River

Regardless, Caleb knew Xavier was the type to listen to you through the floorboards of his upstairs apartment. He was a lot alike Caleb in that sort of manner. They were both possessive freaks who couldn’t stand the thought of you being with somebody else.

That’s why Caleb was fucking you so hard — pounding your pretty pussy so deeply into the mattress that you were seeing stars with each mean thrust.

He used his size to his advantage. It was fitting. He’d always loved how much bigger he was than you. That’s how you received your adorned nickname: pipsqueak.

He planned on his first time with you being a lot more gentle than this. He planned on being sweet and loving. He planned on cherishing your body the way you deserve, but you just had to go and give yourself to 4 other guys before him.

“Stop crying.” His voice rumbled as his piercing gaze found yours — so much different than the sweet childhood friend you had. His hand covered your mouth as he hunched over your figure, still ramming his cock head into you ruthlessly. “I know you can take it. I’ve watched you take it before.”

Your eyes blinked back tears as you looked up at him. He was being so mean. You couldn’t believe this was the same doting Caleb that you grew up with, and you didn’t even want to think about the face he had been watching you…

“Fucking pussy’s made for me, and you’ve been letting other men try to make her feel good.” He growled as he used his less-than-human arm reach down and gently rub against your small button of nerves.

“Caleb-!” You choked out as your body writhed beneath him. You could feel every ridge and vein of his thick cock splitting you apart, making you wholly his and his alone.

“That’s right… Say my name, baby. Tell me who’s making you feel so good.” He prompted with a confident smirk before he hauled your legs up above his shoulders, sinking even deeper into your dripping cunt.

Clawing at the bed, your back arched as you tried to cope with the intrusion. He’s so fucking deep it feels like you’re going to choke on him. “Caleb-“ You sob as your cunt pitifully clenches around him.

Feeling you wrapped around him so sweetly, crying out his name as you’re so overwhelmed with pleasure has Caleb revitalized with a new vigor. His hips work in tight circles, pumping his fat cock in and out of you as your cunt makes the most obscene squelching noises he’s ever heard.

“Such a fucking noisy girl. I should’ve know you were going to be a crybaby.” He teased before placing open mouth kisses along your neck snd shoulder.

“W-wait Caleb- calebcalebcaleb. I’m gonna..” You pant out nervously as his metal fingers were still rubbing languid circled around your cunt, and his tip was smooshing globs of precum against your cervix.

His fingers suddenly pinch down on your clit, making you cry out from the sensation. Your body went taut as you were being dangled on the edge of pleasure. His robotic arm wasn’t quite letting you get there.

You thought his arm was literally malfunctioning until you heard him chuckle from your suffering.

“You’re going to cum when I saw you can, okay baby?” He asked in that same condescending tone he always used when you two were younger.

His hips continued to roll after he was sure that you weren’t going to fall off the deep end, and he let out deep guttural groans, feeling your pretty pussy soak him. It was like you were practically trying to suck him in. He couldn’t believe he had waited this long to sink into your cunt like this.

and the best part about it was he knew your stupid upstairs neighbor was listening! Xavier knew you were down here getting railed, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Hell, if he even tried, Caleb would use his evol and force him kneel beside the bed as he drilled you even harder.

Fuck, the thought of slutting you out in front of every single one of your little boyfriends had his stomach tightening. His hips snapped forward into you with a pace that could only be described as feral.

You were a complete babbling mess at this point — utterly cock drunk as Caleb had you folded in half, filling you up to the brim with his length.

“Ohhh, that’s my girl.” He purred as he saw your glossed over look. “It’s coming, baby. I’m going to give you want you need.” He promised as he pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead that completely contradicted the ruthless way his hips were rutting into you.

“C-caleb- Caleb no, wait.. Don’t cum inside-“ You stuttered out in a panic. You hadn’t been by the pharmacy yet to pick up birth control, so technically, this was all unprotected.

“Why?” He growled as his back curled over. He was fucking mounting you while holding your thighs in the prettiest mating press he’d ever seen. “You fucking let them fill you up. Am I not good enough to breed this pussy?”

His hips slammed into you. It felt like he was trying to push his way straight into your womb. It was mind-numbing pleasure, making black orbs and stars dance across your vision.

“Look at me, baby.” He ordered, dragging your face to look back up at him. You could barely see straight. It was all too much. “You’re going to let your best friend breed you, and you’re gonna fucking love it. You’re going to cum all over this fat cock until you can’t breathe. Understand?”

You dumbly nodded your head, halfway hearing his words. Your pussy was aching to cum. Your swollen puffy folds were greedily accepting him in with every thrust. You wanted this. Birth control be damned. Everyone else be damned.

Caleb gritted his teeth together as he gave you a few more good harsh thrusts for good measure. He then crushed his body against yours, burying himself all the way to your womb before his cock started to jerk and pulse inside of you, shooting rope after rope of his thick potent cum. The only thing on his mind was the need to see you, his childhood best friend, round with his baby.

He needed to see the look on each other of those pricks’ faces when they realized you were spoken for.

The cherry on top was when he felt your walls clenching around him, happily milking his cock for everything he had while you sobbed and hiccuped his name. It seemed like his childhood best friend was maybe just as twisted as he was. He’d have to give her an extra good reward for being such a good girl.

You whine softly against his bare chest, his heat radiating off you, his slender fingers stroking your hair slowly, and his other hand drawing soothing circles on your thighs. 

You don’t remember how it started, but your thoughts start to drift, recalling the times your mind would float whenever Sylus had his lips on yours with you straddling on his thick thighs. He would devour you, painfully slowly because he knows that’s what riles you up, and he definitely enjoys listening to your whimpers, your non-verbal pleas for him to do more to you. He’d make sure your lips are wet and messy once he’s done with you, his touches teasing and light against your skin. Sylus secretly wants you to beg for it, because he knows that he’d give in to you in a heartbeat. His fingers would cup yours that were on his chest, and the look he would give you reset all the butterflies in your stomach. You would feel his thick erection, hidden under the thin silk black bathrobe he’d always wear against your clothed pussy, and dear god, he’s so fucking big. But before you could ask, Sylus would trail his fingers to tease your wet clit and pussy, soaking in your adorable reactions he swears is enough to get him off, erasing the question of wanting him to fuck you off your brain when the pleasure from his fingers tingles through your body. 

Sylus doesn’t pride himself as a generous being, but he thinks he’s always generous enough for you. He realises he enjoys having his face in between your legs, making you squirm, listening to you sob when he overstimulates you with his tongue, making sure his tongue presses and grazes fully on your clit while he listens to you fall apart, his crimson eyes locked onto you while he holds you down to take whatever he’s giving you. 

He’s good at distracting you like that whenever you want to bring up the question of fucking. 

This time though? Through your wet lashes from the overstimulation and hazy thoughts, all you were craving for was just to be fucked stupid by Sylus. Your hand reached out and pushed against his head. Sylus pulled back slightly, confused for a moment. 

“What is it, sweetie?” He paused, his hands trailing up and down your thighs. 

Your mind slowly clears, but your pussy is still pulsing from him tongue fucking you.

“Need you to fuck me, Sylus. Please. I don’t think I can take it any longer.”

Sylus is momentarily taken aback by your demand, but he realises he can’t keep holding it off, mostly because there’s only so much longer he’s able to hold back, especially when you’re begging for him like that. 

“I don’t think-“

“I can take it”, you muttered stubbornly, yanking your partner towards you. You shift yourself above him, straddling his thighs, just shy of his appendage. 

As much as your determination is endearing, Sylus knows your comfort should come first. And he knows very well that his cock isn’t gonna fit into you in one go, so he decides to let you gauge it for yourself—putting your hands into the string of his robe, gesturing you to loosen it. 

And you do, your gaze flickering from his cool expression to his silk robe sliding off his body when you untie the string. 

You swallow hard when his cock comes into view—thick, long and heavy, the tip red with a wet sheen of precum. Yeah, that’s definitely not gonna fit in you in one go. You and him solely being just wet enough wasn’t going to cut it. 

Nonetheless, you’re still determined. Your eyes meet his gaze and an idea pops into his head. 

He intertwines his fingers with yours.

“Tell you what, sweetie. I’ll fit into you slowly. Doesn’t matter how much you can take, I just want to make sure you’re comfortable when you’re doing so.”

“But-“

He presses his lips on the back of your hand. 

“I’ll be fine. You trust me, right?”

