#d2g

“Helios—”

“Shut up and start running.” With that, he wrenches you forward. Breaking into a run and you’re forced to try and keep up, stumbling just as a great blast of wind disrupts the destruction behind you. 

Whipping your head just in time to catch a tall, dark figure rising through the fumes of smoke and ruination — your breath catches in your throat as recognition dawns: Gavin — you try and rebel with all your might against the secure grip Helios has around your wrist. “Let go! It’s Gavin! There are too many! We have to save—” 

Helios’ rage is all you witness as the man wheels on you, merciless fingers digging harsh crescents into your shoulders. “Follow your own advice, will you? You go back there now and you get him killed faster than he would without you hindering him.”

You flinch at the awful, glaring truth in those words. Powerless, all you can do is let your leaden feet trail as fast as they can after Helios. Stealing glances back every now and then, nerves fraught with worry for the man you love — one who no longer remembers you within this world. Helpless, your eyes catch the gingko bracelet tucked just beneath your jacket sleeve, wishing with all your might for Gavin’s safety. 

Please, be alright. Come back alive. Please Gavin. 

Weaving through several passages, the alarms blaring through every corridor; you do not cross paths with any more STF officers. 

Tumbling out through the exit at last, Helios sprints towards the black SUV parked along the curb. Revving up the engine as soon as he’s inside, he shouts for you to get in—

A deafening explosion rocks the very ground you stand on, rocks and debris flying every which way as you duck to take cover. Heavy smoke rises from a familiar part of the building and you watch in dawning horror, thoughts scattering at the notion of Gavin having been caught up in the blast. 

You can’t abandon him. 

You take off, back into the building, not heeding Helios’ shouts of your name. Your mind focused solely upon finding Gavin, whatever it takes. 

Fear constricts bitter tendrils across your throat as you cut through the thick cloud of smoke, crimson lights still blaring within the cramped space. You try to reach Shaw once more through the transceiver, static crackling at the other end of the line is all you hear in response to your desperate cries. “Shaw, can you hear me? Do you see anything through the surveillance cameras? Shaw!”  

Frustration and distress fueling hasty steps, you dash through smoky corridors, the static across the transceiver turning worse with each passing second. You reach to yank the device away before it blares to life with a tinny sound. “—hear me? Get out of there.... Don’t go any further!” 

You position the device closer to your ear, straining to hear him. “Shaw?!” 

A gloved hand clamps against your mouth, pressing you back firm against a body. Your captor — a man — moves to crowd you against the nearby wall. Before panic can truly kick in, his voice; a low rasp, washes over the back of your neck, “Don’t scream.”

Gavin. 

As if you’d been cut loose of strings, you collapse back against that familiar warmth, hands curling around the arm he’d slung across your chest — the gesture unconscious in nature. Before Gavin pulls away from you, gloved fingers finding your hand as he clasps it firm within his grasp, frowning. “I told you to stay out of danger.” 

A mute shake of the head is all you can offer, too overwhelmed to try and refute him. He’s alright and that’s all that matters in this moment. 

The dim lights overhead prevent proper assessment of his condition; you catch the vicious gashes carved across his uniform but before you can ask of his injuries, Gavin’s tugging you along as the two of you break into a run for the exit. 

Another explosion — smaller than the one earlier — sounds some ways behind you and Gavin urges you on faster. The grip he has on you hurts but you force your legs to keep moving, the breath in your lungs starting to burn from exertion and the polluted air around. 

An ominous crack rips through from somewhere overhead and you glance up in horror just in time to see the ceiling giving way, slow but sure; large chunks of brick coming loose to fall around the two of you. 

“Watch out!” You hear Gavin yell for you; the harsh tug of your wrist propelling you sideways. The next few instants, a dreadful tumult; cracks spidering across adjacent walls. The flutter of Gavin’s uniform is all you see across your field of vision as he reaches for you.

A sudden, terrifying feeling of weightlessness compels you to reach out a blind hand, scrabbling for support — you’re petrified at the thought of the floor giving way to darkness beneath your feet — before you feel the curl of familiar fingers against yours, entwining. Gavin’s breath; the sound of his voice soothing against your ear. “Hey. You’re alright. I’ve got you.” A hand he curves against the back of your head, pressing you against him as he rises into the air, maneuvering around the falling debris.

Damp warmth. You raise your head to catch sight of the profuse moisture clinging to pale skin. Watching how he grimaces as if in pain, the sweat that lines his forehead; you realize his Evol’s taking everything he has to keep you both steady in the air. 

This close, you catch sight of dark splotches against his uniform; his blood, most probably from his fight against the STF agents earlier. The use of his Evol draining him faster. 

“Gavin, you’re hurting yourself!”

Amber eyes capture yours; Gavin’s breath quickening rapid enough he doesn’t answer. Faltering within the air; a sudden drop he catches himself from with a pained grunt, propelling the two of you towards where you catch sight of Helios’ SUV, the man in question watching your descent, resting against the vehicle. 

A few feet above the ground, the air currents give way completely and the two of you go down hard, collapsing onto the asphalt as you struggle to soften Gavin’s fall with your own body. Helios moves forward then, easily reaching to haul Gavin onto his shoulder. Throwing a frosty glance your way, he deposits him into the backseat of his car. “Get in now.” 

The jump of a tendon within Gavin's jaw as he grits his teeth. Droplets of cold sweat trailing down the sides of his face as he watches you tend to the injury on his arm — he’s in pain. You try and ease your touch further on his wound as he tries and twists away from your touch once more. “I said it’s fine.” 

And just like his last few protests, you ignore him, choosing to keep your silence. Now that fear and worry have ebbed away, all you feel is anger and vexation at Gavin’s rash actions. 

His body’s scored with injuries — so many you notice even above his uniform — it frustrates you to know how he holds no regard for his own self. 

Gavin strains to move forward, fixing a white knuckled grip against the back of the passenger seat. “Did you— manage to find it?”

Helios extracts a black chip in response to the query, tossing it into the backseat. Gavin catches it with a visible wince. 

Helios swerves around a sharp turn causing you and Gavin to go crashing back into the seats. He inhales sharply, pressing a hand against his injured side. 

“Can you please drive slower?!”

Helios’ glacial gaze meets yours through the rearview mirror. “And let them catch us? You’re just bursting with bright ideas.”

You flush at that, throwing a glance back to check for pursuers. “I don’t see anyone.”

