#obvitxt

"Before I leave, Kitten," Sylus leans down, his lips just shy of your forehead.

You're practically preening in his attention these last few days. You know it's mostly because he's about to leave for a few days on one of his deals, going to some unknown country to meet with some unknown dignitary or billion dollar tech bros who are interested in arms dealing. You still adore it, though. You're soaking it in as much as you can knowing there are long nights ahead of you. Ones where you barely even hear from him.

"Yesss?" you practically purr, waiting for his lips to touch your skin. He's hovering by your door, one hand on the knob to exit. The twins are waiting below, car packed with all of the essentials.

"Don't touch yourself while I'm gone," he instructs, his lips pressing to your head firmly but quickly as you take in his words.

"What?" you yell as he starts to slide out of the door.

He cocks a smile, those red eyes gleaming as you're about to throw the worst tempter tantrum. "No. Touching. Yourself," that wicked glint gets even more sharp, "Not until I get back."

"But Sylus," you groan.

He winks, dipping behind the door and letting it click shut. The sound is like a nail in your coffin. A last gong of the bell. You're going to die. This is surely the end?

Early morning bleeds into the afternoon easily enough. Work is busy, the wanderer's don't wait for you to have a break or time off. They simply cause chaos and destruction, killing those who they can get close to.

Writing up reports is about as dry as it can get with everyone around you teasing and joking around. The central hub for the hunters is always lively anytime of the day. There's Tara and Jenna to distract you. Hot coffee, cool water, pens scraping, keyboard clacking, the blinding lights of the overhead office.

It's when you get home that's really the problem. When you're alone, and there's a new bottle of wine Sylus had delivered to your door as a reminder that he loves you- as well as with a note that simply says: Remember. Hands off.

He doesn't mean the wine.

You: Do you really think I'd fail that easily?

Sylus: One just had to be sure. A reminder, if nothing else.

You: It seems you think I have no control.

Sylus: If I thought that you had no control I would have never given you the challenge, Kitten.

You: How long are you going to be gone for?

Sylus: Counting down the days until I come back, or that you're free to pleasure yourself again?

You: Can't it be both?

Sylus: No.

You throw your phone down, pressing your hands into your face. One glass is all it took for you to feel it's effects. It's pleasant. Your whole body feels warm in all the right places. Bantering with Sylus always gets you in the right mood.

He couldn't know if you did it one time, right? Surely not?

You head for your bedroom, biting your lip, another full glass of that wine in hand. Knowing he's given you the command not to makes it all the more dangerous, like you're on some mission and it's getting to the most critical spot.

You lay down on the bed, pulling up those pictures Sylus had sent you to keep you over on the last business trip he had went on. There was one particularly good one of him in the gym, hand placed on the outline of his athletic pants as he's flushed and sweating, abs glistening in that million dollar facility he keeps at his base.

Ring, ring, ring.

Incoming Call: Sylus

"Hello?" the picture is quickly replaced with Sylus's contact photo, one from early on in your days together that you just couldn't get over of him cleaning his gun and looking up at you. The lighting made him seem angelic at the time.

"What are you doing?" he asks, voice low.

"I was- uh-" you're scrambling, the wine making you slow to respond. You figured he would have been busy for at least the next few hours.

"You're just what?" You can hear the smirk in his tone, the knowledge that he's got you.

"Just doing some work," you lie, flipping over onto your stomach.

"Show me."

Incoming Face Time: Sylus

Fuckfuckfuckfuck.

You answer, knowing that you're in a pair of lingerie that he had gotten you just the week before. Red with black lace trim, nipples barely concealed. Straps in places where there really shouldn't be any- but fuck if you didn't like how you looked in it. You were using it to remember how Sylus had nearly torn it off of you in the dressing room when you had shown it to him at the store.

Can't blame a girl for setting the mood.

"If that's your normal after work outfit to finish up papers I might come over more often to help," he comments.

He's clearly in some kind of hotel room, the lush creme colored headboard inlaid with dark metal accents. He's propped up against a million pillows by the looks of it. As comfortable as can be.

"Shouldn't you be, I donno, wrestling with some goons right now?"

"I don't see any goons here."

"Henchmen then. The things that go bump in the night."

"I think the only thing trying to go bump in the night is you, Kitten. Tell me what you were getting into?"

You roll your eyes. "Nothing."

"If you roll your eyes at me you know what I'm going to have to do when I get back," the warning is said with deep amusement. A particular flavor of smack and sting that you've often courted your way into. You practically moan just thinking about it now.

"I'm sorry," you pout, voice low as you glare at the screen.

"Now tell me what you were doing. Don't make me ask again."

