#somsplaylist

There's a ticklish feeling between your legs, right at your pubic bone. Your underwear works as a barrier from it, so you can't tell what it is. You know the touch is light, tracing, drawing shapes that you can't make sense of, moving downwards before coming back up.

You shift your legs a little, opening them more, but make no other move as sleep's unrelenting grip pulls you back under.

The touch continues, still light, but with your quiet consent it doesn't stop its descent. It traces circles over your labia and your entrance before going back up and circling around your clit without applying any pressure, and then back down it goes.

The movement is lazy, unhurried and slow, stimulant enough to bring attention but not enough to bother you– it's not intense enough to wake you and keep you with him.

It's oddly comforting, and it doesn't help with your fight to stay up instead of falling back asleep.

Are you even asleep? You can't tell anymore, your dreams have always been vivid.

Fingers dip closer to your entrance, trace around it without going in, collecting the wetness on it. Then they go back up to trace gentle, barely there circles on your clit. Your hips twitch towards it, the pressure isn't gratifying enough.

The mischievous chuckle beside you is deep and rich; it melts you further in place. You hum softly and cuddle closer to the warmth beside you, still sleepy, still barely there, still unable to tell between dream and reality.

You feel lips against your temple before fabric is pulled aside and a finger breaches your entrance. It pulls a soft little sigh from you, and he can't help but think you're adorable. How receptive to him you are, even while asleep. His chest swells up with pride, with love, because you trust him this much to be completely relaxed and unworried.

“So perfect for me, baby.” He whispers to himself and starts fucking you with it, slowly, like he's got all the time in the world. And when the slide becomes easier, he adds another one. That addition pulls a sleepy gasp from you, a subtle hitch in breath he wouldn't have noticed if he wasn't paying attention. The hum and clench around his fingers that follow makes his cock throb against your thigh, but he ignores it in favor of seeing how much farther he can push it before you wake up.

One of your hands shoots up, jerky and stuttery in its movements as it sneaks under his clothes, before fingers wrap loosely around his cock. You give one faint squeeze around the head, and he considers you might be awake, eyes closed and all, but you make no other movement. The next breath he takes is shaky, mouth against your shoulder as he leaves a kiss there.

His fingers resume the movement inside you. The pace slowly picks up, along with the pressure and soon enough, he's watching– in awe and in love– as your hips start chasing after his fingers. He stares, takes in every detail. The slight frown on your face, the light sheen of sweat, feels you clench uncontrollably around his fingers, the shake of your legs as you cum on them; it all makes his cock throb.

Even when you close your legs around his hand and grind into his palm, you still don't wake. He wonders what you were dreaming of, what has got you this gone into your dreams? He waits until your legs fall back open, and then he moves.

The first thing to go is your underwear, as beautiful as it looks on you, he wants it off. Wants nothing between the both of you but warmth and love and affection. Next is gently guiding you into lying on your side, your back to his chest. You go fairly willingly, curling up against him as he wraps an arm under you to keep you close.

Then go his boxers. He's more lazy with taking them off, desperate to be inside you, so he pulls them down to his thighs but doesn't kick them off. He's one handed as he guides his cock between your folds, bites back a groan as he grinds against them to coat his cock with your slick. The promise of what's to come makes his sight hazy and he has to focus on keeping control.

You moan when he slides in, finally all the way home.

“So good for me, sweetheart,” He praises, because he can't help it, incapable of keeping his mouth shut when he's inside you, of keeping the words in, “taking me so well.”

He sighs against your nape and leaves open mouthed kisses there, kneads your boobs and plays with your nipples in the same soft and lazy way from earlier. He knows you're awake when you shift to move and still when you find your movements limited.

“Sylus.” You call out to him and he swears he sees heaven when he hears your sleepy voice calling out to him.

“Good morning, baby,” He whispers, voice raspy with poorly held back desire. And god, isn't it so hot to have it so close to your ear? Good fucking morning indeed.

He rises to fully see you, and leans to kiss you, saving you the hassle of twisting your body to look at him. He kisses every area of your face he can reach, nose, eyelids, forehead, cheeks and finally, your lips.

The kiss is slow, languid, and filled with things left unsaid, things neither of you need to say out loud. Your soft sigh against his lips makes him smile and he can't help pulling away to look at you.

“Dream of anything?” He nuzzles his nose against yours before trailing off to kiss your cheek, all the way down to your neck.

“Had a fun one.” He hums, a hand reaching down to caress your thighs, your stomach, your ribs, “It was a little weird, but still fun and cool.”

“What was it about?” One of his fingers rounds your areola, touch feather-light as it keeps swirling inwards until it reaches your nipple. He flicks it once, before pinching and pulling. You arch into it, mouth falling open with a gasp.

“Sweetie, answer the question.” He reminds with a whisper, teeth nibbling your shoulder in warning.

“I was… somewhere– a spaceship.” You blink, frowning as you try to pick up the sand like pieces of your dreams while he keeps distracting you. “Delivering cargo for some organization. You were there too.”

“Oh?”

You whine when you feel him start to pull away.

He shushes you gently, “It's okay, sweet girl.” before thrusting back in. His thrusts are slow, deep and toe curling. You can't help concentrating on the feeling of the slow drag of his cock against your walls.

“Keep going, sweetness, why was I there?”

You huff in frustration, “I don't know, I think the cargo was for you.” You moan at the change of angle, and grip onto his forearm like your life depends on it. Every drag of his cock against your sweet spot makes your eyes roll and stars burst behind your eyelids.

“What happened after?”

“Ah– after what?” You clench around him and he groans.

“After you dropped the cargo.” As unaffected as he tries to sound, his breathing starts picking up. You're so warm around him, clenching on him like a vice, so perfect and soft.

“You– you took me to your office and–” Your combined moans take over as ambiance for the room, along with the squelch of your pussy as it clings to his cock. The claps of your skin start to join in the melody as your moans rise in pitch. He furrows his brows, groans with the effort to keep the rhythm steady– to not let go and move his hips faster, harder.

“And?” He hides his face in your neck, nuzzles the skin there and keeps you moored to him, arms coiled around you like a clingy octopus.

“You were… being a little shit, as usual,” he can't help but chuckle at your choice of words. It sends a wave of shivers down your spine, tingling all the way down to your cunt, “kept walking around a-as if you were a vulture and cornered me against the– fuck– the desk.”

“Oh no,” you can feel his grin against the crook of your shoulder. He's not even trying to hide it, not in his voice and not in his actions, “What else did I do?” One of his hands starts snaking down your stomach, the back of his nails raking softly down your skin and leaving goosebumps behind as they go. “I couldn't have possibly done–” his fingers reach your clit and start pressing slow circles into it– “something like this?”

Your consequent moan makes him throb inside you, and you can't help the way your hips buck.

“Sylus, please.” You whine. You're close, he can tell, can feel you clench around him like a vice, feels the way your back arches away from him, sees the way your hips move.

He still decides to be a little shit about it, “Please what, sweetie? Use your big girl words.”

“Wanna cum.”

“Yeah? Don't want me to stop?” He hums at your string of ‘yes’s and nibbles at your earlobe, “Go ahead, sweet thing, come for me,” hisses when you pull at his hair, “Let me feel you.”

You come with his name on your lips, and his voice whispering sweet nothings on your ear, eyes rolling to the back of your head and your sight going crazy with colors.

“Fuck, where do you want it, princess?” He's breathless, desperate for release but still holding back for you.

“In, inside, please, please, please.” That's all it takes for him to follow. His hips slam once, twice, before he's buried as far as he can go inside you and cumming. He groans into your neck, biting at the skin as his hips still.

It's quiet for a while, where both of you spend the time catching your breaths. He licks at the teeth marks and kisses them before trailing a path of kisses down to your shoulder. You're the one to break the peaceful silence by stretching out of his hold and turning your body towards him with a grin.

“Good morning, Sy.”

There's a thin layer of ice on his fingertips, which are currently rubbing soothing circles into your temple. As comforting as it is, you can't help but wonder, how much better would it feel if his touch was someplace else?

"Where does it hurt?” His voice lacks the usual clinical edge it takes during situations like these, softened by his worry for you.