“A couple miles more before we can… consider ourselves safe.” Gavin answers, moving to discard his ruined jacket to the side before peeling off his bloodied shirt. He reaches for the first aid kit; you move forward to help. He glances at you askance. “I can take care of it myself.” 

“You’d only make a sloppy job of it.”  The two of you remain locked in a silent glare, neither truly willing to back down. Gavin watches you with that same, careful gaze — furrowed brows and clear, sharp eyes — appraising you as he might a suspicious stranger. The thought stings. He doesn’t recognize you in this world but it doesn’t make the strange unfamiliarity between the two of you any less painful. 

“It’s your abdominal area. It’d be hard for you to bandage yourself well enough with your injuries.” 

He doesn’t respond, gaze trekking towards the medicine and bandages in your hand; perhaps he senses you’re not about to back down and so, he complies reluctantly. Relaxing back onto the seat, he watches you work a salve around the injury on his stomach; without sound, without complaint.

Now, upon careful inspection, you observe the cruel nature of the gash across his abdomen. The blood now dried but you know it must’ve hurt. Although not deep enough to have caused any significant damage but dressing the injury hurts you as acutely as if it were your own. 

Letting your eyes wander slow across the expanse of his torso, you catch sight of familiar scars and some new — all healed and yet still carved onto skin. Painful reminders of what life Gavin leads; always in danger. 

You resist the urge to trail your fingers across the more fresh ones, curling trembling digits into fists just as you curb your questions, pulling away from his newly bandaged abdomen.

“...Why would you risk yourself like this?”

His eyes catch yours, hard and resilient. You know, you have no right to question what he does. The question spilled: an unconscious action. 

"It’s my duty.” The answer comes surprisingly easy, without suspicion or judgement and yet, it wounds you to hear it. 

Just as you move to pull away from him, Helios jams his foot on the breaks, screeching to an abrupt halt, you almost go tumbling forward before strong arms circle your waist, pulling you close and back into a firm chest. 

You raise your head to see he’s parked the car by a gas station. Throwing open the door, he angles a glance into the backseat. “Short stop. Get your lovers quarrel sorted before we leave. It’s giving me a fucking headache.”

Stifling silence descends as Helios slams the car door shut, leaving the two of you alone before you have the chance to respond. Shifting within Gavin’s arms — the man loosens his hold as soon as you move — you mutter some nonsensical excuse about getting snacks from the station store. 

You can hardly stand being close to him right now; inexplicable emotions roiling through you — you still don’t know how to deal with this Gavin, his indifferent demeanor frustrates and worries you but when he’s kind… it hurts far more than is bearable.

A hand shoots out to curl around your wrist just as you move to open the side-door. You glance back in surprise, your eyes meeting Gavin’s. Unreadable emotions flicker within his gaze. “Why do you look at me like that?” He questions, dragging you closer. 

You’re not quite sure what he’s asking or if you even possess the answer to that. “…Like what?”

A furrow worries in between his brows as if he’s trying to focus through a mist. A hesitant hand he raises; you feel the gentle caress of his thumb against your lip — you realize you've been biting at it — as he frees it of your teeth.  Watching as if he’s not quite sure of his own actions. 

Slipping his thumb across the bow of parted lips, trailing upwards… slow over the concavity of your cheek, leaving heat to gather in it's wake. Finally pressing delicate at the corner of your eye, swiping a careful path beneath it. “Like you’re trying not to cry.”

Your breath catches in your throat at the quiet observation; you have to squeeze your eyes shut against the onslaught of familiar emotions. 

Because I love you. And I lost you once.

“Because you’re constantly throwing yourself in danger. It… worries me.” 

“Why?”

You don’t reply. 

A short, ragged burst of laughter. “You’re not any less reckless. Didn’t I tell you…” A hand curves around the back of your head, pulling close as if to utter a well-guarded secret. “You don’t have to be the Queen. Live your life as a normal person.”

He exhales softly as if your adamancy exhausts him. “Yet I find you trying to infiltrate STF. Do you realize what could've happened if they'd managed to capture you? Do you—” His grip on you tightens. “Do you have any idea how much danger you were in?”

“Gavin, I can’t—”

“I promised you. And I’ll keep it. I’ll find the person you’re looking for.”

Your eyes burn; Gavin’s face wavering within your field of vision. 

“I don't understand...” His face contorts, as if pained. Tender digits sweep across your cheeks; you catch the wetness grazing his fingertips. 

“Why’re you crying?”

“You’re hurting me. It’s unfair that you’re like this… why are you still so—” good to me?

Gavin doesn’t speak. Choosing to wipe the tears that trail down your face; an endless stream. “I hate how you choose to compromise your own safety for the sake of your missions. Telling others to stay out of danger and yet you go and do just the opposite. I can’t tell if it’s cruel or kind of fate to bring you to me like this but I can’t bear the thought of you hurt, Gavin.” He watches you, silent. 

“I know... I know you think I have no reason to worry for you but I do. I can’t explain it. I—” Your incessant garbling tapers and dies with the press of warmth against your lips. Your eyes widening at the realization: Gavin’s kissing you. 

His mouth is tender, just as you remember it. Soft as it moves against yours, testing. The fan of his lashes this close, he’s just as beautiful. Beneath his lids, you catch the movement of his eyes, rapid; his brow furrowed as if in concentration. 

Before he stops abruptly, withdrawing. But you’re not done yet, swallowing his apology into your mouth as you press back into him. 

Coveting him just as hungrily as the hands that slide down the expanse of your back, settling at your hips. Before he lifts you and into his lap; you follow eager and wanting. 

This kiss is devoid of tenderness; all ferocity and desire you pour into it, wanting him to know how he leaves you uncertain, despite your better judgement. Despite the voice of reason insisting this isn’t your Gavin. You can’t stop. 

And Gavin—

Releasing a soft grunt against your mouth, his tongue sweeps across the seam of your lips, parting them. Slipping inside to test against yours; rough digits fisting themselves into your hair as he crushes your mouths together. As if he too can’t bear the distance, as if he means to pilfer every single breath of yours. “I don’t understand why I...” He repeats, voice riddled with discontent.

You’re too breathless to respond but you understand. You have no easy answers.

His tongue slides hot against your lower lip. Sucking your tongue into his mouth, you moan against him. Restless hands that trail across the sides of your waist, thumbs he presses circles with against sensitive skin; you feel the heat of it even through your shirt. 

