If you don't have him now, you're pretty sure you're going to explode. Even while you're supposed to be on "vacation", Zayne finds a way to work. It's like it's built into his DNA or something. You allow him grace, the most sought after cardiac surgery within a hundred miles and certainly throughout the country, you're proud of him and know he's dutiful. Who are you to curb his desire to help and heal?

You're just a woman, though. A woman with needs— and right now you need to feel him fill you up, stretch you out with that thick c—

Your hand pauses and you squeeze the kitchen counter. You're making his coffee as he likes it, cream and just the slightest bit too sweet. The thought of feeling him inside of you is enough to make you clench around nothing, aching for it.

Very soon. You're convincing and he's weak to anything you request of him…most of the time. After finishing both of your coffees, you head to his office with matching mugs in hand and a mischievous grin you're trying to curb before you hit the doorway. Sweet, maybe a flutter of your lashes and a cute voice and he'll give in for sure.

When you gently nudge the door to his office open with your hip, you're unsurprised that he's focused heavily on his screen, mug next to him untouched, probably cold. He's shirtless—maybe because you have on his shirt—as he reads through whatever task he set out to this morning. The ache from earlier only intensifies seeing his broad, muscular chest on display. You walk over to his desk, looking into his coffee mug to see it completely black.

"…Did you mess up your coffee this morning?" You place the fresh one you made down and gently move the other.

"I received a call right after the drip finished and didn't have a moment to complete it," Zayne responds and stops typing at the smell of fresh coffee, his eyes breaking from the screen to look up at you. You shuffle your matching cup next to his before turning to him, your touch gentle as you push his glasses back up from sliding down his nose.

"Did you have breakfast?" You move your hand through his disheveled hair, watching his eyes close as you comb it through gently. A smile widens your lips as he leans into your hand, reaching for his coffee mug and bringing it to his face.

"Of course not," he tilts his head up to take a sip and you snort softly, crossing your arms.

"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day," you mock his doctor voice with a cheshire cat's grin as he narrows his eyes at you. It's short lived when he tastes his coffee, eyes closed in contentment.

"Mmm…" he sits back for a moment and you note his relative state of undress, a pair of sweatpants the barrier to your prize. "Did you have breakfast?"

"…We're not talking about me right now," you deflect, reaching for your coffee and taking a sip to avoid speaking. A small smirk lifts the corner of his lips. He thinks he's so clever.

"I've been reviewing patient charts all morning. Why don't we get lunch together in an hour or two?" Zayne's offer is tempting, knowing you can and will reprimand him for working on your rare days off together. He even gives a time frame and an option not linked to staying in the house.

"I'd like that." Of course you do. Time with Zayne is time well spent—which is why this offer is not going to dismiss you, your original goal in mind.

"It's settled then," Zayne sets down his mug and begins sliding his chair close to the desk. Oh, absolutely not. You place your mug down and cross your arms, tapping your foot. It catches his eye and he looks to you. "What's wrong?"

"Where are my thank you kisses?" You lift a brow and he huffs a laugh, turning to face you and reach for your arm, loosening your stance quickly. Necessary? No. Giving you your opening? Yes.

"How could I forget?" His lips brush yours and you decide now is the best time for your plan of attack. You lean into the kiss, deepening his gentle pecks and luring him with gentle nips against his lips. He grunts softly, opening his mouth and you don't wait to slide your tongue against his, the taste of him and the too-sweet-for-you coffee mixing. His hand squeezes your arm as he tries to escape but you whimper softly. "Baby, if you want me to keep the time I promised, I need to finish working."

"I don't think I've been properly thanked yet," you pout, leaning into to peck his lips again. He chuckles, his hands sliding along your waist beneath your too big shirt.

"I'll make it up to you later."

"Or…you can indulge me right now…and later." You beam a smile at him, gently nuzzling his nose and tracing a finger down his chest and abs, reveling in the way his muscles flex under your touch. "I have an easy solution."

"Does it involve your patience?" Zayne knows the answer the moment your fingers trace along the waistband of his sweats. You raise a brow and he considers for a moment before tilting his head. "Name your terms."

"Let me sit on it while you're working," your tone turns sultry as you feel the bulge in his pants twitch beneath your hand. His face is turning the loveliest shade of red, high point of his cheeks and ears brightening by the moment. His glasses are beginning to fog with how quickly his skin heats and you already know you've won.