You sniff and lift the hoodie you stole from Xavier's closet before bending your knees to open your legs, revealing the soaked underwear and the wetness clinging to your thighs. You hear gasps come from other parts of the room, and the scents that were faint grow into darker notes that make you even wetter. "Here, it hurts here. No matter what I do, nothing makes it better.

“Help? Please?" You can't help curling closer to him and wincing when a fresh wave of ache hits. "Please." You're not above begging in this instance, not when there's so much pain you don't know what to do with.

He falters, his cold hand caresses your fever tinted cheek, "Are you sure?”

You nod repeatedly, clinging to his shirt and whining, "Yes, please, it hurts so much."

"Okay, darling, okay." You melt into him when he kisses your forehead. He shifts to get more comfortable, lies you on your back and leans on his elbow beside you. "Tell me when you want to stop, alright?"

"Promise." You shift closer to him, tucking your head into his chest and purring at the warmth.

"Just be gentle, please."

“Should–” Xavier's voice comes from some part of the room as you take off your ruined underwear with Zayne's help, “Should we leave?”

The question sinks like a rock in a lake, disturbing the clear water and murking everything with sour notes “No!” you unintentionally yell, instantly sitting up. The sudden movement makes you dizzy, and Zayne has to steady you as you try to regain your senses. It's hard when your sight is so blurry that you can only guide yourself by colors to know who is who and where they are, “Stay.”

“Please.” You add, your voice softer, weaker under the crushing silence. The longer they stay quiet, the more suffocating it is. You hope they want to stay, “All of you?”

Someone breathes a sigh of relief and the scents flourish so sweetly it helps you relax a little. But what calms your frayed nerves down is Sylus's reassurance, "We won't leave, sweetheart.”

He reaches for your hand and the kiss he gives to your knuckles makes your chest warm, “Lie back down for us.” You give his hand one squeeze before letting go, lying back down with barely any other coaxing needed.

The colors shift closer, and you get to see a little bit more clearly, just enough to distinguish eye colors but only Zayne and Sylus’s faces remain completely clear.

You exchange looks, a quiet question that receives a quiet answer. The first touch is light, a little cold, but it already makes everything feel better. Your eyes fall closed as you sigh and move your hips into it.

"Like this?" He asks, as he measures how much gentleness to use to handle you, fingers drawing circles over your clit. His eyes shift between his fingers on you and your face, taking note of every reaction and movement.

You moan, your back arching, colors pop behind your eyelids and pleasure dances its way through your body. "Just like that."

That starts your descent into the heat haze.

You know they whisper sweet encouragements to you, that Rafayel compliments you at every chance he gets, but none of it registers; you're too far gone, reduced to basic instinct under Zayne's hand.

You try biting back your whimpers when his fingers slide in– you were too wet for one to feel good enough when he attempted it, so he'd gone for two under your request.

Try muffling your moans by hiding half your face under your hoodie– “Don't hide, sweetheart, let us see your face.” Zayne's voice, the most affected you ever heard it sound, sent a pang of hunger through your body so strong, your hips bucked and your whole body twitched.

But it all failed when Xavier's scent hit your nostrils– so sudden and soothing, contrasting the darker notes of the room. It threw you further into the haze.

You're moving on pure instinct when you expose your stomach to them, when you bunch the fabric under your armpits and hold your boobs together, playing with your nipples. Their scents take an even darker note, and you can't help keening with satisfaction. It feels like approval, and that approval is what tips you over the edge.

“Fuck,” You gasp, clenching on Zayne's fingers as you shake with the force of your orgasm. It comes over you like waves breaking upon rocks, each one softer than the last as the tide recedes. Along with it comes some clarity.

You grab Zayne's wrist when he moves to pull his fingers out, “Can– Wanna keep them inside, please, can I?”

There's a bit of surprise pulling at his eyebrows but it all goes away once he nods, lips shaping into a soft smile filled with affection. He leans to kiss your forehead, and you keep him there to kiss his flushed cheek. But one kiss isn't enough, so you do it again; once, twice, thrice, each time closer to his lips, each one sweeter than the last.

When you finally do kiss him, it's softer than cotton candy and clouds. It's languid and slow, like the walks you would take with Caleb during spring or the hours you would spend with Rafayel in the water during the summer. Comforting like cuddling with Xavier during winter and relaxing like reading a book or listening to music with Sylus in autumn. And it's sweeter than Zayne's favorite treats for each season.

It's sweet, but there's a hidden undercurrent that you can't help but fall into, and soon enough, you're clinging to his arm and grinding into Zayne's palm as the kiss deepens.

“Shit, that's so hot.”

You pay no mind to the rest of the boys. Not like you could anyways, not with the way Zayne's kissing you. It makes you dizzy, unable to think of anything but his lips on yours. He kisses like he adores you, like he needs you, like there's so much he's been holding back that it now spills out of his control.

More than making you feel powerful over him, it makes you want him just as much in turn.

You mewl when his fingers start moving inside you again, pulling away and gasping for breath. You hide your face in his neck, greedily taking in his scent. It's still sweet, but deeper, darker; it reminds you of dark chocolate covered almonds.

It's too much and not enough.

You take off your hoodie– with Sylus’s help after struggling with the sleeves– leave it aside but not too far out of reach. You follow with undoing the buttons on Zayne's shirt, barely getting to the fourth before shoving your face into his shoulder.

“Zayne,” His name spills from your lips in a whimper as he fucks you faster, following the desperate undulation of your hips. You open your eyes and pull away to find his gaze already set on you– his already enchanting eyes pull you even closer with the hunger, awe, and devotion swirling in them. You don't want to look away, don't want to blink. You bite your lip with the effort, it still doesn't stop your eyes from rolling to the back of your head when he continues to make you see stars with his fingers.

You throw your head back, and who is he to deny your temptation?

His lips find the skin of your neck, and when you moan out his name again, he groans against it. You swear you could come from his sounds alone. Your fingers tangle in his hair and his response to you pulling on it is to nibble on your neck in retaliation.

The feeling of his teeth on your neck throws you into a frenzy. One you're not even aware you're in as you hold him close, and whisper a string of “please” that seems to have no end, head tilted back and neck completely exposed for him.

“Please, what, darling?” He kisses the center of your collarbones before slowly going up, up, up, one kiss at a time, “I can't give it to you if you don't tell me what you want.”

“Bite me, please, please, Zayne, please, I need it, please.”

And oh, the gentle way he shushes you. The gentle way he kisses your lips, a complete contrast to the relentless way his fingers are moving inside of you. He teases you a little bit, just to see what you'll do or hear what you'll say, leaves open-mouthed kisses, hickeys and barely nibbles on your skin.

Until you say, “Please, wanna be yours, make me yours.” and well, if you're gonna say it like that.

The moment he properly bites you is the moment you cum, wrecked and unprepared for the earthquake of an orgasm that runs through your body. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream as you squirt all over his arm and the bed.

You don't register the gasps, nor the curses, nor the groans. You don't register anything, completely lost as the euphoria overcomes you.

When you come back to yourself, you feel much more clear-headed. Zayne is unable to pull his hand away, as your legs are firmly closed around his arm and your hand is holding it in place. You feel a little shy when you let go, and you use the sleeves from the discarded hoodie to cover part of your face.

He chuckles, “Look at you, giving a show for us one second and getting shy the next.” His lips find your temple and leave a soft kiss there before his fingers slowly leave you. The squelch is loud, and you feel a little embarrassed as he helps you sit up.

“Since you're feeling better now, we should talk about it, we don't know how long that will last.” Xavier and Caleb snap into motion after Zayne's words. Xavier walks closer and gives you a bottle of water to drink from, already snapped open. While you drink, Caleb looks through the mini fridge to find you some coconut water, and the empty water bottle in your hands gets replaced in the blink of an eye.

“What do you want to do?” Xavier says one thing, but his eyes and his scent convey another.

“I want to spend it with you– all of you.”

There are several intakes of breath, and you can't help the teasing words that fall out, “Alright, but don't take all the oxygen in the room, I need air to breathe too, you know?”

Some of the tension in your body leaves when they laugh, the rest gets hidden behind your drink as you try to finish what remains of the coconut water.

