#ae.fic

You sigh, then remorsefully pick up the pieces of the report in your trashcan. This guy is your most difficult boss yet, but right now, you have no idea why. But you’re determined to decipher him, and finally get him to remember and call you by your actual name. He still keeps calling you by his previous assistant’s name – in all fairness to him, ‘Mephisto’ is a unique name, probably one he won’t forget for a long time. But did you even look like a ‘Mephisto’?

You’re busy trying to piece together the report again when you hear his door open. You frantically shove the report into a desk drawer and straighten up in your seat, your hands going to your keyboard, your eyes flicking from your screen to across the room. You watch Sylus as he breezes by your desk – the first two buttons of his shirt are already undone, his tie now hanging loosely around his neck. He’s done for the day.

“Don’t stay too late,” he mutters as he walks past you. You nod, watching tensely as he turns the corner, then you relax once he’s out of sight. 

“Okay,” you murmur to yourself. “I’m going to conquer you, Mr. Qin. Just you wait.” 

—

You spend the next few weeks studying Sylus closely in your meetings with him, and in larger ones with more attendees. You take note of when he nods approvingly, when he frowns, and when he smiles, which is rare. You make notes in your notebooks, and your reports, encouraging yourself not to get disheartened when he doesn’t like something. And then, you start receiving the nods and smiles yourself. The dopamine you get from seeing them hits like crazy, lighting up the reward centers of your brain, making you feel elated. You chase that high, almost ashamed that his little gestures can actually make you feel that way. You keep working to improve your reports – he likes it when it’s styled a certain way, he likes his summaries accessible on every page, he likes the totals in bold, and so on. Soon, you’re having productive meetings that last longer – he starts discussing the numbers with you instead of just taking the report from you, asking for your opinions on strategies. You feel like you’re on top of the world – you’ve finally won him over. He’s started calling you ‘Miss Assistant’ instead of ‘Mephisto’. A big win in your books. Hopefully, he’ll actually call you by your own name soon.

You start prepping your end of year report. It’s a big project, and more than just spreadsheets and figures. You’ll be helping him present it to the rest of the executive team. You start gathering the final reports from the other heads of department and collating them. You aggressively chase up anyone who hasn’t submitted what they need to, and you start spending longer hours at the office.

Sylus would exit his own office late at night to find you still frowning at your screen, scrutinizing the numbers. “Don’t stay too late,” is what he’d usually say. You’d nod again and again, promising him you’d head home soon. But he doesn’t believe you, and would narrow his eyes at you before heading off. One night, he hands you his credit card across your desk on his way out. “Get some dinner and order yourself a ride home,” he says sternly as you receive the card. He looks at the clock mounted on the wall. “I don’t want to find you here in the morning wearing the same thing.” You nod again, gripping his card tightly with both hands. It’s not a company credit card – it looks like it’s his personal one. It’s black and shiny, with his name engraved in it in silver. “Holy shit,” you breathe, immediately looking up restaurants nearby that do delivery on your computer. “I’m going to eat so good tonight.”

—

Sylus stares at you with his ruby red eyes, and it takes everything you have in you not to break eye contact. You’ve just spent the last twenty minutes presenting your report to him, along with the slideshow. You close the lid to your laptop with a soft snap and cradle it in your lap. You grip at the edges of it tightly – you’re still waiting for his feedback, and he’s taking his sweet time to give it to you. It’s killing you on the inside.

He looks down at the booklet on his desk, flicking through it once more, one hand on his jaw, his thumb rubbing his chin.

“Are these–”

“Broken down into quarters, months, then years, then daily.” Just the way he likes it.

“And are the–”

“Totals are at the bottom of each page then summarized again at the end of each section, then at the end of the whole report,” you ramble. “I think our figures look good this year, any way you look at it.”

He looks at you, an eyebrow raised. 

“Thank you,” he tells you, closing the report in his hands. “This is great. I'd like you to email this to me as well."

You sigh in relief. Your hard work has paid off. He hasn’t given you a smile the entire meeting, but you’ll take his thanks as a good sign. He walks with you to his office door, guiding you on your way out. 

You pause at the door, confirming some last few things for him.

