already,” you gasped, hips lifting anyway.

“Too much?” He lifted his head just enough to meet your eyes, chin glistening, smirk lazy and dangerous. “You said no limits. I’m only collecting what you offered.” He pinned you harder, fingers pumping in that same measured rhythm, tongue lashing until the pressure crested again– slower this time, deeper and strange. “No– wait–” You came with a broken cry, squirting over his mouth in hot, helpless pulses. He drank every drop, slurping you up until you were trembling, boneless, nails digging into his shoulders in silent pleas.

He rose at last, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes fever-bright with triumph and still ravenous want. “That’s two,” he purred, voice low and strained. “And I’m still starving.”

You lay there panting, gaze dropping inevitably to the thick bulge straining the front of his breeches. The outline alone was obscene– he was even longer now, heavy, pressing insistently against the wool like it had a mind of its own. A spark of defiance– and hunger– flickered through the haze of your overstimulation.

“Your turn to beg?” you teased, voice wrecked but still edged with challenge, already reaching for the buttons of his fall-front.

He caught your wrist gently but firmly, thumb stroking the inside pulse point.

“Careful what you ask for, darling.” But his eyes showed a ferality behind the amusement, and after a heartbeat he released you, stepping back just enough to give you room.

You didn’t hesitate. Fingers worked the buttons open with surprising steadiness, shoving the breeches down his thighs until his cock sprang free. It was as long, thick, veined as you had imagined, flushed a deep angry red at the tip and already glistening with precum. The sheer size of him made your mouth water and your core clench at the same time. He was bigger than you’d fully grasped from the outline, heavy enough that it bobbed slightly when released, curving just enough to promise it would hit every devastating angle inside you.

You licked your lips without thinking. He noticed, of course– his breath hitched, hips twitching forward on instinct.

“Still want me to beg?” he asked roughly, one hand wrapping loosely around the base to steady himself as he watched you.

You didn’t answer with words. You leaned forward, tongue flicking out to taste the inviting bead of precum at the slit– salty and warm. His low groan emboldened, you wrapped your lips around the head, sucking gently at first, tongue swirling slow circles while your hand stroked what your mouth couldn’t yet reach. He was so thick your jaw already ached in the best way. Hollowing your cheeks, you took him deeper, moaning softly around the stretch when he hit the back of your throat.

“Fuck– look at you,” he rasped, fingers threading gently into your hair, holding you and trembling with the effort of restraint. “So eager… so perfect.”

You hummed in answer, the vibration around his length making his hips jerk. You worked him with slow, greedy pulls, lips sliding down as far as you could, tongue pressing flat along the underside, hand twisting at the base in time with every bob of your head. Saliva slicked him up, dripping down to your fingers. Wet, filthy sounds mingled with his increasingly ragged breaths.

You looked up through your lashes– his head was tipped back, throat working, silver hair falling into his eyes, every line of his body taut with the battle not to thrust.

But Sylus was never one to cede control for long.

Without warning he pulled free with a wet pop, ignoring your small whine of protest. In one fluid motion he pushed you onto your side, dragged your hips to the middle of the bed, and slid beside you, his head back between your thighs and his cock back near your mouth.

“My turn,” he growled,“Keep that pretty mouth busy.”

He lowered his head and devoured you once more, tongue lapping, lips sealing around your clit with pulsing sucks– while he guided his cock back to your lips. You opened eagerly, taking him in again, moaning around the thick length as his tongue worked you mercilessly. The dual sensation was overwhelming: the heavy slide of him over your tongue, the relentless lap and suck between your legs, his low groans vibrating against your core every time you hollowed your cheeks.

You came embarrassingly fast and hard, walls fluttering uselessly around nothing, a muffled whimper vibrating around his cock as you gushed against his mouth. He drank you down without mercy, licking you through every trembling aftershock while you continued to suck him sloppily, desperately, tears of overstimulation pricking your eyes.

He pulled free again, breathing hard, cock glistening with your saliva and twitching angrily against his stomach. “Not yet,” he murmured, almost to himself. “I want to feel you come around me first… again… and again.”