“I'll be in charge of the food.” Caleb proclaims, and that's the kickstart to making preparations. Your instincts pull you away from the conversation, and you start shifting some things around in the nest.

“We'll need to take turns helping her, everyone will have to cook at some point,” Zayne counters gently, after drinking a bit of his own water. Their eyes follow you as you move, add the hoodie you were wearing here, move a plushie there, take the hoodie back and put it on…

“Except Xavier, don't let Xavier into the kitchen,” Rafayel adds. You stare at Zayne– or rather, the shirt he's wearing, and he smiles fondly as he lets you take it off to add it to the nest. You pull Sylus towards that spot, and they realize you've made an area for sleeping and another for fucking as you settle on top of him.

“Oh, come on, my cooking has gotten better.” Which is true, with your help, he's been getting much better. But the rest don't know that, they only remember the times he made the kitchen blow up. You're the only one who doesn't side-eye him, much too focused on the feeling of Sylus's warm hands as he massages your hips.

“Angel, tell them–” he turns to you for defense and stops once he finds you purring on top of Sylus, who looks all like the smug bastard he is. Xavier ignores the look he throws their way and calls for you again, crawling over and being careful to not mess up the changes you made, “My cooking has gotten better, right?”

You don't know why he's asking that, but you nod and hum an affirmative nonetheless, much to the others' shock and dismay, “Today’s pancakes were the best you've made so far, we should try doing waffles next time.” You rub your eyes and yawn right before stretching, making a little pleased noise as you settle between Sylus and Xavier.

Rafayel whispers, “Ooh, a big stretch,” as he makes his way over. You open your eyes to find him hovering over you, “Was it good, cutie?” You nod and before you know it, you have a new, special edition, mythical, once in a lifetime, weighted blanket named Rafayel. You purr as you wrap your arms around him and leave a kiss on the top of his head.

“You’ve been letting a criminal into my–” Caleb starts, only for his spiral to be stopped with a gentle touch from Zayne.

“Don't fall asleep yet, sweetheart, we still need to talk about boundaries.” But it's already too late. Sleep is coiling around your spine like a snake, tangling itself into your bones. You still try, for him.

“Mm, I like biting… and leaving marks, I'll probably ask for you to bite me more and breed me, so there's that… you can restrain me if I go too far, just tie my wrists together or something… I don't know about anything else though, I've never… done this before.”

“You’ve never spent your heat with anyone?”

“Never had a heat before.” You correct softly, eyelids getting droopier by the second.

“Sweetie, is this your first heat?”

“Yeah, doctors said I couldn't keep suppressing it…”

Your father hadn't considered what it meant to allow Sylus into your life.

A prince from a kingdom he had wanted gone. One that had been golden until the war came.

As strong as hybrids were, they were no match for the sorcerers from the kingdom. After 4 years and little bit more of war, they had fallen. Their king and queen had been killed, their sons had been taken as prisoners of war and their people had been taken as slaves.

He hadn't considered how damning it was to “gift” him to you. Although shackled and without a home to go back to, no less powerful.

Hadn't considered that the hybrid beside you– the bunny he loved mocking and insulting by calling him your spoiled pet with nothing but good looks remaining to his name– would be the end of his life, or the royal family as it was.

He thought it funny, humiliating for the man who was once promised the title of crown prince and had led armies to war, to serve his daughter, a woman, and the first princess with no acknowledgement as the rightful heir to the throne.

Birds of a feather flock together.

He loved saying, and you would remind Sylus, again and again, with a calm whisper that showed the coldness of your fury.

Hold the anger in, breathe in it, let it fuel the fire of revenge in your veins and help build stronger walls, but do not let it blind you and cloud your judgement.

You hadn't been as foolish to underestimate the boy who had grown into a ruthless man, buried between layers of thick skin and weapons and armor. Who had seen war, who had seen the cruelest sides of the world and knew how to read people and use them to his advantage.

The key to your dreams, unwittingly handed to you by your father.

“A gift.” Your father had stated, with complete disregard for Sylus, no respect or consideration towards him, “Do with him what you will.”

You had kicked everyone out the moment you deemed it safe, ordered the maids to bring food and made him a bath yourself.

You had spoken in whispers that day, quiet confessions that he listened to without much of a hint about what his thoughts were, expressionless and still as you took it upon your hands to bathe him.

I know nothing of the way you might feel, I won't pretend like I do. I won't be foolish to think that treating you with kindness and respect will help to make you feel better and soothe the pain. I won't pretend to be benevolent, selfless or gracious, we both know better than that.

However, there is one thing I can promise you; you will get revenge. Both of us will.

That, had earned a reaction from him. A twitch from his ears, a small betrayal from his body that he had failed to contain.

It will take time, patience and perseverance. I will not lie to you, you'll want to kill everyone to get rid of them faster, and you'll have to handle being disrespected so openly. You will have to bite back your tongue and hold your anger. But, if you wish to play the long game, I shall provide everything you need.

You're not favored by the servants here, princess, how do you plan to do so?

You hadn't been shocked by his knowledge of your standing. You had merely continued to dry his long hair with a smile.

Surely, you don't think I have made it this far into my life without having my own bag of secrets.

You had given him the option to escape later that night. You had taken off his collar and the ring, put them in the bag prepared for him to escape should he choose to, and then you had gone to bed.

If you wish to escape, you can do so, I will not hold you back. It will be harder to plan while being on the run, but I have no doubt of your capabilities. You gave my father a taste of hell during the war, I'm sure you can do things greater than that.

But he had stayed, you had woken up to him already stationed, collar back in his neck and the ring back on your finger, watching over you and keeping you safe.

That had been the start of it. It only took two years for the foundation to start crumbling.

Your brothers had been the first to go as things started to collapse.

Seething behind the shadow casted by the spotlight centered on you, they had dug their graves as they hired one assassin after the other to try and kill you. Because they were greedy, insecure, pompous, incompetent bastards that didn't care about anything but themselves. They were sloppy, even when they joined forces, neither of them had thought to cover their tracks properly, and the nobles they had trusted had underestimated the both of you.

And so, they were hanged. Your mother had clung to them, begged your father to keep them alive, but laws were laws and as the emperor, he had to enforce them. You still remember the hatred in her eyes, the impotence in his, and you can't help but smile each time.

Your mother– a title she did not deserve, for she was the mistress your father had kept in hiding until your mother died– had tried to push, and push, and push for an arranged marriage. One with a man that was under her influence, to force you out of the throne because “women weren't meant to rule nations.” But your father had proven to be smarter than that, because you were the one keeping everything in order behind the scenes, and losing you meant losing his comfort.

And so, she followed suit. An unraveling of her own doing, for she hadn't been careful with the way she treated her allies nor the enemies she made, and they had come to claim their dues.

Then came your father. Even without your brothers in the way, even with your competence spelling the truth out for him, he still disapproved. Because he would’ve rather died than admit the daughter he loathed so much had been the child he'd dreamed of having for so long. Out of the two boys that came from his favored lover, the child that came from the woman he abhorred had proven to be better.

And so, die he did. With the image of you and Sylus watching the fear in his eyes leave along with his last breath.

And your sister… well, you had doted on her like her mother should've done, a child that was barely 13. She had been granted the freedom she had longed for, and now she was off studying and traveling like she always wanted.

He didn't want the throne, the confession had surprised you– maybe it shouldn't have, you knew what he was capable of, knew he could kill you within seconds. Yet, there was a softness he didn't hold with anyone else but you. Not entirely subservient, because you never treated him in such a way, but still obedient to your requests, still eager to please and satisfy you, to be used by you– he wanted you as his empress.

And now, here you were, on the throne, listening to the nobles worries and concerns while he sat beside you.

An empress and her devil of a bunny.

That was more like it.

Not because of the blood on his hands, there was blood in yours too, you weren't a hypocrite.

Not because of his ears and tail, you weren't some ignorant, blind devout who believed hybrids to be demons.

But because of that knowing glint in his eyes.

As much as you'd like to deny it, Sylus knew you like the back of his hand. Knew what buttons to push, what cords to pull, what steps to take to sneak into your mind and have you eating out of the palm of his hand.