Breath catching within your throat at the hesitant brush of fingertips just beneath the curve of your breasts before Gavin seems to think the better of it, withdrawing. You capture his wrist and tug, a mute plea within your gaze. 

Gavin watches; the slow shudder that leaves you at the cup of his hands around your breasts. Observing the curve of parted lips; the bite of teeth into plush flesh when he moves to slip his thumbs over the stiffened peaks and you groan without shame, incredibly sensitive to his touch. 

You watch the bob of his Adam’s apple, slow and steady; heat and desire burn within his gaze at your arousal. 

Beneath, you feel the shape of him; hard and straining against your ass. Grinding your hips on instinct, a hitched sound scrapes free of his throat; open mouth lunging for yours in another consuming kiss. 

What are we doing? 

Warm palms map the shape of your cheeks; Gavin draws back, heat simmering within those eyes you so love. “Do you want to stop?” He whispers softly, as if he reads your mind. You don’t want to.

Hands skittering across his belt, you free him of the confines of his trousers before scrabbling off of his lap and onto your knees. 

“You don’t have to do that—”

“I want to, Gavin. And if you do too…” 

He watches you, silent for a moment. Eyes tracing your features for signs of hesitance or discomfort; your heart aches to know how his kind heart remains. Before Gavin settles a hand atop your head in affirmation and you oblige, all too eager. 

Sinking onto him, you relish the first taste; his cock sliding across your tongue; familiar. Gavin grunts, head tipping back in pleasure as you work your mouth over him. Fingers weaving tighter through your locks, he doesn’t rush you, merely holding firm. 

Slipping your fingers across his thigh to soothe and relax him further into you, you bob your mouth over him in tandem with the low thrusts of his hips into you. 

Tapered digits; hot to the touch, slip through your hair and down the side of your head as he trails them across the back of your neck and you shiver, moaning as he slips deeper down your throat. 

You’re incredibly wet; the moisture of dampened panties dragging torturous across your clit. Pressing your legs together for any degree of relief, you slide your tongue across his length, closing your mouth around as much of him as you can take. 

You’re so turned on; you feel yourself clamp down from how you suck him, his groans of pleasure serving to encourage you. 

Stealing a glance up at him to catch him watching you; a flush steals faint but sure across his cheeks. Gavin curls a fist into your hair, gently tugging. “Come up here.”

You let yourself be dragged, settling back into his lap. Gavin’s fingers trail across the front of your stomach, teasing a moment before they slip past your panties to drag circles across your clit. 

You tremble in response; pressing your face into the side of his neck, the sensation overwhelming enough you almost come. 

Wrapping trembling digits around his cock, you pump him in tandem with the fingers he slips into your pussy without warning. Insistent thumb dragging moisture across your clit. 

Gavin presses in, fingers curling into you deeper. Watching as you shiver in his grasp, mouth parted as if in wonder. The flush of his cheeks enticing, you move to drag your tongue against it.

 Breathing hard as the two of you work to bring the other to completion. 

Your cries mixing with his groans as you release yourself onto his fingers at last, dropping boneless against him. 

Reaching for him in one final kiss; pressing closer as you let thoughts of your temporary relief distract you from the glaring truth. 

Outside, Helios watches as the two kiss; visible from where he stands, even a few feet away. Tossing his empty soda can into the trash, he turns back towards the car. Eyes flashing bright blue — then gold — for a split second underneath the glaring lights overhead. He glances at the photograph of a smiling woman — her — then back at the couple.  

“The Queen and her Knight, huh?” 

Dummy,

For someone who constantly behaves like they’ve got their head in the clouds, you certainly seemed to be aware of exactly what you were doing today.

Being so bold as to barge into my office without an appointment.  Without knocking, even.  Deliberately letting your trench-coat fall open to show me you were wearing the fishnet stockings I had chosen for you...those and nothing else.  Taking advantage of the fact that I was still on the phone to crawl between my legs and tug on my belt. 

You’ve certainly grown bold.

And while I do experience a sense of satisfaction in watching you develop in such a direction, it would serve you well to keep a few things in mind.

One: keep your coat belted tighter next time.  If I find out Goldman got even so much as the tiniest peep, he’s fired.  I don’t think you want that guilt on your shoulders.

Two: that was a particularly nice shade of red on your lips.  The next time you’re on your knees with your mouth wrapped around my cock, I should like to see it again.

Three: you will always allow me to escort you, either back to my home or yours.  Don’t assume that I will be satisfied with just an aperitif.  I can assure you that I grow nothing short of ravenous in your presence.

Four: I will have a few more pairs of stockings delivered to your home, as I suspect the ones you had on today won’t survive the night.  Always make sure to have them on hand as you look particularly exquisite in them.

I’ll pick you up at 8 tonight.  I do believe some punishment is in order.  But who knows, you might even enjoy it, dummy.

Victor

P.S. Don’t think that this will get you an extension on your report.

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Want to know exactly what Victor did to you - his sweet, precious dummy?  Curious to know what was in the letter of confession that Gavin so painstakingly penned for you in high school?  Ever thought about what Lucien would say during moments of loneliness spent overseas, yearning for your touch?  Care to know how poetic Kiro gets when he misses you while on tour?

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No, not nearly skimpy enough, you think as you peer at your companion from behind oversized shades, as if the intensity of your gaze alone could shave a few inches off the length of Lucien’s swimming trunks.  Reaching for your mojito, you try to quench the thirst that had built up from devouring the man with your eyes for the hundredth time.  Who knew that lab coat did the world such a disservice by hiding that body, firm and muscular in all the right places?

Gulp.

Fingers pinching your thigh beneath your sheer cover up, you’re comforted by the sting that tells you this was no dream of the wet variety.  Because here you were, in the midst of sand, surf and sun…with the most gorgeous man on the beach by your side.  You really were here on vacation with Lucien — one whole week to bask in his undivided attention.  What could be more heavenly?

Well, sex would be great, for starters.

You fight to stifle a chuckle because if you didn’t laugh, you’d have to cry.  You’d been dating the professor for some time now, but had yet to consummate your relationship.  It definitely wasn’t due to a lack of effort —  things would always crop up in the most inopportune times: work emergencies right when a hot-and-heavy make-out session was reaching fever pitch, the fire alarm sounding the moment your panties slid down to your ankles.  Gavin practically breaking down your balcony door just as Lucien’s belt came undone.

