#sfic

He leans back against the bedframe, arms sprawled to either side across the pillows. For now, he’s content to watch. The two of you are doing just fine without his help. In one easy swing of your legs, you straddle your hunter partner’s thighs. His duvet rucks beneath you both as you slowly rock into each other. Soft sighs float from your joining kisses. 

One of her knees slides its way between you, pressing firmly to your core until it draws a blissful shudder from you.

Though a seemingly innocent readjustment, Sylus has grown familiar with your partner’s wiles. Nonetheless it’s her that whimpers at your pleasure. Always eager to please you. The sound makes you huff a laugh under your breath. Sylus’s cock twitches in his shorts. 

Only one thing sours the moment for him. Zayne looms over you both grimly, a dark shadow standing just at the foot of the bed. In their years of finding their own fun together, Sylus had learned to enjoy that dour face, but even he’s grown tired of the restraint on display. At first, he had allowed the other man to play out his gloomy routine. He orbited the two of you like you were something that couldn’t be touched. Always punishing himself for wanting what he could easily reach out and have. 

Fortunately for him, Sylus is a generous man. One lazy leg snakes out, nudging your ass with his shin. You swat at him but don’t turn his way. He smirks. 

“Greedy, aren’t we, kitten? The doctor is patiently awaiting his turn.” 

It works better than expected. Zayne’s head whips up, his frown darkening into something more severe, but before he can protest the crudity you beat him to it. Eyes fierce, you turn fully to shove at him. 

“You’re being a pig,” you snap. 

Ah, that’s it. As if you commanded it to do so, his cock hardens painfully. All it takes is that little nibble of attention to have him greedy for more. One arm reaches out to snatch you up. He pulls you into his lap, letting your legs fall to each side of his thigh. Even pinned against him, fiery with irritation, he can feel you clench against the muscle there. He keeps his forearm locked securely around your waist and presses your back to his chest. For now, this will have to do. By the end of the night, he’ll have time to coax more expressions from you. 

He presses a soothing kiss under your ear that does nothing of the sort. The little hairs there tickle his nose. He smiles privately and you elbow his ribs. 

“Patience, please. You may like what you see,” he says. Not letting you regain the upper hand, he reaches up to grip your chin. He tilts your head just slightly, directing your gaze back across the bed, then occupies himself with unclasping your bra.  

“Wait-” you start, only to be struck silent at the sight. He hums contentedly. 

Zayne, having dragged your partner to the edge of the bed, has her spread out in front of you. Her chest heaves, one nipple threatening to free itself from her lingerie. Once he’s set himself loose, Zayne’s focus is singular. He shoves her panties to the side, lingering just slightly on the dampness already there, and bares her cunt to you. She whimpers at the cold air on her wet lips. Sylus doesn’t miss the way Zayne smirks at the sound. 

For every touch to her clit, Sylus mirrors the same to your breasts. When Zayne pinches her clit between two fingers just to wring another desperate cry from your partner, he mimics it against your nipples. You whine low in your throat and try to swallow the sound. 

He chuckles, “So sweet.” 

“She is,” you agree quietly, though that isn’t what he meant. You try to regain your composure, but he knows better. When you want to shiver for him, you stiffen. Instead of softening, your fingernails dig into his arm that cages you. As soon as your hips move against his leg, so small and tentative, he pretends not to notice. He’s learned to let you think your surrender is subtle. 

It’s clear the moment Zayne realizes he has an audience. He tenses just briefly before throwing himself into it with renewed intensity. His hand goes to the back of your partner’s neck letting his fingers thread through her hair. He yanks her head back tightly until she looks up at him alone. Even in the dimly lit room, the two of you can see the way her glazed over eyes match her dopey smile. Zayne kisses that smile, the fingers between her legs finally plunging deep inside of her. The intensity with which he fucks her open is at odds with the tenderness he brushes against her lips. 

Sylus bites down on your shoulder, not letting you grow shy in sight of their softness. You’ve given up on all pretense and ride his thigh wantonly. Wetness drags against his skin. Rather than holding you back, his arm keeps you upright as you use him to pleasure yourself. You don’t try to break free, too keen to witness your partner’s undoing by Zayne’s hand. Once or twice, your head falls back and your eyes squeeze tight just to whip back up once you remember the sight you’re missing.

When her thighs begin to tremble, so do yours. Sylus drops both hands to your hips and drags you across him harshly. One of your hands reaches back to tug at his hair. He groans. With his added momentum, you fuck his leg to the rhythm of your partner’s high, tight whines. 

Zayne keeps her face firmly turned up towards him, unwilling to share even that. All of her weight leans against him, completely boneless and trusting. Inside of her, his fingers curl. To the untrained eye, he may appear indifferent, but Sylus isn’t untrained. His tie is still on, glasses perched perfectly on his nose, not even a hair where it’s not supposed to be. The only thing out of place is the bunched up roll of his sleeve. With his forearms out, his tendons flex taut as he fucks her. The slick sound of her arousal makes his jaw clench and unclench. 

You turn to look back at Sylus over your shoulder. Your panting expression is almost mischievous. 

“Watch,” you command, but his gaze doesn’t stray from your face. He watches you watch them and shivers at the pleasure. 

It’s not Zayne’s touch, nor the ceaseless hold he has on her, but the quiet praise he whispers between them that finally shatters your partner. Her orgasm has her writhing. Zayne’s pace doesn’t slow, though he watches on raptly. He loosens his grip on her hair just enough to stroke softly over her brow as she comes apart. Your eyes are glued to the needy pulses around his fingers. Her whine pitches to nearly as a squeal as her release sprays out of her, coating Zayne’s hand with her wetness. It doesn’t stop, with each throb that runs through her she soaks the duvet, wide open to her witnesses. Zayne moans, quickly dropping the hand that was just soothing her down to her knee. When she tries to clamp her thighs together, shyness catching up to her, he forces her leg back open and fucks into her harder. She whimpers and squirms, tears rolling fat down her cheeks. Even embarrassed and overstimulated, she thrusts up to meet him.

Zayne looks up to catch your eye. It’s that look that finally snaps the coil in you. Sylus helps you along as your thrusts devolve into greedy, desperate grinding. His muscles tense against you. Every shudder that runs through you makes him needier. The soft, breathy sounds you make when you come will never be enough for him. It’s as close to trusting as you get, falling back into his chest. 

