✠ helena ✠

He blinked. Confused, maybe just as confused as the woman standing only a few meters away from his desk. 

“Why are you saying that?” 

“What?” came back his sudden response — a question that slipped too fast for him to actually think it through. 

It was a joke. He hadn't meant anything bad by that, Sylus wouldn't use this kind of petty behavior to get the upper hand on someone, not when it involved his darling. 

So why was she so surprised? And… upset? 

She stood there, unmoving. One deep breath in and she seemed ready to talk, to explain, but the words died on her tongue. The huntress gulped. 

“My beloved,” he started in a low, gentle tone. “What's wrong?” 

“You know I didn't mean it like that, right? When I mentioned Mephisto. And leaving you alone.” 

Sylus blinked. Of course he knew, why would he think otherwise? 

Why would he think otherwise? Why? Just, why? 

(She noticed. She saw him zone out, she saw his eyes get duller with each second.) 

There was a high chance they really were sharing a soul. When she stepped closer, Sylus barely noticed. The moment her proximity settled in his brain, he almost flinched. 

(She was his biggest vulnerability. His one and only.) 

Sylus tensed. His fingers gripped at the armrests of his chair. A knot formed in his throat. She was close and for once, for once, he didn't know how to perceive that. His tired brain didn't know how to handle it, the worry in her eyes, her gentle gestures, the way she looked at him with so much adoration shining on her beautiful figure.

(There were times when he lost himself in his gruesome reality, times when the blood on his hands felt like sin and not duty only. There were times when he felt undeserving of certain kindness, when it felt wrong to receive it. They were rare and he found it hard to understand them — the only thing he was running from, sometimes. 

Of course, the most powerful humans acknowledge their greatest fears. Yes, they do, but there were times when it was too much, times when he didn't want to solve his broken heart, times when he just let the broken pieces remain broken. Sometimes out of ignorance, sometimes because he was annoyed with himself. 

Like now. He was annoyed with himself. Why was he upset that they've barely got to spend time together? They were both busy, it was to be expected. Why was he sad? Why did it feel cold again for a little while? 

It was cold. That office had grown so cold without her in the past month. It's been lonely. Loneliness started scaring him again, so he shut that thought down until that very moment, when it came back and bit him by the heart.) 

“You've been zoning out a lot lately,” she hummed. 

He blinked the fog away. The worry in her eyes didn't falter. Ever present, somehow always alive. Her worry, her love. (So why be sad?) 

Even from a small distance, she managed to lightly resonate with him. A pull in his chest, gentle, a soft pressure into his beating heart. Present in every crack of it. That's when his body relaxed — her hand cupped his cheek. (He didn't notice how tense he had been these days until then.)

Her thumb brushed over his cheekbone in slow circles. Sylus moved his hands, hesitantly placing them on her hips as he brought her closer, between his parted legs. 

“I'm just worried because… it's not the first time I hear something similar from you.” 

This time, the confusion didn't feel like an attack. He just hummed and watched as her gaze followed the lines of his nose and chin, his jawline, the collar of his shirt. 

“You've called me once — thrice, actually — and you seemed sad that I didn't pick up. You seemed worried, too.”

“I told you—”

“It matters to me, Sylus,” she interrupted him in a gentle tone.

I told you there's no need to be sad about my random moods. 

“It matters. When you're sad or worried, not only when you're content with business meetings. Every part of you matters to me.” 

Sylus would've rather averted his gaze, but he couldn't, not when love shimmered like a palpable flame. It burnt, it arched and bended in his direction, yet it never burnt him. It was gentle. Like her touch, like her voice, like her words. 

Her other hand touched his neck, cupping the hot flesh in her palm. 

“You also didn't seem fully yourself these days. And I didn't want to prod too much, I didn't want to be a bother.” She ripped the skin of her lower lip with her teeth. 

His hand shot out and pressed against her lip. The gesture stopped her anxious habit for a while. 

“You are never a bother to me.” 