"You expect me to work in those conditions?" Zayne's eyes are wide behind his glasses as he stares at you in disbelief.

"You're the top cardiac surgeon in all of Linkon. Surely you can keep your composure, no?" You tease, feeling the evidence of his interest at the idea growing beneath your teasing hand. "Consider it a test of your resolve…or letting me have what I've been craving since I woke up."

You watch his eyes rove over your body, hand caressing over the curve of your hips and ass, contemplation lighting his features. He moistens his lips and you reach up to remove his glasses, setting them behind you on his desk. He doesn't protest, allowing you to grab his hand and place it over your panties. He groans softly, feeling how damp the fabric is and looks up, wonder in his hazel eyes as you smile down at him.

The sound of a few pings behind you makes you tilt your head, hair brushing over your bared shoulder and leading his eyes to your skin exposed by his shirt slipping a bit.

"May I? If not, I suppose I can just take care of myself…" you cheer internally when he leans back in the chair.

"No need, baby. Take what you want."

You take in his flushed skin, his hazel eyes dark as he watches you slip your panties off, stepping out of them when you let them drop to the floor. You straddle over his still clothed thighs, not missing how his eyes travel down between you, his hand reaching out to brush your skin and lift your shirt.

You busy yourself with freeing him from the confines of his sweatpants and moan quietly, stroking him slowly as you fixate on his cock. You're clenching around nothing again, eager as he lets out his own quiet groan, lifting his hips to help shimmy his sweats down just enough.

Both his hands settle on your hips and you lift his shirt up, holding the bottom between your teeth so he can watch as you slide the tip of him over your clit, hips jolting as his do, his grip tightening around you. His breathing is labored as you slide him over your wet opening, slick and pulsing as it catches before you slide him over your clit again.

Should you prep more? Probably. Normally, he renders you damn-near incoherent before he even considers giving you his cock, no matter how desperate you are for it. 'Behave, my love. Preparation is important.'

Now? You're much too impatient for that. Every rock of your hips deepens the furrow in his brow, concentrated on you teasing him. He's so beautiful like this, unable to hide his need of you. His tongue comes out to wet his lips again, short breaths drying them as you sink down just slightly, smiling as he bites his lip.

"Baby…" his head tilts back with a groan, one of his hands slides around your hip to grip your ass.

"Watch," your speech is muffled around the shirt but he understands it well enough, his head tilting up and eyes blown with desire.

"Let me he—" Zayne's words are cut short by a choked groan when you properly begin to slide him inside of you. The stretch of him causes your mouth to drop open, shirt falling and gasp escaping you. Zayne lifts your shirt with one hand, groaning as he watches you take him. Your hands come up to his shoulders, slowly lifting and bearing down. You're sure you'll have his fingerprints imprinted on your ass as tightly as he's holding you.

"Take it slow," his voice is low, breathy—the strain underneath fueling your resolve. You kiss him again, holding yourself still and moan into his mouth as he wraps both arms around you. Fully distracted by the kiss, both of you desperately devouring each other's mouths, you give no warning when you slide down until you're seated in his lap.

The gasps that leave both of you makes a shudder go down your spine, your hands tangled in his hair. He holds you tightly against him, groaning against your lips as you mewl in response, walls squeezing around him, every subtle twitch of him making you almost dizzy.

"Reckless…" he breathes against you and you laugh softly. He's not wrong but you can't bring yourself to regret a thing, the insatiable ache of needing him inside you finally answered.

"Full," you quip, smiling against his lips and staying as still as you can while you adjust. It's exactly as you wanted, happy to be stretched around his heavy cock. As you relax it only feels better, a pleased sigh on your lips. Zayne's breathing evens out, gentle kisses pressed along your jaw and down your neck as you both settle comfortably. "Just what I needed."

"You're spoiled," Zayne soothes a hand over your lower back and over your ass again, gentle in his movements. You kiss him softly before hooking your chin over his shoulder, letting your body relax against his and readjusting your legs so they're comfortably bracketing his hips.

"Who's fault is that? Certainly not mine," you sigh, whining when he lifts you slightly only to bring you down onto him, face still buried in your neck as he repeats the motion a few times. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, a whine crooning from you as your walls flex around him. "Don't tease me when you're going to work."

"You lured me in with coffee and an offer I would be negligent to refuse. Who's teasing who here?" With a hint of amusement, he settles you in his lap again, ignores your whimpers and moves closer to the desk. "Behave now, and let me work."

