·······•✦ description: In which; your vampire boyfriend keeps pushing off your worry for him, but when you find him incredibly weak in bed, you figure out exactly what he needs... And you want to give it to him...
·······•✦ pairing: afab!eader x xavier
·······•✦ word count: 4k
·······•✦ genre: smut, porn with plot, fluff
·······•✦ general tags: Vampire!Xavier, Vampires, Canon Compliant, Still canon compliant, Only difference is vampires lol, Established Relationship, Fluff, Smut, Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Blood Drinking, Xavier is Hungry, Biting, Marking, Cunnilingus, Teasing, Pleasure from Blood Drinking, Multiple Orgasms, Sexual Overstimulation, Penis In Vagina Sex, Vaginal Sex, Squirting and Vaginal Ejaculation, pussy eating, Aftercare, Creampie, POV Second Person, No Use of Y/N for Reader-Insert, Missionary Position, Sitting In Lap, Dirty Talk, Pet Names - starlight & princess
·······•✦ posted on: ao3
The first time you notice the pale tone to Xavier’s skin, he brushes it off with a simple excuse that he’s tired. Knowing what he is, the thought comes to your mind of the other things that could be going on, and you get the inkling that there’s something else than just mere exhaustion.
The second time you see the glassy glow and slightly damp expanse of his skin, you know there’s something more than meets the eye.
His apartment is at a comfortable temperature, but it’s the rise and fall of his chest, paired with the way his lips part in stuttered breaths, that has you crossing your arms, giving him a raised-eyebrow stare. “Xavier.”
“Starlight,” Xavier responds in a gentle murmur, one hand resting over his eyes.
He’s lying back on his bed, his robe half-opened to reveal the toned expanse of his chest that is glistening with a light sheen of sweat. With one hand under the pillow, he looks at you with furrowed brows.
“This isn’t just exhaustion.” The way you continue the argument—which isn’t even an argument, just you telling him an observation—leaves Xavier no choice but to drop his hand over his eyes. The hand under the pillow slips out to lie beside his head, and the other rests weakly on his half-clothed abdomen. Even his breathing is slow, and worry ebbs into your voice. “I can grab some medicine or something for you after wo-”
“I’m thirsty.” He cuts you off, not liking the tense deepness of his voice, nor the way you stare at him with wide eyes.
“Huh?” You don’t catch it the first time, his voice too quiet for you to hear through your own rambling. Dropping your arms, you chew on your bottom lip.
“I’m… thirsty,” Xavier repeats, his eyes closing as if he didn’t want to see the emotion he expects to cross your face. Throughout the year you’ve been dating, you know about his vampirism, but all Xavier expects to see when he looks at you are the emotions he’s always seen.
Disgust. Horror. Anger.
But your expression remains neutral. As if he just told you he needed a simple glass of water instead of the alternative.
“Oh.” Unsure of what to say next, you step closer, sitting on the edge of his bed. Although he doesn’t outwardly flinch away, you catch the almost imperceptible tightening of his jaw. “Well…”
Silence fills the air, your eyes running along his features. He looks dead. His lips are parted and chapped, his skin pale, and his chest rising and falling slowly with his uneven breaths. It worries you, and while you’re unsure of exactly how to help him, you want to come up with some sort of solution.
“Is there… is there anything I can do to help?” Your hand reaches out to touch his bicep as it rests across his abdomen, and a shiver shocks your system. He’s cold. He’s always warm… Always a personal heater that helps you in the winter months with cuddles under a plush blanket. Now, he’s like a corpse. “You’re cold.”
Xavier pauses, twitching at just how hot you feel compared to the chill that’s settled in his bones. He can’t even remember the last time he had to drink blood, but the hunger that itches in his stomach is a sense of discomfort that he can’t recall feeling. It doesn’t help that you—warm and alive—are sitting right next to him.
You, whom he’s spent the better part of two years next to. You, who remind him that he’s more than the label that many associate with vampires. You, who loves him despite all of the tumultuous realizations you’ve come to when learning about him, and doesn’t stop demanding nothing but the truth.
Xavier knows he can’t lie. You can read him like your favorite book. So he takes a deep breath, shaking his head. “I don’t— It’s been a long time— since I’ve had to feed.” He whispers, almost embarrassingly. “I can usually control my hunger with human food… You know my preference for meat.”
Humming, your thumb absentmindedly rubs at his skin in an attempt to calm him down. He’s explained before that he’s never hungry for blood, that his almost insatiable appetite for meat has somehow helped quell that quiet rumbling deep in his gut.
Even though Xavier tries to hide it behind humor, you can see the sleepy, half-lidded gaze that meets yours. It’s easy for him to smile, rub the back of his neck as if he’s not burning inside. However, he can’t stop the tremble in his hand that starts to wrap around your wrist.
“I’m fine,” he says, his voice a mere whisper of what it normally is. In the time you’ve been together, you’ve realized that he’s a pro at hiding his true emotions. He doesn’t give away too much, and it’s always in passing moments that he reveals the depths of his past or his actual feelings. In fact, he’s gotten infinitely better at showing just you what he needs or wants, but when faced with a hunger so deep it aches in his soul, he can’t let you see that side of him.
You can feel his muscles tense under your hold. “Bullshit.” As your eyes linger on the bulging veins in his neck, you inspect his chest with your other hand. “You’re very obviously not fine.” It takes every ounce of restraint in you not to shiver when you rest your entire palm in the middle of his chest. He’s like a block of ice, prickling at your skin until you have to pull back with a frown.
The idea of him dying over something like this sends you into a panic. He can’t die. He just can’t. “You need blood.” The end of your sentence trails off, and your hovering hand finds the edge of his open robe. It doesn’t sit right with you to let him lie here and suffer, especially when there’s maybe something you can do about it…
The answer is simple, and Xavier catches the gleam in your eye before you can voice your thought.
“No.”
“But Xavi–”
“Starlight,” his voice is a hiss now, sharp and unstable as his tremors have become. “I said no.” Xavier’s jaw is clenched so tight that you can see the muscles flinch under the resistance.
“You need blood.” You repeat, staring down at your wrist that holds the answer to his dilemma. “How else can you get it?”
He pauses, giving you enough time to sneak another thought in. “It’s not going to hurt me, is it?”
“Quite the opposite, starlight.” Xavier rubs a hand across his face. “You’ll feel good. Really good.” His Adam’s apple bobs, and you reason that he’s imagining you twisting in pleasure as he feeds from you.
“Okay…” Your eyebrow raises, not seeing the issue. “Then let’s do it. Let me help you.”
Xavier sneaks a glance, his pupils getting larger. “That’s the thing,” he mumbles, “once I get a taste of you, my instincts will take over. I don’t want to take more than you can give me.” His eyes close once again, covered by his arm as he pulls it from your grasp. “A person who hurts you doesn’t deserve to take from you.”
Slowly, giving him the opportunity to wrench away, you tiptoe your fingers up his torso. At the first touch of your index finger on his bare abdomen, he tenses, but doesn’t pull away. Actually, he welcomes the lingering warmth that sits on his skin as you make your way up his chest, holding gently to his jaw.
“What if I want this person to take from me?” The whisper sends a shiver through Xavier. “What if,” The pad of your thumb traces his jawline, “I trust that this person would never hurt me?”
Watching you with heavy eyes, Xavier drags his gaze across your face, seeing that you’re not backing down. With a sigh, he lets both of his arms fall to his sides, lingering so close to your waist but not touching.
“Go on,” you whisper, moving to straddle his waist. “Touch me.” The moment your thighs bracket his hips, you both share a soft gasp, speaking without words. There’s no mistaking the want that pulses with each beat of your heart, or the inexplicable connection when you nuzzle your nose against his. “I trust you, Xavier.”
Xavier shudders as your breath hits his lips, and your scent — god, your scent — is intoxicating. “Princess,” he lifts his head, barely grazing your mouth with his own. “Are you sure?” The whites of his eyes peek out from beneath his irises, and you find yourself leaning closer.
Before you can speak — something close to begging — Xavier dips his head down, kissing the top of your clothed shoulder. His arm wraps around you, his large palm pressing into your upper back. Stealth is Xavier’s greatest weapon, and you’re so mesmerized by his already hard cock pressing against you through his sweatpants that you don’t realize he’s hooking a finger into the collar of your shirt.