He climbed over you, caging you with his body, the blunt head nudging your entrance. “Feel how big I am, darling?” he whispered dark as hot honey as he pressed in agonizingly slowly– veined inch by thick veined inch, stretching you open until your breath hitched on a whine. He paused halfway, checking if you were okay, and you nodded despite the impossible fullness, and he sank deeper until he was seated to the hilt and you both groaned.

“Fuck,” he breathed wrecked as he shivered. “So tight… like you were made to take me.” He rolled his hips in a slow grind, just letting you both feel how deep he reached, how completely he filled you.

You scratched down his back, nails leaving fresh red lines and he hissed in pleasure-pain, hips stuttering before he began to move– long, rolling thrusts that pulled almost all the way out before sinking back in, dragging against every sensitive place. His mouth found your breasts– sucking hard, biting down to leave cute little welts that made you arch. “Feel that?” he rasped, nipping your ear before kissing you wetly. “Every inch… all mine.”

You came again, walls clamping down so hard he cursed under his breath. Nails dug deeper; teeth sank into his shoulder. He laughed, low and thrilled, and flipped you onto your stomach without pulling out, yanking your hips up, driving back in from behind.

“Again,” he growled, pace still measured but deeper now, hitting places that made stars burst behind your eyelids. Hands gripped your ass, a playful spank followed by nails raking across the soft flesh and you sobbed, overstimulated, scratching at his thighs behind you. He braced himself near your head as he fucked you harder and you bit his wrist when another orgasm built too fast.

“That's it, mark me,” he urged, voice rough with want. “Let me feel how much you need this.” He pounded harder, fingers finding your clit, rubbing sloppy circles until you came once more, clenching like a vice.

He still didn’t come.

His breathing was ragged now, control fraying at the edges, but he wanted more– wanted you wrecked and utterly his before he let himself go.

He eased out only long enough to turn you onto your side, hooking one leg high over his shoulder so he could slide back in at that devastating, intimate angle. “Look at me,” he demanded, voice gravel. “Watch while I stretch you open again.” His free hand pushed down your thigh and you bit his forearm hard enough to leave teeth marks, nails digging into his hip, begging between broken sobs. “Mm– please–’s too much–”

He obliged– grinding deep and relentless, hips rolling in slow, punishing circles that dragged every ridge against your gushy walls.

You came again, trembling, vision blurring at the edges, a weak, keening sound escaping your throat as your body tried to clench around the impossible thickness of him. He groaned, low and tortured– but held back, sweat beading along his collarbone, silver hair sticking to his forehead.

“One more, kitten. You can do it.” He rolled you onto your back again, pinning your wrists above your head with one large hand, the other sliding down to hook under your knee and spread you wider. He thrust slowly and punishing now, drawing it out until every nerve sang with overstimulation. “One more,” he murmured, eyes locked on your teary ones. He leaned down, biting your lower lip as he ground against your clit with every deliberate roll of his hips. “Let me feel you squeeze around every inch… give me everything.”

The buildup was excruciatingly devastating. Inevitable. You came with a soft shudder, walls fluttering weakly around him, body shaking from one too many orgasms.

Only then– when you were utterly boneless, trembling, marked and claimed– did he finally let go.

A restrained roar tore from his throat as he buried himself against your pliant cervix, pulsing thick and hot inside you, hips jerking with each heavy spurt until he was spent, forehead pressed to yours, breathing ragged against your skin.

For long minutes neither of you moved, only the gentle patter of rain and the sound of your shared, uneven breaths.

Then he eased out slowly, gathered you close against his chest. Gentle kisses soothed the fresh bites and scratches he’d left– on you and the ones you’d left on him. A soft cloth appeared and he cleaned you both with careful, reverent strokes, murmuring low praise against your temple.

“Perfect,” he whispered, nuzzling into your neck, soft now, almost tender, like he didn’t just ruin you and rebuilt you like an indecisive architect. “Utterly perfect… and still mine.”

You curled into him, limbs heavy, a drowsy laugh escaping. “Insatiable bastard.”

“Guilty,” he whispered against your hair. “And you love it.”

You swatted him weakly before closing your eyes.