"I was going to pull up your gym picture and look at it."

Sylus is getting up, dark robe opening slightly from the movement. He's heading toward something you can't see.

"Is that all? Did you just miss me that much?" He's placing the phone somewhere up high, the angle catching most of his body. He's almost completely covered by that silk robe, clearly having just stepped out of the shower with damp tendrils of hair clinging to his face. The rest of the room is much like the bed: soft colors accented with the dark metal fixings.

"Not exactly," you don't want to admit it, but you know he's going to make you. He cocks an eyebrow. "Ok, ok fine. I was going to have some fun. With myself. Using your picture."

"Tsk," he clicks his tongue, a hand going to the knot in his robe. "I told you not to do that until I was back. How far did you get, exactly?"

"Not very. I had only just pulled up the picture. Nothing else." You're staring at him, tracking each movement as he's undoing the knot of his robe.

He's not wearing anything under it. It falls to the ground, and the camera shows you almost everything. He's hard, fully erect. His hand goes down to tug at his shaft, tufts of white pubic hair as damp as the rest of him.

"Tell me more. What would you have done if I hadn't called?"

"Sylus," you sit up, feeling that pulsing between your legs instantly. "This isn't fair."

"How else am I supposed to punish you when I'm so far away?" he's purring, self satisfaction as thick as his hand as he's lazily stroking himself.

"Sylus," you whine, rubbing your thighs together.

"Tell me what you would have done, and stand up for me. I want to see everything since you put on that outfit just for me."

You're chewing on your cheek as you toss the covers aside. "I was going to use the picture and think about your hard cock going inside me just like when you bought me this." You place the phone on your dresser and slowly twirl for emphasis.

You can hear Sylus's groan as you do, the hard tug he gives himself as you stand back around.

"You were going to think about how I took you in that dressing room of the boutique, where the salesperson could hear as I fucked you?"

You grip the top of the dresser, giving Sylus a full view of your chest. Your nipples are peaked enough that he can see how turned on you are through the useless strap of fabric. His hips are bucking with each stoke, those wine dark eyes half lidded as he looks at you and licks his lips.

"That's exactly what I was thinking of. You fill me up so good. I can't go without thinking about it, trying to remember it when you're gone."

He chuckles, "Is that so? Just can't stop thinking about my cock? Can't live without it buried deep inside you every night?"

"I need you to fuck me. If not in person then at least in my head," you're whining, the wine mixing with the visual of Sylus thrusting into his hand making you flushed and oh so horny. If there was a time you could cum just from watching someone and nothing else this would be that time.

Sylus stutters, his hand gripping tighter against his cock as he cums. You can see the hot ribbons of it shooting out onto something off screen. He's panting, having worked himself through his orgasm.

"Thank you, Kitten. That's just what I needed. Now, go to sleep. Don't touch yourself. I'll know if you do."

"What?" You're incredulous, so shocked you're hardly even turned on anymore.

Sylus blows a kiss to the screen then ends the call.

Sylus: Goodnight.

You: Fuck you.

***

The next day isn't any better. You're practically a mewling idiot as he sends you picture after picture of himself throughout the day, but the angles are all suggestive. In one of them it looks like you're about to suck him off from under his desk as he just barely licks his lips while looking down at where you should be.

The other you can practically feel yourself under him as he pounds into you from above, sweat dripping down from his face onto yours after you both finish with a hard workout. He's having you right there on the mat of the boxing ring, a reward for besting him.

Of all the times he decides to make a hard rule for his trips it's now? And he want's to play theses games?

You: Stop before I run off the road. I'm trying to focus.

Sylus: I'm just doing my best to keep you company.

You: This is actually just cruelty. You're going to get arrested for abuse.

Sylus: As long as you're the one putting me in cuffs I'll turn myself in.

You groan, tossing your phone onto the desk.

"What's wrong with you?" Tara asks, poking you in the shoulder.

"I'm just tired. It's been a long day."

"I'll say. You've been really grumpy. Do you want to go get some ice cream?" she offers, knowing that this is usually the thing to perk you up when it's that time of the month. Which is probably what's she's assuming is wrong with you, judging by how you've been all over the place today.

"Yes, please!"

Ding.

New Video from: Sylus.

You were just standing up, just about to walk out the door, just about to finally take your mind off of him for a second. This is a trap. You could not answer it. You don't have to look. Sylus knows that you're just as busy as he is. Just as on the go.

"Go on ahead of me. I'll be right behind you," you tell Tara as you unlock your phone.

You have to look.

It's Sylus, in his car as someone else is driving him around. Likely one of the twins. He's wearing his black button up with his guns holstered to his sides. There's no audio, but you can see what's going on easily enough.