“I'm glad to know that.” Oh, how sweet of a smile that was, shattering and putting him back together. 

“I didn't want to prod,” she continued, “but it's hard not to notice. You know, you probably think you have it all under control, but,” a broken chuckle escaped her mouth, “it's pretty obvious to me. I see you, even when you think I don't.” 

Stylus had never known how much he needed to hear those words. It was a need he hasn't realized yet, but when she said it like that, it hurt him. It ached. 

The huntress held his face in her palms and bent at the waist, kissing his forehead. (He always finds a reason to do that, but she rarely gets the chance to bestow upon him the same gentleness that comes with a forehead kiss). 

“Sometimes it scares me.” She took in a sudden breath, almost shocked by her own statement. “The way you phrase it, I mean.” 

“What scares you?” because he didn't understand what she meant by that. 

The “being left alone” part? 

“It scares me that you might not see just how much I love you, Sylus. It scares me, because I love you and I want you to know that, always. Even when things go to shit, I love you. I don't want you to ever believe otherwise, because that'd be a lie.” 

Something within him shattered. Loudly. The shards flew into the walls, they sank in the wooden desk, they broke the windows. It was loud in his head. 

She bent again, this time leaving a kiss in between his eyebrows. 

“I would never let go of you, not willingly. I'd curse the world and I still wouldn't let go. You're mine as much as I am yours.” 

Sylus didn't know he needed to hear that come so clearly out of her mouth. It soothed a raw, open wound, it soothed in ways no one but she could've done it. 

He felt his beloved curl her arms around his shoulders, one of her hands petting his hair. 

“Alright?” she whispered. 

“Alright.” A jagged voice, cracking. But it was still an answer. 

So she held him tighter as he hid his face in her neck, breathing deeply into her scent. 

Like that time on the second floor bathroom in the business building. You were washing your hands. Two girls were by the mirrors doing whatever it was that required standing there for that long, they weren't even trying to keep his name a secret.

"I'm telling you," one of them said, pressing her lips together to even out her gloss"nobody warns you"

"That bad?"

"It wasn't bad. At all. Just —a lot."

You rinsed your hands faster.

"Oh my god, the head alone was—" she continued, and you turned the tap off and left before she finished that sentence because you had places to be and a GPA to protect.

A week later you were at the library looking for a journal article when a nursing major two rows over starts telling her friend about preparation. Actual preparation.

“I still can’t get over how thick he is. I thought the toys I bought prepared me for it but I only took half before I had to tap out. It felt like he was pushing into places that weren’t meant to stretch that far. I had to make him cum him with my hands because I could not take another inch without tearing up.”

You relocated to the other end of the library after that.

You tried not to pay attention because college gossip inflated everything. Length, skill, stamina—all of it grew in the retelling. Still, you found yourself thinking about it at odd hours. The thoughts arrived uninvited, usually when you were already half aroused from something else, and they left you shifting in your seat with heat pooling low in your stomach.

The stories piled up. Someone on the track team swore the stretch left her walking funny for three days, ten out of ten, would probably do it again once she'd recovered enough to consider it. A girl from the art building said the pressure against her cervix made her cum once just from the attempt but she couldn’t get him in deeper. Another version floated around after a house party, that he was so particular about fit that half the time he didn’t even bother getting fully hard if he could tell a girl wouldn’t be able to handle him.

Different girls, different nights, not a single overlapping social circle, and everyone kept arriving at the same point, nobody had managed to take the whole thing. The record, as far as campus was aware, remained open.

Last week hadn’t helped. Three different sets of hands, three different mouths, three different ways of stretching you open until you forgot what day it was. Your body still carried the memory in the form of residual soreness and a new awareness of empty space. The idea of something larger should have made you want to recover in private. Instead it made the rumors louder.

Tuesday morning found you at your usual table in the café near the library, textbook open, highlighter ready, determination firmly in place. You needed to catch up. The last seven days had been a blur of skipped study sessions and late night recoveries. Coffee steamed by your elbow while the café hummed with the usual mid morning noise, laptops, quiet conversation and the hiss of the espresso machine.