“Sure, I'll send it over as a PDF? Would that be good?”

He nods, then leans against the frame of the doorway, looming over you slightly. You can smell his cologne. Your heart starts beating rapidly in your chest.

“Yes. Excellent work. Good girl.” He whispers the last two words, as if they’re meant for your ears only.

Your breath stops in your throat, a million thoughts running instantaneously through your head. Your cheeks feel warm, and you feel something stirring in the pit of your stomach. You scurry out of his office, throat dry, breaths shallow. You swear you can feel his eyes on the back of your head as you make your way back to your desk.

Did he just call you a good girl?

—

Sylus spends the rest of the day reading through the report and slideshow you had sent him. He doesn’t come out of his office the entire time, and you’re almost worried about him. You continue your work, but glance over to the frosted glass now and again. You’re still reeling from the last thing he said to you, and you’re trying to rationalize how you felt about it. The dopamine hit was unbelievable, but there was something else in there. Your mouth waters as you replay his voice in your head, remembering the way his breath felt as it reached the back of your neck. You shake your head, chalking it up to your desire for long overdue approval. Yeah, that’s it.

You swear you can see him pacing back and forth in his office. You try to stay as late as you can just in case he has any other questions for you. But this is about to be your first early night in the last few weeks. Your report is done and you can finally relax. The rest of your coworkers have already gone home, and the rest of the floor outside of your area is empty – not an unfamiliar sight for you. You consider packing up and going home when your desk phone rings. It’s Sylus’s extension.

“Mr. Qin?” you ask, picking up the receiver. “What do you need, sir?”

“Miss Assistant,” he says, softly from the other end of the line. “Can you come into my office? I just need to clarify some things with you before you head off for the night.”

“Of course.” You put the receiver down and stand from your desk, straightening out your clothes. You’ve learned to invest in clothing that doesn’t crumple easily – the white blouse and black pencil skirt combination is one of your timeless favorites.

You gather up the report from your desk again and head to Sylus’s office. You knock twice on the frosted glass before he answers. “Come in.”

You open the door and he watches as you walk in, taking his glasses off and rubbing at the bridge of his nose. He leans back in his seat, folding his hands over his lap. You start to take your usual post in the seat in front of his desk, but he shakes his head and motions you to come over to his side of the desk. Sylus leans away from his laptop slightly, making space for you to stand beside him. You place the report beside his laptop, brace yourself against the edge of his desk, squinting at his screen.

“Help me understand how you got these numbers,” he murmurs, pointing at the bolded numbers on the spreadsheet.

“Well, these are from the months from last quarter,” you start to explain, clicking on different tabs. “This is revenue versus actual sales. Did you want a version of the report where these two are actually split up?”

You try to concentrate on the report, but you’re hyper-aware of how close you are to your boss. Your throat goes dry again as you inhale – it’s later in the day, so you can smell the slightest tinge of sweat coming from him, and it intermingles with the scent of his cologne. It’s almost intoxicating. You swallow, hoping he doesn’t notice how fast your breathing has gotten, or how shaky your hands are. 

He leans forward, elbows on the desk, hand on his chin. His muscles strain against his white button-up shirt, and you take a peek down, noticing that his first two buttons are undone, and that you can see down the shirt. He’s not wearing an undershirt. You look away and back to the screen, mentally chastising yourself and your wandering eye. He’s your boss, he’s your boss, he’s hot as fuck, but he’s your boss…

“Show me how you’re going to do that,” Sylus tells you, leaning away from his laptop again. 

You blink at him. “I mean… it might take a few minutes. I can work on it back at my desk and bring it back to you, if you want.”

“No, no,” he shakes his head. “We might as well bang it out now, while you’re here.”

You nod, and with trembling hands, you reach for his laptop again. You start clacking away at the keys, bent over the desk awkwardly while he watches you silently. 

“You wanna take my seat?” he asks quietly.

It’s your turn to shake your head. “No, it’s okay.” You reach over for the paper report next to his laptop, and accidentally touch his hand. You take a risk. You let your fingers linger for a moment longer than what constitutes as an accidental touch before pulling away.