You nod, watching the way his eyes soften before you. 

So there you are, lying on your side, facing Sylus, your cunt trying to adjust to his cock as he stretches you open. It’s been a couple of days since you’ve been size training with your partner. It started off with getting his cockhead in, and that was already making you hitch your breath. Then inch by inch he sinks into you from then. He’d let you cock warm him like that and it never failed to leave you so full one session after the next. 

It’d been seven days, and you barely pushed through three-quarters of his girth. Initially, Sylus still could tease you while you tried to take his cock, but as he sunk deeper into you after each session, it started getting harder for him to maintain his composure—every twitch, every squeeze—had him digging his fingers into his palm, clenching against his silk pillow and breathing a little harder. 

He huffs once more when he feels you clench around his cock. 

“If you’re gonna keep clenching around me like that, Kitten, I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it.”

You glance up, watching the way Sylus’s platinum hair becoming a tousled mess against the pillow. His crimson eyes cast to meet yours, his lips pulled into a slight frown. 

“I can’t help it”, you reply, suddenly feeling self-conscious. 

You hear Sylus hiss slightly once more when he twitches inside you. 

“Do you think you could fit another inch in?” It almost comes off as a beg. 

You inhale shakily, shifting yourself further downwards, taking another inch of his cock. The both of you gasp at the sensation. 

You freeze at the thickness. How far down are you already?

“You’re almost all the way in, Kitten”, Sylus whispers, almost as if he heard your thoughts. His breathing is growing heavier by the second, and he’s forcing himself to hold back from just thrusting the remainder of his cock in. It’s dangling over him like his favourite prey. 

His thumb strokes against yours, trying to distract you from the pressure on top of pressing your forehead with kisses, singing you soft praises.

Your mind is gradually turning more hazy with Sylus’s cock taking up the majority of your thoughts, on top of his body soap that’s been creeping into your olfactory senses. The more Sylus inches his cock into you, the more he’s pressing onto your g-spot, and the more it’s starting to make you see stars whenever you blink. You’re growing so sensitive that you’re feeling every throb Sylus’s cock is giving you. 

Your hand is on his arm, trying to ground yourself from the slight soreness. Another strained whimper when Sylus pushes him deeper into your pussy. Slick leaks from your pussy and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Sylus. 

Another kiss to your temple, another circle drawing session on your thigh.

“Do you want me to go all the way in?” 

Your toes curl.

“I can take it.”

So Sylus inches his cock right to the hilt, knocking the wind out of you. 

Tears are prickling at the corner of your eyes, but oh god you do feel so good. 

“How are you feeling, sweetie?”

You hiccup softly. “So full.”

He chuckles. “Such a good girl.” The vibrations of his light laughter only press his tip further onto your g-spot, and it’s making your thighs shake from the impending orgasm. 

“D-don’t move so much, Sylus. You’re gonna make me—“ you try to bury your head into his chest but he stops you with his fingers in your chin. 

“Make you what?” 

He intentionally shifts, and his cockhead hits your sensitive spots again, sending fireworks into your eyelids, and a strained moan. Sylus seems to enjoy your reactions, because then he flips you to your back, his large frame looming over you, forcing you to look up at him with your legs folded, and still with his cock in you. 

Oh no. 

Sylus looks down at you with the faintest glint of softness in his eyes before it completely disappears, now just hunger seeping through the red. 

“Sylus!-“ you gasp, his fullness penetrating into you again, this time easily, considering the wet and sopping mess you’ve made around his cock. 

He only hums in reply, then pulling out slightly before he pushes into you again. He’s found your sweet spots, and he’s not letting it go that easily. 

The knot in your stomach pulls tight, and it’s making you tear up in sheer pleasure. You’re barely able to meet Sylus’s eyes, not when he’s fucking into you and has your head thrown back while you’re fighting to keep your eyelids open. 

It builds and builds. Sylus probably realises it from how much you’re just pulsing on his cock. His thumb rests at the corner of your lips and you let him slip in, your glazed out eyes meeting his. It makes his heart flutter when you’re completely undone like this for him, but he’ll never admit it, at least, not yet. 

“Gonna cum. Fuck, it’s so much, Sylus-“ you whimper before your mind completely melts away. 

“Release all you want on me, sweetie. That’s my good girl.”

That’s enough to send you over the edge—your orgasm hitting you like waves, tingling through your body like electricity, the pleasure eating you up over and over again. Sylus watches affectionately while you fall apart on his cock—the way you’re writhing and squirming, the way his name leaves your lips after every moan, the way your pussy creams so much on his cock. He thinks he’s doomed because he never gonna get enough. 

“Looks like a little kitten made a mess”, Sylus teases. He watches the way cream pools at the base of his cock when he pulls out slightly, only to thrust back into you again. His eyes flutter shut at the tight warmth eating him up, groans replacing his words. 

“Now, can I make a mess in you?” 

Your watery eyes meet his, and he’s equally about to lose all composure. You cup his cheeks, taking him by surprise, before giving him a quick peck on the corner of his lips, and then you nod. Said corner of his lips lift in satisfaction at your approval.

He’s just ready to ruin you. 

His strokes become more heavy, the overstimulation shutting your brain off. Nothing but pleasure is surging through your nerves now. You’re even holding up your legs so Sylus can fuck you deeper. 

“Now be a good girl and take all of it”, he mutters huskily, burying his face against the crook of your neck, his eyes snapped shut and his eyebrows furrowed. 

Despite the fact that you don’t get to see the way Sylus’s face contorts in pleasure when his orgasm hits him, his groans right in your ears serve you satisfied for now while thick white spurts into your abused pussy, filling you up all the way, some seeping past your plugged hole. 

You don’t realise how much you’ve clawed down Sylus’s back while he was emptying himself into you. 

Well, he doesn’t need to know anyway. 

Sylus stays above you for a moment, the both of you catching your breaths. He still has the energy to plant more bites on your neck while you stroke his hair. 

He pulls back to look at your face properly, and all you can think of is how fucking good he looks post-fuck—messy, sweaty, and so fucking delicious-looking. His fingers brush away your strands of hair, and his thumb caresses your bottom lip. 

It was almost inhuman how fast he jumped up from his office chair to inform Yvonne that he would be out for the remainder of the afternoon, because oh was he feeling downright horrible.

He was back at your shared apartment in no time, pushing the door open and setting his shoes in the nook positioned in the entryway.

(He had a bad habit of trucking on the hardwood floors without removing his shoes, and considering he was already on your shit-list, he made sure to do it now.)

“Honey?” he calls out to you, making his way towards your closed bedroom door. “Sweetheart, I’m home.”

Zayne’s eyebrows raise as he glances around, finding that your apartment looks rather empty and desolate. “I’d like to apologize. I know I haven’t been present for you lately and—”

And then, he hears something. Something that makes him stop in his tracks. His eyebrow quirks up with intrigue as he presses his ear to the door, listening in.

He’d know those beautiful sounds anywhere, even if it’d been awhile since he had lured them out of you himself. Your moans were muffled by the door, but they were enough to make his cock stiffen up beneath the fabric of his black slacks.

“God… please,” you muttered, clearly out of breath and in frustration. “Damn it!”

Behind the door, you were resting on his side of the bed, hoping that his scent would be enough to make you finish. Your fingers toyed with your clit as you desperately tried to get yourself off, but nothing seemed to be working.

Zayne was practiced in a way that only he could be. He knew female anatomy better than you did, but more importantly, he took pride in learning yours. He knew what you liked and what you didn’t, what made you crumble and cry out.

And now that you’ve gone without him for so long, you’re finding yourself more pent up than ever. A huff of frustration leaves your lips as you try again, again, and again—only to be edged with your release without reaping the benefits of it.

He exhales, twisting the doorknob as he cracks the door open. To no surprise, there you were, sitting on his side of the bed with your hand slipped beneath the fabric of your panties.

You hardly looked horrified at the sight of him, more so desperate if anything. He pulls his tie loose as he takes a few steps towards the bed, his knees finding the plush comforter as he sinks onto his stomach.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, almost sounding sympathetic. He runs his hands over your thighs as he hikes them over his shoulders. “Let me see.”

You roll your eyes. “Who’s to say that you deserve to?”

Zayne gives you a look that you know all too well, one that silently reads ‘girl, are you serious?’ And no, you aren’t serious by any means, so you nod your head to give him your permission.