Two girls settled into the booth behind you. Their voices carried just enough to cut through the background.

"Zero," one of them says, settling in. "Completely soft the entire time. I tried everything. Hand, mouth, that thing with the hips. Nothing."

"And this was on Saturday? At Simone's?"

"Yeah. I thought maybe he'd had too much to drink but he really hadn't. He just wasn't interested. Or maybe its true that he doesn't bother unless he knows you can handle it."

A soft laugh, edged with something competitive. “Someone’s going to have to commit. Whoever makes him cum inside and fits the whole thing in gets bragging rights until graduation. First girl to ever get Sylus Qin to finish the proper way.”

"I'd spend a solid month preparing if I had a real shot."

Your highlighter slipped. The tip left a bright yellow streak across the page. Your thighs were pressed together under the table. The mental pictures arrived fully formed, the slow push, the moment of resistance, the deep fullness when the last of him finally disappeared. The sounds he might make when he came inside with no intention of pulling away.

You stared at the open textbook and saw nothing. Three guys in one week and your body still responded to speculation like it hadn’t been used at all. You shifted in the chair and tried to force your attention back to the page but the words refused to stick.

Behind you the girls kept going. More details about weight and girth. One of them mentioned buying a new set of toys. The other talked about the way he’d held her hips when she tried to sink lower, with a quiet warning in his voice when she pushed past the point of comfort. They laughed about the pure ego of being the girl who finally changed the record.

The café noise went somewhere distant. What remained was a chair scraping the floor and the ongoing conversation behind you that had your pulse doing something embarrassing for a Tuesday morning.

Then one of them cut off mid sentence.

The other one made a small sound.

You turned your head in time to see them moving toward the exit like they had just realized they'd been saying all of that stuff at full volume in a public space. The door swung hard behind them. They were gone.

You turned your head again, looking. Sylus sat in the booth directly across from you, coffee untouched, one arm along the back of the seat, eyes already fixed on you.

One second he was watching you and the next he was standing, coffee still on his table.

He stopped beside your booth. Close enough that you had to tip your head back to meet his eyes.

“Interesting conversation, don't you think?”

Your stomach dropped. “I wasn’t listening.”

“Hmm.” He glanced at the empty booth behind you, then back at your face. “Well, that’s not actually what I came over here for.”

“Then what?”

“I haven’t seen you in over a week.” he said it simply “You’ve been dodging the group. Skipping our usual spots. I'm starting to think we're contagious.”

“I’ve just been busy—”

“Studying.” His gaze flicked to your textbook, highlighter lying across the page with the bright yellow streak. "And looking like you haven’t slept properly in days.”

You hated how easily he cut through the bullshit. You hated even more that your pulse had started hammering the second he walked over.

“I have a lot going on right now,” you said.“Deadlines and normal student things.”

“Normal student things?” He rested one hand on the back of the empty booth in front of you “Is that what we’re calling it now? Because to me it looks like you’ve been running. And you’re not very good at it.”

You grabbed the highlighter and shoved it into your bag harder than necessary. “I’m not running.”

“No?” he tilted his head slightly. “Then explain to me why you left Simone's party through the back door on Saturday the second you saw Caleb walk in."

Your face burned “Maybe I just needed space.”

“From people you’ve known for two years? After one night that none of us have pretended it didn’t happen."

“I am fine, Sylus”

“You’re sitting in a café looking like you’re ready to bolt the second I say the wrong thing.” he shifted his weight, still not blocking you, but not making it easy to leave either. “That’s not fine, sweetie”

You stared at the table. The coffee ring left by your cup. A crumpled napkin. Anything except his face.

“What do you want me to say?” you asked "It's weird now, ok. I don't know how to look at any of you without— it's just weird. Are you happy?"

"No."