You were starting to think you were cursed.

But this was the week things were going to change.  You refused to accept otherwise.  And while you had feigned nonchalance when suggesting a trip to this resort to your boyfriend, the true intention was to have zero possible interruptions.  You even splurged on a bikini so tiny it had no business costing as much as it did for something with so little material.

“Do I get to see this photo too, or is it solely for your viewing pleasure?”  Reclined on his lounger, a sly smile graces Lucien’s impossibly handsome face.

Setting down your phone, you make a show of removing your sunglasses before pulling the cover up over your head to unveil your swimsuit for the very first time…slowly…so as not to miss the subtle tuck of Lucien’s lower lip between his teeth at the sight.

Maybe the bikini was worth your electricity bill for the month after all.

“I’ll let you know when you catch me, professor,” you say, rising to make your way towards the ocean, exaggerating the sway of your hips with each step that finds your feet sinking into sand so fine it felt like talcum powder.

A rich baritone chuckle from behind sends a frisson of excitement through your body, radiating from your core to the tips of fingers and toes.  And when you sense the vibration of Lucien’s fast approaching footsteps, you break into a run, laughing as you dash into aquamarine waters.

“Ahh!”  

Letting out a very unladylike shriek to feel strong arms wrap tight about your waist, excitement transforms to arousal when you find yourself pressed chest to chest with your lover.

“Think I’ve caught the catch of the day,” his breath tickles at your lobe when he bends to whisper in your ear, “or perhaps I should say, of a lifetime.”

The sun is high in the sky behind him, but you aren’t entirely sure you weren’t squinting from a radiance all his own: droplets of water running off the tips of smooth black hair, tracing from nose to chin until they kiss that prominent Adam’s apple.  Lucien’s broad shoulders and the firm pecs against which your nipples were rapidly hardening, drawing the professor’s heated gaze to see their peaks become prominent beneath the taut stretch of your bikini.

You loop your arms around his neck, tracing featherlight circles on the nape as you ask, “And what do you intend to do with your prize?”

Choppier waters push your bodies even closer together in embrace.  Lucien’s eyes darken.  The hairs on your body stand on end.

“I’d take what’s rightfully mine…if it pleases her.”

He slips a finger beneath the string of your bikini bottom, drawing circles on your hip in imitation of your own on his neck.  And when his other hand slides down the curve of your spine to tuck into your swimsuit, you gasp to feel him squeeze the supple flesh of your ass.

“Luci—!  What if…someone…sees?”

Question fragmenting into breathless moans, you lose yourself in your lover’s kiss — sudden and forceful like the tongue that pushes into your mouth as if ravenous from sheer need.  The professor is behaving like a man starved, so different from the gentleman you were used to.

And on instinct, your thighs are pressing together beneath the water, warmed by something that had little to do with the heat of the tropical sun.  It was almost ridiculous how easily he could shatter your composure, unraveling you in an instant no matter how much of an upper hand you thought you had.

No, Lucien was always a step ahead.  And if you were honest with yourself, you knew you’d follow him wherever he chose to lead.  Just like now, returning his kiss with a fervour that paid no heed to any and all sets of eyes that might witness the scene.  No one knew you here, after all; there were no reputations to maintain.

Suddenly, a wolf whistle off to the side and a shout of “Yeah baby, get it!" breaks the magic of the moment.  Quickly pulling away from him, your hands fly to readjust your bikini as you spy two men paddling past on surfboards, laughing and leering as they do.

“Are you all right?”  Lucien peers at you, thumbs caressing your reddened cheeks.  You nod, forcing a smile as you lift your head even though all you wanted to do was bury your face in his chest.  Perhaps embarrassment wasn’t so easily shed after all.  But when you finally process the expression on your lover’s face, it distracts you from your own sense of shame:

Lips set in a straight line — firm, like the fine muscles of his jaw.  An intensity in the dark eyes that look towards the men moving into deeper waters, gaze cold and indifferent.  You are so shocked by the change that you barely notice when Lucien moves in front of you, one arm held out protectively to keep you behind him as the other rises in a smooth arc.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, a massive wave appears, defying the laws of physics as it moves as if miraculously contained in a bubble, heading straight for the path of the surfers.  Your heart leaps into your throat to see it crash down upon the pair, only realizing you’d been holding your breath when you sigh in relief to see them surface, shaken but alive as they let out a faint stream of expletives.

“Oh my god!  Did you see that, Lucien?  Do you think they’re okay—”

“They’ll be fine.  The waves are probably just a bit too big for these novices to handle.  But I’ve spotted something interesting over there.  Are you able to swim that far?”

You follow the direction of his finger to where it pointed to a rocky outcrop jutting from the shore a short distance away.  “I think I can manage that.”

“Good.  Follow closely.”  Lucien looks back with a wink before swimming off, and you can’t help but take an extra moment to admire the graceful sight of his body cutting through crystalline waters before following suit.

It was like you had stumbled upon Shangri-La.  

Flanked by rocky cliffs that pretty much guaranteed inaccessibility by foot, you and Lucien take turns swimming through a narrow entrance that opened up onto a sight that takes your breath away: a cove, small but pristine, as if untouched since the primitive days of its formation.

Wading through waters much calmer than those you swam through to get here, you openly admire this hidden pocket of the ocean — a shifting mirror of turquoise reflecting azure skies, glittering like Gaia herself had deigned to scatter diamonds upon its glassy surface.

White sand and air sweet as it carried the scent of flowers in bloom, its crowning glory nonetheless lay in the waterfall at its centre, the rushing cascade the only sound in the tranquil cove, punctuated by the cries of birds as colourful as the flora that grew in this climate.

Heaven on Earth.

“I can’t believe this place even exists, Lucien.  And we have it all to ourselves!”  

You turn to him, face split into a wide smile, and when you see the tenderness on his, it all seems surreal: too dream-like…too perfect.

“Come, let’s get a closer look.”

As if reading your mind, he extends a hand, voice soft and low when those long, tapered fingers intertwine with yours to gently pull you in the direction of the waterfall.  The heat of his touch allays your fears.  This is real.

The confirmation sparks a surge of excitement from deep within and you are a child once more, seeing the world anew with all the wonder of fresh eyes; this time, with the love of your life as your guide.