“Now,” he murmured, voice low and sure, “we’ll see what you choose to do with me come morning.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧

The storm had burned itself out by dawn.

Light bled through the shutters, soft and indifferent. You stirred first, the unfamiliar warmth of a man beside you stealing the chill the rain had left behind.

Sylus was already awake, of course. He watched you as though still solving the same riddle he’d started the night before.

“You meant what you said,” he murmured. It wasn’t a question.

You pushed yourself upright, the sheet gathering at your chest. “That I had no limits? Yes. You tested it well enough.”

He smiled faintly, eyes flicking toward the window. “Then I’ll test one more.”

You frowned, wary. “Which is?”

He rose, gathering his discarded waistcoat with practiced ease. “Marriage.”

The word landed between you like a pistol on a table.

You blinked, disbelieving. “You’re jesting.”

“I never jest before breakfast,” he said, sounding offended, as he buttoned the last clasp. “Honour demands I make an honest woman of you, though I confess the idea has its own personal appeal.”

“Honour,” you echoed, almost laughing. “That’s what this is?”

He turned then, eyes sharp, amused. “Call it what you like, Miss Livingston. But last night, you stopped a duel. I’d rather not start another– for your reputation’s sake or my sanity’s.”

You rose, meeting him halfway, bare feet silent against the carpet. “And if I refuse?”

He tilted his head, studying you as though the question delighted him. “Then, I imagine, I’ll spend the rest of my days trying to change your mind.”

You almost smiled. “You’re terribly insufferable.”

“And yet,” he said, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to the inside of your wrist, “you didn’t run when I gave you every chance to.”

Outside, the courtyard glistened, washed clean by the night. Inside, the air still tasted faintly of old ash and new surrender– and something steadier taking its place.

Thanks for reading <3

✦ STRWBRRY'S BULLETS

↳ Exit debauchery

Ever since things with Xavier had shifted into something a little more intimate, his touches lingering, his eyes catching yours for a second too long, his voice going soft in a way that made your skin prickle—you couldn’t stop thinking about it. About him. And about how, one of these days, you were going to be in his apartment a floor above yours, curled on his couch, laughing at something stupid until laughter bled into silence. The kind of silence that demanded kissing. That demanded more. And then? Then you’d ruin it, because he’d peel your clothes away only to find… purple cotton briefs with a lace band and tiny constellations scattered all over.

You groan, throwing yourself onto the bed and burying your face in the pillow. When you try, you really do—buying lacy thongs, silky things with bows so small they look dangerous to untie. But one hour into wearing them and you’re squirming, irritated, overstimulated, swearing to yourself you’ll never do it again. Comfort always wins, and comfort apparently looks like children’s stationery patterns on your butt.

You can already picture his face, blank and polite. Maybe even a little disappointed. Except…every time Xavier has been in your apartment—fixing your leaky sink, handing back the mug you left upstairs, leaning casually against your counter as if they were built just for him—his gaze has always lingered on little details. The mug with the bunny ears. Your star-print socks. The moon-shaped pillow you keep on your bed. 

He likes them. He likes you. Even so, you’re still stuck spiraling about cotton underwear.

—

The night starts easy, always does with him. Steam curls from the hotpot on his coffee table, carrying the scent of broth and spice, the clatter of chopsticks mixing with your laughter as you tease him for fishing out all the good pieces before you can reach them. He argues back with that mock-serious tone, eyes narrowing like he’s in a boardroom instead of sprawled on the couch in sweatpants. By the time the last of the noodles vanish and the dishes are pushed aside, you’re warm from the food and from him.

Now the room smells more like his cologne and the faint sweetness of the soda cans left on the coffee table. You are tucked neatly between his long legs on the couch, controller in hand, your back pressed against his chest. You’re wearing the hoodie he left at your place last week, sleeves pulled over your hands, the faint scent of him clinging to the fabric. He’s in another hoodie, hood pulled up halfway, looking unfairly good for someone slouched against a couch armrest.