Of course, he needs more. He’s never settled for less than everything. Before you’re through the aftershocks, he’s pulling his throbbing cock free. Bodily he drags you back into him, thrusting up between your legs and shuddering when he can feel your heat. Your protest is barely a formality before you’re shivering at the glide of his head against your folds. Again and again he fucks between you just to feel the way you twitch when he grazes your sensitive clit. 

Your partner whines for your attention. She’s red faced and teary eyed, kneeling under the canopy. Zayne stands at her back, stunned by the force of what he dragged from her. Not entirely without his sense, he reaches out to comfort her, only to be met with your glare. Sylus doesn’t try to stop you when you pull from his lap to go to her side. He wonders if you ache at the separation just as much as he does. 

For a moment, he fears that their fun might have reached its end. He watches the way you wipe her tears and coo. Both of your hands cup her cheeks, then you nod your head and gesture for Zayne to join you on the bed. He kneels there, somewhat awkwardly, until you roll your eyes at him over your partner's shoulder. 

Sylus was smug to think he was the one in control of this. With ease you take over, directing everyone just where you want them. 

“So pretty. You did so well,” you say quietly to the woman in front of you. Even directed at her, the soft praise makes him flush. It’s as if the room is yours, just the two of you gazing at one another. Despite the shift in atmosphere, Sylus still feels his cock jolt to attention at the sound of your voice. You press sweet little kisses to her forehead, complimenting her with each one, before your tone grows firm. 

“I know you have better manners than this. You want to thank Dr. Zayne, don’t you?” 

Eyes wide, pink rimmed from crying, your partner nods. Behind them, Zayne’s hand drops to the bulge in his slacks. He doesn’t do anything more than that, rubbing at his hardness. His cheeks go pink. 

Sylus has little need for such self control. Feeling the voyeur and indulging in it, his fingers wrap lazily around his cock. 

“Use your words, please,” you command. His grip tightens. Her response is so quick, desperate to do whatever you ask of her. 

“I do!” she insists. You smile down at her indulgently. Both of your hands bracket her hips. You turn her around to face Zayne and urge her forward. Now that she has direction, she goes easily. All her shame was quickly forgotten the moment she surrendered control to you. You stay glued to her back, only interrupting to smack Zayne’s hands away from between his legs. With one hand to her lower back, you hum approvingly at your partner’s slow touch down Zayne’s chest. 

She loosens his tie just enough to toss it aside, then sets to work on his buttons. With his collarbones exposed, Sylus can see just how flushed he’s gotten. At his sides, his hands bunch into fists with each stroke of her skin. Finally, she reaches his pants. 

Once freed, his cock juts hard and angry between his legs. The tip is wet and shiny. Just looking at it makes your partner whine. She doesn’t have to ask. You twine your fingers through her hair, directing her head down to where you know she wants it. 

“That’s it. Be good for the doctor,” is all you have to say. Unprepared for the forceful shove you give her, she kisses clumsily along his length. Zayne’s knuckles go white. Sylus is half afraid he’ll have to replace this duvet. 

She regains her bearing quickly. In one swift motion, when you know she’s prepared, you firmly guide her until she swallows him down. At once, all of you moan. 

Setting an even pace, you control the slow, deep drag of your partner’s mouth around him. Just when the bobs of her head steady in their rhythm, you push her harshly to the base of his member. Sylus fists furiously at himself, watching the curve of Zayne’s throat when he throws his head back. His Adam’s apple is prominent, trembling in response to the way she whimpers when she takes him. Sylus wants to lean in and bite it. 

Uselessly, with nothing to ground her, your partner’s hips roll against the air. You chuckle cruelly before taking pity on her. One arm wraps around her hips. You hold her up and cup a palm against her dripping cunt. 

“Next time, I’ll fuck you like this,” you say. She gasps, pushing back against the hold on her head. Her weak grind into your hand grows faster and she moans. Undeterred, you tighten your hold and force her head back where you want it. 

Zayne’s own control is slipping. He spasms, fucking up into her mouth after you nod your permission. Drool drips down the length of him, sliding between his legs. 

“Isn’t she a good girl?” you ask, this time directing your attention to Zayne. You take pride in it, every devoted suck and whine from the woman between you two only spurs you on more. “She’ll come just like this. I bet sucking your cock alone would be enough.” 

Your partner’s whole body shivers when you talk about her. The meanness in your tone makes her and Sylus both groan. His wrist twists and he fucks into his hand. At last, you seem to remember his presence. 

“And you? Where’s your manners?” you ask. He doesn’t point out the hypocrisy, that your partner dropped to her knees for Zayne but you won’t offer him the same. Instead, he tilts his head accommodatingly. 

“I’ve been very rude,” he agrees. He crawls to your back then brackets you in tightly with the others. You may control their pleasure, but he’ll have you caged in just where he wants you. Without asking, the delight of taking advantage of your impatience just too enticing, he grabs you by the hips and fucks up into you smoothly. Your walls suck him in so greedily. Both of you moan.

“Tight,” he huffs. You scoff. 

“Try to keep up.” 

That’s the only warning you give before you fuck forward and back. You spear yourself on him, making his legs tremble, and never loosen your grip on your partner’s hair. When his pace quickens inside of you, you follow along and guide her down faster around Zayne. 

Unwilling to simply be swept along, Sylus reaches up and harshly grasps one of your breasts. Your gasp rolls right through him. He hopes his fingers bruise. With his other hand, he loosely wraps finger to thumb from one pulse point to another. He doesn’t press down, just feels the way you gulp with his hand around your throat. It’s the sweetest gift of vulnerability before you rip back control and tighten around him.

An orchestra at your command, you all find a flow together quickly. Zayne’s neck has gone sweaty and pink. A strange, wistful smile lights his face then he’s reaching up towards Sylus. For a split second, he thinks Zayne means to caress him. Instead, his fingers force themselves past his lips. Sylus squeezes his eyes shut and sucks, whining from deep in his chest. The sound makes you thrust back against him harder still. 