In public, you had control over him, behind doors, he had control over you.

Your unofficial second hand, your partner in crime.

It's how you found yourself facing Luke while Kieran fucked you from behind like he was taking out all his frustrations out on you. You're kneeling on an ottoman chair between them, completely naked while they still remain mostly clothed. Their masks were discarded somewhere between all the kissing and fingering, only their belts undone with pants low enough to free their cocks.

“Look at you, so pretty like this,” Luke whispers, leaning close enough to kiss but not to touch, as per the rules. He's not currently fucking you, so he can't touch, nothing but kisses is allowed. And even with that, he's still being a little shit and teasing you.

He giggles, actually fucking giggles when you hold onto him for dear life, a little devilish and mean sound that makes you clench around Kieran harder. He's right fucking there, right in front of you, you can see his cock leaking precum but he's giving it no attention as he watches his brother fuck you.

“Kieran, look at her, doesn't she look pretty? Wouldn't she look prettier if she came?” You whine, arching your back as Kieran grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls you back and away from his twin. His thrusts don't relent, a rule you half regret implementing.

You thought it would be less tortuous if they had to keep going, if they couldn't pause and let you catch your breath, because you knew they would drag it on for hours if you gave them the chance. But it's way worse when the high is right there and you can't reach it.

“Yeah, but she would look much prettier cumming on your cock, Lukey.” He says, right before the three minute timer goes off again and it's time for another switch. You fall onto Luke when Kieran's grip relents and he pulls out, leaving you to whine out from the sudden emptiness.

“Sh, it's okay,” He soothes, cooing softly while pulling you closer, “Come here, baby” You nuzzle his neck, he responds to your affections by kissing your temple and scratching at the spot behind your ears.

He sits on the couch and you crawl into his lap as he settles into a comfortable position. He goes in slow and takes no time to start thrusting into you, but his movements are slow and deep. He takes his time as his hands roam your body in the way they couldn't before.

“So perfect, I half regret this now,” His laugh is breathless against your chest, “if only I didn't have a bet to win, making you cum over and over like this would be so fun.” He moans, his grip on your hips is bruising, you can't wait to press the marks later.

“We should do it more often.” You feel Kieran's warmth radiating against your back, “You're so close, aren't you?” he whispers and you nod, biting your lip and leaning into him.

“I know, baby,” Luke says as he picks up the pace, looking up at you with puppy eyes, his voice is deceptively sweet “you can't cum though, you promised, remember?”

“Did not.” Kieran answers for you, his chin rests on your shoulder and you grab a hold of his hair. “So it's okay if you cum, angel, you can let go for us.” He adds with a grin. Luke’s glare is instant.

“No, you can't.” His thrust is particularly harsh and it hits right on that sweet spot inside you that makes you see stars. You pull Kieran's hair in response and he groans right against your ear.

“Getting payback for earlier?” He huffs out a laugh before nuzzling your cheek, “Go ahead, pull harder.”

“Fuck, so tight,” Luke whines.

“Doesn't it feel good, angel? Don't you wanna cum for me?” You nod before shaking your head. You feel dizzy as they keep pulling at you from different sides. Luke moans under you and yanks at your tail, rubbing that spot under it that never fails to make you mewl.

“Nu-uh, you have to be good, remember?” He grabs your chin and makes you look at him, you nod as best as you can with his hold still on you. “Be good for me and don't cum, you can't, not yet.”

You whimper and sob, he pulls you closer, swallowing every little sound and gasp you make. He leaves you breathless, unable to think straight or tell where up or down is. You don't even hear the timer go off again, you just let Kieran manhandle you into lying on top of Luke, your back to his chest.

He's the one to hold you open, hands under your knees that also keep you in place.

Kieran snickers as he starts fucking you. And it's almost like they never switched spots because he picks up the pace Luke has started with, “Look at her, she's so fucked out already.”

“Poor thing,” Luke's tone is mocking, fake sympathy held for you, “your legs are shaking so much too. Look at her pretty clit, Kieran, it's so cute. Don't you want someone to touch it, sunshine? Rub circles on it and make you feel good until you cum?”

You nod with a whimper, “Please, please, I wanna cum, I wanna cum, please.”

“No.” Kieran growls. “You're not cumming on my cock, you hear me? You're gonna be patient.” He leans in to whisper in your ear, voice more softer as he makes sure that Luke can't hear him over your moans and the squelch of your pussy clinging to his cock. “Just wait a little longer, I promise you'll feel good, okay?”

You sob, clinging onto his back and scratching at it. The kisses he leaves all over your face are soft, a contrast to his harsh thrusts, it somehow soothes you.

“All you have to do is grab onto his cock when the timer goes off. I'll help you get it in, then you'll get to have him come inside you as a reward, I promise.” His forehead is against yours, and he's smiling like it's your little secret to keep. “Just a little longer.”

“What are you whispering about?” Luke breaks the moment by grazing his teeth against your ear. The threat (read: promise) of a bite makes you mewl and tilt your head, exposing your neck even though you know he won't bite.

“How good it'll feel for her to come on your cock.” Your skin feels like it's on fire, it's torture to hold back, but Kieran said it would feel good, promised and he never breaks his promises. “You ready, baby?”

You frown at the question before it clicks, nodding deliriously as you reach under Luke's arms, looking for his cock. Then the timer goes off and the change happens in record speed. One second, Kieran's out, the next, he's pulling you down onto Luke's cock while you line it up to your entrance.

“Oh-ho, you little–” You yelp when his grip changes and he starts fucking into you. His cock hits deeper now, you can feel it kissing your cervix. His movements are getting a little sloppy, too, like he's trying not to cum.

“There you go, good girl.” You can barely reciprocate Kieran's kisses, your eyes rolling back with each of Luke's thrusts. “Now cum.”

“No, angel, please, hold it.” Luke begs, actually begs as his hips jack-rabbit into yours. Kieran's promise breaks you, and your head falls back as you cum around Luke's cock. You scream, vision going white and body shaking from the intensity of the orgasm. You squirt, all over Kieran and Luke, and Kieran cheers.

“Fuck— no.” Luke whines, and it only takes a few thrusts into you for him to follow along as your pussy milks his cock for all that it's worth. He cums with a groan, biting your shoulder as he does.

“Fuck yes.” Kieran laughs as he kisses your cheeks, your jaw, your temple. “You did so good, so well for me, sunshine.” He whispers sweet encouragements into your ear, keeps littering kisses all over your skin along with Luke.

“We got you, it's okay.” He brushes your hair away from your face, caresses your cheek and wipes away the drool on your chin before pecking your lips. Luke nuzzles your neck before nibbling at it softly and sucking a mark into the skin. He sighs before letting go of your legs, Kieran catches them and massages your hips.

“So…” Kieran starts once Luke's arms have settled around your waist, “I won.” He smirks, smug and proud; Luke grumbles, pouty and sulky against the crook of your nape.

“Shut up, let me enjoy this.”

You're still blinking the spots out of your sight when you catch sight of his hard cock. “Wanna make you cum too” you say, reaching for it. He intercepts your hand and kisses your knuckles.

“It's okay, sweetheart, you don't have to, you’ve already–”

“Gimmeee,” you whine, pout fully out now that you've been softened by that earthquake of an orgasm, “Don't I deserve a treat for giving you what you wanted?”

You feel Luke snickering under you, giggling as he rubs his nose against your neck. He stops snickering when you raise your legs again and hold yourself open for Kieran. You don't care about Luke slipping out, or the mess that follows after, you simply stare at his brother, who stares back with his mouth agape.

“Want it inside too.”

“Fuck.” You watch him swallow, notice the way his cock twitches.

“Kieran, if you won't, I will.” Luke warns.

“Yeah, okay, fuck– okay.” He lines himself up with a free hand resting on your thigh. Both of you moan when he slips in, and you let go of one leg to pull him in for a kiss. He moans against your lips, licking and biting them as he starts moving.

“Not gonna last long, pretty girl.”

“Don’t care, just cum in me, please, fill me up.” You answer back. Luke curses and groans from under you, and you giggle before turning your head to pull him in for a kiss.