“Oh, that’s cold!” You exclaim, quickly moving through the waterfall and climbing onto a platform of smooth rock hidden behind the curtain of water.  Lucien follows, looking every inch like a god when he emerges shiny and wet.

He takes one look at you and you’re immediately pulled into his embrace, your back to your lover’s chest.  His breath suffuses warmth onto the nape of your neck, lips brushing soft on skin to electrify every nerve.

You cannot help the moan that escapes, the sigh of contentment that Lucien takes for his own when he bends to kiss you, slow and unhurried this time — tongue tracing corner to corner before moving in to taste, gentle teeth sinking into the flesh of your lower lip.  The faint trace of alcohol on his breath as intoxicating as the man himself.

“Do you want to try this, butterfly?”  His deep voice, husky with lust, vibrates against the column of your neck as the hands on you continue to roam, palm sliding over wet skin just below your navel, dexterous fingertips teasing at the knots of your loosening bikini top.  “Make love inside a waterfall?”

The question might as well have been a command, the beating of your heart so fast and thunderous that for a moment, you are unsure of what is louder in your ears: the water succumbing to gravity’s sway or the blood pulsing in your veins.  Even if this were a dream, you prayed you would never wake.

So you place your hand over his, guiding the professor’s fingers beneath the band of your bikini bottom until they’re nestled against arousal-slicked folds, “I need you in me, Lucien” almost like a prayer when it leaves your lips.

Because it was nothing short of a miracle that you would come together, finally, in paradise.  That when Lucien finally touches you, the intensity of feeling far surpasses anything that delayed gratification alone would’ve accounted for.

And you are reborn in his touch: every kiss of his lips, lick of his tongue…each and every mark fingers and mouth make on flesh leaving you so wonderfully rearranged that you know in your heart of hearts you could belong to no other.

No, you were irrevocably his when you felt him aligned at your entrance, hot and hard against your wetness.  His fingers intertwine with yours, squeezing to bring you even closer when the pressure gives way at last and he is sheathed to the hilt — your breaths mingling in a mixture of moans and gasps so loud they echo every time your hips rolled against one another.

Aware of everything and nothing at once, the thoughts in your mind dissipate like mist off the waterfall, making room solely for the man bent over you, Lucien’s tongue laving wet swathes from your breasts to your neck.  His fingers caress between your legs even as he continues to thrust, thinly calloused tips enticing your clit to swell beneath its hood, your lover growing harder each time you clench around him in response.

“Don’t be shy, butterfly, let it out.  Tell me you love me…I want to hear it.”

Hoisting you into his arms, Lucien wraps your legs about his waist.  His skin is hot and flushed when you dig your nails into those broad shoulders, struggling to remain in place as ecstasy tore through your body to feel him move at an impossible pace, chasing his high as you neared yours each time he hit that spot deep within.

“I, oh god…I…love you, Luci—ah!”

Suddenly boneless as tension explodes, the shockwaves of your release move through you when your lover floods you with his warmth.  And when a soft “I love you too” is deposited upon your lips before they’re consumed once again in a kiss, a moment of greater perfection couldn’t exist.

Because there, all alone in that hidden corner of the world with Lucien, you already had everything you ever needed.

To the person who commissioned this piece:

Chik, in that dress like second skin, sleek and red and leaving little to the imagination.

Chik, who had seen fit to corner Victor the second he descended onto the red carpet, taking advantage of a sea of flashing cameras to slip her arm through his — much to the glee of photographers desperate to dig up something, anything, on the private life of Loveland’s most eligible bachelor.

Which was precisely why you had insisted on arriving to the event alone, in case it was your name splashed over the front pages of media outlets the following morning.  Or in real-time on Twitter and Weibo.

And although a part of you tried to reason that Chik hadn't given your boyfriend so much as breathing room, let alone the chance to look for you as he worked the room, the voice of logic grew fainter with every playful slap of her hand across his muscular bicep.  You had tried and failed to break through the tide of people jostling for the chance to rub elbows with the LFG CEO.  All you could do now was watch him network with Chik standing next to him like a perfect trophy.

A beautiful and charming prize for a handsome and debonair man.

Draining your glass of champagne, you reach for another flute from a passing waiter when you are surprised by long, elegant fingers brushing cool against your hand.  Looking up, a magnetic gaze beneath dark hair ensnares yours, making you forget all about your drink until the man in the perfectly tailored tux plucks it off the tray, leaning close to say,

“You look absolutely stunning.  Let us toast to finding company I actually enjoy tonight.”

Lucien smiles, lifting his glass in a toast as he hands you yours, and by the time the effervescent bubbles tickle the back of your throat, you remember your manners.

“Congratulations Professor.  There’s been a huge turnout for this charity event.  You must be pleased by the influx of funds to your research institute."

He steps closer, the heat rolling off his body mirroring the temperature of your alcohol-flushed cheeks.

“Please, just Lucien.  And thank you.  I’m very grateful for the LFG CEO's generosity in aiding the fundraising efforts of the institute.  All the same, I can't say I’m not disappointed to find he’s been a less than gracious host to the most important person here tonight.”

Lucien bends to peer into your face, the expression of gentle admonishment on his filled with meaning.  And while you're taken aback by how perceptive he is, the painful throbbing in your chest makes it hard to focus on anything but the fact that the woman by Victor’s side wasn’t you.

You laugh but it is hollow.  And as the music in the room swells, you hope it drowns out the sound, smothers the pathetic thoughts of self-pity running through your head.  

All of a sudden, Lucien’s hand is on your lower back — touch warm through black satin like his breath on your ear when he whispers the words that make you feel like Cinderella at the ball:

“What do you say to teaching him a lesson?”

“I should warn you Lucien, I’m not a very good dancer.”

“You’ll be perfect.  Just follow my lead.  Besides, I’m willing to bet that technique will be the last thing Victor Li pays attention to."

He slides an arm around your waist, then all at once, you’re pulled into an embrace so tight all you see is Lucien’s lips, soft and plush.  Suppressing a gasp, you quickly train your eyes over his shoulder…

…to notice that Victor has finally noticed you.

And the awareness makes you brave.

Across the crowded hall, a hand balls into a fist so tight knuckles turn white, Victor's unyielding gaze taking in the sight of you dancing with the man every woman in the room would willingly drop their panties for.

And Victor knows that you know — having made deliberate eye contact and even smiling when you tip-toed in those stilettos he loved to see you wear just to whisper in Lucien's ear.  A well-timed joke perhaps, judging by the way you threw your head back, extending that graceful neck in the same way you did when contorting in ecstasy beneath his body.