“Sorry,” you mutter, going for the paper report, hoping he doesn’t notice the flush taking over your cheeks. “Let me just flick through this quickly.”

“Don’t be,” he whispers, pushing his chair away from the desk. “Take a seat. I insist.” He leans back into his chair and spreads his legs, nodding down as an invitation. Holy fuck.

You bite your lip, your stomach doing countless flip flops in what seems to be the span of a few seconds. The rational side of your brain is telling you to run out of that office and not look back. The other side, the one you feed with inappropriate thoughts of your boss at ungodly hours of the night while you touch yourself is screaming back to take his offer – it’s louder and it’s winning. 

Hoping that you don’t come across as too eager, you lower yourself down onto his lap as he scoots his chair back towards the desk. You settle yourself between his legs as he presses his chest up against your back. His breath washes over the back of your neck, making you shiver involuntarily. 

“Good girl,” he breathes, his hands finding his way to your hips. You don’t have to check – you know your panties are soaked. “Now, talk me through how you calculate those totals.”

“Well, first,” you start, your voice cracking instantly. “I take the totals from this tab and add them to the formula.” His hands go from your hips and slide down your thighs as you click around on the screen. His fingers gather up your skirt, balling the material into his hands. “Oh god,” you murmur weakly.

“Keep going,” he commands, his lips finding a sensitive spot of skin on your neck. You moan reactively, and you can feel him smiling against your skin. “Don’t get distracted now.”

“Right,” you manage to croak. Your breaths become short and shallow, your eyes are barely able to focus. “I click on the totals for each month and–f-fuck…” You hiss as his hand travels up your inner thigh and finds the edge of your panties. He pushes them aside and slides two of his fingers up and down your slit – you can feel how wet you are and you have no doubt his fingers are covered in your slick.

“Focus,” he orders, but you can tell his restraint is slipping. “We don’t want you fudging the numbers. We could get into big trouble if you get this wrong.” You shift slightly in the seat, and feel something pressing up against your ass – he’s hard. 

You gasp as he sucks on your neck and plunges his fingers into you simultaneously. You rock back into his groin, teasing his erection. He groans, his fingers sliding out of you. Your skirt is now bunched up around your hips, your underwear pushed to the side as Sylus fingers continue to work on you. Those slick sounds, your breathless gasps and his heavy breathing are audible throughout his office. You’re praying to whatever higher power there is that you were right in assuming everyone else in your office has already gone home. You feel like you’d die on the spot if anyone saw you like this.

“Finish the report,” he growls, fingers working faster. The one hand still holding your hip is now gripping you so tightly that you think it’s going to bruise. All you can do is nod in response. Your eyes start to blur as his fingers curl up inside of you – the closer you are to finishing the bar graph you started, the closer you get to finishing. You feel it building as you highlight the cells, and your core starts to tighten. You grit your teeth as he grinds up onto your ass, and as soon as you complete the graph, you brace yourself against the desk and clench around his fingers, trying to muffle your moans with your forearm. 

“Good girl,” Sylus sighs, pulling his fingers out of you. You pant as he slides your underwear down your legs, and he bends down to make sure they don’t get caught in the pumps you’re wearing. “Cute,” he comments, hanging them over his laptop screen, covering the report you were working on. “We’ll just keep these here.”

If your cheeks weren’t hot before, then they are now for sure. You look down and you see that you’ve made an absolute mess of yourself all over his trousers. You lean back into his chest and look up at him. “Can I… do anything else for you?”

You see desire flash across his eyes briefly before he smirks at you. “Yes. Can you get under the desk?”

You nod, knowing where this is going already. He pushes his chair back to make room for you, and you kneel in front of him, hands on his knees. He unbuckles his belt and pushes his trousers and underwear down, his erection springs up and touches his stomach. Without waiting for him to ask, you take him into your hand and begin to lick at him, using your saliva to make it slippery. 

“Taking initiative. I like that,” he chuckles, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. 