He pulls the damp fabric of your panties to the side, his gaze slimming as he sets eyes on your cunt for the first time in what feels like forever. (It’s only been two weeks at most, but you’re both awfully dramatic.)

“I’m sorry,” he speaks into your heat, almost as if he were apologizing to both you and your pussy. He raises his eyes to yours as he flattens his soft tongue to swipe along your wet folds. He moans at the mere taste of you, his grip on your thighs tightening as he pulls you even closer to him. “I had no idea. Truly, baby, I didn’t.”

You whine at the sensation of his gentle voice rumbling against your sensitive skin, your hand delving into his hair. “No idea about—hah—what?”

Zayne takes a moment to reply. His mouth is certainly distracted with the way it’s buried into your soaking cunt while his tongue laps at your inner lips, his nose brushing against your clit with each movement he makes.

“I hadn’t realized I was neglecting your needs,” he clarifies, cracking his eyes open just enough to look at you with hollowed cheeks as he sucks onto your sensitive bundle of nerves.

He releases it with a ‘pop’, his tongue quickly replacing his lips as he curls it in up and down motions that stimulate you in ways you can’t even comprehend. “My girl is too sweet to be treated like that,” he whispers, thumbing at your folds to give himself better access.

One of his hands continues to rub your thighs for some sort of comfort for his behavior, and soon, the other reaches up to take your hand in his own. You squeeze onto it immediately, finding the gesture to be much appreciated.

“So, you… mmh— you remember I exist after all?” Your words are meant as a joke, but he doesn’t seem to consider them as such with the way he presses a kiss to your clit before pulling away.

“Honey, I’m being serious,” he murmurs, resting his cheek on your thigh. “I’d never want to make it seem like I don’t consider you and your feelings.”

He gives your hand a squeeze before he smiles, adding an earnest, “and truth be told, I’m rather surprised that I’ve gone so long without tasting this pretty pussy of yours,” before he delves right back into eating you out like a man starved.

Zayne hasn’t noticed it until now, but he truly was starving, and not for the lunch that he left on his desk back at Akso Hospital. He wasn’t much for alcohol, but getting drunk on your pussy was one of his favorite pastimes, and he’ll never go this long without doing it again.

He was a man of science, and even then, he would never be able to explain the chemical imbalance that tasting you set off in his brain. Sure, medically speaking, the preoptic area of the brain is what triggers an erection, but what you did to him was far beyond that.

It was safe to say that Zayne was almost as in love with your pussy as he was with you, and judging by the way he’s making out with it right now, you have no doubts about that.

Your head tilts back against the headboard as he reintroduces his middle finger to your entrance, feeling the way your walls clench around it.

“Mm, quite sensitive, are we?” he lowly asks, licking a few swipes at your clit before adding, “Is it because you’ve been using your own hand for quite some time now?”

It’s almost pathetic how quickly you nod, your fingers grasping onto his dark locks as he presses an open-mouthed kiss onto your folds. “It’s the only choice I had,” you whine.

(He makes a mental note to give you his credit card so that you can purchase anything and everything you’ll need in order to satisfy yourself whenever he isn’t around. The fact that he hasn’t thought of that sooner is a problem in and of itself.)

He nods in return, though the movement only invites him to make hard licks at your pussy, collecting your slick on his tongue. His cock is rock hard, but he’ll get his turn soon enough.

Even if his turn never came, he’d be more than happy with this alone—that much was incredibly evident.

“I know it, my love,” he whispers, pressing a kiss on your sensitive clit as he slides another finger into your hole. “Is this alright?”

Your thighs tense up at the sensation, but you nod, tilting your head down to look at him. With your permission, he continues, his tongue swiping at you while his fingers fuck you into oblivion.

When you tilt your head back, he squeezes your thigh. “Eyes down here, I need you to watch closely.”

A sharp whine escaped you as his mouth somehow latched onto your pussy in the time it took you to look at him. He pulls off of you to speak, his lips coated with your arousal. “There will be times like this in which I won’t be able to give you what you need, and as much as it kills me, your pleasure can’t be limited to the times I can have you like this.”

You tilt your head. “What… what do you mean?”

Zayne nods his head, urging you to tune in. He curls fingers inside of you, hitting your g-spot with each push. “Hm. I suppose I can teach you how to touch yourself a bit more effectively. Would you like that?”

Your hand goes flying to his shoulder as you nod, your teeth pressing down onto your bottom lip. “Hah… mhm.”

He nods, grasping onto your hand. He presses a few kisses on your knuckles as he guides it to your clit, helping you swirl the pads of your fingers around it in smooth, moan-earning circles. “Very good. You look happier with me already.”

“You’re still a jerk,” you huff.

“I’m sure I have been behaving like one, yes,” he murmurs with a laugh. “Don’t let me off the hook too easily, either. I need to get a few orgasms out of you before you should consider that.”

That sounds perfectly fine to you, so all you do is moan in reply, which makes him smile. He likes to please his woman, and knowing that he hasn’t done a good job of that makes him even more determined to make up for it.

“It’s okay to use two hands, sweet girl,” he continues teaching, tilting his head towards his own hand that was still thrusting two fingers inside of you. “While it may be mine right now, yours will work just the same.”

Something switches inside of you the moment he begins to help you masturbate, his own fingers fucking inside of you while yours stimulate another part of your puffy cunt. You always had a thing for acts of service, but when it came from your boyfriend, you were practically putty in his hands.

“That’s right,” he purrs, a smile tugging on his lips. “Such a pretty girl. Perhaps you just needed to be reminded of how to treat yourself.”

His hazel eyes are still on your face, watching as you pinch in absolute ecstasy, your thighs shaking on his shoulders. “I see that I’ve underestimated you,” he teases, dipping his head to lick at your folds, his tongue brushing against your fingers as he continues to guide the movements of your hand. “It seems like you’re doing just fine for yourself after all.”

You huff, shaking your head. “No, no… it’s all you.”

Zayne chuckles at that, sucking your fingers that were circling your clit into his mouth before he places them back on your sensitive pearl, giving you a bit more lubricant. “There’s no need to be so hard on yourself, I’m merely helping you. We’re practicing together, sweetheart,”

You almost roll your eyes at that, because the last thing Zayne needed was practice on how to please you. He may have been a bit distracted, but that could never take away from how perfect of a lover he was.

And… it was difficult not to be hard on yourself when he’s practically taken away your ability to orgasm on your own. With the way he’s making you feel right now, his absence was almost worth it.

Your eyes haze over as you look down at him, a soft moan leaving your lips. “Mmh, ‘m gonna cum,” you choke out.

To that, he nods in understanding. He thumbs apart your folds, leaving you to play with yourself as you please while he dips his head in to lick at your cunt in any way he can, feeling the way you clench around his fingers. “That’s right. Look at you, honey, such a quick learner.”

Zayne grasps onto your thigh with his free hand, pressing a few wet kisses along your inner skin as you come down from your high. Your hand still has a death grip on his hair, but he doesn’t mind it. He knows that he deserves to lose a few strands of hair after how he has left you alone.

You pant, your chest heaving as your body reels from your orgasm. While your vision is blurry, you can still make out the picture of your boyfriend sucking his fingers into his mouth, cleaning them free of your release.

“Mm, you know, the release from an orgasm does much to calm people,” he murmurs, giving your mound a chaste kiss before he rises up to give you one on your forehead. “Do you feel any better, my dear?”

You do feel better, but a part of you, one that you can’t quite shove away, is still yearning for more. Despite that, you nod, brushing your hand along his cheek as he dips his head to give you a kiss.

Sugary and sweet are two words you’d used to describe kissing Zayne, because those were adjectives you’d also use to detail how he always behaves when around you.

He pulls away from the kiss, propping himself up on his elbow above you while he uses his other hand to brush away your hair. “I really am sorry,” he whispers, his voice soft and full of a raw honesty that makes your heart squeeze.

You shake your head with a smile. “I know you didn’t mean to,” you reply. “It’s just… you made me feel like you didn’t need me, like what I felt was one sided.”

Zayne’s expression seems to soften as he shakes his head. “Of course I need you, I always need you. Your needs are never one-sided, especially not needs of this nature.”

He brushes his hand over your cheek. “And I was serious about my endeavors of making it up to you, sweetness. C’mere.”

Before you know it, you’re plucked from your position on the bed and carried to the corner of the bedroom. Zayne takes a seat in the rocking chair positioned there, spinning it around until it faces the body length mirror just in front of the two of you.