Laughing freely with a man who wasn’t him.

And as the CEO fights to remain composed, carrying on increasingly stilted conversations with potential business partners while fending off Chik’s advances, every additional transgression adds tinder to a dangerous spark:

The crimson dusting your cheeks as you swayed against Lucien’s body.

The intimate drape of your arms around his neck.

The bite of your lip when the professor’s brushes against the lobe of your ear.

Enough was enough.

“Excuse me.”  Escaping Chik’s grasp and caring not for the bewildered expressions of middle-aged sycophants, Victor puts an abrupt end to all conversation, ploughing through the crowd until his tall stature casts a shadow over you and Lucien on the dance floor.

“Mind if I cut in?”  His voice is lower than you’ve ever heard before, and beneath a thin veneer of civility, his barely contained anger is palpable...sending a rush of moisture between your legs.

Feigning surprise, your partner in crime looks from you to Victor.  “By all means.  It is your party after all, Mr. Li.”  Lucien gives you a covert wink before you’re swept up in Victor’s arms, the exchange so quick you don’t even see the professor make his exit.

But by then, all you could focus on was the press of Victor's hard pecs against your chest and the assertive grind of his pelvis on yours, subtle yet firm.

“You’ve got some nerve.”  The tension in his voice pulls taut at the pit of your stomach, and as his hand presses more insistently at your lower back, you've never been more excited in your life.

“Where’s the gorgeous celebrity accompanying you tonight?  Aren’t you afraid people will talk if they see you dancing with a nobody like me?”  Your words were hard even as the heat of his body softened your resistance.

“I don’t give a fuck about what other people think and care even less for any woman who isn't you, let alone those who throw themselves at me.  My sole concern at the moment is erasing all traces of that man from your body…”  

You could count the number of times Victor swore in your presence on one hand, the profanity lending him an even greater air of intimidation to make you press your thighs together, suddenly desperate to feel him deep.

“…the body that belongs to me.”

Desperate to feel him rough.

Gathering the last shreds of self-control, you make a final attempt to hold your ground: "I belong to no one but myself."

And when Victor’s eyes, dark and penetrating, sweep from head to toe and back again to rest hungry on the heave of your breasts beneath your dress, you are already enslaved by the challenge in his tone as he says,

“We shall see about that.”

“This is a nice look for you.  Now open wider and show me that tongue-ah...that's my talented girl."

The tiles were hard beneath your knees despite the cushion of Victor's tuxedo jacket, but you were too consumed by the stretch of your mouth around his cock to care, your lipstick smeared in that sex drunk way your lover adored.

And though you would never admit it, you loved to please him.  Lived for the moans issuing from deep within his chest every time that smooth head nudged the back of your throat, a challenge to see how much of his thick cock you could swallow this time.  Felt a sense of accomplishment when his long fingers threaded through perfectly done hair, curling tight to hold your head in place as his hips bucked ever so slightly.

And when he begins to twitch — throbbing on your tongue like your clit beneath soaked satin as your fingers rubbed fast circles, you know he is close.  So you pull back, smiling to hear a muffled groan when you press a kiss to that shiny tip and rise up off your knees.

The show was far from over; you still had a score to settle.

There, in that empty men’s room a floor above the ongoing ball, Victor had spirited you away from the festivities, intent on teaching his little dummy a lesson when he locked the door behind him.  

What he didn’t know was that you had plans of your own: to show him the consequences of inciting your jealousy.

So you back up against the marble countertop, fingers sliding down your thighs until they reach the hem of your dress to pull up in a slow, sensual reveal.  And when Victor’s breath hitches at the sight of the damp mess between your legs, you smile to have him right where you want him.

Reaching up, you caress the soft strands of his thick hair once…twice...before gripping hard to pull him down until his nose is level with the lace blooms of your panties, the command in your tone unmistakeable when you say,

“Eat.”

Victor looked good on his knees, dark eyes indignant as they held yours from below, issuing challenge even when the toe of your stiletto prodded against his shoulder, seeing how far you could take this game.

Then…you see it.

Tension settling firm along the line of his handsome jaw.  A flash of something wild in dark pupils and you know you've waded too far into deep waters but it was too late to turn back.  Secretly, however, you wished to explore, wanted to know just how feral Victor Li could become when consumed with jealousy and unbridled by lust.

Suddenly, your world tilts, a gasp escaping your lips as you fall back against the mirror, the grip of Victor's hand strong on your hip as the other rips your thong away with a single, savage pull.  And as you prop yourself up on elbows, his breath is already tracing up your inner thigh — ragged and searing, a stark contrast with the cool marble beneath your bare ass.

You didn’t know what you expected.  Victor had always been a slow, steady lover, taking pleasure in patient seduction and unhurried love-making.  But the man before you now was unrecognizable, burying his face in your folds like he’d been starved his whole life: lips and tongue licking, kissing, sucking and probing until your legs shook, hooked over his broad shoulders.

And when he catches your eye with that piercing gaze, cheeks and chin shiny with his spit and your arousal, the pounding in your chest grows increasingly harried at the sight of Victor sucking his middle finger before it slips inside you, reaching deep.

Eyes closing under the weight of ecstasy to feel another finger join the first as your lover continued tasting you, the wet sounds of arousal echoed off tiled walls to further stimulate your senses until you came hard on Victor’s face — his hand shooting out to cover your mouth before the noise gave you away.

Legs unsteady when he places your stilettoed feet on the ground, Victor spins you around to position your palms on the countertop.  Relishing in the tremble still spreading through your body, he runs a hand up your spine, curving around the slope of the shoulder to lightly grip your throat before tilting up the chin, drawing your attention to the reflection in the backlit mirror.

“Look at you.  Always so beautiful…but especially when you’re wrecked like this for me.”  

Smeared lipstick.  Smudged mascara.  Hair disheveled and breasts practically spilling from your dress.  The diamond necklace Victor had surprised you with on your third date lying next to crimson marks in the shape of his teeth.

And then there was the CEO; bending over you with tousled hair.  Bow tie undone and slung around his neck.  Dress shirt opened just enough to reveal the scratch of your nails down his chest.  And when the reflection in the mirror begins unbuttoning its pants, Victor’s next words have you transfixed:

“Keep watching.  You’ll learn I’m the only one who can love you like this.”  