Warm lips press to your bare skin, and you cling tighter to him as he gets closer and closer to your neck. Each kiss is accompanied by a sigh, both of knowing you’re so willing to help him like this, to give him part of you, and the thought of sharing something so intimate. It’s more than sex. Deeper and more passionate. Blood is what keeps you alive, and Xavier is going to sap some of that from you.
“It’ll feel good,” Xavier whispers, his voice husky. “You might scratch me, or pull my hair.” He plants another kiss at the apex of your shoulder and neck, sucking at the skin. “Do whatever you need, starlight.”
You can’t help the natural arch into him, wanting him even closer than he already is. “Xavier.” The whimper is soft, and you’re not sure if it’s the gentle hold he has on you or the subtle grinding of his hips against yours, but you’re more than eager to have him bite you. “Please.”
“Patience,” his grip tightens against the back of your neck, anchoring you there to him. “I’ll only take a little.” The finger hooked into your shirt collar pulls a bit more, but it’s obviously become troublesome for Xavier to get a good grip on you like this. “Take this off.”
Hands clamber to throw off your shirt, and Xavier takes a moment to admire you, shirtless, in his lap. “You look gorgeous like this.” A palm cups the weight of your breast. “Like a fox caught in a bunny’s trap.” His lips wrap around one of your nipples, and you respond with a soft moan of his name. Your hand threads through his hair, cupping the back of his head in a way that’s less controlling and more reassuring.
Xavier takes his sweet time kissing up your chest, making sure to give the same attention to the other nipple, before landing right back at your neck. “Now that that’s out of the way.” He kisses the spot right below your ear, and when he speaks, it’s a sinful whisper. “Tap the back of my neck if you’re feeling lightheaded.”
“Okay,” you whisper, lips cresting the shell of his ear as he takes another weak, shuddering breath. Even as he takes another long inhale of your scent, you shiver in his grasp. He can smell the slight fear radiating from you, the hand in his hair tightening slightly as you close your eyes and relax into him.
“You’re scared,” Xavier says it so simply, pulling back to look you in the eyes. He’s so pale, with an almost translucent hue to his cheeks that means you can almost see the veins under his skin.
“Not of you,” you whisper, massaging his scalp while the other hand cups his cheek. “I’ve never done this before.” But you’re determined, tilting your head to the side in an open invite. “I’ll be okay, trust me.”
Xavier isn’t easily convinced.
In one quick motion, he’s flipping you onto your back, pressing your bare back into the sheets with a weak gentleness. You keep a steady grip on him, legs wrapped around his hips as he grinds down against you.
“No.” His tone deepens, looking down at you with such intensity that you almost melt under him. “I know a way to relax you.”
Xavier waits for your nod before dipping back down to kiss your neck. For a moment, you almost think he’s going to bite you, but he doesn’t. He moves down your bare chest, kissing over your breasts, making sure both nipples are spit-slicked and thoroughly pleasured. His mouth whispers praises across your stomach, and when he uses his teeth to tug down your shorts, you can see the sharp canines almost glinting in the light.
“You’re so gorgeous, starlight.” His hands part your knees, hooking them over his shoulders as he kisses right above the joint. “Thank you,” Xavier whispers, closing his eyes as he kisses slowly up your thigh, close to the seat of your panties. “For letting me do this.”
A sharp nip of his teeth at your thigh has your hand shooting down to thread through his hair, but his tongue immediately soothes the sting. It’s not enough to draw blood, not yet, but your answering moan of his name spurs Xavier further.
His lips press against the seat of your panties, feeling how wet you are through the fabric. “All this for me?” He teases, sitting up on his knees and toying with the waistband of your underwear. In one swoop, he’s maneuvering them off of you, leaving the only article of clothing on either of you, the sweatpants hanging low on Xavier’s hips. Where he discarded his robe, you don’t know, but as his breath ghosts over your pussy, you don’t find it in yourself to care.
“All for you,” you whimper at the first long lick through your folds that Xavier delivers, collecting your arousal on his tongue. The groan he lets out is sinful, defying the laws of heaven and hell for a taste of his angel lying under him.
“Your blood,” Xavier dips his tongue into your entrance, the tip of his nose teasing your clit. “Will not compare to how good your pussy tastes.” With his eyes closed, body nearly flat on the mattress, hips grinding down to soothe a fraction of the ache in his pants, he looks like he’s praying.
Xavier continues to feast, eating you out with a fervor that is concerning with how cold his hands are as they plant on your thighs, or the still pale complexion. Especially the labored breaths he takes when he’s buried face-first in your pussy.
“Xavier–” your thoughts are cut off when he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, being mindful of his still distended fangs so he doesn’t nick you. “Don’t, fu–ck, don’t overdo– it.” The last thing you want is for him to pass out, or worse, while you’re grinding onto his face.
He mumbles something unintelligible, not wanting to part from your essence for too long. “I’m okay,” Xavier murmurs, his breath coming out deep and slow. “I’ll be fine.” His heart is beating just a second slower, sure, but all that matters is that your thighs are closing around his head, and your fingers tug strands of silver hair out right at the root. “Come for me, princess.”
When he goes back for more, tracing the tip of his tongue around your entrance while flicking his nose over your clit, your vision blanks. All you can focus on is Xavier’s tongue everywhere, his icy cold hands anchoring you in the fire as he holds you still.
“Good girl.” You don’t register that he’s hovering over you until you can taste yourself on his tongue, slick spreading over your swollen lips as you mindlessly push at his sweatpants.
“Shhhh,” he soothes you with a final kiss, pulling back just enough so your hand doesn’t reach his bulge. “Let me do this.”
Lying back on the bed, you watch as he strips himself of his sweatpants, your ears ringing and pulsing with your own heartbeat. Blood rushes through your eardrums, and if his nipping at your thigh felt good, you can only imagine what his actual bite will feel like.
You’re so pliant that Xavier easily parts your thighs for him to settle between, the tip of his cock tracing your folds and teasing you just enough to pull a desperate whimper from you. Reaching up, you hook your arms around his neck, pulling him closer until your noses bump.
“Please,” you plead, wrapping one leg around him as you beg. “Do it.” The side of your head tilts, exposing the same expanse of skin Xavier was previously ready to sink his fangs into.
“I will,” he soothes you with a kiss to the tip of your nose, a weak smile curling at his lips as he finally, finally sinks into your warmth. “Fuck…”
You watch the emotions flicker through him as you yourself submit to the pleasurable stretch of his cock. Inch by inch, you tilt your hips up, sharing breaths until his pelvis goes flush against yours.
“Good?” He asks, studying you and listening to your heartbeat. It’s much calmer than before, no hint of fear. Instead, it’s only anticipation and a desperation to help him. “Remember… What I said earlier…” Xavier leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your pulse point. “Tap the back of my neck–”
“If I’m feeling lightheaded.” You finish his earlier ask with a sigh. “I know, I know.” Shimmying your hips, you groan when you feel just how full you are. “I’ll be okay, trust me.”
Xavier nods, his hair tickling your cheek as he nuzzles further against you. His entire body presses against yours, and there isn’t a part of you that doesn’t feel him. Not in the tips of your fingers threaded through his hair, or the tense muscles of his lower back felt by your feet digging into him.
With one long breath, Xavier bites, and your whole world explodes.
Fire and ice curl together, racing through your veins in a race to fill every part of you. First, it’s the slight sting of his teeth sinking into you, but it’s immediately coupled by prickling electricity surging across your skin, raising the little hairs on your arms in their wake.
The only thing you can manage is a soft, “Xavier”, as he drinks, your body clenching around him. Your pussy tightens around his cock, and Xavier, in turn, groans into you, his hips working in slow thrusts to help you cope with the intensity of this.
It’s intimate, more intimate than you’ve been together despite going through all of the normal couple milestones. But this is more than that. It’s about sharing life with him, and you would do it ten times over if it meant you could have your Xavier with you.
Xavier can feel your heart racing, beating through his fangs as he closes his eyes and relishes the warmth that fills him. His hands are no longer biting cold, and color returns to his once translucent cheeks.