You let out a short, frustrated breath.“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re predictable.” there was a faint edge of amusement in his voice.“You disappear for days, show up at your usual table like nothing’s different. I’ve been patient. We all have. But patience has a limit, and you’re testing it.”

"Is this the part where you tell me to get over it?”

“No.This is the part where I tell you that hiding isn’t working. And that I’d rather you stop pretending it is."

You stood up. Grabbed the rest of your things and said “I need to go.”

Sylus didn’t move out of the way immediately. He watched you sling your bag over your shoulder, his expression unreadable.

“Zayne made me take notes for the lecture you skipped on Thursday, said you’d need them. They’re at my place. You can grab them now, or you can keep avoiding everyone and hope the midterm material magically appears in your inbox.”

You hesitated.

It was the kind of thing Zayne would actually do.

"That's convenient"

Sylus waited, patient as ever, like he already knew which way you were going to tip.

You adjusted the strap of your bag and exhaled through your nose. “Fine. But I'm just picking up the notes and leaving."

"Understood" he said, already turning toward the door.

--------------------

The notes hit his desk with a soft slap. You didn’t even remember deciding to throw them. One second you were turning toward the door with the half hearted intention of leaving, the next your bag was on the floor and your hands were fisting the front of Sylus’ shirt and your mouth was on his.

He made a low sound against your lips —surprise, maybe, or something darker— and then he was kissing you back. All heat and pressure and the faint taste of coffee still lingering on your tongue. His hands found your waist and hauled you in until there was no space left between you.

He smelled so good it made your head spin. Clean skin, expensive cologne and warmth, a scent that clung to the inside of your lungs. Or maybe the dizziness was just the lack of air. You kept kissing him anyway, lips parting, tongues sliding, a messy, open mouthed hunger that made your knees threaten to give out. Every time you tried to pull back for a breath he chased you, catching your bottom lip between his teeth, dragging it slowly before claiming your mouth again. His hands slid up your back under your shirt, palms hot against bare skin, fingers spreading wide like he needed to touch as much of you as possible.

You made a soft sound into his mouth. He answered it with a deeper kiss, tilting your head exactly where he wanted it, tongue sweeping against yours in a slow rhythm that had your hips rolling forward without permission.

“Your mouth,” he murmured against your lips “is so sweet”

He nipped along your jaw, sharp enough to sting, then soothed it with his tongue. The scrape of his teeth made you shiver. Two fingers tapped once against your lower lip—demanding, the exact same way he had that night in Zayne’s dorm. You opened for him without thinking and his fingers slid over your tongue and you closed your lips around them, sucking hard, hollowing your cheeks the way you knew he was watching for.

His eyes dropped to your mouth, tracking the way your tongue curled around his knuckles, the wet sound of it, the way your lips stretched around the width of just two fingers. A low groan rolled out of his chest and he pushed his fingers a little deeper, enough to feel the soft give of your throat, then slowly pulled them free. A thin string of spit connected his fingertips to your bottom lip for a second before it broke and dripped down your chin.

He brought those same fingers to his own mouth and sucked them clean, eyes never leaving yours. The sight of it—his tongue dragging over the wetness you’d left—made your pussy clench hard.

“Just like I remembered,” his voice was sin“Sweet and filthy.” He leaned back in and kissed you again, chasing the taste of him on your tongue. “I’m going to need a different sample of you this time.”

You managed a breathless laugh against his mouth. “Only if I get a sample of you first. Deal?”

A faint flush of color touched the tops of his cheekbones. He held your gaze for a second, breathing harder than he usually let himself.

“Open your mouth.”

You did.

He spat into it.

The warm, wet shock of it made your pussy clench again, so hard it almost hurt. You swallowed on instinct, heat flooding your face and spreading lower, and the sound that left you was close to a whimper. Your thighs trembled. You could feel how soaked you already were, the fabric of your underwear clinging uncomfortably.

“Now, for my part of the deal...”