With one little tug at your wrist, Zayne tries to warn you of what’s to come. You don’t falter, only smoothly lead your partner until her nose is pressed to the softness of his stomach. She gags, filled, before swallowing him down. Zayne’s grunts are quiet as he comes. 

When he pumps into her mouth, hitting deep into her throat, she moans. To some secret count, you let him release inside of her with one, two, three broken breaths before you yank her head back. The last pulses of his orgasm shoot from him, painting her cheeks and eyelashes in his release. Her own orgasm hits her when his cockhead pops loose, bobbing against her lips. Her tongue peeks out, catching what she can between pink lips. You look down at her fucked-dumb, cum-stained face as it twists in ecstasy and clamp down around Sylus violently. 

He should pull out. He even tries, against every tiny piece of him wishing otherwise, but you follow him back before he can. Spurred on, he pounds into you faster and sucks hard around Zayne’s fingers while you clench and unclench on his cock. The heat of your release, the slick way he slides in deeper, finally overtakes him. At once, his mind goes white. His grip on you tightens, freeing breathy whimpers from your lips, and he spills inside of you. He grinds deeply, filling you, then pulls out just enough to coat your folds. Slowly, he fucks back in. Each catch of his cockhead at your opening makes goosebumps run down your shoulders. The way he drips out of you, coating his own cock, mesmerizes him. His fingers go down to meet his length, stretching you further. In and out he goes, even when the stimulation makes an ache build in his spine. You shiver and squirm and still he manages to catch your smirk over your shoulder. His devotion pleases you. Another victory under your belt. 

Feeling the loss of it, Sylus finally slips out of you. 

At once, you all loosen together, releasing a unified breath. You spin your partner around and let her head fall sleepily into Zayne’s lap. Unsubtly, he wipes his drool covered fingers on the bed set before he reaches down to stroke her cheek, praising her just as you had earlier. She hums at the attention, her eyes fluttering closed then she nuzzles at his softening member and presses a small kiss to his foreskin. 

Once settled, you turn to smile at Sylus properly, like he’s in on it with you. Perhaps you shared more of your control with him than he realizes. He’s all but lost his senses to you. His answering smile is fonder than you’ll ever let him verbalize. 

At first, you entertained him. You and your partner winked and twirled and all while he sat politely in his armchair, allowing your little strip tease to play out, certain that his turn was just around the corner. The longer it went on, the more he was convinced that he was nothing but a pawn in this little game. Biding his time, he played along. Even to be your victim was a role he accepted happily. Turnabout was fair play. Ever patient, carefully watching, his finger tapped a slow rhythm against his knee. 

Under the heat of his gaze, you orbited each other naturally. He went from spectator to just another expensive piece of the backdrop without so much as a glance in his direction. Giggles pealed through the room. You pinched your partner’s sides just to hear more. Sylus understood that, painfully so. The urge to make you smile was innate within him, as fulfilling as the most worthy tasks in life could be. 

That smile was as radiant as ever, even turned towards another. In the silence of the room, the sound of lips to skin washed over his body like a wave. Her panties hit the floor, kicked aside by you, and your kisses took you both tumbling back towards the bed. His bed. Just when he was beginning to think you forgot he was there entirely, you met his eyes with a superiority in your gaze that made his slacks tighten painfully. His foot joined his finger in its slow, steady tap, keeping time on a countdown only he was privy to. 

“You’ll be good for me, won’t you?” you crooned. With one hand to her chest, you gave your partner a gentle shove. “I want you to be sweet and do whatever I say tonight.”

She hit the mattress with a little gasp, her smile up at you so cloyingly innocent that it only baited you to push harder. You grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head in the deep red silk of his duvet. In one graceful swing of your leg, you straddled her hips triumphantly. Sylus shifted in his seat. Unperturbed, falling into her submissions just as easily as she toyed with them herself, the hunter laughed. 

“I thought Sylus was doing whatever you say tonight,” she teased, “Or are you just being bossy?” 

It was as good of a cue as he was going to get. Sylus rose as if called upon. You both stilled at the sound of his approach, but only she looked his way. You, stubborn as ever, kept your gaze trained on the woman below you. 

“Sylus is still considering his options,” he said with a smirk. One hand unbuckled his belt as he reached the bed, the other trailing a slow path down your arm. Goosebumps followed his fingers, though you pointedly ignored the heavy shadow of his presence. His knee went to the bed, bracketing both of you beneath him. You could play your games, determined to ignore him until he crowned you victorious in this battle of everchanging terrain, but he could make his own rules along the way. 

His hands went to yours, trailing the tips of his fingers over your knuckles just where you gripped tightly to your partner’s wrist. Without any push or pull, he simply rested his palms there alongside yours. Over your shoulder, you glared at him. A point in his favor, stealing just a bit of your attention for himself. 

“I thought the plan for tonight was fairly obvious,” you said through gritted teeth. “Or were you not listening?”

He shrugged, “Plans change, kitten.”

As if contemplating the pros and cons of letting him have his way, your narrowed eyes scanned his face. Just when he started to believe he was pushing his luck, your partner wriggled below you. With your attention shifted, you instantly softened. 

“Fine,” you said, “Make yourself useful then and undress.” 

Sylus huffed a laugh, “I thought you’d never ask.” 

After kicking his own garments to the side, he allowed himself a moment to relish in the picture you two made before him. As soon as his hands were off of you, you returned your full attention to your partner, leaning down over her body in a delicious arch he couldn’t resist. He dragged his hands over your curves roughly, a low groan building in his chest at the sight of his hands cupping your ass. Too eager, his movements grew ruthless. He yanked your panties to the side, baring you, before pressing himself forward. His cock slid easily between the juncture of your thighs. Even taking liberties that would usually have you baring your teeth, you didn’t acknowledge him. 

That in itself made his heart race. The thought of having you any which way he chose, finally allowing yourself to be wholly his while you pleasured another, made delicious pleasure twist in his gut. The room felt hot, but chills ran down his spine with every little hitch of breath as he fucked between your legs. Sylus stood just behind you, dutifully at the foot of the bed like a servant awaiting orders, while you leaned over your prize. It was a painfully easy role to fall into. Feared leader of Onychinus or not, you pulled him along like it was simple.