He then undresses you entirely, kissing along your thighs, your hips, the curves of your back, on the cheek of your ass—everywhere and anywhere he could. Sure enough, you hear the rattling of his metal belt buckle behind you, and when you glance over your shoulder, his cock is pulled out from the confines of his boxers.

His slacks are still bunched up around his thighs, as are his boxers, but he pays no mind to it. He raises two fingers as he beckons you to sit in his lap, and you do.

Zayne rests one hand on your hip while the other grasps onto his shaft, pumping it in his first a few times before he smears the head of his cock along your folds, gathering your slick. “The ‘teaching’ is over, but now, I simply want to show you just how much I need you.”

His words stir something within you, and when he leans up to press a kiss on your shoulder, you already feel like your lover is here to live up to his word. “Is that alright?” he asks against your skin, prodding your entrance with his tip.

When you nod, you’re already sinking down, taking him inch by inch until you’re cockwarming his thick length. He smiles at you in the reflection of the mirror, his eyes drifting over your body that he will never forget to worship again.

“So beautiful,” he coos, his hands mapping out the curves of your waist, your hips, your thighs. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

Your cheeks flush at his words. “Thanks.”

Zayne shakes his head. “There’s no need to thank me for speaking the truth,” he whispers. “That’d be like thanking Einstein for developing the theories of special and general relativity—it’s practically a given.”

You aren’t sure where the correlation is, but when one of his hands slips in between your thighs while the other grasps onto one of your breasts, you don’t care about fighting it out.

“Point is, I mean it. Every word,” he adds.

You feel like a goddess being worshiped as his mouth finds your shoulder, the smacking of his lips omitting into the otherwise quiet room as he places open-mouthed kisses on your skin. His middle and ring finger work to toy with your clit, his other hand squeezing onto your breast.

And then… he begins to rock.

You gasp at the feeling of his cock just barely moving inside of you, your body entirely engulfed in the sensations that he is so eagerly providing you.

“You feel—hah—so, so good,” he whispers against your skin, his lips climbing the curve of your shoulder. His fingers circle your clit at an agonizingly slow pace, and when you place your hand on his to guide his movements, he smiles at you in the reflection. “There’s my girl. Such a quick learner, just like I said.”

You lazily return his smile, your head resting back on his shoulder. He removes his hand from your breast to pluck his glasses from his face, placing them on yours instead.

“My baby is such a smart girl,” he purrs, his lips finding your neck as he admires you. Flushed skin, hair messed up, his glasses resting on your nose. He could come inside you at the sight, but he wants to prolong this. He doesn’t ever want to leave this moment with you. “And so beautiful too. Absolutely ravishing.”

You chuckle at that, though your laughter was interrupted by a soft moan as his fingers pick up the pace as they circle your puffy clit. “You’re… hah—handsome,” you manage to return.

Zayne chuckles at your words, nodding his head as a silent thank you. He presses another kiss on your shoulder, though he quickly leaves another one once you begin to rock your hips. He sits back, catching a glimpse of how you look when you bounce on his cock.

He grins, his hand finding the swell of your ass as he gives both cheeks a nice squeeze. “We can move back to our bed if you’d prefer, sweetheart. I don’t want you to have to put in any more effort into your pleasure tonight.”

You shake your head, glancing over your shoulder to look at him. “I wanna see you,” you breathe.

“Honey, there are positions—”

He’s interrupted by your hand reaching back to hold his jaw, pulling him up so that he too could see the reflection of you both in the mirror.

And oh, was it a sight.

“I wanna see you,” you repeat.

Zayne is in no position to deny you, so with a nod of approval, his hands find your hips. “At the very least, let me help you.”

The sound of slapping skin and your breathy moans fill the room, his large hands keeping their iron grip on your hip bones while your hands rest on top of his. He peers out from behind you, watching as your tits bounce just as you do, your hair flying messily.

“Pretty baby,” he pants, more to himself in reaction to the mere sight of you. “Such a lucky man you’ve made me, fuck… take it, baby, yeah. I love you so much, so much…” he babbles, not quite sure what he’s saying, just that he’s speaking whatever graces his mind.

“Oh, I… I love you too, Zayne,” you gasp.

You whine, grinding your hips in fluid motions as you feel your second orgasm quickly approaching. You were sensitive to begin with, and the feeling of his cock stretching you out was more than enough to bring you here.

“Shit,” he rasps, his head falling back onto the rocking chair as his eyes screw shut. “You take me so well, you fit me so perfectly, baby… I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna… oh, shit.”

You weren’t far behind him, and as your movements grow lazier, you opt to sit on his cock entirely as the both of you find your orgasms only second apart.

Ropes of white paint your insides, your cum coating the base of his cock as the two of you become one in a way that you’ve missed so dearly.

Only bliss envelopes the two of you as you slump back onto his chest, his arm wrapping around your waist to hold you close to him. The two of you sit just like that for a moment as you find your breaths that have run off, relishing in the feeling of your combined warmth.

Zayne reaches up to carefully grasp your jaw, turning your head back just enough so that he could kiss you. Your breaths mingle to add to the scent of your love that looms in the air, his other hand running soothing strides along your hip.

“I don’t deserve you,” he breathlessly says with a lovesick grin. “Quite frankly, I don’t. You’re wonderful to me.”

You shake your head, leaning down to kiss him again before he slowly helps you up onto your trembling legs. “Oh, stop that. Just because you’ve been a little caught up with work doesn’t mean that you’re suddenly a bad partner.”

Zayne sweeps you into his arms, carrying you bridal style towards the bathroom. “See? You’re simply too good to me. Such a lovely personality, the most contagious laugh I’ve ever heard, the cutest snores when you sleep, the sweetest pussy in existence… my dream girl in all capacities.”

You smile as he sets you down, pressing a kiss onto your forehead as he crosses the room to draw you a shower to your liking. Warm—not cold, but not hot enough to the point that your skin tingles. He’s had plenty of practice in this area, and he’s gotten it down to a science by now.

“I do not snore,” you murmur, shaking your head.

As he peels off his clothes, discarding them without care on the bathroom tile. He extends his hand to you to invite you inside the shower behind him. “Mhm, sure you don’t.”

You scoff, tipping the toilet seat shut. “You can tease me for my snoring once you, my 27-year-old man, master the art of putting the damn seat down.”

“…Oops.”

note. my dr. zayne would never forget to please his woman! but i really liked the concept sooooo :3 it was rly difficult for me to write him lol the dialogue might suuuuuckkkk but i hope i did him justice < 3 thank you for reading, interact if you enjoyed !!!

i ALSO kinda wanna do a similar version of this with sylus except… not nearly as gentle ig?? would you be interested??? do let me know.

“Please.” You whined. 

“You sound like you didn’t cause this.” The lack of empathy on his face only makes it worse. Only makes your skin burn and gather sweat, barely filling your lungs. The underside of his cock pushing back and forth through your slit, wet and loud in your eyes. “You did this to yourself.” His words mock you just as much as your arousal does. Evidence of how many times you’ve come, of how your body is spent and can’t stop giving itself over to him. Letting him pull, take, and use you. 

The more his mouth sucks at your clit, the more his fingers curl up inside of you and press against your walls, the more you gush around him. His eyes on yours when you declare you can’t come anymore, and he pulls another from you. 

He allows your fingers to dig into his hair to try and push him away from your swollen cunt. The corner of his mouth pulled up when the flick of his wrist has your hands unable to move. 

Making a show of how powerless you truly are against him in so many ways. So many ways that should fill you with fear. Should anger you. But only heat your cheeks in the opposite effect. The reasons as to why you ran from him long forgotten, long regretted, long praised and thanked by the haze of pleasure, want, the need to rest—to be devoured by him. 

An overwhelming feeling of not being whole, not being able to be put back together unless it’s by his hands taking you apart in the first place. 

His fingers dig into your wrists, your knees pressed against his chest, pushing your ass up from the bed enough to have his hips driving deeper, harder, against it. The tip of his cock hits that part of your pussy that no longer aches when he’s this deep. When your walls are this swollen and fluttering around the thickness of him. 

His mouth leaves bites against your jaw, “are you going to leave me again?” You shake your head, tears sting your eyes, your body spent and overstimulated yet still pulling him in. Still aching for another release and to be awarded his. 

He groans against your cheek, “all I’ve shown you, given you, and you run from me. What happened to my good little acolyte?” His dark eyes look down at you, a hand at the crown of your head, thumb rubbing a soothing circle against your skull. “Are you still my girl?”