Xavier’s chin rests lightly on your shoulder, his breath steady against your neck. His hair tickles your cheek whenever he leans in to peek at your screen, silver strands falling into your peripheral vision. He isn’t even holding his controller anymore, just loosely looping his arms around your waist as though that has been his real plan all along.

The match ends with you losing again, and your mock groan of defeat only makes his lips curve faintly against your skin. Instead of reaching for his own controller, he lowers his head, his nose brushing the curve of your neck.

“You smell nice,” he murmurs. The words are plain, calm, like he’s stating an ordinary fact rather than unraveling you with three simple words.

Your grip on the controller falters. “Do you really mean that, or is it just because I’m wearing your hoodie?” you try to sound teasing, but it comes out half a laugh, half a nervous stumble.

He hums low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your back. “Both,” he answers simply, as if there’s no difference. His lips graze the sensitive spot just beneath your ear before settling into a soft kiss at the nape of your neck.

Heat blooms up your chest, pooling hot and embarrassing in your cheeks. “You can’t just say things like that,” you whisper, giggling as you squirm under his hold.

“I didn’t ‘just say it,’” he replies, unbothered. His voice stays in that soft, deliberate cadence of his, calm as ever. “I meant it.” his arms tighten fractionally, pulling you closer into him.

Your heart trips. The entire time you are keenly aware of what you’re wearing under his hoodie—not lace, not silk, not anything remotely seductive. Just soft baby blue cotton with tiny golden stars, chosen without thinking because tonight was supposed to be comfortable. Now, with his mouth lingering on your skin and his warmth pressing all along your back, you can’t stop imagining him finding out.

You laugh again, nervous and high-pitched, trying to shake off your own thoughts. But Xavier tilts his head to look at you, his blue eyes steady, unflinching, carrying that quiet fondness he never bothers to disguise when you’re alone like this.

“I like when you wear my clothes,” he says softly, almost like it’s a confession he doesn’t realize he’s spoken aloud. “And when you smell like me.”

You freeze, heartbeat hammering, and then duck your head into the crook of his arm with a flustered little groan. He doesn’t tease you, doesn’t push. He just lets you hide there, the faintest curve of a smile against your skin, as if holding you like this is the most natural thing in the world.

You’re too aware of yourself now, tucked in his arms. The weight of his chin on your shoulder feels good, steady, but your mind betrays you with a wild leap: if things keep going like this, if he keeps kissing your skin like it’s second nature, then eventually clothes will come off. And he’ll see.

The thought makes your stomach flip. Not from excitement—well, not just that—but from sheer panic. Because you didn’t plan for tonight. You shift slightly, trying to refocus on the game, but the controller might as well be made of lead. All you can think about is how utterly unprepared you are, how ridiculous it would be if the moment ever turned serious and he discovered you looking like—like this.

He notices the tension in your body before you can cover it. His low voice comes from right beside your ear, calm, even, but tinged with curiosity. “Something wrong?”

You shake your head a little too quickly. “N-no. Just…uhm, distracted.”

“Distracted,” he repeats, like he’s testing the word. His lips brush against the shell of your ear, and you practically melt into the couch. “By me?”

Your breath catches. “Maybe.”

The silence between you stretches, filled only by the quiet hum of the console and the faint patter of rain against his window. Then Xavier presses another kiss to the side of your neck, his voice softer, almost amused. “That’s fine. I like it when you’re distracted by me.”

Your cheeks burn, and you squeeze your eyes shut for a second, mortified. If only he knew how distracted you are—by cotton, by little stars stitched in gold thread, by the nagging fear that you’re a walking mood-killer. But he doesn’t ask again. Instead, his arms curve more firmly around your waist, pulling you against him as if to wordlessly insist: whatever’s in your head, it doesn’t matter.

You try to laugh it off, muttering, “You’re going to regret saying that.”

“I won’t,” he says simply, not a hint of hesitation or doubt in his tone.

As another round rolls by, you try to focus on the game. On the flashing colors, the familiar mechanics, the little noises of victory and defeat. But it’s impossible. Every few minutes Xavier leans down to press the lightest kiss against the nape of your neck, or the side of your jaw, or the soft skin beneath your ear. They’re not hungry kisses, not demanding—just soft, deliberate interruptions, as if reminding you that he’s there, that you’re in his arms.