"Meanie." You joined him in his office with the sole focus of getting what you wanted, tease or no tease. You would have done anything, need to sate your appetite stronger than your resolve to let him work in peace. Fortunately for you, Zayne isn't totally resistant to your charms. He's just a man, after all. A man who adores his wife and would never deny her.

He lets out an amused huff and the sound is followed by the staccato tap of the keys as he responds to his messages. You're happy to let the conversation lull, to close your eyes and listen. Your inner horny gremlin is momentarily satisfied, face turned into his neck, taking in his clean scent, peppering soft kisses against the column of his throat—meant to appease you, not stir him.

One of his hands periodically traces your back beneath your shirt, rubbing circles into the small of your spine, sliding over your thigh and soothing over your skin. It's enough to lull you into an easy, comfortable state of just being—together with him in mutual silence, yet enjoyment of each other's presence. If this is as close to being inside his skin as you can get, you'll take it.

He shifts his hips, grunting when you squeeze around him on reflex, your eyes fluttering in pure bliss when he does it again. Knowing he's not totally unaffected by your position ignites the desire for more. You're being as obedient as you can muster, though the thought to misbehave tingles at the back of your mind.

Zayne won't mind much, considering he guides you the slightest bit to grind against him when he grabs his coffee mug or goes back to reading. He is mostly quiet, reading the chart aloud in some instances, particularly after a stuttered breath or when his muscles tense beneath you.

"Have some of your coffee," he sits you up and you look at him with lidded eyes, your body relaxed as you take your coffee mug he offers. He gently brushes your cheek as you drink, flush to his cheeks still evident. "This is truly all you wanted?"

"I mean,"—you smirk, squeezing around his cock and he twitches in response—"I'm open to suggestion."

"Hmm…We'll never make it to lunch," Zayne takes your mug and places it on his desk.

"…Tou…ché," you trip over words when his hand slides between you, knuckle circling your clit in unhurried circles. His other hand undoes the buttons of your shirt until you're exposed to his heated gaze, his eyes trailing down when you grind towards his teasing hand. He leans in and kisses your neck, your collarbone, nipping at the skin as you whimper his name, walls fluttering around his stiff cock.

"I haven't made any progress on reading a single thing, my love,"—his tone is firm with reprimand, lower ranges of his voice making you grind in urgency towards his slow moving hand—"you are distracting. How am I to get anything done with you squeezing me like this?"

"Zayne," you moan his name and he tilts you back until you're pressed against his desk, your breasts closer to his mouth. Lingering kisses pepper down the center of your chest, his tongue slides over your nipple, sucked into his warm mouth and tortured with broad swipes. He's patient as always, slow circles on your sensitive clit and bordering painful nips of your nipple. You reach up to bury your hand in his hair, whimpering as he releases your nipple to switch to the other.

"I suppose I don't have the best composure when it comes to you, hm?" He grabs your ass and shifts you back and forth, groaning against your breast and you tighten your hand, a gasp leaving you. You truly meant to come in here and cockwarm him until he was done working but now you need him to fuck you—or to ride him, whichever works. "You…are the one distraction I can't deny even if I want to."

"Zayne, please…" you lean up and look at him, grinding down into his lap. Your desire for him is just as undeniable, driving your very need to be cradled into his lap as close as you two can get. He slides both hands beneath you at the cleft of your thighs and ass to support your weight.

"It's yours, my love. Take it," he has the slightest smirk on his face and you place your hands on his chest for leverage, lifting up and grinding down with his guidance. A choral groan from both of you, you take an extra moment before beginning a steady bounce against him, lifting your hips and coming down in swift motions that elicit fervent medleys from you, your nails leaving crescent shapes in his skin.

Zayne is big and you love taking every inch of him. He fills you in just the way you like, angles his hips in the right way to leave you a babbling mess when he's on top. You know this is where he likes you, however, bouncing in his lap, moaning his name, thighs trembling around him as you squeeze around his throbbing cock and try not to come too quickly. Your orgasm is threatening you now, another bounce and you're out of rhythm as your body trembles, pleasure humming through your veins and escaping you in lilting moans.

"Zayne!" You call out his name as he groans, guiding you back into the steady cadence of your hips meeting, hazel eyes ravenous, locked onto your face with parted lips and gasping breaths.