It’s hard to concentrate when that distracting, throbbing sensation- arousal, you remember Anthony had called it- is an incessant presence in your dampened core. It’s especially hard to concentrate when the source of said arousal is sitting just beside you, with his dark brows and deep brown eyes and his skilled hands easily cutting through the meat on his plate, tendons flexing and veins-

You force yourself to look away.

You only manage for some time, however, as the conversation doesn’t interest you the way that Anthony’s handsome face and busy fingers do. He must catch the way you stare- as he spares you a glance and a fleeting smile, before quickly turning back to whoever’s speaking. You’re embarrassed to realize that that brief acknowledgment from your husband, that glance and that grin, were enough to heighten your arousal tenfold.

As you sit, staring and squirming, the constant pulsing of your cunt becomes unbearable. You’re desperate for attention- needy, as Anthony would say- and you know exactly how to get it.

You allow one hand to wander from its spot in your lap, abandoning the other it was neatly folded with in favor of resting on the clothed expanse of Anthony’s thigh. Immediately the man takes notice, head snapping to the side as he meets you with a questioning gaze, brow raised as if to say what exactly do you think you’re doing?

You simply give him a kind, deceptively innocent smile in return, and to your delight, Anthony seems satisfied to pass it off as an affectionate gesture, and turns his attention back to the discussion.

Unlike your husband, you have no intention of returning to the conversation at hand, as your touch moves inwards, approaching the apex of his thighs and the phallic prize hidden there beneath his trousers. Anthony gives you no time to claim your prize, however, as the moment he notices your hand begin its journey inwards, his own is coming down quickly, fingers curling around your wrist and effectively stopping all movement.

“What on Earth are you playing at?” The man whispers lowly, quiet enough that no one else can hear but cutting enough that you do not miss the fury behind it. Despite your perceived boldness, a bashful heat floods your cheeks. Somehow, you manage to maintain an air of innocence as you respond.

“Whatever do you mean, dearest?”

Anthony’s eyes narrow, brows furrowing in obvious suspicion. His fingers tighten around your wrist, giving a warning squeeze.

“Forget it, perhaps I’m reading too far into the subject.” He says, though it’s clear he doesn’t believe the words himself. “It would fare you well to keep your hands to yourself. Lunch will be over in no time at all.”

Again, you offer the man an innocent smile and a nod of understanding, turning back to your plate and taking a small bite of food. You can feel Anthony’s eyes on you for a moment longer, searching your face for any signs of mischief, before he tunes into the conversation once more.

You go right back to teasing, however now you waste no time in getting down to what you really want. You reach right out, free from hesitancy, and place your hand directly on the crotch of Anthony’s trousers, giving a gentle squeeze. The man gasps, and a clatter rings out in the room as his fork slips from his fingers and hits the porcelain of his lunch plate.

The entire table turns to him, shocked concern visible on their features, and you have to work to keep your lips from forming a sly grin. The man clears his throat, mind racing to quickly think up an excuse for his sudden outburst.

“Oh no, love, you say you’re feeling warm?” He asks you with feigned worry, bringing the back of his hand up to press against your forehead. “Perhaps you’ve fallen ill.”

“Heavens!” Violet exclaims, voice laced with concern. “The poor thing- you must go get some rest if you’re feeling unwell. Anthony, escort the lady to your chambers, allow her to rest there for the remainder of the afternoon.”

Anthony gives his mother a tight lipped smile.

“Of course, mother.” He intones, rising to his feet and holding a hand out to you. “Come along, dear, let’s get you taken care of.”

Your heart flutters at his insinuation as you accept his offered hand, letting the man pull you into a standing position. He maintains his grip on your palm as his other hand finds the small of your back, and he uses the firm presence there to guide you away from the dining table and into the next room, towards the stairway to the chamber storey.

“Are you mad?” The man inquires in a harsh whisper as soon as he’s out of the others’ earshot. “Are you not aware of how vastly inappropriate that was?”

“But Anthony, I was under the impression you enjoy when I touch you there.” You quip, still with a feigned innocence, though now you allow undertones of smugness to seep into your voice. A low growl reverberates from the man’s throat.

“The lunch table is hardly the time or place for such behavior.” He fumes, and before you can offer another clever retort, he’s boxing you in against the wall of the foyer, just beside the grand staircase.

“Anthony, what-“

“This is what you desired, is it not? To be taken publicly like some common harlot” He interjects your bewildered query with a scornful one of his own. His hands get to work bunching up the lengthy material of your dress.

You fail to answer him, forced into a shocked silence by his words and his swift movements to pull down the thin fabric of your knickers. You shiver as your damp folds are exposed to the open air.

“Well? Am I mistaken, doll?” He urges, bringing a crooked finger up to lift your chin, forcing your bashful gaze to meet his eyes. His pupils quite nearly engulf his irises, the deep brown of them now narrow rings.

“What if someone sees us, Anthony?” You whisper nervously, eyes flitting to your right in fear of finding someone’s figure standing there, watching. Alas, no one’s there. Anthony leans forward to whisper his response in your ear.

“Then they’ll bear witness to how desperate you are for me. To the fact that you’re unable to make it through a single meal without having my cock buried deep inside your warm cunt.” He rasps, voice husky and dripping with filth. You shiver, a soft whimper escaping your lips at the lewd words.

“Please, Anthony.” You breathe out, fingers coming up to curl around his broad shoulders. With a low growl he crashes forwards, connecting his lips to yours in an intense, bruising kiss.

His familiar flavor floods your senses and makes your head swim. The kiss is more rough, more ferocious than you’re used to, your teasing clearly having pushed Anthony over the edge and wiped out any self control the man possessed. His tongue is impatient as it pushes past your lips and explores your mouth with fervor, gliding past your teeth and mingling with yours in a manner that has fresh slick pooling between your legs.

You feel movement between your body and his as Anthony reaches down to lower his breeches enough to free his hard length from its confines. His mouth remains on yours as he runs the head of his cock through your damp folds, pulling a breathy moan from you that he promptly swallows.

“Stay quiet, doll.” He murmurs lowly, still close enough that his warm breath tickles the swollen pillows of your lips. “Behave for me- we wouldn’t want to taint your exemplary reputation, would we?”

You open your mouth to respond, but at that very moment Anthony pushes forward, sheathing his cock in your warm heat in one fluid motion. A lewd moan escapes you rather than words, and Anthony wears an arrogant grin at having rendered you inarticulate.

“That’s it, dove. That’s what you crave, isn’t it? The only thing that will satisfy you is being taken by my cock.” He taunts, the rumble of his usual baritone lowered further with lust, heightening your own arousal.

“Y-yes, Anthony, oh” your response ends in a pleasured gasp as he thrusts into you, his tip spongeing over that particular spot that has your head falling back against the wall and your toes curling within your shoes.

“Here, love-“ Anthony murmurs, hands moving to grip your thighs and lift you up, coaxing your legs to wrap around his waist to hold yourself up. You moan as the leverage of the new position allows his cock to reach new depths, to prod at sensitive spots within you, to fill you to the hilt.

A large hand clamps over your mouth at your exclamation, the other remaining a stable support on your thigh as he thrusts upwards into you.

“Shhh- oh fuck” Anthony grits out, volume far more controlled than your own as you cry out beneath his silencing palm. “Quiet down, doll. While I may be fucking you like a wench that doesn’t give you reason to sound like one.”

His words only spur on your moans, your eyes rolling back as you grip desperately at the man’s shoulders for stability. Your back rubs against the wall as you bounce with the force of his thrusts, the continuous deep drag of his cock coaxing you closer and closer to your impending climax.

Anthony leans down, lips smearing over your clavicle, muffling the soft grunts that spill from his lips against your heated skin. The sensation adds to the eroticism of the entire experience- getting fucked right in the foyer by your husband, dress bunched up and trousers lowered, the snap of his hips frantic, the touch of his lips wet and sloppy. There’s nothing tender about it, it’s fast and rough and simply a desperate race towards the release that you both crave at a primal level.

And you reach that release together- his hips staggering just as your walls tighten, a gruff growl reverberating from his chest just as pure pleasure thrills through you. Your orgasm crashes down like tidal waves, intense and sudden and so overwhelmingly euphoric that you’re quite sure you leave planet Earth for a moment as you float in the heights of rapture.