It’s enough to make your pulse race and your concentration shatter. Enough to send your thoughts spiraling right back to where you don’t want them: what happens when this crosses the line you’ve been tiptoeing around for months?

You have a good impression of Xavier, more than good. You know he’d be gentle, patient, endlessly kind no matter what. He wouldn’t laugh, wouldn’t tease you cruelly, wouldn’t make you regret it. But that doesn’t quiet the dread curling in your chest. What if it ruins the mood? What if the moment comes and he finds cotton with golden stars instead of lace, and all the heat fizzles out?

You lose another round, and before you can protest, he plucks the controller from your hands and sets it aside somewhere. You don’t even catch where—it doesn’t matter—because his hands are sliding slowly, easily, under the hem of the hoodie you’re wearing. His hoodie. His palms warm against your waist. The sigh that escapes you is helpless, a mix between tension and melting into him. You tense, then soften, and he notices both. He always notices all the little changes in your body, always so in tune with you.

Another kiss finds your neck, soft and lingering, then one at the curve of your ear. His voice hums against your skin, calm and even. “You’re still overthinking,” he murmurs, not a question so much as an observation. His hand shifts, coaxing you gently to turn your face toward him. When your lips meet, it’s not sudden—it’s like you’ve been building to this the whole night. A peck, then another, then his mouth lingering against yours as if testing your resolve.

When he pulls back, his gaze stays on yours, quiet and unflinching. “Come here. We can just cuddle,” he suggests, simple and direct, as if he can sense the storm in your head and wants to anchor you.

You try. You really do. You shift, curling into him, letting his arm settle around your middle. But it doesn’t work. Not when you end up nestled against him, your face against his chest, his steady heartbeat under your ear. Not when you adjust in his lap and accidentally brush against something unmistakably hard beneath the layers of soft fabric.

Your body jolts with awareness. He doesn’t react, not a flinch, not a word, not even the faintest hitch of breath. But now that you’ve noticed, you can’t un-notice. The heat crawls up your neck, sets your ears on fire, makes your own heart thunder in your chest. Anxiety and arousal blur together until you can’t tell which is which. Because if this does go further tonight, you want it. You really, really want it. However, the thought slams into you again, that you’re not ready. You’re not prepared. You bite your lip and cling tighter to him, hoping he can’t feel how shaky you are.

You let him kiss you, let his warm hands roam, soft but sure, mapping the shape of your body through his hoodie. Every press of his mouth against yours sends your breath shorter, rougher, until you’re clutching the fabric in your fists like it’s the only thing holding you steady. He smiles against your lips when he feels how hard you’re clinging, and the gentle curve of it nearly undoes you. One hand cups your jaw, steady and firm, angling your face so he can kiss you deeper.

It’s when his fingertips start playing with the hem of the hoodie that panic flares sharp and hot in your chest. You tense without meaning to, your lips faltering against his. The tiny excuse tumbles out before you can swallow it, soft and awkward, not even making sense.

Xavier freezes. His blue eyes flicker over your face, the faint crease of worry in his brow betraying him. “Do you not want this?” he asks carefully, his voice low, as though the question itself might break something fragile between you.

Your heart trips painfully. You bite your lip hard, then before you can think yourself out of it, you push forward and kiss him harder, daring, messy, desperate. His surprise lasts all of a second before he responds, welcoming the demand, kissing you back with a heat that burns away the hesitation.

Still, he doesn’t move past the hoodie. He holds you, kisses you, lets you cling and arch against him, but it’s clear he’s confused by the flicker of hesitation you showed. And that confusion just winds your nerves tighter, until the thought of stopping now feels unbearable.

You’re trembling when you murmur into his mouth, breathless and daring, “Go on. Take it off.”

He stills, his gaze searching yours. “Are you sure? I can stop.”

You shake your head quickly, fingers tangled in his hoodie as if to anchor yourself. “Don’t stop.”

That’s all it takes. In one smooth motion, he tugs the hoodie over your head, tossing it aside. The air feels suddenly cold against your skin, and your bra feels plain, almost embarrassingly so—light blue, no lace, no daring cut. Not sexy. Not enough.