"I've got you," he watches you with the same awestruck gaze, his fingers digging into your skin as he guides you down onto his cock with unrelenting pressure against your spot. The sound of your hips meeting, your labored breathing and shared moans fill the space around you and you're entranced by it, giving into the melody of sensual ambience dragging you towards another orgasm. "Again."

"Please," you feel one of his hands leave you, only for him to slide his fingers through the mess you're making to rub firmly over your clit. A sharp gasp leaves you, hips adjusting pace to chase his movements.

"Good girl. Don't hold back," he rolls your clit faster and you whine, your head tossed back in pleasure. Your hips bounce out of stride again and Zayne groans when you come around him. You throb and squeeze around him and he's helpless to falling over the edge with you, hips meeting yours roughly and teeth against your bared shoulder. You moan against his temple, holding him close as he fills you up, spilling back out with each filthy grind into you.

"Fuck…" you whimper and he wraps his arms around you, holding you close with sloppy kisses against your collarbone and neck, still rocking his hips up into you. You slump against him, boneless in his grip and responding in kind to his affection. His lips meld with yours and you return his kiss, slow and indulgent.

Zayne peppers kisses along your face and you're warm and giddy, gently playing with the longer hairs at the base of his skull.

"Working on vacation is a sin anyway," you laugh when he smirks.

"I suppose I'll work on you instead."

ᰔ divider credit: pixopix ᰔ divider credit: pixopix ᰔ

a/n: thank you for reading! leave a comment if you feel so inclined, it helps feed my raging muses.

“Did you want my colleagues to hear you?” Zayne’s stern voice against your ear is going to be the end of you.

His fingers are soaked between your legs, sliding between your folds, teasing your clit in firm circles, curling in to press where you want him. In his lap, legs spread, heeled feet utilizing his desk for leverage you were quite the scene, should someone walk in. Your dress is pooled around your waist and the obscene sounds of his fingers sliding in and out of you are the only other noises—less your just-slightly-too-loud moans.

“N-o…” you barely get out, a pitiful whimper.

His arm wraps around you tight and your eyes zone out when he begins a steady and sure rhythm, persistent and playing your body like a well tuned instrument. You’re trying your hardest to stifle your moans, biting your bottom lip, grasping at his hand around you to move it to your mouth.

“Be good for me. Shh…” his breath is warm against your ear, a shudder down your spine as he continues. “You’re so excited, my love. How bold of you to come to my office without any panties on.”

He shushes you when you whine softly, adjusting his hold on you until his other hand is free to play with your clit, an added layer of sensation to the precise glide of his fingers inside of you. Your mouth falls open and he brushes his lips along the shell of your ear.

“Shhh…breathe through it.”

He takes a deep breath that you fumble through following, soft sounds of pleasure as he builds you toward your orgasm. You know well enough what you need to do to achieve it. Your body trembles with the knowledge of it and he grunts softly, coaxing your body to come to its peak.

“I can feel you. Remember your manners or this will end quickly for you.”

“May I?” You no longer have it in you to be the brat you intended when your first arrived, your body too close, your legs too tense. “Please, Zayne…”

“Let it go for me.”

Your body gives in immediately, legs shaking and eyes rolling as your body arches off his chest. You feel his lips on yours as you cry out, silencing your cry into his mouth as he urges you through. Your hands are grasping anywhere you can reach him as you feel yourself coming all over his hands, making a mess and earning a low groan from him. “Good girl. Make a mess for me.”

You clench around his fingers at his coaxing, whimper when he presses too precisely over your increasingly sensitive clit and breathe harshly against his lips, mumbling his name.

“What a pretty picture you make…” His fingers slow to a stop, sliding from you and pressing against your lips. “Clean yourself up.”

Zayne knows how to take control, is masterful at it, but you know just how to take it back. You take his fingers into your mouth and lick them clean, keeping eye contact with him as he rolls his hips up, hard cock against your lower back.

“Is it my turn, Doc-tor?”

What better place to feed his aether core than an auction? Sylus can list a few, none of which landed him in a low-lit, gaudy room where nothing of value is present. Initial deals of the evening complete, he looks for reprieve from its craving. No lavish meal, no late night drive, no high stake gun fight has sated the hunger within him. He is ravenous. The word barely scratches the surface of the desire stirring in his veins, his energy a steady thrum through his nerves.

What a pain in the ass. He could buy out the entire auction if he saw fit and knew only one thing could bring him peace.