His hands moved beneath your shirt again and you lifted your arms so he could pull it off and toss it aside. You reached for him too, shoving his shirt up his torso and over his head. His chest felt warm under your palms, the faint scent of his skin stronger now that there was nothing between you. You dragged your nails lightly down his abs and felt the muscles jump.

He reached for the button of your jeans. You reached for his at the same time. The sound of zippers and fabric was loud in the quiet room. You both stepped out of your pants in a clumsy tangle of limbs, kicking them aside without looking where they landed. Then it was just underwear between you—his black and stretched tight over the thick outline of his hard cock, yours already dark with how wet you’d gotten.

When you reached for the waistband he caught your wrist firm enough to stop you.

His eyes had dropped to your skin.

The marks were still there. Bruises from Caleb’s mouth layered over the older ones from Rafayel and Xavier. Sylus didn’t ask. His fingertips traced each one in turn, mapping them like he was reading a language only he understood.

“Caleb” he said quietly, not in question. He followed the trail of bruises down until he was on his knees in front of you, eye level with the last of them.

Your breath caught.

He hooked his fingers in the sides of your underwear and dragged them down your legs. You had to lock your knees to stay upright while Sylus stared. Strings of arousal clung to the inside of the fabric and stretched between your thighs. He watched them with something close to awe.

“They got you ready for me,” he sounded almost pleased“I’ll have to thank them later. Especially Caleb. He was thorough.”

Of course he knew. You didn’t know how—whether someone had talked or whether he’d simply put the pieces together like he always did—but Sylus Qin always knew.

He looked up at you from the floor. The question was silent but unmistakable. His hands rested on your hips, thumbs stroking small circles against your skin.

You nodded once.

He leaned in.

His nose brushed your clit first, a firm pressure that made your hips jump and a soft moan leave your throat. Then his tongue parted you slowly, collecting your arousal, and sealed over the swollen bud with an open mouthed kiss that made your vision blur.

He licked from your entrance up to your clit and stayed there, circling and changing the pressure until your hips started moving on their own. You buried both hands in his hair and when he hooked your leg over his shoulder you used it—tightened your thigh to pull him in closer at the same time your hips rolled up against his mouth. The shift let him get deeper. His name escaped your lips and he answered by sealing his lips around your clit and sucking.

The suction was filthy and loud. He pulled the swollen bud into his mouth and worked it with his tongue, circling, flicking, pressing flat against it. Spit and your own wetness mixed and ran down his chin and every time he pulled off to breathe, a thin string of slick connected his mouth to your clit. He always licked it away.

“Sy—” your voice came out shaky. “Fuck, your mouth—”

“Yeah?” he licked your clit again “Do you like it? Like me eating this pretty pussy?” he pushed his tongue just inside your entrance and fucked you with it in little thrusts then flattened it and dragged it hard over the sensitive bundle of nerves “Tastes like you need it. Dripping all over my tongue.”

Two thick fingers pressed against your entrance but he didn’t shove them in. He held them there, letting you feel the stretch of the tips while his mouth kept working. When he finally pushed forward it was slow, the burn of it dragging a sharp breath out of you. He curled them almost immediately and found the spot Zayne talked about. Every time he curled them you felt the stretch more. Every time his tongue flicked your clit your thighs shook.

“Shit—please don’t stop,” you begged, fingers tightening in his hair. “Feels so good—your tongue feels sooo good—”

Your hips rolled harder against his face. He took it, letting you use him while his fingers kept moving. He was open mouthed now, licking and sucking and breathing hard against you, chin shiny, lips shiny, the whole lower half of his face coated in you.

He scissored his fingers gently, stretching you further, and groaned when more slick spilled out around them. “Messy girl"

Your stomach tightened and you came hard. Your pussy clamped down around his fingers so tight he had to work to keep moving them.

“Fuck—yes—” you choked out, still shaking.“Sylus—”

He licked you through it, gentler, tongue flat and patient “Good girl,” his lips brushed your clit with every word “Ride it out. Perfect. Fucking perfect.”