Kieran starts moving faster, sloppier, as he fondles your breasts and marks your skin. You tangle your fingers through his hair and whisper sweet nothings to him in the same way he did for you. True to his word, it doesn't take him long before he's cumming inside you and adding onto the mess.

He slumps his weight over you, but not fully, mindful to not crush you as he catches his breath.

It's quiet, comfortable. You're purring while running your fingers through Kieran's hair. The quiet stays long enough that you start to feel sleepy, with their bodies pressed so close to yours.

“M’hungry.” You mumble after a while, yawning the moment you finish talking. Both of them stop leaving innocent kisses over whichever area they can reach to stare at each other. Luke makes many offers, going for food, calling the chef, Kieran's cooking. Kieran huffs but says nothing otherwise, focused on cleaning you up before he can pick you up and carry you towards the bathroom.

You want to nap with them too, both of them.

“Nap first, then food.” You say, once all three of you are clean and dressed. You pull them both toward the bed and settle right in the middle. They follow along with soft smiles.

You fall asleep the fastest, encased in their warmth, one twin on each side and limbs tangled together. They take a while to join you— a mental conversation that turns into whispers of unfinished sentences once you fall asleep and one that never gets finished as your gentle purring lulls them in turn.

There's a ticklish feeling between your legs, right at your pelvis. Your underwear works as a barrier from it, so you can't tell what it is. You know the touch is light, tracing, drawing shapes that you can't make sense of, moving downwards before coming back up.

You shift your legs a little, opening them more, but make no other move as sleep's unrelenting grip pulls you back under.

The touch continues, still light, but with your quiet consent it doesn't stop its descent. Little circles over your flaccid cock, from one side to the other as it moves down. It doesn't stop at the base, it goes all the way down to your balls, and then back up it goes.

The movement is lazy, unhurried and slow, stimulant enough to bring attention but not enough to bother you– it's not intense enough to wake you and keep you with him.

It's oddly comforting, and it doesn't help with your fight to stay up instead of falling back asleep.

Are you even asleep? You can't tell anymore, your dreams have always been vivid.

Fingers dip closer to your entrance, trace around it without going in. Then they go back up to trace gentle, barely there circles on your perineum. Your hips twitch towards it, the pressure isn't gratifying enough.

The mischievous chuckle beside you is deep and rich; it melts you further in place. You hum softly and cuddle closer to the warmth beside you, still sleepy, still barely there, still unable to tell between dream and reality.

You feel lips against your temple before fabric is pulled aside and a lubricated finger breaches your entrance. It pulls a soft little sigh from you, and he can't help but think you're adorable. How receptive to him you are, even while asleep. His chest swells up with pride, with love, because you trust him this much to be completely relaxed and unworried.

“So perfect for me, baby.” He whispers to himself and starts fucking you with it, slowly, like he's got all the time in the world. And when you relax further around his fingers, he adds another one with more lube. That addition pulls a sleepy gasp from you, a subtle hitch in breath he wouldn't have noticed if he wasn't paying attention. The hum and clench around his fingers that follow makes his cock throb against your thigh, but he ignores it in favor of seeing how much farther he can push it before you wake up.

One of your hands shoots up, jerky and stuttery in its movements as it sneaks under his clothes, before fingers wrap loosely around his cock. You give one faint squeeze around the head, and he considers you might be awake, eyes closed and all, but you make no other movement. The next breath he takes is shaky, mouth against your shoulder as he leaves a kiss there.

His fingers resume the movement inside you. The pace slowly picks up, along with the pressure and soon enough, he's watching– in awe and in love– as your hips start chasing after his fingers. He stares, takes in every detail. The slight frown on your face, the light sheen of sweat, feels you clench uncontrollably around his fingers, the twitch of your abs as you cum and soil your underwear; it all makes his cock throb.

Even when you close your legs around his hand and grind into his palm, you still don't wake. He wonders what you were dreaming of, what has got you this gone into your dreams? He waits until your legs fall back open, and then he moves.

The first thing to go is your underwear, as beautiful as it looks on you, he wants it off. Wants nothing between the both of you but warmth and love and affection. Next is gently guiding you into lying on your side, your back to his chest. You go fairly willingly, curling up against him as he wraps an arm under you to keep you close.

Then go his boxers. He's more lazy with taking them off, desperate to be inside you, so he pulls them down to his thighs but doesn't kick them off. He's one handed as he spreads more lube over his cock and guides it between your ass cheeks, bites back a groan as he grinds against them. The promise of what's to come makes his sight hazy and he has to focus on keeping control.

You moan when he slides in, finally all the way home.

“So good for me, sweetheart,” He praises, because he can't help it, incapable of keeping his mouth shut when he's inside you, of keeping the words in, “taking me so well.”

He sighs against your nape and leaves open mouthed kisses there, kneads your chest and plays with your nipples in the same soft and lazy way from earlier. He knows you're awake when you shift to move and still when you find your movements limited.

“Sylus.” You call out to him and he swears he sees heaven when he hears your sleepy voice calling out to him.

“Good morning, baby,” He whispers, voice raspy with poorly held back desire. And god, isn't it so hot to have it so close to your ear? Good fucking morning indeed.

He rises to fully see you, and leans to kiss you, saving you the hassle of twisting your body to look at him. He kisses every area of your face he can reach, nose, eyelids, forehead, cheeks and finally, your lips.

The kiss is slow, languid, and filled with things left unsaid, things neither of you need to say out loud. Your soft sigh against his lips makes him smile and he can't help pulling away to look at you.

“Dream of anything?” He nuzzles his nose against yours before trailing off to kiss your cheek, all the way down to your neck.

“Had a fun one.” He hums, a hand reaching down to caress your thighs, your stomach, your ribs, “It was a little weird, but still fun and cool.”

“What was it about?” One of his fingers rounds your areola, touch feather-light as it keeps swirling inwards until it reaches your nipple. He flicks it once, before pinching and pulling. You arch into it, mouth falling open with a gasp.

“Sweetie, answer the question.” He reminds with a whisper, teeth nibbling your shoulder in warning.

“I was… somewhere– a spaceship.” You blink, frowning as you try to pick up the sand like pieces of your dreams while he keeps distracting you. “Delivering cargo for some organization. You were there too.”

“Oh?”

You whine when you feel him start to pull away.

He shushes you gently, “It's okay, sweet boy.” before thrusting back in. His thrusts are slow, deep and toe curling. You can't help concentrating on the feeling of the slow drag of his cock against your walls.

“Keep going, sweetness, why was I there?”

You huff in frustration, “I don't know, I think the cargo was for you.” You moan at the change of angle, and grip onto his forearm like your life depends on it. Every drag of his cock against your sweet spot makes your eyes roll and stars burst behind your eyelids.

“What happened after?”

“Ah– after what?” You clench around him and he groans.

“After you dropped the cargo.” As unaffected as he tries to sound, his breathing starts picking up. You're so warm around him, clenching on him like a vice, so perfect and soft.

“You– you took me to your office and–” Your combined moans take over as ambiance for the room, along with the squelch of your pussy as it clings to his cock. The claps of your skin start to join in the melody as your moans rise in pitch. He furrows his brows, groans with the effort to keep the rhythm steady– to not let go and move his hips faster, harder.

“And?” He hides his face in your neck, nuzzles the skin there and keeps you moored to him, arms coiled around you like a clingy octopus.

“You were… being a little shit, as usual,” he can't help but chuckle at your choice of words. It sends a wave of shivers down your spine, tingling all the way down to your cock, “kept walking around a-as if you were a vulture and cornered me against the– fuck– the desk.”

“Oh no,” you can feel his grin against the crook of your shoulder. He's not even trying to hide it, not in his voice and not in his actions, “What else did I do?” One of his hands starts snaking down your stomach, the back of his nails raking softly down your skin and leaving goosebumps behind as they go. “I couldn't have possibly done–” his hand wraps around your cock and starts pumping it to the same pace as his thrusts– “something like this?”

Your consequent moan makes him throb inside you, and you can't help the way your hips buck.

“Sylus, please.” You whine. You're close, he can tell, can feel you clench around him like a vice, feels the way your back arches away from him, sees the way your hips move.

He still decides to be a little shit about it, “Please what, sweetie? Use your big boy words.”