He can barely think about anything except your pussy wrapped around his cock and your sweet blood filling his throat. It’s the greatest elixir, his own personal alcohol that will leave him dizzy and flushed with happiness. He’s never been one to drink alcohol — it doesn’t affect vampires as much as it does humans, and tastes gross — but from seeing people stumbling through alleys at night, he can guess that it’s a high like no other.
But this? This is his second favorite taste, only behind your pussy.
“Fu–ck,” your back arches into him, a sudden chill passing through you as pleasure crests to an overwhelming degree. It’s part overstimulation from your previous orgasm added to this impending one, but also heightened from whatever sensations that Xavier’s drinking does to your body. “I’m…”
You can’t finish your sentence, words fail you the moment you let your body go, transcending to another plane as you clutch at Xavier like a lifeline. His back is the perfect place to count your score, drawing lines of red over his flexing muscles as he fucks into you with each slow suck of his mouth over your neck.
It’s impossible to feel anything else but the twitching of his cock inside you, and his own muffled groans against you as he falls over the edge alongside you. He fills you to the brim, but you don’t feel the slight trickle of come leaking from you when the tips of your fingers start to run a little cold…
Xavier realizes what’s happening before you tap the back of his neck. It’s not that you’re getting lightheaded. In fact, it’s the opposite. You feel connected to everything around you, especially Xavier. His scent wraps around you, soothing you into a strange sense of safety that you haven’t felt before. Sure, you always feel safe around him, but it’s like his bite has opened doors that you didn’t know could be opened to you.
“Starlight?” Xavier cups your cheeks, staring down at you with wide eyes as he pulls out of you and frantically checks your body for signs of the worst. “Are you okay?”
You lie there for a moment, watching Xavier press his cheek against your palm and finding it slightly cold. “Mhm,” you hum, smiling at him like a patient coming back from anesthesia. “I’m great.” Your voice is weaker than before, but you’re completely coherent as Xavier runs his hands up and down your sides. “You’re warm again.”
With a sigh of relief, Xavier rests his forehead on your collarbone, listening to your heartbeat stabilize into a normal rhythm. “All thanks to you.” He kisses your sweaty skin, finding the exact spot where your very human heart reminds him how alive you are, and how fragile you can be in the arms of someone like him.
“Stay right there,” Xavier suddenly stands, slipping his sweatpants back on.
Still in the same position he left you in, you give him a weak thumbs up. “‘m not going anywhere, handsome.”
Xavier mumbles something with a blushing smile before rushing out to the kitchen. The sound of running water, rummaging cabinets, and drawers continues until he steps back into his room with a bottle of juice, a damp cloth, and a small fruit snack.
“Here.” He sets the food and drink on the nightstand, focusing first on wiping off the sticky sweat, come, and saliva from your body with gentle precision. Xavier is meticulous, and yes, he’s incredibly aroused by how beautiful you look right now, with healing bite marks on your neck, a satiated smile on your face, and trusting eyes that only look for him. However, he knows that it’s important to take care of you properly, especially after drinking so much of your blood.
“You’re the best,” you murmur through heavy-lidded eyes and a stupidly wide smile. You let Xavier prop you up on the headboard, grab one of his shirts from his dresser, and help you slip into it.
“I disagree,” he counters, sitting on the bed beside you and bringing the bottle of juice to your lips. “You’re the best girlfriend I could ask for.”
Staring at him from the corner of your eye, you flicker your gaze between him and the juice. “I can do it myself…”
“I know. But I want to do this for you.” The way he speaks, so softly and gently, but still with a stern determination, has you relenting. His other hand skims the remnants of his fangs. “These will go away in a few hours.”
You let your head fall to his shoulder, opening your mouth and chewing on the bite of food he places on your tongue. “Mmmm,” you groan in satisfaction, reaching down to squeeze his bicep. “I don’t mind them… They’re kinda bad-ass, huh? I got bit by a vampire and survived.”
“You’re so funny,” Xavier says in a monotone voice, but breaks at a small chuckle.
“But really,” you turn your head to look at Xavier, smiling at him. “I would gladly do it again, whenever you’re hungry… Especially if I get that kinda treatment.”
Xavier groans, but pecks your lips. “Of course, starlight. Whatever you wish.”
Iwatched the Xbox showcase yesterday it was actually pretty good. I'll believe the Fable launch date when it happens though lol
New Gears is pretty cool, P4 looking cool, P6 being confirmed is great. But I don't think the internet knows what 'teaser' means. I'm also pretty interested in The Lift. Good soup overall
i think the caring part of Zayne like...really appeals to Sylus. For someone who's been on his own for so long, has never really had anyone care for him at all, seeing the side of Zayne that is genuinely just so concerned for his well being would probably endear him so much. Zayne cares for him so much and once Sylus starts to grasp that? And get used to it? He's never letting that guy go.
summary: on days when he misses home, you're right by his side.
tags: established relationship, implied sexual content, kissing, homesick, gallery date, hurt/comfort, emotional intimacy, crying
wc: 2k
masterlist
Rafayel looks at the scene before him, waiting for you to get back from the bathroom.
There was an old couple helping a little girl put on her own pink raincoat. Outside, it was bucketing down and Rafayel eyes the misty grey clouds with a careful eye.
The couple must be the girls grandparents.
Something about watching the scene tugs at Rafayel heart. Somewhere deep.
“You ready to go fishie?” You appear beside Rafayel and thread an arm through his.
“Y-yeah, of course cutie.”
Your eyes fly to look at his face.
“What’s wrong?” You ask. Not that he’d tell you what was wrong outright. But you were getting good at guessing what’s wrong.
He frowns, “It’s nothing, just wondering where we are going to go first. Normally… I’d love to see the expressionist artists but they haven’t changed that collection in ages,” he draws out the last word.
He keeps his eyes on the little girl in the raincoat as they step out into the rain of the gallery gardens.
“Let’s start modern then go back?” You suggest.
“No way!” He puts a hand to his chest like I’ve insulted him. “In that case, we might as well see the classics. That might give you a better appreciation of art,” he eyes your reaction.
You laugh at him, knowing you were in a way too peaceful mood today to be arguing with him.
“Let’s go then,” you smile, pulling Rafayel towards the galleries.
Being a regular art gallery patron and guest curator and consultant, Rafayel knew the ins and outs of the gallery. It was getting actually scary. If he thought about it, he could visualise each item in specific collections and where they were located. How the galleries were connected and what lead where.
When you both reach the classics room, easily the biggest and most popular collection, Rafayel wants to follow you. He stops to look at you and reaches a hand out. You take it, and share a smile.
“Come on fishie… let me give you my private curatorial tour. My expertise in this area is unmatched only second to you,” you tease him.
Rafayel pretends to be annoyed, but he really doesn’t care at all. After seeing that little girl today, he is more than happy for you to lead him around.
He wasn’t his usual self for the first part of the day. But slowly he forgets about the incident that made him sad for some reason and comments with more vivacity, his usual bubbly self.
“Rafayel! Look!” You gasp, motioning towards a large wall painting. It was enormous, spanning almost the whole wall of the gallery room.
“Let’s sit down,” he suggests and plops himself down on the provided velvet viewing seats with a sigh. “My legs are tired from walking.”
“Awww, your legs are tired?” you repeat looking at him, you reach out to fluff his hair a little before turning back towards the painting. He takes a quick photo of you from behind, outlined by the painting.
He smiles to himself, as you don’t notice him taking the photo. Rafayel thinks this photo is so beautiful that he knows it’s going to be his phone lock screen for a very long time.
“Come sit,” he tugs your sleeve until you come sit beside him.
There was hardly any visitors in this gallery, so you got a great view of the piece.
The colossal painting was of a sea. White sea foam roiled and bubbled as the waves crashed relentlessly over and over into itself.
“It reminds me of you,” you say to him quietly. Rafayel doesn’t say anything, remaining quiet and waiting for you to go on.
You don’t have anything else to say, totally engrossed in the scene. There are what looks like figures on rocks in the distance, a sailboat, mossy cliffs, sea spray. A total sea landscape.
“The colours are wonderful…” he mumbles.
“Raf, it’s just blue,” you laugh, confused.
He leans forward, into your ear, “You forget I’m a god.”
“Oh I remember that, and I won’t forget it,” you raise an eyebrow at him. He gives you a look that says he’ll remind you how much of a god he is when you’re alone tonight.
“What is it like seeing to that much detail?”
“Very overstimulating.”