Only when your grip on his hair finally loosened and your leg slackened over his shoulder did he ease back.

Zayne’s voice cut through his head clear as day.

"Patience is key. The tissue needs time. If you force depth before she’s fully relaxed you’ll cause microtears and you’ll have to stop. Use your fingers. Stretch her properly. Keep the external stimulation consistent so she doesn’t tighten out of instinct. When you push in, go slow, short strokes, let her body pull you deeper on its own. Do not rush it".

Sylus exhaled hard through his nose. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then stood. His hands slid under your arms and lifted you like you weighed nothing. You made a startled sound and grabbed his shoulders as he carried you the few steps to his bed and laid you down on the cool sheets.

He followed you down. His mouth found your breast immediately—hot and open, tongue dragging over the nipple before he sucked hard enough to make your back arch. He switched sides, licking, biting lightly, blowing cool air across the wet peaks until they ached. His hand slid between your thighs, fingers stroking through the mess he’d made of you, keeping you open and sensitive while he talked against your skin.

“I’ve thought about this,” his mouth brushed the curve of your breast. “How tight you’d be. Whether you’d even be able to take me.” long fingers traced the soft skin of your inner thigh, then higher, spreading your legs apart just to look. “Wondered if the space between your legs was enough to handle me.”

You let out an incredulous laugh.“You were sizing me up?"

His hand left your thigh and he held it up in front of your face, thumb and pinky stretched as far apart as they would go, and then laid that same span against your body, starting at the top of your pelvis and stretching up, up, up, almost to your belly button.

You stared.

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.”

“That is not real. You’re measuring wrong.”

“I’m measuring exactly right.” His voice stayed calm, but his eyes were dark. “That’s roughly the length. Thickness is a separate problem.”

You made a strangled sound and tried to scoot back up the bed. He caught your ankle without even looking and dragged you right back down to settle between your thighs. His mouth found yours, swallowing whatever protest you were about to make, while his hand slid back between your legs and stroked through the wetness.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he whispered against your lips, the words curved with amusement. “Not until we find out if I was right.”

You reached for the waistband of his underwear. The fabric clung to him, already damp at the tip where a wet circle had spread from how much he’d been leaking. You hooked your fingers under the elastic and dragged it down. His cock sprang free and for a second you could only stare.

It was thick. Long enough that your stomach flipped. The fat head was already shiny with pre, a slow bead gathering at the slit. Veins stood out along the shaft. It looked heavy in the best way, the kind of size that made the rumors feel suddenly very real. You wrapped your fingers around it on instinct and your fingers didn’t quite meet. It pulsed against your palm and another bead of precum welled up and spilled over your thumb.

“I want to return the favor”

Sylus caught your wrist.“You’re not ready for that,” he teased“Not yet. That's a lesson for another day.” he guided your hand away and settled back between your thighs, his cock resting against your pussy. “Right now I need something else.”

He dragged the fat tip through your slit, coating himself in you. The heat against your clit made your hips twitch. He did it again —teasing slides up and down—then started tapping the head against your clit and he watched your face the whole time.

“Sensitive?” he started rubbing the tip in circles over your clit until your breath hitched and more arousal spilled out of you and he used it to slide lower, notching the blunt head against your entrance without pushing in. The pressure alone made your stomach clench. He stayed like that for a few seconds, just the wide stretch of the tip resting against you, letting you feel exactly how much he was going to force you open.

“Sylus—”

“I know.” he rocked the head against you, pressing and releasing "That’s only the tip and you’re already shaking.”

Over and over again he kept teasing. Sliding up to grind against your clit, then back down until you were making soft, desperate sounds every time the head caught against you. Your hands fisted in the sheets. Your hips kept chasing him. He wouldn’t give you more than that pressure.

“Spread a little wider for me,” he said finally“Let me in, sweetie.”

Your thighs fell open further and he pushed in.