“Wanna cum.”

“Yeah? Don't want me to stop?” He hums at your string of ‘yes’s and nibbles at your earlobe, “Go ahead, sweet thing, come for me,” hisses when you pull at his hair, “Let me feel you.”

You come with his name on your lips, and his voice whispering sweet nothings on your ear, eyes rolling to the back of your head and your sight going crazy with colors.

“Fuck, where do you want it, sweet prince?” He's breathless, desperate for release but still holding back for you.

“In, inside, please, please, please.” That's all it takes for him to follow. His hips slam once, twice, before he's buried as far as he can go inside you and cumming. He groans into your neck, biting at the skin as his hips still.

It's quiet for a while, where both of you spend the time catching your breaths. He licks at the teeth marks and kisses them before trailing a path of kisses down to your shoulder. You're the one to break the peaceful silence by stretching out of his hold and turning your body towards him with a grin.

“Good morning, Sy.”

"It's okay," you whisper, staring into his eyes. His expression looks troubled, like he doesn't know whether to be elated or not, restraint written all over his features as he stares into your eyes. It's okay, really, and you'll help him see that. 

"You can look," you brush his hair away from his eyes, before caressing his cheek, a subtle way of making sure he won't look away from you. "You can touch too" You add, before taking one of his hands and nuzzling your face into his palm. His breath hitches when you kiss it, but he makes no other move. Your insides twist with impatience, and you have to hold yourself back from clenching your thighs as the pool of desire turns deeper. 

"Want me to guide you?" You move his hand down, stopping at your neck for a few seconds. You tilt your head to expose it, shivering at the warmth and the texture of the callouses in his hand. 

"You can leave marks here, bites too," you smile, breathless as you push his hand against your collarbone. His eyes follow the path you're drawing on your body and he gulps. 

Finally, finally you have him where you want him, where you need him. You're going to enjoy every second of it. 

You move his hand lower, and you make him cup your breast, "You can play with my tits," there's a slight twitch to his fingers and you grin, another wall down. 

"Grab my waist and squeeze to keep me in place," you go lower, pressing his hand to emulate a firmer grip. He's more responsive then, hand a little lighter and fingers less stiff. He shifts closer and you move his hand lower.

"You can mark me up anywhere, really, I wouldn't mind" you lean towards him and pull his arm, you stop looking at his face to look at your legs as you make him caress your thigh. His hands are so big that they make yours look smaller. As you stare at the goosebumps his fingers left in their wake, the fire in your bones burns brighter. You've wondered many times how his fingers would feel inside, how far they would reach, and tonight you'll get to feel it.

"Pipsqueak–" whatever he was going to say gets lost in the night as you move his hand between your legs, making him cup your mound. You can feel yourself dripping, wetter than you've ever been, and that only fuels the fire even more.

You look back at his eyes as you push two of his fingers between your folds and into your clit. You don't hold back your moan then, grinding your hips on his hand. It feels so good, better than you imagined, and you make sure to tell him so. There's a pained look on his face, and it makes you smile. 

Break for me, baby, I'll patch you back up.

His breathing is heavy, strained, it stutters to a stop when you guide his fingers to your entrance. You're forced to open your legs, bending a knee to accommodate and allow better access. 

"Can't you feel how wet I am for you? How much I want it?" It's a little hard to push his fingers inside, considering the position he's in, but the sweet feeling of his fingers being inside you makes up for it. You hold his hand there as you move your hips, fucking yourself on his fingers, and it feels a little humiliating to do everything yourself while he's quiet, but you're too gone to care. If anything, it makes the hunger worse, he's letting you use him. His hand is completely still, fingers straightened as he watches you. 

You bite your lip and raise a hand, you trail a soft caress from his chest to his neck, where you pull him closer to you. He's pliant in your hands, following your every lead as you make him look at you. When he looks into your eyes, you can see more cracks forming; you can see the lust, the love, the devotion. His beautiful purple eyes turning darker.

"I need it, Caleb, need you." You rub your nose against his before kissing the corner of his mouth, softly biting his bottom lip after "Don't you wanna make me yours?" 

That's all it takes for him to finally break. 

His fingers curl inside you the moment his lips are on yours, and you moan against his mouth. A high pitched sound that he greedily swallows down as he pushes you into the mattress. It takes no time for the kiss to deepen, for him to leave bites and marks on your neck as he fingers you, leaving you scrambling and gasping for air. 

"This what you want?" The pace he sets is relentless, and you can barely keep your eyes open as you nod, biting your lip as you squirm under him, legs open for him to settle between. "Answer me."

"Yes! Fuck, pleease, yes!" Your hands go to his hair, and you feel him chuckle against your collarbone before biting the skin there. You whimper when he tongues every indent left by his teeth, and shiver at the predatory look on his eyes. His fingers take no time finding the spot inside of you that makes you see stars, and your mouth falls open in a silent moan. 

"Look at you, so eager for me," you whimper when he licks one of your nipples, his free hand stimulating the other. He nibbles softly on it before suckling, timing his movements with each time his fingers pressed into you. He groans before switching to the other one, leaving a trail of saliva and bite marks as he went. There's the sound of squelching and you can't bring yourself to feel embarrassed about anything at all, not even bothering to hide your desperation.

"Caleb," you moan, arching into his touch, "feels so good, please don't stop, please." 

"How am I supposed to say no when you call out for me like that?" He murmurs, but there's something hidden in his voice, you'd be able to pay more attention to it if he wasn’t trying to finger you senseless. He shushes you, kissing you gently, the contrast making you warm inside. He whispers sweet encouragement to you as you near the edge, makes you believe he won't stop, only to leave you gasping for air when he pulls away completely. 

"Why?" You whine, chasing after him only to be weighed down by his evol. You whine again, feeling completely betrayed and empty, your pussy clenching around nothing. In this current predicament, you're not even allowed to reach the edge by yourself, since your hands are pinned to the bed. You can't even stay mad, it's hot, it turns you on and you've never wanted him so badly in your life. 

"You're so mean," He doesn't answer, ignores the pitiful look you give him and simply makes you stare as he undresses like he has all the time in the world. You sigh, all the real estate skin you could be touching and marking right now and he's being a big fucking meanie. Your mouth goes dry when his boxers are finally off. You knew it was big, you'd felt it against your thigh and caught glimpses of it before, it still didn't stop the delighted chill that went through your body.

You look up when you hear him snicker, frowning as he grabs your ankle and pulls you towards him "You're so desperate, it's adorable," there's a mocking edge to his voice, and you're surprised with how it makes you flush. It's embarrassing, but at the same time so hot. The conflicting emotions swirl inside of you, mixing into an addicting concoction that throws you into a haze.

"Nu-uh, look at me, princess." He grabs your chin with his free hand, "Keep your pretty eyes on me, 'kay?"

"Okay," he kisses you as a reward, keeps it from getting deeper in a way that makes you want for more.

"Atta girl, you're a fast learner," he praises and the hand that held your ankle trails up your leg, touch reverent and light, making you shiver with goosebumps. He spreads your legs open and taps his cock against you clit, groaning softly before grinding against your folds. His hips move slowly as he teases you, the head of his cock catching against the bundle of nerves. His hands roam your body, the same way as before, and you can't help seeking his hands with yours as you arch into his touch. Your eyes close, and he must be feeling generous because he says nothing about it.

"So beautiful," you hear him whisper, one of his hands trails upwards and stops at your neck for a brief second, lightly squeezing your pulse points before carrying on. You open your eyes when he caresses you cheek, his are already staring at you, and the look of utter devotion and wonder in them squeezes your heart. You hold his wrist when you nuzzle his palm, and you lick at his thumb when it caresses your bottom lip, all while staring into his eyes. The look in his eyes turns dark, and it makes you bolder, more greedy. You part your mouth and suck his thumb, your tongue swirls around the pad of it as if it was the tip of his cock.

"Who knew you could be such a slut," you moan at his harsh words and grind harder against his cock. You're close, awfully close, it's the fastest you've ever gotten to the edge.