He's giving someone else orders as he's unzipping his pants, pulling his half hard cock out. He's rubbing himself, looking from the camera to whoever is driving and back. You can't make out what he's saying to the driver, but when he's looking at the camera you know he's saying your name. You would know those lip movements anywhere. He's said it to you often enough, like a prayer for his salvation, a man dying of thirst and you're the only drop of water around for miles.

Over, and over, and over, and over.

The audio denial has you dripping. You want to hear him. Need to know his sounds, what he's saying in exactly the way he's saying it. You need to hear him.

He's increasing his pace, clearly trying to beat something. Maybe their arrival to some unknown destination. Would he be jerking himself off while enroute to his deal? Or is he on his way back to the airport? For all the pictures he's sent you, you still have no idea where he is or how far along in his timeline he is.

Sylus is suddenly tossing his head back against the seat, his cum in spilling off camera again as he's- probably- groaning from his climax. Can the other people in the car hear him? Is he alone in the backseat? Can they see him?

You: Why.

Sylus: Did you not like it?

You: When I die from not being able to touch myself I hope you will visit my grave.

Sylus: I've never hard of anyone dying from that.

You: There's always a first. Do you think they'll name the new ailment after you?

Sylus: One can hope. Did you like it?

You: Please come home quickly so I can show you how much I liked it.

Sylus: Always.

You don't go out with Tara. Instead, you head home and watch the blandest documentary on T.V. that you can find.

***

You're awoken too early in the morning to someone knocking on your door. It's your only day off, and you had been hoping to sleep in. The sun is barely even up, and the bed is overly comfortable.

"I'm coming, stop knocking!" you yell. It's going to be a bad day of you trying desperately to find ways to distract yourself from Sylus and what you can't do. It's miserable. You're rubbing at your eye when you wrench the heavy door open. "If you're delivering something it's supposed to go-"

"What a greeting. I even rushed back for you." Sylus stands there, leather jacket and motorcycle helmet grasped in one hand, a large bouquet of roses held in the other.

You grind your teeth as you pull him into the room. "You couldn't have announced yourself in a nicer way?" you chastise him, giddiness overtaking you already at him being back so quickly. The best kind of surprise you could have ever expected.

You push him to the couch, taking the roses and tossing them unceremoniously onto the love seat next to you. Sylus is stumbling a bit over his feet as he's forced to march backwards. He's grinning.

"I thought you'd be happy to see me so soon."

You push him down onto the couch. He lands heavily as you climb on top of him, straddling his legs. You're smashing your lips onto his, grinding down onto his lap. He's trying to say something, chuckling all the while, but you ignore it.

You're happy to see him, sure- yeah, but after all that teasing you're ready for a greeting the correct way.

Already you're dripping, your mind carding through all the different scenes he's set up. His hands go to your hips, surrendering his mouth to your tongue. He helps you grinds down on him harder, his cock growing through his pants.

You're barely thinking as you undo his buckle and unzip his pants. He's letting it all happen, intensely smug. In seconds you're pushing him inside your pussy, rocking your hips against him. It feels so good, perfect. Better than it's felt in a while- and it's always felt good.

You're rocking your hips hard and quick, the angle just perfect- or maybe it's your desperation from 48 hours to have him, to feel him, to get him inside you.

"Sylus," you're already groaning, tossing your head back as you grip the back of the couch for better leverage.

"Use me, Kitten. That's right, fuck yourself. I'm your toy," he's cooing around his own moans, his hands rocking your hips harder and harder.

Using his nose he pops one of your breasts out from your slip, his hot wet mouth lapping at your nipple. It's the grazing of his teeth that has your stomach bunching, that feeling collecting so intensely at your core.

He helps rock you a few more times, those callouses rough though the silk fabric. You're cumming all over him, more a mess than you've felt in a long time as it rocks through you in wave after wave of pleasure. He helps you ride him through it, keeping you going when your brain stops functioning.

"You feel better now, Kitten?" he asks when you finally look at him. That dark and twisted twinkle in his eyes as alive as ever. He knows he's won. You know that this is the reaction he was looking for.

"There is no part of you that I do not love," Sylus is caressing your neck, gently shifting your hair off of your shoulder and exposing your back.

You hadn't expected him to take this turn when you told him how bad you felt in this dress. A floor length silky gown, slit up the side, deep carved v in the back.

Sylus runs his hands along your exposed spine, sending soft shivers shooting all long your body with each caress. He's wearing a tux, red bow tie and accents matching to the exact shade of your dress. Black and red, his favorite combination.