So you did.  Obediently kept your gaze on the glass as you sucked on Victor’s thumb, occupying your mouth in a bid to keep quiet even as the slam of his hips against your backside had ecstatic tears spilling from the corners of your eyes.

But the moans still leaked like your arousal, dislodged with every slippery slide of Victor’s hard cock to run down the inside of your thighs.  And with each instance of weakness, the unrelenting CEO delivered a particularly forceful thrust and slap to the ass, the sting uniquely satisfying as it bloomed into warmth on your flesh.

None so satisfying, however, as the image of Victor’s handsome face in the mirror, expressions of euphoria wiped away as quickly as they came, your lover stubbornly trying to cling to some flimsy semblance of control.

So you decide to show him exactly how futile his efforts would be, clenching hard and delighting in the groan that issues from his lips as his rhythm falters before picking up again, even harder and faster than before.  And when he finally releases hot and deep within you, the shudder of Victor’s chest against your back is sweet as he bends to kiss the nape of your neck, “I love you” spilling soft across your cheek as his fingers interlace with yours.

“Viiiccctttoorrr!!  So that’s where you’ve been!  I’ve been looking all over-”

The actress stops short to see you and your lover emerge from the men’s room.  And although the pair of you had tried to make yourselves as presentable as possible, it was obvious what you and Victor had been up to.

“Oh, Chik.  Perfect timing.  This is the girlfriend I was talking to you about the entire evening.  Allow me to introduce you to the woman I’m planning to marry.”

Your eyes grew wide, but not as wide as Chik’s when you sheepishly extended your hand.  And although a part of you felt bad for the starlet’s humiliation, you couldn’t deny the way you swelled with pride at Victor’s words — a clear and concise declaration of his love and commitment to you.

Perhaps a bit of jealousy wasn’t so bad after all.  

“Wait, you said yourself that it’s just a game.  Why are you getting so worked up over the characters’ wardrobe choices?”

“This game — Mr Passion: Who Will You Choose or whatever it’s called — is a massive waste of time and brain cells.  You should find better ways to spend your day off.”

You laugh, incredulous.  “Excuse me, Mr Li, but could you please refrain from telling me how to live my life?  Besides, no one is forcing you to stay with me.  Don’t you have to work today?”  

Victor shifts on your couch, looking entirely out of place in your mess of an apartment in his immaculate suit.  Clearing his throat, he schools his expression into something unreadable.

“Unlike someone who works at the pace of a snail, I already completed everything—”

A cellphone rings to interrupt him, muted through the pocket of Victor's blazer draped over the armrest at his side.

“You gonna get that?”  You ask after the fourth ring.

“It’s not important.  Continue.”

Raising your brows, you turn your attention back to your smartphone, trying not to think about how strangely Victor was behaving; skipping off work and showing up at your apartment unannounced with pudding from Souvenir - leaving you with neither the option to protest nor the opportunity to make your home semi-presentable.  The way he looked at you like one would a child when you informed him you’d be spending the day playing a game, yet listening with rapt attention during your explanation of the rules.

No matter.  You would keep your focus on the game.

Not, for instance, on how close Victor was; how the woodsy notes of his cologne mixed with skin to form a scent so uniquely him — one that never failed to send a rush of pleasure down your spine.  You would refrain from letting his breath distract you, warm on the shell of your ear as he looked over your shoulder at the phone.  Regardless of how soothing it felt.

Then suddenly, your screen darkens, ‘Goldman, Executive Assistant to the LFG Bitch’ scrolling in large font to interrupt your game.  Hearing a sharp intake of breath, you don’t have to look behind you to feel the dark cloud of displeasure at your back.

Before you could conjure up some excuse for his nickname, however, Victor snatches the device from your hands, finger swiping impatiently and followed up by an equally impatient voice:

“I said no calls today, Goldman.  I don’t care if it’s Bezos.  And tell Zuckerberg for the last time that it's going to be a hard 'no' for me."

Hanging up, Victor’s cool eyes study you as he hands back your cell.  "Am I being referred to as the ‘LFG bitch' now?"

“You tell me, Victor Li.  Do you know anyone else who would answer someone else's phone like that?  And for the record, I am capable of taking my own calls.”

“Hmph.  Trust me, Goldman wasn’t calling to speak to you.  And you certainly think very highly of yourself for someone who can't even choose the right virtual man.”

It drains every reserve of patience you have not to wrap your hands around that thick neck and squeeze.

“Fine.  And who would you have chosen?”

“No contest.  Viktor.”

“Viktor?!  Mister unpleasant personified?  Why?  Because he’s a CEO?”

“He’s smart, serious and efficient.  Says what he means and means what he says.  The man also has good taste in clothing, although the same can't be said about his judgement when it comes to women.  The main character can’t even cross the street without almost getting hit by a car, for god’s sake.”

“Ok, well, when it’s your turn, you can romance Viktor all you want.  Now can I finally go on my date with Gaven?”

Rolling your eyes, you tap on the screen as if the game couldn’t load fast enough, but your frustration soon melts away as you become immersed in the story — forgetting that your boss is still sitting next to you and very, very close.

So close, in fact, that he could observe the tiniest details on your person — each and every one tugging up the corners of his lips in a secret smile:

The wisps of hair falling out of your top-knot, soft against the skin of your neck.

Unfettered expressions animating your face as you played; a refreshingly open book he never tired of reading.

One nail slightly shorter than the rest on the hand you brought up to frame your face on habit - the same one you had broken in his office a few days earlier.

And if you had turned at just that moment, you would’ve seen a stranger - tenderness suffusing the features of that handsome face to transform Victor Li into another man entirely…

One completely absorbed in committing everything about you to memory.

“What?!  That’s the end of the date?  At least kiss me, Gaven!  Way to leave someone with blue ovaries."  Tossing your phone aside in a huff, you suddenly jump at the sound of a throat clearing by your ear — a rude reminder that you weren’t alone.  “Oh shit, you weren’t supposed to hear that.  You weren’t supposed to hear the ‘shit’ part either.”

Bleeding internally from embarrassment, it crosses your mind for the umpteenth time that it was a phenomenally bad idea to spend your day off with Victor.  No doubt, the first impression you had left on the CEO was less than positive.  And it seemed that every encounter since only served to highlight yet another insecurity, another way by which Victor Li is so out of your league:

That imperious man who nitpicked everything you did, but also showed you the value of learning through trial by fire.