"Oh, you like that? Like being called a whore?" He chuckles, pulling his hand away and using his thumb to draw teasing circles on your clit. "You're so filthy, baby" he tuts. You wrap your legs around his waist and yank him foward. It happens so fast that he loses his balance, and just like that, he slips inside and you come from the stretch alone, moaning his name as your orgasm wrecks its way through your body like an earthquake.

"You– shit, you're squeezing so tight. Did you just come, baby? Just from that?" You moan and nod, grinding yourself into overstimulation on his cock. You pull him closer and hiss at the feeling of the cold metal of his dog tags on your chest, but you ignore it in favor of kissing him. He's forced to prop an elbow beside your head so he doesn't crush you with his weight –not that you'd mind anyways, you've imagined him restraining you or putting you in a mating press so many times now that you can't even keep track.

"Sneaky little minx," he bites at your jaw and you pull him closer, wanting the warmth of his skin against yours. He hoists you up and crawls into bed with you in his arms, and you squeal when the angle and movement shoves him even deeper inside, "So needy, coming from just my cock."

He lays you down gently, using one of his pillows to put under your lower back. Your giggle turns into a moan when he gives an experimental thrust and your back arches off the bed. His movements start gentle, making sure you're completely used to his cock before he hooks your knees on his elbows and holds you in a mating press while fucking you. It's a harsh pace, and you can barely keep your eyes straight as he continues to burry himself inside of you, hitting all the good spots.

"Mhm, 'm such a- ah, whore, aren't I?" You bite your lip as you smile, clinging to his biceps and digging your nails into his skin. The pain makes him groan and, being as ceroed in on his cock as you are, you feel him twitch, "Just a little cock hungry slut." Your smile is crooked, with edges where they shouldn't be and dazed eyes that barely focus.

You grab at his necklace, hold the dog tags between your fingers and pull. It's his turn to shiver as he pays attention to the look in your eyes. It’s hungry, just as dark as his, if not more "But only for yours," you raise the same hand to hold his neck, tags held against his adam apple. You don't squeeze, but you do press at his pulse with your thumb. You feel him twitch inside you and your grin turns sharper. Your arms wrap around his shoulders like a snake on a hawk, and he's got no other option but to adapt to the position while fucking you. It's so much better and so much worse, he can feel your pert nipples against his chest, your moans and gasps closer and clearer.

"You'll give it to me, right baby? I need it." You bite his earlobe, and his thrusts get harsher, like he's trying to render you quiet and mindless. Or maybe he wants to see what else you'd say in this pleasure driven state. Whatever the case, it only makes you more ravenous and that, makes him more ravenous in turn. Like you're two beasts, feeding of each other in a never ending loop of pleasure and madness.

"S-shit, yeah, baby, it's all yours to keep" your nails scratch at his back as he keeps up with the relentless pace, and you swear you're seeing stars.

"Don't stop, don't you dare fucking stop," you commanded, glaring at him as best you could while he pounded into you. Praise and encouragement slipped from your tongue as he kept the pace, all amidst broken moans and gasps.

He felt so good inside you, looked so good on top of you, his moans sounded so fucking hot, you wanted– no, needed to keep him, probably even more than he wanted to keep you.

"Mine," you whispered, moving a hand to his head and tangling your fingers into the strands before pulling to expose his neck. You bit into his skin, licking the teeth marks and sucking marks along his neck as a silent apology, "all fucking mine, right Caleb?"

"Fuck, yes, princess. 'M all yours."

That's all you could think of, a never ending string of "mine, mine, mine" over and over, paired with each of his thrusts. It rose along with your pleasure, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

"So fucking deep," you gasped, "So fucking good," your moans got louder, the pitch higher and in response, he moved faster. All of his focus was on you, he could tell you were close, your tell tale signs already memorized from when he'd fingered you. It drives him mad, drives him into grinding deeper, into letting go of one of your legs to circle your clit with his thumb, looking down to where your bodies connect and groaning as he sees his cock disappear inside of you.

"You're fucking perfect, pipsqueak, you know that?" He noses your neck, and revels in the way you instantly tilt your head to grant him access, "Perfect pussy, taking so fucking well and squeezing me so tight. You'll come for me, right pretty girl? Cream all over my cock?"

"If I do, you'll cum inside, right? Fill me up with your cum?" You were close, you were so fucking close and so was he. He'd almost cum just from you asking, but he wanted you there first, needed to feel you clamp down on him.

"Yeah, baby, I'll fill you up." That was all you needed to come, nails digging into his back and your body shaking under him as you had the hardest orgasm of your life. Your mouth fell open in a silent scream, eyes rolling back and head swirling with thoughts of Caleb. He's doesn't take long to follow you into the high, with a gasp of your name as he burries himself deep in you and grinds as he cums. You moan at the warm feeling, your fingers easing on his back. You scratch softly at his nape and he lets go of your leg. You wrap them around his waist to keep him there, and he switches to supporting his weight so he doesn't crush you as both of you gasp for breath.

You're on your way to fall asleep when he rises and pulls out, staring as his cum oozes and drips out of your pussy. You don't get a warning before two of his fingers are fucking it back into you.

"Caleb" you drawl out the last syllable, pouting as you watch him. He hums and looks back at you, with a smile that pretends to be innocent but is nothing like. You huff, roll your eyes and pull him into a kiss. It's slow and sensual, both of you taking the time you want without the desperation from earlier tainting the kiss. He makes you cum again like that, and then cleans both of you up before changing the bed sheets and kissing you goodnight.

When you wake up, it's to gentle caresses and kisses, all from Caleb. He's lying beside you, shirtless, with a soft smile and a fond look.

"Caleb," you call out, just because you can and you want to, before grabbing his hand and pulling him closer. You nuzzle into his neck before kissing the skin, all the way up to his jaw, ending the trail with a kiss on his mouth. You shiver when his arm wraps around your waist, enjoying the warmth of his skin against yours, and you bite his lip before soothing the sting with a lick.

"Good morning," There's the smell of food in the air and your hips and lower back hurt, but you don't pay any mind to it.

It's a blessing and a curse.

It means it's hard to kill you– a weed that will continuously grow no matter how many times you uproot it. You'll adapt and overcome, take in whichever form necessary to survive, over and over again, whether you want to or not. You will survive. Like a phoenix. Like a true human weapon.

It means people want your power.

People like Ever, who will stop at nothing, the same people who experimented on you in the search for immortality.

You get out of the tub and grab a towel, making quick work to dry yourself and get ready for the night– or well, day ahead. You never know in the n109 zone, it's easy to forget with the constant darkness.

. . . . .

There's blue eyes staring at you.

They're beautiful and captivating, you want to get lost in them and never come back out.

Oh, how you wish to drown.

. . . . .

There's a song that you've always hummed as you went on your missions. A song that gave you the reputation you have now. "A phantom with a siren like voice that leads you to your death" people warn.

You don't mind it.

You've never felt like yourself anyways, only a ghost floating around, unable to leave.

You didn't even realize you were humming it, at first, until Sylus pointed it out on your first partnered mission. You'd shrugged before finishing the job, giving a simple "I don't know, it's always been with me," for an answer.

He'd accepted it with no questions asked and the topic had been dropped, forgotten into the darkness of the night.

. . . . .

Endless blue. You're surrounded by it.

You can hear children's laughter and a voice narrating a story. You stay and watch from afar, taking the time to enjoy the sight before it's too late.

You wonder if you'll ever find him, if you'll ever meet again. If he remembers.

You hope he does.

Oh, how you want to drown.

. . . . .

You find him in an auction.

All you catch is a glimpse of purple hair, but you know it's him. You'd recognize him anywhere, from any angle. How could a devout follower not?

Sylus takes one look at you and that is all he needs to know.

"It's him."

You don't need to answer.

It's him.

Later that night, you reveal one of your cards to Sylus.

"Would you believe me if I said that I know someone from a past life?" You blurt out on your way back to the mansion.

It takes him a few seconds for him to answer and when he does, he takes you by surprise, "Yes."

You get to see a side of him that not even the twins have seen, one you're not sure you'd ever see.

He looks tired, but not his usual tired. It's soul tired, like centuries have been taken from him when he sits down. You get to know one of his secrets, memories of a past life shared with miss hunter, just like you and Rafayel.

You bond over the shared problem, even if the variables and solutions to it are completely different.