When he looked down, the thick head of his cock jutted out from you, leaking onto the curve of your partner’s stomach. He watched in fascination, as if each thrust were not his own. The harder he grew, the more persistent your teasing became. Your tongue ran along the slope of her breasts, only stopping to leave little love bites that would just barely last. 

He wanted to tease you for how wet you could get just from the thrill of taking control, but he held his tongue. Once earlier, you already chastised him for talking too much. Your orders were sharp and concise, only coming out when you felt like he was overstepping. In your world, one he very much enjoyed inhabiting, he wasn’t a necessary component to the moment. No, in your world he was nothing more than a silent, dumbstruck bystander to your intimacy. It only spurred him harder, made him shut his mouth. With each command he worked to please you. 

Even when his hands travelled up to your chest, tweaking a nipple with just the right amount of pleasure-pain to make your hips stutter, you wouldn’t give him any leeway. The brief, sweet pause in the roll of your hips only lasted a moment before you were taking him by the wrists and returning his grip to your waist firmly. Just once, you reached behind yourself to tap his thigh in warning. He took that warning, rolled it between his teeth, and spit it back out. Sylus found his own little rebellions. His grasp remained exactly where you left it, but tightened just enough that he knew it would bruise tomorrow. The sort of bruises you liked, though you would swear otherwise only for him to catch you later admiring them in his mirror. 

Satisfied with himself, his cock continued fucking between you steadily. He lined himself between your folds, just for the tip of his head to catch on your partner’s clit. Her whimper made you clench around him, reward enough for all of you for him to do it again and again. When the rhythm was just right, the two of you moved as one. Quickly, it became a point of pride for him. He would anticipate your needs before you knew them yourself, pleasuring all three of you in equal part. 

“You’ve been so good, haven’t you?” you cooed to the woman in your arms. “I’m sorry I didn’t bring our toys. You want to be fucked don’t you?” 

Your fingers ran slowly across her cheekbones, tracing their way down to her lips. Sylus slowed to watch. Her eyes twinkled with mischief. She sucked your fingers into her mouth sloppily, then grabbed you by the wrist and directed your hands down between you. Heady with her own small moment of control, she spread your index and middle fingers over his cockhead. Wet with her saliva, his own desire and yours mingling together on his skin, he jolted. He could practically feel you purring in response. Back and forth you both teased him slowly. His head turned into your neck, puffing out a breath just over the little baby hairs at your nape. 

“You sure? It looks like you’ve got the perfect toy for us right here,” your partner said. A tremble ran up his back at the words. Even you aren’t unfazed, your fingers spasming where you stroke him. 

You paused only a moment, considering her words, before you snapped back into your role. When you leaned back in, playing along like you had never been shocked at all, he followed willingly. 

“You’re so wet already. So wet and I’m not even inside of you yet,” you hummed. Sylus knew that tone well and tensed at the sound of it, even directed at someone else. It was teasing, just a little mean, yet so close to tenderness it never failed to make his heart race. Gladly, he would become your most useful toy. Never would he let you reach for another. He nipped at the dip of your shoulder, his tongue lingering just long enough to taste the salty hint of sweat there. 

Your partner whined at the words alone, her flip from impish to obedient like a switch was triggered. Sylus watched the steady in and out of your fingers spreading her open. It was intoxicating. Sweat dotted your hairline, the first little hint of you coming apart between them, something messy and raw unfurling as you pulled her deeper into desperation. You fucked inside slowly, two fingers to three then finally a fourth while your thumb rubbed easy, practical circles against her clit. 

“You’re desperate, aren’t you? I can feel you clenching for me,” you said. Mocking but sweet, the cruelty that Sylus loved most. “You want me to fuck you? You’ve been such a good girl.”

Dazedly, her eyes go from you to him. It’s a reminder of the simple truth of his own participation. It became easy to lose himself, to get swept up in the game of it, but one look back sucks him down to earth. Without missing a beat, you guided him to keep his pace steady, as if sensing something within him changing. Your fingers slid out of her with a slick sound. Never as meticulous with his things as you were with your own, you wiped the wetness off your hands on his bedspread. Expecting his ready support, you leaned forward and gripped her chin between thumb and forefinger. 

“Focus, or I won’t be nice anymore,” you said, “Tell me what you want. I’m the one making you feel good, right?” 

She writhed. Sylus kept going only at the reminder of your body locked into his own. In both punishment and reward, you thrust down against him, driving his cock back down to her folds. His mind spun. The pleasure of the heat, the wetness enveloping him, was eclipsed only by the simple pleasure of satisfying the person he loved. You used the pressure ruthlessly, riding his length up along her clit until tears pricked in the corners of her eyes. His head fell to your shoulder.

“Please, please,” she begged, “I want you inside me.” 

Even with his eyes squeezed shut, pressed into your skin, Sylus could hear the smirk in your voice. 

“Inside you? Of course, baby.” 

You spread your thighs wider, tilting your hips up to give him more space to move. With ease, comfortable in the knowledge that his body was yours to do with as you pleased, you gripped the base of him. Anticipation shivered through him as you lined him up against her entrance. You denied everyone the satisfaction. Slowly, you rubbed his head in and out, never quite breaching. Wetness dripped down her thighs the more she was teased. 

Satisfied with the results, you finally thrust her way in, your hand leading Sylus along until your hips were locked together. In tandem, you both fucked into her with a low sigh, as if sharing in the relief. His chest heaved against your bare back. Sylus had never wanted to make a mess of you more than in that moment. The soft skin of your pulse point fluttered. He ached to bite you there, to stake some sort of claim over you, but held himself back just enough to kiss his way up your throat instead. With his teeth latched gently over the lobe of your ear, he could hear the breathy whimpers you tried your best to hide. 

It occurred to him only then how much power he had. It was him pistoning against you, setting the pace of your movements. Your hips only rolled in time with his thrusts, following a lead he hadn’t even realized he was setting. If he desired to, he could grip harder. He could take you both at his leisure and bring you to the brink in moments. You were all so far gone he knew you two would allow it. Instead, he savoured the feeling of relinquishing himself to you. To do so knowingly was a rush. 

As it was, it took surprisingly little to drag him to the edge of bliss. With your ass snug against him, you worked each other’s bodies. His cock was yours to use, shifting between slow, shallow thrusts to deep, demanding pumps with each new noise you could wring from your partner.  