Except Xavier’s gaze darkens the second he sees you. His lips part slightly, his eyes tracking over you slowly, like you’ve stolen the breath from him. The intensity of it makes you flush hot, your pulse hammering in your throat.

Then his mouth is on you again, not at your lips but lower, trailing soft, wet kisses down your throat, your clavicle, the swell of your chest. Each one lingers just long enough to burn. His hands slide over your waist, steadying you as he braces you above him until you’re straddling his lap, your knees pressed into the couch on either side of him.

You gasp against the weight of him, the undeniable hardness beneath you pressing up through his sweats. Your hips arch instinctively into him, your own arousal drowning out everything else for a moment. Almost enough to quiet your mind. Almost.

You cling to him, nails digging lightly into his shoulders, chasing the hope that when your sweatpants finally come off, he’ll still look at you the same way. That he’ll still be hard, still hot and bothered for you, even when he sees the cotton stars.

His kisses grow heavier, deeper, but never rushed. You can feel the shift in him though—what started as soft, almost timid pecks have become deliberate, lingering presses of his mouth, like he’s staking quiet claims across your skin. The hand at your waist slides lower, curving over your hip, then gripping it just enough to pull you tighter against the hard press of him beneath you.

You gasp, the sound muffled against his shoulder. It’s impossible to ignore now, the way he’s bricked up under you, and the thought sends another flood of heat through your body. He wants you. Xavier wants you. It should silence every worry, but it doesn’t. 

When his fingers slip under the waistband of your sweats, you tense again. He notices instantly, you knew he would. His hand pauses, his lips hovering against your clavicle. He doesn’t push. “Tell me,” he murmurs softly, almost cautious. “Do you want me to stop?” he asks again.

You shake your head so quickly it almost makes you dizzy. “No, I just…” the words die in your throat, and you can’t bring yourself to explain.

He hesitates for one breath, then another, before tugging gently at the waistband. The fabric slides down slowly, and panic claws at your chest. You want to look away, to hide, to disappear entirely before he sees. But when he does, he doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t pause, he doesn’t even blink.

His gaze lingers on the soft cotton, baby blue scattered with tiny golden stars, and for a moment it’s so intense it makes your stomach flip. Then something shifts in his expression, his lips curve into the faintest smile, and his eyes darken in a way that makes your heart stutter.

“You’re cute,” he says simply, like it’s the most obvious truth in the world. His thumb brushes over your hip, tracing the edge of the waistband with deliberate softness. “So very you.”

Heat floods your face, your whole body, but this time it isn’t from shame. His words sink deep, unraveling every knot of anxiety you’ve been clinging to. Before you can even respond, his mouth finds yours again, hungrier this time, his hands slipping to hold you steady in his lap. He doesn’t care. He’s still hard beneath you—harder, even—as his tongue sweeps against yours and he exhales shakily into your mouth, like he’s the one struggling to hold back now.

Suddenly, you don’t care either. You let his mouth consume yours in a searing kiss, swallowing up every scrap of nervous air in your lungs. The moment his lips part from yours you expect him to pull back, to look at you like you’re silly, but instead he gazes down, slow and deliberate, eyes heavy-lidded and darkened with something that makes your pulse falter. His tongue flicks out to wet his lips, and then a low sound escapes him, a groan that tightens your stomach in heat.

He smirks faintly, but it’s different from the usual half-amused curve of his mouth. Hungrier, sexier. His grip shifts, pulling you firmer against the hard line of him, until you can feel every bit of what he’s holding back. His fingers trace the fabric at your hip, brushing over the golden stars like they’re something worth worshipping. The thought hits you with a dizzying jolt; he likes this. Not because he wants to be polite, no. Oh, but it’s not sexy, you think frantically. It’s plain cotton, childish, safe. You’d been sure it would ruin everything, but the heat in his gaze says otherwise. The way his voice comes next nearly melts you.

“Starlight,” he murmurs, the pet name he’s used before when gently teasing you, but never like this. Now it sounds like something sinful, something that makes your thighs clench and your breath stumble.