The exacting CEO who expected nothing short of perfection because he, too, offered nothing less.  

The man who, beneath words like bitter pills, actually had his moments of sweetness.

Victor Li is out of your reach, and the truth stung because in spite of it all...

You are madly in love with him.

“Blue ovaries?  Are you implying that…” Pulling you from your thoughts, Victor's deep voice trails off as his eyes drop to the hands on your lap, already bunching your skirt in nervous fistfuls.  And before you can completely disintegrate in the flames of mortification, you spring from the couch, mumbling some lame excuse about needing the bathroom so you could hit your head against the wall in private.

At least, that’s what you would’ve done had you not been undone by your untidy ways, foot slipping on the cover of a glossy magazine left lying on the floor to send you flying face first towards the rug.

It all happened so quickly.

Your teeth never got the chance to introduce themselves to shaggy fibres, and instead of lying sprawled out on the ground, you found your legs spread wide, straddling a man who still had an iron grip on your arm from saving you from an impromptu face plant.

And inappropriate though it was, you couldn’t help but enjoy the firmness of Victor’s thick thighs beneath your ass, suddenly picturing your boss in nothing but the tiniest Speedo, beads of water cascading down an insanely muscled torso as he pushed himself up over the ledge of a pool — the image undoubtedly sparked by your recollection of the swimming trophies you saw displayed in his home that one time you delivered a report after hours.

“Oh, god.  I’m so sorry.”  The words leave your mouth, but it isn't lost on either of you that neither person is making an effort to move.

Perhaps it was the black lace between your legs, clearly visible now that your skirt was practically hiked up to the waist.  Or maybe it was the grind of your hips, weight shifting side to side on his lap as you tried to keep balanced.  Whatever it was, Victor Li knew he couldn’t let this opportunity slide.  

Not when he had been holding back for so long.

And at the back of his mind, the CEO knew how it would look if he finally acted on his feelings — the ones he’d kept suppressed since the day you accosted him at his office.  Society on the whole was unkind to women, and he did not want to give anyone fodder to insinuate that your company had earned its funding from LFG by any means other than your own hard work and dedication.

Most certainly not by fucking the boss.

Crossing this line now could set off a chain reaction of consequences, ones that Victor had spent many sleepless nights considering, trying to balance the scales between desire and what he felt was in your best interests.

But the look on your face left his mind a blank slate, unable to think of anything but the overwhelming urge to taste your lips.  And with your ass sinking so nicely into his lap, the CEO couldn’t help but wonder how the rest of your body would feel: on top, beneath, and surrounding him.

“I…I should probably...get off.”  Struggling to move sluggish limbs, you hesitate to tear your gaze away from Victor's jet black eyes, their intensity holding you in place as if time itself had stopped.

Then, you feel it: Victor’s grip on your arm tightening again in a bid to get you to stay.  The signal you had been waiting so patiently for, but now that it had arrived, you scarcely dared to believe was real.

“Not yet,” he whispers, breath warm against your lips to make them part in kind, immediately drawing Victor’s gaze to the pink sweep of your tongue from corner to corner.  “Did you hurt yourself?”

You don’t know how you did it.  Didn’t even know where that blind courage came from, possessing you in a fit of lust-induced insanity to nod in response to Victor’s question, finger tracing down your body until it pointed to the space between your legs.  

“I’m a bit sore here.  Could you check to see if it’s okay?”

The CEO inhales sharply for the second time that day, broad chest lifting to strain against his fitted dress shirt as his eyes widen almost imperceptibly - cracks starting to form in that poker face to hear you raise the stakes.  

“Then you’d better make it wet for me.”  Victor places a finger on your lips, tip tracing back and forth along the seam before slipping past to caress your tongue.  And when you pucker to suck, the low groan that escapes him makes you clench.

Precariously balanced with your hands on his knees behind you, the spread of your legs widens to meet Victor's touch - long fingers gliding over the lace of your panties, slowing to linger on areas that were particularly moist.

“Nothing seems out of the ordinary here.  Are you feeling any better?”  Voice growing increasingly raspy, the CEO bites his lip to see you shake your head, cheeks already flushed crimson.  “No?  Then I’m afraid we’ll have to look a bit deeper.”

You whimper to feel your underwear pulled aside, the air of the room cool against bare skin as Victor takes his time admiring the sight: the afternoon sun bathing you in a warm glow to highlight the slickness of pink folds like tulips glistening with morning dew.

Just when you are about to go insane from anticipation, Victor finally touches you — index running from the hood of your clit down to the base of your entrance and back again, over and over.  Licentious and needy, you could scarcely believe the moans that were issuing from your mouth.  But at the moment, you didn’t care, too caught up in the way the CEO’s talented fingers made you feel.

“How about now?”  Fingertips beginning to draw circles about your swollen clit at a maddeningly slow frequency, Victor keeps you suspended in a state of heightened arousal — a touch shy of release, but much too high to come down.  Satisfied to have you exactly where he wanted you.

“Hmm…it…it still hurts,” you piece the words together between pants, and when he responds by sliding first one, then two fingers deep into your pussy, your head falls back in ecstasy.  Victor quickly throws an arm around your waist to keep you anchored on his lap even as his other hand continued to stroke — intent on coaxing every last drop of arousal from your body to join the pool already staining his pristine dress pants.

“Seems like you’ve always been a glutton for both pudding and pleasure,” Victor’s chuckle is dark in your ear to send another rush of fluid between your legs.  And you are powerless to even refute his statement when he presses the pad of his thumb to your clit, broad palm rubbing against your core even as his fingers continued to fuck you.

Then finally, the tension snaps — convulsions passing through your body in waves as the arm around you tightens to bring you close enough for a kiss.  And with his fingers still buried in you, savouring the flex of your warm, wet walls, Victor slips his tongue past your lips, kissing you with the same fervour as the hands you had tangled in his thick, black hair, leaving it wonderfully disheveled.

“Are you still sore?” Victor asks, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Not anymore.  Quite comfortable, actually.”

The CEO drops a kiss on your forehead before leaning back to reach for his belt.  And as the buckle above the massive bulge in his pants comes undone, you bite your lip, readying yourself for round two when he says,

“Good.  Because Viktor just entered the game.”

Nb. **A Canadian tuxedo is denim on denim (e.g. denim jacket with jeans)