One of your hands snapped down to her knee, pushing it flatly to the bed and spreading her wide open before you. With your other hand, you grabbed her thigh just as harshly. He could see from your grip alone how much you were affected. You hooked her leg over your shoulder, and one heel dug its way into his back, dragging him even closer until the momentum had your head bumping his chest. All of you moved together as one, in an amalgamation that became natural despite its strangeness. 

“Fuck,” the hunter cried out. Tears rolled down her cheeks, her chest and neck hot with pleasure. “You’re so big.” 

A moan escaped you. Just slightly, your head tilted back to him, gifting him with a glimpse of your expression. It’s that look that finally threw him into the fantasy, losing himself into the world you and your partner crafted together. 

“You’re so tight,” you crooned. You gentled your strokes, proud of her for taking you so prettily. It was your cock, heavy and leaking, pounding between her legs. It was you, with that beautiful expression, your eyebrows knit together in single minded focus. You thrust deep, tilting forward without even a thought to spare as to whether or not he would follow. He would, of course he would. 

You all watched, rapt, when you slid all the way out. You gripped low at the base, as if staving off your own orgasm with a tight circle where he needed it most. The way you ran your free hand over her cunt, palm heavy, was almost a pat for an obedient pet. 

“You’re doing so well,” you said, “I won’t last if we’re not careful. How do you want me?” 

Your hand danced up her thighs, ghosting over her stomach. He could feel your satisfaction when she clenched around nothing, her thighs trembling. Slowly, you began to jerk him again. His own knees felt weak with your touch. 

“How about on your face? It’d be pretty, hm?” you continued thoughtfully. He almost believed it was actually a debate for you, though the way your eyes were glued to her lower lip was telling enough.

She licked those lips, seeing the same feverish gaze that Sylus did. Her hand, previously bunched up in his sheets, went down to the apex of your thighs confidently. Without stopping the loose hold you had on his cock, she slid her thumb to your core. She drew slow circles there, smiling when you finally let her pleasure you too. Against his length, you ground down again. Just like that, fucking yourself between his length and her hand, you clenched and spasmed but refused to fully let go. 

Like she knew it was magic, your partner looked up at you pleadingly. She was a wreck. Tear tracks ran down her cheeks, her hair in disarray and tongue peeking out just slightly between her teeth, like she was desperate to taste. Your fingers wrapped around him tremored at the sight. 

“Come inside me. Please,” she asked. It was so needy, so polite, so perfectly played to stoke the fire in your belly.

And it did.

“Fuck,” you groaned as she came apart. Your head fell back into his chest, and he puffed up with pride at the vulnerability of it. With only you in his sight, the tremble of your lips as you whimpered and the hot clenching of your cunt above him, he watched your orgasm finally overtake your self-control. Without another thought, he propelled back into you, dropping his forehead to yours. You were both heated, sticky with sweat and desperate for one another. For the first time that night, it was just the two of you. His release shattered him, it nearly made his legs crumble beneath his weight. Deep in the base of his spine, tightness uncoiled, and his cum shot through your fingers. 

You panted together, perfectly in sync, until your senses came crawling back. Your grip, that had gone so tight around him, loosened all at once. Immediately he missed your desperate hold on him. Both of you pulled back just enough to survey the work you’d done. 

Underneath you, your partner snickered. His cum covered her from navel to chin, catching just at the edges of her face. Her expression was smug, as if she had gotten her way all along. Perhaps she had, if the state of her was any measurement, though she still hadn’t found her own release. You tsked in a warning that was easily ignored. 

“Well, well,” she said, all sing-song pleased with herself. “I guess we know who’s really the boss around here, don’t we?” 

Sylus laughed, half a grunt, too wrung out to muster up much else. Or so he thought. When you glanced over, all it took was one conspiratorial smile for his cock to perk up for more. A well trained toy, wasn’t he? 

You seemed to approve. You beamed. Joy at the sight reverberated through his bones. Then you turned that smile back onto your hunter. 

A Friday night. Zayne will be home late. He always is. Onychinus has too many headstrong subordinates, eager to prove themselves to the boss only to end up in the syndicate’s clinic with an annoyingly thorough doctor to look over them. It’s why Sylus is here to begin with. To blow off steam, Zayne suggested only yesterday. His ears had gone pink as he said so, but his gaze never wavered. Sylus was too on edge lately, something he knew quite well. It rippled down the hierarchy, leaving young recruits with stupid ideas of grandeur. An untenable wave of recklessness.

Though Zayne never had problems levying critiques, he wasn’t one to complain. Fine hairs at his temples were streaked with grey. Dark circles framed his eyes. It wasn’t only Sylus wound tight. A break would do everyone some good.

“Any rules?” Sylus had asked.

Zayne glanced up, the ghost of a smile on his lips, and said, “You know the rules.” 

A lifetime has passed since they last played their game. Still, the rules are simple. No permanent damage, no bystanders. Play always ends at sunrise. Plenty of time for Sylus to get a headstart. 

He begins by rifling through the bedside tables. Each drawer is meticulously organized. No condoms, but a small tube of lube is lodged in the back corner. It’s the same no-nonsense brand Zayne always used. Sylus huffs a laugh. 

It’s unclear how long he’ll have to wait. Part of him fears he’ll be here all night only for Zayne to come stumbling home exhausted with the new morning. He ignores the thought. With his face pressed to the soft silk pillow case, Sylus undoes his pants. 

The apartment is kept cool. It was always something they bickered about. Gooseflesh runs up his arms. Ignoring his half-hard cock, he draws two lubed fingers between the cleft of his ass. Each perfunctory, focused stretch open reminds him of Zayne’s easy slide. 

Sylus is by no means chaste. He finds his pleasure in handsome men and beautiful women. There’s no reason to be precious about it. Still, his thick knuckled fingers feel clumsy compared to the memory of Zayne’s. In their time apart, nobody else had breached him. He’s tight and hot, unused to the intrusion. This is just another tick on his to-do list. He wants to reach down and pleasure himself more, breathing deep the scent of Zayne’s domesticity. His free hand clenches around the headboard to stop himself from trying.  