Two peas in a pond, destined to die at their lover's hands. You feel a little bit less alone.

"I guess you can say we're friends now." You pat his back and smile at his unimpressed stare, saying nothing else as you turn to leave to your room.

You try not to think about how it's the first time you've smiled in years. The motion feeling wrong after so long.

. . . . .

You shouldn't.

You really shouldn't, but you don't have anything else to do. Not like you have better examples anyways, with the way Sylus sends Mephisto to his little miss.

You watch him from afar. Alternating between staring at his paintings and watching him interact.

He looks even more beautiful than last time.

You follow him. Carefully and without raising suspicion. You never approach him, simply watch.

He's with the little miss and the smile he gives her makes you green with envy.

Oh, how you need to drown.

. . . . .

You've made a habit of it.

The twins call it stalking, but you call it shadowing. Ever so in denial.

You do it when you're free, when the sea lets up and doesn't tug at the heart.

It's to keep him safe, you lie to yourself, knowing he's more than capable enough.

For backup, just in case things go wrong. They never do, he's always in control, always steps ahead.

You wish you would come closer, but you never find the right time. Opportunities pass you by as you overthink. You've met the little miss' eyes a few times, acknowledged her when she recognized you. Each time, you leave before she can do anything about it. As if you were delegating your job.

A job he didn't ask you to take.

. . . . .

You make eye contact with him through the glass of a shop. It's sudden and unplanned, you don't get to hide behind something or someone.

Blue and pink eyes, staring into your soul, throwing you into an endless, calming blue. It feels like the breath was knocked out from your lungs and simultaneously put back in.

You're thankful she's with him, because you need to run and hide. It keeps him from chasing you.

It's finally happened, he knows. You wonder how long you'll get to run before he finds you. You won't be able to hide, you've seen what he can do.

You just hope you're ready for when it's your turn.

Oh, how you long to drown.

. . . . .

Miss hunter makes it to the n109 zone with his help.

You avoid her like the plague.

He'll close in at any second now, you can feel him right around the corner.

You'll never be ready.

Running from her is easier, you just ask Sylus for a vacation. He doesn't ask why, simply grants it.

You go to a villa near the beach. The ocean's call is stronger there, but it calms you instead of driving you restless.

. . . . .

You make the mistake of lowering your guard when miss hunter goes back to Linkon.

You're completely in your element, fighting the men without breaking a sweat. You're too focused to notice who the owner of the gaze you feel on you is.

You come face to face with him when you're done, his back against a wall, your dagger just a few centimeters away from his neck and his own against your chest, right where your heart is.

He's supposed to be with miss hunter, not in this alleyway with you.

Your gasp is unbidden and you stumble back as you pull away, dropping your dagger to the floor like it burned you.

He's beautiful, always been. Divine, otherworldly, enchanting. No word in any language would be enough to describe his beauty.

There's recognition in his eyes. He crouches to pick up your dagger, a poor imitation of his old one.

"I finally found you, my beloved bride."

Will you finally get to drown?

Xavier

— Lots of praise, that man does not shut up with his praise. Can sometimes ask for praise too, he'll go from "You're such a good girl for me" to "Does it feel good, angel? You like how I fuck you?"

— Doesn’t make much noise beside gasping, but his dirty talk? The best out there.

— Possessive, this one is one we can all agree on.

— Would fuck you in public, the only thing stopping him from doing that is you. Unless you give an inkling of being into that, then nothing is stopping him from doing it.

— Overstimulation and multiple orgasms. Doesn't matter who cums how many times, it's happening, although he does prefer it when it's you who is overstimulated.

— Pussy jobs, he likes those, and also likes fucking your thighs. Yes, there's lots of cum to clean up afterwards.

— Will mark you up, you're gonna look like you got mauled by the time he's done with you.

— There's no favorite position, he's gonna do most of– if not all of them.

— Mostly a pillow prince when you peg him, and you know what's even worse? The fact that he cries while you do it. No, I will not allow any questions on this.

— Likes his bj's wet and messy. Honestly, he just likes making a mess out of you.

Zayne

— Prefers the bed but is not averse to fucking you in: the couch, his office, his car, the kitchen and the kitchen floor or the dinner table.

— One time he came in his pants while kissing you and still does it when you decide to be mean and tease him relentlessly.

— Gets pussy drunk and teary eyed when you ride him, yessiiir.

— Can get vocal, but not necessarily loud. He looks like he'll try to be quiet but a few grunts and gasps will still escape through. Also, his facial expressions? *chef's kiss* he will look at you like you hung the moon, the starts and created everything that exists.

— Bondage, goes both ways but he especially enjoys when you're the one that's tied up.

— Enjoys when you leave hickeys on his collarbones. Neck is not allowed because ✨️ privacy ✨️ but oh, does he love knowing that they're there.

— Plays with your boobs like there's no tomorrow.

— Lots of fingering just because. He'll give you two orgasms with just his fingers before fucking you.

— Secretly likes it when you manhandle him a little.

— Has a Sir or daddy kink for sure, one of both.

Rafayel

— Bite marks your nape every chance he gets.

— Loves fucking your tits.

— He is vocal, you cannot fuck him in public cause he'll get you guys caught. I'm talking: whines, moans, gasps, grunts. Dirty talk? More like babbles, just a string of words that never fully connect.

— Beach sex, uh-huh, specially at night. Matter of fact, loves fucking you while being in the water, doesn't matter if it's a river, lake, beach, pool or bathtub.

— Has asked for you to be his nude model so many times and 8/10 he says "fuck it" and fucks you right then and there.

— Edging and overstimulation, especially when you do it to him, he's addicted.

— You pegged him once and now it happens every once in a while. Also, he totally has a sensitive prostate, he'll cum from just the stimulation alone.

— Remember how quick he was to call mc "master"? And how into being collared he was? Yeaaah, those are going in the kink list.

— ROLEPLAY, ROLEPLAY IS ALSO GOING IN THERE.

— Likes it when you put your hand around his neck and simply hold it there.

Sylus

— Loves taking his time with you and making you beg for him.

— Lots of whispering in your ear, lots of praise and teasing.

— Pain and biting kink and you cannot convince me otherwise. Loves it when you bite him and leave scratches on his back.

— Not really a fan of doing it in public, likes being the only one that sees you in that vulnerable state.

— Collars and chains. Sometimes he gets rough when you collar him up and put him on a leash because he knows that's what you want and other times he just worships you even more.

— Spanks you from time to time.

— Miiiirrrooooooors. If he's going to fuck you from behind, there has to be a mirror in front of you. Hell, sometimes he'll put you on his lap and put a mirror in front of you so you see yourself while he fingers you senseless.

— Remember that about taking his time? Yeah, he'll edge you while doing that. And when you do get to cum, he'll overstimulate you for a little bit.

— Loves it when you pull his hair, idk why, don't ask me no questions.

— Chokes you only when you ask him to. The first time he double and tripple checked your were okay with it, and even them, it still took him a while to be as rough as you wanted him to be.

Caleb

— Vocal, but unlike Rafayel, he can keep quiet. Nights of jacking off in the shower at grandma's house have trained him for that.

— Will make it hard for you to stay quiet, likes it when you're loud.

— Switchy Mcswitch, loves when you dominate him just as much as he loves dominating you.

— Free use kink, he wants you to use him whenever and wherever.

— An absolute tease, he will use your weaknesses against you. Whichever it is, hands, arms, back, thighs, uniform; he will rile you up just to rile you up.

— Gives you what you want: Rough and hard? Coming right up. Slow and gentle? Sure thing. Whether it's degradation or praise, he shall deliver, the motto is “Ask and you shall receive.”

— The choking goes both ways, but he likes it more when you do it to him. Something about you matching his freak makes him nuts.

— There's no such thing as quickies for him. Depending on the day and the mood, he'll either edge or overstimulate you. You either get a bunch of orgasms before he has his first one or you only get to cum after he does, and he doesn't make it easy for you to obey.

— I don't think this would turn him on all the time but: likes dressing you up. If it's a date, he'll pick your outfit, sometimes do your hair and even your make up. But when it's a random day, he'll come with bags of clothes for you to model.