You feel the warmth of Anthony’s seed coat your inner walls as he experiences his own ecstasy. He falls limp against you, his body holding you against the wall with nothing more than the weight of it.

His hand falls from your mouth now that you’re silent save for your panting breaths, still save for the slight trembling of your body in the wake of your orgasm. The hand returns to your other thigh to hold you up as he pulls back from the wall, at the same time pulling his cock from the channel of your cunt with a lewd squelch.

You unhook your ankles at the small of his back, letting your legs lower and your feet meet the floor once more, the tired limbs serving as shaky supports for your lethargic form.

“Do you feel better now?” Anthony muses as he replaces your knickers up on the swell of your hips, then lets your dress fall and cover the expanse of your legs. He smooths the material down with his hands. “Not quite so needy?”

“Yes, Anthony, I feel much better.”

“Good.” He intones, tucking himself back into his trousers. “Then let us get you upstairs, cleaned up, and into bed. You can take a nice rest, and delight the family with your speedy recovery come morning.”

The moons paint the water in a shimmering light that bathes its surface in sapphire that fades to the deepest of blacks the longer you stare into it. The waves that hit against the ragged stones are like a siren call to your aching body. 

Your muscles are still tight and coiled from earlier. Your molars grind together when you lift your arms to pull off your ruined and stained clothes. A burning sensation felt through your body as the fabric covering your torso moved against every burn, cut, and bruise you had acquired tonight. 

You didn’t stop by a reflective surface to check how many battle scars you’d earned. Badges of honor. More wounds worn like metals placed on your neck by a pleased master. Wounds, he’ll help you heal, stitch up, seal with the press of his palm to the tattered skin—stolen supplies from planets you can’t remember the name of with faces you can only remember the dead eyes of, used on the ones that don’t close up right.

The moonlight makes them look less serious. The illumination colored the dried blood and tissue into something misty. Almost tantalizing to the eye. Unlike the light of day, where you’re sure it will look less glamorizing. The ugly truth of the way your skin is going to bubble up and mold over to protect itself once the healing process begins is less glaring in this hue. 

Your toe dips into the water. It’s always warmer than you think it to be. Always welcoming you in like it’s been waiting for you to return. Waiting to wash away the grim and blood that seemed more permanent on your skin than your own flesh. 

You wade at the edge for a bit, pushing around the water with your feet. The water wading at your ankles. 

The ringing hasn’t stopped. 

It rarely does until you’ve closed your eyes and settled it. Until your body is less taut, muscles released from the on switch of fight. The power inside your veins thrumming like a wasp trying to free itself from the tissue of your bones. 

As if it had gotten stuck in there and couldn’t find its way out. Refusing to settle down or leave until you’ve maimed, avenged, and proved yourself—leaving your body and muscles in their current state. 

You’re not worried about something being in the water. If there were, you would have been able to feel it. Sense it’s beating heart and the danger of allowing it to keep beating. You’re alone as you walk further into the water, sinking into it’s depths until your body is completely engulfed. Your neck and head the only things going untouched. 

The freshly made badges on your skin burn when you scrub your thumb along the edges of them. Specks of dried blood float along the surface of the water before they’re lost to the darkness below. 

Amongst the ringing in your head, you can hear the screams of anger that tore from your lungs when the Jedi had gotten the upper hand. The green of his saber leaving red against your skin. Making your moves turn from confident to something rage fueled. 

Somewhere among the ringing, you know his scream is in there. Amongst the many cries for help and cracking bones. 

They always linger. Always hold on like a power pack to your dark side. 

You know your body won’t fully relax until you’ve stopped the ringing, though. You didn’t believe in blessings or curses. Bad fortune or good. Everyone’s life ended the same way. If you did believe in the farce, you would think the ringing that goes from the base of your skull to the drums of your ears was a curse. 

A quiet mind is a blessing. 

The buzz of the force within you too heady when you're in the throes of battle. War. Darkness. It’s always been like that. Even before him. 

It’s only gotten worse with him beside you. Like the bond the two of you had opened too much too deep and you feel everything more clearly. More unfortunately. 

He taught you how to silence it. To reign it in after the adrenaline and pace of your heart slowed. 

There were still things you had to learn. Things you were kept from knowing by your old master, the one who only saw one way to wield your power. A cowardly excuse for a master whose burial you wish you could have witnessed. 

It’s aggravating, almost. Anger inducing for sure. 

Someone not believing you are capable of knowing the truth about the power you wield. It’s criminal to not allow someone to be their true self all because of a set of rules that only benefited one group of people. One way of living, when there were so many. 

Your aggravation has faded by now. The anger is still there and buzzes through you. But you no longer feel like a part of you has been held back. Stunted and aching like your chest had for years—as if a rock had found itself in the base of your heart and took up rent there—until Qimir showed you the way. 

Your true self. 

Your full potential and all you were capable of. 

All that had been inside of you, held back for so long. 

Filling your lungs with air, you sink yourself under the water and hold yourself there. Eyes closing as you center yourself. Slow the wasp in your marrow to something dull. Stop the ringing in your ears until all you can hear is the hum of the water hitting the rock above the surface. 

Just you and the force. 

Just you and the water. 

Until you feel him. 

Until he’s there inside your mind.

Until you feel a hand at the base of your skull, fingertips brushing at the nape of your neck to let you know he’s not just in your head. He’s beside you.

Your eyes meet once you’ve filled your lungs with air again, and you wipe the water droplets from your lids. 

You watch him splash water against his neck, running the palm of his hand along the dirt and grime that clings to his skin. Cleaning himself of any traces of the deaths the two of you have left in your wake tonight. 

His calm demeanor always pulls you back from the edge. Always brings a calmness to your blood. To the beating of your heart. Even when shit has gone haywire, his demeanor never switches up. Never slips into something that could be labeled as sloppy or driven by anything other than who he truly is. What he’s made of. 

His calm seeping through your shared bond until you have no choice but to relax.

The handful of times you’ve seen that calmness turn into something animalistic, it’s made you envious, on the same hand, it’s made the space between your thighs burn. 

“You did well tonight.” 

“The smell of my burning flesh still clinging to my senses says differently.” 

The corner of his mouth lifts in amusement, “you did well.” He repeats. Ducks his head forward to wet his hair. His fingers running through the strands, droplets falling down his face. Your eyes follow them all the way down the column of his neck to his chiseled collar bones. 

It doesn’t take one wielding the force to know what your mind is projecting. Doesn’t matter that the two of you share a part of your brain. The thoughts of past nights spent together, Qimir teaching you the ways desire can be wielded and used to your advantage—or disadvantage, depending on how you look at it. 

Your face turns from him. Eyes moving up to the moon. 

Trying to hold back your thoughts the way he taught you. Even if it is futile against him.

“How do you feel?” 

Has the ringing stopped, Is what he’s really asking. Do you need another lesson? Are you still weakened by that ailment? That curse? 

Except he wouldn’t be as dramatic as that. Not with this. Not ever. Especially when it came to your power. Your capabilities. The perfect little acolyte he’s trained you to be. 

“Fine.” Your answer clipped, honest. Because you are fine, and your stubbornness will not allow you to let this turn into another lesson about you not being able to be as calm and collected as he is. No shadows of doubt lingering over who he truly is. His purpose. His wants. His desires. His darkness. 

He’s always been able to read right through you, though. Even without taking up space in your being. The force has little to do with that fact. 

You were never afraid of the darkness that lived inside of you. Never afraid of the power you could wield and the lives you could take. 

The only time you’ve felt true fear is being seen. 

Accepted. 

The potential to let someone of importance down and not withhold your end of a deal you’ve inked your name in blood just to be beside. To prove yourself to someone who’s your equal. Another half of your very being.

His face shows nothing but that calm amusement when he wades behind you. His fingers moving against your skin in an act to rid you of the spots of dirt you’ve missed on your neck and shoulders. 

Swallowing hard when his fingers scrape against past scars, he lingers there for a beat. Running the pad of them against the raised skin. A whisper in your head. 

You heal beautifully.

It’s a softness you’d never thought him to be capable of when you found out who he truly was. The man behind the mask. Even if the unmasking had been done unintentionally. 

It’s not softness you feel from his touch, though. No, his touch eases the strain in your muscles, only to gather itself in your belly. Your body burning with anticipation, knowing how this goes. 

How you’re rewarded when you impress him. 

When you do as you are told, your master is ever the generous one. 