You.

He was ruined before he got his hands on you—only to realize you remember nothing. No endless fields of datura. No chapels, echoes of sweet melodies played on the organ. No welcome of him to your world. Just fear, anger—however misplaced—and disgust from the one person who truly saw him.

You are unavailable. Unwilling. So, he must make do where he can. Most times an auction can fill his need for a thrill. There is competition and if he is lucky, a shoot out—an adrenaline rush to keep him going until the next time mischief finds him. His fingers slowly spin the glass of what was whiskey beneath his palm while he scans the room. There is no telling what will catch his eye when he is like this, whether that is a piece on stage or—

"Compliments from a guest." A waitress slides his glass from beneath his hand and places his regular order on the table, a smile on her face as she gestures nearby.

Sylus has seen this "guest" just enough for her to be familiar. She is a frequent flier at these auctions, normally against a far wall and watching the auction closely as if in search for something. By the time the last item is called, she and her almost-comically taller bodyguard have disappeared, uninterested in the result.

Tonight is different. She found an enviable spot in the large room, back to the wall, exit visible, bodyguard still looming on her side—in his line of sight. Her phone is in her hand, attention divided from the clamor of the auctioneer goading the room. None of the lavish items appear to catch her attention, barely a glance at each one before returning her attention to her phone.

A drink is one way to catch his attention. She is easy on the eyes, well dressed, relaxed in an otherwise energized room. He lifts the glass as the waitress walks away and the woman looks away from her phone, eyes on him. A slow smile splits her lips and she raises her wine glass to him which he mirrors before they take a sip. A smirk lifts the corner of his mouth as his energy pulses.

A new item is presented by the auctioneer and her eyes linger on it for just a moment longer than usual. Sylus can feel the change in her pulse, see the way she subtly shifts in her chair, the way her eyes light up as the velvet box is placed beneath the lighting to entice the crowd.

When she finally begins to bid, she bids high, keeping interest off of the item. How high is she willing to go? Sylus puts in his own bid, raising the small placard that lay forgotten next to his drink. She raises hers the next bid, calling out a much higher number than offered and Sylus grins. The two bid back and forth for a few moments—his aether core flares eating up the energy between them as she continues to challenge each of his bids. He finally concedes, no true stake in the bidding war other than to watch her eagerness increase by the moment. She turns to look at him, both triumphant and exasperated.

"There are less expensive ways to flirt, y'know," she says—voice full of amusement and accusation—"you could have sent back a drink."

"What's the fun in that?" Sylus counters, lazy grin on his lips and heat in his eyes.

"Do you even know what it is?"

"It was important enough for you to bid with me, that's what's most intriguing," he says.

"Unbelievable." The amusement is still there, so he's confident she takes no offense. "Your glass is empty. Care for another?"

"Is that in our best interest?" Sylus' eye glows red and she lets out a huff of laughter, turning to her bodyguard.

"Don't wait up."

—

Names are not important. Their clothes are gone within moments of feverish kisses and eager hands pulling and tugging at each other. They are in the bedroom in record time—bites, and kisses, and heavy breaths exchanged in a frenzy. His aether core feeds on his energy and places demands on her body, devours every keen and cry in pleasure. With each lick, each well placed suck, slender fingers drag orgasm after orgasm from her.

What he wouldn't give for this to be you.

He would take his time, kiss you slow, reacquaint his senses with everything that is you.

He would map out every spot on your body that makes you sing for him. Are they the same or has time given him the pleasure of learning you anew? Would you guide him where you wanted him, needy eyes and trembling fingers? Or would you demand exactly what you wanted, take what is rightfully yours until you reached your peak? The thought alone is enough to make his cock twitch. You using him for your pleasure. At your service.

A shift in position leaves him on his back and despite a quick chat before they got to the room, the burn of his evol coils beneath his skin. She is not stupid, her eyes on his as she makes extra effort to soothe him—gentle haphazard patterns drawn on his chest. It is only then he hears the low rumbles beneath his ragged breath.

"If you don't want me on top, you can just say that," she says with a smile. He sucks in a breath, letting it out slow. They are supposed to be fucking, not thinking about newly found soulmates.

"I don't want you on top." He flips them back over, scoffing at the pout on her face. "Pouting?"

"You're selfish," she huffs.

"Selfish?" She can't be serious. How many times did she come already? Four—but he is not keeping count. It is not a complaint he is used to hearing.