Once properly slick and stretched, with his shaft standing ready between his legs, Sylus pulls out before he can get too greedy. Another thing they once bickered about. Carefully, he tucks himself back into his pants and rolls off the bed. He remakes the sheets nearly perfect, rucked up under his ministrations, and steps away to the adjacent bathroom. It’s the only sign of Zayne’s exhaustion. Toothpaste tube left open, a knocked over bottle of contact solution, and a dirty mirror. There sits his razor, untouched. Little cracks in Zayne’s usual routines. 

Sylus looks over his own reflection. Old. He’s gotten old. When he clawed his way to the top of Onychinus it was by the only means he knew. Force. Now he’s eye to eye with the toll that takes. New wrinkles, new scars, all signs that he lived another day. It’s something he doesn’t take for granted. To grow old was uncommon in their business. That they both managed to do so was a feat. 

He nabs Zayne’s little blue toothbrush and freshens up. Only minor preparations left to do. He returns to the bedroom with jaunty steps. One ear remains perked towards the door, waiting for the telltale sounds of keys in the lock. 

At the foot of the bed, he unhooks handcuffs from his belt. They loop easily around the leg, tucked under just enough for the glint of metal to remain unseen. Strapped to his back is the rest of his arsenal. His usual pistol sits in its holster, next to the knife that Zayne himself gifted him on the day he took over the syndicate’s operations. 

All that’s left is to wait. Something he has very little practice with these days. Sylus leans against the wall by the bedroom door, breathing slow and listening close. In his hand, he grips the knife. 

At the bedside, the clock ticks. Thirty minutes then an hour then more. What little buffer of time he gave himself now seems foolish. Sylus waits beyond fatigue. 

Just when he’s ready to give up, he hears it. Zayne’s steps are slow but determined. Certainly exhausted. He fumbles with his key ring before knocking open the door. Anticipation tingles through Sylus. There’s the thump of one shoe hitting the floor, followed by the second, only for Zayne to think better of it and shuffle to the rack. He carefully puts his things in their proper places. 

Outside, even the city has finally found sleep. Cars drive by sparingly, golden light coming and going. Every step down the hall makes Sylus tense with focus. He thought perhaps age would dull the edge. Instead, it heightens the game all the more. No longer young and stupid, half running on rage and a desperate need for control, he can savor the wait all the more.

It isn’t only him that’s honed over the years, however. As he approaches the bedroom, Zayne’s steps slow. Something is off. Sylus holds his breath.

When the door swings open, they strike at once. Zayne knows his blindspots, but Sylus wields his blade well. He slams the wall once, his bicep taking the brunt of it. His leg sweeps out, catching Zayne’s heel, and he sends them both spinning. One arm bars Zayne’s chest, the other pressing the knife tip to his throat.

“You’re lucky you’re pretty,” Sylus croons. 

Zayne’s chest rises and falls, pulse fluttering under the blade. Pretty wasn’t a lie. His lip curls in annoyance. Head to toe, he takes stock. When his eyes fall to Sylus’s leather shoes, just recently shined, he scowls. 

“I told you to come tomorrow,” he snaps. Zayne doesn’t dare move but it doesn’t dull his tongue.  Despite his cold tone, his face flushes hot. Only one foot in the game. Not quite willing to submit. Sylus leans in. His erection strains against his slacks. He rubs the rigid edge against Zayne’s hip. The prominent curve of his Adam’s apple grazes the knife as he swallows. Enticing, nearly begging to be bitten. 

“When have I ever asked permission to take what I please?” Sylus teases. He offers only one concession, kicking off his shoes. He nods, “Ready?” 

It’s the only chance he’ll get to back down. Zayne hesitates just a beat, long enough for Sylus to wonder if he pushed too hard. The defiant glint in his eye doesn’t falter, only sharpening when their gazes meet. Without even the slightest twitch to give himself away, Zayne twists to crush his shoulder against Sylus’s sternum. 

He grunts, unprepared, and falls back. The blade knicks Zayne’s cheek, before his wrist is wrenched forward. Deft fingers jab sensitive tendons, unfurling Sylus’s fingers until the knife goes skittering to the floor. Taking advantage of the momentum just enough to flip their positions, he tries to leverage Sylus back against the wall. Instead, Sylus throws the bulk of his weight into the swing. He hauls them both off their feet. They go flying to the floor in a heap. One tense arm wraps around Sylus’s head, couching his fall before his skull can crack against the hardwood. Too kind even now. Sylus will make him regret it.

He tries to roll into the impact, only to catch his shoulder in a sharp jolt. It knocks the breath from his chest. Zayne straddles his hips, pinning him to the floor. Sylus leverages himself up just enough to crush his elbow to Zayne’s jaw. His head whips. Strong hands grab Sylus by each wrist, pinning them above his head. 

Heat flares between them. Their eyes meet. At his smirk, Zayne scoffs. 

“Always so pleased with yourself. This is why we never worked,” he says. Cruel words flow forth easily for him when it comes to their past. His jaw works itself unconsciously. Never applying pressure, he locks his elbow above Sylus’s trachea. So hot and cold. 

Sylus rolls his hips. Their clothed cocks brush against each other. He doesn’t need to fake it when he moans.

“And you’re not pleased?” he asks, “It sure feels like it from here.”

Outside, rain pelts the window. Steady drops against the glass. Moonlight cuts through. It illuminates the dark, singular focus of Zayne’s glare. Sylus leans up, close enough to kiss him. He is rather pleased with himself. Ever so slightly, Zayne’s fingers loosen their grip. 

Stars burst behind his eyes when he smashes their heads together. His brow connects with the bridge of Zayne’s nose. His glasses careen off his face, startling him just enough for Sylus to buck him off. Behind his back, the cool metal of his gun grounds him. He snaps it around, aiming the barrel just between Zayne’s brow. 

“Be good for me, doctor,” Sylus croons, “No more fighting.” 

It’s hardly a request. Zayne’s hands go up slowly. His eyes flick from trigger finger, to the smile Sylus wears, down to the bulge of his slacks. On his knees, Sylus takes the lead. They go in tandem. Zayne crawls back until he hits the foot of the bed. His pinky bumps the cold curve of the handcuffs. He freezes. 

“Go on,” Sylus insists.