Sylus hisses as you take small kitten licks at his tip, tossing his head back onto his seat’s headrest. You take as much as you can of him into your mouth, and he groans, bucking his hips up, filling you up all the way to the back of your throat. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you gag on him, but you force yourself to take it. You can feel the wetness building up between your legs, and you clench your thighs to relieve some of the pressure. You’re pretty sure you’re dripping onto the carpet. He grips your hair as you start to move up and down, holding onto the base of his shaft as you do so. 

You look up at him, his crimson eyes glazed over with lust as they meet yours. He grunts your name, and you feel even more aroused hearing him say it – he finally knows your name. He thrusts up into your mouth repeatedly, but before he can finish, he pulls you off of him by your hair, and you release him with a loud pop. You gasp for air, rocking back on your heels, both of you breathing heavy as he smirks down at you. 

“Come back up.” He extends a hand to you, and you take it – he pulls you up from under the desk, his hand hovering over your head so you don’t hit it on the edge. As soon as you’re upright again, he sweeps a hand across his desk and all the papers on it fly off of it. You look at him, eyes wide, and he gives you another smirk. “Don’t worry, I’ll deal with that later.”

“I can help,” you start to offer, but his hands wrap around your waist, and he hoists you up onto the desk. You let out a small, shocked yelp, but his lips are on yours, muffling any protest you were about to make. The kiss is deep, ravenous, almost swallowing you whole. You want to come up for air, but don’t want to break away from him. Your hands are in his hair while his wander up your waist and your back. He guides you to lay down onto the desk, his lips never leaving yours. 

“Give me a moment,” he murmurs, breaking away from you. He looks down at you lying across his desk, your chest heaving up and down with heavy pants, your skirt now pushed up to your waist. “Do you want to keep going?” He asks, his hand gripping the edge of the desk. 

You nod, but he frowns at you. “Use your words.”

“Yes, Sylus,” you breathe. “Please. I want to keep going.”

He grins at you. “Very well. Be patient for a few seconds.” You see him open up a desk drawer, and hear him rummaging through it. You hear the ripping of a foil packet, and he’s silent for several seconds – you assume he’s putting some protection on. 

“You’ve done so well,” he croons the praise, as his attention returns to you. He slides himself up and down your slit, teasing at your entrance. You whine, and buck your hips upwards, your back arching away from the desk. “Do you want this? Tell me you want this.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you breathe, hands reaching for his forearms. “I want this. I want this so bad.”

He lines himself up at your entrance, and you place your hand over him, guiding him in. He slides into you effortlessly, and you let out a small gasp as you see a shudder run down his body. “Fuck,” he gasps, rocking his hips slightly. “You’re so tight.”

He leans down, hands on your hips, thrusting in and out of you slowly. You meet his thrusts, your hands gripping his forearms, transfixed on him sliding in and out.

“I’m going to go faster, okay?” he tells you, already quickening his pace. You nod, your hands wrapping around his neck, hanging onto him as the desk shakes with his thrusts. 

Your legs wrap around his hips, and you hook your ankles together, bringing him closer to you as he continues. You’re past caring about how loud your moans are – you’re sure they can be heard in the offices across the floor. But then you remember that his office is soundproof. Thank god. His grunts, mixed with the sound of your skin slapping against each other, drive you crazy. You feel your orgasm building at the pit of your core again, and by the way Sylus’s movements are becoming more erratic, you can tell that he’s close too.

“Let’s finish this together, okay?” he rasps, hitting you in that spot that makes you see stars. You nod, and his thumb finds your clit, rubbing small circular movements into it. This pushes you over the edge. 

“Sylus, please I’m–fuck–I’m–I’m–” You don’t get to finish your statement. Your legs tighten around his torso as you clench around him, your whole body shuddering. Your clenching brings him to finishing too, and he grunts loudly, thrusting into you one final time before collapsing on top of you. 

The sound of your pants fills the room, and for the next few moments, that’s all you can focus on. He lifts himself slowly and gingerly pulls himself out of you. He turns himself away while he fixes himself back up, and you can hear him throw something into the trashcan under his desk. He then turns back towards you, but reaches over to the far corner of his desk behind his laptop. He plucks a few tissues out from the tissue box, and starts wiping at your legs.

You sit up quickly and attempt to take the tissues from him. “Mr. Qin, you don’t have to do that.”