Your eyes turn back to the painting with a nod of your head. “So this isn’t a calm painting?”
He lets out a sad smile, “It’s quite the opposite yes. It’s very chaotic. Beautiful but… equally overwhelming.”
You look at Rafayel. Was a part of him sad today?
Slowly, you interlace your fingers with his own.
He stares at the painting still.
“Sometimes I wish I could turn it off,” he says quietly. “It’s all or nothing. If I don’t want it, I have to just shut my eyes.”
“Then I’d describe it to you.”
-/-/-
You tuck Rafayel's hair into his raincoat hood before you both step out into the rain. And that moment means more to him than he’d admit.
It was like he was the little kid, being looked after by you and he relaxes into your touch.
He couldn’t go back to how it was, all those years ago. All the way back to the time of Lemuria, when his parents would comfort him, look after him and love him.
Those days were long gone, buried under the sea.
But with you, Rafayel could feel your love, and that was enough for him.
“Let’s go, hold onto me so you don’t slip in the rain,” he takes your hand firmly in his as the rain patters down on your coats.
It was a short run to the car.
“Hey I’m getting wet!” You call out, laughing.
Rafayel turns back to look at you with a new spark in his eyes. He drops his hood, letting his hair collect water before bringing you closer and shaking his hear.
“Hey!!”
He laughs as you try to get away and he lets you go.
You’re egar to get to the warmth of his car, legs tired from standing most of the day admiring paintings.
“Come on Raf, you’re so slow!”
He laughs at you, “we’re nearly there. Slow down or you’ll-"
“Ahh!” Of course at that moment you had to slip in a puddle.
Rafayel is at your side in a second, catching your arm and keeping you upright.
You smile sheepishly at him but he just smiles at you. “Got you.”
“T-thanks Raf.”
He releases your arm, tucking you into his side instead as you both head towards the car. He helps you in before heading to the drivers seat.
You sink into your seat and Rafayel joins you a moment later, shaking the rain out of his hair.
“What are you craving for dinner, we can pick it up on the way?” He asks you on the way home. Everyone was driving much slower than usual, the rain coating the roads and crossings.
You look at him.
“Yes,” he laughs. “I’m just… in a good mood so I’ll let you pick what to have.”
“Hmm, in that case let’s get fried chicken,” you raise a playful eyebrow at him.
He smiles, “that’s perfect.”
The rest of the ride was filled with peaceful reflections on the artworks and insider stories Rafayel knows being a curator at the gallery.
He holds your hand the whole drive to get dinner, and as you wait for the order to be cooked, he leans his head down to rest on your shoulder.
“You okay? Tired?”
“Mmm, tired,” he agrees.
The bell rings, and you excitedly pick up the takeaway bag.
“Let’s go sleepy, we’ve got chicken to eat!”
He kisses your forehead and you swear he drives home so fast it’s crazy.
“The smell of the chicken’s woken me up, now all I can think about is eating it.”
He clears the lounge room table of random papers and you both dig into the chicken right away.
“Mmm so good,” you lean back in satisfaction.
He lies down on your lap as you move to pack up the box.
“Oh Raf, there's one drumstick left, you want it?”
He left it in the box just for you.
“No I’m good, you can have it,” he settles into your lap as you finish up, then wiping your hands on the takeaway napkins before packing everything back into the boxes.
You look down and see Rafayel watching you quietly.
“Come here,” you extend your arms and Rafayel rises, hugging you back. Together, you settle into the couch. Instinctively, a hand rises to Rafayel’s head, stroking his hair as he lays against your chest.
He nuzzles into you satisfied, and you feel your heart swell. Happy to protect him.
“That painting from today…” he mumbles. “Reminds me of Lemuria. I guess I’m missing it a lot today. And recently.”
“Oh Raf…” you hold him closer to you. His hair passes through your fingers gently and you realise that’s why he was a little sad today. “I’m here.”
You don’t know what else to say, but you can hold him. And you do for a long time. The two of you in the near silence of the crackling fireplace.
Rafayel draws back to look at you, not fully letting go. He brings a hand up to your face, tracing your features gently. I’m glad you’re here, his actions and gaze seemed to say. It passes carefully over your face.
Wordlessly, he slowly leans forward to meet your lips in a kiss. You pull him closer carefully and wrap your arms around his shoulders. Between Rafayel’s steady weight against you and the fireplace blazing, you warm up quickly.
He smirks at you when he notices, “Hot?”
“Yeah.”
“Good,” he smiles.
He helps you pull off your sweater, his shirt brushing against your bare chest and collarbone as he kisses you again.
“Good?” You ask.
“Yeah." He draws back and you tug on his shirt. At least both of you would be naked together. “Do I make you hot, cutie?”
You run a hand down his chest, half unbuttoned before helping him with the rest of the buttons. Rafayel hangs his head, just watching your fingers work, gently touching the freckles on his neck and chest. He shrugs out of the shirt and he swells forward to meet your lips again.
He sighs into the kiss as you pull his body closer, skin to skin, chest to chest.
There was something about the way he kisses you, the way that he was so strong, heavy on top of you, big. And the way he kisses you so deeply every time, but especially tonight.
Everything you wanted to say to him was conveyed in the way your hips met his, and everything he wanted to say was conveyed in how his hands held your body against him, feeling you carefully in all the right places.
Don’t be sad, I’m here now, is all you’re thinking as Rafayel looks down at you like you’re his artwork. Each touch, calculated and cleansing, warm. His face gave away little of his sadness, but more of his devotion and obsession with you.
“Perfect,” he whispers, and the word spills across your skin as he brings you close. “So… mmm, perfect for me.”
Your lips never leave his for what feels like hours before he kisses every inch of your skin. You were perfect. Perfect to him.
When you hold him close to your chest, hours later, he lets a few tears slip out, and that makes you hold him tighter, bodies intertwined and breathless.
“Got you… Rafayel,” you breathe out, tucking him closer.
He can feel your love, how you care for him and don’t want to see him in pain. How you understand him even when he doesn’t fully. One thing's for sure, he thinks as he’s falling asleep, is that you’re someone very, very special to him. Someone so, so precious he feels comfortable opening up around.
That thought alone is enough for Rafayel. He still misses home, there is no doubt. But you’re healing some of that, and you have no idea what that means to him.
So he lets you hold him, already falling asleep before he does, but holding him still. And listening to your calming breaths, like waves lapping at a shore, he soon follows you to sleep.
synopsis: in which xavier learns three things: (1) his work partner’s heels are a human rights violation, (2) being in your body makes him feel things he can’t blame on the wanderer, and (3) you’re just as insatiable as he is.
or: the body swap fic where xavier fucks himself stupid on his own dick.
(he’s not apologizing.)
contents: (!) xavier/fem!reader, smut (rare athe smut yay), body swap setting, body swap sex, slow start, pining, mutual pining, emotional intimacy, identity porn, porn with plot, porn with feelings, vaginal fingering, masturbation, p in v sex, praise kink, shame kink, orgasm delay, post-sex fluff, body dysphoria, switch dynamics, unresolved sexual tension, shitty humor, confessions from our boy, some meta terms, more than friends less than lovers, slight somnophilia, selfcest undertones (selfcest truthers rise), xavier has a nasty mouth, xavier is a freak like always, poor reader needs to be saved from him and his theatrics asap!!! and no beta we die like xavier’s dignity
please don’t read if any of the above upsets you :)
word count: 7.2k
note: i have decided to let this uh... interesting piece finally see the light of day... smut is genuinely so hard to write, and i still stand by this stance. i applaud and am envious of anyone who can write sex without banging their head on the wall. please teach me your ways, masters ૮ o̴̶̷᷄ ·̫ o̴̶̷̥᷅ ა
“watch out!”
it’s the last thing xavier hears before an unknown blackness swallows everything visible. smoke — most definitely, but this one isn’t like the aftermath of a bad enough accident on a packed road, or when he thought his cooking skills would accommodate an intermediate recipe. the smoke is heavy, unlike burnt petrol or spices, as it fights its way through his nose.
xavier coughs, hands fanning through the smoke. the danger still persists; the protocurves continue to emerge faster than his body could sense. that wanderer... one hand rises in front of his chest, and he tries to summon his light blade, except it doesn’t respond to him. weird... he needs to find you first. he squints at the swirling black, trying to locate you somewhere in there.