“You’ve proven yourself tonight.” His lips brush against the tip of your spine, “killing without a weapon, not stopping until you were the last one standing. Freeing yourself from the ones who held you back for so long.” Your breath hitches in the back of your throat when his mouth presses down on that same spot at the beginning of your spine. 

A hand snaking around your throat, his palm wet and warm against your collarbones as he pulls your neck at just the right angle to have you looking at him. 

“Did it feel good?” 

“Yes.” You swallow, wrap your fingers around his wrist. “It always does.” You whisper, your eyes flashing down to the upturn of his lips. 

His nose runs along your cheek to your temple, his eyes closed, inhaling you. “I can always smell it. When you let yourself become one with the darkness. Right before you take a life.” His thumb runs a circle against the vein, which tells him the pace of your heart has picked up. As if he’d need it to know, as if the two of you don’t share something that links you completely to the other. “It still lingers. It’s distracting.” 

It’s not a question, but you nod. Your eyes flutter when he pushes his hips forward, and the hardness of his cock moves against your ass. 

He doesn’t ask permission, the two of you knowing you’re past such kindnesses, when his hand cups your mound. He knows what your body needs right now. What it wants, what it’s expecting. He can feel it too. His index and middle fingers spread your pussy, giving him access to that pleasure point on your body that only he knows how to stroke just right to have you pliant and singing for him. 

As if you were not already devoted to him. As if he were not your reason for being.

He’s your beginning, and you have no doubt he will be your end if it comes to it. 

The pad of his finger circles your clit in that slow way that lets you know he’s going to take his time with you. Going to drain every last bit of strain and tightness from your muscles, pushing that buzz between your legs and making him the only sound in your head—until he thinks you have had enough. 

Until your reward is good enough for him to be satisfied with how you took it. Until he knows your mind is back where it needs to be—here, with him. 

His mouth meets the hand at your throat, his teeth sinking into the parts his fingers aren’t pressing into. “You’re everything I could have hoped for.” His tongue laps against your pulse.

Perfect.

You may never know if he actually means the words; you can only feel what he allows you to feel through your shared connection. He’s better at blocking than you. But he knows you need to hear these praises. Knows how good and pliable it will make you. His words stoke the fire inside your soul that burns through your darkness. That allows you to become completely consumed by him and the desire to be on this side. 

Of being free. 

What he does allow you to feel lets you know there is some truth somewhere in there. You can feel it in how hard his cock thrusts against your ass when your body pushes back into him. You can feel it in the way his thoughts stream through your mind. 

So obedient.

Your cunt’s so greedy for me.

You’re mine.

The skin on your fingers stings from gripping the rocks in front of you. The pain you should feel from the heel of your palm digging into the jagged stones, lost in the haze of pleasure consuming your body. 

Qimir consuming every last part of your being. 

Taking over every dark corner of your mind and not letting you feel or hear anything but him.

Your moans become more shaky, your chest heaving as you pant and curse. The weight of the finger on your clit grows heavier, faster, deliriously good the more you near your orgasm. 

Your lips are moving in inaudible words. Words he understands, making him grin against your jaw. 

“You want my cock tonight?” You know he’s read your mind, or rather, your body. Know he can feel what you desire and crave. What your minds begging him for. “Hmm, do you think you’re deserving of that big of a prize? You spill a little blood, and suddenly you’re greedy.” He hums, “you did well. Do you think you deserve it, though? No?” 

Heat burns your cheeks; his chuckle makes you sob into the night air. The stubbornness to please and be as perfect as your counterpart wants you to be is not in favor of the mounting pressure that’s building in your pussy right now. 

“I already think you’re perfect; don’t push it.” His foot pushes easily at your ankles. Your thighs spread enough for the head of his cock to press against your entrance and thrust inside. 

“Mmm,” you whine at the stretch. Your eyes fluttering closed at your swollen walls being filled. Walls that tighten around him as he sets a fast pace. Matching the rhythm and stroke of his fingers. Sending your body on an overwhelming precipice of a carnal need to come. 

The heaviness of his breath as he says your name against your skin—the quick flashes of the pleasure he feels from being inside of you—is what finally sends you over the edge. 

Your orgasm rocking through you like a storm. Your body shaking against him, walls fluttering and squeezing around his cock, making him groan. Your throat raw and scratchy from the noise that’s pulled up from your lungs when everything in your body is set completely aflame. 

Your hand falling from the rocks, and pressing your nails into his wrist, trying to pull his hand from between your thighs. The over-stimulation of his finger moving against your clit even after your orgasm has passed makes you cry out and ripple the water around the two of you as you squirm. 

The tip of his cock hits that spot inside you that makes your vision go white. That falters your fight against his torment. 

"Is that right?" Frank asks, tilting his head with a mischievous glint in his eyes. His hands move down your body where they squeeze your ass, and he pulls you closer into him. "How about round four, hmm?"

"I have things to do that aren't you," You tell him stubbornly. "Now go, before I start to find you annoying and delete your number."

He fakes shock with a gasp, placing his hand on his chest. "You're breaking my heart, legs," He whines, before slowly sinking to his knees and nuzzling his face against your thighs. "C'mon. Just sit on my face again, mommy-"

You cut him off by grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling his head back, before leaning down and glaring at him. "Leave. Now."

Knowing not to push you, Frank does as you say, begrudgingly putting his clothes back on before walking out of your bedroom.

Not even five minutes of peace are granted to you before your door swings open again, making you groan with frustration. In walks Bucky, which only annoys you further.

"What do you want?" You ask, sitting down on the chaise lounge.

"Was that Castle I saw limping out of here?" He asks, narrowing his eyes.

You shrug, sinking lower in your seat. "Not my fault he's such a slut," You say simply.

"Says the one who's sent a different man limping home every day this week," He mumbles under his breath.

"Is that the only breach of privacy you wanna commit today, or do you have more bullshit to say to me?" You ask him with a glare.

He suddenly grimaces, turning his face. "Do you mind? It's 11 in the morning; I don't wanna see your pubes right now," He grumbles.

You tie up the gown with a snort and cross your right leg over your left.

Bucky looks disappointed as he looks around the room, taking in the empty bottles and filled ashtrays. "It's been three months, boss," He utters curtly, resting his hands on his hips. "You need to get your shit together."

"I don't need to do anything," You retort. "I'm the Queen of New York."

"Well, the Queen of New York needs a shower," He claps back, before narrowing his eyes. "And a shave."

"You can leave, now," You mumble.

He walks over to you, giving you a stern look. "Up, now. You have a meeting tonight," He says, looking you up and down. "And you gotta look good."

"Why?" You ask him with a frown.

"Because you're meeting the man that's gonna help us with our diamond-shaped problem," He says with a growing smirk.

Immediately, you sit up, and your eyes widen. "Seriously?" You scoff. "You got me a meeting with Stark?"

"The one and only," He replies smugly, before clapping his hands together. "Now, get your ass up and ready. You need to be ready by 7."

"That's, like, eight hours from now," You point out with a confused frown.

He raises his brow and looks away before mumbling, "And you'll need every minute."

Once you finally fit Bucky's beauty standards, he sends you on your way to the pretentious restaurant, which is filled with pretentious people who look too rich for their own good.

And the richest and most pretentious of all, of course, is your date.

"Have you tried the oysters here?" Tony asks you with a quirked brow. "They serve them with fried garlic, and it is divine."

Looking through the menu, you shake your head. "Can't say I have," You admit. "I usually get the ratatouille."

"Boring," He utters before smirking and raising his hand. "Garcon! We're ready to order."

He orders oysters and steak for the both of you, much to your chagrin as you were really looking forward to that fucking ratatouille, while you do your best to keep up a polite smile.

"And now she wants the Phantom, too," He finishes his long, long story with an incredulous scoff, before leaning forward and lowering his voice. "Word of advice, belle, don't get married. Or at least, not to a woman. They're vicious things, wives."

His words hit a nerve and you sit back in your seat, doing your best not to glare at him. "I appreciate the sordid tales, but I didn't come here to talk about marriage, Anthony," You remind him curtly. "I came here to-" You stop mid-sentence when you spot someone painfully familiar walking closer to you, and for a split second, you're convinced your heart has stopped beating.

It's as though time slows down. As though the other patrons and tables and lights and plates of food disappear into irrelevance and all you can see is him. That hasn't changed. The way everything loses significance when he's in the room. The way you realize that nothing could ever be as beautiful or captivating as him. Steve's hair is a little longer, his beard's a little thicker, and he's dressed like every other pretentious fat cat in the vicinity.