He pulls the tissues away from you, an eyebrow raised. “Why did we go back to ‘Mr. Qin’? As if you weren’t screaming at me by my first name before.”

Your lips clamp shut as you let him wipe you down, noticing how gentle he is. “Sorry,” you mumble, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Sylus.”

He pauses in his wiping and he looks up at you with a soft smile. A genuine smile. The first you might have ever seen from him. You blink at him before giving him a smile in return. He finishes cleaning you up and helps you hop down from the desk. You fix your skirt, and quickly snatch your underwear from where he had tossed it. 

You’re still sitting on the edge of his desk when he leans towards you again, his hands gripping the desk, next to where yours are. He places a soft kiss on your forehead, and you feel something stir in your stomach again, but it feels different this time.

“You did so well today,” he whispers against your skin. “What a good girl.” He leans away from you, and you have to fight the urge to kiss him again. He reaches out and runs his hand through your hair, fixing the parts that got messed up in your tryst. “And good girls deserve rewards. How does dinner and drinks sound? Maybe tomorrow night?”

You had woken up the next morning, groggy, nauseous, and your throat absolutely parched. You had tried calling out to him. “Caleb! Caleb!” Silence. You had almost forgotten about the events of the night before. You groaned, got out of bed, and did the things that Caleb would usually do for you for yourself. That’s what the next few days for you are like. You fight the urge to call him, to text him, to ask him things, to tell him the random thoughts that pop into your mind that you think he'd want to hear. You didn’t want to admit it, but you definitely miss him.

Right now, you don’t even know why you were angry at him in the first place. You've convinced yourself that you were overreacting. And it’s taking everything in you not to pick up the phone and call him at that moment. The maintenance worker looks up from the system panel next to your front door and shrugs, and you’re tempted to roll your eyes. If he were Caleb, he probably would have had it fixed by now.

“Sorry, but there’s nothing wrong with the system. I’ve run the diagnostics and did a reset. Everything’s working as it should be.”

“Thank you for trying,” you sigh, opening the door for him. “Maybe the bulbs need replacing.”

The worker nods at you before leaving and tells you to call if you need anything else. You close the door behind him and decide to give the lights another try.

“Hey, system. Lights on.”

A few seconds of silence, then the system pipes up. “Lights are offline.”

You sigh again, then try flicking the manual switches. Up and down. Up and down. The overhead lights still stay off. You’ve had to rely on your floor lamps for lighting over the last few days. You thought it was a system problem, so you contacted the apartment complex’s maintenance department. The worker had just confirmed that the system is running fine, so it’s probably the bulbs themselves. But all of them? At the same time? All throughout the apartment? Caleb had been the one to install the last set of smart lightbulbs for you, so he’d be the next best person to ask.

You grab your phone from your back pocket and unlock it. Your thumb hovers over his name, and you take a deep breath, swallow your pride, and press on it. He answers on the first three rings.

“Hey, Caleb? Look, I’m sorry…”

—

“Just make me dinner, then we’re even.”

Wow, Caleb sure is easy to please. You’re walking back to your apartment, ingredients for hotpot in your arms, relieved and excited that you’ve finally made amends with him. He had sent you out with a list to buy ingredients for dinner while he fixed whatever needed fixing with the bulbs.

“I’ll be done by the time you get back,” he had said, ushering you out the door. “But take your time, don’t rush. Make sure you get the right cut of meat.”

You look through the list on your phone, balancing the bag in one arm. Yup, you have everything on it. The phone rings while it’s in your hand, and you answer it immediately.

“Hey,” Caleb’s voice is tinny on the other end of the line. “Where are you?”

“Almost there,” you tell him, shifting the bag in your arm. “Maybe another five minutes?”

“Cool. I’m almost done too. I can help with making dinner.”

Caleb listens to you rambling your thanks and assures you that he’s more than happy to help. He hangs up, slips his phone into his back pocket before going back to work.

“Five minutes,” he mutters to himself. “Let’s finish this.”

He logs into your system panel and goes into your security settings. He accesses the security footage from your front door camera and the camera in your living room from two days after you had your fight. He smiles to himself as he watches himself on the screen, walking up to your empty apartment.