You tremble as he takes your hand in his, guiding it down without hurry, pressing it over the heavy bulge straining against his sweats. Your head spins at the sheer confidence of it, the calmness gone, replaced by something deliberate and commanding. He kisses you again, rougher this time, his breath brushing against your lips as he smirks.

“Did you know?” he murmurs low, his voice dropping in pitch. “That tonight would turn into this? Is that why you wore them—for me?”

Confusion tangles with arousal, your pulse skittering madly. “No, I…I usually wear these,” you confess in a whisper, cheeks hot with shame. “I’m sorry if they’re not… uhm, sexy enough.”

Xavier chuckles softly against your mouth, and the sound is devastating. His hand leaves your hip, sliding down with agonizing leisure until his fingers slip between your thighs. The cotton is already damp, and when he presses the pad of his finger firmly against your clit through the thin fabric, you gasp, muffling the sound against his shoulder.

He circles lazily, deliberately, as if testing every shiver that runs through you. His voice is low, calm still, but edged now with heat. “Not sexy?” his finger presses harder, slow circles that soak the stars darker with every pass. “You’re dripping in them, bunny.”

A helpless moan escapes, muffled against him, and your body arches into his hand. The stars blur in your vision as your head spins, the spirals of anxiety drowned out by the way he works you with such quiet confidence.

Before you can think, he shifts, and in one smooth movement, he twists you onto your back and hovers above, his silver hair falling forward, his eyes burning into you. You’re trembling, breath caught in your throat, as his hands hook your sweats down.

Then he moves lower, lips dragging heat down your body until he’s kneeling between your thighs. He presses a kiss to one star, then another, each kiss firmer, wetter, until the fabric clings to you with every touch. And through it all, he doesn’t look away. His gaze locks with yours, unwavering, until your whole face burns crimson.

He doesn’t speak in praises, doesn’t fill the silence with pretty words. Just the rough drag of his mouth, the explicit glide of his hands over you, tracing every star as though each one belongs to him. 

And you realize with a shiver that you were wrong. These underwear are sexy, because he’s making them so.

You can barely breathe with the way he’s looking at you, every kiss branding heat into the thin cotton. Every drag of his lips makes you tremble, your thighs twitching, your breath coming quicker. Then his fingers slip beneath the edge of the waistband, tugging it aside with an easy confidence that leaves you dizzy. The air hits your damp heat, and his eyes flick down, a soft groan slipping from his throat when he sees just how wet you are.

The sound alone makes you clench. You want to hide, to cover your face, but before you can even think, he leans down and drags his tongue slowly up your slit. A sharp, wrecked gasp rips out of you, your back arching as the warm, wet stroke knocks the air from your lungs.

“Xavier…” it’s half a moan, half a plea, and you don’t even know what you’re asking for.

He doesn’t answer, but his tongue curls against your clit in slow, deliberate circles that make your thighs shake. His hands settle firmly on your hips, holding you down when you try to buck against his mouth. The pressure is steady, his tongue relentless, until you’re clawing at the couch cushions for something to hold onto.

You bite your lip hard, trying to muffle the sounds spilling out of you, but it’s useless. Every glide of his mouth makes you louder, needier, trembling as he drags you higher. When he finally pulls back just enough to speak, his lips glisten, and his voice is low, rough in a way you’ve never heard before. “You’re dripping, starlight. All over me.”

Your whole body burns. The nickname, the words, the way he says them like a fact rather than a tease—it pushes you closer to the edge than you want to admit.

He doesn’t give you time to recover. His tongue slides back against you, this time faster, firmer, flicking your clit until your thighs clamp helplessly around his head. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t flinch, just groans into you, the vibration sending you spiraling. Your head spins, your chest heaves, and the only thought left is that you’ve never been this wet, this desperate, and it’s all because of him.

You didn’t even know Xavier could be like this. You’d never dared to imagine it, never let yourself paint the picture of calm, boyish, softly oblivious Xavier on his knees between your legs, his mouth buried against you like he’s done this a hundred times, like he was made for exactly this.