"I love all of you, and if you need me to list them out every day then I will." His hands are moving around to your sides, the heat of them pressing in and through the fabric.

He's stood you in front of a mirror, his eyes tracking every movement you make, each soft reaction that is typically hidden from his view. He wants to see it all.

"Should we start with your hands?" he asks, holding them up as he intertwines his fingers with yours. He's holding them out in front of you, the mirror your guide for which parts he's looking at as he goes through. He ticks off each of your fingers, as if listing all the reasons in his head why he likes them until he can settle on one.

"You do so much with them, they give out love and affection. Protecting the people, protecting me, while still being kind enough to dole out reassurances when needed."

He's moving up your arms now, rubbing them as he makes his way back to your shoulders.

"You're arms help carry the weight of others while still maintaining your own independence. They also give excellent hugs."

You're smiling now, unable to keep your composure together as Sylus is taking this so seriously.

"You don't have to keep going, Sylus. I feel better already."

"Oh no, my sweet. I cannot have anyone, even you, being mean to the one I hold most dear. As I was saying," he's massaging your shoulders now, nosing your neck as he breathes in your scent. "You're shoulders are strong. You carry more than you let others think as you go about the world."

His lips are at the shell of your ear, his voice dropping low and sensual.

"Your neck, your face, eyes, lips, nose- all of it crafted just for me, to see who I am and love me anyways. To take all that I am in and appreciate it. To love, and be loved, by and for me."

His hands are moving again, trailing down, down, down, until they're resting on your hips. You're blushing now, heat rising as you're starting to squirm under his ministrations.

"Your hips to vex me as you walk away, and too far ahead sometimes. To give me someone to trail after. Someone who I strive to make proud, and someone for me to admire as she stands in the spotlight."

His hands squeeze your hips, making you feel breathless and needy as he nips at your ear. You're grabbing his hands, pulling them through the sides of the dress, leading him to cup your breasts.

"What about these?" you ask him, voice matching his own low tones, deep with a different meaning.

"Hmm," Sylus sings, a wicked lilt coming on. "For these," he squeezes your breasts for emphasis, fingers showing through the fabric and in the mirror. "I love to watch them as they bounce, with you ride my cock late in the night."

His hand goes down between your legs, searching for where your thong should be. His fingers dip right into you, feeling how wet and needy you are just from his light touches and words.

He's rolling a nipple between his fingers, fucking you achingly slow. Glowing red eyes and a feral smile greet you in the mirror as he licks his lips.

"Don't look away, Kitten. I'm going to show you my most favorite expression that you make."

All too slowly he keeps going, teasing you as you begin to mewl and shift. You're trying to get more friction, more sensation from his hand against your clit.

Sylus pinches your nipple hard enough to make you yelp. "Now, now. Don't rush me. It takes time to get there if we want to do it right."

"We're going to be late," you pant out, eyes half lidded as you look ravished already.

"The party begins when we get there, not before."

He continues to take his time working you up, his long fingers reaching that sweet spot inside of you as he circles your peaked bud. It's not long- but also too long- before he's letting you ride his hand. He's watching from the mirror, soaking up each faint sound, eye twitch, the way your neck looks as you start to arch your back.

"This is what I love about you. How expressive you are. I could stare at this mirror all day taking every inch of you in and never get bored. I want each sound and each look."

You finally cum, giving a pitiful, "Sylus," before he's kissing you and swallowing that, too. Ever greedy in his need to have and take everything that he wants.

When you get home he's casually lounging on the sofa, T.V. on to something he's not even paying half a mind to and couldn't even tell you the name of if you asked him.

"How was your date?" he asks, not turning to look at you as you come into the living room and place your coat onto the back of a chair.

"Wonderful! My new colleague just wanted to be shown around. They're new to the area, so ai thought it would be nice since they transferred in from out of town..."

And Caleb is no longer listening as you continue to chat on, happy to have made a new connection with someone at work, to be able to support them through a difficult time. He shuts off the T.V., walking over to you in the kitchen where he places his arms around you and beging to kiss your neck, arms, and back. Turning you around until he's grinding himself against your leg like a cat welcoming their owner home and needing to instantly mark them as theirs.

Suddenly, he's fucking you against the kitchen counter, leaving little love bites for each and every comment your little friend made, not smoothing over the hurt of the blunt trauma to your body as he pounds into you hard and fast and with the intent of being so deep inside you everyone else will be able to smell him the moment they lay eyes on you.

He's marking you up so well, a trail covering your body, so that way when you go into work the next day no matter how hard you try to cover the hickies and nibbles there's always one peeking up from your collar, from your sleeve, rising with your shirt as you grab for that coffee mug on the highest shelf.