He knew you were going to be at work, so he had snuck into your place in the middle of the day. He had worked quickly and efficiently, making sure he was in and out of the apartment within five minutes. He had gone through all the rooms in your place with a step ladder and had unscrewed each lightbulb, just enough that they wouldn’t connect into the socket. They’d still be in their holders, but they wouldn’t work or turn on, and he knew they would probably drive you crazy. He’d only have to wait a few days, a week at most, for your call. And he was right. The moment he saw your name light up the screen on his phone, he knew he had won the battle.

In the twenty minutes that you’re gone, he has screwed all the bulbs back into place and he starts tinkering around with your system panel. He selects the five minutes of footage from the day he snuck in, and promptly deletes it. You’re never going to notice five minutes of security footage missing from a random day in the middle of the week, so he doesn’t bother replacing it. He exits out of the security settings, then tests the bulbs one more time.

“Hey, system. Lights on.” The entire apartment fills with light, and Caleb silently pats himself on the back. Now, all that’s left is for you to come home.

—

“It was just a system update,” Caleb mumbles through a mouthful of noodles.

“But I tried that!” you insist, slamming your chopsticks down onto the table. “I tried everything except replacing them.”

“Yeah, but did you also…” he rattles off so many technical terms that you start to feel nauseous, so you hold a hand up, and he laughs, taking it and interlacing his fingers with yours.

“Don’t worry,” he tells you, his thumb rubbing your hand. “I’ll start looking into smart bulbs that will integrate better with your apartment’s system.”

“What would I do without Caleb?” you sigh, starting to pick up your chopsticks again.

“I thought you said you didn’t need me,” he teases, continuing to rub your hand.

You wince. “That was the tequila talking.”

"Zayne," you half-whisper, hoping he doesn't get startled. He glances behind, and meets your eyes, giving you a sheepish smile.

"Sorry," he tells you, as you sit down next to him. "I'm not used to being asleep at this time. I thought I'd head out and get some fresh air."

You nod as you stifle a yawn. You lean against him, your shoulders touching. You look upwards to the sky as well, joining him in his stargazing.

"Wow." The breath that escapes your mouth comes out as mist. Above you are countless stars, splattered across an inky sky. You marvel at the sight, knowing you wouldn't be able to get a view like this back in the city.

It's another few moments before you feel the chill settle on your skin. You tremble involuntarily, and Zayne places a hand on your knee, squeezing it gently.

"Go inside," he coaxes you. "It's freezing. I'll join you in bed soon."

You rise from where you're sitting, almost regretful that you have to leave him. Then, an idea sparks within you.

---

Zayne is still staring up at the sky when he hears the sliding door open again. He sighs, resigning himself to head back in, when he sees a pile of blankets and pillows at the door. He blinks. Once, twice. The pile moves towards him. You release the pile, the pillows and blankets scattering across the deck. You had grabbed every single soft thing you could find in the cabin, and had brought it out to the deck.

"What are you doing?" Zayne asks, puzzled.

You wink at him. "Help me make the pillow fort. It's too nice of a night to stay inside."

Zayne chuckles, deciding to entertain your idea of the fort. Soon, there is a nest of bedding in the middle of the deck, and both you and Zayne admire it.

"Not bad, Doctor Zayne," you tell him, patting his arm. "You make a pretty good fort."

Zayne stares at the nest, then looks back at you. "What now?"

You raise an eyebrow at him. "Well, we get in it, of course!"

---

You can't help but sigh in contentment. The chill nips at your nose and cheeks, but you're wrapped up in a warm blanket, which you are sharing with Zayne. He has one arm wrapped around you, and your head is nestled into his shoulder. You're both surrounded by pillows, your heads propped up comfortably by a couple of them.

He gives your shoulder a soft squeeze. "Thank you. This... this is nice."

You stay silent, enjoying the stillness of the night. You look up at the sky, still stunned at the beauty of the stars. You see a small streak of light flash across the sky, and you can't help but gasp.

"Look, a shooting star! Quick, Zayne, make a wish!"

But Zayne isn't looking at the sky. His eyes are fixed on you. He presses his lips against the top of your head and whispers against your hair.

