#rust syndicate

Shifting, her eyes adjusting to the darkness of a room recently discovered, exposed and enveloped in skin with scars formed by dangerous decisions.

She fully opens, senses heightened, gone into overdrive. The smell of sweat, sex, and a choice that left everyone in the room welcomely overstimulated in a state of euphoria wafting through her.

Over on the right, a door barely opened, as if to taunt her. As if it knew she would awake in the early hours of the morning.

Slipping out from a loose yet protective grasp three times larger than her, she graces her way to the room on the right, her body light and thighs shaking.

While relieving herself in private, the door now closed and light beaming from underneath; proof of her wake; blurred eyes blink, looking towards the light.

He cannot see much, not without the glasses that usually occupy his face; the face that belongs to a man feared. Corbeau sits up, leaning on his elbow, waiting for his late night decision to make her way back into the safe space of his bed, his right-hand man laying next to him in a completely different world.

Darkness consumed once more, the door opening again as her silhouette returns, legs still vibrating from actions only hours prior.

“You okay?”, he whispers, sitting up straighter as he moves the bed sheet away from himself, inviting her into his space, his body free and warm.

She nods in response, now picking up her pace, a gleeful pep in her step as she approaches, their bodies connecting physically and energetically. Sliding into the sheets and into his arms, his body like a furnace around hers, she presses the side of her face onto his chest.

“Sorry, I had to pee”, she mumbles, afraid to wake the larger man from his slumber and bring him back to reality.

Corbeau turns to look at Philippe from over his shoulder, the man deep and lost in a dimension somewhere near and far. He turns back to face her, leaning in as he whispers against her cheek.

“Missed you already. Can’t help but think that Philippe had you the most”.

Goosebumps erupt throughout her body, her limbs intertwined with Corbeau’s, the heat between her legs convulsing and beating to the sound of her heart, her pulse roaring deep within her walls and twitching in anticipation. She rubs her already slick bundle of nerves against his thigh, earning a deep groan in response.

“Getting possessive?” She coos, her lips grazing against his jaw, following a brave and exploratory path towards his Adam’s apple, licking his sensitive and hot skin.

His hands take their time exploring her as well, fingertips gliding down the curve of her spine, pads dancing along her waist as they find their way towards the curve of her, gripping hard and blessing her with a loud slap and grab.

“I prefer the word ‘fair’”, he smirks against her skin, flipping so that he’s now on top of her instead, pinning her against the mattress, his leg kicking the bed sheets off and away from them. More for Philippe to cuddle with as it flips over on top of him in his sleeping state.

Corbeau leans forward, soft lips against hers as he closes his eyes, mouth grazing her own, tongue tasting her, lazily whispering against her beautiful face.

“Tell me I can have you”, he says, eyes closed yet so focused on every reaction of hers, her thighs responding, spreading apart as if this were destined.

She looks over at Philippe as she kisses Corbeau, still in a deep sleep, before Corbeau cups his hand against her cheek, bringing her back to his attention.

“What about-“

“Don’t worry about him. He’s okay, I promise”.

She smiles, snickering against his lips and teeth as Corbeau excitedly claims himself in his hand, lining up in preparation before leaving one last kiss on her forehead, his knee playfully nudging her apart even further, wiggling his way closer and closer.

“I was made to be here in this moment with you, I swear”, he gasps, feeling the heat of her from the outside, hands shaking in his own impatience, unable to grasp at something so unreal and mind altering.

Flesh and bone spreading apart completely, magic revealing in between. She doesn’t leave his gaze:

“Please have me”.

He finally moves, a slow pace forward that connects them physically and spiritually, the binding of two becoming one; the closest he can ever be to her.

Full.

His eyes widen slightly, looking down at her the whole time, not missing a single shift, a single flutter of her lashes, not missing her thighs twitching in response. His jaw slack, in awe, his pupils blowing up; what once was full amber now only a ring.

She was everything and unreal all at once.

A pause.

Adjustment. Frozen. Walls stretched, loose and calculating.

Then tight.

He moves, slow, deliberate, something else other than his brain in control. The bed frame smacking against the wall, a tempo of love; a way to say ‘all of me is in all of you’ without words.

She looks over at Philippe again, his chest rising and falling with each breath, unaware of the present. Her attention back on Corbeau, her nails on his back, her head between the palms of his hands.

“Don’t you dare hold back”.

Immediate response, on command; thumping of the squeaking bed, skin slamming, slick wetness.

Philippe moves.

They notice, but don’t.

Corbeau’s eyes still locked on her, his breath warm against her lips, his eyelids heavy, face hot and flush.

Philippe reaches over, eyes closed, hand on her head, brushing her hair gently, tucking it behind her ear.

“Good girl”, Philippe croaks, voice adjusting to his planet again.

Her eyes glance at him: his back against the mattress, his head resting peacefully against his pillow, his hand still caressing her hair. His voice more demanding.

“Keep fucking her just like that, Corbeau”.

Corbeau, obeying so well, unable to stop. Hips rotating, motions like a wave, crashing into a sea of her. Her siren call singing from her lips with every crash of him.

Her eyes still on Philippe.

On his chest, the hair, his breath,

Before her eyes return to Corbeau.

“Show him what I deserve”, she purrs, her legs locked around Corbeau’s hips.

She deserves fullness.

She deserves warmth.

She deserves protective eyes.

Corbeau releases himself through himself, connecting to her, giving her all of him: fullness, warmth, protection.

Philippe smirks, eyes now open, looking and seeing. His hand still on her head, fingers running through delicate hair.

“Good boy, Beau”.

————

Another one I wrote in like 30 minutes while bored in bed. I’m probably going to delete this and repost on my AO3 once I get my invitation. I might add onto this and make it more explicit if anyone is interested :)