"Surely we can negotiate," she tilts her head, eyes glancing down to see he has already rolled on a condom. "Be generous."

"Demanding, aren't you? Turn for me.”

Sylus smirks as she grumbles before turning as directed. He maneuvers with her until his cock is lined up to her entrance and she bends forward on her own, her chest pressed to the bed and arms bent next to her for leverage. Sylus squeezes her ass as he begins sliding inside of her, keeping steady until she is pressed against his hips.

"Come on,"—she punctuates her need by wiggling her hips—"fuck me."

He listens to her moan when he pulls out, trying to drown out the thought of you bent to his will on all fours, and slams back into her. Her head drops to the bed as he begins pounding into her, steady as she reaches her arms in front of her and grips the blanket tightly. Her mouth opens, fervent moans knocked out of her through the momentum of his thrusts.

His hands are on her hips and he pulls her back to meet him swift and powerful, her body shaking with the onslaught. A shift in her position leaves her neck exposed and his mouth waters. Oh, the urge to bite is so strong. To sink his teeth into her flesh, feel the give of it as her blood coats his tongue. He tempers the desire—not until it is you with a grip around his cock, begging for him to fill you up.

The quicker this is over, the better.

Sylus' hand slides over her hip and reaches between her legs to flick her clit, content when she bucks back as her orgasm causes her back to bow, her legs and body shaking in bliss as she cries out. Her pussy vibrates around him, squeezing, impelling him to chase his orgasm. A shudder goes through his spine. Much like the last encounter, this one will not satisfy his need. It is not enough. It is supposed to help, these flings and casual moments to get off. To take his mind off you, ease the need to have you.

It makes it worse.

He has lost count of how many he has slept with—all a means to an end. Detached. Transactional. They need. He needs. He gives. They take. At least one of them leaves breathless and satisfied. Each encounter has led him down a path of torment, unable to recreate the peace he has built with you time and again. He reunited with you—and he cannot have you. Listen to your heavy breaths as you come from his efforts to bring you pleasure. Feel your fingers gripping him any place you can reach. More. Please.

Echoes of your voice ring in his head, drowning out the moaning woman beneath him. I love you.

With a grunt he comes, hips driving into hers, your voice repeating the words like a mantra in his head. His legs spasm with the force behind his orgasm and he can feel her body still shaking, her legs wobbling beneath his heavy thrusts. His chest heaves as his forehead drops to her shoulder, eyes closed as the hunger of his aether core becomes a buzz in the back of his brain. Or perhaps that is the whiskey.

"Kitten?"

Sylus' head shoots up to look at her profile, her brow raised. "What?"

"Kitten. That's what you just called me." She seems like she may like the nickname and he feels a knot in his stomach, getting up and carefully pulling out to make space between them.

"My mistake."

“I taught you better than that, didn’t I?” There’s a hint of scolding in the bass of his voice as it vibrates against your back, the warmth of his breath against your ear causing your eyes to drift closed. Never did you think you would make these pitiful sounds escaping you in soft pleas, but how can you help it? “Would you like me to stop?”

“No!” Your breath rushes out of you, whimpering and pathetic as his finger deftly slides over your clit, rolling it beneath the taunting digit and drawing a sharp breath from you. 

“You would do well to behave and follow my instructions then.” You’d do anything he said, hopelessly devoted to the Master of Fate. That’s how you find yourself in his lap, legs open, back to his chest and falling apart as he brings you so close to the edge only to stop when you disobey his command. “You’re not focused.”

The cool tingle of his power vibrates against your sensitive flesh and you gasp, tension stiffening your back and legs as your hips can’t decide whether to push towards or away from him. A strong hand presses against your belly, anchoring you to him and giving you less option to move either way. 

“Focus.” His voice rumbles by your ear, vibration of his power intensifying and drawing a lewd moan from you. Pleasure beats through your hips, your thighs, cool sensation layering. It’s borderline torture as each fruitless arch of your hips only makes you more aware of his stiff cock behind you. “Deep breath.”

You want to tell him to fuck himself but to his point, you’re too breathless to do so. He mimics the breath he wants you to take - inhale, exhale, kiss to the back of your neck. Inhale. Exhale. Kiss to the soft curve of your jaw. The frustration of him luring you so close to your orgasm each time only to snatch it away is evil, but you’re falling right back into the lull of him guiding you into focusing solely on him. Gentle whispers making you lose your focus on the pleasure blooming through your body, making your heart race as he praises you for giving into him.