“(name)?”
something’s not right. his voice is faint, almost drifting in the smoke. his breath doesn’t settle in like it used to. the strong pulse in his ears, an echo of his soul, is unlike the barely-there rhythm it used to dwell in. his heart trembles the more smoke gets into his nose.
something’s definitely not right with that wanderer either. the infuriated beast was a bit too feisty, but this outcome was not expected with this grade of wanderers, or any, really. thousands of years’ worth of experience, all at his disposal, and yet xavier can’t figure out or do anything about this stupid smoke. irritated, his hand comes over his nose; he doesn’t pause to acknowledge the unusual smoothness of his hands that are often calloused. no time for that.
“can you hear me, (name)?!”
no response comes, which only fuels xavier to keep fanning and move through the blackness. when the smoke finally clears out, he sees them — fingers, relatively smaller fingers, ones that most definitely were not his, just like the hunter’s uniform that now sits on his body. he’s certain that his own uniform did not have this black leather nor a crop top.
his lips part, struggling for a breath. “huh?”
this voice...?
taken aback, he tries to speak again.
“(name)?”
and xavier stops, a conclusion dawning on him quickly. why does he sound so much like you? he missteps on a broken crate; the crack is loud enough to startle him, goosebumps shooting up his arms, cold finding place in his limbs that felt too small.
he looks down at his body.
why does he look so much like you?
his ears, slowly recovering from the sound waves from the protocurves, adjust to the receding levels. soon, he hears his own voice somewhere in the warehouse, more specifically, calls of his name.
this wasn’t a... dream?
“xavier?”
a few footsteps thump against the cemented floor of the abandoned warehouse, causing xavier to look up. it is indeed his own voice calling his name. the lingering smoke curves around a figure he wakes up to see every day in a mirror: it’s you who finally step out of a hidden corner, or was it even you? xavier has never seen himself look so meek. his body looks unusually tight, like joints bending to a gravity that suddenly feels too strong. his face mimics a frown, no doubt your doing.
“that... wanderer?” he sees you look around, silver hair gleaming in the dusk light. is that how his hair usually looks? you return to him, blue eyes piercing enough — his blue eyes.
“i-i think it got away.”
this can’t be...
xavier wills himself to say. “u-unfortunate.”
a mere comment, he can’t even force anything out — confirmation, consolation. his throat is wrapping around something prickly the moment he hears himself speak, almost mistaking himself for you instead. he wants to rub at his nape, an urge of an old habit, though he doesn’t know if it’s even appropriate for him in the least; it’s your body after all. he should be ashamed.
“and... this?” you mutter after some time of contemplating. your arms lift and spread to the sides, gesturing to your body — well, his.
“switching bodies? how can this even happen?” your arms flop back down, and the frown on your, or rather his, face deepens. you freeze, the dim light from outside framing your disbelief in an almost cruel manner.
“don’t tell me we are—”
“it must be that wanderer’s doing.”
xavier speaks whatever you must be thinking. perhaps it was the protocurves from that wanderer’s protocore or the black smoke it emitted right before fleeing. he, too, looks around, but for nothing, because seeing the pained expression on your face is too cumbersome for him right now. he can’t believe how he managed to miss the faint spike in the levels. this mistake of his is going to cost too much; the consequences are already here, after all...
your eyes fall to the rotten floor: moldy wood that instantly grosses him out, and prickly grass that would have definitely left rashes on bare skin. he shouldn’t have accepted this mission.
“what do we do now?”
nothing — and xavier says the same to you. he desperately wants to say something else, to ease your mind a little, but he can’t do anything. he stands still, just like you, watching your grip on his blazer that is slowly making his head spin. all he affords in the end is a pull on your hand before he’s leading you back out into the open forest. there’s no other logical choice but to wait until tomorrow morning. the wanderer has long shaken the two of you off its trail, so no point in chasing it, and the association would probably be closing right about now, judging by the way sheer moonlight lands on the ground instead of orangey rays from dusk.
you are silent as he brings you back to the entrance of the warehouse his evol just blasted moments ago. now, he can’t even sense it anymore, nor can he manipulate yours.
he turns to you suddenly. “can you try to use my evol?”
hope flares into something bright. maybe you can, or even teleport the both of you? it should be feasible enough; it is you, after all.
you look at him, bewildered, before slowly lifting a closed fist against your chest, silver eyebrows cinched with concentration. c’mon. c’mon. a few minutes pass, filled with heavy breathing and unspoken prayers, but only dust particles float where a golden light should have begun to shine.
“i... don’t think it will work,” you mutter, the now open fist dropping to your side.
you become silent again, only compelling him to fill in for you. “we’ll have to wait this out then.”
xavier sighs deeply and begins walking again, carefully guiding you through the shattered glass from the windows that line the way to the front gates. the dread that washes over him is unlike anything. this places both of you in a far more vulnerable state than he wants. he needs to get you both home safely now.
if the florist is even awake at this time, that is...
outside the warehouse, the pale moonlight strikes xavier more vividly. the forest seems to breathe more languidly, making him wonder if another threat was creeping under the green canopy. your hand tugs on his just as you reach your bike, parked right where the main road cuts through the forest. your eyes are glossy, twinkling stars making a home in a familiar blue, but he knows not to comment on them even though the sight of his teary eyes is quite mortifying right now. he hears you inhale sharply, finally looking down at him.
the height difference is weird, too weird; he doesn’t know how you have managed to keep your neck cranked up to even look at him all this time. he gulps. “(name)?”
your eyes fall shut. “please don’t tell anything to anyone.”
you must be feeling incredibly awkward. so he is! truly. the heat in his cheeks says it all. but you don’t know that... your eyes don’t open anytime soon, so xavier steals the chance to look at the sky. it’s a full moon tonight, and he doesn’t like the foreboding it seems to reveal.
he faces you again, repressing a sigh that was pleading for release. “o-of course, don’t worry.”
your eyes finally open, that taunting blue, and you whisper sorry with another tug on his hand, as if you are still not convinced enough. “i... should have been more cautious.”
“i should have been too. it’s not your fault. don’t worry.”
if you think xavier’s angry at you, then you’re wrong. how can he ever be angry at you? he squeezes your hand back with a smile that would calm you, surely.
“okay?”
you nod. “okay.”
he wonders if it felt like looking at a photo for you.
“all right, we should head back now.”
xavier bites down his rumination and encourages you to start your bike with a pat on your... broad shoulders.
it’s going to be a long night.
“xavier!”
“(name)—” he stops the elevator doors with his foot. “what’s wrong?”
the heel of your shoes is beginning to hurt his ankles. he is definitely going to file a complaint with hr for a change in the uniforms once everything returns to normal. you, on the other hand, seem to walk just fine, as you come before the open elevator again, your hands clasped together, that same cinched expression on your face.
your energy has been off ever since the two of you came back. the ride home wasn’t anything memorable, apart from the times you accidentally bent on a corner more than what should be considered safe. his eyes fall to your shoes, his choice for today. xavier gets it; it’s strange walking, breathing in a body not yours, let alone riding a bike.
no accidents or attacks happened, fortunately. that should have been fine and soothed whatever dread he was feeling back in that warehouse, but what he doesn’t understand is the tightness he’s beginning to feel in his abdomen. the feeling is familiar, little beats of heat that lingered right on the cusp of remembering before vanishing before he could connect the dots. not dread, of course not.
xavier licks his lips, your taste more rich, while your own lips part:
“can you... stay the night? at my apartment, i mean?”
your voice trembles with a rasp, taking him back to the moments when he’s just woken up. his gaze moves up, from the thigh straps he usually wore to the high neck of his black turtleneck peeking underneath your neck. are you feeling those little beats of heat too? he asks himself. is that why you are asking for him? not as a friend, but something entirely different. he blinks and remains silent for some seconds, listening to your unusually slow breaths. the elevator begins to close once again, before xavier places his foot in between the doors once more.
“are you sure?”
his concern shouldn’t have been forced. he eyes the tight bite of your lips this time. whatever is going on with you, he’s sure he’s not going to last against it much longer. how can he though? he questions himself again before saying, his voice low:
“i don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or do anything... inappropriate.”
inappropriate. xavier stretches the word more than enough — enough for you to finally see the stakes.
your eyes widen immediately. “no! no—”
you finally speak, or rather, yell, pearly white teeth letting go of the plush, pink skin. he sees your hands shoot up, reaching for him through the elevator, not caring about the dinging light or the opening and closing doors stopped by his foot. someone must be waiting on some other floor, but he wishes to stay here, in this small metallic box, for a while longer.