You nod, suddenly feeling sheepish. He smiles at you, his gaze softening. “Here, I’ll go first,” he says, peeling out of his grey sweater. The perfectly toned and sculpted muscles of his torso elicit a gasp from you, and your hand instinctively reaches out to touch one of his pecs. You realize that you’ve let your intrusive thoughts take over and you pull back again, but he manages to catch your wrist before you can fully retract it. He places your palm against his chest, and you swallow, stopping yourself from squeezing at his skin with your fingers.

“This isn’t fair,” you mumble, your hand rubbing on his skin. “You look like you’ve been sculpted from marble. I, on the other hand…”

Sylus blinks at you again, then realizes what the problem is. He leans in towards you, his hand travelling from your wrist and up your arm. You shiver at his touch, wanting to give yourself to him, but at the same time being afraid to reveal yourself.

“You, on the other hand…” he whispers, his hand trailing from your shoulder and to your cheek. “Are a blessing bestowed upon me.” His hand cups your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin. “I’m very lucky – but I’ll try not to push my luck. You take all the time you need. I can wait.”

He starts to pull away again, but you hold onto his arm, pulling him back. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, an inquisitive gaze. You nod at him, willing your fear and anxiety away. 

“I want you,” you tell him, your voice barely a whisper. “Please?”

He grins at you before leaning down, his lips softly landing on yours. Your arms wrap around his neck as the kiss deepens, his breath becoming one with yours. His hands play at the hem of your shirt, teasing slightly before snaking underneath it, his fingers finding your skin. You let out a little gasp, but let him continue, and soon, he’s pulling your shirt above your head and tossing it off the edge of the bed. He looms over you, panting slightly, his eyes wide. You want to cover yourself with your arms, but you leave your hands on his thighs. 

He goes in again, his lips going for your neck this time. Your heart feels like it’s going to beat its way out of your ribcage as his lips slowly travel along your skin. He pauses intermittently, taking a deep breath between kisses, trying to inhale your scent. His lips go everywhere – your shoulders, your chest, your stomach, going over all the nooks and crannies you never thought you’d let anyone see, let alone touch. But Sylus can’t seem to get enough. Your skin feels so soft against his lips, your scent intoxicating. His teeth grazes your skin, and he restrains himself, leaving your skin unbitten, unmarked.

He eventually reaches your hips, and he starts to pull down your shorts. He gives you a look, as if to ask for permission, and you nod again, letting him have access to your whole body. A ravenous glaze washes over his eyes, but he seems to hold himself back, taking off your underwear slowly and gently. His lips kiss at your inner thighs, teasing his way in before going to the heat in the middle of your legs. His lips lock onto you, drawing out a low moan from you. His hands are gripping at your thighs, pulling you closer to him. 

---

"Xavier! Xavier, help!"

There's a beat of silence before you hear his rushed, heavy footsteps.

The door to the bathroom swings open, and you see Xavier, one hand gripping the handle, and the other the doorframe.

"What-"

Before he can say anything else, you rise from the side of the bathtub, and reach for his arm, pulling him into the bathroom. You close the door, and lock it behind you, preventing him from attempting escape.

Xavier stares at you, then his eyes flicker towards the bathtub, then back to you. You motion with your head towards the tub, which is covered in bubbles, with small tendrils of steam rising from it.

Xavier, having sensed your plan, sighs. "Are you serious?"

You press your back against the bathroom door. "Deadly. Get in the tub."

He shakes his head. It's dim in the bathroom, with only a few candles lighting the room, but you see a shy grin tug at the corners of his lips.

Wordlessly, he starts undressing, and you realize that you're still in the room with him. You inhale sharply, hoping that he doesn't notice, but his eyes meet yours, and he smirks.

"Are you going to watch me get naked?"

You immediately spin around, nose pressed against the door, hoping that he didn't see the flush spreading across your cheeks. You hear him chuckle as the last of his clothes fall to the ground. He lets out a soft hiss as he steps into the tub, and you hear the water splash at the sides of it.

"Oh... oh my..."