“You’re doing so well…” He presses against you just enough to relieve the pressure from you nestled against his straining cock. “Always so good for me…”

You turn your face into his neck to muffle the moan that leaves you when his cool fingers slide into you, achingly slow and breaking your resolve all over again. Your vision spots as the slightest curl of his fingers sends you crashing over the edge. The thrum of his power at his fingertips mercilessly continues as you vibrate around his fingers, gripping around them. His low moan is nearly drowned out by the breathless pleas of his name on your lips, his arm around your waist holding you tightly against him. 

“Zayne…” You grasp his wrist gently and the sensation of his power ceases, however his fingers remain inside of you letting you know things are far from over.

“It would seem you need more training.” Zayne’s eyes catch yours as you lazily look up to him, breaths heavy as he leans down to brush his lips against your forehead. “Again."

Zayne is consistent.

He joins you—body beneath the covers, insisting you don’t move from your spot in the center of the bed. He makes room for himself laying between your legs, buries his face against your chest as his body presses against yours. 

“Read to me,” his voice is sleep addled, barely making words. He’ll be sleep before you finish the page. Your arms are around his shoulders, resting the book gently against him as he adjusts a few times, content to lie across you, his arms around you as best he can.

Zayne is demanding.

Your voice fills the quietness of the room as you read the page of the book. The moment he goes boneless in your arms, hazel eyes closing in exhaustion, a smile stretches your lips. Your heart melts at the sight of him, soft gaze at your big dear snowman dozing off. His hold around you loosens slightly and he nuzzles you, attempting to burrow into your warmth.

Zayne is adorable.

You turn the page to continue reading, though your words are quieter. Your fingers card lightly through his still damp hair, brushing the strands away from his handsome face. His breaths are deep, warming your shirt. Some nights are like this, him so filled with exhaustion you barely get words from him after work and you filled with warmth as he always melts into your arms. It never fails to lift your spirits to see him relax when he’s with you. 

Zayne is yours.

And you are his.

“What do you mean ‘he left’?” Half asleep, curled against his chest, you look up at Zayne with confusion. Just gone? Not the response to the groggy question you mumble as you wake.

“He was on his phone for a few moments, and then mentioned returning later.” Zayne stops reading the medical report in his hand as you shoot up from his chest, hands haphazardly searching for your phone somewhere between the cushions.

“Did he say where he was going? How long?”

“Does he ever?” Zayne’s hand gently soothes along your waist, adding pressure to bring you back down to his chest. “He’ll return.”

“...He’d better.” You give into his coaxing and lay back down, thoughts on Sylus’ whereabouts shoving sleep aside. “Do you think he needs my help?”

“I’m certain he can handle himself, my love.” Zayne chuckles at your hyper-vigilance, squeezing your waist. “You needn't worry. Rest.”

“I can’t now…” You draw patterns across his chest, nuzzling against his warmth. It's pointless to be so worried about the Onychinus leader, his name alone enough to ward off most problems before they start. Only the truly deranged dare to engage him in a fight and you’ve never seen him lose.

Big bad Onychinus leader is always ten steps ahead.

He’ll come back in one piece.

He’s fine.

…Wait.

“Why didn’t he wake me up?” The question is rhetorical, borne from self-soothing your anxious mind to believe he is indeed fine, but Zayne responds anyway.

“You were sleeping soundly. It would be a shame to wake you.”

“…You told him not to, huh?” You look up at him, suspicious as he clears his throat, his eyes focused on his report with feigned interest.

“Perhaps.” A smile lifts the corner of his mouth and you gently hit his chest with a laugh.

“I can't believe he agreed.” You start to relax, anxiety driven away with ease in his presence. He never fails to bring you back down with his calm demeanor and penchant for finding just the right thing to say or do to make all worry disappear. “He didn’t get his good luck kisses before he left.”

Zayne tenses just slightly and it’s peculiar enough to make you sit up to properly, look at his face. The report lowers against your leg as his eyes evade yours. The crest of his cheeks take on an endearing shade of pink, color fading to red the longer you set your curious gaze on him.

“He got them from you!” A wide grin spreads across your face when an indignant huff leaves him, still avoiding eye contact. You gently poke his cheek, eyes sparkling as he drops the paper to grab your hand, gaze finally on you.