“oh? what is it then, (name)?”
his voice is already teetering on a tone he’s aimed at you more times than he can count. however, considering the tricky situation right now, xavier isn’t sure if you can even catch the flirty notes when it is your own voice. or... his gaze narrows.
“i-i just don’t want anything bad to happen!”
a familiar red seeps into your cheeks, making his breath hitch. apparently, you can — like, you know, like you’ll find him, and his little quirks, and his soul no matter the skin he’s wearing, no matter what. you refuse to meet his gaze and turn around, making him more laden with want than worry.
“please? i am just... worried. that’s all.” you look over your shoulder.
xavier can barely hear your pleas with your back facing him, but he yields anyway, not that he won’t. he steps off the elevator, reaching for your big hand that seems to radiate heat — a familiar kind that is already making waves inside him.
“all right.”
another easy smile for you, as he rubs his thumb on your knuckles, hoping you’d repay him. and you do, albeit a small one, but it’s enough for him.
at last, he can name the familiar feeling within him, even if it comes at the expense of his dignity. it’s difficult to discern if your worry is also just protecting something far more carnal, but he wishes it is anyway; it’s selfish of him, but he needs you to, just so he can condemn his... licentiousness a bit easier, with a little less guilt. the shame from being in your body and having these just as animalistic thoughts and urges hasn’t left him yet, but this old feeling wearing a new facade is more than enough to keep it hidden deep within his mind, leaving it to rot until the daylight comes — when mistakes become realizations.
mistakes xavier hopes he is allowed to make tonight. and realizations xavier hopes you’ll kneel into too.
“let’s go then.”
xavier can’t help but chuckle quietly at your endearing and hasty nods. your footsteps are the only thing echoing through the hallway this late. you have him following you, his small hand engulfed in your big one, as you pull and pull, almost afraid he might change his mind in a second. perhaps you have yet to become aware of the strength of his body, but xavier believes the reminders are not needed right now.
the skin on his wrist might already be blooming with red fingerprints by the time you realize and let go, and he would be lying if it didn’t make his head spin a little faster and his thighs clench. he really needs to be more gentle with you from now on, huh?
“uh—” you stop suddenly, making him bump his forehead against your back. “sorry!” a faint buzzing accompanies your apology.
“it’s okay.”
xavier instantly notices the red glowing light of your finger pad just past your waist. the sensor buzzes again, letting you both know xavier’s fingerprints are unfortunately not added to the system. he bites the inside of his cheek, another familiar feeling making a home in him once again.
why haven’t you added him yet?
“you should add mine too,” he mutters, pulling on your hand.
xavier feels almost, almost upset that you still haven’t entertained the quite intimate idea. the pout on his lips makes itself known even before he can twist it into something far more vexing. you should feel bad, you know? he will die if you won’t.
“all right, all right, can you just—”
your eyes point to the glowing button before flickering back to his totally cutesy pout. “we should probably get inside first.”
“hmm...” xavier feigns understanding as you step out of the way. he lifts one hand toward you, slightly wiggling his fingers. small, still, but... he is sure he can make good use of them. soon enough.
“which one?” his lips purse again.
you ignore him this time. “the thumb, please.”
he nods, trying to hold in his disbelief. your thumb fits perfectly inside the little gap, making him wonder if his could if he tried hard enough. he didn’t know the apartment building also provided custom locks; is this a sign for him to ditch the old-school locks and keys? the button stops glowing before flashing green as a ding fills the silence.
xavier would definitely add your fingerprints to his lock.
“there.” he twists the doorknob and motions toward the ajar door. his head drops slightly, and he thanks your haircut for hiding the sneaky smirk creeping on his lips.
“xavier?” you whisper his name.
why? why? how can his own voice make him hot in the head? are you doing this intentionally? he lifts, eyes ready to pull yours into alluring depths awaiting right behind your apartment’s door.
“c’mon in, your majesty.” he knocks at the door twice.
“wha—”
a flurry of hits instantly land on his shoulder in an attempt to distract him from the blush on your cheeks. he bites down on his lips, ignoring the muscles twitching with pain; your shyness only enticing him further.
“perhaps your majesty would prefer to be carried instead?”
“oh, shut up, xavier!”
another slap, right on his chest. it hurts more than he likes to admit. maybe he should let you know to take it easy while being in his body...
he smiles as you rush past him, finally happy to be home where no one can hurt you. “be careful.”
inside, the faint smell of your perfume greets him — the same one you must have been wearing before things happened. after the incident, and of course being nowhere near as logical or lucid, xavier didn’t quite get the chance to take a whiff. at other times, he would have sniffed you out like a dog when you’d come sauntering to the association, whether it be from his desk or just standing behind you in front of the vending machine.
don’t mind that he couldn’t before, because now, as you sit and bend in the entryway, xavier is finally getting his full fill. he is begging the scent to remain locked inside him forever. this soft musk, nectar of white roses blended with something raw and sweat — this scent that only belonged to you.
xavier inhales deeply. he wants it all. all of you.
in front of him, you take off his shoes in silence, and so does he: those nettlesome heeled boots that have given your poor, poor feet a lesson not to be forgotten. how can you hunt in them daily? they slide off the ankles smoothly, and he drops them onto the floor right beside his. your skin is pulsing; he can feel the swelling cushion his weight as he tries to get used to flat ground again. a weary, unrecognizable sound escapes him, causing you to hum in question.
“my feet — i mean your feet...” he points to the reddened limbs. “those heels are serious trouble.”
you blink and look down at his feet instead: no swelling or anything. “i usually just shower after work — the cold water helps a lot with the swelling!”
xavier stills, lust fogging his mind once more. he stutters. “t-that’s—”
shower? are you telling him to shower? in your body? really, he doesn’t mind, but won’t that make you... he can’t even look at you now, not when he’s feeling himself fucking leak at the suggestion of such a tantalizing experience.
is this how it feels for you?
a sniff pulls him gently back to reality. you look up at him, oblivious to the commotion happening inside him. “really, it would feel amazing afterward!”
are you being dense on purpose?
his eyes snap to yours. your head is tilted to the side, confusion lacing everything playful. you must be really, really tired, or were you?
xavier sighs. “(name)...”
this isn’t an invitation of some kind, right?
“are you forgetting... something?” he points to his body and then yours.
you smile sheepishly. “oh, right... maybe another time!”
another time...?
your hums don’t answer anything. you turn around, already heading deeper inside. one more sneaky comment and he’s going to do things he would probably regret.
you skip your shower, and so does he. dinner was takeout: ready-to-eat hotpot kits (it’s a staple for him at this point, and xavier’s not ashamed in the slightest) and some ice cream because, apparently, you were going to make his body crave it like no other.
“it doesn’t work like that—”
the ice cream is freezing as it licks up his teeth and the insides of his cheeks. he shouldn’t have bitten down...
“why not?” you ask before sneaking a lick of his cone, making him pretend to frown.
“i mean, the fact you are in my body is proof enough. don’t ya think?” you continue, mirth dripping from each word.
xavier wishes he was, actually.
a boop on your nose pushes you away from his melting ice cream and him. “e-eat before it makes a mess.”