From behind, Zayne locks one wrist in. Sylus hums his approval before moving to assist with the second. Only once he’s fully secured does the tension leave his shoulders. Fight drains from him little by little. Sylus shimmies to his lap. With locked hips. he positions himself low at Zayne’s knees. Easier to enjoy the full view this way. The pistol trails down, caressing from temple to neck. It rests securely under his chin, tilting his face up. Pale, smooth skin exposed to explore. 

He grinds down. Zayne’s thigh is taut with muscle. It tenses under him, hard and warm. 

Twice Sylus taps the gun to Zayne’s lips. When he doesn’t open up, Sylus drives the butt to his temple. It knocks his face to the bed. Obedience is never a request.

“Out of practice?” he asks. Only then does Zayne part his lips. Whether he means to protest or acquiesce, Sylus shoves the gun between his teeth. It clacks against his canines. Zayne winces. For every thrust against Zayne’s thigh, Sylus pulls the gun in and out. Stubbornly, Zayne’s mouth hangs agape. Drool pools at the corners of his lips. 

Open palmed, Sylus delivers one full force slap to his cheek. It rings through the room. Steely green eyes follow him in the dim light. Sylus delivers one more slap, just to watch that gaze falter.

After that, Zayne’s cheeks hollow in a deep suck. He follows unspoken orders well enough. Sylus hasn’t seen the sharp line of his cheekbones like this in years. Tight pleasure suffuses him. Encouragements spill from his lips. The hand that bruised only moments before strokes up into Zayne’s hair in apology. He coils his fingers through threads of inky black. 

“Needy thing, aren’t you?” Sylus says, “All that protesting just to be a little slut when I give you something to suck on.” 

A low, animal whine builds in Zayne’s chest. The sound sends Sylus spasming. Little rolls of his hips devolve into eager pumps. Before he can get too far ahead of his own agenda, he drops his weight fully. A pink tongue flashes between Zayne’s lips. It follows the wet barrel as it slips free. Sylus groans. 

He tosses the gun away, letting it hit the bed with a bounce. Beneath him, Zayne pants. That calculating stare has gone foggy. Dazed eyes track his movements. Sylus stands, pulling his cock free and kicking off his slacks. 

Cockhead thick and throbbing, he steps forward. Zayne licks his lips in invitation. Two taps of the tip, and those lips part for him sweetly. 

“You’ve missed this,” Sylus says. 

“Wait, I can’t-”

Leveraging his knee to Zayne’s shoulder, Sylus slides his cock home. Warm wet envelops him. Zayne tries to pull back, gagging when the tip rocks to the back of his throat. Sylus grasps his chin in firm fingers. With a squeeze above his jaw, he forces Zayne’s mouth open. Fucking down and deep, he finally allows himself to let it all go. No more restraint. Each choking breath from below only spurs him on more. The pace he sets is erratic and sloppy. Zayne is just as uncoordinated. His tongue fumbles along, pressing hotly to one prominent vein. 

Starving for this. Both of them. His throat contracts, trying to adjust to the intrusion, and Sylus only tenses and pushes harder. In turn, Zayne goes slack. White, blinding pleasure takes over. It crawls from tip to spine, sending shivers down his neck. Power and control, never more delicious than when they were hard won. 

When Sylus reaches his climax, Zayne’s hips jump behind them. He thrusts up into nothing and keens in time with every throbbing wave. Sylus paints his throat in his cum. Around his jaw, his fingers flex and release with each pulse of his shaft. Moans vibrate around him, shooting right to his core. He pulls back just enough, catching his head on slick lips, to rub the final spurts against Zayne’s willing mouth. 

Sylus releases him with a grin. His thighs tremble. He drops to Zayne’s lap before his weakened knees grow too obvious. With the last of his energy, he licks Zayne’s chin, lapping up his own cum. His forehead knocks forward to the mattress just long enough to catch his breath. He wants to purr, unlock the cuffs, and pull Zayne to the bed for a proper fuck. Maybe when they were younger he could have managed it. Not worth giving up their game, as it is. Neither of them truly have what they need, as it is. 

Blindly grasping, he reaches back to rub a hand against Zayne’s neglected erection. Still hard and wanting. Just as he knew it would be. 

“Feel that? Doesn’t matter which hole I fuck, you always want it,” he groans. Zayne tosses his head away. Looking over his handiwork, Sylus is rather pleased. They’re both disheveled. Zayne’s cheek is flushed and ruddy where his hand had connected earlier. Buttons have popped loose, revealing the blushing pink across his collarbone. In a different time, a gentler time, Sylus would have licked his way across it. After that, he would make his way up, where short hairs stick to his temples. Dotted with sweat and out of breath. A job well done, and there was plenty left to do. 

Tight-gripped, he pulls Zayne’s cock free of his slacks. It slaps his navel. Dark hair sends him on a trail straight down to his waistband. With a yank, Sylus shoves his pants down over his ass. Zayne’s cock is paler, longer and thinner. It curves nicely, perfectly made to hit the most delicate places inside. Rather than treating it sweetly, coaxing it to pleasure, Sylus squeezes it between his fingers until he earns a yelp. 

Zayne hisses, “Fuck. Enough.” 

Not likely. Just to prove he heard, Sylus hums sweetly. He flips himself over until they’re back to chest. Breaths tickle his ear. 

“I’ll be gentle,” he lies. 

First he goes slow. Easy. He wets his thumb on the tip and rubs it around the head. One hand pulls back the foreskin while the other trails down the shaft. No need to rush. At his back, barely there kisses melt into licks and nibbles. Deserving of a reward. 

Unfortunately, when he’s most deserving is when Sylus most wants to deny him. His pace quickens, pumping up and down until Zayne thrusts follow into the circle of his hand. Just when he nears the edge, teeth clamping down hard enough to bruise, Sylus halts. Thumb and forefinger circle the base and squeeze. In his hands, Zayne’s member throbs uselessly. Dribbles of pre-crum spill forth. Pathetic little attempts at release. 

Zayne whines. He tilts his head just enough to nip Sylus’s earlobe. With a croon, he starts them over again. This time, Zayne’s hips follow along more tentatively. They follow each jerk of Sylus’s hand, fucking himself up. Once the pace reaches a crescendo, Sylus stops them again. The same hold to the base. Another harsh squeeze. One more lovely whimper from Zayne, followed by a string of curses. 