There are another few splashes as he submerges himself, and you turn again to see Xavier's head just slightly peaking out from the bubbles. He dunks his head into the water, then rises out of it again, his hair plastered to his forehead. He glances at you and gives you a drowsy grin.

"Thank you. This is heavenly"

You nod, and you turn to head out of the bathroom, but Xavier's arm shoots out of the tub and his soapy fingers wrap around your wrist. They're slippery, but his grip is tight.

"Can you... can you stay with me a little bit?"

You take a deep breath in before you give him a smile. "Of course."

You kneel at the edge of the tub, watch as his eyes start to flutter shut again. You reach for the shampoo bottle on the bathroom counter, pop it open, and squeeze some of it into your palm. You then shuffle around to the end of the tub where Xavier's head is, and you rub your hands together, producing some foam. You reach for his head, your fingers finding his hair once again. Xavier lets out a drawn out groan, which causes heat to spread across your cheeks, but you say nothing, and you continue massaging the shampoo into his hair.

You hear him start to snore again, and this time, you can't bring yourself to wake him up. You admire the small droplets of water that have formed on his eyelashes, the warm feeling going from your face to the pit of your stomach. His forehead is covered in suds, but you can't resist - you press your lips lightly against it, murmuring into his damp skin.

---

You sigh, relishing in the way the cool water trickles down your face and onto your neck. You grab the hand towel hanging near the sink, and wipe your face, looking at your reflection in the mirror. Whatever this is, food poisoning or a stomach bug, it is definitely kicking your ass. But somehow, you had managed to wipe down the toilet bowl and sink with a household cleaning spray - you're afraid of whatever it is you have spreading to Rafayel.

You consider making your way back to his room. Right now, it seems like a pilgrimage, something just slightly out of your reach. You look at the bathroom floor. For some reason, its cool tiles beckon to you. For one, you won't be waking Rafayel up with your constant trips to the bathroom. Plus, if you did need to hurl again, the toilet would be right there. You resign yourself to lie down on the floor, thankful that he does keep his bathroom clean. Your fevered skin feels good against the cool tiles, and soon, you find yourself drifting back to sleep.

---

You wake again, but this time, it's your throat that snatches you from your slumber. It's burning, and you want to gasp for air, but you feel like a single breath could tear it apart.

Water... the sink!

Your hand reaches out to the floor next to you, as you attempt to stand. Instead of the floor, it manages to catch something else, something that tumbles to the ground when you hit it. You squint at it, suddenly realizing how dark it has become. You swear you had left the lights on. Amidst your confusion, you see that the thing you hit was a bottle of water.

Water!

You swipe at it, suddenly afraid that you're hallucinating and dreamt the bottle of water up. You manage to grip it tight, and you desperately start twisting the cap. It comes loose, and within the next second, you're downing the entire bottle. The relief that comes makes you want to weep with joy. You've never enjoyed drinking water this much.

After you finish chugging down the bottle, you look at it, perplexed. How did it get here? And why is it dark? What happened to the lights?

You attempt to stand, and you place your hand behind you. Instead of the cool, tiled floor, you're pushing up against something warm and soft.

"Hey, watch it!"

Rafayel sits up from the floor, and he's rubbing sleep out of his eyes again, squinting at you. You stare at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

"What are you doing here?" you croak. You look at him, and see he's brought a blanket with him. Where your head was, there is now a rolled up towel with the shape of your head indented into it. There was nothing there but floor before.

"I found you in the bathroom on the ground. I thought you passed out and fell. When I tried to wake you up, you told me to piss off." His voice is also croaky, annoyance tinging it slightly.

You blink at him. "Oh, sorry. I must have been having a fever dream."

At the mention of the word "fever", Rafayel once again places his palm against your forehead. Heat spreads across your cheeks, but it's not because of the fever. There's a fluttering feeling in your stomach as Rafayel examines you, his face just inches from yours. "You still feel a little warm."

"I'll be fine," you assure him. You hold up the bottle, now empty. "And thank you for the water."

He gives you a drowsy grin, then gives you a quick peck on your forehead. Your cheeks warm up again, and you're tempted to give him a kiss back. He senses this and gives you a couple of gentle taps on your cheek.