(please don’t notice the clench of his thighs.)
of course, you don’t react to his teasing or comprehend the implications of your offhand words. you have his eyes closed as you change his clothes for him, expecting the same from him; he hopes you didn’t hear the hitches in his breath or his fast pulse. after dinner, when the promise of sleep silently awaits in one corner, you only give him two choices: the bed or the couch. xavier would have preferred to sleep beside you, but he’d rather you have a good night’s sleep because he knows you need it.
even if it meant no sleep for him.
as xavier said before: it is going to be a long night.
at eleven ten, he coaxed you into mindless chatter that had no business lasting for twenty minutes — petty drama peddling in the association, or jeremiah’s new inventions that were already causing headaches — but it did for him. just to not let you go, just so he could hold onto you a little longer. at eleven thirty-two, you yelled a good night, xavier, and the door of your bedroom clicked shut, officially separating you from him for hours to come — daunting times where he desperately needs you to be there with him.
the clock is daring to cross one now, and sleep has continued to evade him. outside, barks of a dog — no doubt the same one the whole apartment building takes turns caring for — penetrate the glass of your windows, shooing away what little repose he was beginning to lure in.
your couch barely compares to the one in his own apartment. no, he’s not blaming your design choices, but the cushions are an absolute pathetic excuse, and xavier wants to laugh at them hard. no way he’s going to get even a blink of sleep. this is all part of your plan, isn’t it? to have him come knocking at your door like a dog, soaked after the rain. xavier clenches his thighs again, desperately trying to stop the wetness leaking out. the sensation makes him whine; he can’t just plunge his fingers in there now, can he?
please forgive me.
xavier’s gone. gone, gone.
exhaling deeply, he lifts your night shirt and cups your chest in both hands. god, you are so soft, feeling like silk against silk. his fingers play around with the puckered buds, all the while glancing at the corner of the hallway in case you decide to sneak up on him. he slowly glides one hand down the stomach, lingering on the abdomen, feeling and caressing the skin he’s longed to touch for centuries. and he can’t help the moan.
hearing your voice coming out of him turns him on. more and more. the shorts are pushed to the knees quickly, and he doesn’t waste time sliding one hand into your panties. the only remaining light that graces his vision is the lamp you left on out of courtesy. the golden light laps at the expanse of your thighs, finally letting him see your body in clarity.
fuck, xavier breathes out, immediately letting his fingers trace around the pulsing opening. he does exactly what he has always wanted to do to you. beginning with a slow swirl around the clit, not quite touching but enough for him to feel a phantom of it hypnotize him. with his breath lagging, he collects the slickness pooling out of your pussy, making sure to coat his middle finger well, and gently nudges it past the fluttering muscles.
fuck it.
instantly, he feels your walls clamp down on the intrusion. the insane heat of them makes his mouth fall open, voice strangling in a knot somewhere deep in your throat. another finger pokes at the entrance, eager to join in the fun, and your walls have no choice but to accommodate more and more. his movements are sloppy — as to be expected. xavier is none other than a novice at this very moment, after all.
sweat beads on his forehead, carrying with it a salty taste as it drips into his agape mouth. the pace he picks is relentless. he should be more careful, more gentle, as he loves your body, but he can’t. lust is the only drive in him right now; he just can’t. he’s already becoming adept at pulling your muscles like they were his, and he just can’t contain the urge to experiment and experiment. a flick on your clit, or a pinch that makes his back arch, or even a slow caress on your other puckered hole when the pleasure drove him mad enough.
xavier loves you, he loves your body so much. and he always will.
the sweet, sweet release is more of a tease than the fingers scissoring deep in your pussy; it doesn’t come no matter how much he works his hand. frustration is the last thing xavier wanted to feel right now. alas, your fingers are nowhere near as long as his. if it were his own, he would have easily reached far deeper than what yours are allowing him right now. disgust rises in him, but it’s too late. it’s almost humiliating to admit that he’s downright begging to feel his own length slide right in, feel it harden and pump through the pliant muscles of your walls.
xavier mewls. the filthy thoughts of being fucked by himself cloud his mind, bringing on a feeling estranged yet slightly familiar — one welcomed nevertheless, one he wanted regardless.
i am sorry, (name).
another groan cuts through the tranquility of your living room, and the pressure simmering throughout today finally erupts. the barking dies out in the ringing in his ears, and the orgasm wrecks him, your body, in ways he didn’t know were possible. those little beats of heat now felt like molten fire as they spread from his core, circulating through his body. like a disassembled doll, xavier remains flat on the couch, unmoving except for the erratic rise and fall of his chest. the dull pleasure slowly dissipates in his nerves, only to leave behind the same need that needed to sink its teeth a bit deeper.
he knows this won’t be enough to sate him, at all.
so xavier stands up, his head spinning for a little upon his hurried movements. it’s not long before he’s heading to your bedroom, footsteps creaking against the wooden floor.
should he knock?
a gulp as his hand lifts to rest on the wood, and he waits. a second, then ten more — for something to startle him from behind. you don’t open it for him, and he doesn’t know why he expected you to. his hand finally grabs the knob, and he twists it open.
xavier quietly enters your bedroom without the urgency that brought him to your very door in the first place, and perhaps he knows the reason why. he waddles closer to your bed, the lack of light barely a hindrance for him. seeing you up close makes the gates open again, but now the flow of fervor is tame, because it’s you. he can’t ever bear to be rough with you.
he slips in right beside you, the coldness of the blankets a pleasant surprise for his feverish body. you don’t move an inch as you lie on your side, little snores escaping your lips. the timid moonlight doesn’t do justice to the peace reflected on your face — something he doesn’t want to snatch away from you. he wants you so badly; at the same time, he wants you to want him too.
you will accept him, won’t you, even if it’s him wearing your own skin?
xavier tucks a lone strand behind your ear. his hand cups your cheek, letting his heat permeate the cold skin. his body has always run a bit colder, after all. it would crush him to see his own body hurt you. a pat is all he tests for now as he awaits your impending reaction. when you don’t return to the waking world, xavier tries something bolder. his face lines up to yours, and he presses his lips against yours, eyes squeezing shut.
you see him like a friend, but to him, you’ve always been his everything, forever: from the end of a beginning to the beginning of an end. xavier doesn’t want to label your relationship as mere coworkers or friends or... lovers. it’s just not fair to the two of you. he’s crossing a line here, he knows, but can you even blame him? if only you were aware of everything: the past, his and yours. then you would have understood, right?
like clockwork, you begin to stir awake. it’s the suck of a breath first, one he doesn’t let you claim so easily. his lips move harder against yours when a muffled noise escapes you. when he finally feels you push on his shoulders, he pulls away, already missing you.
“what—” you heave, trying to replace the air he stole from you. “xavier… what are you doing here?”
what does he even say to you?
“did you just...” you gasp. he sees your hand reach up for your lips, feeling the skin he’s been messing with: red and bitten raw. the extra pillow beneath him soaks up any sweat dribbling down his face. the air has changed, hotter; he can feel it melt on him — like salty vapors of a restless sea.
“you should know this by now.” he whispers, hoping you’d hear him.
you blink. “what do you mean?”
“that i am insatiable — that i have been for so long now.”
he moves closer, not paying attention to another gasp of yours. his hand grabs yours immediately and pushes it into your panties. you can feel it, right? the wetness, the mess his fingers had just made moments ago. he stares at your agape mouth, not knowing what you are feeling. your hand doesn’t move, and neither do you, only rendering him breathless.
you don’t want him…?
“please,” he pleads, eyes looking up at you. “i want this. i want you badly.”
you gulp, silver eyelashes fluttering. “xavi—”
“please.”
xavier sits up, completely imprudent by now. he climbs on top of your torso, making sure to press his core right where you should be aching for him. your want doesn’t wish to reveal itself to him right now, but it’s okay. another grind comes, from down to up. another moan sounds from your mouth, which tells him he’s succeeding, slowly but surely. it’s small, subtle, but the bulge only makes him proud for a vile reason; you react well, don’t you? his hips move with a mind of their own, drawing more sounds from you.
“you feel me?” xavier pants from above.
you are beginning to tremble beneath him now, your hand palming his sides. reluctance pulls you by the joints, and your lips break apart, a shudder making you still before you use his own strength to stop him.
“we can’t—”
one more grind just to drive his motives home — one painfully slow for the both of you. he feels your bulge now prod at his moist center, begging for reprieve.
“x-xavier, we can’t do this right now…” you blink up at him.
he tilts his head to the side, letting a smile etch onto his face — one that was definitely more wicked than it looked. “why not?”
“i—”
“you say no…” his one palm slithers in between your bodies, and he presses hard on the pulsing bulge, in essence, trampling over your excuses.
“what’s this, then?”
xavier muffles whatever you were going to say next. his lips are back on yours, licking, sucking, not leaving any skin untouched. you don’t try to push him off this time, in fact quite the opposite. he thinks he might be dreaming as you grind back against him, reciprocating in the way he was wishing you would.
xavier parts from you, and noses against your jaw. “you’ve been wanting this too, haven’t you?”