Two more times before he’s satisfied. Into the crook of his neck, Zayne begs for more, no more, both and neither. He demands as much as he pleads. Croons and keens. Sylus laughs and starts again. 

When he’s so sensitive his thighs twitch at the smallest touch, Sylus flicks the head. Though he’s gone softer with the teasing, his cock betrays him. With each cruel flick, it stiffens. Zayne gasps. His legs scramble and he tries to pull away. In retaliation, he gets a slap. Three sharp smacks to his length. Words fail him, only humiliated huffs. 

Bending low, Sylus hovers over his prize. Open mouthed, he lets spit pool on his tongue. Drool drips from his lips down Zayne’s length. He surges. 

Before his thrashing can dethrone Sylus, he rearranges himself more securely. Between his legs, against all odds, his own erection strains. It bobs and sways with his movements. He kneels above Zayne’s hips, lowering himself. 

The stretch is searing. Earlier, his fingers could only prepare him so much. He tortures them both with a swift thrust down. Whatever Zayne’s protestations, Sylus ignores them. Instead he fucks himself open. After a moment to adjust, he slides back up. A few pumps to situate himself. 

“Me first, then you get your turn,” he promises. Zayne’s lazy tongue gives up on words. All he can muster is a half-hearted glare. Sylus takes him by the throat. Between two fingers, he pinches each pulse point. Zayne writhes. His cock rubs deep in Sylus’s walls, a slick slide against his prostate that makes him quake.

He uses Zayne’s cock like the toy that it is. Low shallow grinds to long demanding pumps. With each pull to the tip catching tight muscle, his fingers grip harder. Zayne’s life flutters under his hands. His shaft twitches inside of him. In tandem with the roll of his hips, he cuts off Zayne’s air just long enough for his eyes to roll back. Fucking down, he releases. Each time he bottoms out, Zayne gasps. He squeezes around him ruthlessly. 

Red faced and teary eyed beneath him, Zayne is irresistible. His eyes squeeze shut. The veins along his neck bulge. A smear of blood stains his jaw, where the knife had caught him earlier. Stark white teeth worry the plush skin of his bottom lip. When had he last kissed those lips? Not once in ten years. A stray thought. One that Sylus knows better than to act on. 

Their teeth clack together. It’s clumsy. Both of them are out of practice. It still makes him groan. Hardly what you could call a kiss. More spit and hot tongues running across any exposed skin. Nothing tender. 

With his free hand, Sylus reaches down to jerk his own cock in a rough grip. He fucks them sloppily. Caught up, he barely tracks the tension of his fingers along Zayne’s neck. With this new advantage Zayne manages to get his feet under them. He leverages himself to fuck Sylus hard and senseless. No rhythm guides them, only tingling need. With no regard for the man riding him, Zayne pistons in a surge of adrenaline.

He spills inside of Sylus with one last sharp thrust. It’s wordless. Any air left in his lungs is savored. Heat splits Sylus down the center. All he can muster is tiny, sharp jolts that send Sylus bouncing in his lap. Every pulse coats him from the inside. 

Satiated, smug beyond speaking, and having properly used Sylus for his own pleasure, Zayne smirks. His tongue peeks from between his lips. Sylus’s fingers spasm around his length. 

He bares his teeth to hide his smile, “You shouldn’t have done that.” 

An empty threat. He has nothing left to hold over him. All he can do is draw a deep breath and return to their punishing pace. Zayne squirms, oversensitive, but gives up his fight. Between his own hand, the whimpers he wrings out, and Zayne’s hot cock splitting him, his relief is not far off. 

Cum dribbles down his thighs. It makes him keen, high and throaty. 

“Now who’s pleased with himself?” He hisses, before his throbbing cock sets them free. Stripes of cum shoot across Zayne’s exposed stomach. It drips from his hand, rolling down his wrist. Their earlier pretense of a kiss feels well practiced in comparison to the open mouthed pants they now offer each other. His thighs quake. Sylus gives up all need for control. He hits Zayne’s lap with a grunt. Inside of him, his cock has gone soft. It slips out wetly. Both of them are too exhausted for much else. He’s unsure how long they lay there, bundled together. Outside, the streetlights flicker. Sylus squeezes his eyes shut to ignore their insistent call. Daylight awaits. 

From behind his back, Zayne rattles the handcuffs. 

“Let me out,” he grumbles. Sylus disentangles himself and pulls off enough to look them over. 

Blow off steam. He almost laughs. Is that what they set out to do? They’re a mess. Weapons and clothes scattered around the room. The windows above the bed are thick with steam. They smell of sweat and sex. It’s only a matter of time before Zayne will want to get up and shower. 

Sylus hums. He’ll take what contentment he can from this. His fingers trace Zayne’s jaw. Under his thumb, Zayne’s frown lines feel no different from his own.

“So bossy,” he mutters, “You’re always first to end the fun.” 

His fingers shake when he unclips the key from his belt. Zayne wiggles impatiently. Down his arms, under the bed, he undoes each wrist carefully. They’re bright red and chafed from their struggle. By Monday, Zayne will have them covered under a tightly buttoned shirt. Only Sylus will know it’s there. Every bruise, the cut he hopes will scar, little marks he’s left behind.

Hating the foolish flutter in his stomach, he stands. Ass naked in nothing but his own white shirt. Suddenly he hates their game. Before, his moodiness was always a sore spot between them. It locks his words tightly in his throat now. He would laugh just to voice them. What use is this desire, when he has everything? Even with age, it hasn’t gone away. 

Lost to his thoughts, he doesn’t notice the hand clasping around his ankle until it’s too late. Zayne yanks, tearing Sylus from his feet. Colors zip by in a blur. He hits the floor with none of the concern from earlier in the night. His head slams the hardwood, stunning him. When he blinks back the daze, Zayne sits atop him. There’s no playful grin, no easy banter, just a cool gaze honed on his target. His eyes are harsh and unreadable. Fluttering eagerness dances through Sylus’s chest.

“You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?” Zayne asks. 

Sylus shivers. One last glance up to the remains of the night. Still some time until sunrise.