But this isn’t a fantasy. This is real, your thighs trembling open for him, your ruined cotton underwear shoved aside, the wetness spreading and spreading until you feel drenched, soaked through, dripping into his mouth as he drinks every drop like it’s his right.

You pant harder with every flick of his tongue, your fingers tangling desperately in the fabric of the couch, then in his silver hair, tugging without meaning to. His silver hair falls over his forehead, his mouth glistens and his blue eyes catch yours, unwavering, and the heat in them makes you choke on your own breath. You can’t stop it, can’t hold it back, can only part your trembling thighs wider for him, offering more.

“I’m—” your voice breaks, shame twisting with pleasure, “Xavier, I’m going to cum…”

The moment the words slip out, his eyes darken, his brows lowering, his mouth working harder, faster, his tongue ruthless. The quiet boy who falls asleep in public, who fumbles social cues, is gone. In his place is this Xavier—focused, relentless, confident in a way that makes your stomach twist with heat.

Your little sounds trip into moans, higher, louder, until you can’t take it—you close your eyes, embarrassed to watch yourself melt under him. But he doesn’t let up, doesn’t pull back, doesn’t stop when your body seizes and your thighs clamp tight around his head. His grip on your hips only hardens, pinning you down as he pushes you through it, his tongue dragging against your clit until sparks dance behind your closed eyes.

Your body trembles, shudders, breaks apart for him. Heat floods you in waves, pulsing out of you so hard you can’t breathe, can’t think, just cry out helplessly as your orgasm crashes down. And still, he doesn’t pull back. He stays there, mouth working you through every shiver, swallowing every drop you give him, groaning low and hungry into you as though he doesn’t want to waste a single taste.

When the aftershocks finally make you whimper and try to push him away, too sensitive, his hands ease their grip just enough. He presses one last slow, deliberate lick up your slit, then pulls back at last, lips and chin glistening, his chest rising a little heavier than usual.

He wipes nothing away. He looks at you, eyes still dark, mouth wet from you, and you’ve never seen anything more dangerous or more beautiful.

Your whole body feels boneless, trembling from the inside out. The room is spinning, your chest rising and falling too fast, and you can’t bring yourself to keep looking at him—not with your underwear ruined, clinging damp and dark to your skin, not with his mouth still glistening with your release.

But Xavier doesn’t give you the chance to hide. He moves slowly, pushing himself back up over you. His weight settles carefully above, his arms braced so he’s not crushing you, silver hair falling forward like a curtain. When his mouth finds yours again, it’s soft, almost chaste—utterly at odds with what he just did to you. You taste yourself on him, and the thought makes your face burn, but he kisses you so gently, so steady, that it pulls you back from the edge of your own panic.

Your fingers find the hem of his hoodie again, clutching tight, your chest still heaving. He hums against your lips, his thumb brushing soothing circles against your jaw as if to steady you.

You break the kiss first, gasping softly, your face buried in the curve of his neck. “I-I can’t believe you just…” your voice falters, caught between awe and embarrassment.

He leans into you, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. His voice is low, calm, almost boyish in its simplicity. “You taste good.”

The words make your whole body jolt, your nails curling into his shoulders. He doesn’t smirk this time, doesn’t tease, he just says it like it’s fact, like it’s the simplest truth in the world. When he pulls back enough to look at you again, his blue eyes are steady, dark but clear. “You okay?”

The question nearly undoes you more than anything else. You nod, shaky, your cheeks burning as you whisper, “Yeah… just…overwhelmed.”

His lips curve faintly, the kind of small, careful smile only you ever get to see. He presses a kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, then lingers at the corner of your mouth. “Then we’ll go slow.”

Your heart clenches at that. Because even after he’s wrecked you, he’s still here, still grounding you with the same patient steadiness as always. You arch into him without thinking, and his breath stutters against your lips as you press your thighs tighter around his waist. You can feel him, still hard against you, and the realization sends another pulse of heat through your exhausted body.

This isn’t over, you can tell by the way he looks at you, by the weight of him above you. But for now, he lets you breathe, lets you cling to his hoodie, lets you drown in the warmth of his mouth and the quiet hum of his heartbeat.

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