And he's being seated opposite the last person you wanted to see him with.

Natasha's grown out her hair, ditched the blonde, and gone back to her signature dark red, but you'd recognize her smug smirk through a paper bag. Neither of them notice you as the waiter talks them through the wine list but a stone's throw away from your table, and it takes every bit of your strength not to react.

"What is it?" Tony says suddenly, pulling you out of your thoughts. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Shaking your head, you clear your throat and sit up. "Nothing. I just... lost my train of thought," You say, noticing the impatient look in his eyes as he scans the room in search of a waiter.

"Let's get out of here and find a bar that sells real alcohol," He says arrogantly, turning his face and raising his hand once he spots a worker.

"No!" You say quickly out of panic as your eyes widen. Tony turns back to you, confused, and so you quickly reach out to rest your hand on his. "I want dessert. They do an amazing chocolate fondue here."

The fondue is sub-par, but something is making you want to stay. A certain blond-haired, blue-eyed something.

Tony narrows his eyes at you suspiciously just as the waiter approaches the table. "What can I do for you, Sir?" He asks politely with an expectant look.

For a few seconds, Tony says nothing, and you deflate. But then he holds up his hand. "Get us some fondue and fruit," He orders lowly, making you smile.

"Thank you," You say, feeling both relief and pure anxiety at the notion of being here any longer.

"This fondue better be incredible," Tony grumbles. "I wanted to go somewhere a little quieter, belle, so we could talk."

You know what he really means, so you flutter your eyelashes and smile sweetly at him, rubbing the back of his hand with your fingers. "We can talk here, Anthony," You say, tilting your head. "About whatever you want."

"Oh, really?" He asks you with a smirk as he becomes re-interested. "You mean you didn't just schedule this dinner because you need my help?"

"Of course that's part of it," You admit bashfully, slowly pulling off the thick, onyx ring from his middle finger. "But there's a reason I feel so comfortable coming to you for help. I wouldn't just wine and dine anyone."

He watches with amusement as you slip the ring onto your own finger, tilting his head. "And what's so great about me?" He asks, eagerly awaiting you to stroke his ego.

You open your mouth to answer but your eyes slip over to Steve again - and this time, he's looking back at you. Unsure as to when he noticed you were sitting there, you freeze in place. Fuck. What now?

Tony glances over his shoulder before looking back at you with a raised brow. "Ain't that the woman you want dead?" He asks.

Your eyes widen and you rip your gaze away from Steve, giving Tony all your attention. "What? No, I don't want Romanoff dead," You clarify. "She has something I need. Something she stole, that doesn't belong to her, over which she has no fucking right."

Taken aback by your passion, Tony whistles lowly. "Jeez. Must be something valuable, huh?" He theorizes.

Letting out a sigh, you rub your forehead. "It's a diamond. Rare and expensive," You explain.

"And she stole it from you?" He wonders.

"She might as well have," You grumble, before sitting back. "Look, I owe someone a debt, and this is how he wants it paid. I need the Elphora, and I don't know where the fuck she's stashed it."

"I see," He mutters, stroking his chin. "I'll have my guys look this over and see what we can do."

"Thank you, Anthony," You say with a smile. "I appreciate it. Really."

"Words are just words, belle," He says, smirking at you. "I need to see your appreciation through action, so I know you truly mean it."

Fuck's sake. You knew he wouldn't make it easy for you, but the thought of owing someone yet another debt is exhausting.

Glancing behind him, you see Natasha reach her hand out and place it on Steve's, stroking it. The sight fills you with a fiery rage, but you clench your jaw in an effort to contain yourself. Calling over a waiter, you wait until he walks over before leaning up to him.

"Do me a favor and send a bottle of the wine we had to that table over there," You request of him, nodding at Steve's table. The waiter nods and leaves.

"What's that about?" Tony questions you with a frown. "Sucking up to her?"

You shrug, leaning forward. "Something like that," You say before smiling at him and softening your voice. "Now, what were you saying? You want me to show my appreciation?"

Tony leans forward too, taking your hand in his and rubbing his finger over his ring you're still wearing. "I'm a very simple man, belle," He claims lowly. "I value the simple pleasures in life."

"Is that right?" You wonder, looking behind him at Steve who has just been served the bottle of wine you sent over. The waiter utters something to him and Natasha before all three of them glance over to you, and you give them a charming wave and smirk. Steve frowns, and you quickly look back at Tony.

"I wanna fuck you," He says bluntly, resting his chin on his hand.

Sighing, you sit back before uttering, "So much for subtlety."

"Subtlety is a waste of time with a woman in your position," Tony tells you smugly. "You're desperate for my help. You need a favor. This is my condition."

Tapping the table, you glance back over at Steve. Natasha's pouring him some wine, and he laughs softly at something she says before taking a long sip. He then looks at you, his smile faltering when he catches your eye. Once again, everything around you fades into irrelevance.

Snap out of it. He doesn't trust you. He hasn't tried to contact you once since you left him. He's sitting there on a date with Natasha fucking Romanoff. Who knows how long they've been seeing each other?

You turn your attention back to Tony and give him a smile. "Your place or mine?"

His smirk deepens. "And I'm supposed to believe that bedding the Queen of New York is that easy?" He asks you incredulously.

It makes you feel nauseous to be flirting with him when Steve is so close, but you tell yourself to toughen up and bite the bullet. You can see that Steve's watching through your peripheral vision, but you're glad that he is, because you want to hurt him as much as he's hurt you.

No, more.

Feeling as though the cold-hearted Queen you once knew has returned from the dead to possess your body, you stand up and walk across to Tony before sitting on his lap and draping your arms around his shoulders. He doesn't protest as you lean down and bring your lips to his, engaging him in a heated kiss. You can hear the blood rushing in your head as your ears pound. Tony's fingers digging into your hips feel like blunt daggers. The warmth from his body is cold and repelling, but you don't pull away. Is that the sound of Steve's heart breaking, or just Tony's teeth clashing against yours? His tongue isn't as sweet as Steve's, whose mouth is usually occupied with the lingering taste of cupcakes or cookies or brownies. The kiss is stale and loveless; a reflection of your life for the past three months.

Tony's the first to pull away. "As much as I'm enjoying warring with your tongue," He begins with a cocky grin. "Why don't you let me get the bill and take you back to my condo, rather than give all these nice people a peep show?"

Nodding, you get off of him and smooth down your dress. "I'm gonna go to the ladies room," You tell him, unable to spare Steve another glance before rushing off to the bathroom, not wanting to see the look on his face.

Just as you reach out to push the door to the women's bathroom open, you're pulled away. Prepared to grab your gun from your garter, you tense your muscles, relaxing when your back hits the wall and you're faced with none other than the owner of Stevie's Sweeties.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" You ask him gravely, glaring at him. Your heart is pounding in your chest and all you can think of to do is be cold and brutish, a defense mechanism you've had your whole life.

"We need to talk," Steve tells you, furrowing his brows.

"No, Steven, we don't," You counter curtly. "You said more than enough the day I walked out, which ironically wasn't much at all."

"This isn't about you and I," He informs you. "It's about the diamond."

His words only serve to offend you and your ego is bruised, because a small part of you was hoping he was about to beg you to take him back.

"What do you know about the diamond?" You interrogate him incredulously.

"More than you," He claims. "Natasha-"

"I don't know what the fuck you think this is, Steven, but I'm not about to sit here discussing my job with you," You cut him off coldly.

Ignoring you, he continues, "There's more to this than you think. That diamond never belonged to Maximoff. Not rightfully, anyway."

"Oh, please," You scoff. "Is that what Tasha told you?"

"No," He says, taking you by surprising. "This goes deeper than you know."

"Don't patronize me," You hiss, pushing him back. "I don't give a fuck who the diamond belongs to. Pietro wants it, and I owe it to him."

"And you're gonna use that guy to get it?" Steve asks you bitterly.

You smirk, tilting your head. "Aw, are you jealous?" You ask him with faux sympathy. "Was it hard watching me kiss him, button?"

Clenching his jaw, he steps backwards. "Just hear me out, Y/N-"

"I'd rather go back to Stark's place and fuck him," You say bluntly. "Thanks for the offer, though."

"Y/N," He whispers, his broken tone making your chest ache.

Stay focused.

"Goodbye, Steve," You bid him, beginning to walk away while calling out, "Have fun fucking Tasha."

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