“xav—”
his hand moves fast to cup your chin. “no, tell me exactly what it is.”
he sees your eyes close, teeth nibbling your lips. “and if i say yes...”
then they open once more with a blue so fervent it nearly makes him collapse.
“what would that make me?”
sudden affection floods him. he chuckles and gives your cheek a gentle pat. “what do you think?”
a pause hits you before: “just like... you?”
that’s the crux of it all, isn’t it?
“just… like.. me.”
another pat lands as your limbs relax beneath him. he asks, “well, do you… want to?”
your eyes widen, and you bite your lips again. he patiently waits even though the bulge pressing against him is yelling at him to do something, quick. because your word is all that matters. xavier hopes you know he would get off you this very moment if you so desired.
but, of course, you don’t.
“i want to.”
you want him too.
xavier smiles, a genuine one for this hectic night. “i know.”
soon, he’s pawing at the waistband of the sweatpants he guided your legs through hours ago. you don’t hesitate this time as he pulls them off you in one single go. it’s you who paws at his boxers next, muttering something that sounds awfully close to a “please.” the word is drawn out in his husky voice, as if you’d finally learned to manipulate his vocal cords for your salacious gains. he does the same with the boxers, throwing them across the room to a forgotten corner before returning above you.
instinct controls him, and he quickly wraps his hand around the hard erection. xavier drinks in your expression, his ministrations making you all the more pliant beneath him — just as he wanted. “how does this feel?”
“i can’t describe—oh!” a moan is ripped out of you when he squeezes slightly.
“strange? weird?”
his eyes meet yours, and you manage a nod, silver hair matted from sweat.
“but familiar…” a smile breaks out on your face.
“you know,” he lets go of the pulsing length, and straddles your lap once more. “i felt the same too.”
“when?”
“when i fucked myself using your fingers.”
“what?!” the shock on your face makes him snort. “is that why you were fucking leaking?!”
his tight grip is back on you, and he’s already guiding the hardness to where he drips.
“it wasn’t enough. i wanted my own fucking dick — so bad.”
xavier lifts, making sure not to break eye contact. “wanted to fuck myself stupid on you.”
a laugh blooms out of you. “you are nasty.”
“never denied that…” xavier bends forward, and pecks your lips.
“so… you’ll fuck me, right?”
you pull him down fast.
with his breath caught, his eyes are forced shut, drowning out every other sense with only you. your fingers are no match for the wholeness he feels. he knew it already, you know? his dick was always going to be the one to fit so perfectly inside of you, nestled in your welcoming warmth, filling every nook; for him and only him.
“xavier—!” he feels you claw at his thighs.
“i’ll move, d-don’t worry.”
and he does, slowly, up and down, up, down, testing the waters, feeling every sensation, everything he’s been bombarded with: your nails imprinting on his thighs, his hot length molding something deep inside you.
“you like it?”
he’s bouncing now, and he has no idea why he knows how to. the slickness from your mixed fluids is dripping out around the length, as it pools on your lap. the splosh, splosh deafening in the silence you both didn’t occupy. you remove your hands from his waist and cover your eyes, making him laugh sluggishly. his hands stretch across your chest, tweaking with your little, pink nipples. your response is instantaneous in the form of a loud shriek, sharp enough to cut through the tension.
“w-why is your body—ahh! so sensitive?!” you moan out.
“don’t blame m-me, baby…”
xavier leans forward, and he’s kissing you again, almost trying to eat you through your mouth. your tongue barely holds against him as he rubs his against yours, hard and filthy, letting saliva leak from the sides of your connected lips.
the tightness returns to your limbs, however, this time because of an entirely different reason. he can feel it too, a feeling he knows too well: this blazing knot, binding deep inside his abdomen. he’s close, and so are you. he can’t tell where you begin and he ends, and truthfully, xavier doesn’t care. he’d weld himself against you if he could. he’s too lost deep in the pleasure by now, that he’s barely paying attention to how his moans begin to deepen with each strangled whine. the gravity seems to have flipped completely, but xavier blames it on the dick drilling through him.
except, it’s not anymore.
one moment he’s hearing you blabber about how tight he feels, and the very next, it’s him feeling that same tightness around him. huh…? he tries to stop his bouncing, only to find out he’s not the one doing that now. his eyes snap open, and he freezes. it’s you, and your face, and your body he sees above him; your thighs on the sides of his waist, your walls clenching around him instead of the other way around.
oh.
he pinches at your thigh. “(name).”
“no,” you whisper, your voice landing fresh. “i was so close!”
“(name)…” his hands come to grope your behind.
being back in his own body doesn’t elicit the surprise from him xavier was thinking it would. and for you, it doesn’t seem any different either — not surprised, only that you are mourning the release he was going to give you. what should he do now that he’s finally free from a fantasy, only to be trapped in a different one?
you pout, tightening around him again. “you are not going to leave me hanging, xavier.”
“of course… come here.” he smirks.
you lean toward him, immediately catching him in another kiss — a kiss that finally feels normal, like puzzle pieces back in their places. his one hand splays on your back, while the other slides down in between your body, finding that tiny bud that still seemed to pulse.
xavier parts from you, lips sloppy. “you are just as insatiable as me…”
“stop—” his fingers press on your clit, making you shut up.
xavier can’t stop himself now, can’t stop the lewd words falling out of his mouth, or his hips that rush to meet yours halfway.
“look at you, baby…”
“bent over me like this.”
“all spread open for me.”
“so obscene, aren’t you?”
his mouth traps yours in a push and pull again, distracting enough for you that you almost miss the way his dick starts moving inside you.
“oh, xavier… oh~”
“fuck—” xavier stills immediately, trying not to cum at the spot. his arms cage you in against him. “don’t, or i might just…”
“aw, you are so cute.”
a flick lands on your forehead, making you whine. he recollects himself and looks at you one last time, mirroring your amusement.
“i am gonna move, okay?”
a nod from you is all it takes for his hips to start moving again. xavier doesn’t find it hard to thrust into you from below, if anything else, he can feel so much farther in you this way. you begin to gush around him as he continues to piston into you, thrust after thrust, not letting his pace falter even once. he keeps you close to his chest, letting you hear his heartbeat that seems to race just like yours.
the clenches around him never stop for even a second, alongside your sucks and bites on his nipples. xavier knows you are beginning to feel good now.
“touch yourself for me?” he coaxes you gently by patting on your back, meanwhile continuing to fuck you steadily.
“eh—”
the request is sudden but sweet you accept it anyways. xavier stares at you through his sweat-slicked bangs, watching your mouth fall agape, as your fingers try to match with his consistent thrusts.
“f-feeling good?”
a moan escapes you just as he angles his dick slightly, hitting deeper. “so goooood!”
after a few more thrusts, comprehension seems to be lost on you. it’s all blabbering now for you: “xavier, please! xavier, i can’t!”
xavier, i can’t take this! then why are you moving despite telling him not to?
xavier, don’t stop! and yet you cry for his mercy when his ruthlessness overtakes.
you are not the only one out of your mind, however. an impatient roar rises in him also. he, too, seems to balance right on the very edge, and your own release would be all it would take for him to tip over it. you have him thrown so out of his orbit, that he won’t be able to return anytime soon. he suckles on your neck, leaving behind purple hues that will match the ones you gifted on his chest.
you have long since stopped playing with your clit; instead, hold onto him as you hide your face in his neck, licking up any sweat drops that pass by your blurred vision. your voice melts against his ears, your moans more like a melody, he wanted to relish and tune according to his desires.
“xavier—” your imminent warning finally sounds in the heat of it all. his arms tighten their hold on you, and he hears you yell: “i am gonna—!”
“gonna cum? on my cock? yeah, show me, baby.”
and you do, making him feel every single fucking squeeze — complete insanity. it’s damn near impossible to move inside the vise-like grip your pussy has on him. not long after, xavier feels himself spurting inside your hot walls as his thick cum drips out of your poor hole in globs.
xavier’s undone all the way to the soul.
a few minutes pass with you slumped atop him, both of you trying to catch your breaths.
“that was…”
no further words leave you, but xavier already knows everything. he smiles as you nuzzle against his cheek.
the need has finally sunk its teeth.
with this, xavier has taken absolutely everything from you in every sense.
(and he needs to keep that wanderer around for… ahem, research purposes.)
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