“He wouldn’t agree to not wake you without...compromise.” Zayne provides an explanation and your eyebrows shoot up, incredulous.

“Good luck kisses in exchange for my peaceful slumber?” Laughter bubbles up when the grip of his hands tighten slightly.

“You’re teasing me.” The pouty cadence to his accusation makes you cup his face, cuteness aggression rising by the moment.

“Sylus’ negotiation skills are second to none. I don't blame you.”

“We have differing viewpoints of what a 'negotiation' entails. It was closer to an ultimatum.”

“He’s charming.” Sylus does have a way of making his side appear 'right', even when it's questionable at best.

“He’s a fiend...” Zayne counters again and you kiss his cheeks, warmth against your lips as you giggle. “Greedy.”

“They're good luck kisses. One isn’t enough.” He stares at you a moment, something like recognition in his eyes as he smirks. “What?”

“One isn’t enough.” Zayne releases your hand to cup your chin, gently guides your face until your lips brush with his. “Are we all this insatiable?”

The answer is simple—a kiss on the lips, soft moans between you as it manifests in eager hands and dancing tongues. It's never enough. Each kiss goodbye holds a different meaning, an unspoken plea for the other where words are a fading candle to the flame inside you. Inside them.

Good luck. Come home. Be safe. Hurry back.

I love you.

Distantly, the door to your home opens, pulling the two of you from your reverie. You don't need to look to know it's Sylus, easing his way inside, quiet despite his large stature. Zayne's eyes cutting to the doorway is also a good indicator.

“Someone is back sooner than anticipated.” Zayne remarks as your fingers glide up against the column of his neck, nails causing a shiver to run through him. He is used to Sylus by now, but is almost as ornery when your time together is interrupted.

“It seems luck was on my side…” Warmth is at your back, comforting as it envelopes you followed by the scent of his cologne—deep, woody, the barest hint of citrus. “Where did I get that from?”

His voice rumbles by your ear, lips pressing against your exposed skin as you bare more of your neck to him. You let loose a giggle as a renewed flush adorns Zayne's skin, heat tinging his ears as he gazes at the Onychinus leader, incensed earth and playful fire.

"Your luck runs thin."

"How fortunate our good luck charm is within reach." Sylus' lips are warm against your jaw, your cheek. His hand brushes beneath your chin and it's second nature to tilt your head up, sighing softly as a chaste kiss presses against your lips. "My odds can only improve from here, isn't that right sweetie?"

ಇ. Good Luck

Ღ rating: general audience Ღ pairing: snowcrowmc Ღ tags: warm and fuzzy feelings, established relationship, gn!reader

ಇ. Zayne Is Yours

Ღ rating: general audience Ღ pairing: zayne x reader Ღ tags: warm and fuzzy feelings, established relationship, gn!reader

ಇ. Focus

Ღ rating: expicit 🔞🍋 || MDNI Ღ pairing: mof!zayne x reader Ღ tags: afab!reader, established relationship, evol with benefits, edging

ಇ. Keep Quiet

Ღ rating: expicit 🔞🍋 || MDNI Ღ pairing: zayne x reader Ღ tags: afab!reader, established relationship, vaginal fingering, (little) exhibitionism, praise, come eating, watersports if you squint (squirting)

ಇ. A Moment In Time

Ღ rating: general audience

Ღ pairing: zayne x reader

Ღ tags: (little bit?) of angst, hurt/comfort, implication of illness & treatment side effects (hair loss), reader has curly and coily hair, black!reader, gn!reader

ಇ. Coffee Break

Ღ rating: expicit 🔞🍋 || MDNI

Ღ pairing: zayne x reader

Ღ tags: cockwarming, piv, (little bit of) praise (it's zayne, after all), fem!reader (utilization of woman/she/her), hair undetermined texture (loose/long enough to brush shoulders), no mentions of skintone, body stature, etc

ಇ. Mistake

Ღ rating: expicit 🔞🍋 || MDNI Ღ pairing: sylus x nonMC Ღ tags: afab!nonMC, alcohol consumption (both parties), dubcon elements (the aether core is acting up), casual sex, reference to beyond cloudfall & crimson spirit, piv sex, yearn-maxing for his soulmate, sylus is looking for relief and he gets it...sorta

ಇ. to be updated! thank you for your patience .ಇ

ಇ. to be updated! thank you for your patience .ಇ