The stretch burned—sharp and perfect—and a broken sound tore out of you. It was everything the rumors had promised and more. The pressure, the way your body had to yield around him just to take the head. Your nails dug into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks. He held there, only the head inside, letting you feel every pulse of him while your pussy fluttered and tried to adjust.

“You feel incredible,” he sank in another inch, slowly, and his thumb found your clit, rubbing steady circles counterclockwise while he worked himself deeper. “Fuck. You’re so fucking tight.” Another inch. The stretch intensified. “You’re going to come like this and then I’m going to fuck you.”

You tried to roll your hips and take more of him but he held you still with a hand firm on your hip and pulled back until only the head remained inside. Then he thrusted in again to the same depth—close to halfway— thumb still working your clit. The fullness was already overwhelming. Combined with the steady pressure on your clit it pushed you right to the edge.

“Please, Sy—deeper—”

“Not yet.” he rocked the same few inches in and out, stretching you around the thickest part of the head and the first half of his cock."Greedy little cunt.” his voice dropped.“You have to come on my cock just like this. Give it to me.”

You came with a sharp cry of his name and the look on his face was priceless. His cheeks were flushed dark, almost feverish. His mouth had fallen open. He was breathing hard through it, eyes watching you squeeze around him like the sight alone might undo him.

“That’s it,” he rasped. "Just like that.”

Your legs wrapped around his waist on instinct and when the aftershocks started to fade you felt him push deeper, the slick of your orgasm easing the way. The burn returned, sharper now, as more of his cock forced you open.

“Does it hurt?”

You wanted to say yes. It did hurt, but it hurt so damn good that the word wouldn’t come out right.

“No.”

“Good.” He unwrapped your legs from around him and pushed your thighs open, folding you so he could watch every inch disappear. “I need you open. Just like this.”

More than halfway. The stretch turned intense enough that your body tried to escape it—your hips shifting back on instinct. He noticed immediately. His hands tightened on your thighs and he pulled you down onto him, burying another thick inch inside you.

"Holy mother of fucks—"

“Don’t run now, it’s too late to chicken out, kitten.”

You sucked in a deep breath, forced your body to relax as much as it could, and pushed down to meet him. The last of him slid inside. You both moaned—his broken and loud, a sound that would live in the back of your mind forever. For the first time since you’d met him, Sylus Qin looked speechless. He stared down at where the two of you were joined like he couldn’t believe it was real. His hips were flush against yours. There was nowhere left to go.

“For fucks sake, Sy” you whispered, voice shaking. “Just fuck me already"

At first it was slow. He pulled back in a careful drag that let you feel every vein and ridge, then sank back in just as slowly, giving your body time to adjust. His eyes stayed locked on your face, watching every flicker of pain and pleasure. When your breathing evened out and your hips started meeting his, he gave you more—harder strokes that still kept that deep rhythm.

“I knew it,” his forehead dropped to yours for a second.“Knew this pussy would be the only one that could take me.” he snapped his hips a little harder and watched your mouth fall open. “Just you. This tight little cunt was built for my dick.”

He fucked you like that until the burn faded, until every thrust punched soft sounds from your throat and when he was sure you could take it, he stopped holding back.

His hands pushed your thighs higher and he looked down again.

His cock was visibly moving low in your stomach with every thrust— a subtle bulge that rose and fell as he sank in to the hilt and moved back out. His eyes locked on it and the last of his control cracked as he watched himself move inside you from the outside.

He pressed his palm over the bulge, feeling the shape of his own cock under your skin.

"Can you feel how deep I am? he moved his hips forward, feeling the bulge push up against his hand "That’s all of me and you’re still squeezing me like you want more.”

Your orgasm built slower than the first two. Heavier. He felt it before you said anything, the way you started squeezing around him made his rhythm stutter and a sound left his chest that he clearly hadn't planned on making.

"Already?" His forehead dropped to yours again and a breathless chuckle left him "You're going to be the death of me"

"Sy, please—"

You felt him pulse inside you and his eyes found yours. "I want to cum inside of you. Can I?"

He was actually asking.

"Yes. Inside — yes —"

He started moving again and this time it was different, the slap of skin filling the room, his hands on your thighs tight enough that you'd find the marks tomorrow.

“Gonna fill you up— fuck—every drop. Keep it. Walk around tomorrow still dripping with me.”

He came with a sound that vibrated against your mouth. His whole body shuddered but he kept rocking through it, forcing every spurt deeper, a hand back to pressing over the place where he was emptying himself inside you, until the overflow started leaking out around his cock and down your ass.

Then he slowly pulled out.

The rush of cum that followed was a lot. Thick and white, it spilled out of you in a heavy gush, sliding down onto his sheets. Sylus watched his cum leak out of the pussy that had just taken him completely for the first time.

He reached down, gathered the mess on his fingers, and pushed it back inside you without a word. Two fingers stuffing it back into you while you twitched and whimpered from the oversensitivity. He did it again—scooping up what had escaped and forcing it back in—until he was satisfied that most of it was where he wanted it.

“There,” he murmured to himself, watching his fingers disappear inside you. “Keep it in”

He collapsed onto his side next to you, one arm thrown over his eyes, chest still rising and falling hard. The flush hadn’t left his cheeks. His cock lay heavy and wet against his stomach, still twitching occasionally.

You stared at the ceiling, body aching, the slow leak of him between your thighs impossible to ignore. After a long minute you let out a slightly unhinged laugh.

“So…” you said, turning your head to look at him. “Should I tell those girls I broke the record? Or do you want to keep your legendary status intact?”

Sylus moved his arm just enough to crack one eye open at you. The corner of his mouth twitched.

“Let them know if you want,” his voice was still rough "And then tell them you’re the only one who gets to do it again.”

"Keep touching me like this and I'll have to return the favor, sweetie" He leans down to whisper against her ear, giving it a gentle nip. "I'll start by kissing every corner of your body, mirroring where your mischievous hands have touched mine. What do you say, kitten?" He teases.

She's paying atention to him, she really is, but her sleepy brain can only pick up two words from what he said, "kitten" and "kiss".

She stares at him and blinks twice as she processes the information, and in a ridiculously wrong word association she thinks "Kitten + kiss =... Oh, right, he wants me to kiss him".

She leans forward, pressing a warm kiss on the closest place she can reach: his collarbone. Then, she takes his arm and slides his shirt a bit down to reveal the skin beneath and presses a kiss on his bicep, then one on his shoulder.

"Hm... sweetie, his is not what I me-" He tries to protest but is interrupted by her lips reaching his jaw.

Each kiss is soft, sleepy, affectionate... and he just gives in, abandoning his earlier playful seduction and just letting her continue showering him in her sleepy affection.

"You really are dangerous, you know?" He chuckles.

Her kisses travel up, pressing one on his cheek, one on the corner of his mouth, one on the tip of his nose, and he just melts under each of them, tilting his head and giving her access to every corner she wants to reach.

Between kisses, she pulls back for a moment and she notices him watching her with half-lidded eyes and a faint shade of pink covering his cheeks and ears, but more importantly, he's watching her with that look of pure adoration that makes her heart melt.

Even in her drowsy state, she feels the need to tease him, yet instead, she just lets out a soft giggle. She loves to cause this reaction on Sylus.

"You are enjoying this way too much. I can't have that" He groans, shaking his head in mischievous mock disapproval.

He pulls her closer, and finally, he cups her face and captures her lips in a proper kiss, slow, deep... When they pull back, she has now a similar expresion to the one he had earlier and he shows a satisfied smirk.

"Go back to sleep before you misshear what I say again and start biting me or something" He teases.

His arms wrap around her, accomodating her head comfortably over his chest.

"Good night, kitten" He whispers after pressing a last kiss on her forehead. Then settles to rest his chin on the top of her head as his hands run along her back in gentle caresses to help lull her back to sleep.